What Does an English Major Do?
Often people imagine that English majors are the students on campus who write the most, whether it be essays, articles, or fiction. I have have found that Creative Writing majors seem to write a great deal more than I have. I make the distinction that English majors critique what the Creative Writing majors create.
My last post (yes, written far too long ago) touched upon the small CW side of me. However, my predominant English major side shall now take hold of my thoughts long dormant. We all have unique interpretations of what we read and often people view these varying interpretations as all correct. I did for a very long time until I took a Critical Perspectives upper-division course in which my professor told a student flat out that his idea regarding Walt Whitman's "The 29th Bather" was wrong. I think that the whole class sat rigid with utter surprise that that particular sentence had been uttered. My professor explained that while we are all entitled to personal responses, some interpretations are much more valid to the entirety of the work than are others.
I thank you all for your comments and observations on my last work, قاصدک, and, unlike my professor, I would say that all of your comments touched upon ideas which I had in store. My mother also talked with me intensely about my piece. I might say that her initial interpretation was much more along the lines of "wrong" than the others. She wondered if the main character symbolized my feelings of being cast off from love.
As would be expected, I have an interpretation of my own. Much of my meaning rises from small implications in the story which the average reader may not understand, as was my intention. In previous posts, I have mentioned how I love when different cultures encounter each other in beautiful ways. This piece tried to capture that feeling.
In Persian culture, a قاصدک (pronounced ghasedak) is a small floating plant particle, a dandelion seed. (The title stands as one of the only signals of a connection to Persian culture.) As, hopefully, you gathered from my post, if it lands on you, it means that you have good news coming to you. I learned this from reading a poem written by M.A. Saless as part of my Farsi lessons during the summer. I found it very interesting that my mother had always told my brother and I that if you caught a flying dandelion seed, which we called fairies, you could make a wish if you let it go afterwards. How, two continents and an ocean apart, these two cultures could carry such a similar tradition astounds me!
The two women at the beginning of my piece set up the story. When writing, I thought about mentioning their veils, but I realized that the native ghasedak would not mention that article of clothing, as it is normal attire for women in Iran. The older man with the beard stands for the dangers of blind, conservatism which contains the hazards of forgetting to see beauty and possible benefits in change. The young boy (the only symbol of white, U.S. culture through use of his blond hair and staccato language) does not hesitate to hold beauty in his hands and wish good for the future. The complementing of cultures comes when both the boy and the ghasedak are blessed through their mutual touching of one another.
I hope that you all enjoyed my piece and I would like to hear more elaboration (and critique).
My last post (yes, written far too long ago) touched upon the small CW side of me. However, my predominant English major side shall now take hold of my thoughts long dormant. We all have unique interpretations of what we read and often people view these varying interpretations as all correct. I did for a very long time until I took a Critical Perspectives upper-division course in which my professor told a student flat out that his idea regarding Walt Whitman's "The 29th Bather" was wrong. I think that the whole class sat rigid with utter surprise that that particular sentence had been uttered. My professor explained that while we are all entitled to personal responses, some interpretations are much more valid to the entirety of the work than are others.
I thank you all for your comments and observations on my last work, قاصدک, and, unlike my professor, I would say that all of your comments touched upon ideas which I had in store. My mother also talked with me intensely about my piece. I might say that her initial interpretation was much more along the lines of "wrong" than the others. She wondered if the main character symbolized my feelings of being cast off from love.
As would be expected, I have an interpretation of my own. Much of my meaning rises from small implications in the story which the average reader may not understand, as was my intention. In previous posts, I have mentioned how I love when different cultures encounter each other in beautiful ways. This piece tried to capture that feeling.
In Persian culture, a قاصدک (pronounced ghasedak) is a small floating plant particle, a dandelion seed. (The title stands as one of the only signals of a connection to Persian culture.) As, hopefully, you gathered from my post, if it lands on you, it means that you have good news coming to you. I learned this from reading a poem written by M.A. Saless as part of my Farsi lessons during the summer. I found it very interesting that my mother had always told my brother and I that if you caught a flying dandelion seed, which we called fairies, you could make a wish if you let it go afterwards. How, two continents and an ocean apart, these two cultures could carry such a similar tradition astounds me!
The two women at the beginning of my piece set up the story. When writing, I thought about mentioning their veils, but I realized that the native ghasedak would not mention that article of clothing, as it is normal attire for women in Iran. The older man with the beard stands for the dangers of blind, conservatism which contains the hazards of forgetting to see beauty and possible benefits in change. The young boy (the only symbol of white, U.S. culture through use of his blond hair and staccato language) does not hesitate to hold beauty in his hands and wish good for the future. The complementing of cultures comes when both the boy and the ghasedak are blessed through their mutual touching of one another.
I hope that you all enjoyed my piece and I would like to hear more elaboration (and critique).
Leave a comment...
posted by bellevoce | 10:42 AM
3 Comments:
I'm an English Major with a minor in creative writing, and I find that I generate more words for my creative writing classes, but that the writing assignments for my English classes take longer. I think that this is due to the nature of the assignments. I think that critical writing for English classes requires more thought before hand, while creative writing requires more thought after the fact. Maybe, in reality, it's the same amount of work, but I like the easiness of generating creative writing (although, probably often not as well constructed as my critical writing). It's just that with creative writing, the work happens after there are words there-- all of the revision. It's easier to find a place to begin, and therefore satisfying to just have words. I think that's what I'm saying. I feel like critical writing takes longer to initiate. I think what you said about English Majors critiquing what creative writing majors write is completely true. I never thought of it that way.
Check out my blog-- http://harford3c.blogspot.com. It's about my life with my English Major/Minor suitemates and our conversations about English and writing.
I hope that you all enjoyed my piece and I would like to hear more elaboration (and critique).
I just stopped by to see where and how you were. Good to see you back. I assure I will make time to read the post below and give you my thoughts on it as, by what little I've seen, am certainly interested.
Oh, a dandelion seed. Well, well, well that makes sense. I wasn't even close.
I certainly hope I find a dandelion seed on my shoulder some day :)
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