Identities

Identities **by W.D. Valgardson (adapted)**

Normally, he goes clean-shaven into the world, but the promise of a Saturday liquid with sunshine draws him first from his study to the backyard, from there to his front yard. The smell of burning leaves stirs the memories of childhood car rides, narrow lanes adrift with yellow leaves, girls on plodding horses, unattended stands piled high with pumpkins, onions, or beets. Always, there were salmon tins glinting with silver, set above hand-painted signs instructing purchasers to deposit twenty-five or fifty cents. This act of faith containing all the stories he has read in childhood about the North – cabins left unlocked, filled with supplies for lost wanderers – wakes in him a desire to temporarily abandon the neat yards and hundred-year-old oaks.

He does not hurry for he has no destination. He drifts, instead, through the neat suburban streets and cul-de-sacs, losing and finding his way endlessly. Becoming lost is made all the easier because the houses appear identical, repeat themselves with hardly a variation. There grows within him, however, a boredom with the sameness – no ragged edges, no overgrown vacant lots.

The houses have all faced toward the sun. Now, as he passes grey stone gates, the yards are all proscribed by stiff picket fences and, quickly, a certain untidiness creeps in: a fragment of glass, a chocolate bar wrapper, a plastic horse, cracked sidewalks with ridges of stiff grass.

Although he has on blue jeans – matching pants and jacket made in Paris – he is driving a grey Mercedes Benz. Gangs of young men follow the car with unblinking eyes. The young men stand and lean in tired, watchful knots close to phone booths and seedy looking grocery stores. Their slick hair glistens. Their leather jackets gleam with studs. Eagles, tigers, wolves and serpents ride their backs.

He passes a ten-foot wire fence enclosing a playground bare of equipment and pounded flat. The gate is double locked, the fence cut and rolled into a cone. Three boys throw stones at pigeons. Paper clogs the fence like drifted snow. The school is covered with heavy screens. Its yellow brick is pock-marked, chipped.

The houses are squat, as though they have been taller and have, slowly, sunk into the ground. Each has a band of dirt around the bottom. The blue glow of television sets light the windows. On the front steps of a red-roofed house, a man sits. He wears black pants, a tartan vest, a brown snap-rimmed hat. Beside him is a suitcase.

Fences here are little more than fragments. Cars jam the narrow streets and he worries that he might strike the grubby children who dart back and forth like startled fish. Darkness has quietly been settling like soot. Street lights come on. He takes them as a signal to return the way he came, but it has been a reckless, haphazard path. Retracing it is impossible. He is overtaken by sudden guilt. He has left no message for his wife.

There have been no trees or drifting leaves, no stands covered in produce, no salmon tins, but time has run away with him. His wife, he realizes, will have returned from shopping, his children gathered for supper. He also knows that, at first, they will have explained his absence on a neighbour’s hospitality. However, by the time he can return, annoyance will have blossomed into alarm.

Faced with this, he decides to call the next time he sees a store or phone booth. So intent is he upon the future that he dangerously ignores the present and does not notice the police car, concealed in the shadows of a side street, nose out and follow him.

Ahead, there is a small store with windows covered in hand painted signs and vertical metal bars. On the edge of the light, three young men and a girl slouch. One of them has a beard and, in spite of the advancing darkness, wears sunglasses. He has on a fringed leather vest. His companions wear leather jackets. Their peaked caps make their heads seem flat, their foreheads non-existent. The girl is better looking than she should be for such companions. She is long legged and wears a white turtle-necked sweater.

In spite of his car, he hopes his day old beard which he strokes upward with the heel of his hand, will, when combined with his clothes, help him to blend in – to remain unnoticed. He slips his wallet into his shirt pocket, does up the metal buttons on his jacket and slips a ten dollar bill into his back pocket. Recalling a television show, he decides that if he is assaulted, he will say that the ten is all he’s got, that he stole the car, and ask them if they know a buyer.

He edges nervously along the fender and past the grille. The store window illuminates the sidewalk like a stage. Beyond the light, everything is obscured by darkness. He is so intent upon the three men and the girl that he does not notice the police car drift against the curb, nor the officer who is advancing with a pistol in his hand.

When the officer, who is inexperienced, who is nervous because of the neighbourhood, who is suspicious because of the car and, because he has been trained to see an unshaven man in blue jeans as a potential thief and not as a probable owner, orders him to halt, he is caught by surprise. When he turns part way around and recognizes the uniform, he does not feel fear but relief. Instinctively relaxing, certain of his safety, in the last voluntary movement of his life, he reaches his hand not in the air as he was ordered to, but toward his wallet for identity.



Questions:

Short Stories - Literary Devises Title: Identities

Point of View: Third person

Protagonist: The man

What type of character is the Protagonist? Round, dynamic

Antagonist: Himself

Describe the setting: It starts off in a calm peaceful, and very usual day in the (presumably) suburbs, then as the day progresses he drives into a dark, dreary, dangerous part of the area. The mood goes from light and wonderful, to dark and haunting immediately.

Type of Conflict: Man versus Himself, Society and at the end of it all, versus man

Describe the main conflict: The main conflict is the false judgment he imposes on the people in the poorer part of the neighborhood, suspecting all of them of bad things, and you can tell the clash of societies easily.

Describe the Climax of the Story: Is when the author writes: ‘ in the last voluntary movement of his life, he reaches his hand not in the air as he was ordered to, but toward his wallet for identity.’ This is also the ending, since nothing new can be revealed.

How does the Protagonist change over the course of the story? He realized the policeman judged him the same way he judged the poor people in the town. His realization tells him he was wrong.

Describe the relationship between the title and the theme.

The title, Identities, relates to the theme in that he judged the poor with out knowing their true persona, their identities.

How does the main conflict help to illustrate the theme? The man fighting himself is a prime example of the theme of prejudice.

How does the climax help to illustrate the theme? It shows that anyone can have a misjudgment, as the policeman shows through his actions.

Give examples of each of the following literary terms in the story (use quotes):

Simile: with unblinking eyes, the young men stand and lean in tired, watchful knots, Saturday liquid with

sunshine, darkness has quietly been settling like soot, nose out

Metaphor: w ho dart back and forth like startled fish, Paper clogs the fence like drifted snow, sidewalk like a stage

Personification: Eagles, tigers, wolves and serpents ride their backs, advancing darkness, their slick hair glistens.

Symbol: a fragment of glass, a chocolate bar wrapper, a plastic horse, cracked sidewalks with ridges of stiff grass, narrow lanes adrift with yellow leaves, girls on plodding horses, unattended stands piled high with pumpkins, onions, or beets. Always, there were salmon tins glinting with silver, set above hand-painted signs instructing purchasers to deposit twenty-five or fifty cents, seedy looking grocery stores, the gate is double locked, the fence cut and rolled into a cone. Three boys throw stones at pigeons.

Foreshadowing (give both elements): Direct: So intent is he upon the future that he dangerously ignores the present and does not notice the police car, concealed in the shadows of a side street, nose out and follow him.

Subtle: The houses have all faced toward the sun. Now, as he passes grey stone gates, the yards are all proscribed by stiff picket fences and, quickly, a certain untidiness creeps in.

Irony: So intent is he upon the future that he dangerously ignores the present and does not notice the police car, concealed in the shadows of a side street, nose out and follow him. He doesn’t notice the police car, but the readers do. It happens again: He is so intent upon the three men and the girl that he does not notice the police car drift against the curb, nor the officer who is advancing with a pistol in his hand.

Imagery: This act of faith containing all the stories he has read in childhood about the North – cabins left unlocked, filled with supplies for lost wanderers – wakes in him a desire to temporarily abandon the neat yards and hundred-year-old oaks. This is his imagery of the North.

Describe the relationships between the class theme and the story.

The relationship between the class theme, humanity and the story is that we can judge people by their cover, but we don’t realize how bad it is until we have it done to us. It shows how we are not perfect and we need to show more humanity towards the other social groups.

Complete 5/5

Effort 4/5

Content 3.5/5

Paragraph 4/5

tota16.5/20