Results 1 to 10 of 10

Thread: The Lottery by Shirley Jackson

  1. #1
    SVZ
    SVZ is offline
    Do fish have boogers? SVZ's Avatar
    Join Date
    Oct 2005
    Location
    Venus
    Posts
    1,000,003,609

    Default The Lottery by Shirley Jackson

    The morning of June 27th was clear and sunny, with the fresh warmth of a full-summer day; the flowers were blossoming profusely and the grass was richly green. The people of the village began to gather in the square, between the post office and the bank, around ten o'clock; in some towns there were so many people that the lottery took two days and had to be started on June 2th. but in this village, where there were only about three hundred people, the whole lottery took less than two hours, so it could begin at ten o'clock in the morning and still be through in time to allow the villagers to get home for noon dinner.

    The children assembled first, of course. School was recently over for the summer, and the feeling of liberty sat uneasily on most of them; they tended to gather together quietly for a while before they broke into boisterous play. and their talk was still of the classroom and the teacher, of books and reprimands. Bobby Martin had already stuffed his pockets full of stones, and the other boys soon followed his example, selecting the smoothest and roundest stones; Bobby and Harry Jones and Dickie Delacroix-- the villagers pronounced this name "Dellacroy"--eventually made a great pile of stones in one corner of the square and guarded it against the raids of the other boys. The girls stood aside, talking among themselves, looking over their shoulders at the boys. and the very small children rolled in the dust or clung to the hands of their older brothers or sisters.

    Soon the men began to gather. surveying their own children, speaking of planting and rain, tractors and taxes. They stood together, away from the pile of stones in the corner, and their jokes were quiet and they smiled rather than laughed. The women, wearing faded house dresses and sweaters, came shortly after their menfolk. They greeted one another and exchanged bits of gossip as they went to join their husbands. Soon the women, standing by their husbands, began to call to their children, and the children came reluctantly, having to be called four or five times. Bobby Martin ducked under his mother's grasping hand and ran, laughing, back to the pile of stones. His father spoke up sharply, and Bobby came quickly and took his place between his father and his oldest brother.

    The lottery was conducted--as were the square dances, the teen club, the Halloween program--by Mr. Summers. who had time and energy to devote to civic activities. He was a round-faced, jovial man and he ran the coal business, and people were sorry for him. because he had no children and his wife was a scold. When he arrived in the square, carrying the black wooden box, there was a murmur of conversation among the villagers, and he waved and called. "Little late today, folks." The postmaster, Mr. Graves, followed him, carrying a three- legged stool, and the stool was put in the center of the square and Mr. Summers set the black box down on it. The villagers kept their distance, leaving a space between themselves and the stool. and when Mr. Summers said, "Some of you fellows want to give me a hand?" there was a hesitation before two men. Mr. Martin and his oldest son, Baxter. came forward to hold the box steady on the stool while Mr. Summers stirred up the papers inside it.

    The original paraphernalia for the lottery had been lost long ago, and the black box now resting on the stool had been put into use even before Old Man Warner, the oldest man in town, was born. Mr. Summers spoke frequently to the villagers about making a new box, but no one liked to upset even as much tradition as was represented by the black box. There was a story that the present box had been made with some pieces of the box that had preceded it, the one that had been constructed when the first people settled down to make a village here. Every year, after the lottery, Mr. Summers began talking again about a new box, but every year the subject was allowed to fade off without anything's being done. The black box grew shabbier each year: by now it was no longer completely black but splintered badly along one side to show the original wood color, and in some places faded or stained.

    Mr. Martin and his oldest son, Baxter, held the black box securely on the stool until Mr. Summers had stirred the papers thoroughly with his hand. Because so much of the ritual had been forgotten or discarded, Mr. Summers had been successful in having slips of paper substituted for the chips of wood that had been used for generations. Chips of wood, Mr. Summers had argued. had been all very well when the village was tiny, but now that the population was more than three hundred and likely to keep on growing, it was necessary to use something that would fit more easily into he black box. The night before the lottery, Mr. Summers and Mr. Graves made up the slips of paper and put them in the box, and it was then taken to the safe of Mr. Summers' coal company and locked up until Mr. Summers was ready to take it to the square next morning. The rest of the year, the box was put way, sometimes one place, sometimes another; it had spent one year in Mr. Graves's barn and another year underfoot in the post office. and sometimes it was set on a shelf in the Martin grocery and left there.

    There was a great deal of fussing to be done before Mr. Summers declared the lottery open. There were the lists to make up--of heads of families. heads of households in each family. members of each household in each family. There was the proper swearing-in of Mr. Summers by the postmaster, as the official of the lottery; at one time, some people remembered, there had been a recital of some sort, performed by the official of the lottery, a perfunctory. tuneless chant that had been rattled off duly each year; some people believed that the official of the lottery used to stand just so when he said or sang it, others believed that he was supposed to walk among the people, but years and years ago this p3rt of the ritual had been allowed to lapse. There had been, also, a ritual salute, which the official of the lottery had had to use in addressing each person who came up to draw from the box, but this also had changed with time, until now it was felt necessary only for the official to speak to each person approaching. Mr. Summers was very good at all this; in his clean white shirt and blue jeans. with one hand resting carelessly on the black box. he seemed very proper and important as he talked interminably to Mr. Graves and the Martins.

    Just as Mr. Summers finally left off talking and turned to the assembled villagers, Mrs. Hutchinson came hurriedly along the path to the square, her sweater thrown over her shoulders, and slid into place in the back of the crowd. "Clean forgot what day it was," she said to Mrs. Delacroix, who stood next to her, and they both laughed softly. "Thought my old man was out back stacking wood," Mrs. Hutchinson went on. "and then I looked out the window and the kids was gone, and then I remembered it was the twenty-seventh and came a-running." She dried her hands on her apron, and Mrs. Delacroix said, "You're in time, though. They're still talking away up there."

    Mrs. Hutchinson craned her neck to see through the crowd and found her husband and children standing near the front. She tapped Mrs. Delacroix on the arm as a farewell and began to make her way through the crowd. The people separated good-humoredly to let her through: two or three people said. in voices just loud enough to be heard across the crowd, "Here comes your, Missus, Hutchinson," and "Bill, she made it after all." Mrs. Hutchinson reached her husband, and Mr. Summers, who had been waiting, said cheerfully. "Thought we were going to have to get on without you, Tessie." Mrs. Hutchinson said. grinning, "Wouldn't have me leave m'dishes in the sink, now, would you. Joe?," and soft laughter ran through the crowd as the people stirred back into position after Mrs. Hutchinson's arrival.

    "Well, now." Mr. Summers said soberly, "guess we better get started, get this over with, so's we can go back to work. Anybody ain't here?"

    "Dunbar." several people said. "Dunbar. Dunbar."

    Mr. Summers consulted his list. "Clyde Dunbar." he said. "That's right. He's broke his leg, hasn't he? Who's drawing for him?"

    "Me. I guess," a woman said. and Mr. Summers turned to look at her. "Wife draws for her husband." Mr. Summers said. "Don't you have a grown boy to do it for you, Janey?" Although Mr. Summers and everyone else in the village knew the answer perfectly well, it was the business of the official of the lottery to ask such questions formally. Mr. Summers waited with an expression of polite interest while Mrs. Dunbar answered.

    "Horace's not but sixteen vet." Mrs. Dunbar said regretfully. "Guess I gotta fill in for the old man this year."

    "Right." Sr. Summers said. He made a note on the list he was holding. Then he asked, "Watson boy drawing this year?"

    A tall boy in the crowd raised his hand. "Here," he said. "I m drawing for my mother and me." He blinked his eyes nervously and ducked his head as several voices in the crowd said thin#s like "Good fellow, lack." and "Glad to see your mother's got a man to do it."

    "Well," Mr. Summers said, "guess that's everyone. Old Man Warner make it?"

    "Here," a voice said. and Mr. Summers nodded.

    A sudden hush fell on the crowd as Mr. Summers cleared his throat and looked at the list. "All ready?" he called. "Now, I'll read the names--heads of families first--and the men come up and take a paper out of the box. Keep the paper folded in your hand without looking at it until everyone has had a turn. Everything clear?"

    The people had done it so many times that they only half listened to the directions: most of them were quiet. wetting their lips. not looking around. Then Mr. Summers raised one hand high and said, "Adams." A man disengaged himself from the crowd and came forward. "Hi. Steve." Mr. Summers said. and Mr. Adams said. "Hi. Joe." They grinned at one another humorlessly and nervously. Then Mr. Adams reached into the black box and took out a folded paper. He held it firmly by one corner as he turned and went hastily back to his place in the crowd. where he stood a little apart from his family. not looking down at his hand.

    "Allen." Mr. Summers said. "Anderson.... Bentham."

    "Seems like there's no time at all between lotteries any more." Mrs. Delacroix said to Mrs. Graves in the back row.

    "Seems like we got through with the last one only last week."

    "Time sure goes fast.-- Mrs. Graves said.

    "Clark.... Delacroix"

    "There goes my old man." Mrs. Delacroix said. She held her breath while her husband went forward.

    "Dunbar," Mr. Summers said, and Mrs. Dunbar went steadily to the box while one of the women said. "Go on. Janey," and another said, "There she goes."

    "We're next." Mrs. Graves said. She watched while Mr. Graves came around from the side of the box, greeted Mr. Summers gravely and selected a slip of paper from the box. By now, all through the crowd there were men holding the small folded papers in their large hand. turning them over and over nervously Mrs. Dunbar and her two sons stood together, Mrs. Dunbar holding the slip of paper.

    "Harburt.... Hutchinson."

    "Get up there, Bill," Mrs. Hutchinson said. and the people near her laughed.

    "Jones."

    "They do say," Mr. Adams said to Old Man Warner, who stood next to him, "that over in the north village they're talking of giving up the lottery."

    Old Man Warner snorted. "Pack of crazy fools," he said. "Listening to the young folks, nothing's good enough for them. Next thing you know, they'll be wanting to go back to living in caves, nobody work any more, live hat way for a while. Used to be a saying about 'Lottery in June, corn be heavy soon.' First thing you know, we'd all be eating stewed chickweed and acorns. There's always been a lottery," he added petulantly. "Bad enough to see young Joe Summers up there joking with everybody."

    "Some places have already quit lotteries." Mrs. Adams said.

    "Nothing but trouble in that," Old Man Warner said stoutly. "Pack of young fools."

    "Martin." And Bobby Martin watched his father go forward. "Overdyke.... Percy."

    "I wish they'd hurry," Mrs. Dunbar said to her older son. "I wish they'd hurry."

    "They're almost through," her son said.

    "You get ready to run tell Dad," Mrs. Dunbar said.

    Mr. Summers called his own name and then stepped forward precisely and selected a slip from the box. Then he called, "Warner."

    "Seventy-seventh year I been in the lottery," Old Man Warner said as he went through the crowd. "Seventy-seventh time."

    "Watson" The tall boy came awkwardly through the crowd. Someone said, "Don't be nervous, Jack," and Mr. Summers said, "Take your time, son."

    "Zanini."

    After that, there was a long pause, a breathless pause, until Mr. Summers. holding his slip of paper in the air, said, "All right, fellows." For a minute, no one moved, and then all the slips of paper were opened. Suddenly, all the women began to speak at once, saving. "Who is it?," "Who's got it?," "Is it the Dunbars?," "Is it the Watsons?" Then the voices began to say, "It's Hutchinson. It's Bill," "Bill Hutchinson's got it."

    "Go tell your father," Mrs. Dunbar said to her older son.

    People began to look around to see the Hutchinsons. Bill Hutchinson was standing quiet, staring down at the paper in his hand. Suddenly. Tessie Hutchinson shouted to Mr. Summers. "You didn't give him time enough to take any paper he wanted. I saw you. It wasn't fair!"

    "Be a good sport, Tessie." Mrs. Delacroix called, and Mrs. Graves said, "All of us took the same chance."

    "Shut up, Tessie," Bill Hutchinson said.

    "Well, everyone," Mr. Summers said, "that was done pretty fast, and now we've got to be hurrying a little more to get done in time." He consulted his next list. "Bill," he said, "you draw for the Hutchinson family. You got any other households in the Hutchinsons?"

    "There's Don and Eva," Mrs. Hutchinson yelled. "Make them take their chance!"

    "Daughters draw with their husbands' families, Tessie," Mr. Summers said gently. "You know that as well as anyone else."

    "It wasn't fair," Tessie said.

    "I guess not, Joe." Bill Hutchinson said regretfully. "My daughter draws with her husband's family; that's only fair. And I've got no other family except the kids."

    "Then, as far as drawing for families is concerned, it's you," Mr. Summers said in explanation, "and as far as drawing for households is concerned, that's you, too. Right?"

    "Right," Bill Hutchinson said.

    "How many kids, Bill?" Mr. Summers asked formally.

    "Three," Bill Hutchinson said.

    "There's Bill, Jr., and Nancy, and little Dave. And Tessie and me."

    "All right, then," Mr. Summers said. "Harry, you got their tickets back?"

    Mr. Graves nodded and held up the slips of paper. "Put them in the box, then," Mr. Summers directed. "Take Bill's and put it in."

    "I think we ought to start over," Mrs. Hutchinson said, as quietly as she could. "I tell you it wasn't fair. You didn't give him time enough to choose. Everybody saw that."

    Mr. Graves had selected the five slips and put them in the box. and he dropped all the papers but those onto the ground. where the breeze caught them and lifted them off.

    "Listen, everybody," Mrs. Hutchinson was saying to the people around her.

    "Ready, Bill?" Mr. Summers asked. and Bill Hutchinson, with one quick glance around at his wife and children. nodded.

    "Remember," Mr. Summers said. "take the slips and keep them folded until each person has taken one. Harry, you help little Dave." Mr. Graves took the hand of the little boy, who came willingly with him up to the box. "Take a paper out of the box, Davy." Mr. Summers said. Davy put his hand into the box and laughed. "Take just one paper." Mr. Summers said. "Harry, you hold it for him." Mr. Graves took the child's hand and removed the folded paper from the tight fist and held it while little Dave stood next to him and looked up at him wonderingly.

    "Nancy next," Mr. Summers said. Nancy was twelve, and her school friends breathed heavily as she went forward switching her skirt, and took a slip daintily from the box "Bill, Jr.," Mr. Summers said, and Billy, his face red and his feet overlarge, near knocked the box over as he got a paper out. "Tessie," Mr. Summers said. She hesitated for a minute, looking around defiantly. and then set her lips and went up to the box. She snatched a paper out and held it behind her.

    "Bill," Mr. Summers said, and Bill Hutchinson reached into the box and felt around, bringing his hand out at last with the slip of paper in it.

    The crowd was quiet. A girl whispered, "I hope it's not Nancy," and the sound of the whisper reached the edges of the crowd.

    "It's not the way it used to be." Old Man Warner said clearly. "People ain't the way they used to be."

    "All right," Mr. Summers said. "Open the papers. Harry, you open little Dave's."

    Mr. Graves opened the slip of paper and there was a general sigh through the crowd as he held it up and everyone could see that it was blank. Nancy and Bill. Jr.. opened theirs at the same time. and both beamed and laughed. turning around to the crowd and holding their slips of paper above their heads.

    "Tessie," Mr. Summers said. There was a pause, and then Mr. Summers looked at Bill Hutchinson, and Bill unfolded his paper and showed it. It was blank.

    "It's Tessie," Mr. Summers said, and his voice was hushed. "Show us her paper. Bill."

    Bill Hutchinson went over to his wife and forced the slip of paper out of her hand. It had a black spot on it, the black spot Mr. Summers had made the night before with the heavy pencil in the coal company office. Bill Hutchinson held it up, and there was a stir in the crowd.

    "All right, folks." Mr. Summers said. "Let's finish quickly."

    Although the villagers had forgotten the ritual and lost the original black box, they still remembered to use stones. The pile of stones the boys had made earlier was ready; there were stones on the ground with the blowing scraps of paper that had come out of the box Delacroix selected a stone so large she had to pick it up with both hands and turned to Mrs. Dunbar. "Come on," she said. "Hurry up."

    Mr. Dunbar had small stones in both hands, and she said. gasping for breath. "I can't run at all. You'll have to go ahead and I'll catch up with you."

    The children had stones already. And someone gave little Davy Hutchinson few pebbles.

    Tessie Hutchinson was in the center of a cleared space by now, and she held her hands out desperately as the villagers moved in on her. "It isn't fair," she said. A stone hit her on the side of the head. Old Man Warner was saying, "Come on, come on, everyone." Steve Adams was in the front of the crowd of villagers, with Mrs. Graves beside him.

    "It isn't fair, it isn't right," Mrs. Hutchinson screamed, and then they were upon her.

  2. #2
    Friend of Gossip Rocks! buttmunch's Avatar
    Join Date
    Oct 2005
    Location
    Uranus
    Posts
    31,885

    Default Re: The Lottery by Shirley Jackson

    I LOVE THIS STORY!!! I remember the first time I read it, back in Jr. High and I just fell in love. I still read it every year or so. Thanks!
    'Those who sacrifice liberty for security deserve neither.' Ben Franklin

    "When fascism comes to America, it will be wrapped in the flag and carrying the cross."
    --Sinclair Lewis

  3. #3
    Elite Member moomies's Avatar
    Join Date
    Oct 2005
    Location
    pretending to be a lurker but I'm not quiet enough
    Posts
    15,515

    Default Re: The Lottery by Shirley Jackson

    I also read this in high school though I never really got what the theme was...
    Anyone wanna elaborate?

    If you think it's crazy, you ain't seen a thing. Just wait until we're goin down in flames.

  4. #4
    Gold Member Fonzarelli23's Avatar
    Join Date
    Oct 2005
    Location
    Arizona
    Posts
    1,274

    Default Re: The Lottery by Shirley Jackson

    I remember seeing this made into a Lifetime movie with Keri Russell. I don't know why but it disturbed me so much. Seeing the daughter stone her mother to death didn't settle so well with me.

    Moomies---my understanding is every year a small town has a drawing to see who will be stoned to death. I think it's done as a 'sacrifice' for the well-being of the town.

  5. #5
    SVZ
    SVZ is offline
    Do fish have boogers? SVZ's Avatar
    Join Date
    Oct 2005
    Location
    Venus
    Posts
    1,000,003,609

    Default Re: The Lottery by Shirley Jackson

    I think it's more a story about our hidden human nature, and that we're just beasts underneath.

    This comes through when they detail that the original box had been forgotten, these people have forgotten why they do this, they just do it.

    It's a horrific act, yet they show no remorse of it, the only reason they continue to do it is because they have been since they can remember.

    There's no malice, hatred, or fear from the attackers. It just has to be done.

    Perhaps it's a commentary on religion, and archaic rituals that we still perform, that make sense to us, but in reality don't.

  6. #6
    Elite Member
    Join Date
    Oct 2005
    Posts
    4,161

    Default Re: The Lottery by Shirley Jackson

    Oooh, I did a paper on this in college and got an A! I think that I wrote about the underlying theme was how people were unwilling to change "traditions", even if others were hurt, unless they themselves were affected. Basically I said the story was about selfishness.

  7. #7
    Elite Member moomies's Avatar
    Join Date
    Oct 2005
    Location
    pretending to be a lurker but I'm not quiet enough
    Posts
    15,515

    Default Re: The Lottery by Shirley Jackson

    I had to do a paper on the theme in grade 12 and I think I got a B - so I was wondering what I did wrong.
    I said the theme was that tradition becomes part of everyday life that ppl forget the original intention and the meaning of it.

    I think what hotncmom says makes sense though, ppl don't care to change it cus it's always someone else that's afflicted with it.

    If you think it's crazy, you ain't seen a thing. Just wait until we're goin down in flames.

  8. #8
    Friend of Gossip Rocks! buttmunch's Avatar
    Join Date
    Oct 2005
    Location
    Uranus
    Posts
    31,885

    Default Re: The Lottery by Shirley Jackson

    I also read this in high school though I never really got what the theme was...
    Anyone wanna elaborate?
    It's about sheep mentality and the fact, as someone pointed out, the refusal to stray from deeply ingrained traditions. The fact that even if people see that this is wrong, they willingly go along with it. Also, it's about sacrifice and the things we do in the name of a so-called higher power.
    'Those who sacrifice liberty for security deserve neither.' Ben Franklin

    "When fascism comes to America, it will be wrapped in the flag and carrying the cross."
    --Sinclair Lewis

  9. #9
    Bronze Member
    Join Date
    Oct 2005
    Posts
    2

    Default Re: The Lottery by Shirley Jackson

    Hi! This is my first post ever! I love Shirley Jackson's "The Lottery". I did an essay about it way back in my first year of university explaining how it can follow Foucault's ideas of disipline (I also applied the ideas to William Faulkner’s "A Rose for Emily"). I thought I would share part of my essay whether my ideas are right or wrong.

    Shirley Jackson’s “The Lottery” tells the story of the horrific annual lottery in a New England village. In the village, the person in power, Mr. Summers, who runs the coal business, administers the lottery, which takes place every June 27th. Mr. Summers represents wealth and power in the village because he has “time and energy to devote to civic activities.” Kosenko translates “time and energy” into Mr. Summers’ money and leisure (Kosenko, 1), while the other villagers are hard at work – the women in the home and the men in field or Summer’s coal business. In this village, policed by common social ideals, the men are the heads of the households, involved in the economy of the village, and the women are considered as subordinates to the men. Tessie Hutchinson is referred to as her husband, Bill Hutchinson’s “Missus” and thus is his property. In this year’s lottery, the Hutchinson’s daughter, Eva, will not draw in the lottery with her family, because she now belonging to her husband, and will draw with him.

    The lottery first takes place when the first settlers begin to inhabit the New England village. The lottery is the mechanism for discipline in the village. Old Man Warner, the oldest man in the village, makes clear that without the lottery, “[the villagers would] all be eating chickenweed and acorns.” (Jackson, 258). The lottery is not only a disciplinary tool, but also a device for motivation. According to Foucault, “discipline is the unitary technique by which the body is… maximized as a useful source.” (Foucault, 221) and the Foucault’s Panotipicon, “has a role of amplification… its aim is to strengthen the social forces – to increase production.” (Foucault, 208). If this is the case, then the villagers have reason to ask if either the Dunbars or Watsons were this year’s lottery “winners”. The Dunbars and Watsons are the most unproductive families in the village. Clyde Dunbar has a broken leg, and the head of the Watson family has passed away. In this sense, the lottery is disciplining and motivating the villagers to be productive, as Old Man Warner states, “Lottery in June, corn be heavy soon.” (Jackson, 258). If the villagers were productive in a given year, then they should have no fear in being selected as the lottery’s victim, and would be considered exempt from the lottery. The fact that Old Man Warner has participated in seventy-seven lotteries shows that his work mentality has saved him from being the victim of the lottery.

    But why then is Tessie Hutchinson chosen by Jackson as being this year’s victim? Even though the lottery’s victim is randomly chosen, there is still the underlying idea that if someone is considered economically productive, and abides by social norms, can be saved from the fate of the harsh discipline that accompanies being chosen as the lottery’s victim. Tessie Hutchinson is guilty of not following societies rules imposed on her and the others in the village. First, Tessie arrives late to the village square for the annual lottery -- the lottery being so fundamental to the village, and she almost forgot to attend. Second, When Summers calls out Bill Hutchinson’s name, Tessie says, “Get up there, Bill” (Jackson, 258), thus shifting her husband’s power to herself. “The people near her laughed,” (Jackson, 250) indicates that she has dishonored the social code. She also answers for Bill when Summers asks him about how many others live in his household. Her behaviour, as decided by the lottery and observed by the villagers is determined to be unacceptable, and she needs to be disciplined, even if the discipline entails being stoned to death. When the stoning begins, Tessie Hutchinson is singled out amongst a group of more than three hundred villagers and made into a example of social disobedience and a model of what can happen if one strays away from the social norms put in place by society. Again, Foucault’s ideas of discipline and incorporation of Panopticism, can be applied to the village in which the “The Lottery” takes place. The village is socially policed in terms of the lottery seeming to choose its victims based on social behaviours and productivity.

    Foucault’s ideas of Panopticism and Discipline, from Discipline and Punishment, as found in William Faulkner’s “A Rose for Emily” and Shirley Jackson’s “The Lottery” detail the idea of the individual being disciplined by social faux pas such as breaking social rules, belonging to a certain social class, or by not being a valuable member of society. The lottery in Jackson’s “The Lottery”, arbitrarily chooses its victim, however there are underlying reasons why one is chosen, and others are not. The annual lottery acts as what Foucault would describe as a disciplinary procedure, to weed those out of society who fail to be socially obedient, and those who are under productive. Furthermore, the person chosen will go on to become an example of what can happen if you break society’s regulations.

  10. #10
    Elite Member moomies's Avatar
    Join Date
    Oct 2005
    Location
    pretending to be a lurker but I'm not quiet enough
    Posts
    15,515

    Default Re: The Lottery by Shirley Jackson

    Thanx for your input everyone.


    Sheep mentality is such a good description buttmunch, I wish I thought of it back in grade 12.

    I love your analysis Lehringer. I love Foucault. It's really cool that you incorporated his concept of discipline in your anaysis. I majored in anthropology, social anthropology to be exact, so I only studied Foucault in anthro/socio confines but it's soo cool that you could apply his theories to literature analysis.

    This is making me miss academia...

    If you think it's crazy, you ain't seen a thing. Just wait until we're goin down in flames.

Thread Information

Users Browsing this Thread

There are currently 1 users browsing this thread. (0 members and 1 guests)

Similar Threads

  1. Shirley Bassey's nose job
    By NHKMM in forum Rhinoplasty
    Replies: 2
    Last Post: December 20th, 2006, 05:56 PM
  2. Shirley Temple Movies
    By PrettyGirl in forum Television and Movies
    Replies: 6
    Last Post: September 13th, 2006, 12:24 AM

Posting Permissions

  • You may not post new threads
  • You may not post replies
  • You may not post attachments
  • You may not edit your posts
  •