Part 1: Reading For
Annihilation, written by Jeff VanderMeer, is the first in a series of three novels entitled The Southern Reach Trilogy. Upon reflection, I’m unsure as to whether any of us were aware of this fact, giving us time to acclimate to the idea that perhaps not all of the answers we may find ourselves seeking throughout the process of reading the novel would be answered in the end. Regardless, I chose this novel as my narrative of focus for this course primarily due to the familiarity I had with the supposed genre extrapolated from the premise. At least, I thought that I was familiar with the type of story that Annihilation was attempting to tell, but throughout my experiences reading through the entire narrative, I can honestly say that I was met with a pleasant surprise in the form of a novel that was not only more Mystery than Science Fiction or Thriller, but also provided a completely new perspective on narrative approaches with this variety of premise. In hindsight, the sheer focus on Area X, a place that would basically be a real-world equivalent to Area 51 in the real world, should have given me more of a clue as to the sheer focus on mystery that the narrative would take on, but nothing could have prepared me for the psychological aspect of the ride in store. My early speculations, that this would be some sort of tale of man attempting to play god, or that it would be yet another portrayal of the evergreen theme of “survival of the fittest” weren’t necessarily disproven, as the reader is left with much speculation and unanswered questions at the end of the novel, but these themes were nowhere near as evident as I first thought that they would be.
The book begins with four scientists, all of whom are female, and all of whom are designated specific roles within the group, even though the true roles of those purposes remain hazy for much of the novel. The narrator is the biologist, accompanied by the Surveyor, Anthropologist, and the Psychologist. Upon first glance, these roles for such a mission may seem odd, and indeed much of that still remains a mystery, but the Psychologist’s role in the story is, by far, the most unexpected yet compelling. Within the universe of The Southern Reach Trilogy, these psychologists are granted the ability to directly manipulate the minds of others through a form of hypnosis, using simple trigger commands to achieve the desired result on the recipient. The reader is informed very early on that there have been multiple voyages into Area X, all of which ended in catastrophic failure, and yet these individuals still choose to go on such an excursion willingly. The reasons as to why the others chose to undertake the voyage remain unclear, though there are clear implications that the Psychologist is more of a direct employee of the dystopian government of their world, but it is later revealed that the Biologist undertook the voyage as a result of her husband. Unfortunately, her husband was one of many that came back from the voyage completely changed, and died of cancer soon after. Other expeditions ended with the teammates turning on each other, committing suicide, or just vanishing altogether.
From the start of their journey together, it is very clear that there is something about Area X that defies simple explanation, along with the team. In my early speculations about the story, I took note of the plant material decorating the front cover of the book, and the theme of nature taking back what it once had from humanity, but I have come to realize that the theme of overgrowth is likely more connected with the fact that the plant material, later found to be mixed with actual human tissue, represents the sheer power of Area X in its influence and ability to, slowly but surely, take complete control of the humans that come into contact with its entities. An extreme example of this is when the Biologist describes the act of killing the Surveyor in hindsight, saying that, “When I shot her, it was with these enhanced senses still at work, and that was the only reason she was vulnerable to me,” (150). This quote clearly shows the power of Area X to not only influence the mind and body of those who dare enter, but also convince them that what they were doing was right, to not feel remorse, to lose their humanity entirely. There are several other clear examples of the minds of the crew being influenced by the spores and plant material covering Area X, from the simple, instant, and unexplainable need for the biologist to refer to the descending staircase that they find as a tower, to being drawn towards the lighthouse.
The lighthouse in particular is where the team makes the greatest discovery in the form of several notebooks detailing the voyages of countless expeditions much like theirs, all being inexplicably drawn towards the same fate of never returning to who they were before entering Area X, with the lighthouse possibly symbolizing the last step in that process. Lighthouses are normally meant to draw attention, after all, but normally as guides towards safety, a shore that would save a ship’s crew from a lifetime stranded at sea. In this sense, it is possible, considering how little we know about the government in this world, that the driving force behind Area X, to be considered a living being in and of itself, is attempting to lead humanity to some sort of new shore, a new world, and a new way of living. In essence, I have come to believe that, due to my revision of the summary upon conclusion of the novel, the controlling values are more of a struggle between accepting a new way of living, ascending to some sort of other state at the cost of your humanity but for a better future, vs. living a life in a government that the reader is led to believe is fairly dystopian and controlling, keeping one’s humanity at the cost of a life dominated by a monolithic force. This is most clearly demonstrated by the fact that, at the end of the novel, the narrator decides not to leave Area X, as the last surviving member of her expedition, with the intent of her finding what remains of her husband. Perhaps the two will be reunited after all, but if and when they do, they will be reunited not as the people they were living in society, but as a new form of life entirely. In the end, this demonstrates the clear victory of sacrificing one’s humanity in search of something greater, something beyond our comprehension.
Part 2: Form and Genre
Annihilation would, first and foremost, be considered Science Fiction on first glance. Both Nicole and I agree that it could also be considered to be horror or fantasy fiction; however, I would add that, upon delving further into the book, it definitely hinges more-so upon elements of mystery and thriller, along with several of their common conventions, in order to make this book such a page-turner. The reader is constantly left in wonder of What Area X really is, what the true intentions are behind the clandestine government, the expeditions despite countless failures, and overall, the true intentions of the group members themselves. Early on, the book certainly had elements, or components/ideas, of this mystery present, but it wasn’t until later that the full extent of the conspiracies going on behind the scenes revealed themselves. Rather, the early elements of this book almost catch the reader off-guard with how jarring the atmosphere presented in the novel really is.
In the first fifty pages only about a day and a half pass in the book but it reads quickly. Many things are being set up (what’s so important about the lighthouse?), and many things are happening (goodbye Linguist) but the pace doesn’t feel rushed. It’s almost like the untouched wilderness is growing around the reader without them realizing they’re being trapped. The sheer imagery and oppressing nature conveyed through the narrator’s descriptions of Area X, along with how quickly the possibility of mind-control or death much like the previous expeditions faced, do much to convey the atmosphere of horror from the get-go. While this element never fades, and is in fact an essential component of the narrative, the overall mystery presented by the constant discoveries and interactions between the crew, lend just as much towards the genre of mystery. This is much of what keeps the reader constantly turning the pages of the book, seeking to find answers that unfortunately may never be found (at least until they read the other books in the trilogy). In addition to the urge to turn the pages of the book, these ideas serve to spark something within the mind of the reader; to consider something far greater than the pages of the book, and to consider greater ideas which may make them uncomfortable, or may ignite a passion within them. That’s the true purpose, to make the reader think beyond themselves, beyond humanity, and to think about what lies ahead.
As previously mentioned, while we do not find out much about what the other characters in this book are thinking beyond their physical reactions to the situations they are placed in, the reader is told much about what drives the Biologist, while showcasing the entirety of her change as a result of her venture into Area X. The Biologist is not just like her colleagues, she prefers solitude to people, and she not only fully accepts the dangers of the exhibition, she wants to be there. She wants to be there so much, even after three of her colleagues “leave” the exhibition she is still prepared to press on. Everyone else’s mood fits perfectly with the unease that surrounds Area X. The ominous nature of the uninhabited wilderness seeps into the others but not the Biologist. I would argue that a qualitative progressive form surrounds the Biologist and her contamination. She says that her senses become heightened and that she is elated in the midst of the terrible things happening. On page 92 and 93 she worries herself out of this elevated mood with all of the questions about the Tower and the thing she names the Crawler, but finds that she slips back into it. She says that; “The brightness in my chest, continued to sculpt me as I walked, and by the time I reached the deserted village that told me that I was halfway to the lighthouse, I believed I could have run a marathon” (93). This statement comes after she has found a body, seen mysterious lights in a place no one should be and discovered some kind of creature. This circumvents the normal genre expectations.
Not only that, but upon further revision after concluding the book and revising our controlling values, I believe that this is an excellent example of how the biologist becomes disconnected from humanity in general. Not only is she falling under the influence of Area X, but perhaps she feels that those who were “lost” to area X were not truly lost at all. Maybe she, somewhat subconsciously, begins to consider them lucky in the sense that they have abandoned their humanity, and more importantly, the secular government that drove their lives at every given moment back home, but have ascended into some sort of higher being as a creation of Area X’s influences. Under normal circumstances, I would expect the Biologist to be losing it, or making some crazy plan, or escaping. It’s unexpected that she’s feeling so good in, what most normal human beings would consider, a horrific scenario. But while I’m in this mood, or headspace, I am immediately thrust back into the ominous unease of the area. She continues to say that “I did not trust that feeling. I felt, in so many ways, that I was being lied to” (93). This progression, this feeling that she is being lied to, is only furthered as the book progresses, leading to her eventual decision to leave behind the society she once knew once and for all. Is it because she desires the truth, rather than some sort of illogical notion that the husband she once knew is still alive somewhere? This final question that the reader is left with is the heart of every great mystery novel, and for better or worse, it leaves the ending very much open to interpretation (in the context of this book as a stand-alone piece).
Part 3: Intertextual Codes
Throughout the reading, I have noticed that many of Barthe’s intertextual codes are evident in the text, but the one that stuck out the most to me was the Semic code. Barthe Describes the semic code as a technique used to define a character, object or place.“The semic code defines characters, objects, and places through repetitively grouping a number of signifiers (“semes”: words and phrases) around a proper name. Because this code defines characters, objects. and places, the semic code sets up relationships of power that often reinforce cultural codes. (Barthe). In other words, the Semic code is responsible for creating connotated meaning that delves deeper than the denotative meaning. I believe that a perfect example of this is Area X itself. In the text, we follow four scientists who are recording and mapping observations of a location referred to as Area X. I could not help but recognize the references, or similarities, to Area 51.
In fact the only major differences between the two locations is that one is located in a desert (Area 51) and the other is in a location that is overpopulated with lichen and other plants (Area X). Both places, however, are characterized by being a Government contained area that host mysterious and secretive activities. We see here that on page 94, Area X is described as a result of military research. “The government’s version of events emphasized a localized environmental catastrophe stemming from experimental military research.” (P.94) This is interesting considering that Area 51 is also an area characterized by government military research. Not only that, but the sheer intention of utilizing this area in the first place for military research, only for it to take on the form that it did later on in the form of Area X, is another clear example of our redefined controlling values of living under a militaristic, monolithic, and controlling government, versus some sort of higher form of being as a means of escaping what humanity has allowed itself to become. I believe that Area 51 is included in the text to be used as a metaphor, a semic code implemented to define Area X to the readers, so that they can better relate to the text. Many claim to have seen unidentifiable flying objects (UFOs) and alien life forms wandering around. The government claims to use the base as an area to test air crafts. However, because of its mysterious nature, It has long been an inspiration for many other books, movies, and tv shows.So why would Jeff Vandermeer decide to reference this in the text? I think this intertextual play reinforces the network of controlling values that my group identified in blog 1. By comparing Area X to Area 51, the reader begins to understand how mysterious and unknown this location is. You begin to realize how the members of the group could blindly be lead into danger. For example, our narrator, the biologist, is faced with the choice of either following the leader blindly, knowing that the leader may know something that she does not, or questioning what she is told. We see this is evident on pages 38-39 when the biologist realizes that the psychologist maybe withholding information from the group.“We had a choice now. We could accept the psychologist’s explanation for the anthropologist’s disappearance or reject it. If we rejected it, then we were saying the psychologist had lied to us, and therefore also rejecting her authority at a critical time”. (P.39) It is at this moment in the text that the weight of how serious and dangerous this situation could be hits the biologist. We get a sense that the government may be lying to our characters and leading them unwillingly into danger.
It is almost as if the members of this expedition are lab rats or guinea pigs, sent in to see what is going on in this area to the benefit of the government. To prove how indispensable the members are they are not referred to as their real names but their job titles. Again the semic code is evident in this piece of text. “There were four of us: a biologist, an anthropologist, a surveyor, and a psychologist.” (P.3) This demonstrates how they were treated as test dummies rather than living breathing humans with families and outside lives. This reinforces the cultural code of it is a “dog eat dog world.” We hear the statement all the time but what does it mean? According to the Cambridge English dictionary, the phrase “dog eat dog” is used to “describe a situation in which people will do anything to be successful, even if what they do harms others.” Kind of like, how these government officials are inviting these members in knowing they most likely will not survive. Overall, the semic code is the most apparent in the naming conventions of the characters themselves. They are not Melinda, Jill, etc. and instead they are simply referred to as the Biologist, the Surveyor, the Psychologist, and the Anthropologist. Never once are they referred to by their actual names. Stripping these people of their names is akin to stripping them of their uniqueness as individuals, as human beings, and points yet again towards our controlling values, along with the fact that the government that exists in this world is perhaps worth escaping. Maybe it is true that their humanity has really already been taken away from them by the government, and this new way of life offered by Area X is simply a way of escape, and experiencing life as free beings once more.
Part 4: Rhetoric of Narrative
Over the past three blogs about Annihilation by Jeff Vandermeer, my group has come up with a network of controlling values, looked at form and genre, and searched for intertextual codes. In this final blog for the novel, I want to address (pun intended) who the narrator and the addressee are. The narrator is the Biologist. We do not know her name, but her title gives away her profession. We also know that she is headstrong and likes to think for herself. While Area X is very dangerous, we learn that she is interested in exploring it. Unlike her, the other women on her expedition, she doesn’t follow the Psychologist (of course, inhaling the spores helped her to resist the hypnotism). More than that, perhaps the Biologist was the most likely to “bond” with Area X in the first place not only because of her profession, but the fact that she had emotional ties to the area in the form of her husband. After finding that much of the plant material covering Area X is intermingled with human cells, it is certainly possible that there is “something” left of her husband there, which undoubtedly played a large part in her final decision to stay in Area X. As a researcher, she is very intelligent, and as a Biologist, she tries to study her environment. She is an expert at what she does, so as readers, we automatically believe that what she is saying is the truth (“I believe I qualified because I specialized in transitional environments”-pg. 11). Though, she does indicate that Area X can mess with people’s minds, so maybe not everything she says is as it happens.
From the very first pages, we learn that the narrator is the Biologist (“I was the Biologist.”-pg. 3), and that this book is entries in a journal she is required to write in (“It was expected simply that we would keep a record, like this one, in a journal, like this one”-pg. 8). As the quote mentions, the members of the expedition were given journals to keep records of their expedition. This could be because unexplainable things happened to the very first expeditions, so each subsequent one was required to keep a record. If something else happens to these expeditions, someone may be able to find out what happened to them. The Biologist becomes that someone when she finds the other journals (including her husband’s) in the lighthouse. At the end of the story, the Biologist tells us that she plans to do the same as the people from the previous expeditions, and leave her journal in the lighthouse to be found. “I have spent four long days perfecting this account you are reading, for all its faults, and it is supplemented by a second journal that records all of my findings from the various samples taken by myself and other members of our expedition…I have bound these materials together with my husband’s journal and will leave them here, atop the pile beneath the trapdoor.” (P. 193) The Biologist chooses to explore on, leaving her records at the very top of a pile of multiple journals to be found by someone else. That someone else is the addressee.
Just to clarify, the addressee is the audience, the people who are reading or listening to the story. According to Peter Rabinowitz, there are about three types of audience, with the most straightforward one being the actual audience– the characters in the story who are listening to what the narrator has to say. In addition to this, however, as we are made aware that each expedition is given a journal in which to document their travels throughout Area X, the audience is whoever may find the journal. This includes the best case scenario (in theory, depending on which controlling value one sides with) with the characters giving their notebooks over to the government so that they may gain crucial insight into Area X. On the other hand, much like the many notebooks that the team we followed as readers found in the lighthouse, the audience could simply be the next expedition to come across the journal, whichever and whenever that may be.
I believe that in Annihilation, the character(s) reading the Biologist’s journal are part of the 13th expedition. Like before, a new expedition is sent into Area X to find out what happened to the previous expedition. The 12th expedition (in which the Biologist belonged to) never came back, so the 13th expedition was sent to investigate (this could have happened years later, as the 12th expedition was expected to remain in Area X for a long time, with no means to communicate to the outside world). Eventually, someone from this new group would find their way to the lighthouse and discover the journals. What the someone does with that information is another question. I think the Biologist hopes that the person who reads her journal is someone like her- someone who will think for him/herself. If the government group that sends the expedition includes another hypnotist, or just uses individuals who follow directions, whoever discovers the records might not do anything about them. Someone like the Biologist will learn from the journals and try to find out more about Area X. I mentioned earlier that Peter Rabinowitz has three different types of audience. The second of these is the hypothetical audience– the people the author envisions will read his book. He bases his writing style and artistic choices based off this assumption. At its most simplest level, Jeff Vandermeer seemed to be writing an interesting story for fans of the science fiction/horror genres. But I also think he assumes that we as readers we do not fully trust the government or any Big Brother organization. We live in a world where secrets are kept from us, and we are being monitored almost at all time. Vandermeer hopes that we are like the Biologist, who thinks for herself, and follows what she believes is right (this will make our connection and understanding of the Biologist greater).Like the Biologist, we have learned to question things and investigate on our own. If this was not the intention of Vandermeer, then why would he include such a complex set of controlling values? Ones that provoke such deep though and, possibly, action?
We need to become the narrative audience– the readers who who understand what the story is an imitation of real life. As the best case scenario, we need to assume that we are the addressee that the Biologist hopes will read the journals- the person who knows not to trust the big organization and to think for him/herself. The fictional world is an imitation of real life, and as we see that the Biologist is someone who has a very similar mindset to us in the real world, we are clued in to imitate our ideals as the actual audience in the novel. We have to believe that the character we are in the narrative thinks like us and the Biologist. Considering which controlling value wins out in the end, I believe that the author intends for us to be like the Biologists as an urge to question everything, and to seek our own truths regardless of what those who are above us may be saying. Considering the current political climate, a message such as this, one that calls for action against any government that could be seen as holding us back from achieving our full potential, is more relevant and valuable than ever.
Part 5: Final Reflection
“Never stop writing. It’s good for you.” Those words, that maxim of my High School English teacher, Mr. Edolo, are words that I will always remember. Words that have enabled me thrive for the years since I took his class all those years ago. It may seem like a fairly simple statement, a phrase that, much like many of his sayings, is deceptively straightforward at first glance, and yet upon further reflection, there is profound depth to be found beyond the specific structure of his words. I have always had a passion for writing, but it wasn’t until then that I realized the true power of the written word, and decided once and for all that no matter where my future may take me, I will always be sure to bring a notepad.
His final assignment for the class was based on the novel The Things They Carried, written by Tim O’Brian, in which I began to truly understand the meaning of evaluating writing. The book itself may seem like a fairly simple reflection of a soldier’s time serving in the Vietnam War, but it isn’t until the end of the book that the lines of the portrait created by puzzle pieces finally revealed themselves. The narrator concludes the story by admitting that the entire tale may or may not be factually correct. The details may be fuzzy, and some events could have simply been creations of his mind, but none of that really matters. What matters is that it is how he remembered and experienced it. Factual or not, it is his story, his war story. Our assignment was based off this lesson, being completely open-ended aside from the simple guideline of telling our own “War Story”. As someone who had sixteen surgical procedures by the age of twelve, along with a host of psychological disorders, I found that, much like the soldiers returning from Vietnam, and much like so many people in this world, I was carrying far too much, bearing a weight that threatened to take away everything I had. I needed an outlet, a way to ease that burden, and understanding that message, evaluating the true meaning behind the text, may have indeed saved my life. Twenty-two pages were submitted for that assignment, but I never stopped writing, and more importantly, I never stopped looking for the deeper meaning behind the text. Realizing the true power of the written word, the essential component of Core Value 7, has done more for my development than I could have ever hoped to imagine, and as such, I couldn’t have been more excited to take a course dedicated to the evaluation of how writers read. Considering that I was, yet again, going through an invisible war being waged within my mind and body, the timing couldn’t have been any better. Though I thought I knew much about the power of the written word, this course provided me with an even deeper understanding, helping me to consider perspectives and even consequences of this power that I had never even considered.
When it comes to my greatest success in this course, it would be filling in a missing link that is vital to my development as a writer. While I can say without doubt that my education throughout my life regarding writing has been nothing short of outstanding, Jane Gallop does an excellent job of pointing out the glaring omission from most education regarding reading and writing, and is correct in saying that, “Most of you have been educated to ignore such elements. You have been taught to seek out and identify the main ideas, dismissing the trivial as you go,” (Gallop 8).This quote is in regards to close reading, something that, as a writer with a background in psychology who is always looking for some sort of greater meaning or big picture, I was overlooking the value to be found in examining what is actually written on the page, as it is, rather than looking past them in search of something else. This is a critical, unethical mistake not only in the sense that the tools, the craft of the writer are being largely ignored, but also because constantly searching for a greater meaning while ignoring what is actually on the page can lead to misinterpretations with potentially life-changing results. Whether or not the misinterpreted message is beneficial or harmful to the reader, it is disregarding the true intentions of the writer, along with all of the effort, the singular pieces that all add up to make the mosaic of the author’s image so powerful and beautiful.
Not only that, but the practice of close reading, recognizing what is actually on the page rather than what ought to be, means that “A student trained to close read would be more likely to read what she actually wrote. And thus she would be more able to see how it differs from what she intended to write. Practically, that means she would be better equipped to revise her writing, to make it correspond more closely to her intention,” (9). Indeed, learning this invaluable skill has done far more for me than simply respecting the true intentions of the author. Close reading has allowed me to produce some of the best work that I have ever produced, learning to spot the smaller errors in my writing such as grammatical mistakes, but also pay more attention to the exact order and use of vocabulary in order to more clearly express my intended message. This is but one possible example of how reading such complex texts have allowed me to grow as a writer, in line with Core Value Two, which dictates that, “Writing Arts students will understand theories of writing and reading and be able to apply them to their own writing,” along with Core Value Three, explaining that, “Writing Arts students will demonstrate the ability to critically read complex and sophisticated texts in a variety of subjects.”
On the other hand, the crucial skill of recognizing the dominating ideas, the controlling values which govern a text, can not be undervalued. If one were to take the approach of close reading with The Department of Speculation, for example, one would have no hope of ever deciphering the meaning behind the endless series of passages written as a stream of consciousness. What made this particular piece my favorite of the entire course was not to be found within the compelling narrative of a woman driven to the brink of insanity, but rather the way in which the author, Jenny Offill, manages to so perfectly translate the way in which real human beings, somehow managing to translate that scattered mess into a somewhat coherent story with as much depth as one is willing to look for within the confines of its narrative. The Department of Speculation would make little to no sense if one were to look at a single paragraph or page in isolation, but when the complex ideas conveyed by the narrative as a whole, tangled up as it may be, is well worth the effort of seeing the bigger picture of what the author was attempting to convey. At first glance, The Department of Speculation is a tale of a life, “But whereas life separates meaning from emotion, art unites them. Story is an instrument by which you create such epiphanies at will, the phenomenon known as aesthetic emotion,” (McKee 1). Indeeed, it is but one story of a woman and her struggles through life, but that, “Far more is captured within the web of a story that can ever be stated in words subtleties, subtexts, conceits, double meanings, richness of all kinds. A story becomes a kind of living philosophy that the audience members grasp as a whole, in a flash, without conscious thought-a perception married to their life experiences,” (6). It is through more clearly learning this lesson through analysis of the book as a whole and its controlling values that I was able to more clearly and expressly convey such in my own writing, albeit in more unique and enthralling ways than ever before.
Close Reading and recognizing controlling values are but two examples of the many lessons in this course that have allowed my writing to rapidly evolve over the course of the semester. One of the greatest lessons I received from my Journalism professor last year, professor Diulio, was that whether one is writing a novel for young adults, an article for a fashion magazine, or a children’s story, all forms of writing are connected by a common goal. This is something that made my transition as strictly a writer of novels, short stories, and academic papers, to a successful, published Journalist in Study Breaks Magazine who just recently got accepted to co-write screenplays for a screenwriter at SONY, a writer for Mantelligence, and a thriving intern at Seattle Web Search writing articles geared towards marketing much easier. In fact, if it wasn’t for that lesson, recognizing the important of recognizing genre and audience, I wouldn’t have been able to finally live my dream, and make a living as a writer, turning my life around after one of the darkest periods I have ever encountered. Applying this lesson from that advice alone wasn’t enough, however, as I was able to learn through experience with my analyses in this course, along with Carolyn Miller’s Genre as a Social Action, that I was able to solidify the skill of crafting my writing based on genre and audience. Considering that the piece being analyzed was of my own creation, and fairly recent at that, this constructive criticism, this was incredibly useful for my advancement both personally, and academically. This was due to my work throughout the semester, but is also due in no small part to Miller’s advice that, “Classification is necessary to language and learning,” ( Miller 151) and, “we learn when we learn a genre is not just a pattern of forms or even a method of achieving our own ends. We learn, more importantly, what ends we may have: we learn that we may eulogize, apologize, recommend one person to another, instruct customers on behalf of a manufacturer, take on an official role, account for progress in achieving goals. We learn to understand better the situations in which we find ourselves and the potentials for failure and success in acting together.” Overall, this recognition of the importance of genre, and catering my work towards a specific audience, along with recognizing such in the work of others, is another example of Core Value Three, and more importantly, how this course’s material has affected my development as an artist of the written word. More than that, being able to deal with and handle such a wide variety of subjects and topics as presented by the four novels selected by our reading group contributed greatly to my development as a writer, exemplified by Core Value 1, stating that, “Writing Arts students will demonstrate understanding of a variety of genre conventions and exhibit rhetorical adaptability in applying those conventions.” The sheer variety of genres and situations which my group was expected not only to read, but to deeply analyze in light of the bigger picture, the controlling values, and all that they encompass, has given me the confidence to read and work with nearly any material, as well as writing my own.
In conclusion, as someone who was understandably excited to take a course dedicated to something I’ve held in such a high value for much of my life, the actual experience itself has changed me more than I could possibly imagine. This goes far beyond my ability to succeed as a writer, and extends to my growth as a human being, an ever-evolving organism, as evidenced by my aforementioned successes in light of one of the darkest periods in my life. As always, writing, reading, and the overall power of the written word have changed my life for the better, and have, in fact, saved me from the brink of despair countless times. Still following the words of professor Edolo, I will never stop writing. I will never stop growing, I will never stop living my life to its fullest, and I will never stop learning.
How Writers Read 