Analyzing "Still I Rise"

Maya Angelou is a contemporary female black American writer. Much of her poetic expression is tied to this identity. Her poem “Still I Rise” was written in 1978. This poem creates a jazz-like rhythm, with its rhyme scheme, repetition of “I Rise”, words like ‘soulful’ and slang such as ‘‘Cause.’ The smooth, yet hard-hitting rhythm contributes to the air of confidence and invincibility that the words of the poem so clearly display.

Angelou’s imagery helps solidify her assertions. In the first stanza, one can imagine dirt being drove into the ground by a powerful boot, but Angelou shows that she is not packed down by this action, she is amongst the particles of dust that float up and away to freedom from this force. She also uses the “certainty of tides”, moons and suns, to convey the reliability and assuredness of her rising above the odds and the oppression.

Angelou metaphorically walks and laughs and dances as though she’s pumping oil in her living room, digging gold mines in her back yard, and dancing with diamonds between her legs. These images suggest confidence in who she is as a woman. A feministic approach to analysis may be taken in that she is challenging the gender roles that would normally expect her to be demure, gentle, timid, and not publicly express sexuality.

On a level of contingency, it is apparent that Angelou’s poem is referencing oppression towards African Americans in the United States, especially focused on both women and slavery. “Out of the huts of history’s shame”, “Bringing the gifts that my ancestors gave, I am the dream and hope of the slave.” The adversity is illustrated to us so that we know what grave depths she is rising out of. Surely meaning and emotion can be found in this poem within the context of the oppression of colored people in America.

The poem may fit appropriately into the context of black American history, but many elements give this poem relation to universal experiences that contribute to its widespread popularity. The concept of rising up against adversity in any situation- no matter the hardships, no matter the pain or struggle- is something that transcends time. Throughout history we have seen oppressed peoples carry on with strength throughout difficult times. Humans endure hardships to varying degrees, but all can relate to a time of uncertainty, fear, and struggling. The poem is inspiring and powerful in that it shows confidence in the worst of times. Angelou inspires this unabashed confidence and overcoming spirit into her audience.

SELECTED POEM: Still I Rise

Still I Rise

by Maya Angelou

You may write me down in history
With your bitter, twisted lies,
You may trod me in the very dirt
But still, like dust, I'll rise.
Does my sassiness upset you?
Why are you beset with gloom?
'Cause I walk like I've got oil wells
Pumping in my living room.
Just like moons and like suns,
With the certainty of tides,
Just like hopes springing high,
Still I'll rise.
Did you want to see me broken?
Bowed head and lowered eyes?
Shoulders falling down like teardrops,
Weakened by my soulful cries?
Does my haughtiness offend you?
Don't you take it awful hard
'Cause I laugh like I've got gold mines
Diggin' in my own backyard.
You may shoot me with your words,
You may cut me with your eyes,
You may kill me with your hatefulness,
But still, like air, I'll rise.
Does my sexiness upset you?
Does it come as a surprise
That I dance like I've got diamonds
At the meeting of my thighs?
Out of the huts of history's shame
I rise
Up from a past that's rooted in pain
I rise
I'm a black ocean, leaping and wide,
Welling and swelling I bear in the tide.
Leaving behind nights of terror and fear
I rise
Into a daybreak that's wondrously clear
I rise
Bringing the gifts that my ancestors gave,
I am the dream and the hope of the slave.
I rise
I rise
I rise.

The Individual vs. The Collective in Laterna Magica

The selection of short stories from the compilation Laterna Magica, by William Heinesen, explores an array of connections between the situations of an individual and the experiences of collective humanity. In providing examples portraying such a relationship, Heinesen is addressing our notions of contingency vs. universality. Heinesen does a great job of taking the tiny, seemingly unimportant, little town in the Faroe Islands and creating it into something bigger than life, bigger than understanding, full of wonder and meaning that applies worldwide, not just in Torshavn.

Most can relate to a blissful, free time in our young lives when dinner and bedtime were calling, and we felt the ‘infinite pleasure’ of ‘screaming and howling’, not quite ready to face losing this perfect time to the confinement of darkness and rest. Although this in itself is a common childhood experience, in the context of the interweaving short stories of Laterna Magica, we may see that Heinesen is discussing the coming of death. At the end of our lives, when we hear the call to come back in, it is then we will most desire to scream and shout in childlike wonder and freedom. Darkness will come, “something has to come to an end.” As one grows older and nearer to this imminent departure, he lets go of everything the world holds as important and normal and prepares to fly out of the window and out of this life.

You may not have broken your leg in two places like Miss Urd, and you may not play the violin like Master Jakob does, but like Jakob, so many of us have sought to pacify our loneliness and need for comfort through music, drinking alcohol, or pursuing romantic relationships. He is not disliked, not isolated from society, but Jakob is still empty. He is well-educated and has spent much effort collecting literature of all sorts, yet he still has “just managed to keep body and soul together.” As the other stories play out, happiness in life depends on perspective, on your boldness to step outside of the conformity of society around you and live for something greater than the expected, greater than rules and ritual.

An Enemy of the People

The situation being unfolded in “An Enemy of the People” caused me to think about the control of the oil companies on, well, our whole planet. I have often thought about the massive power of major oil companies. The leaders of this gold-mine of an industry possess the power to disallow any new, cheaper, more efficient fuel technology to ever become widespread out of fear of seeing their profits be made worthless by some new-fangled technology. After pondering this connection, I strongly feel that Miller succeeded in his “wish to demonstrate that Ibsen is really pertinent today” (8).

Newfound scientific knowledge based around fresh technology, such as finding microscopic evidence of contaminated water in the 1950’s, or discovering a fuel alternative that could revolutionize civilization in the 21st century, may have the potential to stir up change that is unwanted by the powers that be.

Peter Stockmann, the town’s mayor and Dr. Stockmann’s brother, does not take the threat of infectious bacteria seriously as his brother expects everyone will. Peter talks his way around the original issue because his motives are political, not scientific. He refuses to let the economic foundation of the town be pulled out from under him because of an intangible health threat. Power is much more important to him than that, and he utilizes his power to the extreme throughout the play. Peter cunningly yet easily turns the entire town against his brother, making him out to be the ‘enemy of the people’, who is out to ruin the town (96-97).

Dr. Stockmann’s rebuttal to the frustrating speeches of his brother at Horster’s house is passionate, intelligent, and convincing. His allusions to Jesus and Galileo are used cleverly in trying to convey the idea that the majority is “never right until it does right” (94-95). However, we learn in this story, that the most convincing presentation of controversial truth is not enough to sway a stubborn majority convinced by the authorities and power that the ‘truth’ is harmful to them. We are left devastated by the lack of justice served in this town, but yet we sense triumph in that our beloved messenger of truth has not given in to the intense pressures he has received to sway from his stand.

Dutton's Critique of Booker

After giving a limited background of Christopher Booker’s “Seven Basic Plots”, Dennis Dutton launches his argument against Booker, which rudely derails the treatise off any track of validity or acceptability it was ever on.

It is somewhat difficult to critique the viewpoints of both Dutton and Booker, when Booker’s own position is presented not by himself but by his critic, Dutton. Booker categorizes examples of literature into seven broad, echoing story types with the same overall plot and presents these seven plots as applicable for nearly all works of literature, at least that literature which is valid in Booker’s mind.

I found the overview of “The Seven Basic Plots” to seem logical and sensible. I was a little bothered that for some, such as number five and six, Dutton offers no real explanation of what that category means other than offering a title or two of works which I am apparently supposed to be familiar with. It seems as though Dutton is getting bored and impatient of recapping Booker; he wants to hurry up and get to smashing his ideas into the ground, so he continually presents less information of each consecutive plot. It may be for this reason that I feel more in agreement and understanding of Booker’s first four plots, and confused about plot numbers five through seven. However, according to Dutton’s inclinations, it is because Booker simply tagged on the last few to accommodate those outsiders that just wouldn’t fit into his other groups.

Booker believes in Jungian archetypes that can account for symbolism such as that of malevolent characters representing egotism. Dutton, on the other hand, argues that things just are the way they are, and they things just make sense according to human nature, desires and values. In essence he is saying, “Duh! Of course these are basic plots; there are only so many logical alternatives, according to Aristotle, for a story to follow. This doesn’t mean anything significant and it doesn’t make them archetypes, it just means that this is what interests us and this is what makes sense for literature, just as the layout of rooms in a home makes sense for our way of life.”

Dutton presents a convincing argument. He is harsh and direct in diminishing Booker’s decades of work into a seemingly elementary account of what is obvious and naturally evident in literature.