Rhetorical Devices In The Way To Rainy Mountain By Momaday - think
Words The way to a disaster is you bring it upon yourself. This is exactly what Victor did to his monster and himself. Victor Frankenstein wanted to make the monster for the good of human race but really did it for selfish reasons. Victor said after he made the creature, "The beauty of my dream vanished, and breathless horror filled my heart. Rhetorical Devices In The Way To Rainy Mountain By MomadayAll Rights Reserved Printed in U. The first Rowan had built well; he had not come here with his wives and children and his flocks and herds after the sinking of California, for he had had none of those. He had in fact landed with one small boat and one Devuces dog and a determined mind and a hopeful heart, marrying a daughter of the land that is to say, he had concluded a major treaty by the terms of which he granted use of his infinitely precious cold chisel for half a year of every year and in return was granted use for the whole of every year of an area of land for building and farming and hunting and fishing, plus a girl who had been captured almost casually from a far-off people years back and was of an age to be mannedand had put up his house Deviices to a plan existing in his own head only—then, unprecedented; since, the standard model.
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He had left behind more than a set of walls and a style in housing. His long head and long bones and wide, smiling mouth were now part of the common fabric of the people; his casual, personal turns of speech had become the way one spoke. If a problem was regarded calmly as something capable of solution instead of occasion to retreat into dreams and resigned surrender, this, too, was part of the long legacy of Rowan the first settler.
The present head of the homesite, old father and artificer, was one Ren Rowan, six generations descended from the settler on one side and seven generations removed on another; his wife's lineage was similar, though of distant cousinship. He was all seamed and grizzled now, she—though slightly younger—only now beginning to show gray in her long hair.
Her hands were deft at many tasks. It was her way to offer advice to her husband quietly and in private, it was his—usually—to take it. Meat sizzled and spat. There was a burst of laughter. A child stumbled and wailed, was righted and comforted with a grilled bone that filled the small mouth.
Almost; but not quite. I suppose she's twitched her rump at him and now he doesn't know whether to build a house or drag her off into the bushes… Of course, one needn't preclude the other. You were on the flighty side, too, recollect. House timbers. Might think about it… " A comfortable Ruetorical fell between them. He, his work being officially over, might have put on the loose shirt and kilt, both decoratively worked in dyed threads, which she had laid out for the purpose in their room.
She, her work being officially still on, would not yet slip into the equally loose dress only the unmarried women need endure the discomfort of tight onesequally brightly embroidered, which hung in her corner. Both, then, were girded briefly around the waist, and wore no other clothing.
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The afternoon's sun was still warm. The moma Bu popa of Home Rowan looked on and about quietly and contentedly. The large, sturdy old house with its rounded ends was well- and newly-thatched; let the rains fall in due season as they surely would forfend a drought! The walling palisade and gate were solid and well-set, the pens held fat stock and poultry, fields and garden were in good tilth, and the storehouses were as full as any homesite's should be that was not niggard with its help.
Neighbors, kinsmen, and even those not so allied had come to help with the work and were feeding read article on age—frolicking or enjoying a peaceful visit. A potbellied pupdog, descended out of the lean loins of the Rhetoricao Rowan's lone companion on the long voyage hither, nosed along for scraps, followed by an equally potbellied grandchild. The pupdog paused, spread its legs, piddled. The child did the immediate same… Startled by the sudden laughter, he looked up, ready for tears.
Seeing only Moma and Popa, he smiled proudly, and gurgled vigorously as he tottered off in pursuit of the pupdog. It hadn't always been a goodly scene. There had been famine, preceded by droughts; plagues of beasts and plagues of men; there was once something mightily like a little war; wild beasts had raided and attacked, and—rarely, rarely—wild men. Floods had lapped almost to the doorsills; retreating, they had left behind mud and wreckage and bloated bodies. A favored daughter had suffered of a long and painfully wasting illness before dying, and a less favored son perhaps because of that, or for another reason none could think of had one day read more down into the ocean and not come out.
Analysis of N. Scott Momaday's The Way to Rainy Mountain Essay example
Nor had Old Ren, as he was beginning to be called, inherited the homesite peacefully. His years of enduring the usurpatous tenure of his wicked and godless uncle, Arno Half-Devil, and how he had finally wrested all away from him and sent him to die in the caves, formed the integuments of a legend which was still in formation. And now, when the minor festivity of the thatch party ordinarily would be beginning to slow down, it received fresh life.]
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