What a wild opening chapter. Such descriptive language: "tired, grimy voice"; "thoughts like worms"; "thoughts lie shipwrecked; "another wall of things not understood". Mazie is so perceptive and so raw with emotion but she is six years old (!) and has not the words or understanding to decipher what she hears and feels. "The things I know but am not knowen" is being six years old distilled into one sentence! So many characters are made so real in so few words. Still, this is the one sentence that breaks me: "Somehow it reminded her of the rough hand of her father when he caressed her, hurting her, but not knowing it.." John and Anna are people who do care about their children and yet are caught in untenable circumstance. When Mazie feels that "All the world is a-cryin and I don't know for why", her father muses "What call's a kid got asking questions like that?" Indeed! And yet there are many, many kids in the world who are in peril and who still have to face a world crying and there are still their parents asking why. Not sure I'm ready for this .
Olsen really gets something right here with telling us about this family through the lens of Mazie. Something unlocks about how odd and scary and overwhelming such an existence is. Through a child’s eyes, I think we get to understand perhaps more of what drives Jim and Anna to be so angry and distant and shocked. The little girl POV gives us so much here.
I know what you mean about wondering if you’re ready for what’s to come. It’s a tough read — and it’ll get tougher as we go. So. Remember to take care of yourself as you go 💞
I liked the idea of the reversal of the image of the word "ground" at the end of Chapter One.
All chapter is dominated by the dark image of a "fearsome place below the ground" "the ɓowels of earth" where go men and dreams swallowed by death.
But at the end of the chapter the image of "ground" becomes a brigh one, the skin of the earth, a place of hope where, over the ground, grow happy dreams of a "new life in the spring", a season when nature comes back to life.
The novel opens with the description of a mining town and explores the everyday life of a family, the Holbrooks.
The setting described is horrifying, fearsome. Nature mirrors the characters’ feelings and thoughts.
“The wind fills the night with lost and crying voices”. Andy’s mind is like a “ black sea where the shipwrecked thoughts plunge and whirl”. Anna’s thoughts become worms that “crept within her”. In McEvoy’s mind thoughts are like an “old wind with a tired voice of dead people”.
A typical night of the Holbrook family is described. Jim, the father, comes home drunk as usual, and becomes violent towards his wife Anna who, in turns, reverses her anger towards the children. “The whole household walked in terror”.
“The wind outside moaned. Some horror, some sense of evil seemed on everything”.
The author uses personification to make nature mirror the characters’ thoughts.
The earth is personified. It becomes a monster. Its mouth is the mine, its belly is the underground that needs to be fed, its hand is the coal dust that “squeezed your heart, chocking at your throat”.
If we analyze the verbs used (crying, squeezing, chocking, moaned), the adjectives (lost, tired, dead, shipwrecked), the nouns ( thoughts, voices, heart, throat, terror, evil), we immediately notice that they belong to the semantic fields of fear, death, suffering, evil. That’s how the author wants to describe the life of these miners and their families.
Nice attention to the language in the chapter! Yes: the earth certainly becomes a fearsome monster—a being that almost delights in torturing the Holbrook family.
I wonder, too, about why they make this monstrous mine a woman who is starved for life: eating the men and craving babies.
Interesting how she subtly introduces some critical points about the mill owners. It begins with Anna talking about Marie Kvaternick's thoughts about the mill, especially this forceful image:"And she talks about the coal. Says it oughta be red, and let people see how they get it with blood. "
There is the stark contrast between the owner's house and living conditions compared to the workers' living conditions, but also the neglect with respect to worker safety:"[...] there were whispered rumors that the new fire boss, the super's nephew, never made the trips to see if there was gas. "
Certainly one of the major safety precautions in a mine.
And I have one question. What is a "company scrip"?
Nice observations!! We also get Jim telling Mazie about the clean indoor toilets and table cloths the upper classes use every day—a stark contrast to their own outhouses and dirty tables.
“Company scrip” was basically Monopoly money. It was wages that employees earned that could only be spent at company-owned businesses. So, they’re not being paid with real money. They’re being paid with a replacement currency owned and valuated by the mill owners. (Another fantastic indictment of how unfair their existence is…!)
So fun to read everyone’s comments! I’m also blown away by the imagery and descriptive language. Chapter one felt like reading the most beautiful and gruesome poem. Why didn’t I know about the works of Tillie Olsen before!? I am so looking forward to reading the rest of this novella.
I cannot believe my good luck. I'd ordered this book a week ago and it was late in coming. It came earlier than expected, landing in my mailbox today. And I did start this chapter, though I'm not all the way through it yet. But I did notice something I wanted to bring up. That opening sentence, and that irritating whistle. This opening reminds me so much of Richard Wright's "Native Son," Lorraine Hansberry's "A Raisin in the Sun," and Ann Petry's "In Darkness and Confusion," and her other shorter story, "Like a Winding Sheet," because each of these begins with an alarm of some kind going off, shattering someone's peaceful sleep or dreams. And it foreshadows a bleak breakfast scene where someone isn't getting what they need. And now this whistle that Mazie brutally wakes up to, and it does set the scene for what is surely coming. I'd say that a first sentence can often lay out the entire theme of a novel, and if we view this first sentence that way, then the idea of a grating, abrasive high pitched, irritating sound that penetrates an otherwise peaceful moment, or at least a more peaceful one, likely encapsulates the theme of "all the world a-cryen and I don't know for..."
Because the whistle can also be heard as a cry: a cry for help, a cry coming from the bowels of grief and longing, of potential.
Just some initial thoughts as I move through this first chapter!
One of my favorite words, Haley! And a great way, by the way, to introduce new students to some of these works they would not ordinarily read. I ask them to look for those intertextual cues -- where have they seen this character or scenario before? And to notice patterns in theme, character, plot, symbolism, metaphor between these texts. Such fun to show them this stuff, and once they get the hang of it, they remember the stories more intimately and connect their own lives to them as well.
Oh, I agree. It’s such a beautiful way to help people see that these patterns are meant to build: that tropes aren’t silly, they’re actually quite meaningful! And recurring images or scenes or, whistles in this instance, are actually a brilliant signifier that heralds in a whole world of connections to other texts and stories. Yes yes yes! To all of this!
I have to admit I was somewhat ambivalent about Sheen McEvoy’s madness being a result of his disfigurement. Is his illness a metaphor for the disfiguring exploitation of the workers? Is it something he cannot escape psychologically? Still it’s a harrowing sequence, showing that danger lurks in this community even for children.
This is such a good question. There are a lot of very interesting overlaps (and academic research into the overlaps) between working-class literature and disability studies. Many authors leverage the kinds of social stigmas against disabled bodies to compound social ills — thinking of Brönte's Mr. Rochester here, for example.
Sheen McEvoy's madness seems, in the larger picture of the story, to be a composite of so many things. Perhaps including his own disfigurement; but perhaps also from the violent lives we know these people are forced to lead. So how does his body become a metaphor for the larger story? Is it fair for authors to use disability as a signifier in that way? What do we gain or lose from those implications? It's a fantastic call out. Thank you for making it!!
Also: your note is making me think about how labor literally disfigures (and literally kills) many people in the periphery of the story. We keep hearing these loud booms, feeling the anxiety of the wives and children, and waiting for the men in the mines to make it home "in one piece," to keep the metaphor going. There's something really interesting here, that your questions about Sheen point to, about the way labor creates disability or how it disfigures—or unfigures or breaks apart—these people into parts and pieces. (Like the machines in their own piecemeal assembly lines.)
I have just read Chapter 1 (i'm a bit behind) and I am SO glad I have this post to read upon reflection because there were some parts that were lost on me - especially the moment with Sheen - I am fascinated to see where it goes and very pleased you've given some theme direction because I think it'll be sooo helpful. Initial impressions of the book are- interesting but something that'll be made more interesting w direction!
What a wild opening chapter. Such descriptive language: "tired, grimy voice"; "thoughts like worms"; "thoughts lie shipwrecked; "another wall of things not understood". Mazie is so perceptive and so raw with emotion but she is six years old (!) and has not the words or understanding to decipher what she hears and feels. "The things I know but am not knowen" is being six years old distilled into one sentence! So many characters are made so real in so few words. Still, this is the one sentence that breaks me: "Somehow it reminded her of the rough hand of her father when he caressed her, hurting her, but not knowing it.." John and Anna are people who do care about their children and yet are caught in untenable circumstance. When Mazie feels that "All the world is a-cryin and I don't know for why", her father muses "What call's a kid got asking questions like that?" Indeed! And yet there are many, many kids in the world who are in peril and who still have to face a world crying and there are still their parents asking why. Not sure I'm ready for this .
Olsen really gets something right here with telling us about this family through the lens of Mazie. Something unlocks about how odd and scary and overwhelming such an existence is. Through a child’s eyes, I think we get to understand perhaps more of what drives Jim and Anna to be so angry and distant and shocked. The little girl POV gives us so much here.
I know what you mean about wondering if you’re ready for what’s to come. It’s a tough read — and it’ll get tougher as we go. So. Remember to take care of yourself as you go 💞
Thank you Haley for your very interesting post.
It's so useful to understand the book.
I liked the idea of the reversal of the image of the word "ground" at the end of Chapter One.
All chapter is dominated by the dark image of a "fearsome place below the ground" "the ɓowels of earth" where go men and dreams swallowed by death.
But at the end of the chapter the image of "ground" becomes a brigh one, the skin of the earth, a place of hope where, over the ground, grow happy dreams of a "new life in the spring", a season when nature comes back to life.
For me Mazie's maniacal laughter at the end of the chapter raises doubts about this new life being better.
👀 that was some fantastic foreshadowing wasn’t it??
This is an amazing reading of the earth and ground!! 😍 thank you for sharing!
Olivia Lassandro
The novel opens with the description of a mining town and explores the everyday life of a family, the Holbrooks.
The setting described is horrifying, fearsome. Nature mirrors the characters’ feelings and thoughts.
“The wind fills the night with lost and crying voices”. Andy’s mind is like a “ black sea where the shipwrecked thoughts plunge and whirl”. Anna’s thoughts become worms that “crept within her”. In McEvoy’s mind thoughts are like an “old wind with a tired voice of dead people”.
A typical night of the Holbrook family is described. Jim, the father, comes home drunk as usual, and becomes violent towards his wife Anna who, in turns, reverses her anger towards the children. “The whole household walked in terror”.
“The wind outside moaned. Some horror, some sense of evil seemed on everything”.
The author uses personification to make nature mirror the characters’ thoughts.
The earth is personified. It becomes a monster. Its mouth is the mine, its belly is the underground that needs to be fed, its hand is the coal dust that “squeezed your heart, chocking at your throat”.
If we analyze the verbs used (crying, squeezing, chocking, moaned), the adjectives (lost, tired, dead, shipwrecked), the nouns ( thoughts, voices, heart, throat, terror, evil), we immediately notice that they belong to the semantic fields of fear, death, suffering, evil. That’s how the author wants to describe the life of these miners and their families.
Nice attention to the language in the chapter! Yes: the earth certainly becomes a fearsome monster—a being that almost delights in torturing the Holbrook family.
I wonder, too, about why they make this monstrous mine a woman who is starved for life: eating the men and craving babies.
Interesting how she subtly introduces some critical points about the mill owners. It begins with Anna talking about Marie Kvaternick's thoughts about the mill, especially this forceful image:"And she talks about the coal. Says it oughta be red, and let people see how they get it with blood. "
There is the stark contrast between the owner's house and living conditions compared to the workers' living conditions, but also the neglect with respect to worker safety:"[...] there were whispered rumors that the new fire boss, the super's nephew, never made the trips to see if there was gas. "
Certainly one of the major safety precautions in a mine.
And I have one question. What is a "company scrip"?
Nice observations!! We also get Jim telling Mazie about the clean indoor toilets and table cloths the upper classes use every day—a stark contrast to their own outhouses and dirty tables.
“Company scrip” was basically Monopoly money. It was wages that employees earned that could only be spent at company-owned businesses. So, they’re not being paid with real money. They’re being paid with a replacement currency owned and valuated by the mill owners. (Another fantastic indictment of how unfair their existence is…!)
Following up here: I have been reading the new Hunger Games book — and it mentions scrip in the early chapters!
So fun to read everyone’s comments! I’m also blown away by the imagery and descriptive language. Chapter one felt like reading the most beautiful and gruesome poem. Why didn’t I know about the works of Tillie Olsen before!? I am so looking forward to reading the rest of this novella.
I’m so glad you’re enjoying it so far! It really is such a beautiful style of writing. You’ll have fun reading Olsen’s other works, too!!
I cannot believe my good luck. I'd ordered this book a week ago and it was late in coming. It came earlier than expected, landing in my mailbox today. And I did start this chapter, though I'm not all the way through it yet. But I did notice something I wanted to bring up. That opening sentence, and that irritating whistle. This opening reminds me so much of Richard Wright's "Native Son," Lorraine Hansberry's "A Raisin in the Sun," and Ann Petry's "In Darkness and Confusion," and her other shorter story, "Like a Winding Sheet," because each of these begins with an alarm of some kind going off, shattering someone's peaceful sleep or dreams. And it foreshadows a bleak breakfast scene where someone isn't getting what they need. And now this whistle that Mazie brutally wakes up to, and it does set the scene for what is surely coming. I'd say that a first sentence can often lay out the entire theme of a novel, and if we view this first sentence that way, then the idea of a grating, abrasive high pitched, irritating sound that penetrates an otherwise peaceful moment, or at least a more peaceful one, likely encapsulates the theme of "all the world a-cryen and I don't know for..."
Because the whistle can also be heard as a cry: a cry for help, a cry coming from the bowels of grief and longing, of potential.
Just some initial thoughts as I move through this first chapter!
😍Nancy: YES! This is a beautiful intertextual reading. Thank you for it.
One of my favorite words, Haley! And a great way, by the way, to introduce new students to some of these works they would not ordinarily read. I ask them to look for those intertextual cues -- where have they seen this character or scenario before? And to notice patterns in theme, character, plot, symbolism, metaphor between these texts. Such fun to show them this stuff, and once they get the hang of it, they remember the stories more intimately and connect their own lives to them as well.
Oh, I agree. It’s such a beautiful way to help people see that these patterns are meant to build: that tropes aren’t silly, they’re actually quite meaningful! And recurring images or scenes or, whistles in this instance, are actually a brilliant signifier that heralds in a whole world of connections to other texts and stories. Yes yes yes! To all of this!
I have to admit I was somewhat ambivalent about Sheen McEvoy’s madness being a result of his disfigurement. Is his illness a metaphor for the disfiguring exploitation of the workers? Is it something he cannot escape psychologically? Still it’s a harrowing sequence, showing that danger lurks in this community even for children.
This is such a good question. There are a lot of very interesting overlaps (and academic research into the overlaps) between working-class literature and disability studies. Many authors leverage the kinds of social stigmas against disabled bodies to compound social ills — thinking of Brönte's Mr. Rochester here, for example.
Sheen McEvoy's madness seems, in the larger picture of the story, to be a composite of so many things. Perhaps including his own disfigurement; but perhaps also from the violent lives we know these people are forced to lead. So how does his body become a metaphor for the larger story? Is it fair for authors to use disability as a signifier in that way? What do we gain or lose from those implications? It's a fantastic call out. Thank you for making it!!
Also: your note is making me think about how labor literally disfigures (and literally kills) many people in the periphery of the story. We keep hearing these loud booms, feeling the anxiety of the wives and children, and waiting for the men in the mines to make it home "in one piece," to keep the metaphor going. There's something really interesting here, that your questions about Sheen point to, about the way labor creates disability or how it disfigures—or unfigures or breaks apart—these people into parts and pieces. (Like the machines in their own piecemeal assembly lines.)
I have just read Chapter 1 (i'm a bit behind) and I am SO glad I have this post to read upon reflection because there were some parts that were lost on me - especially the moment with Sheen - I am fascinated to see where it goes and very pleased you've given some theme direction because I think it'll be sooo helpful. Initial impressions of the book are- interesting but something that'll be made more interesting w direction!
I’m so glad you’re reading with us!! What do you want/need more guidance on?? Happy to lean in…