John Hershey combines six individual narrative threads to create Hiroshima. These six narratives are rooted around one singular event, the “noiseless flash,” which changed their lives forever. I think Hershey does an excellent job intertwining the narratives to portray the events before, during, and after the atomic bomb explosion. Stories that include multiple narratives can be tricky for readers to understand. The abundance of characters and the events that happen to each individual character can be difficult to follow. Hershey introduces all of the characters with a long connected sentence, telling the reader what each person was doing just before the bomb fell to the ground. Hershey throws the reader into the story right off the bat, excluding any long drawn out history lesson on the war.
I also noticed that he shaped the entire narrative around intricate recollections from the characters, and he weaves these stories with those of the other characters even though they are often unrelated. I think he took great care in shaping these individual narratives and breaking them up in order to be woven more carefully with each other. I found that at the end of each small section, just before he introduces the narrative of another character, he ends on a dramatic detail or some detail that makes the reader curious as to what happens next. I don’t think that these points cut of the narrative at a bad time because Hershey picks pivotal areas that won’t harm the reader’s interpretation of the events but sort of pause one story and begin another weaving them along the way. For example, Hershey writes, “As Mrs. Nakamura started frantically to claw her way toward the baby, she could see or hear nothing of her other children” (13). That is a moment where Hershey leads off and then begins another story and we’re left wondering.
The narrative as a whole is only broken up into four separate sections. For a story this short and the amount of narrative detail, the limited number of chapter interruptions is essential for the flow of the narratives. I can only imagine the lengths Hershey took to create this story. The amount of detail he had to uncover of the six narratives and turn them into one solid narrative must have been a tremendous feat. And to think he created a piece that took up the entire issue of the New Yorker with such detailed and traumatic stories. The stories he researched could have probably consumed many, many books with the amount of information that was available.
Saturday, March 24, 2012
Tuesday, March 20, 2012
My Best Friend's Pap
-Trying on the voice of John Jeremiah Sullivan
When I was in elementary school, my best friend’s grandfather used to drive us home at the end of the day. He stood on the corner across the street from school with his hands in his pockets and a stern look on his face waiting for us. I have to admit he was very intimidating; he was a great grandfather and an all around nice man, but he meant business.
Even though he was in his fifties, he still exercised, drank protein shakes, and he tanned. Boy was he tan. Jordan, my best friend, had pictures of her grandfather’s bodybuilding competitions and a napkin he gave her signed by Frankie Valli. Jordan’s “Pap” looked a lot like Frankie Valli.
Then in 2001, Pap was diagnosed with Amyotrophic Lateral Sclerosis (ALS) also known as Lou Gehrig’s disease. ALS is incurable causing muscle weakness and eventually paralysis. It attacks nerve cells in the brain and spinal cord deteriorating motor neurons. As a result of ALS, the brain can no longer control muscle movements causing the deterioration of the muscles in the body.
He was determined to fight the disease. He kept his job working with the Turtle Creek Mental Health/ Mental Retardation, Inc. finding handicapped individuals jobs, and he worked tirelessly with ALS foundations to help find a cure. Sadly, within two years, Pap passed away from ALS. Even though I was only 12 at the time, I couldn’t believe I had seen a man once so strong become so weak at the hands of a nasty disease. But, he fought it until the end.
When I was in elementary school, my best friend’s grandfather used to drive us home at the end of the day. He stood on the corner across the street from school with his hands in his pockets and a stern look on his face waiting for us. I have to admit he was very intimidating; he was a great grandfather and an all around nice man, but he meant business.
Even though he was in his fifties, he still exercised, drank protein shakes, and he tanned. Boy was he tan. Jordan, my best friend, had pictures of her grandfather’s bodybuilding competitions and a napkin he gave her signed by Frankie Valli. Jordan’s “Pap” looked a lot like Frankie Valli.
Then in 2001, Pap was diagnosed with Amyotrophic Lateral Sclerosis (ALS) also known as Lou Gehrig’s disease. ALS is incurable causing muscle weakness and eventually paralysis. It attacks nerve cells in the brain and spinal cord deteriorating motor neurons. As a result of ALS, the brain can no longer control muscle movements causing the deterioration of the muscles in the body.
He was determined to fight the disease. He kept his job working with the Turtle Creek Mental Health/ Mental Retardation, Inc. finding handicapped individuals jobs, and he worked tirelessly with ALS foundations to help find a cure. Sadly, within two years, Pap passed away from ALS. Even though I was only 12 at the time, I couldn’t believe I had seen a man once so strong become so weak at the hands of a nasty disease. But, he fought it until the end.
Tuesday, March 13, 2012
John and Ida
They met over twenty-five years ago. At first they were acquaintances; her father had him paint the apartments he rented out on Oakland Avenue. He worked fixing copiers, doing plumbing work, painting, and other odd jobs with home repairs. She worked Downtown in finance and accounting. He was four years younger than her. She had met him a few times before because his friend Patsy’s uncle, Salvatore, lived four doors down from the row house she lived in with her parents. He lived in Dormont where he spent most of his childhood. They were both close with Patsy’s family; they just never knew each other.
He had jus t gotten a divorce. His ex-wife and his one-year-old son were living in Michigan just outside of Detroit.
In September of 1986, Patsy’s sister Maria was getting married. They were both going to the wedding. To the mass at St. Regis Church, she wore a shiny black and cobalt blue suit. After that, she went home to change for the reception at St. Valentine’s Hall in Bethel Park. She showed up to the reception in a black strapless sequin dress. This caught his eye. He approached her. You weren’t wearing that in church, he said.
“I would never wear something like this to church.”
She was also wearing a gold ring on her hand. He asked her if that meant anything. Real smooth. She gave him her phone number that night, and they went out on their first date not long after that. She doesn’t remember the exact date, but she knows it was right before her birthday in September. On their first date, they went to South Park Game Preserve. There they walked around feeding ducks, looking at buffalo and peacocks.
Her parents weren’t exactly thrilled about their daughter dating this man. He was young. He had an ex-wife and a son he was so far away from him. He worked odd jobs. He didn’t go to college and he was in over his head in debt. But his father loved her. They got along very well. He was a wonderful man who loved his family. They were together for less than a year when his father had a heart attack. He was in the hospital for weeks and he couldn’t speak. Instead, he drew pictures and wrote words on a notepad. When I saw these pictures over ten years after his death, I saw he drew pictures of my mom, asking for her and wondering where she was. My parents got engaged on Christmas Eve of 1987 about six months after my grandfather Emilio passed away.
About a year and a half later, they got married in September of 1989. It was around the time of their three year anniversary. The mass was held at St. Paul’s Cathedral (where everyone in our family gets baptized, makes their First Holy Communion, and gets married). In total 80s fashion, her dress had long puffy sleeves covered in lace, pearls and sequins. He wore a black tuxedo with a bow tie. Her flowers were red roses and white orchids. He wore a red rose and an orchid on his tuxedo jacket. They went to Hawaii on their honeymoon. And that’s how their story began.
He had jus t gotten a divorce. His ex-wife and his one-year-old son were living in Michigan just outside of Detroit.
In September of 1986, Patsy’s sister Maria was getting married. They were both going to the wedding. To the mass at St. Regis Church, she wore a shiny black and cobalt blue suit. After that, she went home to change for the reception at St. Valentine’s Hall in Bethel Park. She showed up to the reception in a black strapless sequin dress. This caught his eye. He approached her. You weren’t wearing that in church, he said.
“I would never wear something like this to church.”
She was also wearing a gold ring on her hand. He asked her if that meant anything. Real smooth. She gave him her phone number that night, and they went out on their first date not long after that. She doesn’t remember the exact date, but she knows it was right before her birthday in September. On their first date, they went to South Park Game Preserve. There they walked around feeding ducks, looking at buffalo and peacocks.
Her parents weren’t exactly thrilled about their daughter dating this man. He was young. He had an ex-wife and a son he was so far away from him. He worked odd jobs. He didn’t go to college and he was in over his head in debt. But his father loved her. They got along very well. He was a wonderful man who loved his family. They were together for less than a year when his father had a heart attack. He was in the hospital for weeks and he couldn’t speak. Instead, he drew pictures and wrote words on a notepad. When I saw these pictures over ten years after his death, I saw he drew pictures of my mom, asking for her and wondering where she was. My parents got engaged on Christmas Eve of 1987 about six months after my grandfather Emilio passed away.
About a year and a half later, they got married in September of 1989. It was around the time of their three year anniversary. The mass was held at St. Paul’s Cathedral (where everyone in our family gets baptized, makes their First Holy Communion, and gets married). In total 80s fashion, her dress had long puffy sleeves covered in lace, pearls and sequins. He wore a black tuxedo with a bow tie. Her flowers were red roses and white orchids. He wore a red rose and an orchid on his tuxedo jacket. They went to Hawaii on their honeymoon. And that’s how their story began.
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