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analysis of the story of an hour written by kate chopin

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analysis of the story of an hour written by kate chopin
Analysis of "The Story of An Hour" written by Kate Chopin. The story under study tells about young woman and her emotional experience connected with the fact of death of her husband. When she learnt about this, she busted into tears and went upstairs to stay along for some time. But then the strange and firstly unwilling feeling of absolute joy and freedom seized her. She understood that she loves this freedom much more then she used to love her husband. The story end suddenly and unexpectedly: she descended the stairs and saw her husband safe and sound staying at the doors. The sudden heart attack killed her. This third-person narration is involving and touching. From the very beginning readers emphasize with the young woman and her tragedy. A range of figures of speech is employed to describe her state and feelings: epithet “wild abandonment”, comparison with a crying child, metaphors “physical exhaustion that haunted her body” and “storm of grief”. An interesting thing is that after such touching paragraphs describing tears and grief comes a description of surrounded nurture. The entire world around the woman is full of life and happiness. Each and every living being celebrate the joy of being alive: “trees that were all aquiver with the new spring life”, “the delicious breath of rain”, “a peddler was crying his wares”, “countless sparrows were twittering in the eaves”. The woman feels a strange thing “that was approaching to possess her”. At first she even tries to straggle against it, but it doesn’t work. The name of this feeling is freedom and love of life. The change, which happens in emotional state of the main character, is shown throughout her eyes “The vacant stare and the look of terror that had followed it went from her eyes. They stayed keen and bright.” and physical processes “Her pulses beat fast, and the coursing blood warmed and relaxed every inch of her body. “ Oxymoron “monstrous joy” is employed here to show the depth of these changes. I, personally, cannot blame this woman, even though she tells that love of freedom prevails her love to husband. At that time the situation was different from the current state of things in modern world. Women were supposed to obey their husbands, devoting themselves fully to raising a baby and taking care of their house. No time for their personal needs, hobbies, interests and work. So, it is clear why the author compare this woman with goddess of Victory. She really thought at that moment that she won back the life. The sudden and unexpected ending of the story when the dead husband appears at the doors, pushed me for the further thinking. May be the reason for such tragic ending was that the woman was not supposed to have this freedom, may be she was punished for her unnatural feeling of joy with the news of her husband’s death. Anyway, this doesn’t matter. The thing is that this accidental appearance of the husband kills her. The doctor told later, that “she had died of heart disease-of the joy that kills”. Oh, such bitter irony is in this diagnosis.

The story of an hour is a dramatic destiny of Mrs. Mallard. The title of the story speaks for itself. The story begins with introduction of main characters to the reader and with description of key events. Mrs. Mallard was afflicted with a heart trouble and her sister Josephine, her husband's friend Richard did their best to break to Mrs. Mallard as gently as possible the news of her husband's death.
The first passage appears to be exposition, 'cause it contains a short presentation of time, place and characters of the story. Besides, from the very beginning the absence of Mrs. Mallard's name draws our attention.
Further, the author describes Mrs. Mallard's state, how she accepted the news. He writes: "She didn't hear the story as many women have heard the same, with a paralyzed inability to accept its significance". So this makes us think that she didn't accept her husband's death as a fact, but realized its significance for her, perhaps she imagined her further life without her husband, she started thinking of the way her life would change.
"There stood, facing the open window..." There's a slight hint in this sentence, that those changes will be closely connected with the improvement of her life and "the open window" the description of awakened nature in spring suggest it.
Here we should admit the beauty of the language the author uses. "The delicious breath of rain... There were patches of blue sky..." The epithet and metaphor are employed for the expressiveness while describing nature.
The decisive moment comes when ... whispered word escaped her slightly parted lips. She said it over and over under her breath: "Free, free, free!" It's the climax of the story. The metaphor "escape" reveals Mrs. Mallard's state. She was unconscious of her dream to be free. Every inch of her body wished that freedom and now she realized it. She was even glad that her husband died.
But the oxymoron "a monstrous joy" suggests that her reaction was abnormal. She was unhappy in her family life. Her husband "never looked save with love upon her. And she saw beyond that bitter moment a long procession of years to come that would belong to her absolutely...she would live for herself..."
The antithesis in the sentence "And yet she had loved him - sometimes. Often she had not." makes us arrive at a definite conclusion that all her love towards her husband was just an illusion. But still in spite of all this she shouldn't react in this way, it wasn't correct. She was too joyful. The metaphor "she was drinking in a very elixir of life through that open window", the climax "spring days and summer days and all sorts of days"; the epithet "feverish triumph in her eyes" are employed to emphasize her state and unnatural behaviour.
The denouement isn't less unexpected than Mrs. Mallard's reaction. The crucial moment came when Mr. Mallard, which was said to be dead, safe and sound opened the front door. Mrs. Mallard was shocked and died of heart disease. The doctors said that it was joy that killed her. But it wasn't joy, it was despair. All her dreams about free life were broken by her husband and she couldn't live with him any more. She hoped that she had got rid of him, that the destiny made her a present and all her dull life was very far. And when her husband ruined all this she couldn't forgive him. For just an hour she was born again, lived in the world of her dreams and died. She wanted freedom and reached it, but was dead.
A number of messages are conveyed in this story. A human being is born to be free, but he couldn't just rely on destiny and wait for freedom, he must fight for it and then he'll deserve that freedom.
It's a sin to be glad for somebody's death, and one will be punished for it. It is quite difficult to forgive a man, but one should do his best to forgive and give a man another chance.

Зная, что г-жа Маллард страдала от болезни сердца, большое внимание было уделено прорваться к ней как можно осторожнее, с известием о смерти ее мужа.
Это была ее сестра Жозефина которая сказала ей, пунктирными предложений; завуалированные намеки, что выявленные в половине сокрытия. Друг ее мужа Ричардс тоже был там, рядом с ней. Именно он был в редакции газеты, когда интеллект железнодорожной катастрофы было получено, с именем Брентли Маллард ведущей список "убит". Он только взял время, чтобы обеспечить себе его истинность второго телеграммы, и поспешил предупредить любую менее тщательного, меньше нежный друг подшипников печальную сообщение.
Она не слышала историю, как многие женщины слышали то же самое, с парализованной неспособности принять свое значение. Она плакала одновременно, с внезапной, дикой заброшенности, на руках у сестры. Когда буря горя ушла в себя она ушла в свою комнату одна. И никто не следовал за ней.
Там стояла лицом к открытому окну, удобный, вместительный кресло. В это она опустилась, нажата с помощью физического истощения, которые преследовали ее тело и, казалось, достигли в ее душе.
Она видела в открытой площадке перед ее домом верхушки деревьев, которые были все дрожа с новой весенней жизни. Вкусное дыхание дождя в воздухе. На улице ниже разносчика плакала свои товары. Примечания далекой песни, которая кто-то пел достиг ее слабо, и бесчисленные воробьи щебетали в карнизов.
Были пятна голубого неба, показывающие здесь, то там в облаках, которые встречались и сваленных друг над другом в западную сторону ее окна.
Она сидела с запрокинутой головой на подушке стула, довольно неподвижно, кроме случаев, когда рыдания, пришел в горле и покачал ее, как ребенка, который плакал себя сна продолжает рыдать в его снах.
Она была молода, с изрядной, спокойное лицо, чьи линии на заказ репрессии и даже определенную силу. Но теперь было скучно взгляд в ее глазах, чей взгляд был зафиксирован прочь от вон на одном из этих пятен голубого неба. Это не было взгляда отражения, а указал на приостановку интеллектуальной мысли.
Буд-то подходит к ней, и она ждала его, испуганно. Что это было? Она не знала,; это было слишком тонким и неуловимым назвать. Но она чувствовала его, вылезает из неба, достигнув к ней через звуки, запахи, цвета, которые заполнили воздух.
Теперь ее грудь поднималась и опускалась бурно. Она начала признать эту вещь, что приближался обладать ею, и она стремится, чтобы победить его обратно с ее воли - как бессильны, как и ее два белых тонкие руки было бы. Когда она отдалась немного шепотом слово бежал ей слегка раскрытые губы. Она сказала, что ее снова и снова под нос: "бесплатно, бесплатно, бесплатно!" Отсутствующим взглядом и внешний вид террора, который затем он пошел из глаз. Они остались острый и яркий. Ее импульсы бить быстро, и текли кровь нагревается и расслабленным каждый дюйм ее тела.
Она не остановилась, чтобы спросить, если бы это было или не было чудовищно радость, которая держала ее. Ясно и возвышенное восприятие позволило ей уволить предложения относительно тривиально. Она знала, что она будет плакать снова, когда она увидела добрая, нежная сложив руки на смерть; Лицо, которое никогда не смотрел сохранить любовь на нее, фиксированной и серый и мертвых. Но она видела за этот горький момент в длинную процессию годы, что будет принадлежать ей абсолютно. И она открыла и развела руки в них приветствуется.
Там не будет никого, кто бы жить в те ближайшие годы; она будет жить для себя. Там не будет сильная воля гибка ее в том, что слепое упорство, с которым мужчины и женщины считают, что они имеют право налагать личное волю товарища-существа. Доброе намерение или жестоким намерение не сделал акт не кажутся менее преступлением, как она выглядела на нее в этот короткий момент освещения.
И все же она любила его - иногда. Часто она не была. Что не все ли равно! Что может любить, неразгаданной тайной, рассчитывать на в лице этого владения самоутверждения, которую она вдруг узнала как сильнейший импульс ее существа!
"Тело свободно! Душа свободна!" она шептала.
Жозефина стояла на коленях перед закрытой дверью с ее губ к замочной скважине, умоляя о приеме. "Луиза, откройте дверь, я прошу, открой дверь - вы будете делать себя плохо Что вы делаете, Луиза, ради бога открыть дверь!.?."
"Уходи. Я не делаю себе плохо." Нет; она пила в самом эликсира жизни через этот открытое окно.
Ее фантазии бежал бунт вдоль этих дней впереди нее. Весенние дни, и летние дни, и всякие дней, которые будут ее самостоятельно. Она дышала короткую молитву, что жизнь может быть долго. Это было только вчера она думала с содроганием, что жизнь может быть долго.
Она возникла в длину и открыл дверь в домогательств сестры. Был лихорадочное триумф в ее глазах, и она вела себя невольно, как богиня Победы. Она обхватила за талию сестры, и вместе они спустились по лестнице. Ричардс стоял и ждал их внизу.
Кто-то открывал входную дверь с отмычками. Это было Брентли Маллард, кто вошел, немного путешествия, окрашенных, спокойно неся ручки-мешок и зонтик. Он был далеко от места происшествия, и даже не знаю, что был одним. Он стоял поражены пронзительный крик Жозефины; на быстрое движение Ричардса на экран его с точки зрения его жены.
Когда приехали врачи сказали они, что она умерла от болезни сердца - радости, которая убивает.

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