You must provide textual evidence and at least three specific examples. Be sure to explain how these examples work. ? Do they help to create a certain mood? ? Is the setting of any impo

In order to successfully complete Lesson 8, please do the following:

Readings

· Read Module 8: Lessons and Notes

· Read

· "A Very Old Man with Enormous Wings" by Gabriel Garcia Marquez  (textbook)

· Oedipus Rex/Oedipus the King by Sophocles  (textbook)

· "St. Lucy's Home for Girls Raised by Wolves" by Karen Russell  (textbook)

· Review/Reread

· "The Cask of Amontillado" by Edgar Allan Poe  (in your textbook)

· "Young Goodman Brown" by Nathaniel Hawthorne  (link hereLinks to an external site.)

· "The Tell-Tale Heart" by Edgar Allan Poe  (link hereLinks to an external site.)

Activities

· Complete discussion: "Supernatural and Strange"

· Complete assignment: "Annotated Bibliography Practice"

Presentation: What is the Supernatural, or Strange, in Fiction?

What is the supernatural, or strange, in fiction?

Supernatural fiction is as old as storytelling itself. Beowulf is the oldest story written in the English language and the epic hero spends most of his time grappling with supernatural creatures. However, supernatural fiction didn't make its debut as its own sub-genre until the mid 18th century, when the idea of the novel was emerging. Monsters, gargoyles, dimly lit corridors, and bleak settings decorate the history of the literary supernatural. Frankenstein's monster, Dracula, and Baskerville's hounds are a few character examples that emerged during this time. 

Elements of Supernatural or strange fiction

· Can be heavy on the gothic elements

· "Gothic Literature" from the Encyclopedia of Gothic Literature, Second Edition, Links to an external site.  provides a great overview. 

· Include Horror

· This genre doesn't always have supernatural elements. Instead, the monsters in horror fiction, and often  gothic fiction too, are humans. 

· An example of this can be found in several of Edgar Allan Poe's short stories: "The Cask of Amontillado", "The Black Cat",  and "The Tell-Tale Heart" are a few, if you're interested.

· Fantasy (some) or mythical elements

· Sometimes elements of the supernatural can be used represent something humanity doesn't understand like feast or famine. They could also represent some sort of struggle or social issue.

· Supernatural or strange elements can represent human fear or doubt.

The Supernatural in "Young Goodman Brown"

One of your readings from this module, " Young Goodman Brown" Links to an external https://gutenberg.org/files/512/512-h/512-h.htm#goodmansite. , embodies several elements of supernatural and strange fiction: 

·

· The presence of the Devil in "Young Goodman Brown" can represent Goodman Brown's own doubts and fears. 

· The entire story itself uses gothic elements to create the horrific mood of the story.

· The setting is in a dark forest.

· The protagonist is meeting with the devil on an old road in the black of night.

· There is spiritual strife and internal conflict.

· The final scene paints a gruesome picture of a congregation wearing dark cloaks, burning trees and bowls of blood. 

· There are spiritual symbols, like the name "Faith", and the pink ribbons (innocence or purity) that contrast the bleak and somber setting.

Discussion Board: Supernatural and Strange

Prompt

For this week's discussion board, choose one of the stories that we have read (other than Young Goodman Brown) that could be considered gothic fiction. Write a 300-400 word discussion board post in which you identify elements of gothic, horror, fantasy or mythical. 

You must provide textual evidence and at least three specific examples. Be sure to explain how these examples work.

· Do they help to create a certain mood?

· Is the setting of any importance?

· Are there important symbols?

· Does the author use literary devices like foreshadowing or flashback?

· Does the story contain certain words or phrases, like "gloomy", "shadows", or "bleak"? 

Guidelines

Your original multi-paragraph post should be written using academic language (though some use of first person may be appropriate) and be written clearly in complete sentences. Be sure to proofread carefully. 

Your 2 responses to classmates should be substantive responses to the meaning and ideas being discussed. You may ask questions or agree or disagree. Be sure to support your statements and to use our netiquette guidelines for respectful communication. Each response should be 2-3 sentences in length. 

No outside sources should be consulted for this assignment. You are welcome, though, to attach images or links to related items to help your classmates visualize or understand the story. (For example, if you were writing about Harry Potter, you could include an image of Hogwarts.)

Be sure you write in complete sentences.  Remember to stay school appropriate, and that all of your classmates can read your post. 

***DO NOT attach documents. Please post using the dialog boxes. Your post and replies should be visible without having to open any other documents.**

Your primary discussion post should be a cohesive 300-400-word entry. 

STORY FROM TEXTBOOK (The Norton Introduction to Literature (Shorter Thirteenth Edition) by Kelly J. Mays 2018).

The Cask of Amontillado by EDGAR ALLAN POE (1809–49)

page174 CH. 3 | naRRaTIon and PoInT oF vIeW

The thousand injuries of Fortunato I had borne as I best could, but when he ventured upon insult I vowed revenge. You, who so well know the nature of my soul, will not suppose, however, that I gave utterance to a threat. At length I would be avenged; this was a point definitively settled—but the very definitiveness with which it was resolved precluded the idea of risk. I must not only punish but punish with impunity. A wrong is unredressed when retribu-tion overtakes its redresser. It is equally unredressed when the avenger fails to make himself felt as such to him who has done the wrong. It must be understood that neither by word nor deed had I given Fortunato cause to doubt my good will. I continued, as was my wont, to smile in his face, and he did not perceive that my smile now was at the thought of his immolation. He had a weak point—this Fortunato—although in other regards he was a man to be respected and even feared. He prided himself upon his connoisseur-ship in wine. Few Italians have the true virtuoso spirit. For the most part their enthusiasm is adopted to suit the time and opportunity, to practice imposture upon the British and Austrian millionaires. In painting and gemmary, Fortu-nato, like his countrymen, was a quack, but in the matter of old wines he was sincere. In this respect I did not differ from him materially;—I was skilful in the Italian vintages myself, and bought largely whenever I could. It was about dusk, one evening during the supreme madness of the carnival season, that I encountered my friend. He accosted me with excessive warmth, for he had been drinking much. The man wore motley. He had on a tight-fitting parti-striped dress,1and his head was surmounted by the conical cap and bells. 5 I was so pleased to see him that I should never have done wringing his hand. I said to him—“My dear Fortunato, you are luckily met. How remarkably well you are looking to-day. But I have received a pipe2 of what passes for Amon-tillado, and I have my doubts.”

“How?” said he. “Amontillado? A pipe? Impossible! And in the middle of the

carnival!” “I have my doubts,” I replied; “and I was silly enough to pay the full Amontil-lado price without consulting you in the matter. You were not to be found, and I was fearful of losing a bargain.”

“Amontillado!” “I have my doubts.”

10

“Amontillado!” “And I must satisfy them.”

“Amontillado!”

Page 175

“As you are engaged, I am on my way to Luchresi. If any one has a critical

turn it is he. He will tell me——” “Luchresi cannot tell Amontillado from Sherry.”

“And yet some fools will have it that his taste is a match for your own.” “Come, let us go.”

“Whither?” “To your vaults.”

“My friend, no; I will not impose upon your good nature. I perceive you have an engagement. Luchresi——” “I have no engagement;—come.”

“My friend, no. It is not the engagement, but the severe cold with which I perceive you are afflicted. The vaults are insufferably damp. They are encrusted with nitre.”3 “Let us go, nevertheless. The cold is merely nothing. Amontillado! You have

been imposed upon. And as for Luchresi, he cannot distinguish Sherry from Amontillado.” Thus speaking, Fortunato possessed himself of my arm; and putting on a mask of black silk and drawing a roquelaire4 closely about my person, I suffered him to hurry me to my palazzo. There were no attendants at home; they had absconded to make merry in honour of the time. I had told them that I should not return until the morning, and had given them explicit orders not to stir from the house. These orders were sufficient, I well knew, to insure their immediate disappearance, one and all, as soon as my back was turned. I took from their sconces two flambeaux,5

and giving one to Fortunato, bowed him through several suites of rooms to the archway that led into the vaults. I passed down a long and winding staircase, requesting him to be cau-tious as he followed. We came at length to the foot of the descent, and stood together upon the damp ground of the catacombs of the Montresors. The gait of my friend was unsteady, and the bells upon his cap jingled as he strode. “The pipe,” said he.

“It is farther on,” said I; “but observe the white web-work which gleams from

these cavern walls.” He turned towards me, and looked into my eyes with two filmy orbs that distilled the rheum of intoxication. “Nitre?” he asked, at length.

“Nitre,” I replied. “How long have you had that cough?” “Ugh! ugh! ugh!—ugh! ugh! ugh!—ugh! ugh! ugh!—ugh! ugh! ugh!—ugh!

ugh! ugh!” My poor friend found it impossible to reply for many minutes. “It is nothing,” he said, at last.

Page 176 CH. 3 |

35 “Come,” I said, with decision, “we will go back; your health is precious. You

are rich, respected, admired, beloved; you are happy, as once I was. You are a man to be missed. For me it is no matter. We will go back; you will be ill, and I cannot be responsible. Besides, there is Luchresi——”

die of a cough.”

“Enough,” he said; “the cough is a mere nothing; it will not kill me. I shall not “True—true,” I replied; “and, indeed, I had no intention of alarming you

unnecessarily—but you should use all proper caution. A draught of this Medoc6 will defend us from the damps.” Here I knocked off the neck of a bottle which I drew from a long row of its fellows that lay upon the mould.

40

“Drink,” I said, presenting him the wine. He raised it to his lips with a leer. He paused and nodded to me familiarly, while his bells jingled.

“I drink,” he said, “to the buried that repose around us.”

“And I to your long life.” He again took my arm, and we proceeded. “These vaults,” he said, “are extensive.”

“The Montresors,” I replied, “were a great and numerous family.” “I forget your arms.”

“A huge human foot d’or,7 in a field azure; the foot crushes a serpent rampant whose fangs are imbedded in the heel.”

“And the motto?” “Nemo me impune lacessit.”8

“Good!” he said. The wine sparkled in his eyes and the bells jingled. My own fancy grew warm with the Medoc. We had passed through long walls of piled skeletons, with casks and puncheons9 intermingling, into the inmost recesses of the cata-combs. I paused again, and this time I made bold to seize Fortunato by an arm above the elbow. “The nitre!” I said; “see, it increases. It hangs like moss upon the vaults. We are below the river’s bed. The drops of moisture trickle among the bones. Come, we will go back ere it is too late. Your cough——” “It is nothing,” he said; “let us go on. But first, another draught of the Medoc.” I broke and reached him a flaçon of De Grâve. He emptied it at a breath. His

eyes flashed with a fierce light. He laughed and threw the bottle upwards with a gesticulation I did not understand. I looked at him in surprise. He repeated the movement—a grotesque one. “You do not comprehend?” he said. “Not I,” I replied.

“Then you are not of the brotherhood.” “How?”

Page 177

“You are not of the masons.”1 “Yes, yes,” I said; “yes, yes.”

“You? Impossible! A mason?” “A mason,” I replied.

“A sign,” he said, “a sign.” “It is this,” I answered, producing from beneath the folds of my roquelaire a 65 trowel. “You jest,” he exclaimed, recoiling a few paces. “But let us proceed to the

Amontillado.” “Be it so,” I said, replacing the tool beneath the cloak and again offering him my arm. He leaned upon it heavily. We continued our route in search of the Amontillado. We passed through a range of low arches, descended, passed on, and descending again, arrived at a deep crypt, in which the foulness of the air caused our flambeaux rather to glow than flame. At the most remote end of the crypt there appeared another less spacious. Its

walls had been lined with human remains, piled to the vault overhead, in the fashion of the great catacombs of Paris. Three sides of this interior crypt were still ornamented in this manner. From the fourth side the bones had been thrown down, and lay promiscuously upon the earth, forming at one point a mound of some size. Within the wall thus exposed by the displacing of the bones, we perceived a still interior crypt or recess, in depth about four feet, in width three, in height six or seven. It seemed to have been constructed for no especial use within itself, but formed merely the interval between two of the colossal supports of the roof of the catacombs, and was backed by one of their circumscribing walls of solid granite. It was in vain that Fortunato, uplifting his dull torch, endeavoured to pry into the depth of the recess. Its termination the feeble light did not enable us to see. “Proceed,” I said; “herein is the Amontillado. As for Luchresi——” “He is an ignoramus,” interrupted my friend, as he stepped unsteadily for-ward, while I followed immediately at his heels. In an instant he had reached the extremity of the niche, and finding his progress arrested by the rock, stood stupidly bewildered. A moment more and I had fettered him to the granite. In its surface were two iron staples, distant from each other about two feet, hori-zontally. From one of these depended a short chain, from the other a padlock. Throwing the links about his waist, it was but the work of a few seconds to secure it. He was too much astounded to resist. Withdrawing the key I stepped back from the recess. “Pass your hand,” I said, “over the wall; you cannot help feeling the nitre.

Indeed, it is very damp. Once more let me implore you to return. No? Then I must positively leave you. But I will first render you all the little attentions in my power.”

“The Amontillado!” ejaculated my friend, not yet recovered from his

astonishment. “True,” I replied; “the Amontillado.”

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As I said these words I busied myself among the pile of bones of which I have

before spoken. Throwing them aside, I soon uncovered a quantity of building stone and mortar. With these materials and with the aid of my trowel, I began vigorously to wall up the entrance of the niche. I had scarcely laid the first tier of the masonry when I discovered that the

intoxication of Fortunato had in great measure worn off. The earliest indica-tion I had of this was a low moaning cry from the depth of the recess. It was not the cry of a drunken man. There was then a long and obstinate silence. I laid the second tier, and the third, and the fourth; and then I heard the furious vibration of the chain. The noise lasted for several minutes, during which, that I might hearken to it with the more satisfaction, I ceased my labours and sat down upon the bones. When at last the clanking subsided, I resumed the trowel, and finished without interruption the fifth, the sixth, and the seventh tier. The wall was now nearly upon a level with my breast. I again paused, and holding the flambeaux over the mason-work, threw a few feeble rays upon the figure within. A succession of loud and shrill screams, bursting suddenly from the throat of

the chained form, seemed to thrust me violently back. For a brief moment I hesitated, I trembled. Unsheathing my rapier, I began to grope with it about the recess; but the thought of an instant reassured me. I placed my hand upon the solid fabric of the catacombs and felt satisfied. I reapproached the wall. I replied to the yells of him who clamoured. I re-echoed, I aided, I surpassed them in volume and in strength. I did this, and the clamourer grew still. It was now midnight, and my task was drawing to a close. I had completedthe eighth, the ninth and the tenth tier. I had finished a portion of the last and the eleventh; there remained but a single stone to be fitted and plastered in. I struggled with its weight; I placed it partially in its destined position. But now there came from out the niche a low laugh that erected the hairs upon my head. It was succeeded by a sad voice, which I had difficulty in recognizing as that of

the noble Fortunato. The voice said—“Ha! ha! ha!—he! he! he!—a very good joke, indeed—an excellent jest. We

will have many a rich laugh about it at the palazzo—he! he! he!—over our 80

wine—he! he! he!” “The Amontillado!” I said. “He! he! he!—he! he! he!—yes, the Amontillado. But is it not getting late?

Will not they be awaiting us at the palazzo—the Lady Fortunato and the rest? Let us be gone.”

“Yes,” I said, “let us be gone.” “For the love of God, Montresor!”

85

“Yes,” I said, “for the love of God!” But to these words I hearkened in vain for a reply. I grew impatient. I called aloud—“Fortunato!”

No answer. I called again—“Fortunato!” No answer still. I thrust a torch through the remaining aperture and let it fall within. There came forth in return only a jingling of the bells. My heart grew sick; it was the dampness of the catacombs that made it so. I hastened to make

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an end of my labour. I forced the last stone into its position; I plastered it up. Against the new masonry I re-erected the old rampart of bones. For the half of a century no mortal has disturbed them. In pace requiescat! 2

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