Eudora Welty: A Short Story

In 1905, Fifth Avenue Presbyterian Church, under the direction of Rev. L. L. Downing, erected their persistently famous Stonewall Jackson memorial window. Each Sunday, Fifth Avenue’s pastor still preaches from the pulpit with this picturesque image in the background, denoting the phrase, “Let us Cross the River and Rest in the Shade of the Trees.” General Jackson was, of course, well known for his devout Presbyterian faith. What may be most surprising to those unfamiliar with Fifth Avenue Presbyterian Church, however, is that it is a historically black congregation. As a local historian has explained:

Character is an imaginative person who plays role in a story. (Kennedy, 1983 in Koesnosoebro, 1988). The role of character is very important. Every story must have its own character, as their function are to play the role in a story. Sometimes, it is easy to interpret how the character is. However, most of the time, it is quite difficult to know about the characteristic of them and readers have to analyses more how the character really is. The characters are not fully revealed at the beginning in order to make the readers curious about them.

America has been comprised of many diverse backgrounds since the founding of this country. Immigration to America has occurred for many different reasons, one of them being the Gold Rush equally inspiring many people from different backgrounds in search of the same hope that drove our setters, to become free and successful. As this is the same driver in today’s society, the American spirit was re-charged during the Gold Rush. The Gold Rush implemented hope in people around the world like never before, which brought an insurgence to diverse people to America for a common aspiration.

Perhaps the most intriguing and interesting biographical theme that is repeated throughout the novels is the traditional mother-daughter dynamics and expectations. The importance of family and filial respect for parents is a crucial part of East Asian culture.The family has and still is often called the basic social unit in China (Welty 198). In Asian culture children are required “to be obedient and respectful in all cases to their parents” (Welty 253). Mother and daughter relationships are an especially intriguing dynamic because in the traditional cultures, women were often second class and did not retain much respect. This idea is explored in The Joy Luck Club as Ying-ying St. Clair says “I know this because I was raised the Chinese way:

“ Push Mrs. Wehling , come on just a bit more you're doing great. Almost there ,” said the doctor that was helping me give birth to my triplets. “ I wonder what three people volunteered for my triplets to be born.” I laying down waiting for the pain to calm down. “Doctor… Doctor we found three dead bodies in the other room.” Said the nurse who was out of breath. “We still haven’t identified them, but we know for a fact that one of the dead is Dr.Hitz. The other two are still getting identified.” I wonder who could’ve done something like that. “ The others have been identified a Leora Duncan and Edward K. Wehling , Jr

Defining her world as ‘social science fiction,’ Margaret Atwood brings clarity to a situation most deem unimaginable. Regarding the articles in the newspaper, Offred says that “we were the people who were not in the papers. We lived in the blank white spaces at the edge of print.” The characters see the news story as existing separate from the reality they view as their own.

The story I chose to analyze is “Why I Live at the P.O.” by Eudora Welty. The author, Eudora Wetly, is originally from Mississippi from a prosperous family, she was born in 1909 and passed away in 2001.During her early days she worked at small places involved with writing until she launched her literary career. ‘Why I Live at the P.O’ is about sibling rivalry and favoritism among family. My thesis states that this story shows a good example of favoritism among families and good insight from the outcast.

The absence of a name for the woman concluded that she was not paramount enough to be known.

She was standing atop the ridge of one of the many cliffs in the distance. The woman, if you could call her that, had blended into the darkness too well that the mountains weren’t even able to distinguish her. She was too faded away, even with all her outstanding and distinctive features. It was never guessed that she would turn out this way, wrapped around the gloom of her life. Her jet-black hair was flaying right across the ashen colour of her face; her figure barely seen as the ragged scraps of her black gown covered it wholly. The air was crispy, so bitter that she had to wrap her tremendous wings around her just to keep from transforming into an ice block. She was enclosed in so much dusk, and it wasn’t only meant metaphorically. Her

The very first word he said to her became the last word. He was very outspoken and folksy, but never dreamt of doing something like this himself. Everybody, his near and dear ones knew that he will never do any thing to harm any one. He never made fun of some one who was a stranger to him. But on this very day he said something which he thought he will never say to a girl. But he did. He himself had no clue of what he has said. A really absurd feeling and he stopped talking to any woman and went deep into a shell where there was only silence and echo of what he has said. THE WORD. The thing hit him so hard that he never recovered. It was a kind of fall for

I got out cautiously. This was unusual. A shadowed figure got out of the car as well. I chuckled. Of course. I should have expected this. “You don’t usually accompany retirees from the service, Mycroft, what’s the special occasion?”

Most people thought of her of a woman who will murder anyone on sight. To them, it was dangerous for her to even look at you. But they don't know anything about her.

After college, she worked at WJDX radio station and wrote society columns for the Memphis Commercial Appeal. She, also, served as a Junior Publicity Agent for the Works Progress Administration. She took many photographs. In 1936 to 1937, they were exhibited in New York; however, they were not published as she wished.(https://eudorawelty.org/biography/)

It was a stark night with an unpleasant breeze. The full moon was covered with gloomy clouds and there was nothing on the sky that could brighten the quiet and peaceful town. Owls hooted faintly and foggy weather made the mood more miserable.

During our long, brutal winters we have moment of reprieve from the blistering winds. The clouds clear and during the night all the stars glimmer and shine. If you’re lucky, you will behold the northern lights swaying in the black night sky like a brushstroke. The night is silent, breaking only for the dogs chained to their small houses and the lone car that drives down the snow covered roads. It is a calm that we grow accustomed to, but never wish to change.