Thursday, February 2, 2012

Stormy


Oh My.

Kate Chopin
Even now the ending to this short story is a little surprising. The ending is surprising because it not only rejects the need for consequences for adultery, but it goes so far as to provide a happy ending for everyone involved.
I am not sure I know what the reader should think.

The Storm that Passes

First, What exactly is the storm? There is a literal storm in this story.  It is the storm that kept Bibi and Bobinot from returning home and compelled Alcee to enter Calixta’s home.  But there is also a very different kind of storm going on between Calixta and Alcee. This is the storm that passes peacefully at the end (spouses none the wiser) and everyone happy. 

This storm is not necessarily love, and it is not a drawn out painful and obvious affair.  This short story is not to be likened to a tragic tale like Anna Karenina. It is one night of passion described in a level of detail that falls just short of a trashy novel with Fabio (or someone like him) on the cover.  And then it is gone. No one is left pining, and no one is guilt stricken.    

Who is Calixta?

When we first meet Calixta she is hard at work sewing.  But perhaps a greater clue to who she was is in section III.  As Bobinot attempts to clean off Bibi right before home he “prepared for the worst – the meeting with an over-scrupulous housewife.” 

There is also an abundance of white images with connection Calixta (I would like to take credit for finding this, but I realized it only after ready the note about this story on Wikipedia)
She described in terms of being pure and meticulous, and she has an affair with a happy ending. 
  
(=====Lightning===== By Axel Rouvin {{Attribution}} )
Love, Marriage and Infidelity?

Hmmm. Is the story saying that Infidelity is not bad in itself if it is handled in a proper fashion?  That a woman/man just having a passionate encounter is just that? Just a passionate encounter, nothing to write home about, it is what it is. Hmmmm. I am sure there is something else here, but I cannot find it yet.
   

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Poets To Come --- By Walt Whitman


POETS to come! orators, singers, musicians to come!

Not to-day is to justify me and answer what I am for,

But you, a new brood, native, athletic, continental, greater than

before known,



Arouse! for you must justify me.

I myself but write one or two indicative words for the future,

I but advance a moment only to wheel and hurry back in the

darkness.



I am a man who, sauntering along without fully stopping, turns a

casual look upon you and then averts his face,

Leaving it to you to prove and define it,

Expecting the main things from you.

Followers