I am tired of all the talk,
talk about doing
doing something:
I’ll run, give him a smack
see what he thinks then- about abstinence.
I’ll throw paint at the canvas,
ruin the brushes,
“holing” the plane,
twirling and reciting in the grass,
looking at the sky
the divinity in all,
turn crimson and yellow and orange from absorbing
fill fill fill every direction.
No Joyce no paralysis
Rub elbows with love.
Sanford, pencil
Sanford, hall
Sand
Rand
Run
Running
Running far
Forever
Alvarito
Por siempre
Sarah Grenier Sarah 1
Ms. Robinson
Honors English III
July 31, 2007
In Response: “Sisters, family: Surviving Clutter daughters hope to preserve their parent’s legacy”
When an author takes the time to eloquently write a book about murders of a family, one would expect immediate animosity from the remaining family members, but to hold a grudge for almost half a century sounds like some one hasn’t conquered a certain stage of grief: anger. I believe the remaining children and their families have a very minimal right to be upset about the portrayal of their family when they denied numerous requests for interviews. They claimed, “Mr. Capote did not honor his agreement, nor did he talk to any family members or friends who could have provided accurate and reliable information about the family.” Were they not as equally guilty for not trying to clarify the story knowing it would be published? With all of the memorials dedicated to the deceased family, one representation of the blunt truth isn’t to atrocious. I think they don’t like the book because it represents the things they don’t want to remember. Second of all, the author of this article, Patrick Smith, was reporting bias work like this statement, “The scrapbooks and stories portray the family the way no one else has — certainly not Truman Capote, whose book, “In Cold Blood,” told of the Clutter family murders in Holcomb, Kan., in November 1959.” This article is in my viewpoint is unprofessional. I support Capote’s work from a literary standpoint and don’t feel as though he asked too much.
Sarah Grenier
Ms. Robinson
Honors English III
July 30, 2007
Justice.
An extended amount of humanity believes that if we’ve been wronged, we may punish the wrong doers righteously, especially murderers. But, because we have the capability does not imply that we can assume the roll of any higher being or simply nature by taking lives; we do not give life. That right is not ours. The higher being or nature is the only one that breaths life. We are the mediums of this miracle; and therefore, should not get on a high horse and claim justice is being served when we take a life. I agree with Flemming, the defense attorney in In Cold Blood, “Man is not an animal. He has a body, and he has a soul that lives forever. I don’t believe man has the right to destroy that house, a temple, in which the soul dwells” (Capote 303). Case in point, Dick Hickock and Perry Smith were equally guilty as charged, but no one deserves to be subjected to capital punishment for any reason, including deterrence or retribution.
The argument which claims that capital punishment prevents future murders by scaring people from committing the crime is logically ludicrous when you look at the psychology of murderers. One article said it best, “The death penalty is not a deterrent because most people who commit murders either do not expect to be caught or do not carefully weigh the differences between a possible execution and life in prison before they act.” The deterrence argument has no widely renowned evidence to support it, and consequently, has no significance. However, there is evidence that it “increases the likelihood of more murder” by brutalizing society.
Vengeance is an emotional impulse that has no place in a mature society with logic. We humans with consciousness have to overcome our animalistic thoughts and realize capital punishment is disproportionate in the first place because, “we do not allow torturing the torturer or raping the rapist.” Even so, there is too thin a line between revenge and justice: revenge claims to be personal and justice is societal, but I believe they are too easily interchangeable and therefore incapable to sustain any sense of morality; it’s even hypocritical when, “the law tells us that the taking of a life is wrong, then goes ahead and sets the example. Which is almost as wicked as the crime it punished” (Capote 303). It is like the saying we heard numerous times growing up, “two wrongs don’t make a right.”
Furthermore, capital punishment is too commonly accused and found guilty of killing the innocent. The statistics make you second guess our justice system: one out of eight convicts should not have been prosecuted. I also suspect the death penalty is only upheld for population control. For example, Florida, Texas, and California both have the largest population on death row and the largest state populations. Some see this coincidence as accurately proportional, but other conspirators would say they keep capital punishment around to keep the rising population level. Whether that is beneficial to society as a whole I am unsure of; but, my morals tell me there is no justice in taking any life and, therefore, no one deserves the death penalty.
Works Cited
<http://deathpenaltyinfo.msu.edu/c/about/arguments/contents.htm>.
| Sarah Grenier Sarah 1 Ms. Robinson Honors English III July 27, 2007 Capote’s Art of Characterization Most books have characters that are round and flat, static and dynamic, appealing We hear the heartfelt tales and opinions of the minor characters, such as Mrs. Hartman, because these are the people we can relate to most in the nonfiction novel. If there was a crime as dire as this one in humble Carteret County we more than likely wouldn’t be the predator or the prey: we would be the onlookers left to handle the calamitous crime within our immediate surroundings. We would experience the fear, the devastation, the loss, the pity, and even the anxiety. This is why Capote takes the time to paint these detailed portraits. Even so, they are employed to do even more than connect with the reader. Each lesser character adds to the drama of the tale by being intertwined in developing the plot. In proving my point, I’ll supply many examples: the novel begins with the introduction to Holcomb and a few of its defining residents like the postmistress and the respected Mr. Clutter. The rising action is built with the layers of meaning behind the lives of Dick and Smith, the gossip of the town folk, the troubles of the detectives, and the associations of people with the Clutter’s. More so, the testimonies of the witnesses in the trial build to the climax of the decision. The niches of the lawyers and fellow prisoners encompass the falling action of the plot. The “pretty girl in a hurry” (Capote 343), Sue Kidwell, ends the book on a melancholy yet lively note. This manipulation of characters within this text is truly a masterpiece of art work that exemplifies the talent of Capote. One character that truly satisfies my gourmet character desire is Mrs. Myrtle Clare. She strikes me with the most pungent characteristics that leave an everlasting brand on my mind; her words are wise, “So blow your nose” (Capote 69). Her duty to her deceased love is immaculate. She enjoyed the nightlife much like me. Furthermore, Mrs. Clare has a steadfast work ethic. The postmistress’s composed mindset was not afflicted by the Clutters’ vicissitude; she accepted the calamity without a hesitation. The “gaunt, trouser-wearing, woolen-shirted, cowboy-booted, ginger-colored, gingerly-tempered woman of unrevealed age” (Capote 67) is elegant is the sense of being a woman, and yet, she is true to herself. What a role model for me as not-yet-a-woman. The murderers, on the other hand, aren’t wondrous role models. Capote sat on his pedestal with a fully-cooked piece of presentation. Throughout his novel he treated the reader like a famished animal, slowly giving it pieces of the prize, the roundest understanding of Dick’s and Perry’s character one could provide. These two were fashioned in an elongated, maturing way; the reader is first presented with a bodily image of the two. Secondly, through the basic technique of conversation, characterization is illustrated indirectly. The reader gets a feel of the emotional cain and the cain with unjustified anger. From there, the personalities are split, only to the audience, from their superficial alliance. Capote has introduced the main course. The author took the background profile that he rummaged up through his research of Perry Smith and set it on the table. Capote’s matured technique was smothering the entree in a sauce of literature derived from friends and family: a letter from his father to the parole board, a letter from Barbara, a response to Barbara’s letter from the confidant Willie Jay, and a letter from Don Cullivan. Dick’s story, on the flipside, was rather dry and told accordingly. In doing so, the spectators become attached to Perry because of their knowledge of his misgivings. Sympathy is aroused. Towards the trial we read the verbatim words of the duo’s “autobiographical statements” (Capote 274). Although passion seeps through the pages of Perry’s statement -“I was frightfully scared, in fact all us children were terrified. Crying.” (Capote 274)-, Dick’s is predictably less zealous -“To make a long story short, I started going out with her,” (Capote 279). The author makes us lean in favor of Perry through the way Perry was treated by Dick in the beginning, through the presentation of Perry’s trauma enveloped life, through the dispassionate letter of Dick’s demise, and last but not least through Dick’s whining of injustice while imprisoned. It may even be safe to say that Dick is the foil character within this nonfiction novel. Speaking of nonfiction novels, I believe this narrative wouldn’t have survived without the extensive complication of presenting these characters; therefore, we should all relish in the fact that Capote’s mind is a human one. |
