Blog introduction:
This blog post is a re-genre piece of the short story Bullet in the Brain by Tobias Wolff. Re-genre analysis: Blue Suit Bank Robbers Strike Again At around 1:30 on Saturday, March 5th, Central Bank in New York was robbed by two men in ski masks and blue suits. There is one reported death, a book critic named Anders, who was apparently shot in the head. "I'm not surprised," one witness reported. "I was standing in front of him in line, and he wouldn't keep his mouth shut. It was terrible." Security footage from the bank shows the two men coming in, and one shot Anders after getting into a verbal altercation. The only other injury was to the bank security guard, who was handcuffed and kicked in the back. "I didn't see what went down, but I could hear the moron mouthing off to the robber. If someone puts a fricking gun to your head and tells you to shut up, you shut up," the guard reported. The mother of the victim refused to give a statement, but was willing to hand over a journal written by the deceased. Here is an early entry by the victim. “Heat. A baseball field. Yellow grass, the whirr of insects, myself leaning against a tree as the boys of the neighborhood gather for a pickup game. I look on as the others argue the relative genius of Mantle and Mays. They have been worrying this subject all summer, and it has become tedious to me: an oppression, like the heat. Then the last two boys arrive, Coyle and a cousin of mine from Mississippi. I have never met Coyle's cousin before and will never see him again. He says hi with the rest but takes no further notice of him until they've chosen sides and someone asks the cousin what position he wants to play. "Shortstop," the boy says. "Short's the best position they is." I turn and look at him. I want to hear Coyle's cousin repeat what he's just said, but I knows better than to ask. The others will think I’m being a jerk, ragging the kid for his grammar. But that isn't it, not at all - it's that I was strangely roused, elated, by those final two words, their pure unexpectedness and their music. I takes the field in a trance, repeating them to myself.”
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Elijah CarneyI will use this blog to explore course readings. Archives
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