The Wonderer 10th Century

After each friend desert Everyman and he is moaning and wondering who will go with him, he calls upon Good Deeds whom he finds on the floor weak. Good Deeds is weak because Everyman has made very few good deeds in his lifetime. Good Deeds calls on her sister Knowledge to help Everyman go on his journey.

The book ”Wonder” written by R.J. Palacio follows a young boy named August Pullman and his struggles in fifth grade. The struggle of being the only kid who looks the way he does. The struggle of being the only kid at his school who has Treacher Collins Syndrome. Even with all the obstacles in his path, August’s overall experience at Beecher Prep has had a positive impact on his life.

In the beginning of the novel, a group of boys are stranded on an island resulting in the creation and decline of a civilization, and an uprising of savagery. Fear is an essential element of the story illustrated through foreshadowing, symbolism and diction. The young boys are terrified by a beast on the island. With fear rippling through the group, sheer chaos, savagery, a break in civilization, and a loss of innocence ensues.

“Things fall apart; the center cannot hold” (“The Second Coming”). In the novel Things Fall Apart, the village’s belief system began to collapse. In “The Second Coming”, the narrator is witnessing an era coming to an end, and in “Ozymandias,” a statue of a tyrant falls apart, symbolizing the destruction of his legacy. There is a central theme shared amongst these three works. Things throughout history, good or bad, like religions, infamous leaders, or eras in history all inevitably come to an end.

The night’s sky was a foreboding glow, displaying the remnants of the chaos that proceeded on that very night. The air was calm and still, leaving no trace of the strong, mighty wind that had once seized it. Seeker Gawin and Annabelle emerge from the Great Fall forest, heading in the direction of the marketplace of the Masonburge Village with a bewildered first commander, who was heading back to the castle, passing them with his men riding a few feet behind. The people of the village have gathered in a somber mood, watching the last of the king’s men carry away bodies on one of their horses.

Being faced with adversity is enough to begin to question everything known, be it morals, faith, or self worth. However, certain individuals’ faith flourishes amidst life’s trials. Those who choose to focus on love and all that is dear in life are able to continue on in spite of hardships; on the other hand, some lose touch of what matters because the hopelessness and devastation overwhelms. Brains begin to numb and their values are left out in the cold. Fighting, pressing, and believing during times of loneliness is crucial for survival.

My first claim for this essay is that despite the harshness and catastrophe of the world around them, the protagonists in the novel still stick to their ‘old world’

Take heed, this book will usher you deep into the minds of the characters. In the garden of good and evil, of war and peace, you will taste and see the agony of hurting hearts and broken minds.

Softly shuddering, the cliff trembles in terror of the thunder overhead, ocean water gushing in great geysers, azure foam frothing like the mouth of a rabid dog, eating at the base of the cliff. Lashing tendrils of smoke and ash, still smelling of burnt flesh began darting through the air. Black suffocating smoke from an old fire; little devils dancing in the breeze, the noxious fumes smothering all who stood in its presence. Thunder screamed overhead, small explosions echoing off of the cliff, the precipice teetering and swaying like a drunkard. A shock of light colliding with a tree on the edge of the forest, heartlessly spewing sparks; electric whips searching for new victims. The opaque bush igniting in flame, revealing the violet eyes

Everyman tries to talk to his friends to accompany him on the long journey, but they abandon him in time of need. In fact, Fellowship responds to Everyman by saying, “Whether ye have loved me or no, by Saint John, I will not with thee go” (Line 287). Even a close cousin also not willing to go along with you, she makes excuse of having a pain in her toe (Lines 356). In this respect, Julian Paulson notes,

A naive child, standing tall against the deepening colors of an approaching sunset, felt the shudders of air through his skin. Vibrations erupted through the rusted metal and ancient wooden boards, leaving him to inhale the smoky wind as the beast arrived. A squeaking groan traveled its way up his skeletal figure as the booming became louder, headlights already in view from afar. He planted his feet sturdy between two boards, his usual routine. With his arms upstretched to the ever changing hues of the city’s ceiling, he screamed out-- a battle cry of frustration and sadness, mixing with stress and happiness all in one feeling. Words could not begin to cover the trials he must have gone through that week. The army of wheels charged against the ground beams covering more ground by the

Starting with “The Wanderer,” the speaker begins his tale by reminiscing upon his trials and tribulations of which he has suffered a great deal and “longs for relief, the Almighty’s mercy” (118). He has lost his friends and no longer has anyone to confide in, forcing him to be alone with his thoughts: “So I must hold in the thoughts of my heart” (118). In the midst of his grieving, the Wanderer recalls a joyous occasions, such as when “his friend and lord helped him to the feast” (119), only to realize that what once was, is no longer. He finds comfort in his dreams, longing to be back with his “liege-lord again” only to awaken and have reality come shattering down upon him (119). However, he comes to the conclusion that through hardship and suffering, one matures, grows, learns his place in life and how “a good man holds his words back, tells his woes not too soon, baring his inner heart before knowing the best way” (120).

In the meadows that shimmer pale, And comes to twine where the headstones shine And the ghouls of the churchyard wail For harvests that fly and fail. Not a breath of the strange grey gods of change That tore from the past its own Can quicken this hour, when a spectral pow’r Spreads sleep o’er the cosmic throne

How arrives it joy lies slain, And why unblooms the best hope ever sown? --Crass Casualty obstructs the sun and rain, And dicing Time for gladness casts a moan....

On a street a hundred years earlier, the air was thick with malice. The stomping of feet was not the women's doing anymore. The sound was a threat, a constant reminder that this world was not made for them. Gazes flitted from one another to the men closing in on the progression. Each step the pack animals took closer felt like invisible hands closing around the women’s throats, sucking the air from their lungs and the words from their lips. One woman wrapped an arm around another, the wool of her coat brushing against the cotton of her friend’s clothes, and a chain reaction was set off. Like living dominos, the women fell against each other, linking arms and drawing strength from the embrace. Then they collectively drew a breath, bracing for impact, ready for the fight.