Jane Austen PowerPoint

Multiple Choice Practice Questions

Duffy's Queen Kong in Comparison to Austen's Emma

Sometimes, a woman will do anything for love. Make sacrifices to be with her lover, travel far to see him, and in some peculiar cases, wear his corpse around her neck in order to be close to him even in death. In Carol Ann Duffy’s Queen Kong, the narrator of the piece exhibits the power of loneliness, and what it can do to someone’s sanity. This parallels Jane Austen’s Emma regarding the urgency in both poem and novel for women to wed and be with a man, versus living a life of independence, which to them means solitude and loneliness. Queen Kong depicts the story of King Kong, only through the perspective of a female gorilla that falls in love with one of the men that is exploring her natural habitat. For her, “it was absolutely love at first sight” (Duffy). The Queen had been all alone for much too long, and she desperately craved the affection of a man. When her lover leaves her to go back to New York City, she becomes even more obsessed with the idea of a man and marriage, and goes to insane measures to feel close to him such as “[drinking]/ handfuls of river right by the spot where he’d bathed” (Duffy). In the end, the Queen gives up the chance to live a life of independence and follows him to New York, tracking him down and staying with him until the day he dies. Even after his death, she holds onto him by “wear[ing] him now around [her] neck,/perfect, preserved, with tiny emeralds for eyes. No man/has been loved more” (Duffy). The rash way that Queen Kong behaves is very similar to the women of Jane Austen’ s Emma. Emma and the women she surrounds herself with are after one thing in life; to escape loneliness and be wed to a man that will protect them and keep them company. The only thing that they are taught from a very young age is that they must marry, specifically into a high class family of either similar or better rank than their own families. They know no other life than the one where they are wed into another family, and have a man by their side constantly. The very thought of ending up an old maid leads them to desperately seek a husband, looking for a groom before they look for love, and tricking themselves into falling for the first high class, worthy suitor that comes their way. Similar to the ladies of the novel, the Queen is distraught at the idea of being without a man in her life, and when he leaves she “thumped at [her] breast, distraught I lasted a month. I slept for a week, then woke to binge for a fortnight” (Duffy). Queen Kong cannot picture her life without a man, who she sees as ever powerful and superior. The women in Emma act in a similar, yet more civilized way about the matter. They crave the stability of a man in their lives, and they do not seem to dream or desire of anything more than being settled down into a marriage and starting a family. This complete lack of thought about an independent lifestyle is similar to the way Queen Kong sees living without her lover, stating that “[she] had been so lonely” and that “no man has been loved more” regarding her affection and devotion to him (Duffy). Although Emma herself does not seem to want to marry at the beginning of the novel, it all changes as the novel unravels. The fact that the singular woman who seemed as if she could make it on her own without a husband eventually crumbles to what society wants of her says something for the values of the women and society during the beginning of the 20th century.

Analyzing Duffy's Queen Kong

In “Queen Kong” by Carol Ann Duffy, the role of King Kong is replaced by a woman narrator, who falls for one of the men that is exploring her native habitat. The poem is heavily sexualized as she comes to realize very quickly on that “it was absolutely love at first sight” (Duffy). She goes on to praise her lover, claiming that not only was he gorgeous but that she “swore in [her] huge heart to follow him then to the ends of the Earth” (Duffy). Queen Kong becomes obsessed with the thought of the man, “[drinking] handfuls of river right by the spot where he’d bathed” when he is no longer on the island (Duffy). The narrator of the poem is bent on being with her lover, so she decides to go searching for him when he leaves her, and winds up in New York City. At the very end of the poem, the lover dies, and Queen Kong wears him around her as a necklace, claiming that “in his silent Death, against [her] massive breathing lungs, he hears [her] roar” (Duffy). Queen Kong acts more drastically, yet eerily similar to the women in Jane Austen’s Emma. Similar to the ladies of the novel, the Queen is distraught at the idea of being without a man in her life, and when he leaves she “thumped at [her] breast, distraught I lasted a month. I slept for a week, then woke to binge for a fortnight” (Duffy). Queen Kong cannot picture her life without a man, who she sees as ever powerful and superior. The women in Emma act in a similar, yet more civilized way about the matter. They crave the stability of a man in their lives, and they do not seem to dream or desire of anything more than being settled down into a marriage and starting a family. This complete lack of thought about an independent lifestyle is similar to the way Queen Kong sees living without her lover, stating that “[she] had been so lonely” and that “no man has been loved more” regarding her affection and devotion to him (Duffy).

Queen Kong--Carol Ann Duffy

I remember peeping in at his skyscraper room And seeing him fast asleep. My little man. I’d been in Manhattan a week, Making my plans; staying at two quiet hotels In the Village, where people were used to strangers And more or less left you alone. To this day I’m especially fond of pastrami on rye I digress. As you see, this island’s a paradise. He’d arrived, my man, with the documentary team To make a film (there’s a particular toad That lays its eggs only here.) I found him alone In a clearing, scooped him up in my palm, And held his wriggling coma, shouting life till he calmed. For me, it was absolutely love at first sight. I’d been so lonely. Long nights in the heat Of my own pelt, rumbling an animals blues. Alright, he was small, but perfectly formed And gorgeous, there were things he could do For me with the sweet finesse of those hands That no gorilla could. I swore in my huge heart To follow him then to the ends of the earth For he wouldn’t stay here. He was nervous. I’d go to his camp each night at dusk, Crouched by the delicate tents, and wait. His colleagues Always sent him out pretty quick. He’d climb Into my open hand, sit down; and then I’d gently pick At his shirt and his trews, peel him, put The tip of my tongue to the grape of his flesh. Bliss. But when he’d finished his prize-winning film, He packed his case; hopped up and down On my heart line miming the flight back home To New York. Big metal bird. Didn’t he know I could swat his plane from the skies like a gnat? But I let him go, my man. I watched him fly Into the sun as I thumped at my breast, distraught I lasted a month. I slept for a week, Then woke to binge for a fortnight. I didn’t wash The parrots clapped their migrane chant. The swinging monkeys whinged. Fevered, I drank Handfuls of river right by the spot where he’d bathed. I bled when a fat, red moon rolled on the jungle roof. And after that, I decided to get him back. So I came to sail up the Hudson one June night, With the New York line a concrete rainforest Of light; and felt, lovesick and vast, the first Glimmer of hope in weeks. I was discrete, prowled Those streets in darkness, pressing my passionate eye To a thousand windows, each with its modest peep-show Of boredom or pain, of drama, consolation, remorse. I found him, of course. At 3.am. on a Sunday Dreaming alone in his single bed; over his lovely head A blown up photograph of myself. I stared for a long time Till my big brown eyes grew moist; then I padded away Through central park, under the stars. He was mine. Next day, I shopped. Clothes for my man, mainly, But one or two treats for myself at Bloomingdales. I picked him, like a chocolate from the top layer Of a box, one Friday night, out of his room And let him dangle in the air between my finger And my thumb in a teasing, lovers way. Then we sat On the tip of the empire state building, saying farewell To the Brooklyn Bridge, to the winking yellow cabs, To the helicopters over the river, dragonflies. Twelve happy years. He slept in my fur, woke early To massage the heavy lids of my eyes. I liked that. He liked me to gently blow on him or scratch, With care, the length of his back with my nail. Then I’d ask him to play on the wooden pipes he’d made In our first year. He’d sit, cross-legged, near my ear For hours: his plaintive, lost tunes making me cry. When he died, I held him all night, shaking him Like a doll, licking his face, breast, soles of his feet, His little rod. But then, heart sore as I was, I set to work. He would be pleased. I wear him now about my neck, Perfect, preserved, with tiny emeralds for eyes. No man Has been loved more. I’m sure of that, sometimes, in his silent Death, Against my massive breathing lungs, he hears me roar.

Duffy's Eurydice in Comparison to Austen's Emma

Carol Ann Duffy takes a twist on an old classic in her poem Eurydice, showing the perspective of the myth through the eyes of Eurydice herself. Eurydice is fearless, honest, and independent; this is a stark contrast to the way the females act in Jane Austen’s Emma. While Duffy uses a carefully constructed dramatic monologue to show the power that one woman possesses, Austen uses her character Emma to portray women at the beginning of the 20th century for how she sees them; fake, suppressed, and desperately in need of a wealthy man to walk them down the aisle. Eurydice tells the tale of a young, dead woman, and the lengths that a certain god by the name Orpheus would go to in order to have her as his bride. The only problem with this “love story” is the fact that Eurydice wants nothing to do with Orpheus, and much rather stay put in the Underworld, even going as far as to say that the Underworld is “the one place you’d think a girl would be safe/ from the kind of a man/ who follows her round writing poems,/ hovers about while she reads them,/[and] calls her His Muse” (Duffy). Eurydice’s want for solitude shows how empowered she believes she can be without being somebody’s wife, regardless of whether or not the man that wants to wed her is a god and could give her all the material desires she could ever dream of. Eurydice’s view of happiness is much different than the women pictured in Austen’s Emma. The ladies in this novel are bent on finding a husband, snagging a higher social status, and letting the love hopefully follow after that. When Emma’s friend Harriet is asked to wed a man by the name Mr. Martin, Emma urges Harriet to refuse his offer, claiming that the Martin’s are “course” and “unpolished”, therefore not worth Harriet’s time (Austen 20). Emma’s whole goal is to match people together in order for them to be married, and her as well as the other women in the novel are impressed and delighted when a man of valuable societal status attempts to court them. While small gestures of courtship are something to be admired in Emma, Eurydice finds them to be frustrating and bothersome. Eurydice would rather stay in the Underworld than “follow him back to our life -/Eurydice, Orpheus’ wife -/ to be trapped in his images, metaphors, similes,/octaves and sextets, quatrains and couplets,/elegies, limericks, villanelles, histories, myths…” (Duffy). Eurydice does not desire to be doted on and followed around, being whispered to about sweet nothings. This would come as quite a surprise to the girls in Emma. Lastly, Emma and her friends are much different from Eurydice when it comes to their view of men of higher power as a whole. While Emma finds it tolerable to have miniscule squabbles with men of high society, she would never dream to go out of her way to insult them or pass cruel judgments on them. This is due to the fact that while Emma is by far the most outspoken of the women in Highbury, she pales in comparison to Eurydice’s belief of equality to men. Eurydice mocks Orpheus, claiming that “we've all, let's be honest,/ been bored half to death by a man/who fucks like he's writing a book./ And, given my time all over again,/ I know that I'd rather write for myself” (Duffy).

Analyzing Carol Ann Duffy's Eurydice

In Carol Ann Duffy’s “Eurydice”, a woman from the Underworld name Eurydice is chosen by a God, namely the God Orpheus, to be his prize, or bride. The interesting spin to this poem, however, is that Eurydice is very keen on staying in the Underworld, and “[she’d] rather be dead” than be known as Orpheus’ “dearest, beloved, dark lady, white goddess, etc. etc” (Duffy). In order to escape the fate of forever being known as this patriarchal God’s wife, Eurydice tricks Orpheus into turning around to look at her as they are ascending into the living world. This causes Orpheus to be given the opportunity to escape the bonds of marriage to a God, and return back to the Underworld where she is more comfortable than being in a strong, powerful man’s arms. This poem is more of a contrast to Jane Austen’s Emma than it is a comparison. Eurydice is tormented by the concept of devoting her future to a man that craves to be the dominant one, and mocks Orpheus for “strut[ing] his stuff” (Duffy). This opinion of marriage is very different from what the ladies in Emma believe. To them, marriage is the end all be all; the end goal and destination to a happy life. Therefore, it would probably come as quite a shock to Emma, Harriet, and the other women in the novel that Eurydice preferred to be “unavailable” and “out of this world” instead of being married off to a man that she barely knew (Duffy). Eurydice even goes as far as to make fun of men’s ways of courting a lady, saying that the Underworld was “the one place you’d think a girl would be safe from the kind of a man who follows her round writing poems hovers about while she reads them, [and] calls her his Muse” (Duffy). This is a very strange perspective compared to the women’s in Emma, who revel in small riddles and love letters sent from men of high status.

Analyzing Carol Ann Duffy's Eurydice

In Carol Ann Duffy’s “Eurydice”, a woman from the Underworld name Eurydice is chosen by a God, namely the God Orpheus, to be his prize, or bride. The interesting spin to this poem, however, is that Eurydice is very keen on staying in the Underworld, and “[she’d] rather be dead” than be known as Orpheus’ “dearest, beloved, dark lady, white goddess, etc. etc” (Duffy). In order to escape the fate of forever being known as this patriarchal God’s wife, Eurydice tricks Orpheus into turning around to look at her as they are ascending into the living world. This causes Orpheus to be given the opportunity to escape the bonds of marriage to a God, and return back to the Underworld where she is more comfortable than being in a strong, powerful man’s arms. This poem is more of a contrast to Jane Austen’s Emma than it is a comparison. Eurydice is tormented by the concept of devoting her future to a man that craves to be the dominant one, and mocks Orpheus for “strut[ing] his stuff” (Duffy). This opinion of marriage is very different from what the ladies in Emma believe. To them, marriage is the end all be all; the end goal and destination to a happy life. Therefore, it would probably come as quite a shock to Emma, Harriet, and the other women in the novel that Eurydice preferred to be “unavailable” and “out of this world” instead of being married off to a man that she barely knew (Duffy). Eurydice even goes as far as to make fun of men’s ways of courting a lady, saying that the Underworld was “the one place you’d think a girl would be safe from the kind of a man who follows her round writing poems hovers about while she reads them, [and] calls her his Muse” (Duffy). This is a very strange perspective compared to the women’s in Emma, who revel in small riddles and love letters sent from men of high status.

Eurydice--Carol Ann Duffy

Girls, I was dead and down in the Underworld, a shade, a shadow of my former self, nowhen. It was a place where language stopped, a black full-stop, a black hole where words had to come to an end And end they did there, last words, famous or not. It suited me down to the ground. So imagine me there, unavailable, out of this world, then picture my face in that place of Eternal Repose, in the one place you'd think a girl would be safe from the kind of a man who follows her round writing poems hovers about while she reads them, calls her his Muse, and once sulked for a night and a day because she remarked on his weakness for abstract noouns; just picture my face when I heard - Ye Gods - a familiar knock-knock-knock at Death's door. Him. Big O. Larger than life. With his lyre and a poem to read with me as the prize. Things were different back then. For the men, verse-wise, Big O, was the boy. Legendary. The blurb on the back of his books claimed that animals, aardvark to Zebra, flocked to his side when he sang, fish leapt from their waves at the sound of his voice, even the mute, sullen stones at his feet wept wee silver tears. Bollocks. Furthermore, we've all, let's be honest, been bored half to death by a man who fucks like he's writing a book. And, given my time all over again, I know that I'd rather write for myself than be dearest, beloved, dark lady, white goddess, etc. etc. In fact, girls, I'd rather be dead. But the Gods are like publishers - usually male - and what you doubtless know of my tale is the deal. Orpheus strutted his stuff. The bloodless ghosts were in tears. Sisyphus sat on his rock for the first time in years. Tantalus was permitted a couple of beers. The woman in question could scarcely believe her ears. Like it or not, I must follow him back to our life - Eurydice, Orpheus's wife - to be trapped in his images, metaphors, similes, octaves and sextets, quatrains and couplets, elegies, limericks,villanelles, histories, myths... He'd been told that he mustn't look back or turn round, but walk steadily upwards, myself right behind him, out of the Underworld into the upper air that for me was the past. He'd been warned that one look would lose me for ever and ever. So onwards we walked. Nobody talked. Girls, forget what you've read, it happened like this - I did everything in my power to make him look back. What did I have to do, I said, to make him see we were through? I was dead Deceased. I was Resting in Peace. Passe. Late. Past my sell-by date - and here I stretched out my hand and touched him once on the back of the neck - Please let my stay. But already the light had saddened from purple to grey. It was an uhill schlep from death to life and with every step I willed him to turn. I'd managed to filch the poem out of his cloak when inspiration finally struck. I stopped, thrilled. He was a yard in front. My voice shook when I spoke - Orpheus, your poem's a masterpiece. I'd love to hear it again. He was smiling modestly when he turned when he turned and he looked at me. What else? I noticed he hadn't shaved. I waved once and was gone. The dead are so talented. The living walk by the edge of a vast lake near the wise, drowned silence of the dead.

Passage Two Prose

In the world of high maintenance ladies at the beginning of the 20th century, conniving silently and judgmental attitudes are bound to arise. Not only were women being pressured into a certain role to society by the men that they associated themselves with, but they were pushing fellow ladies into those roles as well, all whilst judging others for complying. In Jane Austen’s Emma, the main character Emma fancies herself to be the epitome of an elite debutante, yet seems to find great trouble in accepting her fellow lady Jane Fairfax’s demure and unassuming personality. As Emma struggles to come to terms with Jane, the reader finds Emma mocking Jane for being so polite to the point that it is verging on fakery in Emma’s eyes. A passage from page 152 of Emma accurately depicts this struggle, as well as helping the reader to understand the role that the woman was forced into playing during this time period. This passage is key to the novel’s plot as well as one of the main themes in the novel. As far as the plot goes, this passage depicts Emma’s views of Jane, and how “tiresome” she finds her whole family to be (Austen). Emma does not think highly of Jane, nor does she respect her. The passage makes this out to be because of Jane’s reserved nature, which Emma seems to see as transparent and fake. Emma’s judgment of this personality type helps to explain one of the main themes of the novel. Austen is constantly poking at the way people, specifically women, act during the time period of Emma. Everyone feels that it is their duty to hide behind “a cloak of politeness”. The fake personality and unassuming nature is used in order to appear polite and worthy of marrying into a high class family. The women of Emma are set on being the perfect bride, and this perfect bride is made out to be quiet, reserved, and carry a grace that can only come from not speaking out. This oppression is made a mockery through Emma, who Austen carefully uses to expose the true nature of women during that time, in order for the reader to get a clearer picture of what women actually were like, and how they wanted to portray themselves to society.

Passage Two from Novel

Passage Two From Emma by Jane Austen (Page 152) “Jane had spent an evening at Hartfield with her grandmother and aunt, and every thing was relapsing much into its usual state. Former provocations re-appeared. The aunt was as tiresome as ever; more tiresome, because anxiety for her health was now added to admiration of her powers; and they had to listen to the description of exactly how little bread and butter she ate for breakfast, and how small a slice of mutton for dinner as well as to see exhibitions of new caps and new workbags for her mother and herself; and Jane’s offences rose again. They had music: Emma was obliged to play: and the thanks and praise which necessarily followed appeared to her an affection of candour, an air of great-ness, and meaning only to show off in higher style her own very superior performance. She was, besides, which was the worst of all, so cold, so cautious! There was no getting at her real opinion. Wrapt up in a cloak of politeness, she seemed determined to hazard nothing. She was disgustingly, was suspiciously reserved” (Austen 152). Analysis of Close Reading --Passage used covers entire page of 152 in Emma, however excerpt typed above is most key part of passage. This passage is key to the novel’s plot as well as one of the main themes in the novel. As far as the plot goes, this passage depicts Emma’s views of Jane, and how “tiresome” she find her whole family to be. Emma does not think highly of Jane, nor does she respect her. The passage makes this out to be because of Jane’s reserved nature, which Emma seems to see as transparent and fake. Emma’s judgment of this personality type helps to explain one of the main themes of the novel. Austen is constantly poking at the way people, specifically women, act during the time period of Emma. Every one feels that it is their duty to hide behind “a cloak of politeness”. The fake personality and unassuming nature is used in order to appear polite and worthy of marrying into a high class family. The women of Emma are set on being the perfect bride, and this perfect bride is made out to be quiet, reserved, and carry a grace that can only come from not speaking out. This oppression is made a mockery through Emma, who Austen carefully uses to expose the true nature of women during that time, in order for the reader to get a more clear picture of what women actually were like, and how they wanted to portray themselves to society.

Passage One Prose

For the elite of the early 1900’s, everything rides on whom you associate yourself with. Friendships, courtships, and even marriages ride on the single idea that one must better themselves and climb the social ladder to a higher position than one is already at. One does not simply marry for love, or even befriend someone because they genuinely have things in common, but rather to be accepted into society and climb through the ranks in order to achieve societal superiority. In Emma by Jane Austen, there are many passages that depict a scene of social climbing and marriage for class instead of love. Page 20 of Emma does a particularly good job at exposing courtship for reasons other than feeling the person is good natured, and exposes that what family a person comes from is of utmost importance in marriage for the young women of Highbury. This passage is a very key one, because it demonstrates both Emma’s views on society as well as her view on herself. Emma sees marriage as a way to define social status; this is why she is deeply perturbed at the idea of her friend Harriet being intertwined with the Martin family. Because the Martin family is not of high status, Emma feels that Mr. Martin has nothing to offer Harriet. In Emma’s world, love is much less important than what the man a woman is marrying has to offer her. This passage also shows Emma’s views of herself. She sees herself as a matchmaker of sorts; she thinks that she has both the ability and the right to intervene in someone else’s affairs if it means that she is helping them climb the social ladder. Emma almost takes Harriet on as her own personal project in this passage, talking of improving Harriet in order for her to be more marriage material for a man of high class and societal rank. Emma does not see this as intrusive or out of line, but rather feels that it’s her duty as a friend of Harriet’s. Although Emma’s views may be thought of as rude and elitist, her opinion of what marriage should be like and her decision to invade someone else’s courtship would not be uncommon during the time period in which she lived. Austen is displaying a moral character that was very common during the beginning of the 20th century. Many women would have viewed Mr. Martin as “coarse” and “unpolished” (Austen), despite the fact that he was a good natured man, simply because he rented space in a large barn to live, and did not have the societal rank that many women sought after during this time.

Passage One from Novel--Page 20 Passage

Passage One from Emma by Jane Austen (Page 20) “Those soft blue eyes, and all those natural graces, should not be wasted on the inferior society of Highbury, and its connections. The acquaintances she had already formed were unworthy of her. The friends from whom she had just parted, though a very good sort of people, must be doing her harm. They were a family of the name of Martin, whom Emma well knew by character, as renting a large farm of Mr. Knightly, and residing in the parish of Donwell.—very creditably, she believed: she knew Mr. Knightly thought highly of them; but they must be coarse and unpolished, and very unfit to be the intimates of a girl who wanted only a little more knowledge and elegance to be quite perfect. She would notice her; she would improve her; she would detach her from her bad acquaintance, and she would introduce her into good society; she would for her opinions and her manners. It would be an interesting and certainly a very kind of undertaking; highly becoming her own situation in life, her leisure, and powers” (Austen 20). Analysis of Passage --Passage used covers entire page of 20 in Emma, however excerpt typed above is most key part of passage. This passage is a very key one, because it demonstrates both Emma’s views on society as well as her view on herself. Emma sees marriage as a way to define social status; this is why she is deeply perturbed at the idea of her friend Harriet being intertwined with the Martin family. Because the Martin family is not of high status, Emma feels that Mr. Martin has nothing to offer Harriet. In Emma’s world, love is much less important than what the man a woman is marrying has to offer her. This passage also shows Emma’s views of herself. She sees herself as a matchmaker of sorts; she thinks that she has both the ability and the right to intervene in someone else’s affairs if it means that she is helping them climb the social ladder. Emma almost takes Harriet on as her own personal project in this passage, talking of improving Harriet in order for her to be more marriage material for a man of high class and societal rank. Emma does not see this as intrusive or out of line, but rather feels that it’s her duty as a friend of Harriet’s. Although Emma’s views may be thought of as rude and elitist, her opinion of what marriage should be like and her decision to invade someone else’s courtship would not be uncommon during the time period in which she lived. Austen is displaying a moral character that was very common during the beginning of the 20th century. Many women would have viewed Mr. Martin as “coarse” and “unpolished”, despite the fact that he was a good natured man, simply because he rented space in a large barn to live, and did not have the societal rank that many women sought after during this time.