“”You have no children that you know of,” I said, then let out a cackle loud enough to drown out the sound of her ankle bells.”

I was intrigued to find out the narrator’s father’s wife was in the same situation as the narrator’s father- that she too, had left America and her previous husband to move to Haiti. To the narrator, this revelation is no more fuel for her amusement at how it’s comparable to her exact situation. For me, I thought it’d be interesting to watch how Danticat shifts our perspective on this kind of person- a person that “…chose a country over me, over us” (Danticat 7). To readers, how can we not view this character that has left the narrator and her mother stranded as selfish and insensitive? In the beginning, the narrator simply views the father’s wife as an obstacle to her father. Even though she wishes to prepare her and not rush the process, she still pushes, and is constantly asking to see him. I believe she wants to get it over with, and not prolong her anxiety. At this point, I was expecting her visit with her father to feel disconnected and sprawled with apprehension. But, I was surprised when I noticed her deep connection and alertness in the room with her father. She genuinely seemed to want to understand what made her father the man he was, and his effect on the people around him. After her dialogue, she saw her father’s wife completely, wanting to embrace her and understand the love her father brought her and the people around her. Through someone who has just passed away, I believe this is a powerful message on the positive nature and energy her father radiated throughout his life, despite his one act of selfishness when he left them for Haiti.

Jamaica Kincaid’s descriptions and narrative around the British’s occupation of Antigua was frightening and must’ve been incredibly agonizing for her to discuss. It is clear to me that the British have forever distorted the nature of Antigua and have branded their mark across all the citizens, permanently altering their perceptions on themselves and Antigua itself. When discussing the nature of Antiguans being separate and hesitant about supporting capitalism, Kincaid states, “Well, it’s because we, for as long as we have known you, were capital, like bales of cotton and sacks of sugar, and you were the commanding, cruel capitalists, and the memory of this is so strong, the experience so recent, that we can’t quite bring ourselves to embrace this idea that you think so much of” (37). The British intruded upon their way of life, installed their own regulations, and permanently rooted their own philosophies upon Antiguans. When they suddenly leave, how are Antiguans expected to grow, expected to govern themselves when all they are aware of is being conquered and subjugated. Kincaid, as a writer, is excellent in placing the reader in her shoes and visualizing Antigua through her lens, a lens wrought with British control and an innate superiority complex. Her personal anecdotes about school and certain establishments reeled me in, not solely because of the circumstances, but primarily due to the perceptions held by native Antiguans. How native Antiguans can easily remember the name and the exact date when a black male was allowed to play golf or eat a sandwich at the Mill Reef Club, an ordinary establishment for “ordinary” people. These moments were historic to them. All under the guise that British occupation would’ve modernized them, would’ve made them more “civil.” Kincaid didn’t convey the message within A Small Place through shock factor, it was as  simple as taking us on a journey throughout her childhood.

Through reading these chapters, I have observed Julius’s consistent usage of generalizations to better understand the world around him. I believe this leads to him feeling disconnected with the events and people that he engages with. In the opening pages of chapter 18, his first thought of walking past two other black adults was the idea of “brotherhood.” How they were connected through their experiences of racism in the city and this united them in some way. Immediately following this generalization, he is robbed by the same two individuals and seems to shut down, thinking about anything but the actual moment in time he is faced with. He thinks about his future wounds, not about the present. He analyzes the actual robbery and the assailants with great detail, but never seems to mention his personal feelings around the ordeal. Julius seems to think about everything but himself, trying to rationalize and justify what is currently happening with past anecdotes or experiences to detach him from the present. Another instance is his father’s funeral. Instead of feeling any sort of grief from his passing, he is caught up with the fact that it is not a “funeral day” and the weather is very nice. He thinks about death in a completely unrelated experience that took place years ago to find some sort of connection, some sort of feeling to understand what is going on. But ultimately, I believe Julius is very disconnected with himself and the world around him, ignoring his personal feelings and just drifting along in the wind. 

I find myself relating to the first chapter of Open City more than any other reading throughout this semester. Not only in the aspect that the protagonist is currently pursuing psychiatry, but also his obsession with the little things he observes around the city. His walks, littered with minute but meaningful observations about the environment and people around him resonate with me, as I grew to appreciate the smaller aspects of what makes up the atmosphere around us. For both of us, walking provides us clarity and a peaceful ambiance from the meticulous and mentally draining work we must complete every day. His habits and daily livelihood is something I wish to incorporate myself, even though I have trouble balancing reading with social media instead. The amount of similarities honestly shocked me, and I already seem to have a keen interest with the protagonist- even considering picking up some of the hobbies and expanding my relationships to broaden my perspectives on events that have taken place outside my lifetime. I resonate with his sense of wonder seen from not just New York City, but from the world:

“Often as I searched the sky, all I saw was rain or the faint contrail of an airplane bisecting the window, and I doubted in some part of myself, whether these birds, with their dark wings and throats, their pale bodies and tireless little hearts, really did exist.”

This line captures what I’ve been discussing- the small, microdetails that many seem to brush off from this world. Birds flying around the sky, airplanes leaving behind vast plumes of smoke, rain gingerly (or rapidly) hitting the pavement we walk on. To me, Open City captures this sense of wanderlust perfectly.

Throughout Disgrace, Wicomb utilizes perspective heavily to highlight the stark contrast in mentalities and livelihoods of the main characters, especially Fiona and Grace. Grace is oftentimes seen overanalyzing the most incredibly minute things- obsessing over the mannerisms of Fiona and using them to justify her stereotypes and entitlement over her. Yet, Fiona is simply asking Grace a question. She persists and goes on and on in these mental acrobatics over a simple question about her appearance. I believe this is all rooted in insecurity stemming from her mother, and highlights how people may live through their entire lives cursing the world for their misfortune. They were given a bad hand, and now must rebel against it with the only straightforward mindset they’ve known- insecurity. Rather than tackling problems and conflicts directly, it seems that certain people maneuver around these interactions and are constantly in a state of rationality- why is this other person above me, and how can I prove myself to them.

Next time you’ll know better than to come budging in here, turning up a lot of stones! (He laughs scornfully) I wanted to relive the past. There are usually scorpions under rocks

Ending The Black Psychiatrist with this line really stood out to me for a multitude of reasons. For one, this line truly highlights the stark contrast in behavior of Kerry and Gloria from the beginning to the end of the play. Initially, Gloria is a character that exemplifies control and narcissism. She is constantly acting entitled and brushing off rational statements and questions posed by Kerry, whether it be her persistent attempts to make him acknowledge her sexually or unquestionable attitude regarding their history together. I believe her narcissism and manipulation is extremely deliberate and calculating to trap Kerry into behaving or saying just one statement that crosses her delusional boundary. She takes this inch of leeway and converts it into a mile, completely blowing up the situation and enabling her to continue whatever narrative she wishes to spin. Yet, in my opinion, the end of this piece shows Kerry gaining the upper hand and methodically breaking her down- either with their twisted history or his own spun narrative. In the broader context, I believe Nkosi utilizes the last line to convey how history is often seen in multiple perspectives, and two sides often have difficulty completely understanding each other. This story may serve as an example to represent people of colored and white individuals during apartheid who couldn’t grasp the other side’s story due to misunderstandings. When Kerry reveled in uncovering the past to Gloria, it was his own twisted victory from finally making her understand his perspective. 

Kapil’s poem assisted me in understanding the lifelong trauma that certain events evoke on families, even lasting for multiple generations. Throughout the poem, each line is very deliberate and carries weight to it to convey the exact emotions she wishes to elicit upon readers. Despite these clear and blunt statements, they are all fragmented and appear in pieces- mirroring the train of thought of many who possess trauma experience. These fragments consistently end with periods or question marks, as shown when Kapil recalls memories of her mother’s trauma, 

“My mother wept, telling this story. 

To my son.

 In a Mexican restaurant on Eisenhower Avenue. 

It was my mistake.” 

Each period concludes a line and offers a piece to the entire memory puzzle- speaker to subject to location, and finally, to Kapil herself. Yet, what I find interesting is how she discusses the specific event that began this chain of trauma, and how it breaks her consistent fragmented mold. She states, 

“That the memories of the train pulling in, its floor ankle high 

with blood and every person on the train.

 Slaughtered.” 

When once again referencing trauma, she uses a simile,

 “Is inherited trauma like the water passed from one generation to 

another, placed in the hands of each person in turn?”

These two statements referring to trauma are very descriptive and aren’t fragmented, revealing how victims of trauma seem to relive their horrifying ordeals over and over, with crystal clear memory. This, coupled with Kapil’s usage of fragmented statements showcase the difficulty victims of trauma have returning to everyday life, as they are constantly reliving memories and feeling broken otherwise. On a smaller note, I believe the simile she utilizes to describe inherited trauma is extremely accurate- children will always view the outside world through their parents’ lens.

When the doctor stated to “open the windows,” I was pretty confused and didn’t gain much from his statement. Your translation into Urdu, however, was very revealing and shows how language is a barrier in some instances and can lead to misunderstandings. The fact that Sakina has a physical reaction to the doctor’s words, someone one trusts for their care, is disturbing and definitely highlights her trauma after such little time with the soldiers. Also, I didn’t realize Sirajuddin picked up Sakina’s dupatta after witnessing such a traumatic event, revealing his immense care for her. Many would simply shut down or escape immediately, but this all the more makes his situation at the end of “The Return” more depressing. Overall, thanks for the translation, it definitely cleared any misunderstanding.

When reading through “Sorry” and “The Return” by Saadat Hasan Manto, I found myself confused due to the subversion of expectations within the stories. Starting off with “Sorry,” the graphic and almost methodical description employed by Manto suggested that the killer was painfully aware of his actions- he deliberately carried through with disemboweling this person in sequence. Shifting from plunging, ripping, and slashing the belly would leave readers and myself to expect a malicious and apathetic murderer. Yet, in reality the killer was senseless and seemed to immediately regret his actions, claiming he had just made a mistake. This subversion of expectation occurs again in “The Return,” when the generous and caring soldiers locate Sakina and appear to feed and cover her up before returning to the refugee camp. But then, she arrives unconscious and immediately taken to the hospital, without the soldiers notifying Sirajuddin. At this point, I knew the soldiers had either harmed or raped Sakina, which was confirmed later. I believe Manto subverts the readers’ expectations of the soldiers and their intent to establish a tranquil and calming atmosphere- only to rip that away, revealing the harsh reality of life and how instantaneously it can flip. I believe Manto’s usage of subversion allows him to create unpredictable situations and elicit emotions from readers contrary to their expectations.