To me, the poem “The Dong with the Luminous Nose” by Edward Lear, is a rather intriguing story. It’s not one of those stories when the prince (the Dong) finds his princess (the Jumbly girl), gets married and lives happily-ever-after. The Dong has lost his Jumbly Girl when she went back to sea in the sieve with the other Jumblies, and still goes out overland in search for his Jumbly Girl and… is still out there, always looking for her. This ending was a nice change from the usual, but it also makes me curious why it ended like that. Why didn’t the author make it so that the Dong finally finds his true love and they sail off together in the moonlight and live harmoniously together? Was he just sick of the ending in every story (like I can be), or did this sort of experience happen to him?
Part of me wonders if he found his true love, but it somehow got away, and he didn’t get his happily-ever-after, maybe like he had dreamed about. This ending made me very curious – it made me hope that the author (when he was still alive) had made a sequel, and there was more to the story than it seemed. I want to know if the Dong ever found her, if they ever fell in love again, if all he did to try to find her paid off. I was also wondering why he chose to make the nose the part of his body that became luminous. Was it just random, or was there a meaning to it, one that I hadn’t noticed? All in all, I enjoyed this poem: it made me ask questions, be curious, and I liked that. I liked that I didn’t know everything there was to know about it, and that the story didn’t need to be like every other one to be amazing and unique.
Alison Bizzaro adds to the conversation:
This poem is extremely odd in an intriguing way. There is not a thing in this poem that makes sense, but it makes me curious to find out why such a strange poem was written. This poem is most likely famous for the same reason I am intrigued by it. It’s so odd, almost surreal, but it makes you curious. This poem also uses very colorful visual descriptions, such as “a lonely spark with silvery rays/ piercing the coal-black night” and “Slowly it wanders,–pauses,–creeeps,–/Anon it sparkles,–flashes and leaps;” which keep any readers of this poem interested in the poem. The illustrations give a clear idea of what these clearly made up beings look like. It would be quite difficult to imagine what such specific characters could possibly look like, and the illustrations help to paint a picture and set a tone for the poem.
The Curse of the Blue Figurine by John Bellairs has been quite a marvelous experience for one of my age to read. Right from the beginning you cannot but just help imagining the scenario as if you were Johnny Dixon himself. Bellairs creates very thorough and thought-out characters, most significantly Professor Childermass. At first, the professor just seems like an average grumpy old man who does nothing but complain. But he is far from it. The Prof only seems like this to people he doesn’t like. (Have you noticed that I’m not consistent with capitalizing ‘professor’? Well, neither is Dial Press. Look with me, if you will, on page 41. At the beginning of the first full paragraph of page 41, the word professor is capitalized while not addressing anyone in particular! But you can look at the 3rd line of the same paragraph to see the word Professor being properly capitalized – so because of this mistake, I will simply stick with the capital letter, partially to show Dial Press that I’m a better proofreader than they are, and partially to show honor and respect to… PROFESSOR C!) While on the topic of Professor Childermass, he is introduced to the story as he makes his entrance into the Dixon home, hot and cursing. His car is stuck in the snow, and he’s ready to blow one of his own cylinders. “You know Henry,” the professor snarls, “in a hundred years, people will think we’re out of our ever-loving minds to spend so much of our valuable time taking care of automobiles. Think of it! Everybody on this block owns a two-ton hunk of metal that he has to feed gas and oil – .” But suddenly, the Prof stops when he sees “Gods, Graves, and Scholars, by C. W. Ceram,
and The Mountains of Pharaoh, by Leonard Cottrell,
and James Henry Breasted’s History of Egypt.”
Commenting on Johnny’s books on page 15, the Professor speaks disparagingly about his nieces, in glowing approval of Johnny reading these books (and not even for an assignment!): “I have just come from visiting my sister’s daughter, who lives up in New Hampshire. She has two children your age, but they couldn’t read their way through a book of cigarette papers.” The Professor then launches into the story of Father Baart, an evil parish priest from the 19th century, who ran the church that the Dixons attend.
Prof Childermass describes Father Baart by saying, “He was short and wore a black cloak and he had a big head and a jutting chin and lots of grayish hair that he wore long. And an overhanging forehead, and a hawkish nose, and a deep-set, burning eyes. So if you’re ever in the church late at night well…” only to be cut off by Johnny’s grandpa. But in this short outburst, we can clearly see that on the outside the Prof may seem like a toxic, grumpy guy, but when he is speaking with someone he finds interesting or worth talking to, the Prof really opens up.
We can really see this bond being formed between the two when Johnny discovers the figurine. On pages 39-42, the Professor is the first person who comes to mind to help figure out the mystery of the figurine. But Johnny catches the Prof off guard in his so-called fuss closet. The Professor proceeds to go on a story of his whole fuss closet. Explaining that “[he] has a rotten temper… [he] came up here –as [he] always [does] in such cases… and he fussed. [He] cursed and yelled and pounded the walls and the floor,” (Bellairs, 39). Normally, even a friend walking inside of your home wouldn’t incline you to tell them a story about a closet, right? But the Professor is so fond of Johnny that he can’t help but welcome him in at any time even though he doesn’t even know why Johnny is there in the first place.
Bellairs writes, “Johnny found the old man kneeling beside the tub. He was wearing a rubber waterproof apron, and the sleeves of his shirt were rolled up. The tub was half full of water, and in it floated a fleet of little wooden boats. They were galleys, with matchstick oars and little triangular sails. Little paper flags fluttered from the sterns of the ships. Half of the flags were red and gold and had coats of arms on them. The other half were green and had gold crescents,” (Bellairs, 61). Why such detail? In reality, these are just little tiny boats that are being fiddled with by the Professor. No one would expect a scene with a Professor playing with wooden ships in a bathtub, or would they? But the Prof elaborates and see explains the specific battle he is re-enacting, in preparation for his next day’s class, so we learn about the Prof’s abiding passion for teaching history. When reading that scene for the first time, one would not immediately discard the scene and say it has no meaning. In fact, we think of it as revealing character and humanizing the Professor even more. And without the realism in these kinds of scenes, readers would just gloss over them, which is why we can really appreciate Bellairs’ craft and choice of vocabulary. Without it, the book would not be itself, and without this craft, readers like myself would not be so enticed into the book and almost forced to make predictions. The book itself is just so enjoyable and welcoming to read so readers cannot help to try and predict the story. Questions like, is the blue figurine actually cursed? Is Johnny going to get more revenge against Eddie? and Why did Johnny remove the figurine from the church crowd and compete in our minds, fueling interest. Overall, Curse has been a wonderful enticing story that I am eager to finish and to read sequels.
Zayd is reading “The Wind in the Willows” and here adds (from Ratty’s eyes) more rapturous devotion to the best season for a water rat: summer of course!
Ratty’s poem
The summer is bright, just like you my friend
O, summer tell us what flora you send
The purple loosestrife bright with spikes
Then come the willow herbs bright as a sunset cloud
The pageant of the river bay
So clear in the summer day
The fields are green, the animals happy
The caravans ready to go with ‘baccy
The river so clean
So nice and pristine
It is the river not the bay
Summer is the hot siesta of the year.
Zayd writes: Now spring is upon us as Mole decides to start a little diary. Of course this diary has been destroyed over the last 15 years. Or so we thought… Last week in the river Thames locals have discovered a page of Mole’s diary that has had one magical power. This diary has made people feel as if they are living right beside him.
The Diary of Mole
I have gotten quite frustrated with Ratty. Even I, his dear loyal friend, have to admit that he’s been a little bit of an ignoramus this time. After all, did he or did he not let the foolish, carefree, yet kind Toad…. I am just dumbfounded at how this kind and benevolent animal (Ratty) had been fooled by the nitwit. But it is water under the bridge for me (for I don’t know if Mr. Badger feels the same as I do). He seems to have not taken it lightly that Toad has escaped. Guess Toad’s going to do some rash and irresponsible actions that are probably, wait no, going to get him in trouble with the police. Well, I will tell you something. I am not going to bail that incompetent fool out no matter how many letters or sob stories he tells. Anyways, it is more trouble going to look for him.
Day 2
As I wait for Ratty to finally be done chatting with his river comrades, it is blazing out here. Finally, Rattyemerges from his little hidey-hole with a depressed borderline sad look on his face.
I asked him why he had such a long face and what the matter was. Otter’s adventurous son Portly had run off somewhere and Otter had become hysterical. Ratty, being the good little chap he was, said he couldn’t bear to watch Otter sob so much that his Gucci throw rug was sopping wet. Therefore he was set on rescuing Portly before Otter breaks down. Of course, Ratty cranks that little mind of his and starts coming up with endless possibilities. Finally, he comes up with the answer that all of us should have seen. THE RIVER OF COURSE!
Where else would Portly have gone! The river is the most fabulous and perfectly splendiferous for an otter to go. Well, we must go with haste for there is no time to lose. We quickly sped into Ratty’s house (almost knocking the door down) and found ourselves a nice and tidy boat. The boat was nice and well-structured but sadly it reeked of gherkins. As we set off into the river I saw Ratty. He was acting very oddly indeed. He was entranced by this music coming from out of nowhere. I thought that this was the absolute stupidest thing I have ever heard until I heard it as well. The sound of beautiful music filled my earsso much that I wanted to start singing. It was as if the whole forest came to life. The willowherb sings a deep harmonious tone.
The trees sway and dance along. The purple loosestrife sings the high notes. While I am enjoying this very song I notice an island erected from right out of the water. This was where the music was coming from and Ratty was sure of it. As we edged nearer to the island the music got louder. It filled my mind and took control over me “Ratty was tearing up at the sound of the music”. I walked onto the island and saw none other than Portly, Otter’s adventurous (and very cute) son snoozing and dozing away in the lap of an animal. Then I looked closer and realized it was no animal at all. It was a majestic figure. With a pointed chin and hooved feet why he looked magnificent. Then I looked at Ratty. Ratty was bowing in front of this creature and instructed me to do so as well. Ratty claimed that it was the demigod Pan or Himself. That is all I am writing in my journal for today because Ratty is now dozing off near the fire and I ought to do so as well (blows out the candle).
Spoiler Alert: “The Way up to Heaven” by Roald Dahl
Julie Harris’ performance in the film adaptation of Roald Dahl’s “The Way up to Heaven” was very convincing and realistic. Her facial expressions and tone perfectly captured Mrs. Foster’s dilemma. All the actors and actresses did a great job with capturing the feel of the story. The actor who played Mr. Foster did a fantastic job with his role, for he was really annoying and self-absorbed and cruel, which was good for the role he was playing. Both the story and the video were entertaining. The story was fun to read, and very suspenseful. I personally preferred the film though, since the ending to the story was quite confusing. I found it difficult to interpret what happened to Mr. Foster through the writing. All the questions I had about the story were answered in the film though. It was helpful to be able to see what their house looked like and what time they were living in. To be able to see Mrs. Foster’s reaction to the delays and antics of Mr. Foster made the experience enjoyable and interesting, and these developed the story. When I heard Mr. Foster calling out names from within the house, I immediately understood what was going on and how Mrs. Foster had killed him. It all made sense in the film, whereas some key details in the writing were very difficult to find. In fact, in the film, the director implanted a scene that I thought was really helpful to understanding the dynamics at play.
The film version shows a clip of the butler and the driver having a conversation about Mr. and Mrs. Foster. This did not appear in the story. The driver comments on how severe Mrs. Foster’s fear is and how he has noticed that Mr. Foster likes to purposefully make her late to scare her. The butler disagrees, and, despite that he must recognize Mrs. Foster’s paranoia of being late, pretends that he does not know Mr. Foster makes her late to torture her. He semi-mockingly suggests that if the driver thinks Mr. Foster would do something like that, that he should find another job. When I saw this I realized that neither Mrs. Foster nor the driver were uptight or confused, and in clashing against the chaos, they were the only sane ones. Seeing Mr. Foster at the end was really morbid. The film unlocked some elements of the story adding to the overall enjoyment: but please read the story first!
A practical joke is a trick played on someone to make them look foolish and to amuse others. This idea is explored by Guy de Maupassant in his stories, “A Normandy Joke” and “An Uncomfortable Bed.” In “A Normandy Joke,” it starts off with a wedding procession, the bridegroom being a wealthy sportsman by the name of Jean Patu and the bride who was courted by many other fellows but of course, picked “the richest farmer in the neighborhood.” During the big wedding dinner, four young fellows think of practical jokes for the newly married couple and find one so good that when one shared the idea out loud, “the whole table convulsed with laughter.” They suggested that people would poach on his land during the wedding, an idea that Jean did not like, so he challenged them. He would be proven wrong. He heard two shots as he was getting ready to get in bed, and raced out to hunt them down in a “tumultuous rage.” The next day, he would be found “two leagues from the farm, tied hand and foot, half dead with rage, his gun broken, and a placard on his chest with these words: ‘Who goes on the chase loses his place.’” It can be inferred that the four young fellows had planned this and likely fired the shots to get him all riled up, with their comments at the dinner table to get Jean more paranoid about poachers to set up the practical joke.
In “An Uncomfortable Bed,” a man whose age is described as an “old ferret” is staying with his friends for the hunting season in a chateau in Picardy. His friends are terribly fond of practical jokes and he is immediately suspicious when he steps into the “chateau,” for he is greeted by “princely reception” as they “embraced” and “cajoled” the old ferret. He also notes excessive mirth at the dinner table as if they were getting their appetizer-giggles out before the main course, and by the title, it is assumed to be an uncomfortable bed. Apparently, they needed a second appetizer as “during the entire evening, everyone laughed in an exaggerated fashion.” They even needed a third as they escorted the old ferret to his apartment and he “heard laughter and whispering in the corridor.” The old ferret inspected everything like a paranoid animal and found that “the bed was particularly suspicious-looking.” So he pulls the mattress onto the floor. Dessert is coming soon, do not worry. He is awakened by the fall of a heavy body. He “[receives] on [his] face, on [his] neck, and on [his] chest a burning liquid which made [him] utter a howl of pain. And a dreadful noise, as if a sideboard laden with plates and dishes [fell] down, [penetrates] [his] ears.” It turns out that as a consequence of his suspicion, he brought “the interlude [he] had been striving to avoid,” as a valet tripped over his bed and failed to catch himself. Dessert is the best course of a meal.
