Veiel AP Lit

Salmon, rice, and eggs. That sounds like a fairly tasty meal, and certainly not the standard slop a dog might expect to receive. However, this is the final meal of White Dog. Why does the woman act with this small yet significant amount of care towards this dog, who she knows is not long for this world?  After finishing his treat, the dog and the woman share an expression of affection, as she "[rubs] his stomach and his tail [thumps] against the wooden steps" (10). As dogs are prone to do, White Dog trusts his owner completely. She has cared for him, and in turn he remains loyal to her. White Dog then loyally follows the woman across the yard, to the tree where he will meet his end. As readers, it becomes clear to us what White Dog's fate is to be the moment the woman ties him to this tree, and assures him that "'You've been a good dog'" (11). But White Dog makes no such realization. Or perhaps he does. Perhaps he knows what it to come, but even so o...

Executive Order 9066 did not only characterize those of Japanese ancestry as enemies of the United States. Beyond targeting the individual, by placing all with Japanese blood into this same category the entirety of Japanese culture was vilified. Whatever American culture one might have adopted became inconsequential; at their core, Japanese-Americans were still just Japanese in the eyes of the government and the public, and this fact was made to be a point of shame. We see this in the novel as the woman finishes packing, rolling up her "Oriental rug" (7). When the rug is rolled up, the the intricate patterns it contains and the culture expressed therein become concealed by layer on top of layer of more and more rug. Additionally, the woman removes the "tiny bonsai tree" (7) from the inside of her home, and takes it out into the yard. Interestingly though, she does so still with great care for the tree's wellbeing, placing it "beneath the eaves where it woul...

Morrison opens this speech by explaining a story she has heard "in the lore of several cultures." A wise, old, blind woman is mocked by a group of youths who ask about a bird they hold in their hands. They charge her to determine if the bird is alive or dead, and she responds that all she knows it that it is in their hands. It may be dead, naturally or by their hands, or it may live, but ultimately still be at the mercy of its captors.  Morrison goes on to say that she likes to think of "the bird as language and the woman as a practiced writer." Language she equates to agency, and the writer is the one with the ability and the duty to protect it. Just as the wise old woman feels a concern for the bird and contempt for those who have violated it, a practiced writer ought to revere language and encourage its good use. After all, as Morrison says, language is a mortal thing which might be killed by "carelessness, disuse, indifference and absence of esteem." L...