21st Century Literature Study Guide PDF, Silliman University Senior High School, 4th Quarter 2023-2024

A Study Guide for 21st Century Literature from the Philippines and the World Silliman University Senior High School SY 2023-2024 4th quarter  1 BONSAI Edith Tiempo All that I love I fold over once And once a...

A Study Guide for 21st Century Literature from the Philippines and the World Silliman University Senior High School SY 2023-2024 4th quarter  1 BONSAI Edith Tiempo All that I love I fold over once And once again And keep in a box Or a slit in a hollow post Or in my shoe. All that I love? Why, yes, but for the moment And for all time, both. Something that folds and keeps easy, Son’s note or Dad’s one gaudy tie, A roto picture of a queen, A blue Indian shawl, even A money bill. It’s utter sublimation, A feat, this heart’s control Moment to moment To scale all love down To a cupped hand’s size. Till seashells are broken pieces From God’s own bright teeth, And life and love are real Things you can run and Breathless hand over To the merest child. *** Guide Questions: 1. Who is the persona/speaker? 2. What is happening in the poem? 3. How does the poem reconcile the paradox of keeping love “for the moment 4. and all time, both” and “scaling love and life down to a cupped hand’s size”? 5. What metaphors are used to signify meaning? 6. Why is the poem entitled “Bonsai”? Silliman University Senior High School SY 2023-2024 4th quarter  2 The Story of an Hour Kate Chopin Knowing that Mrs. Mallard was afflicted with a heart trouble, great care was taken to break to her as gently as possible the news of her husband’s death. It was her sister Josephine who told her, in broken sentences; veiled hints that revealed in half concealing. Her husband’s friend Richards was there, too, near her. It was he who had been in the newspaper office when intelligence of the railroad disaster was received, with Brently Mallard’s name leading the list of “killed.” He had only taken the time to assure himself of its truth by a second telegram, and had hastened to forestall any less careful, less tender friend in bearing the sad message. She did not hear the story as many women have heard the same, with a paralyzed inability to accept its significance. She wept at once, with sudden, wild abandonment, in her sister’s arms. When the storm of grief had spent itself she went away to her room alone. She would have no one follow her. There stood, facing the open window, a comfortable, roomy armchair. Into this she sank, pressed down by a physical exhaustion that haunted her body and seemed to reach into her soul. She could see in the open square before her house the tops of trees that were all aquiver with the new spring life. The delicious breath of rain was in the air. In the street below a peddler was crying his wares. The notes of a distant song which some one was singing reached her faintly, and countless sparrows were twittering in the eaves. There were patches of blue sky showing here and there through the clouds that had met and piled one above the other in the west facing her window. She sat with her head thrown back upon the cushion of the chair, quite motionless, except when a sob came up into her throat and shook her, as a child who has cried itself to sleep continues to sob in its dreams. She was young, with a fair, calm face, whose lines bespoke repression and even a certain strength. But now there was a dull stare in her eyes, whose gaze was fixed away off yonder on one of those patches of blue sky. It was not a glance of reflection, but rather indicated a suspension of intelligent thought. There was something coming to her and she was waiting for it, fearfully. What was it? She did not know; it was too subtle and elusive to name. But she felt it, creeping out of the sky, reaching toward her through the sounds, the scents, the color that filled the air. Now her bosom rose and fell tumultuously. She was beginning to recognize this thing that was approaching to possess her, and she was striving to beat it back with her will--as powerless as her two white slender hands would have been. When she abandoned herself a little whispered word escaped her slightly parted lips. She said it over and over under her breath: “free, free, free!” The vacant stare and the look of terror that had followed it went from her eyes. They stayed keen and bright. Her pulses beat fast, and the coursing blood warmed and relaxed every inch of her body. She did not stop to ask if it were or were not a monstrous joy that held her. A clear and exalted perception enabled her to dismiss the suggestion as trivial. She knew that she would weep again when she saw the kind, tender hands folded in death; the face that had never looked save with love upon her, fixed and gray and dead. But she saw beyond that bitter moment a long procession of years to Silliman University Senior High School SY 2023-2024 4th quarter  3 come that would belong to her absolutely. And she opened and spread her arms out to them in welcome. There would be no one to live for during those coming years; she would live for herself. There would be no powerful will bending hers in that blind persistence with which men and women believe they have a right to impose a private will upon a fellow-creature. A kind intention or a cruel intention made the act seem no less a crime as she looked upon it in that brief moment of illumination. And yet she had loved him--sometimes. Often she had not. What did it matter! What could love, the unsolved mystery, count for in the face of this possession of self-assertion which she suddenly recognized as the strongest impulse of her being! “Free! Body and soul free!” she kept whispering. Josephine was kneeling before the closed door with her lips to the keyhold, imploring for admission. “Louise, open the door! I beg; open the door--you will make yourself ill. What are you doing, Louise? For heaven’s sake open the door.” “Go away. I am not making myself ill.” No; she was drinking in a very elixir of life through that open window. Her fancy was running riot along those days ahead of her. Spring days, and summer days, and all sorts of days that would be her own. She breathed a quick prayer that life might be long. It was only yesterday she had thought with a shudder that life might be long. She arose at length and opened the door to her sister’s importunities. There was a feverish triumph in her eyes, and she carried herself unwittingly like a goddess of Victory. She clasped her sister’s waist, and together they descended the stairs. Richards stood waiting for them at the bottom. Some one was opening the front door with a latchkey. It was Brently Mallard who entered, a little travel-stained, composedly carrying his grip-sack and umbrella. He had been far from the scene of the accident, and did not even know there had been one. He stood amazed at Josephine’s piercing cry; at Richards’ quick motion to screen him from the view of his wife. When the doctors came they said she had died of heart disease—of the joy that kills. *** Guide Questions: 1. How would you describe the main character/protagonist? 2. How did Mrs. Mallard react to the news that her husband died? 3. When Mrs. Mallard was alone in her room, what did she see from the open 4. room window? Describe the sight, sound, and smell from the scene. What 5. does this scenery mean for Mrs. Mallard? 6. What does it mean when she uttered, “Free! Body and Soul, Free!” 7. Is Mr. Mallard an unkind man? How did she describe him? 8. What is the conflict of the story? 9. What is the “joy that kills”? Of what does Mrs. Mallard die? 10. In what way did the setting (Mrs. Mallard’s home in Midwest America, late 11. 1800s) influence the main character’s behavior and perspective? Silliman University Senior High School SY 2023-2024 4th quarter  4 Karma Khushwant Singh Sir Mohan Lal looked at himself in the mirror of a first class waiting room at the railway station. The mirror was obviously made in India. The red oxide at its back had come off at several places and long lines of translucent glass cut across its surface. Sir Mohan smiled at the mirror with an air of pity and patronage. ‘You are so very much like everything else in this country, inefficient, dirty, indifferent,’ he murmured. The mirror smiled back at Sir Mohan. ‘You are a bit of all right, old chap,’ it said. ‘Distinguished, efficient - even handsome. That neatly- trimmed moustache - the suit from Saville Row with the carnation in the buttonhole - the aroma of eau de cologne, talcum powder and scented soap all about you! Yes, old fellow, you are a bit of all right.’ Sir Mohan threw out his chest, smoothed his Balliol tie for the umpteenth time and waved a goodbye to the mirror. He glanced at his watch. There was still time for a quick one. ‘Koi Hai!’ A bearer in white livery appeared through a wire gauze door. ‘Ek Chota,’ ordered Sir Mohan, and sank into a large cane chair to drink and ruminate. Outside the waiting room, Sir Mohan Lal’s luggage lay piled along the wall. On a small grey steel trunk, Lachmi, Lady Mohan Lal, sat chewing a betel leaf and fanning herself with a newspaper. She was short and fat and in her middle forties. She wore a dirty white sari with a red border. On one side of her nose glistened a diamond nose-ring, and she had several gold bangles on her arms. She had been talking to the bearer until Sir Mohan had summoned him inside. As soon as he had gone, she hailed a passing railway coolie. ‘Where does the zenana stop?’ ‘Right at the end of the platform.’ The coolie flattened his turban to make a cushion, hoisted the steel trunk on his head, and moved down the platform. Lady Lal picked up her brass tiffin carrier and ambled along behind him. On the way she stopped by a hawker’s stall to replenish her silver betel leaf case, and then joined the coolie. She sat down on her steel trunk (which the coolie had put down) and started talking to him. "Are the trains very crowded on these lines?" ‘These days all trains are crowded, but you’ll find room in the zenana.’ ‘Then I might as well get over the bother of eating.’ Silliman University Senior High School SY 2023-2024 4th quarter  5 Lady Lal opened the brass carrier and took out a bundle of cramped chapatties and some mango pickle. While she ate, the coolie sat opposite her on his haunches, drawing lines in the gravel with his finger. ‘Are you travelling alone, sister?’ ‘No, I am with my master, brother. He is in the waiting room. He travels first class. He is a vizier and a barrister, and meets so many officers and Englishmen in the trains - and I am only a native woman. I can’t understand English and don’t know their ways, so I keep to my zenana inter-class.’ Lachmi chatted away merrily. She was fond of a little gossip and had no one to talk to at home. Her husband never had any time to spare for her. She lived in the upper storey of the house and he on the ground floor. He did not like her poor illiterate relatives hanging around his bungalow, so they never came. He came up to her once in a while at night and stayed for a few minutes. He just ordered her about in anglicised Hindustani, and she obeyed passively. These nocturnal visits had, however, borne no fruit. The signal came down and the clanging of the bell announced the approaching train. Lady Lal hurriedly finished off her meal. She got up, still licking the stone of the pickled mango. She emitted a long, loud belch as she went to the public tap to rinse her mouth and wash her hands. After washing she dried her mouth and hands with the loose end of her sari, and walked back to her steel trunk, belching and thanking the Gods for the favour of a filling meal. The train steamed in. Lachmi found herself facing an almost empty inter-class zenana compartment next to the guard’s van, at the tail end of the train. The rest of the train was packed. She heaved her squat, bulky frame through the door and found a seat by the window. She produced a two-anna bit from a knot in her sari and dismissed the coolie. She then opened her betel case and made herself two betel leaves charged with a red and white paste, minced betelnuts and cardamoms. These she thrust into her mouth till her cheeks bulged on both sides. Then she rested her chin on her hands and sat gazing idly at the jostling crowd on the platform. The arrival of the train did not disturb Sir Mohan Lal’s sang-froid. He continued to sip his scotch and ordered the bearer to tell him when he had moved the luggage to a first class compartment. Excitement, bustle and hurry were exhibitions of bad breeding, and Sir Mohan was eminently well-bred. He wanted everything ‘tickety-boo’ and orderly. In his five years abroad, Sir Mohan had acquired the manners and attitudes of the upper classes. He rarely spoke Hindustani. When he did, it was like an Englishman’s - only the very necessary words and properly anglicised. But he fancied his English, finished and refined at no less a place than the University of Oxford. He was fond of conversation, and like a cultured Englishman, he could talk on almost any subject - books, politics, people. How frequently had he heard English people say that he spoke like an Englishman! Sir Mohan wondered if he would be travelling alone. It was a Cantonment and some English officers might be on the train. His heart warmed at the prospect of an impressive conversation. He never showed any sign of eagerness to talk to the English as most Indians did. Nor was he loud, aggressive and opinionated like them. He went about his business with an expressionless matter-of-factness. He would retire to his corner by the window and get out a copy of The Times. He would fold it in a way in which the name of the paper was visible to others while he did the crossword puzzle. The Times always attracted attention. Someone would like to borrow it when he put it aside with a gesture signifying ‘I’ve finished with it.’ Perhaps someone would recognize his Balliol tie which he always wore while travelling. That would open a vista leading to a fairy-land of Oxford colleges, masters, Silliman University Senior High School SY 2023-2024 4th quarter  6 dons, tutors, boat-races and rugger matches. If both The Times and the tie failed, Sir Mohan would ‘Koi Hai’ his bearer to get the Scotch out. Whiskey never failed with Englishmen. Then followed Sir Mohan’s handsome gold cigarette case filled with English cigarettes. English cigarettes in India? How on earth did he get them? Sure he didn’t mind? And Sir Mohan’s understanding smile - of course he didn’t. But could he use the Englishman as a medium to commune with his dear old England? Those five years of grey bags and gowns, of sports blazers and mixed doubles, of dinners at the inns of Court and nights with Piccadilly prostitutes. Five years of a crowded glorious life. Worth far more than the forty-five in India with his dirty, vulgar countrymen, with sordid details of the road to success, of nocturnal visits to the upper storey and all-too-brief sexual acts with obese old Lachmi, smelling of sweat and raw onions. Sir Mohan’s thoughts were disturbed by the bearer announcing the installation of the Sahib’s luggage in a first class coupe next to the engine. Sir Mohan walked to his coupe with a studied gait. He was dismayed. The compartment was empty. With a sigh he sat down in a corner and opened the copy of ‘The Times’, he had read several times before. Sir Mohan looked out of the window down the crowded platform. His face lit up as he saw two English soldiers trudging along, looking in all the compartments for room. They had their haversacks slung behind their backs and walked unsteadily. Sir Mohan decided to welcome them, even though they were entitled to travel only second class. He would speak to the guard. One of the soldiers came up to the last compartment and stuck his face through the window. He surveyed the compartment and noticed the unoccupied berth. ‘Ere, Bill, he shouted, ‘one ere.’ His companion came up, also looked in, and looked at Sir Mohan. ‘Get the nigger out,’ he muttered to his companion. They opened the door, and turned to the half-smiling, half-protesting Sir Mohan. ‘Reserved!’ yelled Bill. ‘Janta - Reserved. Army - Fauj,’ exclaimed Jim, pointing to his khaki shirt. ‘Ek Dum jao - get out!" ‘I say, I say, surely,’ protested Sir Mohan in his Oxford accent. The soldiers paused. It almost sounded like English, but they knew better than to trust their inebriated ears. The engine whistled and the guard waved his green flag. They picked up Sir Mohan’s suitcase and flung it on to the platform. Then followed his thermos flask, briefcase, bedding and The Times. Sir Mohan was livid with rage. ‘Preposterous, preposterous,’ he shouted, hoarse with anger. ‘I’ll have you arrested - guard, guard!’ Bill and Jim paused again. It did sound like English, but it was too much of the King’s for them. ‘Keep yer ruddy mouth shut!’ And Jim struck Sir Mohan flat on the face. Silliman University Senior High School SY 2023-2024 4th quarter  7 The engine gave another short whistle and the train began to move. The soldiers caught Sir Mohan by the arms and flung him out of the train. He reeled backwards, tripped on his bedding, and landed on the suitcase. ‘Toodle-oo!’ Sir Mohan’s feet were glued to the earth and he lost his speech. He stared at the lighted windows of the train going past him in quickening tempo. The tail-end of the train appeared with a red light and the guard standing in the open doorway with the flags in his hands. In the inter-class zenana compartment was Lachmi, fair and fat, on whose nose the diamond nose- ring glistened against the station lights. Her mouth was bloated with betel saliva which she had been storing up to spit as soon as the train had cleared the station. As the train sped past the lighted part of the platform, Lady Lal spat and sent a jet of red dribble flying across like a dart. *** Guide Questions: FEMINIST LENS How is the Lachmi portrayed as a woman—is she a weak or strong character? Is she a victim or an empowered individual? Use feminist theory to analyze Lady Lal and her relationship with her husband. POLITICAL-ECONOMIC/MARXIST LENS What is the socio-economic status of the main character? How does this affect his behavior towards others around him? Explore instances wherein the “caste system” becomes apparent in the text. NEW HISTORICIST LENS What historical events and contexts are directly referenced or alluded to in “Karma”? How do these events shape the characters and their actions in the story? In what ways does "Karma" reflect or challenge prevailing historical narratives or myths about India and its people during the period in which it is set? POST-COLONIAL LENS What does the story reveal about the problematics of post-colonial identity? Explore the theme of identity in the story in the context of historical events like partition, nationalism, and the struggle for independence. How do characters grapple with their identities in this context? READER-RESPONSE LENS Do you like the text? Why or why not? How much does the text agree or clash with your view of the world, and what you consider right and wrong? Critique the text. Silliman University Senior High School SY 2023-2024 4th quarter  8 Love Poems: for Self-Study When reading the love poems in the succeeding pages, consider the following table as guide. “Balaki Ko ‘Day Sonnet 116 “Love After 1 Corinthians 13 Samtang Love” Gasakay Ta’g Habal-Habal” Persona Situation Literary Elements (e.g., metaphors, imagery) What does it say about LOVE? Silliman University Senior High School SY 2023-2024 4th quarter  9 Balaki Ko ‘Day Samtang Gasakay Ta’g Habal-Habal Adonis Durado Balaki ko ‘day Samtang gasakay tag habalhabal. Idat-ol ug samot Kanang imong dughan Nganhi sa akong bukobuko Aron mas mabatyag ko Ang hinagubtob Sa imong kasingkasing. Sa mga libaong nga atong malabyan, Gaksa ko paghugot Sama sa lastikong Mipugong sa imong buhok. Ug sa kainit sa imong ginhawa Gitika kining akong dunggan. Ang mga balili unya Nga nanghalok sa akong batiis Isipon tang kaugalingong mga dila. Dayon samtang nagkatulin Kining atong dagan, Mamiyong tag manghangad Ngadto sa kawanangan Aron sugaton ang taligsik Sa uwan, dahon, ug bulak. *** Silliman University Senior High School SY 2023-2024 4th quarter  10 Sonnet 116 William Shakespeare Let me not to the marriage of true minds Admit impediments. Love is not love Which alters when it alteration finds, Or bends with the remover to remove. O no! it is an ever-fixed mark That looks on tempests and is never shaken; It is the star to every wand’ring bark, Whose worth’s unknown, although his height be taken. Love’s not Time’s fool, though rosy lips and cheeks Within his bending sickle’s compass come; Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks, But bears it out even to the edge of doom. If this be error and upon me prov’d, I never writ, nor no man ever lov’d. *** Silliman University Senior High School SY 2023-2024 4th quarter  11 Love After Love Derek Walcott The time will come when, with elation you will greet yourself arriving at your own door, in your own mirror and each will smile at the other’s welcome, and say, sit here. Eat. You will love again the stranger who was your self. Give wine. Give bread. Give back your heart to itself, to the stranger who has loved you all your life, whom you ignored for another, who knows you by heart. Take down the love letters from the bookshelf, the photographs, the desperate notes, peel your own image from the mirror. Sit. Feast on your life. *** Silliman University Senior High School SY 2023-2024 4th quarter  12 1 Corinthians 13 (NIV) St. Paul / Saul of Tarsus 13 1 If I speak in the tongues[a] of men or of angels, but do not have love, I am only a resounding gong or a clanging cymbal. 2 If I have the gift of prophecy and can fathom all mysteries and all knowledge, and if I have a faith that can move mountains, but do not have love, I am nothing. 3 If I give all I possess to the poor and give over my body to hardship that I may boast[b], but do not have love, I gain nothing. 4 Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. 5 It does not dishonor others, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. 6 Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. 7 It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres. 8 Love never fails. But where there are prophecies, they will cease; where there are tongues, they will be stilled; where there is knowledge, it will pass away. 9 For we know in part and we prophesy in part, 10 but when completeness comes, what is in part disappears. 11 When I was a child, I talked like a child, I thought like a child, I reasoned like a child. When I became a man, I put the ways of childhood behind me. 12 For now we see only a reflection as in a mirror; then we shall see face to face. Now I know in part; then I shall know fully, even as I am fully known. 13 And now these three remain: faith, hope and love. But the greatest of these is love. Footnotes: 1. 1 Corinthians 13:1 Or languages 2. 1 Corinthians 13:3 Some manuscripts body to the flames *** Silliman University Senior High School SY 2023-2024 4th quarter