Modern Criticism of Stowe’s Uncle Tom’s Cabin Essay -- Uncle Toms Cabi

Modern Criticism of Stowe’s Uncle Tom’s Cabin It is extremely difficult for the modern reader to understand and appreciate Uncle Tom’s Cabin because Harriet Beecher Stowe was writing for an audience very different from us. We don’t share the cultural values and myths of Stowe’s time, so her novel doesn’t affect us the way it affected its original readers. For this reason, Uncle Tom’s Cabin has been heavily scrutinized by the modern critic. However, the aspects of the novel that are criticized now are the same aspects that held so much appeal for its original audience. Many people condemn Uncle Tom’s Cabin simply because it is a sentimental novel. This genre appeals to the reader’s emotions in order to enact social change. While popular during Stowe’s time, the sentimental novel is now scorned by many members of the academy, such as Baldwin: â€Å"Uncle Tom’s Cabin is a very bad novel, having, in its self-righteous, virtuous sentimentality, much in common with Little Women† (496). Some modern readers are repulsed by Stowe’s desire to reform society, but that is because in our times the purpose of literature is to represent the world, not change it. Because the modern critic finds it hard to identify with Stowe’s genuine desire to improve society, he sees it as an example of her self-righteousness. Because the sentimental novel appeals to the reader’s emotions, many of its scenes may strike the modern reader as overly dramatic. Baldwin claims "the ostentatious parading of excessive and spurious emotion, is the mark of dishonesty, the inability to feel; the wet eyes of the sentimentalist betray his aversion to experience, his fear of life, his arid heart; and it is always, therefore, the signal of secret and violent inhumani... ...lture. Most twenty-first century readers are annoyed by the novel’s sentimentality, the religious undertones, and the martyr figures, among other things, but these same qualities that we dislike are what appealed to the novel’s original audience. Being outsiders, it is hard for us to accept Stowe’s message that love must conquer social injustices. However, one must wonder if her own contemporaries accepted this message, since Stowe would have seen the Civil War as forcing change within society without eliminating the prejudices that produced it. Bibliography Baldwin, James. â€Å"Everybody’s Protest Novel.† Uncle Tom’s Cabin. Ed. Elizabeth Ammons. New York: W.W. Norton & Company; 1994. 495-501. Tompkins, Jane. â€Å"Sentimental Power: Uncle Tom’s Cabin and the Politics of Literary History.† Uncle Tom’s Cabin. Ed. Elizabeth Ammons. New York: Norton; 1994. 501-522. Modern Criticism of Stowe’s Uncle Tom’s Cabin Essay -- Uncle Toms Cabi Modern Criticism of Stowe’s Uncle Tom’s Cabin It is extremely difficult for the modern reader to understand and appreciate Uncle Tom’s Cabin because Harriet Beecher Stowe was writing for an audience very different from us. We don’t share the cultural values and myths of Stowe’s time, so her novel doesn’t affect us the way it affected its original readers. For this reason, Uncle Tom’s Cabin has been heavily scrutinized by the modern critic. However, the aspects of the novel that are criticized now are the same aspects that held so much appeal for its original audience. Many people condemn Uncle Tom’s Cabin simply because it is a sentimental novel. This genre appeals to the reader’s emotions in order to enact social change. While popular during Stowe’s time, the sentimental novel is now scorned by many members of the academy, such as Baldwin: â€Å"Uncle Tom’s Cabin is a very bad novel, having, in its self-righteous, virtuous sentimentality, much in common with Little Women† (496). Some modern readers are repulsed by Stowe’s desire to reform society, but that is because in our times the purpose of literature is to represent the world, not change it. Because the modern critic finds it hard to identify with Stowe’s genuine desire to improve society, he sees it as an example of her self-righteousness. Because the sentimental novel appeals to the reader’s emotions, many of its scenes may strike the modern reader as overly dramatic. Baldwin claims "the ostentatious parading of excessive and spurious emotion, is the mark of dishonesty, the inability to feel; the wet eyes of the sentimentalist betray his aversion to experience, his fear of life, his arid heart; and it is always, therefore, the signal of secret and violent inhumani... ...lture. Most twenty-first century readers are annoyed by the novel’s sentimentality, the religious undertones, and the martyr figures, among other things, but these same qualities that we dislike are what appealed to the novel’s original audience. Being outsiders, it is hard for us to accept Stowe’s message that love must conquer social injustices. However, one must wonder if her own contemporaries accepted this message, since Stowe would have seen the Civil War as forcing change within society without eliminating the prejudices that produced it. Bibliography Baldwin, James. â€Å"Everybody’s Protest Novel.† Uncle Tom’s Cabin. Ed. Elizabeth Ammons. New York: W.W. Norton & Company; 1994. 495-501. Tompkins, Jane. â€Å"Sentimental Power: Uncle Tom’s Cabin and the Politics of Literary History.† Uncle Tom’s Cabin. Ed. Elizabeth Ammons. New York: Norton; 1994. 501-522.

Old And New Imperialism :: Imperialism History Essays

  Ã‚  Ã‚  Ã‚  Ã‚  There were two different time periods where Imperialism occurred. The first wave of imperialism, called the 'Old' Imperialism, lasted from around 1500 - 1800. The 'New' Imperialism lasted from around 1870 - 1914. The three main differences that we will discuss today are the differences in economics, politics, and the motive behind all of this.   Ã‚  Ã‚  Ã‚  Ã‚  The new and the old waves of imperialism were very much different through economics. The old economics was pretty much all about trading, they imply bought the wares brought to them by the native merchants. They didn?t have much of a money system; it was sort of a trade system. Also in old imperialism they had trade commerce on much of the coast in South America as well as Islands near Asia and England. So the wave of old imperialism was all about trading. However, the new imperialism had a different economic idea. They didn?t just want the goods of native merchants; they wanted special types of predicts. They would move into countries to get their products. Instead of having trade centers along coasts, they would set up plantations, docks, and factories in other countries. They also got as much money as they could out of people; it was all about getting money in the new imperialism unlike that of the old imperialism.   Ã‚  Ã‚  Ã‚  Ã‚  The new and old waves of imperialism also differed politically. In new imperialism, they wanted to dominate politically, they wanted their politics to dominate and rule everything. They wanted to dominate in order to secure their investments. Although in old imperialism the people didn?t care so much to have political power everywhere, they just wanted someone to rule them and keep trade going in the countries that they are living in.   Ã‚  Ã‚  Ã‚  Ã‚     Ã‚  Ã‚  Ã‚  Ã‚  The motive in the new wave of imperialism and in the old wave of imperialism had a great difference. Old imperialism?s motives was mainly about bringing civilization to other countries, and teach them how to live. They just wanted glory, gold, and they wanted the satisfaction of thinking they did something good in Gods eyes. But the new motive is completely different. In the new wave of imperialism they wanted to take over already largely populated areas.

Education in Allegory of the Cave

It is usually said that education is the key to success. This saying amplifies the focus on success and hinders the complexity of education. In The Allegory of the Cave, Plato exploits Darkness, intermediacy and Enlightenment to demonstrate education as a complex journey of achieving knowledge. Through exploring Allegory of the cave, the first stage of education is darkness. Darkness is figuratively where one is obstructed from gaining knowledge.Plato high lights this point and writes, â€Å"—human beings living in an underground den, which has a mouth open towards the light and reaching all along den; here they have been from childhood, and have their legs and necks chained so that they cannot move, and can only see before them, being prevented by chains from turning around their heads. † ( ¶ 1) When the prisoners are in the darkness, this symbolizes their ignorance and lack knowledge. Although there is always a way that leads to gaining knowledge, there are obstacle s that prevent the prisoners from pursuing knowledge.The exit that leads to the â€Å"light† shows that there is a way that leads to gaining knowledge. The â€Å"legs and necks† being bound demonstrates the obstacles that are preventing the prisoners from pursuing knowledge which limits them to be short sighted and only see what is â€Å"before them†. Darkness is the initial stage in education that is hindering the prisoners from gaining knowledge. Darkness led to a stage of intermediacy that involves challenges and adjusting from ignorance to knowledgeable.Plato continues, â€Å"—if the prisoners are released and disabused of their error. At first, when any of them is liberated and compelled to suddenly stand up and turn his neck around and walk and look towards the light, he will suffer sharp pains; the glare will distress him and he will be unable to see the realities—â€Å" ( ¶ 15) When Darkness is figuratively gone and there are no obstacl e, the prisoner has a weak excuse not to pursue knowledge. When the prisoner is breaking from inertia by standing up, the prisoner experiences â€Å"sharp pains. This reveals the resistance to change that the prisoner has from being ignorant to being knowledgeable. The â€Å"glare† afflicting the prisoner announces that the prisoner was figuratively in darkness before and the â€Å"distress† the prisoner experiences is the process of learning. The intermediate stage in education is a learning stage of adjusting from ignorance. Through intermediacy was the rise of enlightenment. Enlightenment symbolizes a phase where knowledge is gained and one is completely informed.Towards the end of â€Å"The Allegory of the Cave† Plato writes, â€Å"Last of all he will be able to see the sun, and not mere reflections of him in the water, but he will see him in his own proper place, and not in another; and he will contemplate him as he is. † ( ¶ 23) In â€Å"The All egory of the Cave†, the hierarchy of light shows the â€Å"sun† to be at metaphorically the highest level. The prisoner having the ability to catch sight of the â€Å"sun† reveals that he is enlightened, thus he has gained knowledge to comprehend.The prisoner also experiences a completely new perspective due to the knowledge he gained. Enlightenment is the final complex stage in education where one obtains knowledge. Throughout â€Å"The Allegory of the Cave†, The process of achieving knowledge is through darkness, intermediacy and enlightenment. Darkness consists of barriers that interfere with one pursuit of knowledge. Intermediacy is a learning stage that leads to enlightenment of gaining knowledge. Plato affirmed education as a derange journey.

Owen’s perception on religion based on Anthem for Doomed Youth and Futility Essay

How would you describe Owen’s perception on religion based on Anthem for Doomed Youth and Futility? Owen questioned the existence of religion through different ways in both poem. In Anthem for Doomed Youth, he used war related images to replace what a ‘normal’ funeral would have which in contrast shows the absence of religion. For Futility, he questioned the existence of God when it is needed. Both expression suggests he was not a follower of religion instead he has a strong point of view on it. His view on religion could be impacted by the despair that was caused by war. The tone of the first stanza in Futility was very gentle. The image of the sun suggests light, warmth, hope and even god himself. Owen personified the sun as â€Å"old† and â€Å"kind† adding warmth to the tone. The warm tone of the first four lines of the poem suggests he once had faith in religion even in â€Å"France† which could be a reference to war. â€Å"Until† the soldier was killed on this â€Å"morning† and this â€Å"snow†. The word â€Å"morning† sounds like â€Å"mourning† creating a sad imagery and â€Å"snow† which suggests the cold, the opposite of warmth, the devil. Although the soldier’s life was already taken he still had faith in god, he believed there â€Å"might† be a possibility that the sun, the god could bring life from dead again. Moving on the second stanza, the change of tone is very obvious. This is suggested through the demanding word â€Å"think†. The harsh â€Å"k† sound conveys the frustration and desperation the poet has for god. â€Å"Seeds† suggests growth and â€Å"clays of the cold star† is a biblical imagery because man are made from clay, both suggests the beginning of life. If the sun is the mother of creation why can’t he resurrect this soldier yet God himself rose from the dead? Yet the many stories of God healing man from all sort of diseases are given life again but not this fallen soldier whose body is â€Å"still warm†? Owen described the body as â€Å"so dear-achieved†, this is a praise to god’s creation. Why could god create such majestic mankind yet he could not bring life back to the solider? Here Owen repetitively questioned and mocked the existence of god, where is he when he is needed? â€Å"Was it for this the clay grew tall† this line is very important because it links to the title of the poem, Futility, what is the point of life when it ends in death, again a heavy tone of mockery is hinted through this line. Owen described the sunbeams as â€Å"fatuous† again the pointlessness of the sending warm to mankind when all they do is brutally destroy each other, indirectly calling god foolish and questioning his existence. Rhetorical questions are repetitively used to express the poet’s frustration, the pointlessness of life and to make the reader’s think. ‘Anthem for Doomed Youth’ the title is a juxtaposition as a opening to a poem full of irony. Throughout the entire poem Owen compared religious rituals to striking war imagery suggesting religion are not the saints they claim to be,instead just like war they are also covered in blood and sins. Owen opened the poem with a rhetorical question emphasizing on the worthlessness of the lives of the soldiers. The intention of â€Å"Passing-bells† was to bring attention that the soul is now passing to the other world and scare the devil away from obtaining this soul yet Owen compared the bells to â€Å"monstrous anger of the guns† and â€Å"stuttering rifles’ rapid rattle†. The word â€Å"monstrous† suggests destruction,death and evilness. Alliteration was used to mimic the sound of gun fires. Using these evil death related imagery as a substitute for â€Å"passing bells† suggests the devil have already obtained these souls,the evil won. The soldiers died as a â€Å"cattle†,could be linked to religious rituals such as sacrifice. But not sacrificing for the kind but the evil. â€Å"Hasty† was used to describe the eulogy for the soldiers,there’s no time for respectful eulogy,the war would not stop for one fallen soldier or even hundreds it will still go on. These soldiers are just sacrifices to the bigger image since the churches at the time supported war,they believed it was rein-acting the bible,they believed these deaths were worth it because they thought it will bring them to a better place. Again the irony,churches were suppose to spread peace yet they were the one who supported violence,they supported the evil acts. â€Å"No mockeries† for the soldiers because their deaths have no dignity nor honour. It also suggests the attitude Owen has for religion, â€Å"mockeries† as these religion rituals are just for the surface. These rituals does not make their deaths more honourable, does not take away sorrow from their family ,does not bring their lives back. The confusing comparisons Owen listed throughout the poem by substituting evil images for religious rituals makes the reader question if there is a difference between light and dark,could it be the same thing? Could the church be the devil in disguise? All these religion rituals at a funeral could be a mask for the dirty works of the devil,as a comfort for the family believing that their loved ones died honourably when their bodies was simply lined up and thrown into the underground which links to hell,going back to who they served in the war the devil. These two poems both expressed Owen’s perception on religion very clearly. He questioned the existence and purpose of religion.

Sociology and Modernity

Modernity is one phrase that is complex to define. This is because no precise definition of modernity that is globally accepted has been decided upon. This is inclusive of the sociology field that has seen so many theories brought about to define modernity. However, we can have a general definition defining modernity as a post-middle age era that is discernible with a drastic change from the pre-modern concept of agrarianism to a world of industrialization, capitalism, urbanization, rationalization and general social change that was tremendously adopted by the entire world, though having its root origins in Europe in the times around 1700. Renaissance was the immediate time that preceded modernity; renaissance in this case referring to the last moments of the middle-aged era. This era was all about scientific and industrial revolution that saw the rise of many inventions that have come to define the modernity of modernization. The social change can be attributed to the enlightenment of human kind as Immanuel Kant stated in one of his famous books. Many definitions have been thus brought up in the field of sociology and by different philosophers. Karl Marx defines modernity as a capitalist revolution. Capitalism is a state of economic status that is based on individualism in that an individual invests in different ownerships or businesses for the sole purpose of personal benefits or for profit motive. He therefore sees modernity as an evil phenomenon and seriously criticizes it. On the other hand, Max Weber defines modernity on the basis of personal beliefs that eventually lead to the social changes that occur in modernization. He sees modernity as a trend that leads to the reduction in traditional values and beefs up rationalization that he so much fears would eventually corrode off humanity. He is so pessimistic on the effects of modernity given the mean definition that he gives to the phenomenon. The last of the philosophers to provide a definition in our essay will be Emile Durkheim. Durkheim at least had an optimistic definition of modernity, though not entirely optimistic. He defined modernity on the basis of labor division. He believed that modernity would bring in the world the concept of diversification of economic activities in the human society. He saw modernization as a shift of change in the way the community operated; the solidarity change from mechanical to organic. On the pessimistic side, he however dreads anomie, a state that describes minimal moral guidance provided to individuals in the society (Calhoun, Gerteis, and Moody 46). As defined in the introductory part, modernity carries along different social changes and cultural values that define a clear-cut difference from the same elements that were experienced in the pre-modern age. Modernity has greatly affected the basis of the family in the world today. The family as an institution, coupled with many other things like marriage, morality and religion have all been compromised. In the pre-modern age, the morality of the society stemmed from the family institution. Thus, the cautiousness that was always involved in the upbringing of a moral family was the number one priority by the family heads at that time (Macionis 4). Politics has undergone dynamic transformation due to the effect modernity. In the pre-modern days, politics was not as dominative as it is in the modern world. Modernity has caused governments to have a very dominative hand by heavily regulating its citizens by very intricate and uncongenial bureaucratic formation. The economy is another entity that has defined modernity. In the pre-modern era, economy was defined by agrarian productivity. This can even be demonstrated by the Feudalist system of government that existed in Europe. This system of a political system involved land being exchanged in turn for services. It was a system where the lords, who were the land owners, gave out land to vassals, who were the tenants. The land in this kind of political system was referred to as fief. However, the economy in the modern society has completely taken a twist, with capitalism being the system. Capitalism centered on the personal interests and profits motive of either an individual or a country. This means no rational prioritization will be taken if at all a country or an individual has the aim of making profit. This is a system that was widely condemned by philosophers such as Karl Marx (Calhoun, Gerteis, Moody, Pfaff, and Virk 122). The different philosophers who came up with the various definitions of modernity had varied expectations and predictions that would come along modernity. Karl Marx had a very pessimistic view of modernity. He highly criticized capitalism, an economy system that he claimed set in with modernity. He sees capitalism as a profit motivated system and therefore a selfish system. He also feared the rise of classes in the society, something that he describes as the baby of capitalism. He abhorrently condemns capitalism as greed and self interest and had very pessimistic expectations of the modern world. He foresees challenges such as extreme poverty while other countries swam in a lot of wealth, all with the advent of a capitalist economy. Max Weber, with his definition of modernity being based on human rationality, had his fears on the degradation of humanity. Weber was also pessimistic on the way modernity would transform the world. He foresaw the alienation of social justice that would set in as a result of the change in individuals beliefs brought about by modernity (Calhoun et al 122). Among these three philosophers, Emile Durkheim at least had an optimistic view of the setting in of modernity. With his definition of modernity being based on the division of labor, he saw modernity bringing in drastic growth of the economy. This would occur due to labor diversification and specialization that would equally distribute human resource to every economic activity. His expectations for the advent of modernity were therefore high. Despite him having these positive expectations, he had a fear of anomie. This is a state where there is slow degradation of morals in the society due to disregard of moral guidance by human who would have all their minds set towards the development of the economy. The subject of modernity has always raised a lot of arguments. Many philosophers have brought up theories trying to define modernity but no articular theory has been globally accepted to define modernity. With this essay though, we have had an overview of the various definitions of modernity by the three philosophers: Karl Marx, Emile Durkheim and Max Weber. We have also seen their premonitions, feelings and expectations of modernity. Different aspects of modernity and the change of these aspects that affect modernity have been discussed and compared to with the pre-modern age. However, even with all these, it should still be clear that there still exists no precise definition of modernity and the term is open to any belief that any person could come up with.

A History of African Music Essay

Music Essay African music roots start in every aspect of society. Their culture is formed from there environment hunting but mostly on their tradition. Their music reflects this not only is it entertaining it serves as a way to pass knowledge and stories to the next generation. African music has a variety of different instruments that they use throughout their songs. Music in African culture also has very strong spiritual and religious meanings. The recent history of African musical influence has played a large part in encouraging the current trend toward African musical appreciation. During the 1950s, when the Africans experienced rapid urbanization and a relatively booming economy, the two French-speaking colonies of the Congo area witnessed the birth of an African version of the Cuban rumba played by small American-style orchestras. Some artists that are African are Afro-National, Khaled Agag, Eric Agyeman, and Mahmoud Ahmed. Other than using their voices, which has been developed to use various techniques, they use a wide array of musical instruments are used. African musical instruments include a wide range of drums, slit gongs, rattles, double bells, and melodic instruments including string instruments. Other percussion instruments include many rattles and shakers, such as the kosika, rain stick, bells and wood sticks. Also, Africa has lots of other types of drums, and lots of flutes, and lots of stringed and wind instruments. The traditional tribal African music has deep meaning in its lyrics along with its rhythm and beat, its lyrics often tell of struggles, religion, and day to day life. The Africans would perform rituals to try to please the gods, these rituals would include music made by the high priest the instruments used would be tribal drums and a rain stick. The lyrics would be similar to Christian hymns in our modern culture

The Twilight Saga 2: New Moon Chapter 16 PARIS

AT THAT MOMENT, MY HEAD BROKE THE SURFACE. How disorienting. I'd been sure I was sinking. The current wouldn't let up. It was slamming me against more rocks; they beat against the center of my back sharply, rhythmically, pushing the water from my lungs. It gushed out in amazing volume, absolute torrents pouring from my mouth and nose. The salt burned and my lungs burned and my throat was too full of water to catch a breath and the rocks were hurting my back. Somehow I stayed in one place, though the waves still heaved around me. I couldn't see anything but water everywhere, reaching for my face. â€Å"Breathe!† a voice, wild with anxiety, ordered, and I felt a cruel stab of pain wher I recognized the voicebecause it wasn't Edward's. I could not obey. The waterfall pouring from my mouth didn't stop long enough for me to catch a breath. The black, icy water filled my chest, burning. The rock smacked into my back again, right between my shoulder blades, and another volley of water choked its way out of my lungs. â€Å"Breathe, Bella! C'mon!† Jacob begged. Black spots bloomed across my vision, getting wider and wider, blocking out the light. The rock struck me again. The rock wasn't cold like the water; it was hot on my skin. I realized it was Jacob's hand, trying to beat the water from my lungs. The iron bar that had dragged me from the sea was also warm My head whirled, the black spots covered everything Was I dying again, then? I didn't like itthis wasn't as good as the last time. It was only dark now, nothing worth looking at here. The sound of the crashing waves faded into the black and became a quiet, even whoosh that sounded like it was coming from the inside of my ears â€Å"Bella?† Jacob asked, his voice still tense, but not as wild as before. â€Å"Bells, honey, can you hear me?† The contents of my head swished and rolled sickeningly, like they'd joined the rough water â€Å"How long has she been unconscious?† someone else asked. The voice that was not Jacob's shocked me, jarred me into a more focused awareness. I realized that I was still. There was no tug of the current on methe heaving was inside my head. The surface under me was flat and motionless. It felt grainy against my bare arms. â€Å"I don't know,† Jacob reported, still frantic. His voice was very close. Handsso warm they had to be hisbrushed wet hair from my cheeks. â€Å"A few minutes? It didn't take long to tow her to the beach.† The quiet whooshing inside my ears was not the wavesit was the air moving in and out of my lungs again. Each breath burnedthe passageways were as raw as if I'd scrubbed them out with steel wool. But I was breathing. And I was freezing. A thousand sharp, icy beads were striking my face and arms, making the cold worse. â€Å"She's breathing. She'll come around. We should get her out of the cold, though. I don't like the color she's turning† I recognized Sam's voice this time. â€Å"You think it's okay to move her?† â€Å"She didn't hurt her back or anything when she fell?† â€Å"I don't know.† They hesitated. I tried to open my eyes. It took me a minute, but then I could see the dark, purple clouds, flinging the freezing rain down at me. â€Å"Jake?† I croaked. Jacob's face blocked out the sky. â€Å"Oh!† he gasped, relief washing over his features. His eyes were wet from the rain. â€Å"Oh, Bella! Are you okay? Can you hear me? Do you hurt anywhere?† â€Å"J-Just m-my throat,† I stuttered, my lips quivering from the cold. â€Å"Let's get you out of here, then,† Jacob said. He slid his arms under me and lifted me without effortlike picking up an empty box. His chest was bare and warm; he hunched his shoulders to keep the rain off of me. My head lolled over his arm. I stared vacantly back toward the furious water, beating the sand behindhim. â€Å"You got her?† I heard Sam ask. â€Å"Yeah, I'll take it from here. Get back to the hospital. I'll join you later. Thanks, Sam.† My head was still rolling. None of his words sunk in at first. Sam didn't answer. There was no sound, and I wondered if he were already gone. The water licked and writhed up the sand after us as Jacob carried me away, like it was angry that I'd escaped. As I stared wearily, a spark of color caught my unfocused eyesa small flash of fire was dancing on the black water, far out in the bay. The image made no sense, and I wondered how conscious I really was. My head swirled with the memory of the black, churning waterof being so lost that I couldn't find up or down. So lost but somehow Jacob â€Å"How did you find me?† I rasped. â€Å"I was searching for you,† he told me. He was half-jogging through the rain, up the beach toward the road. â€Å"I followed the tire tracks to your truck, and then I heard you scream† He shuddered. â€Å"Why would you jump, Bella? Didn't you notice that it's turning into a hurricane out here? Couldn't you have waited for me?† Anger filled his tone as the relief faded. â€Å"Sorry,† I muttered. â€Å"It was stupid.† â€Å"Yeah, it was really stupid,† he agreed, drops of rain shaking free of his hair as he nodded. â€Å"Look, do you mind saving the stupid stuff for when I'm around? I won't be able to concentrate if I think you're jumping off cliffs behind my back.† â€Å"Sure,† I agreed. â€Å"No problem.† I sounded like a chain-smoker. I tried to clear my throatand then winced; the throat-clearing felt like stabbing a knife down there. â€Å"What happened today? Did you find her?† It was my turn to shudder, though I wasn't so cold here, right next to his ridiculous body heat. Jacob shook his head. He was still more running than walking as he headed up the road to his house. â€Å"No. She took off into the waterthe bloodsuckers have the advantage there. That's why I raced homeI was afraid she was going to double back swimming. You spend so much time on the beach† He trailed off, a catch in his throat. â€Å"Sam came back with you is everyone else home, too?† I hoped they weren't still out searching for her. â€Å"Yeah. Sort of.† I tried to read his expression, squinting into the hammering rain. His eyes were tight with worry or pain. The words that hadn't made sense before suddenly did. â€Å"You said hospital. Before, to Sam. Is someone hurt? Did she fight you?† My voice jumped up an octave, sounding strange with the hoarseness. â€Å"No, no. When we got back, Em was waiting with the news. It's Harry Clearwater. Harry had a heart attack this morning.† â€Å"Harry?† I shook my head, trying to absorb what he was staying. â€Å"Oh, no! Does Charlie know?† â€Å"Yeah. He's over there, too, with my dad.† â€Å"Is Harry going to be okay?† Jacob's eyes tightened again. â€Å"It doesn't look so great right now.† Abruptly, I felt really sick with guiltfelt truly horrible about the brainless cliff dive. Nobody needed to be worrying about me right now. What a stupid time to be reckless. â€Å"What can I do?† I asked. At that moment the rain stopped. I hadn't realized we were already back to Jacob's house until he walked through the door. The storm pounded against the roof. â€Å"You can stay here,† Jacob said as he dumped me on the short couch. â€Å"I mean itright here I'll get you some dry clothes.† I let my eyes adjust to the dark room while Jacob banged around in his bedroom. The cramped front room seemed so empty without Billy, almost desolate. It was strangely ominousprobably just because I knew where he was. Jacob was back in seconds. He threw a pile of gray cotton at me. â€Å"These will be huge on you, but it's the best I've got. I'll, er, step outside so you can change.† â€Å"Don't go anywhere. I'm too tired to move yet. Just stay with me.† Jacob sat on the floor next to me, his back against the couch. I wondered when he'd slept last. He looked as exhausted as I felt. He leaned his head on the cushion next to mine and yawned. â€Å"Guess I could rest for a minute† His eyes closed. I let mine slide shut, too. Poor Harry. Poor Sue. I knew Charlie was going to be beside himself. Harry was one of his best friends. Despite Jake's negative take on things, I hoped fervently that Harry would pull through. For Charlie's sake. For Sue's and Leah's and Seth's Billy's sofa was right next to the radiator, and I was warm now, despite my soaked clothes. My lungs ached in a way that pushed me toward unconsciousness rather than keeping me awake. I wondered vaguely if it was wrong to sleep or was I getting drowning mixed up with concussions ? Jacob began softly snoring, and the sound of it soothed like a lullaby. I fell asleep quickly. For the first time in a very long time, my dream was just a normal dream. Just a blurred wandering through old memoriesblinding bright visions of the Phoenix sun, my mother's face, a ramshackle tree house, a faded quilt, a wall of mirrors, a flame on the black water I forgot each of them as soon as the picture changed. The last picture was the only one that stuck in my head. It was meaninglessjust a set on a stage. A balcony at night, a painted moon hanging in the sky. I watched the girl in her nightdress lean on the railing and talk to herself. Meaningless but when I slowly struggled back to consciousness, Juliet was on my mind. Jacob was still asleep; he'd slumped down to the floor and his breathing was deep and even. The house was darker now than before, it was black outside the window. I was stiff, but warm and almost dry. The inside of my throat burned with every breath I took. I was going to have to get upat least to get a drink. But my body just wanted tc he here limp, to never move again. Instead of moving, I thought about Juliet some more. I wondered what she would have done if Romeo had left her, not because he was banished, but because he lost interests What if Rosalind had given him the time of day, and he'd changed his mind? What if, instead of marrying Juliet, he'd just disappeared? I thought I knew how Juliet would feel. She wouldn't go back to her old life, not really. She wouldn't ever have moved on, I was sure of that. Even if she'd lived until she was old and gray, every time she closed her eyes, it would have been Romeo's face she saw behind her lids. She would have accepted that, eventually. I wondered if she would have married Paris in the end, just to please her parents, to keep the peace. No, probably not, I decided. But then, the story didn't say much about Paris. He was just a stick figurea placeholder, a threat, a deadline to force her hand. What if there were more to Paris? What if Paris had been Juliet's friend? Her very best friend? What if he was the only one she could confide in about the whole devastating thing with Romeo? The one person who really understood her and made her feel halfway human again? What if he was patient and kind? What if he took care of her? What if Juliet knew she couldn't survive without him? What if he really loved her, and wanted her to be happy? And what if she loved Paris? Not like Romeo. Nothing like that, of course. But enough that she wanted him to be happy, too? Jacob's slow, deep breathing was the only sound in the roomlike a lullaby hummed to a child, like the whisper of a rocking chair, like the ticking of an old clock when you had nowhere you needed to goIt was the sound of comfort. If Romeo was really gone, never coming back, would it have mattered whether or not Juliet had taken Paris up on his offer? Maybe she should have tried to settle into the leftover scraps of life that were left behind. Maybe that would have been as close to happiness as she could get. I sighed, and then groaned when the sigh scraped my throat. I was reading too much into the story. Romeo wouldn't change his mind. That's why people still remembered his name, always twined with hers: Romeo and Juliet. That's why it was a good story. â€Å"Juliet gets dumped and ends up with Paris† would have never been a hit. I closed my eyes and drifted again, letting my mind wander away from the stupid play I didn't want to think about anymore. I thought about reality insteadabout jumping off the cliff and what a brainless mistake that had been. And not just the cliff, but the motorcycles and the whole irresponsible Evel Knievel bit. What if something bad happened to me? What would that do to Charlie? Harry's heart attack had pushed everything suddenly into perspective for me. Perspective that I didn't want to see, becauseif I admitted to the truth of itit would mean that I would have to change my ways. Could I live like that? Maybe. It wouldn't be easy; in fact, it would be downright miserable to give up my hallucinations and try to be a grown-up. But maybe I should do it. And maybe I could. If I had Jacob. I couldn't make that decision right now. It hurt too much. I'd think about something else. Images from my ill-considered afternoon stunt rolled through my head while I tried to come up with something pleasant to think about the feel of the air as I fell, the blackness of the water, the thrashing of the current Edward's face I lingered there for a long time. Jacob's warm hands, trying to beat life back into me the stinging rain flung down by the purple clouds the strange fire on the waves There was something familiar about that flash of color on top of the water. Of course it couldn't really be fire My thoughts were interrupted by the sound of a car squelching through the mud on the road outside. I heard it stop in front of the house, and doors started opening and closing. I thought about sitting up, and then decided against that idea. Billy's voice was easily identifiable, but he kept it uncharacteristically low, so that it was only a gravelly grumble. The door opened, and the light flicked on. I blinked, momentarily blind. Jake startled awake, gasping and jumping to his feet. â€Å"Sorry,† Billy grunted. â€Å"Did we wake you?† My eyes slowly focused on his face, and then, as I could read his expression, they filled with tears. â€Å"Oh, no, Billy!† I moaned. He nodded slowly, his expression hard with grief. Jake hurried to his father and took one of his hands. The pain made his face suddenly childlikeit looked odd on top of the man's body. Sam was right behind Billy, pushing his chair through the door. His normal composure was absent from his agonized face. â€Å"I'm so sorry,† I whispered. Billy nodded. â€Å"It's gonna be hard all around.† â€Å"Where's Charlie?† â€Å"Your dad is still at the hospital with Sue. There are a lot of arrangements to be made.† I swallowed hard. â€Å"I'd better get back there,† Sam mumbled, and he ducked hastily out the door. Billy pulled his hand away from Jacob, and then he rolled himself through the kitchen toward his room. Jake stared after him for a minute, then came to sit on the floor beside me again. He put his face in his hands. I rubbed his shoulder, wishing I could think of anything to say. After a long moment, Jacob caught my hand and held it to his face. â€Å"How are you feeling? Are you okay? I probably should have taken you to a doctor or something.† He sighed. â€Å"Don't worry about me,† I croaked. He twisted his head to look at me. His eyes were rimmed in red. â€Å"You don't look so good.† â€Å"I don't feel so good, either, I guess.† â€Å"I'll go get your truck and then take you homeyou probably ought to be there when Charlie gets back.† â€Å"Right.† I lay listlessly on the sofa while I waited for him. Billy was silent in the other room. I felt like a peeping torn, peering through the cracks at a private sorrow that wasn't mine. It didn't take Jake long. The roar of my truck's engine broke the silence before I expected it. He helped me up from the couch without speaking, keeping his arm around my shoulder when the cold air outside made me shiver. He took the driver's seat without asking, and then pulled me next to his side to keep his arm tight around me. I leaned my head against his chest. â€Å"How will you get home?† I asked. â€Å"I'm not going home. We still haven't caught the bloodsucker, remember?† My next shudder had nothing to do with cold. It was a quiet ride after that. The cold air had woken me up. My mind was alert, and it was working very hard and very fast. What if? What was the right thing to do? I couldn't imagine my life without Jacob nowI cringed away from the idea of even trying to imagine that. Somehow, he'd become essential to my survival. But to leave things the way they were was that cruel, as Mike had accused? I remembered wishing that Jacob were my brother. I realized now that all I really wanted was a claim on him. It didn't feel brotherly when he held me like this. It just felt nicewarm and comforting and familiar. Safe. Jacob was a safe harbor. I could stake a claim. I had that much within my power. I'd have to tell him everything, I knew that. It was the only way to be fair. I'd have to explain it right, so that he'd know I wasn't settling, that he was much too good for me. He already knew I was broken, that part wouldn't surprise him, but he'd need to know the extent of it. I'd even have to admit that I was crazyexplain about the voices I heard. He'd need to know everything before he made a decision. But, even as I recognized that necessity, I knew he would take me in spite of it all. He wouldn't even pause to think it through. I would have to commit to thiscommit as much of me as there was left, every one of the broken pieces. It was the only way to be fair to him. Would I? Could I? Would it be so wrong to try to make Jacob happy? Even if the love I felt for him was no more than a weak echo of what I was capable of, even if my heart was far away, wandering and grieving after my fickle Romeo, would it be so very wrong? Jacob stopped the truck in front of my dark house, cutting the engine so it was suddenly silent. Like so many other times, he seemed to be in tune with my thoughts now. He threw his other arm around me, crushing me against his cheat, binding me to him. Again, this felt nice. Almost like being a whole person again. I thought he would be thinking of Harry, but then he spoke, and his tone was apologetic. â€Å"Sorry. I know you don't feel exactly the way I do, Bella. I swear I don't mind. I'm just so glad you're okay that I could singand that's something no one wants to hear.† He laughed his throaty laugh in my ear. My breathing kicked up a notch, sanding the walls of my throat. Wouldn't Edward, indifferent as he might be, want me to be as happy as possible under the circumstances? Wouldn't enough friendly emotion linger for him to want that much for me? I thought he would. He wouldn't begrudge me this: giving just a small bit of love he didn't want to my friend Jacob. After all, it wasn't the same love at all. Jake pressed his warm cheek against the top of my hair. If I turned my face to the sideif I pressed my lips against his bare shoulder†¦ I knew without any doubt what would follow. It would be very easy. There would be no need for explanations tonight. But could I do it? Could I betray my absent heart to save my pathetic life? Butterflies assaulted my stomach as I thought of turning my head. And then, as clearly as if I were in immediate danger, Edward's velvet voice whispered in my ear. â€Å"Be happy,† he told me. I froze. Jacob felt me stiffen and released me automatically, reaching for the door. Wait, I wanted to say. Just a minute. But I was still locked in place, listening to the echo of Edward's voice in my head. Storm-cooled air blew through the cab of the truck. â€Å"OH!† The breath whooshed out of Jacob like someone had punched him in the gut. â€Å"Holy crap!† He slammed the door and twisted the keys in the ignition at the same moment. His hands were shaking so hard I didn't know how he managed it. â€Å"What's wrong?† He revved the engine too fast; it sputtered and faltered. â€Å"Vampire,† he spit out. The blood rushed from my head and left me dizzy. â€Å"How do you know?† â€Å"Because I can smell it. Dammit!† Jacob's eyes were wild, raking the dark street. He barely seemed aware of the tremors that were rolling through his body. â€Å"Phase or get her out of here?† he hissed at himself. He looked down at me for a split second, taking in my horror-struck eyes and white face, and then he was scanning the street again. â€Å"Right. Get you out.† The engine caught with a roar. The tires squealed as he spun the truck around, turning toward our only escape. The headlights washed across the pavement, lit the front line of the black forest, and finally glinted off a car parked across the street from my house. â€Å"Stop!† I gasped. It was a black cara car I knew. I might be the furthest thing from an autophile, but I could tell you everything about that particular car. It was a Mercedes S55 AMG. I knew the horsepower and the color of the interior. I knew the feel of the powerful engine purring through the frame. I knew the rich smell of the leather seats and the way the extra-dark tint made noon look like dusk through those windows. It was Carlisle's car. â€Å"Stop!† I cried again, louder this time, because Jacob was gunning the truck down the street. â€Å"What?!† â€Å"It's not Victoria. Stop, stop! I want to go back.† He stomped on the brake so hard I had to catch myself against the dashboard. â€Å"What?† he asked again, aghast. He stared at me with horror in his eyes. â€Å"It's Carlisle's car! It's the Cullens. I know it.† He watched dawn break across my face, and a violent tremor rocked his frame. â€Å"Hey, calm down, Jake. It's okay. No danger, see? Relax.† â€Å"Yeah, calm,† he panted, putting his head down and closing his eyes. While he concentrated on not exploding into a wolf, I stared out the back window at the black car. It was just Carlisle, I told myself. Don't expect anything more. Maybe Esme Stop right there, I told myself. Just Carlisle. That was plenty. More than I'd ever hoped to have again. â€Å"There's a vampire in your house,† Jacob hissed. â€Å"And you want to go back?† I glanced at him, ripping my unwilling eyes off the Mercedesterrified that it would disappear the second I looked away. â€Å"Of course,† I said, my voice blank with surprise at his question. Of course I wanted to go back. Jacob's face hardened while I stared at him, congealing into the bitter mask that I'd thought was gone for good. Just before he had the mask in place, I caught the spasm of betrayal that flashed in his eyes. His hands were still shaking. He looked ten years older than me. He took a deep breath. â€Å"You're sure it's not a trick?† he asked in a slow, heavy voice. â€Å"It's not a trick. It's Carlisle. Take me back!† A shudder rippled through his wide shoulders, but his eyes were flat and emotionless. â€Å"No.† â€Å"Jake, it's okay† â€Å"No. Take yourself back, Bella.† His voice was a slapI flinched as the sound of it struck me. His jaw clenched and unclenched. â€Å"Look, Bella,† he said in the same hard voice. â€Å"I can't go back. Treaty or no treaty, that's my enemy in there.† â€Å"It's not like that† â€Å"I have to tell Sam right away. This changes things. We can't be caught on their territory.† â€Å"Jake, it's not a war!† He didn't listen. He put the truck in neutral and jumped out the door, leaving it running. â€Å"Bye, Bella,† he called back over his shoulder. â€Å"I really hope you don't die.† He sprinted into the darkness, shaking so hard that his shape seemed blurred; he disappeared before I could open my mouth to call him back. Remorse pinned me against the seat for one long second. What had I just done to Jacob'? But remorse couldn't hold me very long. I slid across the seat and put the truck back in drive. My hands were shaking almost as hard as Jake's had been, and this took a minute of concentration. Then I carefully turned the truck around and drove it back to my house. It was very dark when I turned off the headlights. Charlie had left in such a hurry that he'd forgotten to leave the porch lamp on. I felt a pang of doubt, staring at the house, deep in shadow. What if it was a trick? I looked back at the black car, almost invisible in the night. No. I knew that car. Still, my hands were shaking even worse than before as I reached for the key above the door. When I grabbed the doorknob to unlock it, it twisted easily under my hand. I let the door fall open. The hallway was black. I wanted to call out a greeting, but my throat was too dry. I couldn't quite seem to catch my breath. I took a step inside and fumbled for the light switch. It was so blacklike the black water Where was that switch? Just like the black water, with the orange flame flickering impossibly on top of it. Flame that couldn't be a fire, but what then ? My fingers traced the wall, still searching, still shaking Suddenly, something Jacob had told me this afternoon echoed in my head, finally sinking in She took off into the water, he'd said. The bloodsuckers have the advantage there. That's why I raced home I was afraid she was going to double back swimming. My hand froze in its searching, my whole body froze into place, as I realized why I recognized the strange orange color on the water. Victoria's hair, blowing wild in the wind, the color of fire She'd been right there. Right there in the harbor with me and Jacob. If Sam hadn't been there, if it had been just the two of us ? I couldn't breathe or move. The light flicked on, though my frozen hand had still not found the switch. I blinked into the sudden light, and saw that someone was there, waiting for me.