[that very simplicity suggesting extreme complexity]

Molly as the prevailing strong female character in the novel.

"He said--" But her hand came up in the jive for silence. 

"Get us some crab," she said. (69)

 -Molly exercises the ease with which she exemplifies that she is the one who "wears the pants" in this relationship.

Molly took his place, extruded the blade from her index finger, and speared a grayish slab of herring. Case wandered aimlessly around the room, fingering the scanning gear on the pylons as he passed. (70) 

-Molly's actions seem to be full of purpose-- she is constantly at work. Meanwhile, Case seems more akin to a child in a strange new world.

Two hours later, Case fell beside Molly on the slab and let the temperfoam mold itself against him. (79)

-This is just one example of Molly's constant, prevailing presence in Case's daily life. She is constantly referenced to despite Case being the protagonist of this story-- even when she is doing something as trifle as sleeping.

Case watched her pack. There were dark circles under her eyes, but even with the cast on, it was like watching a dance. No wasted motion. His clothes were a rumpled pile beside his bag. (82)

-This again pits Molly and Case against each other in a very effective foil. Case frequently observes her in awe, she is depicted as the more "collected" of the two-- especially emphasized the last sentence of this excerpt.

"Wake up, baby," Case said. "Biz."

"I've been awake an hour already." The mirrors turned. (85)

-Whether this is simply an act of affection or, quite literally, Case "babying" Molly-- she isn't taking it.

"I want to know about the implants," she said, massaging her thigh, "I want to know exactly what he can do." (86)

-Gibson inserts the afterthought that Molly is massaging her injured and obviously aching thigh, reiterating her "toughness"-- still able to get right down to business despite physical pain.

"In Turkey, women are still women. This one..."

The Finn snorted. "She'd have you wearing your balls for a bow tie if you looked at her cross-eyed." (87) 

-Another example of Molly being so "kick-ass."

Molly stepped out of the shadows, all in black, with her fletcher in hand. (89)

-This adds to the mysterious aura that seems to surround Molly.

"Never mind. Let's go back to Beyoglu and find something like breakfast. I gotta busy night again, tonight. Gotta collect his stuff from the apartment in Fener, gotta go back to the bazaar and buy him some drugs...." (92)

-Molly is again taking charge of things in her relationship with Case. All the while, she is truly "caring" for the members of the team. Whether it is reminding Case to eat or making sure Riviera gets his drug fix.

On the THY liner to Paris, they sat together in First Class, Molly in the window seat, Case beside her, Riviera and Armitage on the aisle. (99)

-Gibson chooses to address first were Molly is seated and merely places Case in relation to where she is.

He was numb, as they went through customs, and Molly did most of the talking. (119)

-Molly, once again, acting as the backbone of the group.

Molly was sleeping when he returned to the Intercontinental. (129)

-It may just be something as simple as fatigue, but Molly always seems to be fast asleep whenever Case is returning from being out. There is a somewhat prevalent image of a wife waiting up for her husband to come home late from work-- with his dinner ready, etc. Molly is the antithesis of this.

[the color of television]

Gibson immediately solidifies the setting to Neuromancer in the opening sentence.  The sky above the port was the color of television, tuned to a dead channel. My initial thoughts are of the phenomena known as “white noise” and the take-over of technology. Instantly, in a single sentence, we are familiarized with what much of this story will be about. Likening the sky to such a thing as the “color of television” further evokes the sense of this somewhere-in-the-somewhat-distant-future place being engulfed by technology. There is then the paradox of there being color of television, despite being “tuned to a dead channel.” A dead channel should imply that indeed there is no color. This emphasizes the lifelessness that surrounds the port; one is reminded of the dull, possibly mind-numbing sound of a dead channel as well. All of this, with a single, 15-word sentence.

There is much to be deduced when it comes to the clinic where Case has his second operation done. The clinic was nameless, expensively appointed, a cluster of sleek pavilions separated by small formal gardens. First and foremost, the clinic itself is dubbed nameless. The readers are not provided with a name, and neither is Case. This deals a good amount of ambiguity to the clinic, and raises suspicion. There is also that the clinic was “expensively appointed.” This tells us that there are big powers at work here, that Armitage and whoever else is behind this scheme are being funded in someway. We then get the sense that the clinic’s exterior is tranquil and inviting, right before experiencing Case’s painful, furtive operation two pages later. An anonymous, deceitful, albeit seemingly welcoming clinic.

[the tyger and the spider speak - final]

Comedian Brett Butler once said, “There are no accidents. God’s just trying to remain anonymous.” Though this was said subsequent to the publication of William Blake’s “The Tyger” or Robert Frost’s “Design,” both poems echo this quote. While in the latter, God is more of an anonymous figure than in the former, hints of his presence and intervention are strong in both works. In “Design,” Robert Frost touches upon the notion of a higher order or divine being, dancing around the idea and lightly entertaining the thought; whereas, William Blake’s “The Tyger” is much more overt and further asserts this suggestion of a God/creator. Frost and Blake utilize similar techniques and devices to suggest or advocate the existence of a greater control, a “puppet master” perhaps. Through the employment of animal and nature themes; exploiting the method of rhetorical questioning; and providing unconventional imagery of nature-- the two poets, either explicitly or shrewdly, insinuate the presence of a superior control that which governs everything, from our lives to that of a tenacious tiger or a miniscule moth. 

Both “Design” and “The Tyger” display strong nature and animal themes. The protagonist (if you will) of one being a “dimpled spider” and the other a tiger, respectively. Light and dark imagery are prevalent in both compositions. Frost pit’s a white moth against the dark of night in line 12 of “Design.” In “The Tyger,” Blake sets the tiger “burning bright” against “the forests of the night” as well.  In his sonnet, Frost establishes a dominantly snow-white setting of the natural, day-to-day occurrence of a spider’s repast. He establishes this lasting scene before proposing to the reader the concept of a higher order following the volta of the poem. Readers are taken from a picturesque panorama of pure simplicity to the mind-boggler of the century (is there a God?). In this way, Frost first entrances his reader with this seemingly harmless scene, dressed in the innocent veneer of whiteness before introducing the darker meat of the poem, the portion that raises insight and questions (which Frost strategically chooses to leave unanswered). In the same way that Frost hits us with the oh-so-irregular image of a white spider, Blake strikes readers with the thought of a “tyger burning bright.” Instantly, you are made to comprehend the vivacity of this tiger, the central subject of the poem; its “orange-ness” takes on a whole new height. In contrast to Frost, however, Blake chooses to at once cut to business-- immediately ruminating over this tiger’s existence. He begins with the strong image of a burning tiger and continues to pummel readers as he hurls byzantine queries this way and that in nearly every other line of the poem.

Frost, too, unleashes the tool of rhetorical questioning from his arsenal, though he also deliberately puts to use the method of not answering the questions he himself poses. This way, he lays this responsibility on the reader-- leaving much left to the imagination. Frost only implies to enough to provide readers with a basis to ponder the ever-baffling question of: “is there something, or someone, more?” In “The Tyger,” Blake is not only more brutal and upfront with his use of rhetorical questions; he also answers these questions (with more questions, “Did He smile His work to see?”) In the first four stanzas of the poem, Blake’s refers to a divine being which is yet to be actualized, as the “he” refers to is yet to become a proper noun, this changes in the fifth stanza where he chooses to answer the proposed questions and dubs this greater power as “He.” Blake is also more apparent in his reference when he alludes to “the lamb,” an animal that is commonly associated with God in this context. These two poems suggest the existence of a God to varying degrees; similarly, they indicate his/her divine intervention as well.

The image of nature that Frost sets up in such an unnatural light is so intentional in its set-up that it certainly raises a flag for readers; none of this is by accident. The poem suggests that behind even the most trifling of events there is a particular purpose, some form of a design-- a “method to the madness.” Likewise, Blake suggests a certain “design” behind the creation of the tiger as well. He addresses the tiger in the poem asking, “What immortal hand or eye could frame thy fearful symmetry?” This line is later repeated as the last line of the poem, thought instead of “could” Blake uses the stronger verb “dare.” Throughout the poem, Blake insinuates that this tiger is something like a work of art, pinpointing its particular features and in the third stanza paralleling its creator as a blacksmith of sorts, “What the hammer? What the chain? In what furnace was why brain? What the anvil?” Obviously, the creation of this tiger was something much beyond just intentional, this involved thorough pre-meditation on the creator’s part. The intent with which the tiger was produced, the machination underlying a spider’s everyday meal-- the intricacy implied in both events are then meant to imply the existence of a driving force behind them.

On second thought, these two poems actually have a common protagonist-- God, the spider and tiger only serving as sub-characters subject to the shared protagonist’s intervention. Frost and Blake employ similar tactics in their works but differ in that Frost chooses to take the path of power in subtlety, while Blake takes a contrasting course in his similar quest to corroborate God’s presence. 

[the tyger and the spider speak - draft]

In “Design,” Robert Frost touches upon the notion of a higher order or divine being, dancing around the idea and entertaining the thought; whereas, William Blake’s “The Tyger” is much more overt and further asserts this suggestion of a God/creator. Frost and Blake utilize similar techniques and devices to suggest or advocate the existence of a greater control, a “puppet master” perhaps. Through the employment of animal and nature themes; exploiting the method of rhetorical questioning; and providing unconventional imagery of nature-- the two poets, either explicitly or shrewdly, insinuate the presence of a superior control that which governs everything, from our lives to that of a tenacious tiger or a miniscule moth. 

Both “Design” and “The Tyger” display strong nature and animal themes. The protagonist (if you will) of one being a “dimpled spider” and the other a tiger, respectively. In his sonnet, Frost establishes a dominantly snow-white setting of the natural, day-to-day occurrence of a spider’s repast. He establishes this lasting scene before proposing to the reader the concept of a higher order following the volta of the poem. Readers are taken from a picturesque panorama of pure simplicity to the mind-boggler of the century (is there a God?). In this way, Frost first entrances his reader with this seemingly harmless scene, dressed in the innocent veneer of whiteness before introducing the darker meat of the poem, the portion that raises insight and questions (which Frost strategically chooses to leave unanswered). 

In the same way that Frost hits us with the oh-so-irregular image of a white spider, Blake strikes readers with the thought of a “tyger burning bright.” Instantly, you are made to comprehend the vivacity of this tiger, the central subject of the poem; its “orange-ness” takes on a whole new height. In contrast to Frost, however, Blake chooses to at once cut to business-- immediately ruminating over this tiger’s existence. He begins with the strong image of a burning tiger and continues to pummel readers as he hurls byzantine queries this way and that in nearly every other line of the poem.

Frost, too, unleashes the tool of rhetorical questioning from his arsenal, though he also deliberately puts to use the method of not answering the questions he himself poses. This way, he lays this responsibility on the reader-- leaving much left to the imagination. Frost only implies to enough to provide readers with a basis to ponder the ever-baffling question of: “is there something, or someone, more?” In “The Tyger,” Blake is not only more brutal and upfront with his use of rhetorical questions; he also answers these questions (with more questions, “Did He smile His work to see?”) In the first four stanzas of the poem, Blake’s refers to a divine being which is yet to be actualized, as the “he” refers to is yet to become a proper noun, this changes in the fifth stanza where he chooses to answer the proposed questions and dubs this greater power as “He.”

On second thought, these two poems actually have a common protagonist-- God.

[batman who?]

I would vouch that employing a pop culture icon such as Bruce Wayne served the work well in that it does not take away from its literary merit in any significant way. This method serves to connect the reader to the work which makes it all-the-more readable.

In his piece “The Other Universe of Bruce Wayne,” Bucky Sinister’s reference to one of the most prevalent of pop culture icons is effective in that it feels like an inside joke of sorts for its readers. He utilizes this most potently at the onset of the poem by alluding to things that the general public would associate with the Batman we all know and love: “no Batmobile, no Batcave, no utility belts, much less a cool butler and a trusted sidekick.” 

The fact that we know these things to have existed (at least in the fictional world) makes their absence in this alternate universe all the more distinct. This also provides a backdrop for the story Sinister presents; the “original” universe we know Bruce Wayne to exist in serves as a vivid comparison. If it were not for this, the narrative would simply appear to be arbitrary and of no remote relevance. Put harshly, it would just be another account of heartbreak and alcoholism. Sinister creates a sense of familiarity despite describing a completely foreign scenario. 

Also, his referencing an icon so well known makes the satirical nature of the work much more palpable. In the work, Sinister truly tears down the Bruce Wayne that we have built up in our minds and that media has fashioned for us. 

The last portion of the story is especially powerful in that the other other universe (where Bruce Wayne is Batman) is acknowledged and Bucky Sinister even manages to raise the question, who is he (or even, who are YOU) in an alternate universe?

[pop poetry]

Cartoon Network Love

by Jhoana Rose Juen

In vain I cry, “I-am-not-your-boyfriend!”

Yet, Panini you insist, you persist.

“Oh Chowder, Chowder!” I can see no end.

Panini can’t you see. This common trend?

You marvel, you gaze; I flee, I resist.

In vain I cry, “I-am-not-your-boyfriend!”

My fancy you want? That I cannot lend.

There’s no saying how we could coexist.

“Oh Chowder, Chowder!” I can see no end.

I‘m not sorry, your wrecked heart I won’t mend.

Now don’t get me wrong, I’m no solipsist.

In vain I cry, “I-am-not-your-boyfriend!”

It’s so simple, so clear, I’m just your friend

My dear. Take your name off the waiting list.

“Oh Chowder, Chowder!” I can see no end.

If you might just read this poem I’ve penned..

But you just reminisce-- of when we kissed.

In vain I cry, “I-am-not-your-boyfriend!”

“Oh Chowder, my Chowder!” This is the end.

[i dwell in a house made of writer's blocks]

One primary function of the em-dash in Emily Dickinson’s “I dwell in possibility” is to take the function of a stronger, more effective period. The dashes make for abrupt, yet more elongated pauses when read. By doing this, Dickinson creates further emphasis on particular words. In the first stanza, these stressed words are “Possibility,” “Prose,” “Windows,” “Superior,” and “for Doors.” Since one must pause after an em-dash, the reader will linger on these words more. 

In this same stanza, Dickinson writes that she would rather the openness of possibility, as opposed to prose which is limited. She compares the two to a house, the house of possibility being one composed primarily of windows making it the “superior“ one, and the prose, as it is limited and closed-off, is a house of mostly doors. “for Doors” is especially separated from in the stanza, to create a sense of being cut off or separated; isolation in a sense. 

On the other hand, in the second stanza, the dashes are present as more of a way to connect the different lines. In the second stanza, Dickinson is listing that which makes this “house of possibility” better. This is a meta-poem, and Dickinson is glorifying poetry over prose. Possibility and poem are synonymous to her here. 

Through her (what some might see as) excessive and unconventional use of dashes, Dickinson is making an example of exactly what she is entailing in the poem itself. Through her use of dashes, she is able to make use of minimal words. For example, she writes “Of Visitors--the fairest--.” By placing “the fairest” in between the dashes, she is effortlessly accentuating just how fair these visitors are, without any other words necessary.