Feed on




Wole Soyinka

b. 1939

Wole Soyinka was born in Abeokuta, near Ibadan, in western Nigeria, and educated at Government College and University College, in Ibadan. In 1954 he began his studies at the University of Leeds. After six years in England he returned to Nigeria, where he founded a national theater in 1960 and, at the cost of repeated imprisonment, intervened in tumultuous political struggles. He has taught at universities in Ibadan, lagos, and Ife, as well as North American universities. In 1986 he became the first black African writer to receive the Novel Prize in Literature, recognized for plays, such as Death and the King’s Horseman (1975), that inventively hybridize Yoruba oral traditions with European literary paradigms, fuse African rhetoric, myth, and ritual with the verbal extravagance of Elizabethan and Jacobean theater. He has also written poems, including ”Telephone Conversation,” a mini verse drama of sorts in which two characters, a racist English landlady and an African trying to rent an apartment, are wittily pitted against one another.

Telephone Conversation

Wole Soyinka

The price seemed reasonable, location

Indifferent. The landlady swore she lived

Off premises. Nothing remained

But self-confession. “Madam,” I warned,

5         “I hate a wasted journey—I am African.”

Silence. Silenced transmission of

Pressurized good-breeding. Voice, when it came,

Lipstick coated, long gold-rolled

Cigarette-holder pipped. Caught I was, foully.


10         “HOW DARK?” . . . I had not misheard . . . “ARE YOU LIGHT

OR VERY DARK?” Button B. Button A. Stench

Of rancid breath of public hide-and-speak.

Red booth. Red pillar-box. Red double-tiered

Omnibus squelching tar. It was real! Shamed

15         By ill-mannered silence, surrender

Pushed dumbfoundment to beg simplification.

Considerate she was, varying the emphasis—


“ARE YOU DARK? OR VERY LIGHT?” Revelation came.

“You mean—like plain or milk chocolate?”

20         Her assent was clinical, crushing in its light

Impersonality. Rapidly, wavelength adjusted,

I chose. “West African sepia”—and as an afterthought,

“Down in my passport.” Silence for spectroscopic

Flight of fancy, till truthfulness clanged her accent

25         Hard on the mouthpiece. “WHAT’S THAT?” conceding,

“DON’T KNOW WHAT THAT IS.” “Like brunette.”


“THAT’S DARK, ISN’T IT?” “Not altogether.

Facially, I am brunette, but madam, you should see

The rest of me. Palm of my hand, soles of my feet

30         Are a peroxide blonde. Friction, caused—

Foolishly, madam—by sitting down, has turned

My bottom raven black—One moment madam!”—sensing

Her receiver rearing on the thunderclap

About my ears—“Madam,” I pleaded, “wouldn’t you rather

35         See for yourself?”


Cape Town

J.M. Coetzee

b. 1940

Coetzee was born in Cape Town, Cape Province, Union of South Africa, on 9 February 1940[3] to parents of Afrikaner descent.[4] His father, Zacharias Coetzee, was an occasional lawyer, government employee and sheep farmer, and his mother, Vera Wehmeyer Coetzee, a schoolteacher.[5][6] The family spoke English at home, but Coetzee spoke Afrikaans with other relatives.[5] Coetzee is descended from early Dutch immigrants dating to the 17th century,[7] and also has Polish ancestry from his maternal great-grandfather, Baltazar Dubiel.

Coetzee spent most of his early life in Cape Town and in Worcester in Cape Province (modern-day Western Cape) as recounted in his fictionalized memoir, Boyhood (1997). The family moved to Worcester when Coetzee was eight after his father lost his government job due to disagreements over the state’s apartheid policy.[6] Coetzee attended St. Joseph’s College, a Catholic school in the Cape Town suburb of Rondebosch,[8] and later studied mathematics and English at the University of Cape Town, receiving his Bachelor of Arts with Honours in English in 1960 and his Bachelor of Arts with Honours in Mathematics in 1961.[9][10]

Coetzee relocated to the United Kingdom in 1962, where he worked as a computer programmer, staying until 1965.[5] He worked for IBM in London. In 1963, while working in the UK, he was awarded a Master of Arts degree from the University of Cape Town for a dissertation on the novels of Ford Madox Ford.[5] His experiences in England were later recounted in Youth (2002), his second volume of fictionalized memoirs.


Plot synopsis:
The story is set in a small frontier town under the jurisdiction of a political entity known only as “the Empire”. The town’s magistrate is the story’s protagonist and first-person narrator. His rather peaceful existence in the town comes to an end with the declaration of a state of emergency and arrival of the Third Bureau, special forces of the Empire, led by a sinister Colonel Joll. There are rumours that the natives of the land, called “barbarians”, are preparing an attack on the Empire, and so Colonel Joll and his men conduct an expedition into the land beyond the frontier. They capture a number of barbarians, bring them back to town, torture them, kill some of them, and leave for the capital in order to prepare a larger campaign against the barbarians.

In the meantime, the Magistrate begins to question the legitimacy of imperialism and personally nurses a barbarian girl who was left crippled and partly blinded by the Third Bureau’s torturers. The magistrate has an intimate yet ambiguous relationship with the girl. Eventually, he decides to take her back to her people. After a life-threatening trip through the barren land, during which they have sex, he succeeds in returning her—finally asking, to no avail, if she will stay with him—and returns to his own town. The Third Bureau soldiers have reappeared there and now arrest the Magistrate for having deserted his post and consorting with “the enemy”. Without much possibility of a trial in wartime, the Magistrate remains in a locked cellar for an indefinite period, experiencing for the first time a near-complete lack of basic freedoms. He finally acquires a key that allows him to leave the makeshift jail, but finds that he has no place to escape to and only spends his time outside the jail scavenging for scraps of food.

Later, Colonel Joll triumphantly returns from the wilderness with several barbarian captives and makes a public spectacle of their torture. Although the crowd is encouraged to participate in their beatings, the Magistrate bursts onto the scene to stop it, but is subdued. Taking the Magistrate, a group of soldiers hangs him up by his arms, culminating his understanding of imperialistic violence in a personal experience of torture. With the Magistrate’s spirit clearly crushed, the soldiers mockingly let him roam freely through the town, knowing he has nowhere to go and no longer poses a threat to their mission. The soldiers, however, begin to abandon the town as winter approaches and their campaign against the barbarians starts to fall apart. The Magistrate tries to confront Joll on his final return from the wild, but the colonel refuses to speak to him, hastily fleeing the area with the last of the soldiers. With a widespread belief that the barbarians intend to invade the town soon, all the soldiers and many civilians have now departed, though the Magistrate helps encourage the remaining townspeople to continue their lives and to prepare for the winter. There is no sign of the barbarians by the time the season’s first snow falls on the town.

Poco: Caribbean

The Caribbean



Claude McKay


Claude McKay was born into a poor farmworking family in Sunny Ville, Clarendon Parish, Jamaica, and spent the first half of his life on the British Caribbean island. He was apprenticed to a cabinetmaker and then a wheelwright and served for less than a year as a police constable in Kingston. An English linguist and Folklorist, Walter Jekyll, encouraged him to write in Jamaican dialect, or Creole. Drawing on the example of the Scottish-dialect poet Robert Burns, McKay harnessed Jamaican idiom in poems collected in two books published in 1912, Constab Ballads and Songs of Jamaica, including “Old England,” a seeming reverent imaginative journey, in a new literary use of Jamaican English, he influenced many later Afro-Caribbean poets who went further, such as Louise Bennet.

For his poetry McKay won a prize that enabled him to travel to the United States and study at Alabama’s Tuskegee Institute and at Kansas State College, before moving to Harlem in 1914. Switching in his poetry from Jamaican to Standard English, he helped precipitate the Harlem Renaissance with his Harlem Shadows (1922), which included sonnets addressing the vexed racial experience of an Afro-Caribbean immigrant. For most of the 1920s into the mid-1930’s, McKay, identifying with the radical left, lived and wrote novels and short stories mainly in England, France, and Morocco. He died in poverty in Chicago, where he taught in his last years for a Catholic youth organization. His sonnet “If We Must Die,” written in response to the American antiblack riots of the summer of 1919, became a World War 2 rallying cry after Winston Churchill read it, without attribution, to the British people.


If We Must Die

by Claude McKay

If we must die—let it not be like hogs

Hunted and penned in an inglorious spot,

While round us bark the mad and hungry dogs,

Making their mock at our accursed lot.

If we must die—oh, let us nobly die,

So that our precious blood may not be shed

In vain; then even the monsters we defy

Shall be constrained to honor us though dead!

Oh, Kinsmen!  We must meet the common foe;

Though far outnumbered, let us show us brave,

And for their thousand blows deal one deathblow!

What though before us lies the open grave?

Like men we’ll face the murderous, cowardly pack,

Pressed to the wall, dying, but fighting back!



Kamui Brathwaite

b. 1930

As a poet and historian Kamau Brathwaite has been the most prominent West Indian spokesman for “the literature of reconnection”: he has sought to recover and revalue the African inheritance in the Caribbean—a religious, linguistic, and cultural inheritance seen as embarrassing or taboo through most of the twentieth century. In History of the Voice, a lecture first delivered in 1979, Brathwaite argues that Afro-Caribbeans, their ancestors uprooted by slavery, were further cut off from their specific history and their local environment by Standard English models of language and literature. He proposes “nation language,” a creolized English saturated with African words, rhythms, even grammar, as a crucial tool for writers to recuperate Afro-Caribbean history and experience. His own poetry draws on West Indian syncopations, orality, and musical traditions, but also adapts imported models, such as the modernist dislocations of persona, rhythm, and tone in T.S. Eliot’s verse.

He was born Lawson Edward Brathwaite in Bridgetown, Barbados, at the eastern edge of the West Indies. His undergraduate studies in history were at Cambridge University; his graduate studies, at the University of Sussex. He worked as an education officer for the Ministry of Education in Ghana (1955-62) and taught history at the University of the West Indies, before taking a position in comparative literature at New York University in 1991. His many books of poetry include a work of epic scope and scale, The Arrivants: A New World Trilogy(1973), which fathers Rights of Passage (1967), Masks (1968), and Islands (1969).

(This link is also helpful on a overview of [Nation Language] http://www.courses.vcu.edu/ENG-snh/Caribbean/Barbados/Caribbean/lanuage.htm and for further information http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Nation_language .

Kamau Brathwaite



from “Islands and Exiles”



The stone had skidded arc’d and bloomed into islands:

Cuba and San Domingo

Jamaica and Puerto Rico

Grenada Guadeloupe Bonaire


curved stone hissed into reef

wave teeth fanged into clay

white splash flashed into spray

Bathsheba Montego Bay


bloom of the arcing summers…



The islands roared into green plantations

ruled by silver sugar cane

sweat and profit

cutlass profit

islands ruled by sugar cane


And of course it was a wonderful time

a profitable hospitable well-worth-you-time

when captains carried receipts for rices

letters spices wigs

opera glasses swaggering asses

debtors vices pigs


O it was a wonderful time

an elegant benevolent redolent time–

and young Mrs. P.’s quick irrelevant crine

at four o’clock in the morning…



But what of black Sam

with the big splayed toes

and the shoe black shiny skin?


He carries bucketfulls of water

’cause his Ma’s just had another daughter.


And what of John with the European name

who went to school and dreamt of fame

his boss one day called him a fool

and the boss hadn’t even been to school…



Steel drum steel drum

hit the hot calypso dancing

hot rum hot rum

who goin’ stop this bacchanalling?


For we glance the banjoy

dance the limbo

grow our crops by maljo


have loose morals

gather corals

father out neighbour’s quarrels


perhaps when they come

with their cameras and straw

hats:  sacred pink tourists from the frozen Nawth


we should get down to those

white beaches

where if we don’t wear breeches


it becomes an island dance

Some people doin’ well

while others are catchin’ hell


o the boss gave our Johnny the sack

though we beg him please

please to take ‘im back


so now the boy nigratin’ overseas…



Saint Lucia

Derek Walcott

b. 1930

Derek Walcott was born on the island of Saint Lucia in the British West Indies, where he had Methodist upbringing in a largely Roman Catholic society. He was educated at St. Mary’s College in Saint Lucia and the University of the West Indies in Jamaica. He then moved to Trinidad, where he worked as a book reviewer, art critic, playwright, and artistic director of a theater workshop. Since the early 1980s he has also taught at a number of American colleges and universities, especially Boston University, in 1992 he received the Nobel Prize in Literature.

As a black poet writing from within both the English literary tradition and the history of a colonized people, Walcott has self-mockingly referred to his split allegiances to his Afro-Caribbean and his European inheritances as those of a “schizophrenic,” a “mongrel,” a “mulatto of style.” His background is indeed racially and culturally mixed: his grandmothers were of African descent; his grandfathers were white, a Dutchman and an Englishman. Schooled in the Standard English that is the official language of Saint Lucia, Walcott also grew up speaking the predominantly French Creole (or patois) that is the primary language of everyday life (the island had traded hands fourteen times in colonial wars between the British and the French). In his poetry this cross-cultural inheritance is sometimes the source of pain and ambivalence, as when in “A Far Cry from Africa” he refers to himself as being “poisoned with the blood of both.” At other times it fuels a celebratory integration of multiple forms, Visions, and energies, as in parts of his long poem Omeros, which transposes elements of Homeric epic from Aegean to the Caribbean.

Even as a schoolboy Walcott knew he was not alone in his effort to sort through his vexed postcolonial affiliations. From a young age he felt a special affinity with Irish writers such as W.B. Yeats, James Joyce, and J. M. Synge, whom he saw as fellow colonials—“They Were the niggers of Britain”—with the same paradoxical hatred for the British Empire and worship of the English Language. He has repeatedly asked how the postcolonial poet can both grieve the agonizing harm of British colonialism and appreciate the empire’s literary gift. Walcott has also acknowledged other English and American writers—T.S. Eliot, Ezra Pound, Hart Crane, W.H. Auden, and Robert Lowell—as enabling influences.

Over the course of his prolific career, Walcott has adapted various European literary archetypes (e.g., the Greek character Philoctetes) and forms (epic, quatrains, terza rima, English meters). He has ascribed his rigorous concern with craft to his youthful Protestantism. At once disciplined and flamboyant as a poet, he insists on the specifically Caribbean opulence of his art: “I come from a place that likes grandeur: it likes large gestures; it is not inhibited by flourish; it is a rhetorical society; it is a society of physical performance; it is a society of style.” Although much of his poetry is in rhetorically elevated Standard English, Walcott adapts the calypso West Indian English, Standard English, and French patrois in Omeros. He has a great passion for metaphor, by which he deftly weaves imaginative connections across cultural and racial boundaries. His plays, written in an accurate and energetic language, are similar infused with the spirit of syncretism, vividly conjoining Caribbean and European motifs, images, and idioms.


A Far Cry From Africa


by Derek Walcott

A wind is ruffling the tawny pelt

Of Africa. Kikuyu, quick as flies,

Batten upon the bloodstreams of the veldt.

Corpses are scattered through a paradise.

Only the worm, colonel of carrion, cries:

“Waste no compassion on these separate dead!”

Statistics justify and scholars seize

The salients of colonial policy.

What is that to the white child hacked in bed?

To savages, expendable as Jews?


Threshed out by beaters, the long rushes break

In a white dust of ibises whose cries

Have wheeled since civilization’s dawn

From the parched river or beast-teeming plain.

The violence of beast on beast is read

As natural law, but upright man

Seeks his divinity by inflicting pain.

Delirious as these worried beasts, his wars

Dance to the tightened carcass of a drum,

While he calls courage still that native dread

Of the white peace contracted by the dead.


Again brutish necessity wipes its hands

Upon the napkin of a dirty cause, again

A waste of our compassion, as with Spain,

The gorilla wrestles with the superman.

I who am poisoned with the blood of both,

Where shall I turn, divided to the vein?

I who have cursed

The drunken officer of British rule, how choose

Between this Africa and the English tongue I love?

Betray them both, or give back what they give?

How can I face such slaughter and be cool?

How can I turn from Africa and live?


British Empire

British Empire


Hugh MacDiarmid



Hugh MacDiarmid, often said to be the greatest Scottish poet since Robert Burns, was born Christopher Murray Grieve in the Scottish border town of Langholm. After a short period of training as a teacher, he turned to journalism. His political convictions made for a turbulent life. He was a founding member of the National Party of Scotland, but it expelled him in 1933 because of his communism. He then joined the Communist Part of Great Britain, but it expelled him as well, because of his Scottish nationalism.

From the 1920’s MacDiarmid was the central figure of the Scottish Renaissance movement. He published short lyrics in a revived Scots, or “Lallans” (i.e., Lowland Scots), a language that fused the rich vocabulary of medieval Scottish poets, modern dialect Scots, and Standard English. In A Drunk Man Looks at the Thistle (1926), he built up an epic statement about Scotland out of a series of related lyrics and passages of descriptive and reflective poetry. In such early poems MacDiamid proved the bifor and robust physicality of Scots as a medium for modern poetry, after the Burns tradition had declined into sentimentality and imitation. In essays such as “English Ascendancy in British Literature” to the Standard English literature of England, championing instead the varieties of Scottish, Irish, and Welsh literatures written in locally distinctive forms of English and other languages of the British Isles.

MacDiarmid wrote little poetry in Scots after the mid-1930’s, when he turned to an ambitious “poetry of fact and first-hand experience and scientific knowledge,” including the long poem In Memoriam James Joyce (1955), written in colloquial English but formally patterned by carefully controlled shifts in tempo. In it he affirms the essential kinship of everything in the world that is fully realized and properly possessed of its identity00a theme that clearly bears on his lifelong preoccupation with Scottish nationality, language, and culture.




MacDiamid reciting the poem http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3cZ3hm2e0S4


(This is only a section of the poem)

A Drunk Man Looks at the Thistle

I amma fou sae muckle as tired deid dune

It’s gey and hard wark coupin gless for gless

Wi Cruvie and Gilsanquar and the like,

And I’m no juist as bauld as aince I wes.


The elbuck fankles in the coorse o time,

The sheckle’s no sae souple, and the thrapple

Grows deef and dour: nae langer up and doun

Gleg as a squirrel speils the Adam’s apple.


Forbye, the stuffie’s no the real MacKay.

The sun’s sel aince, as sune as ye began it,

Riz in your vera saul: but what keeks in

Noo is in truth the vilest ‘saxpenny planet’.


And as the worth’s gane doun the cost has risen.

Yin canna thow the cockles o yin’s hert

Wi-oot haen cauld feet noo, jalousin what

The wife’ll say [I dinna blame her fur’t].


It’s robbin Peter to pey Paul at least….

And aa that’s Scotch aboot it is the name,

Like aa thing else caad Scottish nooadays

– Aa destitute o speerit juist the same.



Seamus Heany

b. 1939

Heaney was born on 13 April 1939, at the family farmhouse called Mossbawn,[2] between Castledawson and Toomebridge in Northern Ireland; he was the first of nine children. In 1953, his family moved to Bellaghy, a few miles away, which is now the family home. His father, Patrick Heaney, was the eighth child of ten born to James and Sarah Heaney.[6] Patrick was a farmer, but his real commitment was to cattle-dealing, to which he was introduced by the uncles who had cared for him after the early death of his own parents.[7]

Heaney’s mother, Margaret Kathleen McCann, came from the McCann family,[1] whose uncles and relations were employed in the local linen mill, and whose aunt had worked as a maid for the mill owner’s family. The poet has commented on the fact that his parentage thus contains both the Ireland of the cattle-herding Gaelic past and the Ulster of the Industrial Revolution; he considers this to have been a significant tension in his background. Heaney initially attended Anahorish Primary School, and when he was twelve years-old, he won a scholarship to St. Columb’s College, a Roman Catholic boarding school situated in Derry. Heaney’s brother, Christopher, was killed in a road accident at the age of four, while Heaney was studying at St. Columb’s. The poems “Mid-Term Break” and “The Blackbird of Glanmore” focus on his brother’s death



Between my finger and my thumb

The squat pen rests; snug as a gun.


Under my window, a clean rasping sound

When the spade sinks into gravelly ground:

My father, digging. I look down


Till his straining rump among the flowerbeds

Bends low, comes up twenty years away

Stooping in rhythm through potato drills

Where he was digging.


The coarse boot nestled on the lug, the shaft

Against the inside knee was levered firmly.

He rooted out tall tops, buried the bright edge deep

To scatter new potatoes that we picked,

Loving their cool hardness in our hands.


By God, the old man could handle a spade.

Just like his old man.


My grandfather cut more turf in a day

Than any other man on Toner’s bog.

Once I carried him milk in a bottle

Corked sloppily with paper. He straightened up

To drink it, then fell to right away

Nicking and slicing neatly, heaving sods

Over his shoulder, going down and down

For the good turf. Digging.


The cold smell of potato mould, the squelch and slap

Of soggy peat, the curt cuts of an edge

Through living roots awaken in my head.

But I’ve no spade to follow men like them.


Between my finger and my thumb

The squat pen rests.

I’ll dig with it.


British Indian

Salman Rushdie

b. 1947

The most influential novelist to have come from South Asia in the last fifty years is Ahmed Salman Rushie, who dynamic narratives—stories of magic, suffering, and the vitality of human beings in the grip of history—have helped generate the literary renaissance flowering in India today. “I come from Bombay,” Rushdie has said, “and from a Muslim family, too. ‘My’ India has always been based on ideas of multiplicity, pluralism, hybridity: ideas to which the ideologies of the communalists are diametrically opposed.  To my mind, the defining image of India is the crowd, and a crowd is by its very nature superabundant, heterogeneous, many things at once.” Rushdie was educated at Cathedral School, Bombay (now Mumbai), and from the age of thirteen, at Rugby School, Warwichshire, and King’s Collge, Cambirdge. After living briefly in Pakistan, where his prosperous family had moved, Rushdie eventually settled in England, working as an actor and as a freelance advertising copywriter.

A British Indian novelist and essayist. His second novel, Midnight’s Children (1981), won the Booker Prize in 1981. Much of his fiction is set on the Indian subcontinent. He is said to combine magical realism with historical fiction; his work is concerned with the many connections, disruptions and migrations between East and West.

His fourth novel, The Satanic Verses (1988), was the centre of a major controversy, provoking protests from Muslims in several countries, some violent. Death threats were made against him, including a fatwā issued by Ayatollah Ruhollah Khomeini, the Supreme Leader of Iran, on 14 February 1989.

Rushdie was appointed Commandeur de l’Ordre des Arts et des Lettres of France in January 1999.[4] In June 2007, Queen Elizabeth II knighted him for his services to literature.[5] In 2008, The Times ranked him thirteenth on its list of the fifty greatest British writers since 1945.[6]

Since 2000, Rushdie has lived in the United States, where he has worked at Emory University and was elected to the American Academy of Arts and Letters. His most recent book is Joseph Anton: A Memoir, an account of his life in the wake of the controversy over The Satanic Verses.

(I could not find a link for the story The Prophet’s Hair but I will instead provide a link of a student’s paper about the story.)


Poco: PT3

Nation and Language from the Norton Anthology

Armies and navies, cannons and guns helped spread and consolidate British rule across cast areas of the earth’s surface, but so too did the English language. Over many years, in many different parts of the world, the language of the British Empire displaced or commingled with indigenous languages. Then the twentieth century witnessed the decolonization and devolution of the British Empire, from early-century Ireland to mid-century India and Africa and the Caribbean to late-century Hong Kong. Imaginative writers from these and other regions have thus had to wrestle with questions of nation and language. Should they write stories, plays, and poems in the their indigenous languages? Is English an enabling tool by which peoples of different nationalities can express their identities  or is it contaminated by a colonial history and mentality that it insidiously perpetuates? If English is chosen for imaginative writing, should it be a standardized English of the imperical center or an English inflected by contact with indigenous languages–a creole, patois, pidgin, even a synthetic composite of a local vernacular and Standard English? Since American power has sustained the global reach of English long after the withdrawal of British colonial administrators and armies, debates over such questions have persisted in many parts of the world where English still thrives in the aftermath of a dead empire.


Having tried to subdue the Irish people for centuries, the British outlawed the use of the Irish language (or Gaelic) in Ireland, and Brian Friel explores the painful effects of the forcible displacement of Irish in his important historical play, Translations. Because of Ireland’s long and bloody colonial history and the flowering there of cultural nationalism, early-twentieth-century Irish writers were already expressing a powerful ambivalence toward English as both a vital literary inheritance and the language of colonial subjugation. Recalling the sixteenth and seventeenth-century English “wars of extermination” against the Irish, W. B. Yeats acknowledges a historical hatred of the English but then reminds himself that, as an English-language writer, “I owe my soul to Shakespeare, to Spenser and to Blake, perhaps to William Morris, and to the English language in which I think, speak and write, that everything i love has come to me through English; my hated tortures me with love, my love with hate” (see his “Introduction”) In the novel A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man, James Joyce’s autobiographical persona, Stephen Dedalus, reflects on his conversation with an academic dean, an Englishman: “The language in which we are speaking is his before it is mine…. I cannot speak or write these [English] words without unrest of spirit. His language, so familiar and so foreign, will always be for me an acquired speech. I have not made or accepted its words. My voice holds them at bay. My soul frets in the shadow of his language.” Yet Yeats and Joyce, despite this vexed relation to the language, wrote some of the most innovative English-Language poetry and fiction of the twentieth century. Indeed, their conflicted relation to the English language and its literary inheritance–that “unrest of spirit” in its shadow==may paradoxically have impelled their massive literary achievements.


Transplanted in different parts of the world, English has sometimes seemed strange and estranging  When African and Caribbean schoolchildren with British colonial educations tried to write poems, as Kamau Brathwaite and other writers have attested, they would follow the conventions of English poetry, composing iambic pentameter verse about snowfall or daffodils, which they had never seen. English language and English literature thus risked alienating colonized peoples from their local environments and distinctive cultural histories.


The feeling that the English language is alienating, inextricably bound to colonialism, has led some nativist writers, such as the Kenyan novelist Ngugi was Thiong’o, to reject it outright. If language is a “collective memory bank,” then a people cannot recover its colonially suppressed identity and history without returning to an indigenous language. But the novelist Salman Rushdie, who often writes in an Indianized, or “churnified,” English, takes the opposite stand: “The English language ceased to be the sole possession of the English some time ago,” he asserts. English has become a local language even in parts of the world, such as India, where it was once imposed. Rushdie and other cosmopolitan writers reject the assumption that the English language has an inherent relationship to only one kind of national or ethnic experience. “The English langugae is nobody’s special property,” asserts the Carribean poet Derek Walcott.


For the colonial or postcolonial writer who embraces English. the question remains, Which English? The imported standard or a local vernacular? Or if both, should they be intermingled or kept apart? At one end of the spectrum are writers  such as V.C. Naipaul and Wole Soyinka, who think Standard English, perhaps slightly altered, can bespeak a post-colonial experience of race, identity, and history. At the other end are vernacular writers who feel the language of the center cannot do justice to do their experience at the margins empire. The poet Louise Vennet, for example, gives voice to everyday Jamaican experience in her witty and wily use of Jamaican Creole or Patois; she mocks its denigration as a “corruption of the English Language,” pointing out that Standard English is but an amalgam of dialects and foreign languages. “It was in language that the slave was perhaps most successfully imprisoned by his master,” Brathwaite has written, “and it was in his (mis-)use of it that he perhaps most effectively rebelled.”


Between the Standard English writer and the vernacular writer range a host of other possibilities. Some poets and novelists, such as the Jamaican-born Claude McKay and the Scottish nationalist Hugh MacDiarmid, spend a substantial part of their careers writing in one version of English and then shift dramatically to another. Others employ either Standard English or a local vernacular depending on the perspective they are presenting. Two of Caribbean-born writers Jean Rhy’s stories written during the same period offer two distinct points of view, one in the normative English of a white West Indian child, the other in the creolized (or hybridized) English of a mulatto immigrant in London. Finally, many writers, such as Walcott, Brathwaite, and the Yorkshire poet Tony Harrison, switch between standard and “dialect” within or across individual works, creating juxtapositions, tensions, and new relationships between languages that have traditionally been kept hierarchically discrete. They linguistically embody their interstitial experience of living in between metropolis and margin, canon and creole, schoolbooks and teh street.


Whether using slightly or heavily creolized English, or a medley of both, writers from across the world–Barbadians and Bombayites and “Black Britons”–have employed a diverse array of distinctive idioms  dialects,m creoles to defy imperial norms, express emerging cultural identities, and inaugurate rich new possibilities for literature in English.

Poco: PT2


Post-colonial literature (also Postcolonial literatureNew English Literature, and New English literatures) is a body of literary writing that responds to the intellectual discourse of European colonization of the Middle East, Asia, and Africa. Post-colonial literature addresses the problems and consequences of the de-colonization of a country and of a nation, especially the political and cultural independence of formerly subjugated colonial peoples; and it also is a literary critique of and about post-colonial literature, the undertones of which carry, communicate, and justify racialism and colonialism.[1] The contemporary forms of post-colonial literature present literary and intellectual critiques of the post-colonial discourse, by endeavouring to assimilate post-colonialism and its literary expressions.


Critical approach

Post-colonial literary criticism re-examines colonial literature, especially concentrating upon the social discourse, between the colonizer and the colonized, that shaped and produced the literature. In Orientalism (1978), Edward Saïd analyzed the fiction of Honoré de BalzacCharles Baudelaire, and Lautréamont (Isidore-Lucien Ducasse), and explored how they were influenced, and how they helped to shape the societal fantasy of European racial superiority. Post-colonial fiction writers deal with the traditional colonial discourse, either by modifying or by subverting it, or both.

An exemplar post-colonial novel is Wide Sargasso Sea (1966), by Jean Rhys, a predecessor story to Jane Eyre (1847), by Charlotte Brontë, a literary variety wherein a familiar story is re-told from the perspective of a subaltern protagonist, Antoinette Cosway, who, within the story and the plot, is a socially oppressed minor character who is renamed and variously exploited. As such, in post-colonial literature, the protagonist usually struggles with questions of Identity — social identitycultural identitynational identity, etc. — usually caused by experiencing the psychological conflicts inherent to cultural assimilation, to living between the old, native world and the dominant hegemony of the invasive social and cultural institutions of the colonial imperialism of a Mother Country.

The “anti-conquest narrative” recasts the natives (indigenous inhabitants) of colonized countries as victims rather than foes of the colonisers.[2] This depicts the colonised people in a more human light but risks absolving colonisers of responsibility for addressing the impacts of colonisation by assuming that native inhabitants were “doomed” to their fate.[2]

Perspectives on colonialism and Postcolonialism

Common perspectives on colonialism show colonialism usually works through the use of brutal force employed by one country to exploit another community and obtain economic wealth through abuse of native people.

The post-colonial perspective emerged as a challenge to this tradition and legacy; it attempts to illegitimize the idea of establishing power through conquest. A relatively new emerging academic concept in relation to postcolonial studies is the Stranger King concept.

Selim Al Deen from Bangladesh has also written postcolonial drama.

Critic’s point of view

What qualifies as postcolonial literature is debatable. The term postcolonial literature has taken on many meanings. The four subjects include:

  1. Social and cultural change or erosion:[4] It seems that after independence is achieved, one main question arises; what is the new cultural identity?
  2. Misuse of power and exploitation: Even though the large power ceases to control them as a colony, the settlers still seem to continue imposing power over the native.[4] The main question here is who really is in power, why, and how does an independence day really mean independence?
  3. Colonial abandonment and alienation: This topic is generally brought up to examine individuals and not the ex-colony as a whole.[4] The individuals tend to ask themselves; in this new country, where do I fit in and how do I make a living?
  4. Use of English language literature: It may be asked if the target of post-colonial studies, i.e. the analysis of post-colonial literature and culture, can be reached neglecting literary works in the original languages of post-colonial nations.

Post Colonialism PT.1

I’m just copy and pasting the info from wikipedia. Even so i’m not copying all the information. I’ll provide all the links if you want to find out more information. But hopefully you can use this blog as a means to see a wealth of information on one site. Later i’ll add authors and such using the Norton Anthology English Literature Volume F.




Post-colonialism is an academic discipline featuring methods of intellectual discourse that analyze, explain, and respond to the cultural legacies of colonialism and of imperialism. Drawing from post-modern schools of thought, Post-colonial Studies critique the politics of knowledge (creation, control, and distribution) by analyzing the functional relations of social and political power that sustain colonialism and neo-colonialism; the how and the why of an imperial régime’s representations (social, political, cultural) of the imperial colonizer and of the colonized people. As a genre of contemporary history, Post-colonialism questions and reinvents the modes of cultural perception — the ways of viewing and of being viewed. As anthropology, Post-colonialism records human relations among the colonial nations and the subaltern peoples exploited by colonial ruled.[1] As critical theory, Post-colonialism presents, explains, and illustrates the ideology and the praxis of Neo-colonialism, with examples drawn from the humanities —history and political sciencephilosophy and Marxist theorysociologyanthropology, and human geography; the cinema, religion, and theology; feminismlinguistics, and post-colonial literature, of which the Anti-conquest narrative genre presents the stories of colonial subjugation of the subaltern man and woman.

The financial and ideological gists of colonialism and of imperialism are presented in the nineteenth-century novella Heart of Darkness (1899), by Joseph Conrad, wherein the narrator Charles Marlow explains that:

The conquest of the earth, which mostly means the taking it away from those who have a different complexion or slightly flatter noses than ourselves, is not a pretty thing when you look into it too much. What redeems it is the idea only. An idea at the back of it, not a sentimental pretence, but an idea; and an unselfish belief in the idea — something you can set up, and bow down before, and offer a sacrifice to. “The Clash of Definitions”, by Edward Saïd

Such an idea was “the extension of Civilization”, which ideologically justified the self-ascribed superiority (racial and cultural) of the European Western World over the non-Western world, which Joseph-Ernest Renan espoused in La Réforme intellectuel et morale (1871), whereby imperial stewardship would effect the intellectual and moral reformation of the coloured peoples of the lesser cultures of the world. That such a divinely ordained, natural harmony among the human races of the world would be possible, because everyone — colonizer and colonized — had an assigned cultural identity, a social place, and an economic role within an imperial colony; thus:

The regeneration of the inferior or degenerate races, by the superior races is part of the providential order of things for humanity. . . . Regere imperio populosis our vocation. Pour forth this all-consuming activity onto countries, which, like China, are crying aloud for foreign conquest. Turn the adventurers who disturb European society into a ver sacrum, a horde like those of the Franks, the Lombards, or the Normans, and every man will be in his right role. Nature has made a race of workers, the Chinese race, who have wonderful manual dexterity, and almost no sense of honour; govern them with justice, levying from them, in return for the blessing of such a government, an ample allowance for the conquering race, and they will be satisfied; a race of tillers of the soil, the Negro; treat him with kindness and humanity, and all will be as it should; a race of masters and soldiers, the European race. . . . Let each do what he is made for, and all will be well. Discourse on Colonialism, by Aimé Césaire

From the mid- to the late-nineteenth century, such racialist group-identity language was the cultural common-currency justifying geopolitical competition, among the European and American empires, meant to protect their over-extended economies. Especially in the colonisation of the Far East and in the Scramble for Africa (1870–1914), the representation of a homogeneous European identity justified colonisation — the subjugation of coloured people, the plundering of their labour, and the despoliation of the natural resources of their countries. Hence, Belgium and Britain, and France and Germany proffered theories of national superiority that justified colonialism as delivering the light of civilisation to benighted lands. Notably, La mission civilisatrice, the self-ascribed civilising mission of the French Empire, proposed that some races and cultures have a higher purpose in life, whereby the more powerful, more developed, and more civilised races have the right to colonise other peoples, in service to the noble idea of “civilisation” and its economic benefits.

As epistemologyethics, and politics Post-colonialism address the politics of knowledge, the matters that constitute the post-colonial identity of a decolonised people: the coloniser’s generation of cultural knowledge about the subaltern people; and how that knowledge was applied to subjugate a people into a profitable colony of the Mother Country, by means of the cultural identities of “coloniser” and “colonised”.

  • Post-colonial identity

A decolonised people develop a post-colonial identity from the cultural interactions among the types of identity (culturalnationalethnic) and the social relations of sex, class, and caste; determined by the gendre and the race of the colonised person; and the racism inherent to the structures of a colonial society. In Post-colonial literature, the Anti-conquest narrative analyses the Identity politics that are the social and cultural perspectives of the subaltern colonial subjects — their creative resistance to the culture of the coloniser; how such cultural resistance complicated the establishment of a colonial society; how the colonisers developed their post-colonial identity; and how Neo-colonialism actively employs the Us-and-Them binary social relation to view the non-Western world as inhabited by The Other. The neo-colonial discourse of geopolitical homogeneity conflates the decolonised peoples, their cultures, and their countries, into an imaginary place, such as “The Third World”, an over-inclusive term that usually comprises continents and seas, i.e. Africa, Asia, Latin America, and Oceania. The post-colonial critique analyses the self-justifying discourse of neo-colonialism and the functions (philosophic and political) of its over-inclusive terms, to establish the factual and cultural inaccuracy of homogeneous concepts, such as “The Arabs” and “The First World”, “Christendom” and “The Islamic World”, actually comprise heterogeneous peoples, cultures, and geography, and that realistic descriptions of non-Western peoples, places, and things require nuanced and accurate terms.[7]

  • Generated Western knowledge

What West Europeans knew about the peoples of the non-Western world — the homogeneous cultural conceptions of “The Orient”, “The Islamic World”, “The Dark Continent” — originated under specific socio-economic relations between the European coloniser and the colonised non-European Other. The binary social relationship of subject-and-object, of the powerful Occident and the powerless Orient, was conceived, determined, and established with Orientalism, the Western interpretations and representations of non-Western peoples, places, and things.

  • Applied Western knowledge

Using Orientalist “knowledge” (ethnographic, sociologic, anthropologic, et cetera) about the people to be colonised, the colonisers subjugated the natives into a colony in service to the economic interests of their empires. As such, post-colonialism analyses and represents the social relations among the post-colonial world, between “the heart and the margins” of colonialism (the imperial centre and the colonial periphery) to show how “relations, practices, and representations” of the past are either reproduced or transformed, or both, by how knowledge of the world is generated, controlled, and distributed.[


The critical purpose of post-colonial studies is to account for, and to combat, the residual effects (social, political, and cultural) of colonialism upon the peoples ruled and exploited by the Mother Country.[11] To that end, post-colonial theoreticians establish social and cultural spaces for the non-Western peoples — especially thesubaltern peoples — whose cultures were silenced by the Western value systems promoted and established as the dominant ideology of the colonial enterprise. The critical perspectives and analyses presented in the book Orientalism (1978), by Edward Saïd, indicated that in dealing with non-Western peoples European scholars applied the concept of “The Orient” to them and so disregarded the existing native ways of life (social, intellectual, and cultural) of the Asian, Middle Eastern, and Muslim peoples. That, in their stead, Orientalist academics substituted their European interpretations and representations of what is and what is not “Oriental”, and of who is and who is not “an Oriental”. That Orientalism supported the self-ascribed cultural superiority of The West, and so allowed Europeans to name, describe, and define, and thereby control, non-European peoples, places, and things. To that end, post-colonialism critically destabilizes the dominant ideologies of The West, by challenging the “inherent assumptions . . . [and the] material and discursive legacies of colonialism”, by working with tangible social factors such as:

  • Anthropology, by means of which Western intellectuals generated knowledge about non-Western peoples, which colonial institutions then used to subjugate them into a colony to serve the economic, social, and cultural interests of the imperial power.
  • Colonialist literature, wherein the writers ideologically justified imperialism and colonialism with cultural representations (literary and pictorial) of the colonised country and its people, as perpetually inferior, which the imperial steward must organise into a colonial society to be guided towards European modernity.
  • Post-colonial literature, wherein writers articulate and celebrate the post-colonial identity of the decolonised, native society (an identity often reclaimed from the coloniser) whilst maintaining the independent nation’s pragmatic connections (economic and social, linguistic and cultural) with the Mother Country.
  • Native cultural-identity in a colonised society, and the dilemmas inherent to developing a post-colonial national identity after the de-colonisation of the country, whilst avoiding the counter-productive extremes of nationalism.[8]

In the definition and establishment of a post-colonial identity, the literature of the Anti-conquest narrative genre is the praxis of “indigenous decolonisation”, whereby writers explain, analyse, and transcend the personal and societal experiences of imperial subjugation, of having endured the imposed identity of “a colonial subject”. By means of their post-colonial literature, the subaltern peoples reply to the Mother Country’s misrepresentation of their humanity. Using the native varieties of the colonial languages, the Anti-conquest narrative addresses the Mother Country’s cultural hegemony; by “writing back to the centre” of the empire, the natives create their own national histories in service to forming and establishing a national identity after decolonisation


Post-colonial nations

As a critical literary theory, post-colonialism deals with the literatures produced in countries that once were colonies of the European imperial powers, such as Britain,France, and Spain; and of the decolonised countries engaged in contemporary colonial arrangements with the mother countries, such as the Francophonieand theBritish Commonwealth.[29] .[30] Post-colonial literary study comprises the literatures written by the coloniser and the colonised, wherein the subject matter includes portraits of the colonised peoples and their lives as imperial subjects. In Dutch literature, the Indies Literature includes the colonial and post-colonial genres, which examine and analyse is the formation of a post-colonial identity, and the post-colonial culture produced by the diaspora of the Indo-European peoples, the Eurasian folk who originated from Indonesia; the peoples comprised by the colony that was the Dutch East Indies; the notable author was Tjalie Robinson.[31] To perpetuate and facilitate control of the colonial enterprise, some colonised people, especially from among the subaltern peoples of the British Empire, were sent to attend university in the Imperial Motherland; they were to become the native-born, but Europeanised, ruling class of colonial satraps. Yet, after decolonisation, their bicultural educations originated post-colonial criticism of empire and colonialism, and of the representations of the colonist and the colonised. In the late twentieth century, after the dissolution of the USSR (1991), the constituent soviet socialist republics became the literary subjects of post-colonial criticim, wherein the writers dealt with the legacies (cultural, social, economic) of Russification of their peoples, countries, and cultures.[32]

Post-colonial literary study presents two analytic categories of literature: (i) that of the post-colonial nations, and (ii) that of the nations who continue forging a post-colonial national identity. The first category of literature presents and analyses the internal challenges inherent to determining an ethnic identity in a decolonised nation. The second category of literature presents and analyses the degeneration of civic and nationalist unities consequent to ethnic parochialism, usually manifested as the demagoguery of “protecting the nation”, a variant of the Us-and-Them binary social relation. Civic and national unity degenerate when a patriarchal régime unilaterally defines what is and what is not “the national culture” of the decolonised country; the nation-state collapses, either into communal movements, espousing grand political goals for the post-colonial nation; or into ethnically mixed communal movements, espousing political separatism, as occurred in decolonised Rwanda, Somalia, the Sudan, and the Democratic Republic of the Congo; thus the post-colonial extremes against which Frantz Fanon warned in The Wretched of the Earth.


The page goes on to talk about the nations in specifics, notable theoreticians, and critical works.


Images, images everywhere.

My paper is filled with them. I figure it’s easy enough to cite them at the end by page and panel.

But i’m also thinking about using foot notes for my paper. I don’t really recall seeing footnotes being used in MLA papers. I’ve seen them in Chicago. So i’ll have to look up the correct way to use foot notes on MLA.

So mostly i’m interested in footnotes in my paper. And how to do them.

There’s a few smaller issues. Like I should probably add the translator for Lone Wolf and Cub and such.

Also there’s a part in my paper. Which i’m using the prepared images from Reinventing Comics by Mccloud but he took the original image from another book Drawing the Marvel Way but formatted it by taking out panels and making it overall smaller. Do I need to cite both books?

I’m using a pdf file of Road to Perdition comic for my images in my paper. By cropping and adjusting the size of the images. But it’s a different edition from my book. My books and the pdf version images are on different pages. Should I just cite my book?

Outline for My Paper

I would post up the process of how my paper has changed so far. But i don’t know how to get all the pictures on here. So i’ll leave my outline at least.

Outline for Robert I. Lee’s: Paper
Introduction: Comics and Myself and the state of American comics
Thesis:The Collins/Raynor comic Road to Perdition is the amazingly successful graphic novel it is because the authors have skillfully adapted for American audiences, not merely the story but also the narrative discourse, the way of telling the story, of that highly original masterpiece of Japanese manga, Lone Wolf and Cub.

1. Introduction to Manga

2. Introduction to Lone Wolf and Cub and brief description of its plot

The manga techniques that are used to tell the plot

  • Genre Maturity and the ways it’s used to tell the story
  • The Art style(Ancient Japanese line art)
  • Historical accuracy
  • Subjective Motion and Dizzying P.O.V
  • Aspect – to – aspect panels and wordless panels

3. Introduction to Road to Perdition and brief description of its plot

The various American techniques as well as the adapted manga techniques used

  • Genre Maturity and the ways it’s used to tell the story
  • The art style(Leyendecker)
  • Historical accuracy
  • Michael Sr. as an external character
  • The use of Dizzying P. O. V to display external action
  • Composition of the Art in the traditional dynamic house style of marvel
  • Michael Jr. as an internal character and the different shoujo(girl manga) techniques used to display his scenes
  • Innovations of Road to Perdition own techniques

4. Conclusion

  • Summary of my paper
  • What else American comics can learn from Road to Perdition to adapt in their own stories
  • The end


This ended up looking more like a checklist.

Finales Prospectus 2

“Manga just needs to be interesting. If it’s interesting, it will get serialized”. –Hisashi Sasaki(Editor in Chief of Shonen Jump in the manga Bakuman)

What’s the first thing that comes to mind when I says comic books? Super heroes’, right? I bet you can name at least five super heroes who are from comic books. But can you name me one comic book that isn’t about super heroes?

The topic of my paper is on one such comic book called “Road to Perdition”. Written by Max Allan Collins and drawn by Richard Piers Rayner. It’s a minority in the sea of super hero comic books in America. But it is interesting.

“Road to Perdition” is a transposition from a manga called “Lone Wolf and Cub”. It was written by Kazuo Koike and drawn by Goseki Kojima. So what is manga? And does this mean anything to “Road to Perdition”?

My Topic: Is on the influence of manga in Road to Perdition.
My Question: Is how the transposition of the story makes Road to Perdition a combination of both American comics and Japanese manga.
Significance: While super hero comics are still the majority of American comic books. There are a lot of new comers shaking things up. Road to Perdition is but one example that displays both styles.

For my texts I will be using the early volumes of the manga Lone Wolf and Cub as well as the graphic novel Road to Perdition. I will be using Scott Mccould’s “Understanding Comics” to talk about what makes a comic and the main differences between the two mediums. As well as Mr. Mccloud’s other two books on comics. His book “Reinventing Comics” talks about certain revolutions that need to occur in the comic industry. Some of the points he made are well on the way. I will also use his book “Making Comics” to be able to analyze the panels between the two comics.

I’m excited about this paper because I love manga and American comics. It’s an interesting time right now. Comic book writers/artist is familiar with both American comics and manga. So there are lots of new comics which are a fusion of the two. Road to Perdition is but a small step towards the idea of an American comic. That it’s not only about super heroes. That the only things that matters is if it’s interesting.

(Added a section of the texts I will be using as of right now)


How to read Intensity in comics

Scout Mccloud writes about the visual techniques which add contrast, dynamism, graphic excitement or a sense of urgency to a panel. In other words INTENSITY.

Extreme Depth Cues – The sense of great distances, extreme closeness and the contrast between them.

Wild variations of Frame size and shape.

Graphic contrast – Bold juxtapositions of color, shape and brightness

Exaggerated Poses and expressions!!

Virtuoso drawing technique.

Breaking the fourth wall. – Borderless an dborder-breaking characters and objects.

Diagonals –  tilted subjects,angles…
(From his book Making Comics pgs 45-46)
But it’s a balancing act between clarity and intensity. If a comic was all intensity it would disorientating. While a comic with no intensity would be just a bore to read.

I’m going to be using the manga Angel Densetsu for an example. Angel densetsu is a shounen manga about  about Seiichirou Kitano, a kind and naive boy with the heart of an angel, but the sinister looks of a devil. This paired with his horrible luck and awkward social skills causes many misunderstandings, leading people to assume that he is a delinquent or heroin addict, and results in a career as the head thug, or “school guardian” at his new school.

The following pages is midway into the manga where the main heroine Koiso Ryoko is sick. Her best friend invites Kitano who to go with her to visit her at her home. Which happens to also be a dojo. On the way all their weird but friendly delinquent friends join as well. This is the first time her father a martial arts instructor is meeting her friends. Remember to read right to left.

Here were looking from the over the shoulder perspective of Heizo Ryoko’s father.
We can see all of the familiar delinquent characters were familiar with. But because were so familiar with them we forgot how they appear to those who don’t know them.
In the first panel you can’t tell what his reaction is or his thoughts. This panel lacks intensity.
The next panel displays intensity in the exaggeration of his facial expression. The next panel shows the slow closing the door with the continued look of shock on Heizo’s face.
We then return to panel of clarity and not of intensity.

In the next page we start again from the back of Heizo. It’s a panel that lacks intensity but because of that makes the next panel even more intense!
The second panel starts with a close up on the characters faces with exaggerated facial expressions as well the background is replaced with special effects.
We are then looking from the perspective of Heizo looking at his daughter Ryoko. It follows this sway of calm to INTENSE. Which creates an overall comedic effect.
You can see from the last 2 panels there little intensity the annoying face of Ryoko which we will see mirror’d by her father in the next page.

Overall this page there’s a lack of bold intensity. But we can clearly see the inner turmoil Heizo faces with his annoyed expression. There’s a certain building of intensity in the air. But which gets diffused by Ryoko’s one seemingly normal friend Ikuko.

The page begins with Heizo’s face being relatively normal. While the panel shows some signs of intensity by the close up of Heizo’s face. The real intensity if from his thoughts. Which are showed here in a grey color then the normal black color of the speaking words.

Of course from the relatively normal friend of Ikuko. Heizo retains his calm demeanor. In fact he’s so surprised at the young girl that all he has to say is “Huh”

From these past two calm pages. All of a sudden were thrown into INTENSITY.  Poor Heizo he doesn’t realize that she Ikuno is actually a bit of a dangerous girl. You can easily see the intensity by the blurring effects to create a sense of speed. As well as the absence of he background but strong lines indicating motion.

From the relative calm we were thrown in to a very intense page. In this page you can see the intensity by the variation of the speech bubble.

Now this panel has a lack of intensity to them. The calm before the storm. Here enters are main character who hasn’t shown up yet. In fact the way he positions mirrors Heizo’s initial position on the first page.

The whole page is one giant panel. A close up to Kitano’s “devilish” face. The background of the dojo gone and now replaced with darkness. Here you can see the premise of the manga. A devil like appearance but his words and actions show his true character.

The next page is the exact same composition as the last. But a close up of the horror’d face of Heizo. This is the other half of the manga. The misunderstandings that happen due to Kitano’s rather extreme appearance.

This last page i present were back to the multi panel pages.

As you can see there are many techniques that artists can employ in comics to show intensity. But it is a balancing act. The balance between the calm and clarity panels and the intense panels create a story the reader will understand. In Angel Densetsu the use of calm and intense panels help create the comedic timing.

Older Posts »

Spam prevention powered by Akismet

Skip to toolbar