Iola Leroy is a novel that appeals to many readers, even in the 21st century, becuase of its simplicity, its sentimental passages, and the lasting pertinence of the issues of equality and race it addresses. The novel is simple in that the diction is uncomplicated, the message clear, and the characters predictable. The sentimental elements of the novel, such as the estrangement and reunion of family members, a failed and a successful romance, and instances of enslavement and freedom, serve to progress the plot and to engage the interest of the reader, but also seem to replace instances of a potential deepening of the characters and their actions. In addition, the pertinence of the issues addressed in Iola Leroy are necessary to maintain the attention of the reader. For instance, the reader begin to lost interest and focus as when the novel briefly addresses the temperance movement, which is generally viewed as a failed attempt at reform. However other issues such as the combination of “white” skin and “black” blood and the resulting complications are still interesting and engaging. For all of these reasons, Iola Leroy is easy to read and understand, though does not illustrate great stylistic achievement.

Some debate exists about whether Iola Leroy is worthy of being taught. Taken as a piece of literature, the novel has flaws such as an exorbitance of characters, sentimental appeals, and trite dialogue. However the focus of the book is not concerned as much with the stylistic elements of a traditional literary accomplishment such as character development and careful diction as it is with relating a message of understanding and awareness about slavery and its consequences. The value of Iola Leroy is found in the messages it conveys rather than in its degree of stylistic literary excellence. As such, Iola Leroy can be classified as a didactic novel. Therefore the question arises of whether the novel is more suited to be taught in a history class rather than an english class. For its appeal to a broad audience and its documentation of slavery and the Civil War, the novel is suited more to the curriculum of a history course. In an english course, the novel exhibits some value as an example of both a didactic novel and a work by an African-American woman in the 19th century, but the novel would be of greater value as a history lesson and thus would be more suited to a history class.

One of the flaws of Mark Twain’s Pudd’nhead Wilson is character portrayal and development. Most of the characters are not delineated in a way that makes them seem real to the reader rather than creative figments of Twain’s imagination. However Roxy is an exception in that she is described and is allowed to develop as a character, which makes her more endearing and realistic. Roxy is characterized by her distinctive dialect, which is unlike that of any other main character in the book. For example, she says, “’Clah to goodness if dat conceit o’ yo’n strikes in, Jasper, it gwine kill you sho’.” Although Roxy is very fair, her dialect reveals that she is subject to the “one drop rule.” That is, even though Roxy has very light skin, she is still destined to be a slave if she has any black ancestors. Roxy’s manner of speaking requires that the reader pay closer attention to her words, even if it is becuase it is harder to understand. In addition Roxy’s speech makes her seem more realistic becuase it is an example of the kind of speech a slave would have. Like her continual, distinctive dialect, Roxy has a constant and well-defined nature. It is apparent that Roxy loves her son enough to forego any recognition as his mother for many years by switching him as a baby. When Roxy switches the babies, she is chiefly concerned with the safety and security of her own child. She only briefly considers the fate of the other baby, who will be destined for at least a childhood of servitude and oppression. Although Roxy is a loving and compassionate mother, she is decidedly biased toward her own offspring. Throughout the novel she consistently proves that she will do anything to secure the safety of her child, even selling herself into slavery so her son will be able to pay his debts. Roxy is consistently a doting, selfless woman with a distinctive form of speech who is one of the most realistic and well-developed characters in the book.

William Dean Howells, the author of The Rise of Silas Lapham, is especially adept at characterization. One of the best examples is seen in his depiction of Silas Lapham. In the beginning of the novel, the author uses an interesting technique to introduce the reader to Silas which ultimately reveals more about his character than the reader could learn if the information were interpreted and then retold by a narrator. In the first chapter, a reporter named Bartley Hubbard interviews Silas about his early life and the history of his successful mineral paint business. The reader is initially given a description of Silas’ physical attributes, as written in Bartley’s notes. For example, the reporter writes that, “He is of medium height, and fills an average arm-chair with a solid bulk...”(Howells 4). Silas then relates his personal history to both the reporter and the reader, acquainting them with the people and circumstances that have led up to his present situation as a middle-aged, successful, “nouveau riche” business man with a small family. In addition, Silas inadvertently characterizes himself as he is telling the story. For example, when Silas begins to describe his parents he apologizes to the reporter, saying, “It gives me a lump in the throat” (Howells 6). Therefore the reader learns still more about Silas through the emotions he expresses as he is talking to the reporter. In addition, the reader has the benefit of the reporter’s running commentary, which condenses Silas’ story and somewhat generalize his experiences. Bartley is a shrewd and fairly cynical reporter who offers further insight as to Silas’ character. For example, after composing a well-written and partially sarcastic account of Silas’ character, the narrator remarks that, “The reporter could not deny himself this gibe; but he trusted to Lapham’s unilaterally habit of mind for his security in making it,” (Howells 5). Observations such as these reveal Silas’ simplistic and slightly obtuse attributes. In adidition, Silas is characterized by his actions. He eventually proudly introduces Bartley to his line of paint, leading him into “the wareroom beyond the office partitions, where rows and ranks of casks, barrels, and kegs stretched dimly back to the rear of the building,” (Howells 12). Through Silas’ enthusiastic presentation of his product the reader learns of his immense pride for the seemingly perfect paint upon which his life is founded. The reader is thoroughly introduced to Silas Lapham after completing the first chapter, due to the author’s impressive literary technique through which Silas is characterized by his speech, emotions, and actions, as well as the notes of the reporter and the comments of the narrator.

“The Whiteness of the Whale” is perhaps one of the most unique chapters in Moby-Dick. It is here that Ishmael attempts to clarify the source of his horror at the whiteness of Moby Dick. He gives an excellent description of the fearsome whiteness that invests Moby-Dick with peculiar and awe-inspiring qualities not found in the common whale, and which serve to charcterize Moby Dick himself. While Melville is at times criticized for his extravagant use of imagery and symbolism throughout the novel, it is in this chapter that imagery has found a beautiful and significant place. In this case, each image serves to illustrate the image of whiteness. Ishmael starts by telling the reader of the various connotations and symbolism traditionally associated with the color white. He then proceeds to explain the terrible properties of the color, saying “yet for all these accumulated associations, with whatever is sweet, and honourable and sublime, there yet lurks an elusive something in the innermost idea of this hue, which strikes more of panic to the soul than that redness which affrights in blood” (160). Ishmael goes on to explain in great detail the power that is invested in Moby-Dick through his possession of the color. What is striking about this passage is that it is remarkably vivd with images that illustrate the frightening properties of the color. In addition, I think much of the appeal of this chapter is that it leads the reader to a kind of epiphany regarding the color white, in that the reader identifies with and recognizes the properties the narrator describes. For example, the reader can identify with the traditional associations of white with spirituality and purity, but is encouraged and led by the narrator to also recognize that whiteness is found in the most terrifying animals, death, and even “the heartless voids and immensities of the universe” (165). The chapter accomplishes an important goal in that it leads the reader to understand the metaphorical and literal connotations that make it a terrifying color, or absence thereof, which the reader him/herself can understand but which is translated into specific images and ideas by the narrator.

Considering Moby-Dick in its entirety, it is easy to understand why it inspires a mixture of awe and dislike among both those who have read the book and those who have not. The mere length of the book is enough of a deterrent for some readers, and others are put off merely by its notorious reputation for boredom inducement. Curiosity spurred me to read this book in high school, and I found it extremely dull - especially the infamous chapter entitled “Cetology.” The structure of the novel is, I feel, partly to blame for the boredom it almost intentionally provokes. The first few chapter are very exciting, but interest quickly wanes with the lengthy sermon at the chapel, followed not long after by “Cetology” and a broad stretch of pages containing little plot advancement, especially when compared to the pace of the beginning chapters. By the time the exasperated reader reaches the final chapter of the book, no climax, no matter how grandiose, can attempt to placate the reader’s indignation at the hundreds of pages of reading that were its precedent. I think many people read Moby-Dick only once, which is certainly enough to form a distasteful opinion. However, I have observed that the book takes on an almost entirely different character when read a second time. I think that, in order to appreciate this literary work, it has to be read twice. One reading is enough to understand the unconventional plot structure, but a second reading is much more enjoyable because it is understood that the climax and resolution of the plot are to be found in the final pages. In this way, it becomes easier for the reader to concentrate on the use of literary devices and techniques, as well as elements such as characterization and imagery, without being mislead by the introduction.

Despite the ominous tone of Moby-Dick, some passages are undoubtedly meant to be comical and amusing. These passages are not numerous enough to offset the overall tone of the book, but they do provide some comic relief. One such passage appears at the beginning of the novel, in which the landlord of the Spouter-Inn is unintentionally vague when telling Ishmael that Queequeg is occupied with selling his head, though the market is probably overstocked. The conversation that ensues is comical in its depiction of Ishmael’s utter confusion. Another comical incident takes place when Queequeg discovers Ishmael in his bed, whereupon Ishmael jumps up and cries, “Landlord! Watch! Coffin! Angels! save me!” (37). Instances such as these also serve to characterize the narrator, who claims to be an experienced sailor, but displays the characteristics of a skittish greenhand. Queequeg is again a source of amusement when Ishmael observes the next morning that even Queequeg’s “greatest admirer could not have justified his bringing his harpoon into breakfast with him” (40). Even descriptions of Captain Ahab are laughable, such as when he is in the midst of obtaining the word of the crew to hunt Moby-Dick andIshmael remarks that he lets out a cry “like that of a heart-stricken moose” (139). Further on, Ishmael describes the tail of the great “leviathan,” which, he asserts, “never wriggles. In man or fish, wriggling is a sign of inferiority” (294). Another instance is the entirety of the chapter entitled “The Pequod Meets the Rose-bud,” which may be the most ironic and comical of the entire novel. Even on the last day during the chase of Moby-Dick, humor can be found in a conversation that takes places between Starbuck, Stubb, and Flask. Starbuck realizes the gravity and peril of the situation, and implores God to help him. Stubb responds by swearing to “die in his drawers,” and voices his longing for a red cherry before dying. Flask replies with, “I only wish that we were where they grow,” and concludes with hoping that his mother has drawn out his part-pay (425). Although Moby-Dick is a somber novel overall, it contains several comic passages that add humor to the story of a doomed ship.

A sense of doom permeates the novel Moby-Dick, which is heightened by the structure of the plot. Unlike a a conventional plot structure, in which an introduction would be followed by a steady growth to a climax, and a steady decline to a denouement, Melville constructs the plot so that the climax occurs in the last chapter of the book, and the denouement is found in the epilogue. The growing sense of doom in the novel intensifies with the thickening of the plot, as the “Pequod” anticipates its encounter with the “grand hooded phantom” (22). In the beginning of the novel, Ishmael encounters several omens that could be interpreted as harbingers of misfortune for the whaling voyage. For example, Ishmael describes the houses in New Bedford as “blocks of blackness” and eventually boards at the Spouter Inn, run by Peter Coffin. Even Ishmael thinks that there is something “rather ominous in that connexion” (24). However our impersonal narrator realizes many foreboding signs without meaning to rethink his intentions. In this way, Ishmael seems inextricably bound to journey on the “Pequod.” Other portents of doom are manifested throughout the first chapters of the novel. For example, Ishmael visits a chapel on the eve of his Nantucket voyage and “by the light of that darkened, doleful day, read the fate of the men who had gone before me” (45). In addition, a sailor significantly named “Elijah” silently points at the “Pequod” and attempts to warn Ishmael and Queequeg before they embark on the voyage. Despite these warnings, Ishmael departs on the “Pequod” and “blindly plunge(s) like fate into the lone Atlantic” (96). During the duration of the voyage of the “Pequod,” and throughout much of the novel, a sense of doom is manifested through the intangible influence of Moby Dick upon the crew. In addition, ominous signs and mysterious occurrences foretell destruction. Once the journey of the “Pequod,”has begun, rumors about Moby Dick abound, incorporated with “all manner of morbid hints and half-formed foetal suggestions of supernatural tendencies” (153). In a sense, Moby Dick has a presence aboard the ship long before its actual encounter with the “Pequod.” As the plot progresses, the “Pequod” meets ships that have encountered Moby Dick. For example, a man named Gabriel on the ship “Jerobaum” replies to Ahab’s inquiry about Moby Dick with, “Think, think of thy whale-boat stoven and sunk! Beware of the terrible tail!” In addition, strange circumstances occur on the “Pequod,” such as the mystery surrounding the devilish Fedallah, as well as an overriding sense of an “enchanted calm which they say lurks at the heart of every commotion” (302). One of the most bizarre events on the “Pequod” occurs when Captain Ahab tempers the blade of a harpoon with the blood of Queequeg, Daggoo, and Tashtego. There are many signs which point to the ill fate of the ship, and it is clear that the “Pequod’s” encounter with Moby Dick will determine the fate of both the voyage and the lives of her crew members. By the end novel, there is no doubt that the voyage of the “Pequod” is doomed. For example, the first member of the crew to look out for Moby Dick at the masthead mysteriously falls into the ocean and is not recovered. Ishmael remarks that few of the sailors regarded the incident as significant. Another sign occurs when a black hawk steals Ahab’s hat. Commentary upon this incident is in the form of a tale about Tarquin, a legendary king of Rome, whose cap was stolen by an eagle that flew about his head three times and then replaced the cap, whereupon his wife declared that he would someday be king. However Ishmael emphasizes that the replacement of the cap was the essential part of the good omen. Ahab’s hat is not replaced, but rather disappears with the hawk and eventually falls into the sea. Finally Starbuck serves as a voice of reason and strongly voices his concern for the fate of the “Pequod,” telling Ahab that “all god angels [are} mobbing thee with warnings” (418) and beseeches that they “fly these deadly waters” (406). However Ahab refuses to consider the evil portents, blinded by the confidence that he will kill Moby Dick on the third attempt. On the fateful third day of the hunting of the White Whale, Ahab reveals that he knows of the danger and disaster of the mission, remarking to Starbuck, “Some ships sail from their ports, and ever afterwards are missing...” (421). Ahab then sets off to participate in the climax of the story, leaving the reader with a sense of the inevitable denouement.

In Blithedale Romance, floral imagery is predominant in the descriptions of Zenobia and Priscilla. This imagery ultimately serves to illustrate the literal and figurative differences between the two characters. Zenobia’s powerful beauty and vibrant character are reflected in the single flower that adorns her hair. This flower is described as “exotic, of rare beauty, and as fresh as if the hot-house gardener had just clipt it from the stem” (page 15). Zenobia’s situation at Blithedale can be compared to that of an exotice cut flower in that she stands apart from the residents of Blithedale. It is not until the end of the novel that the reader learns of Zenobia’s wealth, but her distinguishing beauty and poise are apparent. For example, the narrator remarks “It was wronging the rest of mankind, to retain her as the spectacle of only a few” (page 44). It is important to note that Zenobia is not compared to a living, flourishing flower. An exotic, cut flower can retain its form for many hours, but dies quickly from lack of nourishment. In the same way, Zenobia is introduced to the reader as a woman of singular beauty, but who dies suddenly and tragically. It is interesting that, in the latter part of the novel, she bedecks herself with “a flower exquisitely imitated in jeweller’s work” (page 164). This flower is symbolic of the cloak of wealth she assumes when she returns to the city, and also reflects the nature of Zenobia’s beauty. Although Zenobia dies at a young age, it is probable that her beauty will be crystallized by local legend, and thus will persist in a lifeless but magnificent form, much like her jeweled decoration. In contrast, Priscilla is of a much less vigorous and headstrong nature than Zenobia. She is described by the narrator as “a flower-shrub that had done its best to blossom in too scanty light” (page 27), as if she had grown “among the bricks of an enclosed court, where there is scarcely any soil, and never sunshine” (page 51). This description is analogous to Priscilla’s life experience before she is received at Blithedale. Whereas Zenobia had lived in luxury and refinement, Priscilla had known a life that was much less fortunate. Therefore, it is logical to compare Priscilla to a timid flower rather than a resplendent bloom. Nevertheless, Priscilla metamorphoses into a growing, budding delicate flower once she is received at Blithedale. As she gains health and strength, the narrator remarks that “She is the very picture of the New England spring...The best type of her is one of those anemones” (page 59). Like the unassuming and dainty anemone, Priscilla has a fair complexion and a meek temperament. Unlike Zenobia, who would blossom in a rich and exciting environment rather than a simple farm, Priscilla’s existence at Blithedale is as welcome and natural as a “New England spring.” In addition the “gentle parasite’s” understated and quiet beauty would in the 1850’s be considered more desirable than Zenobia’s headstrong, feminist personality. Although Priscilla is a frail, innocent girl, she is given room to bud and blossom at Blithedale. The floral imagery used by the author to describe both Priscilla and Zenobia is particularly effective in that it not only illustrates their phenomenal features, but also reflects the nature of their character.

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