(2014 midterm assignment)

Sample Student Midterm Answers 2014

#2a: Short Essay (Favorite Passage)

LITR 4231
Early American Literature
 

 

Thomas Dion

“A New Story:” Lessons on the Rules of Civility

            While preparing for class on the 21st of January, I noticed the poem; “A New Story” by Simon J. Ortiz, selected for discussion was not of the Early American Literature time period. This sparked immense curiosity as to why Professor White would decide to lead off with a poem constructed in 1992 and not one from, well, the Early Americas. I did not initially understand the poem. How could Oritz remain so calm, as he is depicted in the verses, while listening to a woman fervently digging herself into a pit of political incorrectness? Although I like to view myself as a pacifist, I am also foolhardy, and tend to sound off to people in a most uncivil manner when placed in a disagreeable position. So, why was Mr. Ortiz not following my suit, when he, in my opinion, has much more the “right” to be brassy, due to his heritage, than I do? My question was answered and expounded upon coming from a source I had but all forgotten about, a pamphlet titled Remarks Concerning the Savages of North America by the Humanist champion – Benjamin Franklin.

            “A New Story” begins naïvely enough with a woman looking for an “Indian.” Looking at this term of convenience in a different light, would an American enjoy being called a Canadian, a Frenchmen, or a Christian called a Muslim? Probably not, Columbus was incorrect when giving these people that name and we should all stop using it since we know this or risk looking very foolish. Furthermore, while watching an interview with Simon J. Ortiz on the Native American Writers website, he says that “indigenous” is the word he would much rather use, because “Indian” carries to much negative weight in society. (I could not agree more). So why did Ortiz in the poem stop “this woman” from continuing forward? If we allow ourselves to assume that the cultural practices of the Indigenous tribes of New England can represent the symbol of all Indigenous tribes; then Ortiz’s politeness and refusal to interrupt can be interpreted as the first rule of conversation for Indigenous tribes, observed by Benjamin Franklin, “He[or she] that would speak, rises. The rest observe a profound silence” (469). Yet, this kind of civility can lead to confusion of what is on Ortiz’s mind, since his only response to each question is “Yes.” Yes I hear you? Yes I understand you? Yes, I agree? Which is it? This may suggest civility beyond letting someone have their turn to speak, but one in which disputes are avoided causing a negative reaction in understanding what the other person has on their mind. Luckily for the reader, whatever the confusion we get from Ortiz lack of dialogue, we gain from paying close attention to “this woman’s” subtext.

            The woman spares no time informing Ortiz of the rich heritage the town has in celebrating its frontier roots. One can almost hear the same respectful tone a southerner takes while expressing their feelings of the Confederate flag as a symbol of “heritage, not hate” during the intermission at a reenactment of First Manassas; when she says, “It’s exciting and important, and we have a lot of participation.” Evolving with this participation is also the eccentric pageantry of how the floats are designed and casted. No more are the celebrations like the old days of paper mache Indians and actors, no, this year they will be “authentic” by dressing up a “real Indian with feathers and paint” to put on the float. One must appreciate how authentic this image would look to “this woman.” (Personally, I am thinking of the time Doc Brown dressed poor Marty McFly and sent him back to the Wild West, as a reference to how accurate “this woman’s” perspective of how to dress an “Indian” would be.) Therefore no one should gasp at her atrocious response of “Oh good” when finding out that there were more than one “Indian” at the VA hospital. But we do anyways, because it is both ironic and tragic.

            This woman was searching for a “real Indian” and when she found one, he was in a hospital and she becomes excited. Traditionally speaking, a hospital stands as a symbol of someone not doing well, or good. In fact it means the opposite and should have initiated a response of concern, at bare minimum to find out why he and others were residing at the VA. At this point of the poem I was ready to ring “this women’s” neck. Then I realized that her ignorance was represented in her pride of the frontier. Frontier according to Webster’s New World dictionary can be “any part of a field that is still incompletely investigated.” It is not this woman’s fault for what happened to the Indigenous tribes of America; moreover, it is not even her fault for having what appears to be a shallow conception of the world. This is the result of an incomplete education stemming from a complex bureaucratic network, where knowledge slips through cracks like water through a strainer. So what of “this woman,” is there any hope of leading her into the new world of understanding?

Ortiz addresses this directly in the final fifteen lines of his poem, and the reader should immediately notice that Ortiz has dropped using quotations for the next woman’s speech. Instead he addresses us directly, as if the one, who was merely sitting and listening before, now has something to say. As Ortiz relates to us “the woman” is looking for an “Indian” once more concerning a celebration for El Draque. (He did not say that, I did). Ortiz interrupts her before she can finish explaining with a resounding, “No.” No, he will not sit and allow his stories to be swept around a rug of civil silence. It is possible to suspend a conversation for moments at a time for dialectical conversation instead of a one sided dialogue, with a day in between answers. And it is possible for the one previously talking to step back and listen for an extended amount of time. It is possible, but this would truly be a new story for us “Yahoos”…I mean Americans.