Model Moon Day Narrative and Analysis

Wednesday, October 3, 2007

Model Moon Day narrative and analysis

Composition students,

    I wrote this hastily, with no native experience of Moon Day. Still I think it's fairly successful.
    Note the short opening sentence, an eye-catcher. Then there's the comic use of "fattening" to modify "mooncakes," which might otherwise be only a dull sentence: "fattening" adds a comic tone/touch.
    Same with "pollution." "Trying to find the moon" is banal; adding "pollution" makes it less so; it gives it a tone and point-of-view.
    Then I add an ironic contrast between myself and the "more sophisticated" Cindy. The irony is that she's NOT more sophisticated. So I mean the opposite of what I say and I want the reader to appreciate the irony.
    After writing about "superstitious things like moon watching," I went back and slightly amplified that phrase, making it more specific, adding the sentence, "Ch'ang-O doesn't exist anyway!" (I could easily have amplified at much greater length, referring to all the details of the myth of Ch'ang-O, but my story would have been too long for my intended purpose.)
    Note the well-timed comic pause after using the word "intelligent" and leading to "fortune teller." That's part of style; knowing what one's purpose is and finding sentence structure to achieve that purpose.
    There's more irony in saying Cindy reasoned better than I. Then there's a transition device by having a parallel structure: "she reasoned better" and "she drove faster." This insures coherence in changing scenes to the fortune teller's place, which I do economically, in the very next paragraph. (In another kind of story, with another purpose, I could have amplified extensively, describing the road trip to the fortune teller; but here I deliberately omit all that, not even mentioning whether they used a motorbike or a car, though "drive" implies a car ["rode" is more commonly used for motorbikes].)
    Regarding diction, one day later, I read my story again and decided that "find out" (one's fortune) was not as well phrased as "learn" (one's fortune) in the phrase, "determined to find out her fortune." Hence I changed it (below).
    Then I used description to make this man come alive. I also added humor by making fun of his serious treatment of what most consider superstition.
    I was on shaky ground in describing his accent and dialect, because I don't know much about it. A Chinese writer could be more specific and subtle here. I just wanted to set an example of how to do it without necessarily saying it's the best way.
    Note how important dialogue is when I first allow the fortune teller to speak. I elaborate with my reaction and Cindy's.
    Then I describe the premises (fortune teller's place), always with a purpose or point of view in mind: details in themselves are not that important; they must cohere with a purpose. Here the purpose is to make fun of the typical fortune teller's mysterious surroundings. A dangling light bulb, especially in orange, always adds to an effect of menace.
    Then I add comic effect and character as well as plot development by making this menacing man into a pitiful old man who just wants to make a living in a harmless way (nobody forces people to go to fortune tellers).
    I then try to wrap things up in an orderly fashion, based on time and place: from home back to home; from the beginning of the Moon Day observance to the end, while referring to ideas already presented in the essay and repeating them at the end, to create a unity of effect; in other words, a focus.
    I considered two changes in the final paragraph. I thought "monkish" was a better adjective for a male than a female (the "I' of the narrative is a woman); but I concluded nonetheless that it was a stronger, more colorful, adjective than the female alternative: nunlike). [Note that even in the above sentence I quickly altered diction or word choice: I had already typed "pondered" but thought "considered" was a more suitable, less intimidating, verb, especially for ESL students.] I also added "jealously" before "wondered," to clarify the speaker's mood: an example of when an adverb is more than just filling.
    The reader feels that every word and detail all contributed to that single effect, or focus.
    As for titles, I considered many, not all of which I liked: "Fortune Like the Moon"; "Cindy's Caper" (chosen for alliteration: C + C); "Very Like the Moon" (alluding to a line in Shakespeare's Hamlet: "very like a whale"); "Man in the Moonlight" (pun on "Man in the Moon" and referring to the fortune teller), and others.
    Sometimes titles come easy; sometimes less so. This was a case of "less so."
    Sometimes a title can come from one's story; sometimes the writer may purposely put a line in a story to justify the title. Other titles come from famous lines from the Bible or poetry.
    In any case, the title should do justice to the text and remain in dialogue with it. I finally hit on a title I'm satisfied with: "Moonshine."
    I like the ambiguity of the title; which refers, of course, to the moonshine of Moon Day; but also to the other meaning of "moonshine": nonsense or foolish talk; which of course would refer to the fortune teller in the story. So the title is a story in itself!

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MOONSHINE

It was Moon Day. I wanted to celebrate the holiday in traditional fashion: eating fattening mooncakes and trying to locate the moon through all the pollution in Tainan County. But my friend, Cindy, was more sophisticated.
    "Why waste time on superstitious things like moon watching?" she chastised. "Ch'ang-O doesn't exist anyway! Why not do something intelligent for a change?" She paused for dramatic effect. "Let's go to a fortune teller."
    Cindy was one year ahead of me in university so she reasoned better than I did. She also drove faster.
    Soon we were facing a tall, slender elderly man, with saucer eyes gazing at us intently who introduced himself simply as Mr. Wang. He then mumbled a few words in Taiwanese we could not exactly make out. Then he greeted us eagerly in Chinese, accented with a regional dialect that marked him as an immigrant from Mainland China. But the pasted smile on his face as he welcomed us quickly vanished as he assumed a more professional style with an abrupt dab of menace in his voice.
    "You willing to risk the danger of having your fortune told?"
    A shiver went down my spine, but Cindy, the rationalist, only nodded in agreement. Meanwhile I surveyed Mr. Wang's dimly-lit premises, which heightened the ghostly effect of an orange bulb dangling from the ceiling by an extension cord.
    The aroma of incense almost stifled me and I noticed a partially-eaten box lunch on an antique mahogany desk, with two roaches nibbling from it. I tugged at Cindy's arm, silently pleading for us to leave. But, rationalist that she was, she was adamant, determined to learn her fortune—for better or worse.
    Mr. Wang invited her to sit down in a wobbly folding chair with a tattered tea-stained cushion on it, then he grasped her right forearm and expectantly rotated her hand so the palm faced him. With exaggerated solemnity, he traced lines in her palm, grunting all the while, as if he were reading messages from another world—or a future time.
    "Not to worry," he smiled. "These lines affect only ten percent of your life." He paused, as if deep in thought. "You have interesting lines—not all of which I can read fluently. I feel like an ESL student reading your palm—like I was reading a second language."
     Mr. Wang continued to explore the geography of Cindy's palm as if he were trekking through darkest Africa.
    "I suspect your future pertains to a foreign land—maybe England or America. Who knows for sure?
    "Ah, yes. I see a marriage in the not-so-distant future, to a good-looking man. And this line here"—he traced a line in Cindy's palm with a long bony forefinger—"shows that you will bear children with this man."
     Abruptly, Mr. Wang dropped Cindy's hand and seemed to totter on his feet.
    "But I grow faint. The messages are too strong for me at the moment. I must rest. I'm an old man. I can't read as easily as I used to when I was your age. Please allow me to sit down. Luckily, with the money you pay me, I'll be able to visit the doctor down the block and he can restore my vitality, part of which I lost reading your palm."
    He smiled a fatherly smile, not seeming menacing at all anymore—just a common and pitiful poseur. More out of sympathy than satisfaction, Cindy took a couple of NT dollars from her purse and handed them to the now weary reader of palms.
    When he saw the money, Mr. Wang's eyes lit up and he reached for my forearm too—as if suddenly revitalized by a blood transfusion. But I had a foresight that Mr. Wang seemed to lack, and I kept both arms firmly buried in the pockets of my light evening jacket.
    Realizing his profit margin that evening was not to grow much higher, Mr. Wang shot a glance at the wall clock—an ancient timepiece, with Roman numerals to mark the time.
    It was clear he was impatient for us to leave. Taking the hint, we bid our farewells and gladly hastened out into the cool autumnal air.
    After that painful experience, I pleaded with Cindy for us to observe the holiday in more traditional fashion, and for the two of us to watch the moon together—perhaps sharing a watermelon drink. But she frowned on such superstitious behavior.
    "Besides," she added with a smile, "I've got to run home and figure out who's that handsome man Mr. Wang predicted I would bear children with. I've got several boyfriends at the moment, but none of them seem to fit the bill."
    She smiled. I frowned, thinking of Cindy's many boyfriends and my lack of any. Feeling abandoned, I despondently planned to return to my monkish dorm and entertain myself with a box of Ramen noodles and the soundtrack from Titanic, jealously wondering what romance Cindy had in store for her.