Darkness at Noon Essay

The memoir Night illustrates how having power is one of the easiest ways to become corrupted, as many people who have power end up abusing it. This abuse would not be possible without the abuser’s power, so it leads to corruption. The memoir Night is about a boy, the author Elie Wiesel, and his experiences throughout the Holocaust. The book recounts events from the time he got the death camp, to the time left the camp. The book shows how power ultimately leads to corruption through three authoritarian people and groups, named Frank, Idek and the Schutzstaffel (SS).

One of the main themes throughout the book is the title of the book “Night”. There are references from Eliezer about night during the book, which are full of symbolism. The word “night” is used repeatedly, and Eliezer recounts every dusk, night and dawn through the entire book. For instance, Night could be a metaphor for the Holocaust—submerge the family and thousands of Jewish families in the darkness and misery of the concentration camps.

For my at home movie I watched Hang em’ High directed by Ted Post. It is considered a spaghetti western that was made in America. In comparison to the film we watched in class, High Noon directed by Fred Zinnemann. These two westerns had many similarities and differences. From differences in how the movie was actually shot, to the similarity of how both of the main characters are loners, these two movies connect all over on many different levels.

Night and One Day in the Life of Ivan Denisovich express the potential horrors of humanity’s immense capacity for extreme cruelty. Both took place in mid-twentieth century Europe and exposed the hardships of life in forced-labor camps: Wiesel’s in various concentration camps, Solzhenitsyn’s in Gulags. It is important for human populations to be aware of these tragedies so as to not commit the same atrocities again; therefore, this essay will explore each with regards to shared or different themes included and the messages presented. Both of these books are important due to their influential and informative nature regarding the horrors of their respective historical times. Night by Elie Wiesel and One Day in the Life of Ivan Denisovich by Aleksandr

Individuality is the supreme catalyst that guides people to feel self-worth and become emboldened in their pursuits. It is the mentality that gives humans clarity and uniqueness that make the world interesting. It is what allows each person to be respected in his/her own way. In the stories Night and Persepolis, the motif of individuality is emphatically expressed. It is portrayed as essential to the hope of the masses. When individuality is suppressed people lose virtues/self respect/humanity, motivation/will to live and faith. In essence, they give up the idea of anything else except their suffering. As thousands die, the protagonists (of Night and Persepolis)

Darkness at Noon, written by British novelist Arthur Koestler in 1940, is a criticism of Stalinism and the methods used by the Communist Party in the USSR. The novel was set in 1938 during the Stalinist Great Purge and Moscow show trials. Even though the story depicts actual occurrences, it does not specifically name either Russia or the USSR, but the characters do have Russian names while other generic terms are used to depict individuals and associations. For instance, the Soviet government is alluded to as "the Party" and Nazi Germany is alluded to as "the Dictatorship." Joseph Stalin, a terrorizing dictator, is represented by "Number One." The novel is a strong and moving picture of a Communist revolutionary caught up in the terror

these people with their lives and the lives of their loved ones, the Jews were “persuaded”

The Russian Revolution and the purges of Leninist and Stalinist Russia have spawned a literary output that is as diverse as it is voluminous. Darkness at Noon, a novel detailing the infamous Moscow Show Trials, conducted during the reign of Joseph Stalin is Arthur Koestler’s commentary upon the event that was yet another attempt by Stalin to silence his critics. In the novel, Koestler expounds upon Marxism, and the reason why a movement that had as its aim the “regeneration of mankind, should issue in its enslavement” and how, in spite of its drawbacks, it still held an appeal for intellectuals. It is for this reason that Koestler may have attempted “not to solve but to expose” the shortcomings of this political system and by doing so

Within the eleven chapters that comprise Waiting 'Til the Midnight Hour lays a treasure chest of information for anyone interested in Black or African American history, particularly the civil rights movement that took place during the 1950’s and 1960’s. I am a self-professed scholar of African American history and I found an amazing amount of information that I was not aware of. Like most who claim to be Black History experts, I was aware of the roles of Martin Luther King, Malcolm X, Rosa Parks, W.E.B. Du Bois and Marcus Garvey. However,

Arthur Koestler's Darkness at Noon depicts the fallacious logic of a totalitarian regime through the experiences of Nicolas Salmanovitch Rubashov. Rubashov had fought in the revolution and was once part of the Central Committee of the Party, but he is arrested on charges of instigating attempted assassinations of No. 1, and for taking part in oppositional, counter-revolutionary activities, and is sent to a Soviet prison. Rubashov, in his idle pacing throughout his cell, recollects his past with the Party. He begins to feel impulses of guilt, most especially in those moments he was required to expel devoted revolutionaries from the Party, sending them to their death. These

Richard E. Miller essay “The Dark Night of the Soul” to be an interesting way to think about reading and writing in today’s world. Richard uses the violence in the world to question if our educational system is relevant to keeping us safe and whether the power literature can be used to change the tragic event that happen around us every day.

"Never shall I forget that night, the first night in the camp, which has turned my life into one long night, seven times cursed and seven times sealed. Never shall I forget that smoke. Never shall I forget the little wreaths of smoke beneath a silent blue sky. Never shall I forget those flames which consumed my faith forever. Never shall I forget that nocturnal silence which deprived me, for all eternity, of the desire to live. Never shall I forget those moments which murdered my God and my soul and turned my dreams to dust. Never shall I forget these things, even if I am condemned to live as long as God Himself. Never." (9)

It was a dark and stormy winter night in Maine. My husband and I were just sitting in our living room in our old farm house just getting back from New York from visiting our oldest son and his family, while watching the news. A news report came on and said a 12 year old girl and her mother were just in a really bad car accident, on an old back road on there way home. They were just airlifted to the nearest hospital not knowing if either of them will survive.

It is finally night time, my feeding period. For the past few days I have been stealing food without anyone knowing. When no one took responsibility, I blamed it on the rats. I tiptoed quietly down the stairs, and into the main room. I have to be extremely quiet because this is where Mr. and Mrs. Frank and Margot sleep. I make my way to the food safe, light a match, and then cautiously open the food safe. I take out a loaf of bread, and close the safe.

In the dark and crowded streets I watch as tourists and Dubliners alike pack into the already-full pubs to escape the frigid temperature that continues to drop as it welcomes in the New Year. Illuminated by the streetlamps, the first flurries of snow make their way to the pavement, sticking to the ground as burrs to rabbit fur and encouraging me to make my way to a protruded doorway across from Temple Bar at a place called Black Church Print Studio for a bit of protection; after laying down my cardboard, I sit, waiting for the wind to disappear and the stumbling drunkards along with it. Still, I can’t help but hope that one of the more sober attendees of Temple Bar will offer me shelter for the night—a place of warmth. For now, though, the people rush past me, some fearful that if they acknowledge my existence that they, too, will catch the disease that is homelessness; others cannot even make out my figure from behind the fog that ascends and reappears with each chilled exhale.