A Typewriter in a World of Gillnets

In Snow Falling on Cedars by David Guterson, there are multiple different protagonists.  The novel focuses on the 1954 murder trial on the island of San Piedro, which is just off the coast of Washington.  Many characters are featured, including multiple witnesses, the deceased, Carl Heine, and the accused, Kabuo Miyamoto, but I chose to concentrate on the local reporter, Ishmael Chambers, as my protagonist.  Ishmael is 31 years old, and fought in World War II, giving him the hardened expression of a veteran.  He also had one of his arms amputated ten inches below the shoulder joint, which causes other people to fear him or try to offer sympathy, which only irritates him more.  Ishmael is a very cynical man, due to the fact that he’s a veteran, runs the local newspaper, the San Piedro Review, and is growing older.  Also, because he runs the newspaper and communicates through words, he is considered to be very different from the rest of the San Piedro men, who are all silent, independent fishermen.  Through what I have read so far from the novel, it is apparent that Ishmael’s two main conflicts are with Kabuo and his wife, Hatsue.  To start, as a reporter, it is Chambers’ job to find the truth behind the death of Carl Heine, which also means betraying Kabuo if he is found guilty.  Both of these men were close friends of Ishmael, so he is motivated to search for justice in order to help them.  Ishmael is also motivated to help defend Kabuo throughout the story.  Since most of the remainder of the island’s population consists of fishermen or war veterans, Kabuo is very hated, especially because he is of Japanese descent, which therefore pressures many people to believe he is guilty.  For example, when Ishmael goes to the dock to try to uncover the story, the fishermen are arguing over the names of the Miyamoto sons.  Ishmael, in hopes of justifying the Miyamoto name, clears up the argument, which results in the fishermen uttering phrases such as “Suckers all look alike.  Never could tell them apart” and “Japs” (p. 43).  Ishmael also has a major conflict with Hatsue Miyamoto, who happens to be Kabuo’s wife.  At the beginning of the novel, outside the courtroom during one of the recesses, Ishmael comes across Hatsue and tries to start a conversation.  Instead of responding, Hatsue just turns away and acts distant.  Despite Hatsue’s actions, Ishmael still tries to comfort her, showing that he has very strong feelings for her.  He also states that her eyes’ “darkness would beleaguer his memory of these days” showing that her emotions have a very powerful impact on him (p. 8).  Additionally, Ishmael was told by his mother that he is very similar to his father, Arthur.  His father’s marriage to his mother was frowned upon, so this may foreshadow that Ishmael’s future marriage will be frowned upon as well.  Therefore, if Ishmael’s feelings for Hatsue are indeed valid, their relationship may lead to a marriage, which would be very disgraceful since she is the wife of his friend. 

I believe that Ishmael is a very relatable character, since most people have encountered situations similar to the ones he is experiencing.  For example, Ishmael’s feelings for Hatsue can be compared to any controversial relationship, such as Romeo and Juliet, or even Prince Charles of Wales and Camilla Parker-Bowles.  All feature someone having disapproved romantic feelings for another, and often end in a very frowned upon relationship.  Ishmael is also seen as an outsider in a town that he grew up in.  The fact that he is placed with reporters from other cities in the courtroom, and also how he doesn’t fit in with the rest of the men on the island, shows that he is different.  Almost everyone has felt misplaced at one point in their lives, so his feelings in these situations are very plausible.  There is also peer pressure featured in this novel, which strongly relates to modern teenage life.  Ishmael is caught between the fishermen and Kabuo, since the fishermen believe Kabuo is guilty.  There are so many cases nowadays where people are forced to choose between what other people want them to do, and what is right, so the audience can easily compare themselves to Ishmael throughout the story.  Overall, Ishmael Chambers is a very complex, appealing character, and I look forward to seeing how his conflicts are resolved.

Haters Gonna Hate.

                If there were a bowl full of names, out of all the attractive, talented, kind people in the world, I would hope that the piece of paper I would grab would have the name “Justin Bieber” written on it.  I directed so much hate towards him over the past couple years, for essentially no reason, when he truly deserves a lot of credit.  He’s as hard-working and determined as any other celebrity out there, which is such an inspiration, considering the fact he is only sixteen.  Also, coming from a low-income household with his single mom supporting him, he shows children around the world that anyone can be successful no matter what their origin.  Justin also has a very sweet nature, especially when he brings a random girl on stage to give them roses while serenading them with “One Less Lonely Girl”.  He also fulfills so many young girls’ dreams by going around and giving them free tickets to his concerts.  Unlike other child stars in Hollywood, Justin didn’t grow up with celebrity parents or connections to “the business”; he was a normal child whose talent for anything musical got him to where he is today.  Therefore, I wrote him a Valentine’s Day poem:

Dear Justin Drew Bieber (my future husband),

In Stratford you were born,

On the very first of March.

I sat eating my popcorn,

Filling my body with starch.

Your movie was the bomb;

I learnt to “Never Say Never”.

Your pixels touched my palm

And the music made me deafer.

Big, deep brown eyes,

A face as smooth as silk.

Like a baby in disguise,

Perhaps you’re only a bilk.

If you need somebody to love,

I’m not too much.

I’m no “Eenie Meenie” sent from above,

But I’m here for you to touch.

Just love me, miss me,

As we travel back down to Earth.

Just fool me, kiss me,

When we dock our love boat at the berth.

I promise that every time u smile,

I’ll flash my pearlies right back.

I’d call you way more than one time on your mobile

So we could meet and pose for our Kodak.

You won’t have to wish we had another time,

Or even another place.

Our dates together will be prime

As I paint portraits of your face.

So will you love this lonely girl too?

I ensure you I’ll be devoted.

My heart’s as sweet as honeydew

That is chocolate-dipped and sugar-coated.

My feelings for you are as strong as a wind turbine,

So Justin Bieber, won’t you be my Valentine?

* Of course I am completely joking.  This is just directed to all the haters out there who judge people before they know their true story.  Watch his movie, then decide if you like him or not.  I’ve learnt my lesson.

<3  I love you Nathan Ip !  <3

Escaping the Corner.

Sometimes in life, the greatest challenges we face are with ourselves.  This theme reminds me of an experience of mine that occurred a few years ago.  It was my grandparents’ fiftieth anniversary, which took place in their warm, comforting living community.  As soon as one stepped foot inside, the smell of mothballs and sunscreen overwhelmed even the stuffiest of noses.  The party was bustling.  Relatives that had not seen each other for years were reminiscing.  Children were galloping in circles like horses in a heated race.  Everyone was having the time of their life, as if being around family was truly intoxicating.  But I spent my time sitting alone.  I was not taking part in the fun; I was sober.

I claimed my place in the dark, dusty corner of the pool hall.  The sound of balls cracking, people laughing and babies giggling only made me feel more alone.  I was on the outside looking in, with my own family!  I emitted so much negativity that my mother appeared as if she tasted my sinister glare as she approached my corner.

“Why don’t you go play with your cousins?” she posed, while trying to hide her look of distaste.

“They’re my second cousins, mother,” I said with annoyance; it was like speaking to a child.  “I don’t know any of them.  Just leave me alone.”

It wasn’t like I was lying.  I really didn’t know anyone there.  My mother gave me a sympathetic look, and I felt the cool, moist touch of her condensation-covered hand pat my shoulder gently.  As she walked away, I felt the thick force of my loneliness confine me once again.  My surroundings appeared to become blurrier, and suddenly it felt like all the laughing in the room was directed at me.  Tears formed in my eyes, so I grabbed a nearby book to cover my face.  Pretending to occupy myself with “How to Move Like You’re Fifty Again!” just made me feel worse.  I felt like I was being pushed away; that I was getting further from reaching the happiness that I longed for.  Then a glimpse of red caught my eye.  As my vision cleared, I felt as if I was in one of the allergy medicine commercials.  The red object revealed itself slowly to be a purse, my aunt’s purse!  I pried my rear off the floor, wiped the dust off my body, stretched, and walked with eagerness towards the familiar purse.  I forced myself to look forward; to not see the hundreds of eyes burning lasers into the back of my head.  I straightened my back and stuck out my chest, trying to show confidence that I did not possess.

As I got closer to my aunt, I saw that she was chatting with people I had never seen before.  The faint odour of alcohol filled my nostrils, and everything around me began to double in height.  Around these adults, I probably looked as small and meaningless as I felt.  I turned in violent circles.  People began to stare.  The sound of my heart’s palpitations was all I could hear.  I was lost.

I pushed through the soft tweed and cotton legs of the monsters around me.  The feeling of my hand on a doorknob was so relieving.  I thrust my body against the heavy door and felt the delightful, warm, summer breeze blow onto my bare skin.  The ground crunched as my feet slid through the gravel.  I could feel the pain of little rocks digging into the bottoms of my feet, but I had to get away.  The familiar scent of sugar cookies and Tide laundry detergent from my grandparents’ house strengthened.  I declared my spot on the lawn, spread out my arms and legs like a sea star, and just lay there.  There was a cornucopia of beautiful pink hues covering the sky, from rose to fuchsia, cerise to coral, fandango to salmon.  The captivating, magnificent colours relaxed my body; not even the tickle of mosquitoes landing on my legs could faze me.

“This is so boring, eh?”

Startled, I sat up and found my cousin laying a few metres away on the dewy, emerald grass.

“Yeah, I guess,” I replied nonchalantly.  I couldn’t let him know how much I was suffering from being alone.

“We could play hide and go seek tag.”

Did my older cousin just ask me if I would like to be associated with him?  I wasn’t sure if it was a prank or not.  I looked around for other humourists in on the joke that might jump out and laugh at me, but all I saw were the thick, evergreen bushes and their growing shadows.  I nodded my head with hesitation.  A smile spread across his face, and without realization, I smiled too.  Suddenly, he started counting down slowly, but vehemently.  The thumping of my heart began again, and I was filled with a giddy excitement that I only longed for earlier.  I ran, feeling the breeze in my hair and hearing the sound of my flip flops slapping on the pavement, completely ignoring the annoyance of a million fresh mosquito bites.  Absent-mindedly, I bolted for the pool hall.

I slammed my body against the door and burst into the room like a newly lit flame.  Heads turned, eyes ogled, but I didn’t care.  They only fed my bright, enthusiastic frenzy.  I was free!  I yelled for the room to not tell the mysterious “him” where I was, then fell to my hands and knees like an earthquake was just announced.  I crawled along the stained, rough carpet until I was safely underneath the pool table.  I was relieved, but only confusion filled the rest of the room.  As I slowed my breathing, I listened to the conversations around me.

“I wonder who she’s hiding from.”

“Is she scared?”

“Earthquake?!”

“Man, she is so cool.”

My eyes widened.  Had someone just referred to my panicky entrance and scampering around as cool?  My heart slowly rose like a helium-filled balloon.  The corners of my lips spread out towards my ears.  My insides felt warm and fuzzy, like that feeling when you get home after playing in the snow and find that your mother has made you hot chocolate and steaming, homemade soup.  I was still grinning in my dreamy distant world when my cousin slapped my shoulder and ran away hysterically. 

After we had played a few more rounds, my cousin and I returned to the pool hall.  Some of the second cousins approached us to ask if we wanted to play shuffleboard.  They were smiling so earnestly that I knew they were being genuinely nice.  I turned my head and glanced back at the two walls meeting to form the harsh, cold corner that I had inhabited only hours before.  I was no longer an outsider.  The room was now filled with happiness and love, not the sinister loneliness that I had seen through my negative eyes earlier.  I nodded my head eagerly and went to join my family.

            Looking back on this experience, I see now that I was completely wrong about my family.  I believed they stared and laughed at me for being alone, when they didn’t even notice me.  I thought that the conflict was between me and my relatives, when it was really with myself.  I was so self-conscious and ashamed of my shy nature that I believed everyone else thought the same.  However, my own fears of introducing myself to new faces and putting myself out there were the true causes of why I was alone.  Through this personal challenge, I became much more outgoing, and even willing to sacrifice my dignity in order to be “seen”.  When I was younger, I tended to exaggerate situations and forced myself to believe they were a lot worse than they actually were.  Without this experience, I never would have realized how much I was missing out by just observing as others lived life to its fullest.  I have not isolated myself again since my grandparents’ anniversary, and I never will thanks to my newfound perspective.