Campion AP Lit

        While reading the first section of When the Emperor was Divine , the mother's calm, nonchalant attitude stood out to me. Amidst a life-changing tragedy where you and your family are taken from your home to an open-air prison with no set return-date, I would expect a little concern. However, the mother goes about her business emotionless: killing their family dog like it is a bothersome chore, letting the family bird free with no parting words or emotions, or as Otsuka put it, "followed the rules" (9). One could chalk up this emotional disconnect from the narration of the story, being a manifestation of the emotional disconnection shown through the lack of names given the characters, but it also could be seen as a reflection of the woman's mental state.         Is the woman's nonchalance the result of her expectation? Did she expect this sort of incarceration was looming, allowing her to mentally prepare for the situation  she was about to face? This is a p

        One of the first things that stood out to me while reading the first section of  When the Emperor was Divine was the decision of the author, Julie Otsuka, to omit the names of the characters, simply addressing them as "the woman," "the girl," or "the boy." There are plenty of reasons why Otsuka may have made this decision, and ultimately, we will never know without her outright explanation. Nevertheless, Otsuka's decision is a unique one, and one that most definitely was meant to serve a greater purpose in the understanding of the novel. Thus, my goal in this blog is to speculate as why Otsuka may have made such a radical literary move...         One possible reason for this decision is to take a step towards presenting the characters of the novel through the lens of American society. The Japanese population was not seen for their individual identities by the majority of the American people, seeing them instead as mere members of a threatening

     Toni Morrison's Nobel Lecture itself is a feat in language. In an attempt to portray the power of language using sophisticated language itself, Morrison is taking on a difficult task. And to make it even more impressive: she does this all through the vessel of dialogue. What fascinated me most about Morrison's lecture was her use of a conversation between an old blind woman and a group of children to demonstrate her point about the unique power of language. This rhetorical decision highlights the generational disconnect that exists in language, as young people are looking to their elders for guidance on how to use their language for good but cannot help but see the horrors the language of their generation has provoked. Morrison writes, "Do you think we are stupid enough to perjure ourselves again and again with the fiction of nationhood? How dare you talk to us of duty when we stand waist deep in the toxin of your past?" Language has immense power, and how can th

     Off the bat, Cholly is portrayed as the villain, and rightfully so. After all, what could possibly be more villainous than impregnating your own daughter? No amount of childhood trauma or difficult life situations could ever begin to justify what Cholly did, as incest is by nature unjustifiable and despicable. However, Morrison refuses to take the easy road of strict condemnation. While it would have been easy for Morrison to finalize Cholly Breedlove's characterization as an evil rapist solely by examining his perverted actions, Morrison decides to broaden her scope and tell the entire story of Cholly Breedlove, providing context for his actions. While Morrison doesn't attempt to provide justification for Cholly's actions, she does wish to give the reader an explanation as to what put Cholly in the mental state to consider such an act, making a point about the detrimental impacts of American society on the mental sanity of black people during this time period.     To