Contemporary Issues in Criminology

Contemporary Issues in Criminology Critically discuss its theoretical underpinnings and evaluate whether this theoretical approach serves as a useful explanation of criminal behavior in modern Britain. The idea of cultural criminology indicates both exact viewpoints and extensive orientations that have come forward in criminology, sociology, and criminal justice over the past few years. More distinctively, cultural criminology stands for a perception performed by Ferrell Sanders (1995), and equally in employment by Redhead (1995) and others (Kane 1998) interlinks prà ©cised academic threads to discover the meeting of cultural and criminal procedures in current social life. Cultural criminology sees the sights of the numerous traditions in which cultural dynamics interlink with the performances of crime and crime control in contemporary social arrangement; put in a different way, cultural criminology lays emphasis on the centrality of meaning and demonstration in the structure of crime as temporary occasion, sub cultural effort, and social issue. From this view, the suitable topic material of criminology goes beyond traditional ideas of crime and crime causation to contain images of illegal behavior and representative displays of law enforcement; accepted culture constructions of crime and criminal act; and the mutual sentiment that animate criminal events, awareness of criminal risk, and public labors at crime control. This widespread cultural focal point, cultural criminologists argue, permits academics and the public identical to better appreciate crime as significant human activity, and to break through more intensely the contested politics of crime control. At a basic stage cultural criminology incorporates in this way the imminent of sociological criminology with the directions on the way to the representation and mode accessible by the field of cultural studies. Inside this extensive union of the criminological and the cultural, though, cultural criminology has come out from a quite more multifaceted co-evolution of sociology, criminology, and cultural analysis. An essential first point in this emergence is the job of academics related with the Birmingham School of cultural studies, the National Deviancy Conference, and the â€Å"new criminology† in Great Britain throughout the 1970s. Reconceptualizing the character of modern power, these academics discovered the cultural and ideological extents of social class, observed relaxation worlds and prohibited subcultures as sites of stylized conflict and alternative sense, and investigated the mediated ideologies motivating social and lawful control. Any regulation that is living and affluent is a topic to ordinary processes of regeneration and refreshment. Criminology is the alike. It has had its humanist Marxist, feminist, and rationalist, between other reappearances and is presently bein g delighted to one more ‘paradigm shift’ in the shape of a self-styled ‘cultural criminology’. A current unique issue is Theoretical Criminology (2004), which was dedicated to the appearance and predictions of this new kid on the rational block. According to Hayward and Young’s opening essay of the particular topic, cultural criminology is: ‘the placing of crime and its control in the background of culture; that is, observing both crime and the organization of control as cultural products –as inspired creations. (Hayward and Young 2004: 259). The latest criminology’s focal point on top of all on the method in which human actors generate meaning and try to find to use this diagnostic focal point to discover the attractions of disobedience or rule contravention activity (ibid.: 260, 266). Casting its academic custom back to 1960’s radicalism and the concentration to strangers and unusual subcultures towards which that radical ism leaned in criminological job. Certainly cultural criminology describes it self as, and revels in, working ‘at the edges of ‘conventional criminology, for two purposes, firstly, because ‘it is here, in these forgotten gaps that the feature of crime so often opens out, and secondly for the reason that conventional criminology is conquered by ‘managerial rationalization and statistical difficulty. Certainly, whether criminology actually does present a new rational attempt rather than a reasonable amplification of earlier work on unusual subcultures is it self arguable –admirable of a split paper and an appropriate chronological likeness. There are connections between crime and culture. Criminal behavior is, more regularly than not, subcultural behavior. From the interactionist criminology of the Chicago School and Edwin Sutherland to the subcultural theories of Cohen, Cloward and Ohlin, and others, criminologists have long accredited that events and i ndividualities named criminal are classically produced inside the limitations of unusual and criminal subcultures. In this sense, a lot of what we acquire to be crime is fundamentally communal behavior; whether carried out by one person or lots of; exacting criminal acts are habitually prepared within and initiated by subcultural crowd. Despite the fact that the limitations/boundaries may stay ill-defined, and the relationship may shift in unpleasant numbers and stage of assurance, these subcultures compose ultimate human links for those who partake in them. Biker, hustler, Blood and Crip, pimp and prostitute all name subcultural networks as much as individual personalities. Since Sutherland and the Chicago School identified a half century ago, and as immeasurable case studies have since established, criminal subcultures integrate way further than easy immediacies of private relationship. To have a word of a criminal subculture is to distinguish not only an organization of people, but a set of connections of symbols, denotation, and awareness. Components of a criminal subculture are taught and discuss â€Å"intentions, force, rationalizations, and attitudes; expand detailed conventions of language, look, and appearance of self; and in so doing contribute, to better or minor grades, in a subculture, a combined way of life. A large number of this subcultural meaning, exploit, personality, and condition is planned around style, that is, something like the common aesthetic of the subcultures members. As previous researchers have established, delicacies of cooperative style describe the sense of crime and deviance for subcultural contestantants, manager of legal control, clients of arbitrated crime descriptions, and others. If we are to understand both the terror and the plea of skinheads, Bloods and Crips, graffiti writers, zoot suiters, impolite boys, drug users, and others, we have to be able to make sense not only of their criminal acts, but of their group aesthetics as well. Katzs study, for instance, has related criminal acts and aesthetics by investigating the styles and symbolic meanings which appear inside the daily dynamics of criminal proceedings and criminal subcultures. By paying attention to dark sunglasses and white undershirts, to accurate styles of walking, talking, and if not introducing ones criminal character, Katz has outlined the alternative deviant culture, the coherent deviant ‘a ‘esthetic in which badasses, cholos, punks, youth gang members, and others take part. In these cases, as in other models of crime on and off the street, the significance of criminality is secured in the style of its collective performance. The bikers ritually rebuild motorbike, the gang members sports clothing and tattoos, the graffiti writers strange street pictures, and the skinheads aggressively challenging music compose the vital cultural and subcultural equipment out of which criminal schemes and criminal individuals are raised and demonstrated. For once more, contribution in a criminal subculture, or in the culture of crime, funds participation in the symbolism and style, the shared aesthetic atmosphere, of criminality. From earlier on labor within the British cultural studies tradition to Katz and more modern criminologists, studies have exposed that representation( symbolism) and style not only form criminal subcultures, but interlink with the wider social and official associations in which these subcultures are wedged. Criminal subcultures and their styles both breed out of class, age, gender, ethnic, and legal differences, and by turns duplicate and oppose these social mistake lines. And this interaction of subcultural style, difference, and power in turn reminds us of Beckers classic criminological command, that we must observe not only criminal subcultures, but the lawful and political authorities who build these subcultures as criminal. When we do, we find these authorities both acting in response to subcultural styles, and themselves utilizing symbolic and stylistic approaches of their own in opposition to them. The criminalization attempts of legal and political supporters show again the control of cultural forces; in criminalizing cultural and subcultural actions, and campaigning for communal support, ethical capitalists and legal auth orities influence legal and political structures, but conceivably more so structures of mass symbolism and perception. To appreciate the actuality of crime and criminalization, subsequently, a cultural criminology ought to report not only for the dynamics of criminal subcultures, but for the dynamics of the gathered media too. Nowadays, arbitrated pictures of crime and criminal violent behavior wash over us in wave after wave, and in so doing help form public insights and strategies in look upon crime. But obviously these modern cases constructed on prior arbitrated structures of crime and control. The criminalization of marijuana in the United States a half century ago was forecasted on an attempt to awaken the public to the threat dealing with it by means of `a didactic campaign recitations the drug, its recognition, and evil consequences. Forceful gang behavior and police attack on zoot suiters in the 1940s were assault by the increase of an unmistakably hostile symbol in Los Angeles newspapers. In the mid-1960s, shocking media reports of rape and assault placed the circumstance for a permissible campaign in opposition to the Hells Angels; and at approximately the matching time, lawful harassments on British mods and rockers were lawful throughout the medias consumption of sensitive symbols.† In the 1970s, the mutual relations amid the British mass media and criminal justice system formed a discernment that mugging was a terrifying new injures of crime. And throughout the 1980s and untimely 1990s, mediated horror legends justified wars on drugs, gangs, and graffiti in the United States, and shaped instants of mediated moral panic over child cruelty and child pornography in Great Britain. This development away from penal borders, this combination of conflicting scholarly viewpoints, this centered on positioned cultural dynamics, all naming prospects not only for a serious cultural criminology, but a kind of postmodern cultural criminology on top. Current social, feminist, and cultural speculations are increasingly moving further than penal restrictions and distinct classes to generate artificial, postmodern outlooks on social and cultural life. Despite the fact that patent by their assorted and different components, these perceptions allocate some wide-ranging thoughts, between them the concept that the on a daily basis culture of persons and groups integrates commanding and contradictory extent of style and sense. The symbolism and style of social interaction, the culture of everyday life, in this way materializes a contested political ground, representing samples of dissimilarity, supremacy, and opportunity. And these samples are in turn tangled with superior struct ures of mediated information and amusement, cultural manufacture and expenditure, and official and political authority. Seeing that the type of cultural criminology outlined here expands, it can incorporate criminology keen on these artificial lines of located inquest now rising under large captions like postmodernism and cultural studies. Cultural criminology therefore offers criminologists the chance to improve their own perceptions and perspectives on crime with approaching from other disciplines, whilst at the same time providing for their social group in cultural studies, the sociology of culture, media studies, and somewhere else priceless prospects on crime, criminalization, and their association to cultural and political procedures. Meandering or breaching the limitations of criminology in sort to create a cultural criminology in this sense destabilizes contemporary criminology less than it increases and enlivens it. Cultural criminology expands criminologys field to compris e worlds predictably measured external to it: gallery art, trendy music, media companies and texts, style. In the equal way, it institutes criminology into contemporary arguments over these worlds, and labels criminological points of view as crucial to them. The particular relations between culture and crime, and the wider relationship among criminology and contemporary social and cultural life, are both explained within cultural criminology. References: Ferrell J. (1999) Cultural Criminology, pages 395-418, Annual Review Of Sociology. Vol.25 http://www.albany.edu/scj/jcjpc/vol3is2/culture.html http://www.culturalcriminology.org/ O’ BRIEM, M. (2005) what is cultural about cultural criminology? British Journal Criminology, [Online] Available: URL: E:UniModulesWhat is Cultural About Cultural Criminology O’Brien 45 (5) 599 British Journal of Criminology.htm [1

Frostbite Chapter 23

Twenty-three THE WEATHER WARMED UP ON the day of my molnija ceremony. In fact, it was so warm that a lot of the snow on campus began melting, running down the sides of the Academy's stone buildings in slim, silvery streams. Winter was far from being over, so I knew everything would just freeze up again in a few days. For now, though, it felt as though the entire world was weeping. I had walked away from the Spokane incident with minor bruises and cuts. The burns from the melting flex-cuffs were the worst of my injuries. But I was still having a hard time dealing with the death I'd caused and the death I'd seen. I'd wanted little more than to go curl up in a ball somewhere and not talk to anyone, except maybe Lissa. But on my fourth day back at the Academy, my mother had found me and told me it was time to receive my marks. It had taken me several moments to grasp what she was talking about. Then it occurred to me that in decapitating two Strigoi, I'd earned two molnija tattoos. My first ones. The realization had stunned me. All my life, in considering my future career as a guardian, I'd looked forward to the marks. I'd seen them as badges of honor. But now? Mainly they were going to be reminders of something I wanted to forget. The ceremony took place in the guardians' building, in a large room they used for meetings and banquets. It was nothing at all like the great dining room at the resort. It was efficient and practical, like the guardians were. The carpet was a bluish gray shade, low and tightly woven. The bare white walls held framed black-and-white photos of St. Vladimir's through the years. There were no other decorations or fanfare, yet the solemnity and power of the moment were palpable. All the guardians on campus- but no novices- attended. They milled around in the building's main meeting room, hanging out in clusters but not talking. When the ceremony started, they fell into orderly ranks without being told and watched me. I sat on a stool in the corner of the room, leaning forward with my hair hanging over the front of my face. Behind me, a guardian named Lionel held a tattooist's needle to the back of my neck. I'd known him the whole time I'd been at the Academy, but I'd never realized he was trained to draw molnija marks. Before he started, he had a murmured conversation with my mother and Alberta. â€Å"She won't have a promise mark,† he said. â€Å"She hasn't graduated.† â€Å"It happens,† said Alberta. â€Å"She made the kills. Do the molnijas, and she'll get the promise mark later.† Considering the pain I regularly put myself through, I didn't expect the tattoos to hurt as much as they did. But I bit my lip and stayed silent as Lionel made the marks. The process seemed to go on forever. When he finished, he produced a couple of mirrors, and with some maneuvering, I was able to see the back of my neck. Two tiny black marks sat there, side by side, against my reddened and sensitive skin. Molnija meant â€Å"lightning† in Russian, and that's what the jagged shape was meant to symbolize. Two marks. One for Isaiah, one for Elena. Once I'd seen them, he bandaged them up and gave me some instructions about caring for them while they healed. Most of it I missed, but I figured I could ask again later. I was still kind of shocked by it all. After that, all the gathered guardians came up to me one by one. They each gave me some sort of sign of affection- a hug, a kiss on the cheek- and kind words. â€Å"Welcome to the ranks,† said Alberta, her weathered face gentle as she pulled me into a tight embrace. Dimitri didn't say anything when his turn came, but as always, his eyes spoke legions. Pride and tenderness filled his expression, and I swallowed back tears. He rested one hand gently on my cheek, nodded, and walked away. When Stan- the instructor I'd fought with the most since my first day- hugged me and said, â€Å"Now you're one of us. I always knew you'd be one of the best,† I thought I'd pass out. And then when my mother came up to me, I couldn't help the tear that ran down my cheek. She wiped it away and then brushed her fingers against the back of my neck. â€Å"Don't ever forget,† she told me. Nobody said, â€Å"Congratulations,† and I was glad. Death wasn't anything to get excited about. When that was done, drinks and food were served. I walked to the buffet table and made a plate for myself of miniature feta quiches and a slice of mango cheesecake. I ate without really tasting the food and answered questions from others without even knowing what I said half the time. It was like I was a Rose robot, going through the motions of what was expected. On the back of my neck, my skin stung from the tattoos, and in my mind, I kept seeing Mason's blue eyes and Isaiah's red ones. I felt guilty for not enjoying my big day more, but I was relieved when the group finally started dispersing. My mother walked up to me as others murmured their goodbyes. Aside from her words here at the ceremony, we hadn't talked much since my breakdown on the plane. I still felt a little funny about that- and a little embarrassed as well. She'd never mentioned it, but something very small had shifted in the nature of our relationship. We weren't anywhere near being friends†¦but we weren't exactly enemies anymore either. â€Å"Lord Szelsky is leaving soon,† she told me as we stood near the building's doorway, not far from where I'd yelled for her on that first day we'd talked. â€Å"I'll be going with him.† â€Å"I know,† I said. There was no question she'd leave. That was how it was. Guardians followed Moroi. They came first. She regarded me for a few moments, her brown eyes thoughtful. For the first time in a long time, I felt like we were actually looking eye to eye, as opposed to her looking down on me. It was about time, too, seeing as I had half a foot of height on her. â€Å"You did well,† she said at last. â€Å"Considering the circumstances.† It was only half a compliment, but I deserved no more. I understood now the mistakes and lapses of judgment that had led to the events at Isaiah's house. Some had been my fault; some hadn't. I wished I could have changed some of my actions, but I knew she was right. I'd done the best I could in the end with the mess before me. â€Å"Killing Strigoi wasn't as glamorous as I thought it'd be,† I told her. She gave me a sad smile. â€Å"No. It never is.† I thought then about all the marks on her neck, all the kills. I shuddered. â€Å"Oh, hey.† Eager to change the subject, I reached into my pocket and pulled out the little blue eye pendant she'd given me. â€Å"This thing you gave me. It's a n-nazari† I stumbled over the word. She looked surprised. â€Å"Yes. How'd you know?† I didn't want to explain my dreams with Adrian. â€Å"Someone told me. It's a protection thing, right?† A pensive look crossed her face, and then she exhaled and nodded. â€Å"Yes. It comes from an old superstition in the Middle East†¦Some people believe that those who want to hurt you can curse you or give you ‘the evil eye.' The nazar is meant to counteract the evil eye †¦ and just bring protection in general to those who wear it.† I ran my fingers over the piece of glass. â€Å"Middle East†¦so, places sort of like, um, Turkey?† My mother's lips quirked. â€Å"Places exactly like Turkey.† She hesitated. â€Å"It was †¦ a gift. A gift I received a long time ago †¦Ã¢â‚¬  Her gaze turned inward, lost in memory. â€Å"I got a lot of †¦ attention from men when I was your age. Attention that seemed flattering at first but wasn't in the end. It's hard to tell the difference sometimes, between what's real affection and what's someone wanting to take advantage of you. But when you feel the real thing†¦well, you'll know.† I understood then why she was so overprotective about my reputation- she'd endangered her own when she was younger. Maybe more than that had been damaged. I also knew why she'd given the nazar to me. My father had given it to her. I didn't think she wanted to talk anymore about it, so I didn't ask. It was enough to know that maybe, just maybe, their relationship hadn't been all about business and genes after all. We said goodbye, and I returned to my classes. Everyone knew where I'd been that morning, and my fellow novices wanted to see my molnija marks. I didn't blame them. If our roles had been reversed, I would have been harassing me too. â€Å"Come on, Rose,† begged Shane Reyes. We were walking out of our morning practice, and he kept swatting my ponytail. I made a mental note to wear my hair down tomorrow. Several others followed us and echoed his requests. â€Å"Yeah, come on. Let's see what you got for your swordsmanship!† Their eyes shone with eagerness and excitement. I was a hero, their classmate who'd dispatched the leaders of the roving band of Strigoi that had so terrorized us over the holidays. But I met the eyes of someone standing at the back of the group, someone who looked neither eager nor excited. Eddie. Meeting my gaze, he gave me a small, sad smile. He understood. â€Å"Sorry, guys,† I said, turning back to the others. â€Å"They have to stay bandaged. Doctor's orders.† This was met with grumbles that soon turned into questions about how I'd actually killed the Strigoi. Decapitation was one of the hardest and rarest ways to kill a vampire; it wasn't like carrying a sword was convenient. So I did my best to tell my friends what had happened, making sure to stick to the facts and not glorify the killings. The school day couldn't end a moment too soon, and Lissa walked with me back to my dorm. She and I hadn't had the chance to talk much since everything had gone down in Spokane. I'd undergone a lot of questioning, and then there'd been Mason's funeral. Lissa had also been caught up in her own distractions with the royals leaving campus, so she'd had no more free time than me. Being near her made me feel better. Even though I could be in her head at any time, it just wasn't the same as actually being physically around another living person who cared about you. When we got to the door of my room, I saw a bouquet of freesias sitting on the floor near it. Sighing, I picked up the fragrant flowers without even looking at the attached card. â€Å"What are those?† asked Lissa while I unlocked the door. â€Å"They're from Adrian,† I told her. We walked inside, and I pointed to my desk, where a few other bouquets sat. I put the freesias down beside them. â€Å"I'll be glad when he leaves campus. I don't think I can take much more of this.† She turned to me in surprise. â€Å"Oh. Um, you don't know.† I got that warning twinge through the bond that told me I wouldn't like what was about to come. â€Å"Know what?† â€Å"Uh, he isn't leaving. He's going to stay here for a while.† â€Å"He has to leave,† I argued. To my knowledge, the only reason he'd come back at all was because of Mason's funeral, and I still wasn't sure why he'd done that, since he barely knew Mason. Maybe Adrian had just done it for show. Or maybe to keep stalking Lissa and me. â€Å"He's in college. Or maybe reform school. I don't know, but he does something.† â€Å"He's taking the semester off.† I stared. Smiling at my shock, she nodded. â€Å"He's going to stay and work with me†¦ and Ms. Carmack. All this time, he never even knew what spirit was. He just knew he hadn't specialized but that he had these weird abilities. He just kept them to himself, except for when he occasionally found another spirit user. But they didn't know any more than he did.† â€Å"I should have figured it out sooner,† I mused. â€Å"There was something about being around him. †¦ I always wanted to talk to him, you know? He just has this †¦ charisma. Like you do. I guess it's all tied into spirit and compulsion or whatever. It makes me like him †¦ even though I don't like him.† â€Å"Don't you?† she teased. â€Å"No,† I replied adamantly. â€Å"And I don't like that dream thing, either.† Her jade eyes went wide with wonder. â€Å"That is cool,† she said. â€Å"You've always been able to tell what's going on with me, but I've never been able to communicate with you the other way. I'm glad you guys got away when you did†¦but I wish I could have figured out the dream thing and helped find you.† â€Å"Not me,† I said. â€Å"I'm glad Adrian didn't get you to go off your meds.† I hadn't found that out until a few days after being in Spokane. Lissa had apparently rejected Adrian's initial suggestion that stopping the pills would let her learn more about spirit. She had admitted to me later, however, that if Christian and I had stayed missing much longer, she might have cracked. â€Å"How are you feeling lately?† I asked, recalling her concerns about the medication. â€Å"You still feel like the pills aren't working?† â€Å"Mmm†¦well, it's hard to explain. I still feel closer to the magic, like maybe they aren't blocking me so much anymore. But I'm not feeling any of the other mental side effects†¦not upset or anything.† â€Å"Wow, that's great.† A beautiful smile lit her face. â€Å"I know. It makes me think there might be hope for me to learn to work the magic after all someday.† Seeing her so happy made me smile back. I hadn't liked seeing those dark feelings starting to return and was glad they'd vanished. I didn't understand the how or the why, but as long as she felt okay- Everyone has light around them, except for you. You have shadows. You take them from Lissa. Adrian's words slammed into my mind. Uneasily, I thought about my behavior these last couple of weeks. Some of the angry outbursts. My rebelliousness- unusual even for me. My own black coil of emotion, stirring in my chest†¦ No, I decided. There were no similarities. Lissa's dark feelings were magic-based. Mine were stress-based. Besides, I felt fine right now. Seeing her watching me, I tried to remember where we'd left off in the conversation. â€Å"Maybe you'll eventually find a way to make it work. I mean, if Adrian could find a way to use spirit and doesn't need meds †¦Ã¢â‚¬  She suddenly laughed. â€Å"You don't know, do you?† â€Å"What?† â€Å"That Adrian does medicate himself.† â€Å"He does? But he said- † I groaned. â€Å"Of course he does. The cigarettes. The drinking. God only knows what else.† She nodded. â€Å"Yup. He's almost always got something in his system.† â€Å"But probably not at night†¦which is why he can poke his head into my dreams.† â€Å"Man, I wish I could do that,† she sighed. â€Å"Maybe you'll learn someday. Just don't become an alcoholic in the process.† â€Å"I won't,† she assured me. â€Å"But I will learn. None of the other spirit users could do it, Rose- well, aside from St. Vladimir. I'll learn like he did. I'm going to learn to use it- and I won't let it hurt me.† I smiled and touched her hand. I had absolute faith in her. â€Å"I know.† We talked for most of the evening. When the time came for my usual practice with Dimitri, I parted ways with her. As I walked away, I pondered something that had been bothering me. Although the attacking groups of Strigoi had had many more members, the guardians felt confident Isaiah had been their leader. That didn't mean there wouldn't be other threats in the future, but they felt it'd be a while before his followers regrouped. But I couldn't help thinking about the list I'd seen in the tunnel in Spokane, the one that had listed royal families by size. And Isaiah had mentioned the Dragomirs by name. He knew they were almost gone, and he'd sounded keen on being the one to finish them. Sure, he was dead now†¦but were there other Strigoi out there with the same idea? I shook my head. I couldn't worry about that. Not today. I still needed to recover from everything else. Soon, though. Soon I'd have to deal with this. I didn't even know if our practice was still on but went to the locker room anyway. After changing into practice clothes, I headed down into the gym and found Dimitri in a supply room, reading one of the Western novels he loved. He looked up at my entrance. I'd seen little of him in these last few days and had figured he was busy with Tasha. â€Å"I thought you might come by,† he said, putting a bookmark between the pages. â€Å"It's time for practice.† He shook his head. â€Å"No. No practice today. You still need to recover.† â€Å"I've got a clean bill of health. I'm good to go.† I pushed as much patented Rose Hathaway bravado into my words as I could. Dimitri wasn't falling for any of it. He gestured to the chair beside him. â€Å"Sit down, Rose.† I hesitated only a moment before complying. He moved his own chair close to mine so that we sat directly across from each other. My heart fluttered as I looked into those gorgeous dark eyes. â€Å"No one gets over their first kill†¦kills†¦easily. Even with Strigoi†¦well, it's still technically taking a life. That's hard to come to terms with. And after everything else you went through †¦Ã¢â‚¬  He sighed, then reached out and caught my hand in his. His fingers were exactly like I remembered, long and powerful, calloused with years of training. â€Å"When I saw your face†¦when we found you in that house†¦you can't imagine how I felt.† I swallowed. â€Å"How †¦ how did you feel?† â€Å"Devastated †¦ grief-stricken. You were alive, but the way you looked †¦ I didn't think you'd ever recover. And it tore me apart to think of that happening to you so young.† He squeezed my hand. â€Å"You will recover- I know that now, and I'm glad. But you aren't there. Not yet. Losing someone you care about is never easy.† My eyes dropped from his and studied the floor. â€Å"It's my fault,† I said in a small voice. â€Å"Hmm?† â€Å"Mason. Getting killed.† I didn't have to see Dimitri's face to know compassion was filling it. â€Å"Oh, Roza. No. You made some bad decisions†¦you should have told others when you knew he was gone†¦but you can't blame yourself. You didn't kill him.† Tears brimmed in my eyes as I looked back up. â€Å"I might as well have. The whole reason he went there- it was my fault. We had a fight†¦and I told him about the Spokane thing, even though you asked me not to†¦.† One tear leaked out of the corner of my eye. Really, I needed to learn to stop that. Just as my mother had, Dimitri delicately wiped the tear off my cheek. â€Å"You can't blame yourself for that,† he told me. â€Å"You can regret your decisions and wish you'd done things differently, but in the end, Mason made his decisions too. That was what he chose to do. It was his decision in the end, no matter your original role.† When Mason had come back for me, I realized, he'd let his feelings for me get in the way. It was what Dimitri had always feared, that if he and I had any sort of relationship, it would put us- and any Moroi we protected- in danger. â€Å"I just wish I'd been able to †¦ I don't know, do anything†¦Ã¢â‚¬  Swallowing back further tears, I pulled my hands from Dimitri's and stood up before I could say something stupid. â€Å"I should go,† I said thickly. â€Å"Let me know when you want to start practice again. And thanks for †¦ talking.† I started to turn; then I heard him say abruptly, â€Å"No.† I glanced back. â€Å"What?† He held my gaze, and something warm and wonderful and powerful shot between us. â€Å"No,† he repeated. â€Å"I told her no. Tasha.† â€Å"I †¦Ã¢â‚¬  I shut my mouth before my jaw hit the floor. â€Å"But†¦why? That was a once-in-a-lifetime thing. You could have had a baby. And she †¦ she was, you know, into you†¦.† The ghost of a smile flickered on his face. â€Å"Yes, she was. Is. And that's why I had to say no. I couldn't return that†¦couldn't give her what she wanted. Not when†¦Ã¢â‚¬  He took a few steps toward me. â€Å"Not when my heart is somewhere else.† I almost started crying again. â€Å"But you seemed so into her. And you kept going on about how young I acted.† â€Å"You act young,† he said, â€Å"because you are young. But you know things, Roza. Things people older than you don't even know. That day †¦Ã¢â‚¬  I knew instantly which day he referred to. The one up against the wall. â€Å"You were right, about how I fight to stay in control. No one else has ever figured that out- and it scared me. You scare me.† â€Å"Why? Don't you want anyone to know?† He shrugged. â€Å"Whether they know that fact or not doesn't matter. What matters is that someone- that you- know me that well. When a person can see into your soul, it's hard. It forces you to be open. Vulnerable. It's much easier being with someone who's just more of a casual friend.† â€Å"Like Tasha.† â€Å"Tasha Ozera is an amazing woman. She's beautiful and she's brave. But she doesn't- â€Å" â€Å"She doesn't get you,† I finished. He nodded. â€Å"I knew that. But I still wanted the relationship. I knew it would be easy and that she could take me away from you. I thought she could make me forget you.† I'd thought the same thing about Mason. â€Å"But she couldn't.† â€Å"Yes. And, so †¦ that's a problem.† â€Å"Because it's wrong for us to be together.† â€Å"Yes.† â€Å"Because of the age difference.† â€Å"Yes.† â€Å"But more importantly because we're going to be Lissa's guardians and need to focus on her- not each other.† â€Å"Yes.† I thought about this for a moment and then looked straight into his eyes. â€Å"Well,† I said at last, â€Å"the way I see it, we aren't Lissa's guardians yet.† I steeled myself for the next response. I knew it was going to be one of the Zen life lessons. Something about inner strength and perseverance, about how the choices we made today were templates for the future or some other nonsense. Instead he kissed me. Time stopped as he reached out and cupped my face between his hands. He brought his mouth down and brushed it against my lips. It was barely a kiss at first but soon increased, becoming heady and deep. When he finally pulled away, it was to kiss my forehead. He left his lips there for several seconds as his arms held me close. I wished the kiss could have gone on forever. Breaking the embrace, he ran a few fingers through my hair and down my cheek. He stepped back toward the door. â€Å"I'll see you later, Roza.† â€Å"At our next practice?† I asked. â€Å"We are starting those up again, right? I mean, you still have things to teach me.† Standing in the doorway, he looked over at me and smiled. â€Å"Yes. Lots of things.†

Miss Saigon Musical - 1214 Words

The heat is on in Saigon. With larger than life visual spectacle, that dazzles audiences, Miss Saigon does not fall short of its difficult subject matter. Centering around tragic love tale, in which an American GI soldier falls hopelessly in love with a Vietnamese girl, the story quickly unravels and begins to test the true idea of love at first sight. As one of the most successful musicals in the world, Miss Saigon addresses the ideas surrounding war and imperialism while exposing the egregious stereotypes between America and the Vietnamese. During the 1970s while America was at war with Vietnam, there were large amounts of weakened faith in the government. And as one scholar mentions, â€Å"The United States also paid a high political cost for the Vietnam War. It weakened public faith in government, and in the honesty and competence of its leaders. Indeed, skepticism, if not cynicism, and a high degree of suspicion of and distrust toward authority of all kind characterized the views of an increasing number of Americans in the wake of the war† (Sitikoff). Although in the musical there were thousands of men present in Saigon, the war was not well supported back in America. â€Å"Historians have conclusively proven that the Johnson administration was engaged in an effort to hide the growing US commitment in Vietnam between August 1964 and July 1965. Jeffrey W. 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Fun House, By Alison Bechdel - 1398 Words

Fun House, the autobiography written by author Alison Bechdel centers around her life growing up and the death of her father. The autobiography is in a graphic novel format that artistically depicts relevant events that occurred in Bechdel’s life when she was growing up. The novel shows the problems that dysfunctional families have in a realistic way without sugar coating anything. The plot of Fun House centers around Bechdel’s life and what it was like living in a household where the parents did not pay that much attention to their children and focused on other things, where the father who is supposed to the head of the household, has a dark secret concerning his sexual orientation, where the protagonist (Alison) is dealing with gender†¦show more content†¦On page 16, Bechdel says that her father â€Å"[did] not make things, but [made] things appear the be what they were not† which proves that her father wanted to keep up the appearances of a perfect fa mily with no problems. In my opinion, I think that it is really sad and awful that as a child, Alison did not get the love and attention that she should have received from her father because he was too obsessed with other things such as decorating their house and making sure that they seemed like the perfect family even though realistically they were not. In Chapter 2, Alison talks about her father’s death. Her father got hit by a truck and died, and she thinks it was a suicide but there was no evidence suggesting that and the only one who thinks that is Alison. In addition to that in Chapter 4: In the Shadow of Young Girls in Flowers, Bechdel talks more in-depth about her father’s death and describes what occurred. She explains that her father had been doing some gardening just before he died and that was the cause of his death. According to Alison, her father was doing yard work and as he was crossing the road with to throw away brush that he was carrying, then suddenly he jumps backwards into the road right as a truck is coming and it runs him over (89). The man who was driving the truck that hit Mr. Bechdel explains that it was an accident and that Alison’s father did not jump into the road on purpose, but that he seemedShow MoreRelatedThe Dramatic Twist Of This Graphic Memoir By Alison Bechdel1376 Words   |   6 Pagesis called memoir. Introducing the dramatic twist of this graphic memoir written by Alison Bechdel will be explained in my essay. Alison Bechdel is a young lady who came out as being lesbian at the age of 19. Bechdel is the only child of a family of three and she deals with a problem which has to do with her father giving her hidden love. Bechdel uses memoir in the book to find herself in life in many ways. 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The root of pain can come from these things listed and more, in this essay using pieces from the film â€Å"Her,† written and directed by Spike Jonze, excerpts from â€Å"Citizen† by Claudia Rankine, excerpts the book â€Å"Fun Home† by Alison Bechdel, along with sources from the media, I will discuss what pain is and discuss how it is represented in multiple contexts and treatments and the significance of pain. Pain is an uneasy and unpleasant feeling or experience. Pain givesRead MoreKate Bechdel s Fun Home Essay2365 Words   |  10 PagesOn the surface, Alison Bechdel’s Fun Home seems simply to be a memoir of her journey towards discovering her own identity, and in the process, uncovering her father’s. However, the novel is far more complex. The graphic novel is not linear in the least, and mimics memory as it moves backwards and forwards in time, or returns to specific situations repeatedly. This is layered with the numerous references to previous literary texts in an interesting manner; combined, it provides emotional and informative