Descriptive Essay Writing: Willy Loman's Life

In this excerpt from Ann Petry’s 1946 novel, The Street, the wind is portrayed as a force that tests one’s perseverance. The relationship between Lutie Johnson and the urban setting is established with the use of imagery, personification, and selection of detail. In her novel, Petry gives the “cold November wind” human-like qualities to portray the wind as the central antagonist. Petry developed the relationship by opening with a description of the actions of the wind as “violent assaults”. Although the wind had created a hostile environment, Lutie Johnson was able to persist through the obstacles it had thrown at her.

The dust was thickening to an impenetrable fog” at the beginning of his story, this description of nature throughout the article afterward definitely brings an environmental effect on readers. In contrast, in Homesteading in Saskatchewan, the readers see a different scene in prairie in the same era through the author’s narrative history, by introducing Salloum’s parents and their children’s life at that time. Going back to In The Lamp at Noon story, along with the author developing the plots, Paul and Ellen’s responses to their environments help readers understand the atmosphere is depressed, despair, and suffocated. To depict details of the dilemma and conflict between Paul and Ellen, he drew the clear imagery of the characters’ behaviors and thoughts, for example, “She mustn’t. He would only despise her if she ran to the stable looking for him.

In the excerpt from Ann Petry’s novel, The Street, Petry establishes Lutie Johnson’s relationship to the urban setting. Petry sets a third-person omniscient pov to capture the harshness of the wind, which is the main antagonist of the excerpt. The narrator successfully captures the bitterness of the wind by using descriptive imagery and vivid personality.

“Beneath the gore and smoke and loam, this book is about the evanescence of life, and why some men choose to fill their brief allotment of time engaging the impossible, others in the manufacture of sorrow. In the end it is a story of the ineluctable conflict between good and evil, daylight and darkness, the White City and the Black.” (xi) This shows the contrast between the White City and the Black City. One, perfect, beautiful, magical, the other dark, filthy, evil. The two work together yet against each other in the battle to win over the hearts of the people who visit, and those who decide to stay

Memories of the night before became a vivid memory in the recesses of his dimly lit mind, underneath the sunlight's intruding yet blissful gaze and the sensation of silk against his bare skin felt like a euphoria, a river of midnight encased his slender figure and with the scrunch of his refined nose and furrowed knit of his thin eyebrows, he rose from his slumber. Delicate fingertips leisurely danced across the silken sheets which lost its assuaging warmth only to discern that he was gone, Padding through the spacious house far too big for two alone to fill, and too much of a burden for one to find comfort in. To see his lover, clad in a suit that managed to take his breath away immediately

Through the strong use of figurative language in this passage of Ann Petry’s, “The Street,” Lutie Johnson’s relationship with her urban setting is effectively expressed to the reader. As Lutie experiences a relentlessly windy November night, Petry explores the harsh details of her walk by creating a vision of the environment, and conveying its relationship with Lutie through the use of selection of detail, personification, and imagery. To begin the passage, Petry utilizes selection of detail to set the tone of the environment around Lutie. The wind is the first and most exhausting character to be discussed, as “It rattled the tops of garbage cans, sucked window shades out through the top of the opened windows and set them flapping back against the windows.” This excerpt represents the simpler effects that the wind has on the environment, and is purposefully composed of words and little situations that start to build it as a possible antagonist.

She imagined him walking to her from the far side of the dead-end street, where only he could transcend that barrier. He towered her, with dark hair and olive skin and a nose that looked like it had been broken once and never healed quite right. It made his face look strong, but it was nothing imposing. His gait was calm, confident, unhurried. His hands, long-fingered and calloused from working with wood, rested peaceably at his sides. She saved the thought of his eyes for later, because oddly, all of her frailty and all of his strength coexisted together in there. But that was just her imagination.

The lights of the town were veiled in darkness, a mere inverted shadow amidst the gloom of the night. Distant thunderings, as those brought to mind with Dies Irae or the distant chattering of a great blaze could be heard, drawing nigh upon the trembling hands of the people frantically seeking a shade for the lights that would soon propagate should their brilliance stretch to the skies, but found difficulty locating even their hands at arm’s length, due to the cloud over the town, in the streets, as real and thick as the blanket of golden and crimson extending toward the town at a propeller’s rate, silencing the natural beauty of the countryside amid the sounds of death and destruction.

The American Indian felt invidious because of the uncaring comments of the cruel cowboy about his ancestors.

Chorus 1 There are tales of a man, yonder Which perplexes the mind, Leaves the wisest man at ponder, Walking man flee from hind On darkness’ back a man came On bright’s onset he ran On darkness back he walked till light In darkness waning, man In darkness’ waxing, demon. Spirits whispered, none heard

Tragic Hero Willy Loman is a middle class working man who works and drives a substantial amount of hours to pay for bills, put food on the table and most importantly for him provide for his family. He has the qualities to be called a modern tragic hero, eventually leaves he suffered greatly to keep him and his family afloat. He was an all-around great guy toward his family and his sons, Biff and Happy; he deeply cared for them; and he wanted only the best for them by pushing them so they could live the American Dream. Willy Loman a hard working family man represents many of the hard working American men who work hard to give their family the life they never had. This family provider faced many forms of challenges along his road, he was put aside by his employer as he grew older in age similar to how it is in today's society, suffered financially, and had health issues.

The steam from the kettle had condensed on the cold window and was running down the glass in tear-like trickles. Outside in the orchard the man from the smudge company was refilling the posts with oil. The greasy smell from last night’s burning was still in the air. Mr. Delahanty gazed out at the bleak darkening orange grove; Mrs. Delahanty watched her husband eat, nibbling up to the edges of the toast, then staking the crusts about his tea cup in a neat fence-like arrangement.

The atmosphere of this exposition is clearly foreboding: "the dark clouds, broken chimneys, unused street, solitary cat, and dead air" all prove ominous and reflect the sordid ruling mood. Failed culture and solitary of aimless women ("a cat moved itself in and out of railing") not knowing exactly what to do about their predicaments in which

The tree swayed against the cool night breeze giving off an eerie feel. Gilbert continued to walk, the sounds of the city died away and in it's place were the murmurs of the leaves. The soft crunching sound of fallen autumn leaves from under his feet grew louder and louder, he proceeds to go on until he arrived at the park. The metal creaked in the background, he sees the rusty swing sets and slanted slide. Further he wanders into the park, only his own breath was audible gnawing on his nails, sweat trickled down his face. A stench consumed the air, a blinding mixture of deification and sweat. He saw a man very thin and has a lot of wrinkles, his clothes were buried in filth, blood vessels standing out, larger knuckles a pinkish discolouration of his skin that look old and tired but soft he had narrow hooded eyes and bushy eyebrows brows. He slouched on the bench mumbling words under his breath.

The sunset was not spectacular that day. The vivid ruby and tangerine streaks that so often caressed the blue brow of the sky were sleeping, hidden behind the heavy mists. There are some days when the sunlight seems to dance, to weave and frolic with tongues of fire between the blades of grass. Not on that day. That evening, the yellow light was sickly. It diffused softly through the gray curtains with a shrouded light that just failed to illuminate. High up in the treetops, the leaves swayed, but on the ground, the grass was silent, limp and unmoving. The sun set and the earth waited.