Ernest Hemingway A Clean Well-Lighted Place

Choose one of the following passages, then write an essay of 650–750 wordsexplaining the significance of the passage. The word count does not include the mandatory works cited list. A strong essay will demonstrate close reading skills and will relate the concerns of the passage to the broader concerns of the story.

Ernest Hemingway, “A Clean, Well-Lighted Place”:

The old man sitting in the shadow rapped on his saucer with his glass. The younger waiter went over to him.

“What do you want?”

The old man looked at him. “Another brandy,” he said.

“You’ll be drunk,” the waiter said. The old man looked at him. The waiter went away.

“He’ll stay all night,” he said to his colleague. “I’m sleepy now. I never get into bed before three o’clock. He should have killed himself last week.”

The waiter took the brandy bottle and another saucer from the counter inside the café and marched out to the old man’s table. He put down the saucer and poured the glass full of brandy.

“You should have killed yourself last week,” he said to the deaf man. (153–54)

Amy Tan, “Two Kinds”:

“Turn off TV,” she called from the kitchen five minutes later.

I didn’t budge. And then I decided. I didn’t have to do what my mother said anymore. I wasn’t her slave. This wasn’t China. I had listened to her before and look what happened. She was the stupid one.

She came out from the kitchen and stood in the arched entryway of the living room. “Four clock,” she said once again, louder.

“I’m not going to play anymore,” I said nonchalantly. “Why should I? I’m not a genius.”

She walked over and stood in front of the TV. I saw her chest was heaving up and down in an angry way.

“No!” I said, and I now felt stronger, as if my true self had finally emerged. So this was what had been inside me all along. (297)

Eudora Welty, “Why I Live at the P.O.”:

“I,” says Mama, “I prefer to take my children’s word for anything when it’s humanly possible.” You ought to see Mama, she weighs two hundred pounds and has real tiny feet.

Just then something perfectly horrible occurred to me.

“Mama,” I says, “can that child talk?” I simply had to whisper! “Mama, I wonder if that child can be—you know—in any way? Do you realize,” I says, “that she hasn’t spoken one single, solitary word to a human being up to this minute? This is the way she looks,” I says, and I looked like this.

Well, Mama and I just stood there and stared at each other. It was horrible!