Character, Conflict, and Deception

Miller’s depiction of conflict and his character development are masterful in The Crucible, as evidenced by the “tangled web” he weaves throughout the play. Aside from the main conflict of accusers versus the accused, Miller includes several lesser conflicts in his plot, many of which revolve around Abigail and the various lies she tells. We see that Abigail is in conflict with her uncle, who is troubled by the fact that she hasn’t been hired by another family in the seven months since she stopped working for the Proctors (1.1, p. 8). Abigail is also in conflict with her friends, because it is she who swears them to silence, even thought they want to come clean about what happened in the woods (“—let either of you breathe a word, or the edge of a word…and I will come to you in the black of some terrible night…” 1.1, p. 12). And of course, Abigail is in conflict with both Proctors, the one because she wants to be with him and he refuses, and the other because she wants to take her place. But, for all of these conflicts, Abigail stays true to the course she’s set for herself. She may be involved in many external conflicts, but we don’t really ever see her struggle with internal conflicts. The Proctors, on the other hand, are a different story.

Now, the Proctors are an excellent example of a tangled web of both internal and external conflicts. John Proctor wrestles internally with the conflict of his desire for Abigail coupled with saving his marriage. He knows that his lust for Abigail is wrong, so he’s doing his best to work it out with Elizabeth, put his affair in the past, and atone for his deception. Then, of course, because he chooses his wife over his girlfriend, that sets up one of Abigail’s conflicts, which also winds up exacerbating Proctor’s conflicts with Parris and the town. Even Elizabeth, stainless though her reputation may be, is not safe from conflict. She’s trying to figure out how to forgive her husband for his transgressions, but she’s so deeply hurt that she’s making things worse, so she’s struggling with those issues internally, because she’s not capable of the deception that has made her into a victim. Externally, Elizabeth makes no secret of the fact that she despises Abigail and everything the girl stands for, so that does not help her cause when she becomes one of the accused.

While there are several other examples of external and internal conflicts in the play, I want to make sure that I spend some time talking about character, because Miller does an excellent job of revealing character through his use of imagery.

When we talk about character development, particularly in this play, we’re looking at the words characters use about themselves and the words others use to describe them. Since playwrights must be economical in their word choice, they don’t have the luxury of devoting paragraphs to create character sketches—they must choose a few powerful words that get their point across succinctly, just as poets do.

An example of a short poem that’s packed with effective imagery is Billy Collins’s “Introduction to Poetry.” He describes different ways we can look at poetry with the intent of discovering its meaning: he wants us to proceed as if the poem is a color filter through which to view the world, or a buzzing beehive, or watching a mouse find its way out of a maze, or going on a waterskiing adventure, or feeling the way through a darkened room to a light switch. Instead, his students just want to “tie the poem to a chair with rope / and torture a confession out of it.”

I mention this poem in particular, not just because of the ending image, but because of how Collins makes us feel when we read the earlier images: there’s a sense of wonder, of discovery, of curiosity, all because of the words he chooses. That’s the excitement he wants his students to find in reading poetry, not the exercise of torture that they make of it in practice.

In the same way that Collins does, Miller makes us feel certain things about his characters, based on the images he uses. For example, “your name in the town…is entirely white” coupled with “there be no blush about my name” (1.1, p. 8) makes us wonder whether Abigail is trustworthy right from the start, just based on the colors Miller chooses to reference. White symbolizes truth and goodness and purity, while blush symbolizes imperfection, impurity, and tarnish. It suggests that she’s a maiden no longer, hinting that she’s had carnal knowledge of a man. Proctor’s line “Oh, Elizabeth, your justice would freeze beer” (1.2, p. 31) makes take a step back for a moment, to think about whether Proctor really was in the wrong for having an affair, or whether Elizabeth’s coldness drove him to it. In those four words, we learn more about how icy Elizabeth has been to Proctor since his affair with Abigail than we would have with a full-page description in a novel. Miller’s image here clearly shows us that Elizabeth has been so cold and so unforgiving that even alcohol would freeze in her presence, so devoid of warmth and love is she. Suffice it to say, Miller knows how to make the most of literary devices and employs them to great dramatic effect in this play.

"As Clean as God's Fingers"

If she is innocent! Why do you never wonder if Parris be innocent, or Abigail? Is the accuser always holy now? Were they born this morning as clean as God’s fingers? I’ll tell you what’s walking Salem—vengeance is walking Salem. We are what we always were in Salem, but now the little crazy children are jangling the keys of the kingdom, and common vengeance writes the law! This warrant’s vengeance; I will not give my wife to vengeance!

                                  —John Proctor in Arthur Miller’s  

                                             The Crucible, 1.2, p. 44

One of the reasons why I love this play so much is that Miller gives all of the actors so much to work with, and this monologue of Proctor’s is no exception. Just shy of the end of Act 1, Proctor gives this speech when he finds out that Abigail Williams, his wife’s former serving-girl with whom he had an affair, has accused his upright, righteous, God-fearing wife, Elizabeth, of witchcraft.

Proctor knows that Abigail looks to get rid of Elizabeth and take her place in the Proctor household, but he hasn’t taken her or the situation of the court proceedings seriously until now. Prior to this accusation, based on the reports from their current serving-girl, Mary Warren, Proctor and Elizabeth were discussing whether or not he should visit the court and repeat what Abigail told him the day her cousin Betty took sick—that the girls were dancing in the woods, got frightened when her uncle, Rev. Parris, discovered them, and there was no witchcraft involved.

Proctor’s having a difficult time trying to figure out what to do here, because if he gets involved with the proceedings, he knows that he will eventually have to admit that he had relationship with Abigail while he was married. He knows that will damage his honor, reputation, and family, not to mention his credibility in court. Proctor’s spent seven months trying to atone for his wrong-doing, and now he’s attempting to do the right thing by telling the truth of what happened. The problem is that the town is primed to believe the girls’ lies.

Parris is angry with some of the townspeople for not coming to church regularly enough, not contributing enough to his salary, and in the Proctors’ case, not allowing him to baptize their youngest child. Parris’s pride has been wounded, so he latches on to this issue of witchcraft to exact his vengeance on those he feels have wronged him. We already know that Abigail wants to be the new Goodwife Proctor, so she’s using this opportunity to try to make that happen, not to mention the fact that she enjoys wielding so much power over so many people who have disapproved of her “loose ways.” Ann Putnam has borne eight children, but only one has lived more than one day, which makes it very difficult for her to be around Rebecca Nurse, a mother and grandmother of many. Thus, the Putnams are willing to do whatever it takes to make their pain go away, even if it means accusing upstanding citizens like the Nurses.

In this speech, Proctor comments on this wave of vengeance that has swept through Salem, because he knows that all of these disputes have been simmering under the surface for years, but have never found their outlet until now. He attempts to get his wife’s accusers to see the truth, to listen to reason, to realize that the accusers are only seeking vengeance, while the accused are only confessing because they’ll die if they don’t, but all of this is to no avail. The events set in motion the night the girls danced cannot yet be stopped. The irony here is that, in trying to get everyone else to see reason, Proctor is the only one who is truly acting like the Christian he claims to be—he’s sinned, but he’s asked forgiveness and made attempts to atone for his sin. Everyone else claims to be Christian, but they are only looking out for their own best interests—they are more interested in keeping up appearances than in truly living the faith they claim to possess.

Which One?

I’m having a hard time deciding which text to focus on this week, partially because of what was available at my library and partially because of my ideas about how to connect students to the text. I’ve been debating between The Crucible (one of my favorites), The Absolutely True Diary of a Part-Time Indian (recently read for the first time as part of my Methods internship), and The Secret Life of Bees (a “want to read” that was available at my library, which I finished just today).

Given my level of indecision, I decided to look at the Billy Collins poems next. First, I wanted to see whether I could connect any of the poems to the texts listed above, second, to begin to practice infusing poetry into a “regular” unit of study, and third, to see if the poems led me to the text that most inspires me for this assignment. Upon my first reading of “Introduction to Poetry,” I thought it could connect well to The Crucible, because the lines about tying a poem to a chair to drag a confession out of it remind me of the witch trial proceedings, and I know how I’d help students connect to The Crucible. I’ve spent quite a lot of time thinking about it. I’d start by asking them about what “gossip” and “reputation” and “power” mean to them. These concepts are not only central to the play, but also particularly to the lives of high school students. Once I get their thoughts on that, I’d ask them how gossip affects their lives: is it worse on social media? Do they pass along the gossip they hear, or does it stop with them? Do they know anyone whose reputation has been permanently damaged by gossip? Is gossip true? Fair? Just? How much power does gossip wield over their lives and the lives of their friends? After they have a chance to respond to those questions, I’d connect their responses to the world of the play by highlighting aspects of the plot that are directly tied to gossip, reputation, and power.  

Initially, I had a more difficult time finding a poem that makes sense with True Diary (nothing concrete upon first readings). After rereading the poems a few times, I see how I could use “Forgetfulness,” because that’s what Junior’s friends and family on “the rez” fear the most—that Junior will forget them, turn his back on them somehow, simply by going to school in Reardan. In terms of connecting students to the text, this one goes down a lot more easily than a more traditional text, because True Diary takes place in high school. Sure, most students in our neck of the woods haven’t dealt with the struggle of life on an Indian reservation and what it means to leave the reservation for an education, but they certainly can connect to the universal high school issues that Junior encounters: bullying, self-esteem, identity, fitting in, dating, etc. The book is written in a way that really speaks to the students where they are in their lives, so even though it’s not necessarily a book I’ll read if I’m not teaching it, I can completely see the value in the discussions it sparks with the students based on the issues it tackles.

Lastly, while there are a couple of the Billy Collins poems that could work as a connection to The Secret Life of Bees, “I Ask You” seems most appropriate to me, because it addresses what Lily has been searching for throughout the novel: a community that she can truly call her own, a family who loves her just as she is, a place in which she can be at peace with herself and her life. Again, because this is a newer novel that follows a teenager, it’s easier for students to connect to than a more traditional text, even though it’s a period piece. What I might do to help students connect to it is to ask them whether they feel like they belong or not in the life they’re currently leading and why, because that’s Lily’s biggest issue. She’s in a life, but it’s not really the one she’s meant to live, so she needs to break free to find her way to the path that’s hers to follow. I might also ask students to think about the word “community”—what it means to them, whether they feel like they’re part of one community or many and why. Once we talk about those things, then I’ll preview the novel and we’ll talk about what students might want to keep in mind as they read.

Dear readers, any feedback you have for me regarding which idea speaks to you more than the others is most welcome!

Discussion Strategies in Practice

This week, I’ve written a pair of lessons that weave together The Help, The Crucible, and To Kill a Mockingbird. We’re looking at literary terms through the ways in which the author employs the devices to achieve a certain effect. We explore the themes of truth, the “lines” between different segments of society, and how we can determine whether or not to believe someone.

We’ll explore the following essential questions:

            Lesson I

·      How do the novels and play we’re using demonstrate what these terms look like?

·      How is the basic use of literary devices established in the text?

·      Do literary devices impact the way we react to the content of a novel or play? Why or why not?

·      How are each of these works connected with each other?

·      Why are we looking at these particular themes in relation to literature, and how are they relevant to our current world?

As part of the first lesson, I’ll ask the students the following “thunk” as a discussion technique: Do “the lines” exist when two people interact if one of them believes in “the lines” and the other doesn’t?

Lesson II

·      Who is the most truthful person you know? Why?

·      What makes a person truthful?

·      Is being truthful the same as being believable? Why or why not?

·      Why do we choose to believe some people but not others?

·      What is truth?

·      How do we know what is true and what isn’t true?

·      Why do we listen to and believe people like Hilly Holbrook and Abigail Williams? Do we believe people like Bob and Mayella Ewell? Is there a difference between these sets of characters? Why or why not?

During the second lesson, we’ll play Two Truths and a Lie, first with a pair of students volunteering to demonstrate how it works to the class. Then, we’ll break into smaller groups for students to prepare their statements. Once statements are prepared, each group will present their statements to the rest of the class, who will then decide which are true and which are not. (If each text has more than one group, students will only judge the texts that they did not prepare.)

I’ve attached each lesson plan below, as they are far too unwieldy for a blog post. Enjoy!

Discussion Strategies Part I

Discussion Strategies Part II

Exploration of Discussion Strategies

In looking at different techniques and strategies for discussions this week, I decided to dig deeper into “thunks,” “pose-pause-pounce-bounce,” “question wall,” and “golden lines.” I had never heard of the first two before this week, and didn’t know a lot about the latter two.

Three "Thunks"

 Thunks are an excellent way to get students thinking about situations that may appear to be simple but are actually quite complex. We’ve all heard at least one thunk—some of the most common are, “Which came first—the chicken or the egg?” or “If a tree falls in a forest and no one is around to hear it, does it still make a sound?” The thing about thunks is that they help students to look at the shades of gray that are embedded in issues that they might think are black and white. The world is a complex place, but we can use these seemingly simple questions to start to understand its depth. I can completely see myself using these to tackle hot-button topics (related, of course, to whatever we’re reading at the moment) that might get short-changed because people have too cut-and-dried of an opinion on them. I can also have students generate these kinds of questions about their readings, to see if they can stump their colleagues or not.

Pose-pause-pounce-bounce seems like it’s a great discussion technique to use with a highly energetic and competitive class, because once the pouncing happens, the pace seems like it’s fairly quick. It works like this: the teacher poses a question, then pauses for at least ten seconds (usually more—waiting until it looks like folks are ready to respond), in order to give students time to think out a response. When the wait time is up, the teacher pounces on a student who doesn’t normally answer a question first and may or may not know. Once Student X has answered, the question gets “bounced” to Student Y, either to agree or disagree, and to explain why. This seems like a great way to get more students involved in a discussion, but I would not start out a class using this technique if I have students who are identified for anxiety. If I had given them a heads-up that they’d be called on after a certain number of people have responded, then I might use the technique—it depends on how safe they feel in my class, how much they trust me, and how much they trust each other.

As for the question wall, I had heard of it, but I didn’t realize that there were so many ways to use it, such as combining the idea of exit tickets with the question wall. In this iteration, students write a question on their Post-Its, which they then add to the question wall on their way to their next class. What I like about the question wall is that it gives students a visual representation of what their classmates are thinking about, the things that everyone wants to know. Students often feel “dumb” or “stupid” if they ask a question in class, because they think they’re supposed to know everything already. They fear that people will make fun of them for asking a question, or that they’re going to fail at something. What they don’t realize is that questioning is part of learning, and that they learn more from failing than they do with immediately having the right answer. With the question wall technique in place, students realize that they ALL have questions, and that ALL of the questions are valid (as long as they are school-appropriate, of course). This can be a real confidence and self-esteem booster for kids and help them to realize that they’re all here to learn something together. It may be clichéd to say that the only stupid question is the one you don’t ask, but there is certainly truth to that idea.

Finally, I can see myself using “golden lines” with any text. When students have to choose a line or a passage that spoke to them and then talk about that passage in front of the class, it gives them the opportunity to think deeply and reflect on why that line or passage is important. It could be something that students connect to personally, it could be a commentary on the text itself, it could be anything—and that’s the point. Once students start sharing what jumps out at them, this can really get a discussion going, because students can find out whether other people chose the same lines or passages.

Wrapping it Up: Shiloh Blog Post Chapters 11 – 15: Director, Travel Tracer, Literary Luminary

“The jig is up!” These are the words that come to my mind if I was asked to describe the last section of Shiloh in one sentence. Between the various discoveries of Marty’s secret and the attack on Shiloh, the climactic crisis of the book has arrived, so it’s pertinent that I’ll be blogging in part as a Travel Tracer today, as the pace of events picks up a bit in this section. By this point in the book, everyone in the family plus Doc Murphy knows about Shiloh. Ma found out because Marty snuck food out that he doesn’t usually eat, Dad found out because the neighbor’s German shepherd hopped the fence of Shiloh’s pen and started attacking him, and Doc Murphy found out because that’s where Dad and Marty take Shiloh to be patched up—the only person who hasn’t found out yet, it seems, is Judd, and that’s about to change.

Chapter 11 Travel:

1. Marty’s inside on his couch bed, trying to sleep through his worry about Shiloh.

2. When he wakes up in the morning, Marty goes outside to attempt to be by himself, but is joined by his younger sister, Dara Lynn.

3. Marty starts to go up the hill to try to clean up Shiloh’s pen when he hears David Howard arrive. David joins Marty, and they go to the meadow the long way to fly David’s new kite.

4. Marty tries to bring David back to the house without seeing Shiloh’s pen, but it doesn’t work—David finds the pen, so Marty has to tell him what happened while the boys clean up the pen before they go back to the house.

5. Back at the house, Doc Murphy pulls up in his car around 3:30 with Shiloh, who is on the mend.

Chapter 12 Travel:

1. Everyone’s at home, including Shiloh, and the family is just as taken with him as Marty.

2. Everyone stays close to home for a few days, except for Dad, who works as a mail carrier. Marty carries Shiloh from his box in the house outside to do his business, then brings him right back in.

3. After a few days, Marty walks to the grocery store in Friendly to see if there are any odd jobs he can do to earn money to buy Shiloh from Judd. Finding nothing, Marty walks home.

4. Back at the house, just as the family is about to have their dessert, Judd Travers raps on the door and issues the following ultimatum: Shiloh has to be returned to him by Sunday.

Chapter 13 Travel:

1. Marty walks to David’s house in Friendly on Friday to try to figure out how to keep Shiloh, and walks back home without any new ideas.

2. Early on Sunday morning, Marty walks to Judd’s place, determined to tell Judd that he’s not giving Shiloh back.

3. Marty stops in the woods halfway to Judd’s place and witnesses Judd shooting a doe out of season in a meadow.

Chapter 14 Travel:

1. Marty steps out of the woods into the meadow and confronts Judd, stating that he won’t tell the game warden about the deer if Judd lets him keep Shiloh.

2. Judd agrees, as long as Marty will do 20 hours’ worth of odd jobs for Judd at $2 per hour to pay for Shiloh, starting with helping him to drag the deer back to his trailer. They set off.

3. Marty heads home.

Chapter 15 Travel:

1. Every weekday for two weeks, Marty walks to Judd’s trailer and back home to work off his debt for Shiloh.

I can tell that I have not read youth or young adult fiction for quite some time, because my adult brain was not expecting everything to turn out as well as it did in the end. As Literary Luminary, I want to look at the section in which Marty sees Judd shoot the doe, as well as the subsequent confrontation. Naylor does an excellent job of building up the suspense in these scenes so that when the conflict between Marty and Judd comes to a head, we’re just as filled with tension as they are, waiting to see what’s going to happen. Naylor’s description of Marty watching the rabbit (p. 118) has the effect of getting her audience to be still with Marty. She purposefully writes a scene designed to quiet our minds so that the impact of what comes next—the two rifle shots that bring down the deer and the sight of Judd stepping into the meadow to claim his prize—hits us hard. All this time, we’ve been agonizing with Marty about how to find a way to keep Shiloh, and all of a sudden, this opportunity gets dropped into his lap. 

This decision Marty must make begs an interesting question that I’ll pose as Director: If faced with the choice of saving one animal that you care deeply about, or saving many that you’ve never met and will probably rarely encounter, what would you do? What is the “right” thing to do in this scenario? Should Marty look the other way on Judd killing a deer out of season so he can save Shiloh, even though the law states that Judd should be fined $200? Or, should Marty turn Judd in, to save the deer?

Throughout the scene, Naylor shares Marty’s thought process with us, and this issue of “right” and “wrong” is something he’s been tangling with throughout the novel. Marty’s kept Shiloh away from Judd, which is technically wrong according to the laws of property ownership, but Marty feels it’s the right thing to do because Judd abuses his dogs. We see in Chapter 6 that Marty tries to figure out the ethics of the situation by asking Jesus, “ ‘…which you want me to do? Be one hundred percent honest and carry that dog back to Judd so that one of your creatures can be kicked and starved all over again, or keep him here and fatten him up to glorify your creation?’ ” (p. 57). As he asks the question, Marty realizes that if Jesus is as wonderful as they say he is, the question answers itself: a man as loving as Jesus wouldn’t want a dog like Shiloh to be sent back to an owner like Judd (p. 57). Marty’s bothered by the lies he’s telling to cover up keeping Shiloh, but he justifies them as the lesser of two evils until he figures out a way to buy Shiloh from Judd.

Therefore, by the time that we get to the scene in Chapter 14 in which Marty confronts Judd about the doe, then, we know that Marty is willing to do what it takes to protect Shiloh, and he now has leverage over Judd Travers. Marty knows that this could be considered blackmail if Judd accepts the deal. But, Judd being Judd, he won’t let Shiloh go just for that—he wants to sell Shiloh for $40, because he paid $35 and wants to make a profit. Marty doesn’t have the money, but he agrees to work for Judd to pay the $40, and makes Judd put the deal in writing, including Shiloh’s name so there’s no mistaking which dog Marty gets to keep. Throughout this scene, Naylor keeps the suspense level high—we have no idea whether or not Judd will shoot Marty (even Marty comments on this on page 127, as he’s walking home after striking the deal with Judd), and we don’t know whether Marty will win, but we keep rooting for him. Marty’s bravery in this scene comes directly from the love he has for Shiloh and the power he feels from knowing that Judd is in a tight spot.

I’ll end with some parting questions as Director: How do you feel, knowing that Marty has to help Judd hide his illegally shot deer as his first odd job to pay for Shiloh? Is Shiloh worth all of that time and trouble? What do you think about how Judd’s behavior towards Marty changes over the two weeks that Marty works for him? Do you think Judd will treat his dogs better after the conversations he has with Marty? What do you think about Judd giving Marty a dog collar for Shiloh? Do you think Judd and Marty will continue to get along better with each other? Why or why not? Do you feel satisfied with how the book ends?

Shiloh Blog Post Chapters 6 – 10: Illustrator, Researcher, Vocabulary Enricher

Something interesting I’ve discovered as I’ve been reading Shiloh is how timeless the first section of book felt as I read it, while this second section makes the book feel both in the past and in the present. For example, Naylor mentions the term “gunnysack” (a large, roughly woven bag made from burlap—a definition I confirmed as a Vocabulary Enricher, rather than relying merely on the context), which isn’t something we routinely say anymore, because it’s not an item that we use on a daily basis in the 21^st century, so that mention makes the book feel a bit like historical fiction. Naylor also discusses watching TV, though, so we’re left with a very broad range of possibilities for time period.

Naylor gives us exposition about setting in terms of place (Friendly, West Virginia), but she gives fewer clues about whether the book takes place in present day for the year it was published (1991), or whether it is actually set in a different time period. In this, the middle section, we finally get confirmation that the book takes place in the present. In Chapter 7, we meet David Howard (Marty’s best friend) and hear that his house has a room “for his father’s books, with a computer in it” (p. 66), so that confirms the present-day time period. This is in startling contrast to Marty’s admission in the previous chapter that his family doesn’t have enough spare cash to own a phone (another piece of information that makes the novel feel historical)—they have to “ride down to Doc Murphy’s to use his” (p. 58) every time they want to make a phone call.

The juxtaposition of these two statements regarding technology got me thinking about 1991, the year Shiloh was published, and I decided to research how many people had computers and telephones in 1991. In today’s technology-driven society, it’s difficult to imagine a time when it wasn’t strange for a family not to have a telephone or computer in the house, even though those days are in the not-too-distant past.

According to a U.S. Census Bureau study on computer and Internet access, in 1989, 15% of all households in the U.S. had a computer. By 1993, that percentage jumped up to 22.8%, which leads me to believe that in 1991, the number was probably around 18.5%, though this particular study does not have that data. As for landlines, according to data from the World Bank, more than 33 million Americans had a traditional telephone in 1991, whereas only about 7.5 million had a cell phone. Today, for comparison’s sake, more than 300 million Americans have cell phones—wow!

To support my research as an illustrator, I found the following images of what phones and computers looked like in 1991. It’s astonishing to me to think about how much technology permeates our daily lives, even when reading a book that isn’t really about it at all. The world has changed so much so quickly because of these inventions that we take new things for granted and often forget how we used to live life before the tech boom of the 1990s-2000s. It's been refreshing for me to revisit a time when we focused on the relationships we had with the people and the animals in our lives. There was a greater level of personal connection that we are beginning to lose in this digital age in which we now live.

Analogue cordless phone, circa 1991

 

First 2G digital mobile phone by Motorola, released in 1991

IBM personal computer, circa 1989

Shiloh Blog Post Chapters 1 – 5: Summarizer, Connector, Vocabulary Enricher

I’ve chosen to read Shiloh for our literary circle discussions this week. I read it once when I was in elementary school, probably right after it came out, so it’s interesting to reread it and see what pops up from my memory. One thing I definitely didn’t remember was the word “shadbush.” So, to enrich my vocabulary, I decided to investigate the term. “Shadbush” refers to a small tree whose clusters of white flowers bloom early in the spring season. For a more complete description, I encourage you to visit the Chesapeake Bay Field Guide website.

As summarizer, before I explain what happens in the first five chapters, I’ll say that it doesn’t take Phyllis Reynolds Naylor, author of Shiloh, long to get us into her plot. By the third page, we’ve met the main characters: Marty and Shiloh, and by the second chapter, she’s identified the main conflict: Marty wants to keep Shiloh away from his owner. When he’s out shooting one Sunday afternoon near his Friendly, West Virginia house, eleven-year-old Marty Preston meets a dog that decides to follow him home. Marty doesn’t know where the dog (“Shiloh”) came from and wants to take care of it, but his father says no. Dad says he thinks that Shiloh belongs to Judd Travers, a neighbor who has the reputation of being a fast-talking, mean, cheater of a man who kills deer out of season (a very clear and specific characterization from Naylor). Sure enough, when Marty and Dad bring Shiloh back to Judd, he turns out to be Judd’s newest hunting dog. Marty promises to keep an eye out for Shiloh and return him to Judd if he sees Shiloh wandering away from the pack.

When Marty hears that Judd will “whup the daylights out of [Shiloh]” (p. 27) if he runs away again, Marty decides to find a way to buy Shiloh from Judd, but it proves to be a harder task than he thought. He can’t stop thinking about how Shiloh needs his help, he can’t sleep, and he can’t forget what he’s seen and heard about how badly Judd treats his dogs, especially Shiloh. Marty doesn’t know how he’s going to go on, and then he hears a soft noise outside that sounds like Shiloh. Instantly, Marty finds Shiloh outside and spirits him away from the house and hides him in the hills near his house. Marty builds a pen and a lean-to for Shiloh, as a place for him to be a bit protected from the possibility of July rainstorms, and he sneaks food out of the house so that Shiloh won’t be too hungry. Gone is the promise to return Shiloh to Judd—all Marty cares about is protecting Shiloh. Even when Judd visits the Prestons at the end of Chapter 5, his threat to shoot Shiloh if he ever runs away again only strengthens Marty’s resolve that Shiloh should never go back to Judd.

As connector, I can certainly connect to Marty’s passion and concern about keeping Shiloh safe—he may only be eleven, but he has a deep connection to Shiloh that is similar to the love I feel for my children. They are a part of me, and I will do everything in my power to keep them happy, healthy, and safe—I can see the trust in their eyes when they look at me, and I can’t let them down. I know that’s how Marty feels about Shiloh—that’s why he can’t sleep (p. 28), why he gets so angry with Judd’s awful treatment of the dogs (p.35), and why he’s on the verge of tears when he leaves Judd’s house after the first visit (p. 27). In terms of connecting the book to the world, the issue of cruelty to animals that Naylor explores here is certainly not limited to the book or even the United States. Between the news from war-torn countries and the ASPCA commercials, we know that animals are abused and mistreated every day. In fact, Naylor’s description of how little Judd cares for his animals brought those ASPCA images to mind, and I thought how important it is to shine a light on this issue.