"Jungle rain had no beginning or end; it grew like foliage from the sky, branching and arching to the earth, sometimes in solid thickets entangling the islands, and other times, in tendrils of blue mist curling out of coastal clouds...this was not the rain he and Josiah had prayed for, this was not the green foliage they sought out in sandy canyons as a sign of a spring. When Tayo prayed on the long muddy road to the prison camp, it was for dry air, dry as a hundred years squeezed out of yellow sand, air to dry out the oozing wounds of Rocky's leg, to let the torn flesh and broken bones breathe...Tayo hated this unending rain as if it were the jungle green rain and not the miles of marching or the Japanese grenade that was killing Rocky. He would blame the rain if the Japs saw how the corporal staggered; if they saw how weak Rocky had become, and came to crush his head with the butt of a rifle, then it would be the rain and green all around that killed him." (pg. 10 Silko).
Sunday, January 26, 2014
Ceremony by Leslie Marmon Silko
In school, my class and I have begun to read Ceremony By Leslie Marmon Silko, a post World War Two story of a Native American, Laguna Pueblo man, Tayo, after seeing the hardships of war in Japan. Tayo, a half White half Laguna Pueblo, lives on the Laguna Pueblo reservation on New Mexico and is trying to survive the P.T.S.D that he now lives with by healing with stories, nature, and and other culture methods of his people. Although the novel does not yet have an obvious plot line, the novel is written gorgeously, and digs deep into inside battle of P.T.S.D, the Laguna Pueblo culture, along with human nature. I am right now having a lot of trouble focusing on the story just because the book is so beautifully written. Below I have put in parts of my favorite paragraph from the book thus far, because of the amazing language within the paragraph, and how it is used to create the desired feelings and setting of which Tayo is in.
"Jungle rain had no beginning or end; it grew like foliage from the sky, branching and arching to the earth, sometimes in solid thickets entangling the islands, and other times, in tendrils of blue mist curling out of coastal clouds...this was not the rain he and Josiah had prayed for, this was not the green foliage they sought out in sandy canyons as a sign of a spring. When Tayo prayed on the long muddy road to the prison camp, it was for dry air, dry as a hundred years squeezed out of yellow sand, air to dry out the oozing wounds of Rocky's leg, to let the torn flesh and broken bones breathe...Tayo hated this unending rain as if it were the jungle green rain and not the miles of marching or the Japanese grenade that was killing Rocky. He would blame the rain if the Japs saw how the corporal staggered; if they saw how weak Rocky had become, and came to crush his head with the butt of a rifle, then it would be the rain and green all around that killed him." (pg. 10 Silko).
"Jungle rain had no beginning or end; it grew like foliage from the sky, branching and arching to the earth, sometimes in solid thickets entangling the islands, and other times, in tendrils of blue mist curling out of coastal clouds...this was not the rain he and Josiah had prayed for, this was not the green foliage they sought out in sandy canyons as a sign of a spring. When Tayo prayed on the long muddy road to the prison camp, it was for dry air, dry as a hundred years squeezed out of yellow sand, air to dry out the oozing wounds of Rocky's leg, to let the torn flesh and broken bones breathe...Tayo hated this unending rain as if it were the jungle green rain and not the miles of marching or the Japanese grenade that was killing Rocky. He would blame the rain if the Japs saw how the corporal staggered; if they saw how weak Rocky had become, and came to crush his head with the butt of a rifle, then it would be the rain and green all around that killed him." (pg. 10 Silko).
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