For today's lesson, you are going to take one last look at the three categories of story elements that we have been focusing on: Character Development, Complex Themes, and Craft and Structure. For each of the three categories, we have been practicing certain skills to help us read like writers, and now you are going to create notes on some of these skills in order to summarize your thinking about one the texts that we read during the unit. That's why I had you start to think about which story you enjoyed the most; It's much easier to write about something you find interesting.
For your assignment, you are going to use the chart below to share a deeper understanding of the story of your choice. You will choose one skill from each of the three categories listed in the chart and pull passages that help you to explain your thinking.
By Ursula K. Leguin
He was a good husband, a good father. I don’t understand it. I don’t believe in it. I don’t believe that it happened. I saw it happen but it isn’t true. It can’t be. He was always gentle. If you’d have seen him playing with the children, anybody who saw him with the children would have known that there wasn’t any bad in him, not one mean bone. When I first met him he was still living with his mother, over near Spring Lake, and I used to see them together, the mother and the sons, and think that any young fellow that was that nice with his family must be one worth knowing. Then one time when I was walking in the woods I met him by himself coming back from a hunting trip. He hadn’t got any game at all, not so much as a field mouse, but he wasn’t cast down about it. He was just larking along enjoying the morning air. That’s one of the things I first loved about him. He didn’t take things hard, he didn’t grouch and whine when things didn’t go his way. So we got to talking that day. And I guess things moved right along after that, because pretty soon he was over here pretty near all the time. And my sister said — see, my parents had moved out the year before and gone south, leaving us the place — my sister said, kind of teasing but serious, “Well! If he’s going to be here every day and half the night, I guess there isn’t room for me!” And she moved out — just down the way. We’ve always been real close, her and me. That’s the sort of thing doesn’t ever change. I couldn’t ever have got through this bad time without my sis.
Well, so he come to live here. And all I can say is, it was the happiest year of my life. He was just purely good to me. A hard worker and never lazy, and so big and fine‐looking. Everybody looked up to him, you know, young as he was. Lodge Meeting nights, more and more often they had him to lead the singing. He had such a beautiful voice, and he’d lead off strong, and the others following and joining in, high voices and low. It brings the shivers on me now to think of it, hearing it, nights when I’d stayed home from meeting when the children was babies — the singing coming up through the trees there, and the moonlight, summer nights, the full moon shining. I’ll never hear anything so beautiful. I’ll never know a joy like that again.
It was the moon, that’s what they say. It’s the moon’s fault, and the blood. It was in his father’s blood. I never knew his father, and now I wonder what become of him. He was from up Whitewater way, and had no kin around here. I always thought he went back there, but now I don’t know. There was some talk about him, tales that come out after what happened to my husband. It’s something runs in the blood, they say, and it may never come out, but if it does, it’s the change of the moon that does it. Always it happens in the dark of the moon, when everybody’s home and asleep. Something comes over the one that’s got the curse in his blood, they say, and he gets up because he can’t sleep, and goes out into the glaring sun, and goes off all alone — drawn to find those like him.
And it may be so, because my husband would do that. I’d half rouse and say, “Where you going to?” and he’d say, “Oh, hunting, be back this evening,” and it wasn’t like him, even his voice was different. But I’d be so sleepy, and not wanting to wake the kids, and he was so good and responsible, it was no call of mine to go asking “Why?” and “Where?” and all like that.
So it happened that way maybe three times or four. He’d come back late and worn out, and pretty near cross for one so sweet‐tempered — not wanting to talk about it. I figured everybody got to bust out now and then, and nagging never helped anything. But it did begin to worry me. Not so much that he went, but that he come back so tired and strange. Even, he smelled strange. It made my hair stand up on end. I could not endure it and I said, “What is that — those smells on you? All over you!” And he said, “I don’t know,” real short, and made like he was sleeping. But he went down when he thought I wasn’t noticing, and washed and washed himself. But those smells stayed in his hair, and in our bed, for days.
And then the awful thing. I don’t find it easy to tell about this. I want to cry when I have to bring it to my mind. Our youngest, the little one, my baby, she turned from her father. Just overnight. He come in and she got scared‐looking, stiff, with her eyes wide, and then she begun to cry and try to hide behind me. She didn’t yet talk plain but she was saying over and over, “Make it go away! Make it go away!”
The look in his eyes; just for one moment, when he heard that. That’s what I don’t want‐ever to remember. That’s what I can’t forget. The look in his eyes looking at his own child.
I said to the child, “Shame on you, what’s got into you!” — scolding, but keeping her right up close to me at the same time, because I was frightened too. Frightened to shaking.
He looked away then and said something like, “Guess she just waked up dreaming,” and passed it off that way. Or tried to. And so did I. And I got real mad with my baby when she kept on acting crazy scared of her own dad. But she couldn’t help it and I couldn’t change it.
He kept away that whole day. Because he knew, I guess. It was just beginning dark of the moon.
It was hot and close inside, and dark, and we’d all been asleep some while, when something woke me up. He wasn’t there beside me. I heard a little stir in the passage, when I listened. So I got up, because I could bear it no longer. I went out into the passage, and it was light there, hard sunlight coming in from the door. And I saw him standing just outside, in the tall grass by the entrance. His head was hanging. Presently he sat down, like he felt weary, and looked down at his feet. I held still, inside, and watched — I didn’t know what for.
And I saw what he saw. I saw the changing. In his feet, it was, first. They got long, each foot got longer, stretching out, the toes stretching out and the foot getting long, and fleshy, and white. And no hair on them.
The hair begun to come away all over his body. It was like his hair fried away in the sunlight and was gone. He was white all over then, like a worm’s skin. And he turned his face. It was changing while I looked, it got flatter and flatter, the mouth flat and wide, and the teeth grinning flat and dull, and the nose just a knob of flesh with nostril holes, and the ears gone, and the eyes gone blue — blue, with white rims around the blue — staring at me out of that flat, soft, white face.
He stood up then on two legs.
I saw him, I had to see him. My own dear love, turned in the hateful one.
I couldn’t move, but as I crouched there in the passage staring out into the day I was trembling and shaking with a growl that burst out into a crazy awful howling. A grief howl and a terror howl. And the others heard it, even sleeping, and woke up.
It stared and peered, that thing my husband had turned into, and shoved its face up to the entrance of our house. I was still bound by mortal fear, but behind me the children had waked up, and the baby was whimpering. The mother anger come into me then, and I snarled and crept forward.
The man thing looked around. It had no gun, like the ones from the man places do. But it picked up a heavy fallen tree branch in its long white foot, and shoved the end of that down into our house, at me. I snapped the end of it in my teeth and started to force my way out, because I knew the man would kill our children if it could. But my sister was already coming. I saw her running at the man with her head low and her mane high and her eyes yellow as the winter sun. It turned on her and raised up that branch to hit her. But I come out of the doorway, mad with the mother anger, and the others all were coming answering my call, the whole pack gathering, there in that blind glare and heat of the sun at noon.
The man looked round at us and yelled out loud, and brandished the branch it held. Then it broke and ran, heading for the cleared fields and plowlands, down the mountainside. It ran, on two legs, leaping and weaving, and we followed it.
I was last, because love still bound the anger and the fear in me. I was running when I saw them pull it down. My sister’s teeth were in its throat. I got there and it was dead. The others were drawing back from the kill, because of the taste of the blood, and the smell. The younger ones were cowering and some crying, and my sister rubbed her mouth against her fore legs over and over to get rid of the taste. I went up close because I thought if the thing was dead the spell, the curse must be done, and my husband could come back — alive, or even dead, if I could only see him, my true love, in his true form, beautiful. But only the dead man lay there white and bloody. We drew back and back from it, and turned and ran back up into the hills, back to the woods of the shadows and the twilight and the blessed dark.
Title of Text:
Character Development
Complex Themes
Craft and Structure
Skill : Reread significant moments to evaluate the effect of specific words and phrases
Skill :
Skill :
Passage :
The next day Laurie remarked at lunch, as soon as he sat down, "Well, Charles was bad again today." He grinned enormously and said, "Today Charles hit the teacher."
"Good heavens;' I said, mindful of the Lord's name, "I suppose he got spanked again?"
"He sure did," Laurie said. "Look up," he said to his father.
"What?" his father said, looking up.
"Look down;' Laurie said. "Look at my thumb. Gee, you're dumb." He began to laugh insanely.
(Jackson 474)
A pervasive theme in "The Wife's Story" is the exploration of identity and the duality of nature. The wife's struggling perception of her husband suggests a broader commentary on how appearances can be deceiving and how individuals can harbor hidden aspects of their identity. Furthermore, the theme of betrayal—both personal and existential—underscores the emotional impact of discovering a loved one’s true nature.
Notes :
“Charles was bad again today." He grinned enormously”
"Look at my thumb. Gee, you're dumb." He began to laugh insanely.
These two phrases in particular make me begin to think that Laurie may not be as innocent as his parents would like to believe. They are using Charles’ actions as a shield to be able to look past how their own son is also misbehaving and showing disrespect.
When Laurie “grinned enormously” after sharing what Charles had done, it made me think Laurie was either proud of sharing the shocking news or that he was hiding something himself.
When Laurie began to “laugh insanely” after playing a joke on his father, I could tell that he wasn’t the “good” boy that his parents had imagined him to be.
1 answer
Title of Text: "The Wife's Story" by Ursula K. Le Guin
Character Development
Skill: Reread significant moments to evaluate the effect of specific words and phrases. Passage: "The look in his eyes; just for one moment, when he heard that. That’s what I don’t want—ever to remember. That’s what I can’t forget. The look in his eyes looking at his own child."
Notes:
This moment encapsulates the internal struggle of the narrator as she grapples with her husband's transformation. The repetition of the phrase “the look in his eyes” emphasizes the depth of her despair and confusion. The passage reveals the deep bond between the father and child that has been shattered, hinting at the tragedy of lost identity. The simplicity of the words conveys profound emotional weight, illustrating how love can be intertwined with fear and betrayal.
Complex Themes
Skill: Identify pervasive themes within the text and discuss their significance. Theme: Exploration of identity and the duality of nature.
Notes:
A pervasive theme in "The Wife's Story" is the exploration of identity and the duality of nature. The wife's perception of her husband's innate goodness is shattered when she witnesses his transformation. This aligns with the broader commentary on how outward appearances can be deceiving, as loved ones can hide hidden aspects of their identity. Additionally, the theme of betrayal—both personal and existential—is intensified by the emotional impact of discovering that someone so close has a hidden, monstrous side within them. The contrasting images of her loving husband and the horrifying creature he becomes serve to illustrate the fragility of trust and the complexity of human nature.
Craft and Structure
Skill: Analyze how narrative structure influences the reader’s experience. Passage: “I saw what he saw. I saw the changing.”
Notes:
The narrative structure in "The Wife's Story" immerses readers in a first-person perspective that builds tension and dread. The phrase “I saw what he saw” indicates a shared experience, creating a sense of closeness but also amplifying the horror of witnessing a loved one's transformation. The incremental revelation of change intensifies the emotional stakes—it’s not just the wife's horror at what is unfolding before her, but also the painful degradation of her marriage and her trust. The simple and stark sentences used during this climactic moment reflect the raw emotion and confusion often found in traumatic experiences, allowing the reader to feel the shock and heartbreak alongside the character. This structural choice enhances the theme of betrayal and loss, leaving a lasting impact on the audience.
