Choose one of the following passages that focuses on the setting in one of the s

Choose one of the following passages that focuses on the setting in one of the stories. Write an essay that provides a close reading of the selected passage. A close reading pays attention to the specific details, analyzing things such as word choice and figurative language, to present an argument about the significance of the passage. Your essay must have a central thesis, provided near the end of the introduction, that argues for the significance of the selected passage and provides three main points of support. (E.g.: This particular passage from Joyce’s “Araby” reveals three important things about the setting: A, B, and C.)
< Do not quote the selected passage in its entirety in your essay. Instead, the introduction to your essay should introduce the passage in your own words by giving context for it (for < instance, “In one significant passage near the beginning of the story…”). Then, where appropriate, you can quote the relevant parts of the passage as required to substantiate your < ideas and points throughout the essay. Using short quotations like this helps focus the reader’s attention on the exact words or phrases that are pertinent to your argument. Before you begin to write, you should review the file “MLA Format and Essay Conventions,” provided for you . Note how to quote from a story, cite the page number in parentheses, and include an entry for the story in a Works Cited page. No secondary sources < are necessary for this assignment. If you choose to use a source, ensure that it is reputable and scholarly, and cautiously document all borrowed quotations, arguments, and ideas with < parenthetical citations and Works Cited entries. < < 1. “In my dream I climbed the stairs to the top of our apartment building as myself, but as I < went up each flight, changes would be taking place. Step by step I would fill out: my legs < would grow long, my arms harden into steel, and my hair would magically go straight and < turn a golden color. Of course, I would add the bonus of breasts, but not too large; < Supergirl had to be aerodynamic, and sleek and hard as a supersonic missile. Once on the < roof, my parents safely asleep in their beds, I would get on tip-toe, arms outstretched in < the position for flight and jump out my fifty-story-high window into the black lake of the < sky. From up there, over the rooftops, I could see everything, even beyond the few blocks < of our barrio with my x-ray vision I could look inside the homes of people who interested < me.” < —Judith Ortiz Cofer, “Volar” (from The Seagull Reader: Stories, p. 400) < < 2. “It was a big, squarish frame house that had once been white, decorated with cupolas and < spires and scrolled balconies in the heavily lightsome style of the seventies, set on what < had once been our most select street. But garages and cotton gins had encroached and < obliterated even the august names of that neighborhood; only Miss Emily’s house was < left, lifting its stubborn and coquettish decay above the cotton wagons and the gasoline < pumps—an eyesore among eyesores. And now Miss Emily had gone to join the < representatives of those august names where they lay in the cedar-bemused cemetery < among the ranked and anonymous graves of Union and Confederate soldiers who fell at < the battle of Jefferson.” < —William Faulkner, “A Rose for Emily” (from The Seagull Reader: Stories, p.154-55) < < 3. “When the short days of winter came dusk fell before we had well eaten our dinners. < When we met in the street the houses had grown sombre. The space of the sky above us < was the colour of every-changing violet and towards it the lamps of the street lifted their < feeble lanterns. The cold air stung us and we played till our bodies glowed. Our shouts < echoed in the silent street. The career of our play brought us through the dark muddy < lanes behind the houses where we ran the gantlet of the rough tribes from the cottages, to < the back doors of the dripping gardens where odours arose from the ashpits, to the dark < odorous stables where a coachman smoothed and combed the horse or shook music from < the buckled harness. When we returned to the street light from the kitchen windows had < filled the areas.” < < —James Joyce, “Araby” (from The Seagull Reader: Stories, p. 237) < 4. “They [Eva and Carol] paddled away from shore, heading out into the cold lake. The < water was perfectly clear, they could see the brown grass swimming along the bottom. < Suppose it was the sea, thought Eva. She thought of drowned cities and countries. < Atlantis. Suppose they were riding in a Viking boat—Viking boats on the Atlantic were < more frail and narrow than this log on the Flood—and they had miles of clear sea beneath < them, then a spired city, intact as a jewel irretrievable on the ocean floor. […] ‘This is a < Viking boat,’ she said. ‘I am the carving on the front.’ She stuck her chest out and < stretched her neck, trying to make a curve, and she made a face, putting out her tongue. < Then she turned and for the first time took notice of the boys.” < —Alice Munro, “The Found Boat” (from Something I’ve Been Meaning to Tell.., p. 103)