The Impact of Diction and Syntax on Mood Answers

Read the excerpt from chapter 7 of Obasan by Joy Kogawa.I hurried behind her as she marched ahead to the car."What a conference! You should have been with me, Nomi,” she said. "There was so much to learn. I had no idea how much I still hurt. Just read some of these papers.” She flung open her briefcase and took out a bundle of conference notes and papers as I searched for the car keys."Ever read this?” she asked, punctuating the air with a pamphlet entitled "Racial Discrimination by Orders-in-Council.”

What is diction?

Read the excerpt from chapter 8 of Obasan by Joy Kogawa.Now here I am this autumn morning, five months later, with her heavy package on my lap. Many of the conference papers she showed me last May are here as well as her diary and a bulging manila envelope full of letters. The side seam of the envelope is slightly torn and it bursts apart as I try to take out the contents. The pile cascades over my lap, falling onto the floor and into the plastic beach bottle wastebasket beside me.

Read the paragraph from Violet’s short story.I wandered down the packed hallways of my grandfather’s library. How had he collected so many books? Perhaps he’d gathered them on his travels: Italy and Canada and Prague and Vietnam and Egypt and Iran. One shelf looked as if it had been custom built to house oversized books. The volumes seemed to invite me to come closer. I rolled the ladder to the shelf’s edge and hoisted myself up. There I found books sorted by color, arranged from smallest to largest, glimmering in the light. I realized I had unintentionally held my breath.

Read the excerpt from chapter 7 of Obasan by Joy Kogawa.For the rest of the car ride home I kept quiet while Aunt Emily bulldozed on. I could see that we were in for an evening of marathon talking, whether anyone else felt up to it or not.Even before the supper dishes were cleared away, Aunt Emily was shuffling and sorting documents and conference papers on the kitchen table."Read this, Nomi,” she said from time to time, handing me papers as if they were snapshots. I sometimes managed to catch half a paragraph on a page before she gave me something else. She must have thought I was speed-reading and listening to her at the same time, like switching back and forth between movies on television. A good way to stay agitated."Give you something to chew on,” she said. She was eating a slice of Uncle’s stone bread with a slab of raw onion. You’re the one with the strong teeth, I thought to myself. She did have strong teeth. And a tough digestion.

Which is a mood that an author could create in a text?

What is mood?

Read the excerpt from chapter 8 of Obasan by Joy Kogawa.Obasan is sitting on a mandarin box at my feet winding the twine from Aunt Emily’s package onto a twine ball she keeps in the pantry.Obasan never discards anything. Besides the twine ball, there’s a ball of string full of knots, a number of balls of wool bits, and even short bits of thread twirled around popsicle sticks that are stacked up like soldiers in a black woven x. The twine ball is larger than a baseball and slips off her lap, rolling a short distance along the floor.

What is syntax?

Read the excerpt from chapter 8 of Obasan by Joy Kogawa."Dearest Nesan,” her diary entries begin. The sight of the word "Nesan” cuts into me with a peculiar sensation of pain and tenderness. It means "older sister,” and was what Aunt Emily always called Mother. Grandma also called Mother "Nesan” from time to time, especially if she was talking to Aunt Emily. I remember one time I called Mother "Nesan” and Grandma Kato laughed and laughed.The book feels heavy with voices from the past—a connection to Mother and Grandma Kato I did not know existed.

Which is a way that an author could develop a cheerful mood in a text?

Read the excerpt from chapter 8 of Obasan by Joy Kogawa."Who are the letters from?” I ask loudly.She does not respond. Her face is expressionless. After a while she puts down the magnifying glass."Everyone someday dies,” she says again.By repeating this so often, I suppose she is trying to make realizable what is real. Surely that is task enough for her today. But I ask once more, "Who are the letters from?”She stares steadily at the table. The greater my urgency to know, the thicker her silences have always been. No prodding will elicit clues.Her hand moves on the table like an electrocardiograph needle, delicate and unreadable. Then, with her back bent forward, she stands up and shuffles out of the room.Today is not, I repeat, reprimanding myself—today is not the day for unnecessary questions.

Read the excerpt from chapter 8 of Obasan by Joy Kogawa."Yasashi desho,” Obasan says. She has often spoken of my mother’s "yasashi kokoro,” her tender, kind, and thoughtful heart. She places the picture in my hand. "Here is the best letter. This is the best time. These are the best memories.” When would this be? I turn the photo around to see if there is any identification on the back, but there is none.

Read the excerpt from chapter 8 of Obasan by Joy Kogawa.I can hear the scratch slap of the tree's fingers by the kitchen window this morning. The tree's outline is blurred through the plastic covering the pane. Ever since Obasan’s operation for cataracts, she's lived in a darkened house. The branches of the tree are as elastic as whips in the gusts-slap clatter clatter, insistent as a drummer.

Read the excerpt from Omer’s article on training for a race.I noticed my left sneaker was untied. I bent down and methodically knotted the laces, trying to ignore the other runners corralled into this small waiting area. I heard the blare of the horn, signaling the race would soon begin. The crowd began the slow but charged shuffle toward the start line. The morning air tasted cool and clean, like victory; hadn’t I spent months training for this marathon? I felt in my pocket for my lucky penny, and felt its smooth, worn surface. The familiarity of the token calmed my nerves. I knew I was ready. As the starting point came into sight, the sun’s glare made it appear like a throne ready to be claimed. The crowd and I began to pick up our pace; today, I thought, I would conquer this course.