Hippopotamus Facts

With a broad mouth, a hairless body, and a set of semi-aquatic habits, the common hippopotamus (Hippopotamus amphibius) has always struck humans as vaguely comical creatures. Found only in sub-Saharan Africa, a hippo in the wild can be almost as dangerous (and unpredictable) as a tiger or hyena. Fast Facts: Hippopotamus Scientific Name: Hippopotamus amphibiusCommon Name: Common hippopotamusBasic Animal Group: MammalSize: 11–17 feetWeight: 5500 pounds (female), 6600 pounds (male)Lifespan: 35–50 yearsDiet:  HerbivoreHabitat: Sub-saharan AfricaPopulation: 115,000–130,000Conservation Status: Vulnerable Description Hippos arent the worlds largest land mammals—that honor belongs, by a hair, to the largest breeds of elephants and rhinoceroses—but they come pretty close. The biggest male hippos can approach three tons and 17 feet, and apparently, never stop growing throughout their 50-year life span. The females are a few hundred pounds lighter, but every bit as menacing, especially when defending their young. Hippopotamuses have very little body hair—a trait that puts them in the company of humans, whales, and a handful of other mammals. Hippos have hair only around their mouths and on the tips of their tails. To make up for this deficit, hippos do have extremely thick skin, consisting of about two inches of the epidermis and only a thin layer of underlying fat—theres not much need to conserve heat in the wilds of equatorial Africa. Hippos do, however, have very delicate skin that needs to be protected from the harsh sun. The hippo produces its own natural sunscreen—a substance called blood sweat or red sweat, it consists of red and orange acids that absorb ultraviolet light and inhibit the growth of bacteria. This has led to the widespread myth that hippos sweat blood; in fact, these mammals dont possess any sweat glands at all, which would be superfluous considering their semi-aquatic lifestyle. Many animals, including humans, are sexually dimorphic—the males tend to be larger than the females (or vice-versa), and there are other ways, besides directly examining the genitals, to distinguish between the two sexes. A male hippo, though, looks pretty much exactly like a female hippo, except that males are 10 percent heavier than females. The inability to easily tell whether a particular animal is male or female makes it difficult for researchers in the field to investigate the social life of a lounging herd of hippos. Wikimedia Commons Species While there is only one hippopotamus species—Hippopotamus amphibius—researchers recognize five different subspecies, corresponding to the parts of Africa where these mammals live. H. amphibius amphibius, also known as the Nile hippopotamus or the great northern hippopotamus, lives in Mozambique and Tanzania;H. amphibius kiboko, the East African hippopotamus, lives in Kenya and Somalia;H. amphibius capensis, the South African hippo or the Cape hippo, extends from Zambia to South Africa;H. amphibius tchadensis, the West African or Chad hippo, lives in (you guessed it) western Africa and Chad; and the Angola hippopotamus; andH. amphibius constrictus, the Angola hippo, is restricted to Angola, Congo, and Namibia. The name hippopotamus derives from Greek—a combination of hippo, meaning horse, and potamus, meaning river. Of course, this mammal coexisted with human populations of Africa for thousands of years before the Greeks ever laid eyes on it, and is known by various extant tribes as the mvuvu, kiboko, timondo, and dozens of other local variants. There is no right or wrong way to pluralize hippopotamus: some people prefer hippopotamuses, others like hippopotami, but you should always say hippos rather than hippi. Groups of hippopotamuses (or hippopotami) are called herds, dales, pods, or bloats. Habitat and Range Hippos spend most of each day in shallow water, emerging at night to travel to hippo lawns, grassy areas where they graze. Grazing only at night allows them to keep their skins moist and out of the African sun. When theyre not grazing on grass—which at night takes them into the African lowlands several miles away from the water and for periods of five or six hours at a stretch—hippos prefer to spend their time fully or partially submerged in freshwater lakes and rivers, and occasionally even in saltwater estuaries. Even at night, some hippos remain in the water, in essence taking turns at the hippo lawns. Diet Hippos eat between 65–100 pounds of grass and foliage each night. Somewhat confusingly, hippos are classified as pseudoruminants—theyre equipped with multiple-chambered stomachs, like cows, but they do not chew a cud (which, considering the huge size of their jaws, would make for a pretty comical sight). Fermentation takes place primarily in their fore-stomachs. A hippo has an enormous mouth and it can open up to a whopping 150-degree angle. Their diets certainly have something to do with it—a two-ton mammal has to eat a lot of food to sustain its metabolism. But sexual selection also plays a major role: Opening ones mouth very widely is a good way to impress females (and deter competing males) during mating season, the same reason that males are equipped with such enormous incisors, which otherwise would make no sense given their vegetarian menus. Hippos dont use their incisors to eat; they pluck plant parts with their lips and chew on them with their molars. A hippo can chomp down on branches and leaves with a force of about 2,000 pounds per square inch, enough to cleave a luckless tourist in half (which occasionally happens during unsupervised safaris). By way of comparison, a healthy human male has a bite force of about 200 PSI, and a full-grown saltwater crocodile tilts the dials at 4,000 PSI. Behavior If you ignore the difference in size, hippopotamuses may be the closest thing to amphibians in the mammal kingdom.  In the water, hippos live in loose polygynous groups made up mostly of females with their offspring, one territorial male and several unallied bachelors: The alpha male has a section of beach or lake edge for a territory. Hippopotamuses have sex in the water—the natural buoyancy helps to protect the females from the suffocating weight of the males—fight in the water, and even give birth in the water. Amazingly, a hippo can even sleep underwater, as its autonomic nervous system prompts it to float to the surface every few minutes and take a gulp of air. The main problem with a semi-aquatic African habitat, of course, is that hippos have to share their homes with crocodiles, which occasionally pick off smaller newborns unable to defend themselves. Although male hippos do have territories, and they squabble a bit, that is usually restricted to roaring vocalizations and ritual. The only real battles are when a bachelor male challenges a territorial male for rights over his patch and harem. Reproduction and Offspring Hippopotamuses are polygynous: One bull mates with multiple cows in his territorial/social group. Hippo females usually mate once every two years, and the bull mates with whichever cows are in heat. Although mating can occur throughout the year, conception only occurs from February to August. The gestation period lasts nearly a year, with births taking place between October and April. Hippos only give birth to one calf at a time; calves weigh 50–120 pounds at birth and are adapted to underwater nursing.   Juvenile hippos stay with their mothers and are reliant on mothers milk for nearly a year (324 days). Female juveniles remain in their mothers group, while males leave after they are sexually mature, about three and a half years. WILLIAM WEST/Getty Images  Ã‚   Evolutionary History Unlike the case with rhinoceroses and elephants, the evolutionary tree of hippopotamuses is rooted in mystery. Modern hippos shared a last common ancestor, or concestor, with modern whales, and this presumed species lived in Eurasia about 60 million years ago, only five million years after the dinosaurs had gone extinct. Still, there are tens of millions of years bearing little or no fossil evidence, spanning most of the Cenozoic Era, until the first identifiable hippopotamids like Anthracotherium and Kenyapotamus appear on the scene. The branch leading to the modern genus of hippopotamus split off from the branch leading to the pygmy hippopotamus (genus Choeropsis) less than 10 million years ago. The pygmy hippopotamus of western Africa weighs less than 500 pounds but otherwise looks uncannily like a full-sized hippo. Conservation Status The Internal Union for the Conservation of Nature estimates that there are 115,000–130,000 hippos in central and southern Africa, a sharp drop from their census numbers in prehistoric times; they classify hippos as vulnerable, experiencing a continuing decline in area, extent, and quality of habitat. Threats Hippopotamuses live exclusively in sub-Saharan Africa (though they once had a more widespread distribution). Their numbers have declined most precipitously in the Congo in central Africa, where poachers and hungry soldiers have left only about 1,000 hippos standing out of a previous population of almost 30,000. Unlike elephants, which are valued for their ivory, hippos dont have much to offer traders, with the exception of their enormous teeth—which are sometimes sold as ivory substitutes. Another direct threat to the hippopotamus is the loss of habitat. Hippos need water, at least mudholes, all year round to take care of their skin; but they also need grazing lands, and those patches are in danger of disappearing as a result of climate-change-driven desertification. Sources Barklow, William E. Amphibious Communication with Sound in Hippos, Hippopotamus Amphibius. Animal Behaviour 68.5 (2004): 1125–32. Print.Eltringham, S. Keith. 3.2: The Common Hippopotamus (Hippopotamus Amphibius). Pigs, Peccaries, and Hippos: Status Survey and Conservation Action Plan. Ed. Oliver, William L.R. Gland, Switzerland: International Union for Conservation of Nature and Natural Resouces, 1993. Print.Lewison, R. and J. Pluhà ¡cek. Hippopotamus amphibius. The IUCN Red List of Threatened Species.e.T10103A18567364, 2017.  Walzer, Chris, and Gabrielle Stalder. Chapter 59 - Hippopotamidae (Hippopotamus). Fowlers Zoo and Wild Animal Medicine, Volume 8. Eds. Miller, R. Eric and Murray E. Fowler. St. Louis: W.B. Saunders, 2015. 584–92. Print.

Richard Van Camp s The Night Charles Bukowski Died

When defining the term ‘manhood’, many people may use terms such as courage, strength, or bravery. Throughout history there have been many pressures on men to be as stereotypically manly as possible. If men don’t conform to those stereotypes, they may be looked down upon by society as a whole. Richard Van Camp’s short story ‘The Night Charles Bukowski Died’ is a prime example of the dangers of nonconformity to stereotypically manly traits. The story is an intense first person stream of consciousness from the point of view of an unnamed narrator that follows the narrator and three of his peers: Mikey, Jason, and Scott. The use of metaphor, point of view, and setting in â€Å"The Night Charles Bukowski Died† exposes how stereotypical expectations of manhood can lead to dangerous situations not only physically, but also socially and emotionally. Van Camp makes use of metaphor to compare three distinct situations in the story relating to manhood to animals. When Jason and the narrator are encouraging Mikey to be strong, the narrator tells a brief story of an elder who was courageous enough to stand between a grizzly bear and his grandson with just an ax and an attitude of surrender being completely out of the question (33). In this situation, the narrator is doing his best to instill a fighting attitude in Mikey instead of just letting him accept that Scott is bullying him. Later in the story as the narrator, Jason, and Mikey are about to beat up Scott, the narrator recalls â€Å"a lion

Faulkner’s and Morrison’s Notions of Parenting Free Essays

string(70) " his own frustration at the feebleness and insubstantiality of words\." In literature of fictional realism, the difficulty of storytelling often lies in creating a believable atmosphere, in order for the reader to identify with the characters and surroundings. The theme and plot may well be stylish and inspirational, but without plausible characters or a practical setting, the atmosphere of suspended belief the author is striving for can be marred by the simple obscurity of the key elements of character development, functional setting, and writing style appropriate to the story itself. If an author is skilled enough to successfully employ these crucial elements, and have a solid story to boot, then great writing is created. We will write a custom essay sample on Faulkner’s and Morrison’s Notions of Parenting or any similar topic only for you Order Now Such is the case with William Faulkner and Toni Morrison. Faulkner’s novel As I Lay Dying and Morrison’s Pulitzer- and Nobel-prize winning novel Beloved express the damage that can be caused through either excess of devotion or indifferent neglect of the respective parent. Both writers maintain focus on the development of the characters, create an active and believable setting, and employ appropriate writing styles to successfully convey their social commentaries. In As I Lay Dying, Faulkner introduces his characters, the Bundren family, as simple country folk faced with grave circumstances. Addie, the mother of the family, is on her deathbed, and not much longer for the world. The household is in a state of despair, performing their perfunctory duties, but with a pronounced lack of enthusiasm. Anse, worrying himself on the front porch, puts it simply after telling his son Vardaman to wash his hands: â€Å"But I just cant seem to get no heart in it,† (Faulkner, 38). Neither Anse nor any other members of the household seem to have any clue as to how to react to the forthcoming tragedy, outside of dispensing their feeble grasp of pathos. Even Tull, the Bundrens’ nearby neighbor, comments on Anse in pity: â€Å"†¦the only burden Anse Bundren’s ever had is himself†¦I think to myself he aint that less of a man or he couldn’t a bore himself this long. † (Faulkner, 73). This simple statement by Tull is a testimony to Anse’s burden as a father and husband. Anse recognizes his failings as both patraiarch and devoted husband; it is that weight that ignites a sudden surge of faithfulness to his wife and urges him upon the journey to respect her last wishes of a burial in Jefferson. Faulkner further establishes the Bundrens as incapable of grasping appropriateness as Cash stands outside of his mother’s window, in her full view, nailing and sawing together the coffin in which she will be laid to rest. The irony is that Addie wants to see it being constructed: â€Å"[Addie was] Lying there with her head propped up so she could watch Cash building the coffin,† (Faulkner, 23). Faulkner is commenting not only on the family’s dim grasp of appropriateness, but on the mother’s part as well, and the reader is left to wonder the reasoning behind Addie’s decision to watch her son build her coffin. In this light, Addie can seem cold towards her children, in that she is looming over Cash’s shoulder as he goes about the grim task of constructing his dying mother’s coffin. In actuality, Addie holds her son in reverence and is transmitting that care using the only method she was taught, by merely paying attention to him. Looking at the characters individually in order to circumscribe a mediocre upbringing, Faulkner’s careful construction of the characters implies the damage the parents have inflicted by their relative indifference. Vardaman remains in a state of reluctance and confusion, simply because no one in the family, least of all the parents, takes the time to fully explain the circumstances. He cannot grasp death’s finality and begins to panic when his mother is placed into the coffin post-mortem: â€Å"Are you going to nail it shut, Cash? Nail it? Nail it? † (Faulkner, 65). His incredulity incites him to action, and the episode spins into Vardaman’s notion to drill holes into the coffin so that she might breathe. Unfortunately, Vardaman misjudges the body’s position and â€Å"When they taken the lid off they found that two of [the drill-holes] had bored on into her face,† (73). The whole of the scene focuses on the fact that Vardaman was acting out of concern and love for his mother, but with disastrous results. This is a vehicle Faulkner employs throughout the novel, that bad ideas are often accompanied by good intentions, which re-emphasizes the tacit misunderstanding of a sound family dynamic. There is an abject, obscure devotion, but the family, including Addie, has had an impossible time of setting that devotion in concrete terms. But it is Faulkner’s use of language to skillfully transition into Addie’s sole monologue that explicates his willingness to peg complex irony into an otherwise straightforward novel. Faulkner utilizes the family’s inability to communicate as a launching point for Addie’s monologue, which centers on the idea that words are often lacking in function. Addie represents Faulkner’s commendable language skills by evoking great sorrow in a single stroke. While previous monologues of other characters create a mosaic of separate sadnesses, it is through Addie that the reader is pulled into pointed and exacted depths of human misery. Moreover, her frank manner of speech serves Faulkner’s purpose of cold accuracy as Addie despairs in her position of responsibility she never wanted nor feel she deserves: â€Å"I knew that that word [love] was like the others; just a shape to fill a lack; that when the right time came, you wouldn’t need a word for that anymore than for pride or fear†, (Faulkner, 172). Devin Mckernan, in his article Conflict of the Feminine in As I Lay Dying, comments on this move by Faulkner: â€Å"That this would be Faulkner’s take on language is obviously ironic, as he depends on his words to not only live but perpetuate his own concepts and beliefs,† (9). Addie’s statement of words being insufficient to fill a particular void is Faulkner’s method of projecting his own frustration at the feebleness and insubstantiality of words. You read "Faulkner’s and Morrison’s Notions of Parenting" in category "Papers" Addie summarizes the futility of spoken words in situations where speech is neither necessary nor fulfilling of any definitive purpose. So automatically her lack of faith in the communication of words is relayed to her children, whom she neglects to communicate effectively with, and Vardaman’s vacancy, Jewel’s bitterness, and Dewey Dell’s airiness reflect Addie’s poor maternal instincts. Too, she is objecting her husband Anse’s reference to ‘love’. For Addie, as for Faulkner, the conveyance of deep-felt emotions or thoughts or ideas or beliefs cannot be hammered down in such abstract terminology; words such as ‘love’ and ‘pride’ are both ambiguous and subjective, hence meaningless. This outlook proves Addie a failed mother and a bitter wife, which is transmuted upon the family and reflects in their dim sense of family. Faulkner’s tact lies in the brevity of Addie’s monologue to express Addie’s resentment of words of feeling: â€Å"†¦sin and love and fear are just sounds that people who have never sinned nor loved nor feared have for what they never had and cannot have until they forget the words,† (174). Clearly, the language is disparaging of the abstract nature of words, but subtly Faulkner is urging the reader to think for himself and what those abstract words mean to each individual, or if they should have a meaning attached to them in the first place. There still remains the implied love that Anse has for his family. After Cash breaks his leg, Anse comes up with the idea of setting the leg into cement as a remedy. This episode is the most profound example of Anse’s poor fathering yet, and the fact that he does not realize the damage being done until a neighbor points out the worsening injury is further evidence of Faulkner desiring his audience to grasp the absoluteness of parental failing: â€Å"Cash’s leg and foot turned black†¦ ‘Didn’t none of you have more sense than that? ’ Mr. Gillespie said,† (Faulkner, 224). Here is the penultimate example of Anse impacting his children out of ignorance, but not for lack of caring. It must be noted that Faulkner still implies a general air of tenderness warmth as Anse â€Å"just aimed to help [Cash],† (ibid), but without the common sense to do anything but the first hare-brained idea he could muster. This scene is also an example of Faulkner’s use of a dynamic setting to deliver the theme of the husband finally finding devotion enough for his wife, but, like Addie, viewing the children as burdensome. For Faulkner, Yoknapatawpha county and its rural Mississippi surroundings provide the requisite set of trials and misfortunes the Bundrens must overcome to deliver Addie safely to Jefferson. On the way they encounter a fierce river that drowns their mule team, providing the first example of the roughness of the terrain as a force to be reckoned with: â€Å"†¦I see the mules come rolling up slow up out of the water, their legs spraddled stiff like they had balked upside down†¦,† (Faulkner, 154). This episode still outlines a familial love between the characters, because it was Anse’s bull-headed devotion to Addie’s dying wish of burial in Jefferson that made the sojourn necessary in the first place, and come what may he would deliver her no matter how rough the road gets, and in spite of his bitterness towards his family. Faulkner weaves the setting further into his tale by making the novel one of necessary travel. As stated earlier, the primary goal of the Bundrens is to deliver Addie to her final resting place in Jefferson. The gathering rain, the swollen, mule-drowning river, and the instance of Cash’s broken leg all provide Faulkner with ample opportunity to make the setting as threatening as Anse’s stubborn devotion. The risks run by the family are outweighed by Anse’s final attempt to do right by Addie, a fact to which Anse is either oblivious or indifferent. Faulkner succeeds in his goal to incorporate as much of the setting to drive his novel and further express the mishaps of Anse’s bumbling paternal figure. As I Lay Dying is regarded as a giant of literary fiction, encompassing stout and functional characters, a dynamic and threatening setting, and a style of versification as subtle as it is simple to relay the message of parental ignorance and neglect. And Toni Morrison, in her novel Beloved, is equally successful in her characterizations, her setting, and her expressive language, but to deliver a message of hope from the most down-trodden, the ex-slaves of post-Civil war society. Morrison rides the road opposite Faulkner, ensuring the proper level of complexity in her characters, taming her setting to nurture as well as inflict tragedy, and designing her language on a more intricate level. Morrison’s characters are not permitted the lack of intimacy like the Bundren family. Sethe, the matriarchal central figure of the story, operates on a far deeper and more complex level than the sum total of the Bundrens combined. She is strong-willed yet vulnerable, fierce yet devoted, at times simple and straightforward in thought, and at other times profound and insightful. In the opening scene, Paul D comments to himself on the nature of Sethe â€Å"†¦the one with iron eyes and backbone to match,† (Morrison, 9). In Sethe, the reader is given a strong character who is also burdened with her charges, Denver and Beloved. But Sethe differs from Anse in her willingness to accept that burden, accept her children and try to raise them up correctly, insofar as her past and her present will allow her. Morrison takes care to create Sethe as a proper mother figure, weaving into her narrative the harrowing story of Sethe’s escape from Sweet Home, integrating Denver’s birth on a grounded rowboat, and illustrating the automatic response of maternal care for Beloved upon Beloved’s entrance into the novel. These two very human flaws are central for Sethe’s internal struggles. She holds her head high in pride, as an escaped ex-slave who has (mostly) succeeded in putting her grim past behind her: â€Å"No more running-from nothing. I will never run from another thing on this earth,† (Morrison, 15). This early declaration from Sethe provides the context for the reader to understand her position; that as a mother escaping from slavery’s treachery caused her to duck and run, but as a woman having overcome that trial she is in firm refusal to let any further hardships force her to turn tail and bail. So it is the shame of having to run, as necessary as that escape was, coupled with the pride of having survived the grisly cruelty of slavery that constitutes much of Sethe’s psychological makeup. This past, however, will lead Sethe down a road of what can be viewed as either temporary psychosis or the pinnacle of devoted motherhood. In one of the most crucial scenes of the novel, the slavehunters have discovered Sethe and her children hiding out in a shed at the back of 124. Sethe, well aware of the inhumanity of the men surrounding her, slays her child, cutting its throat. When the men enter, they find Sethe â€Å"holding a blood-soaked child to her chest with one hand and an infant by the heels in the other,† (Morrison, 149). The other infant is Denver, whom Stamp Paid saves from â€Å"the arch of its mother’s swing,† (ibid). At first glance, this scenario seems strikingly cruel, but Sethe’s personal history as a slave, and therefore her knowledge of its terrors, drives her to commit the unspeakable infanticide: in Sethe’s mind, she had no choice but to save her children from the horrendous fate of slavery by murdering them. This episode portrays the duality of Sethe’s unfortunate past as always having an effect on her well-being and that of her children; she is devoted as a mother, but so much so that she assumes her child’s immediate death is preferable to the inhumanities of slavery. For Morrison, Paul D represents an odd secondary paternal figure, that of the bedraggled former slave male willing to sacrifice his own pride and paset at the chance of a content â€Å"normal† life with Sethe. But this life includes Denver, and from the outset Paul D is aware of Denver’s resentment towards him, not necessarily as a father figure, but as a stranger and a threat to the relationship between Denver and Sethe. Paul D is Morrison’s definintion of an aloof father, aware of his conspicuousness to Denver, and Denver believing that he has no intention of attempting the role of father. Midway through the novel, the reader encounters a crucial moment, as Paul D has been seduced and taken by Beloved, but he is willing to tell Sethe the truth. Paul D finally musters the courage to tell her of his infidelity, and Morrison is sure to highlight Sethe’s courage: â€Å"†¦already ready to accept, release or excuse an in-need-or-trouble man†¦because she didn’t believe any of them†¦ could measure up,† (Morrison, 128). In this statement, Morrison portrays Sethe as she has been from the outset of the story, iron-willed and accustomed well enough to disappointment than to let some wild man from her distant past ruin her by shucking off and discarding her. This outlook is due to Morrison’s extensive development of her character, making Sethe that much more plausible, in the sense that her disturbing past bears down so heavily on her present decision. The established mindset of overcoming any difficulty sets her jaw before she even knows what the issue is that Paul D is referring to. Too, there is an expectant despair in the statement, since Sethe’s past is so loaded with tragedy that she is reluctant to believe anything else is possible. This theme, the inability to completely conquer one’s own past demons, will further define Morrison’s complexity in regard to Sethe and Paul D’s incompatibility as a functional parental pair. Sethe and Paul D are strong central characters but are reluctant to revisit the mutual history that has so bound them, even in the light of a functional and content relationship. As stated by Arlene R. Keizer, â€Å"†¦the knowledge [from Sethe’s and Paul D’s slavery history] that might sustain them spiritually is consigned to the same forbidden area as the knowledge that might destroy them,† (Keizer, 2). Keizer touches on two main points that prove Sethe and Paul D inaccessible as parental figures: one, their shared history is too violent to revisit, hence any former knowledge of upbringing is null and void; and two, this forbidden area constitutes a large portion of their personalities, so any parenting they might attempt would only be a partial reflection of the whole person. Morrison ensures that the past setting of her characters binds them as strong as the present setting. The span of years passed in degradation and submission still wound and hinder both Sethe’s and Paul D’s further attempts to encompass a functional family life. Here a key difference arises between Morrison and Faulkner. Faulkner’s setting is present-focused, concentrating on the immediate actions and linear motion of the story to carry his failed parent theme. His characters can’t see but the road ahead of them, and plod along with a dim view of what is and what still might be, with little to no reference to any previous tragedy. The Bundrens’ past is reflected upon briefly, but merely in passing and without the gravity and great triumph intermingled with tragedy that Morrison employs. Morrison establishes the past as vital to the characters’ growth or retardation, where the strengths and weaknesses are exposed fully in their profound self-reflections, and their past will ultimately haunt them, especially Sethe and Paul D crippling their abilities as parental figures. Often enough, the characters have found methods and means to dissuade the past from surfacing too much, as when Sethe rubs Paul D’s knee, likening the soothing repetitive action to kneading flour into dough: â€Å"Working, working dough. Nothing better than that to start the day’s serious work of beating back the past,† (Morrison, 73). Here, the reader is drawn back to the fact that a collective past such as Sethe’s and Paul D’s must be confronted daily and fiercely, lest the despair it might breed ruin their lives and all that they have worked for. But it is the physical manifestation of Beloved and her move into 124 that wreaks the most havoc, and attempts to crush the semblance of a family Sethe and Paul D were attempting to find. Beloved’s entrance into the novel signifies dual emotions for Sethe, particularly since the longer Beloved lingers, the more willing Sethe is to please and obey her. Beloved completed Sethe in a way that neither Denver nor Paul D could. Sethe becomes doting, gradually sacrificing herself as Beloved grows fatter while â€Å"Sethe pleaded for forgiveness, counting, listing again and again her reasons,† (Morrison, 242). Convinced that Beloved is actually the spirit of her murdered daughter, Sethe is driven to madness by outpouring the devotion she robbed herself of with Beloved’s murder. it is unclear whether or not Beloved is truly the spirit of the child she has slain, but the representation of Sethe’s morbid past is definitely represented. As Jean Wyatt comments, â€Å"Beloved [is] able to articulate infantile feelings that ordinarily remain unspoken,† (Wyatt, 231). Wyatt’s statement encompasses the fullness of the problem. In the literal sense, the reader is drawn to the fact that adult Beloved can speak fully of the murder and articulate her resentment, her bitterness, and demand reasoning from Sethe, which gradually breaks Sethe down into madness. Figuratively, Beloved’s communication serve as a continous reminder of Sethe’s most profound and secret mistake of murdering her daughter. Beloved is a cruel and vindictive spirit, prying Sethe from the care of Denver without Sethe’s full awareness, and capitalizing on Sethe’s regret to the point of Sethe being driven mad. At this point in the novel, a drastic change occurs in Denver. Sethe now dotes upon Beloved incessantly, to the point that Sethe’s health begins to fail and she is driven further into a harmful obsession for Beloved’s well-being. This incites Denver to action, and through her despairing over her mother, Denver dives headlong into maturity, going about town asking for help in the exorcising of Beloved’s malignant spirit. The town gathers and amidst Sethe’s mistaking Mr. Bodwin for Schoolteacher and Sethe’s subsequent attempt to kill him, Beloved vanishes. This episode is Morrison’s most profound irony regarding Sethe as the maternal figure; that by neglecting Denver in favor of Beloved, Denver blooms into a fully grown woman, and succeeds in saving her mother from the terrible spirit of Beloved. The metaphor of the past as a force that requires â€Å"beating back† is crucial also to understanding Morrison’s method of incorporating figurative speech into her novel; the text is rife with similes, metaphors, and euphemisms: â€Å"†¦when trouble rode bareback among them.. or when Amy refers to the whip scars on Sethe’s back as â€Å" a chokecherry tree† (Morrison, 249, 79). These metaphors are Morrison’s most powerful vehicle in delivering her message of hope, where trouble becomes a beast to be tamed and the cruel scars of Sethe’s past are likened to the pleasing image of a tree. It is this language that separates Morrison from Faulkner the most, since Faulkner maintains simple language for a simple people, while Morrison enriches her characters with complex metaphors to fully grasp the potency of those insubstantial words that ever fail to convey a complete meaning. Both Beloved and As I Lay Dying incorporate the three elements of character development, realistic setting, and a sound approach to language use in order to convey their separate messages. Faulkner proves Anse’s and Addie’s failed parenting through his simple-minded but plausible country folks, the fierce and dynamic setting they work within, and the unsophisticated language and writing that epitomizes the questionable decisions and motivations of the parents. Morrison achieves a similar end as her parental characters operate on a more complex thought level, with all the restraints and reassurances of the past. Too, her setting revolves around both the present and the past to create an expansive environment to learn and grow from, and her use of the higher language of metaphor and her final ironic twist implies a mental and spiritual depth that Faulkner’s Bundren family never attains. How to cite Faulkner’s and Morrison’s Notions of Parenting, Papers