Purdue University Role of Genre and Considering Subgenres Paper 1- Pick one of the short story which i uploaded. 2-Follow the instruction exactly.3- Respon

Purdue University Role of Genre and Considering Subgenres Paper 1- Pick one of the short story which i uploaded. 2-Follow the instruction exactly.3- Response with 2 pages about what you read.4- MLA work cited Thank you. 128 ANN BEATTIE
ring. Did they talk about amazing things because they thought we’d turn into
one of them? Now I think they probably guessed it wouldn’t work. It was as
hopeless as giving a child a matched cup and saucer. Remember the night, out
on the lawn, knee-deep in snow, chins pointed at the sky as the wind whirled
down all that whiteness? It seemed that the world had been turned upside
down, and we were looking into an enormous field of Queen Anne’s lace!
Later, headlights off, our car was the first to ride through the newly fallen
snow. The world outside the car looked solarized.
You remember it differently. You remember that the cold settled in stages,
that a small curve of light was shaved from the moon night after night, until
you were no longer surprised the sky was black, that the chipmunk ran to
hide in the dark, not simply to a door that led to its escape. Our visitors told
the same stories people always tell. One night, giving me a lesson in storytell-
ing, you said, “Any life will seem dramatic if you omit mention of most of it.”
This, then, for drama: I drove back to that house not long ago. It was April,
and Allen had died. In spite of all the visitors, Allen, next door, had been the
good friend in bad times. I sat with his wife in their living room, looking out
the glass doors to the backyard, and there was Allen’s pool, still covered with
black plastic that had been stretched across it for winter. It had rained, and as
the rain fell, the cover collected more and more water until it finally spilled
onto the concrete. When I left that day, I drove past what had been our house.
Three or four crocuses were blooming in the front-just a few dots of white, no
field of snow. I felt embarrassed for them. They couldn’t compete.
This is a story,
told the way you say stories should be told: Somebody grew
up, fell in love, and spent a winter with her lover in the country. This, of course,
is the barest outline, and futile to discuss. It’s as pointless as throwing birdseed
on the ground while snow still falls fast. Who expects small things to survive
when even the largest get lost? People forget years and remember moments.
Seconds and symbols are left to sum things up: the black shroud over the pool.
Love, in its shortest form, becomes a word. What I remember about all that
time is one winter. The snow. Even now, saying “snow,” my lips move so that
they kiss the air.
No mention has been made of the snowplow that seemed always to be there,
scraping snow off our narrow road-an artery cleared, though neither of us
could have said where the heart was.
1983
RELATED:
—Beattie on Peter Taylor’s “A Spinster’s Tale,” p. 1756
1. Daucus carota, the wild form of the carrot, which has flat clusters of tiny white flowers.
1: Considering Subgenres
Length: No
more
than 2 pages double-spaced in
Times New Roman, 12 plus a Works Cited page.
Paper must adhere to MLA citation and style
conventions.
Objectives: To consider the role of genre in a given story. To describe why the genre influences the
reader’s understanding of the piece. To demonstrate how an author considers genre in creating a
story.
Introduction: We’ve discussed subgenres in this class. In this short response, you’ll think about how
these genre conventions influence the themes of the stories and the affects they have on the reader.
Task: Choose a story that we’ve read under the “Subgenres” category of our reading schedule. Write
a short response about how that story’s particular genre affects its meaning. Here are some questions
to get you started:
For flash fiction/short short stories: How does the story embody the concept of “bisociation”
(Definition of bisociation: the simultaneous mental association of an idea or object with two
fields ordinarily not regarded as related. The pun is perhaps the simplest form of
bisociation.)? Is the writing style different from longer stories (i.e., Is it zanier, stranger, move
vivid?)? What kind of response do you believe the author wants from his/her reader?
Outside Sources: There is no need to consult any outside resources, and in fact, that is discouraged. I
am most interested in your own thinking throughout this semester. That said, you will need to cite all
quotes taken from the stories. The Purdue OWL is a great resource for citation and documentation
strategies that adhere to MLA style. As always, any student found to plagiarize on this or any
assignment will receive a grade of ZERO.
tough
a mystery
snow
no one’s
feling good, feeling fine
Privacy
Girl
Feeling How . .
ANN BEATTIE
b. 1947
Beattie was born in Washington, D.C., and
attended both American University and the Uni-
versity of Connecticut. Subsequently, she taught at
Harvard and the University of Virginia. She has
received a Guggenheim Fellowship and has built
a broad reputation for the many stories she has
published in The New Yorker, establishing her as
a spokesperson for the generation of the 1960s
as her characters adapt-or fail to adapt-to the
oncoming years. She writes of those who took the
1960s to be a Golden Age and cannot free them-
selves from the enchantment of their youth. Her
books of short stories include Distortions (1976),
Dil The Burning House (1982), What Was Mine (1991),
Selected Stories (1999), and Follies (2005). A collection of her New Yorker stories
was published in 2011. Her novels include Chilly Scenes of Winter (1976), Falling in
Place (1980), Love Always (1985), Picturing Will (1990), My Life, Starring Dara Falcon
(1997), Perfect Recall (2000), The Doctor’s House (2001), and Mrs. Nixon (2011). In
2005 Beattie won the Rea Award for the Short Story.
Snow
I remember the cold night you brought in a pile of logs and a chipmunk
jumped off as you lowered your arms. “What do you think you’re doing in
here?” you said, as it ran through the living room. It went through the library
and stopped at the front door as though it knew the house well. This would
be difficult for anyone to believe, except perhaps as the subject of a poem.
Our first week in the house was spent scraping, finding some of the house’s
secrets, like wallpaper underneath wallpaper. In the kitchen, a pattern of
white-gold trellises supported purple grapes as big and round as Ping-Pong
balls. When we painted the walls yellow, I thought of the bits of grape that
remained underneath and imagined the vine popping through, the way some
plants can tenaciously push through anything. The day of the big snow, when
you had to shovel the walk and couldn’t find your cap and asked me how to
wind a towel so that it would stay on your head-you, in the white towel tur-
ban, like a crazy king of snow. People liked the idea of our being together, leav-
ing the city for the country. So many people visited, and the fireplace made all
of them want to tell amazing stories: the child who happened to be standing
on the right corner when the door of the ice-cream truck came open and hun-
dreds of Popsicles crashed out; the man standing on the beach, sand sparkling
in the sun, one bit glinting more than the rest, stooping to find a diamond

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