Question Details

[answered] A Very Old Man with Enormous Wings by Gabriel Garcia Marque


Please help for the better grade in writing?an essay.

Here's the instruction is below, and please read an article on the attached file before start writing an essay.


Discussion Board 5.1 : A Very Old Man with Enormous Wings


Initial post of? at least 300 words.

Analyze and respond to Gabriel Garcia Marquez's "A Very Old Man with Enormous Wings." ? Refer to the "Writing about Literature" links to help guide your response.? The prompts below can be used for brainstorming purposes.? No need to answer them all and, of course, you can devise your own prompt if you like.? Either way, be sure that your response is in short essay format (not just a string of short answers) with a clear thesis statement and supporting quotations.

1. If we consider the story to be an example of satire, then what idea, issue or situation is the target of the satire?

2 Why are the townspeople more interested in the Spider Woman than the angel?? What does this say about human nature?

3. The story is full of fantastic imagery.? Identify some of your favorites and explain how those images support a major theme of the story.? ?


A Very Old Man with Enormous Wings

 

by Gabriel Garcia Marquez

 

Translated by Gregory Rabassa On the third day of rain they had killed so many crabs inside the house that Pelayo had to

 

cross his drenched courtyard and throw them into the sea, because the newborn child had

 

a temperature all night and they thought it was due to the stench. The world had been sad

 

since Tuesday. Sea and sky were a single ash-gray thing and the sands of the beach,

 

which on March nights glimmered like powdered light, had become a stew of mud and

 

rotten shellfish. The light was so weak at noon that when Pelayo was coming back to the

 

house after throwing away the crabs, it was hard for him to see what it was that was

 

moving and groaning in the rear of the courtyard. He had to go very close to see that it

 

was an old man, a very old man, lying face down in the mud, who, in spite of his

 

tremendous efforts, couldn?t get up, impeded by his enormous wings.

 

Frightened by that nightmare, Pelayo ran to get Elisenda, his wife, who was putting

 

compresses on the sick child, and he took her to the rear of the courtyard. They both

 

looked at the fallen body with a mute stupor. He was dressed like a ragpicker. There were

 

only a few faded hairs left on his bald skull and very few teeth in his mouth, and his

 

pitiful condition of a drenched great-grandfather took away any sense of grandeur he

 

might have had. His huge buzzard wings, dirty and half-plucked, were forever entangled

 

in the mud. They looked at him so long and so closely that Pelayo and Elisenda very soon

 

overcame their surprise and in the end found him familiar. Then they dared speak to him,

 

and he answered in an incomprehensible dialect with a strong sailor?s voice. That was

 

how they skipped over the inconvenience of the wings and quite intelligently concluded

 

that he was a lonely castaway from some foreign ship wrecked by the storm. And yet,

 

they called in a neighbor woman who knew everything about life and death to see him,

 

and all she needed was one look to show them their mistake.

 

?He?s an angel,? she told them. ?He must have been coming for the child, but the poor

 

fellow is so old that the rain knocked him down.?

 

On the following day everyone knew that a flesh-and-blood angel was held captive in

 

Pelayo?s house. Against the judgment of the wise neighbor woman, for whom angels in

 

those times were the fugitive survivors of a celestial conspiracy, they did not have the

 

heart to club him to death. Pelayo watched over him all afternoon from the kitchen,

 

armed with his bailiff?s club, and before going to bed he dragged him out of the mud and locked him up with the hens in the wire chicken coop. In the middle of the night, when

 

the rain stopped, Pelayo and Elisenda were still killing crabs. A short time afterward the

 

child woke up without a fever and with a desire to eat. Then they felt magnanimous and

 

decided to put the angel on a raft with fresh water and provisions for three days and leave

 

him to his fate on the high seas. But when they went out into the courtyard with the first

 

light of dawn, they found the whole neighborhood in front of the chicken coop having fun

 

with the angel, without the slightest reverence, tossing him things to eat through the

 

openings in the wire as if he weren?t a supernatural creature but a circus animal.

 

Father Gonzaga arrived before seven o?clock, alarmed at the strange news. By that time

 

onlookers less frivolous than those at dawn had already arrived and they were making all

 

kinds of conjectures concerning the captive?s future. The simplest among them thought

 

that he should be named mayor of the world. Others of sterner mind felt that he should be

 

promoted to the rank of five-star general in order to win all wars. Some visionaries hoped

 

that he could be put to stud in order to implant the earth a race of winged wise men who

 

could take charge of the universe. But Father Gonzaga, before becoming a priest, had

 

been a robust woodcutter. Standing by the wire, he reviewed his catechism in an instant

 

and asked them to open the door so that he could take a close look at that pitiful man who

 

looked more like a huge decrepit hen among the fascinated chickens. He was lying in the

 

corner drying his open wings in the sunlight among the fruit peels and breakfast leftovers

 

that the early risers had thrown him. Alien to the impertinences of the world, he only

 

lifted his antiquarian eyes and murmured something in his dialect when Father Gonzaga

 

went into the chicken coop and said good morning to him in Latin. The parish priest had

 

his first suspicion of an imposter when he saw that he did not understand the language of

 

God or know how to greet His ministers. Then he noticed that seen close up he was much

 

too human: he had an unbearable smell of the outdoors, the back side of his wings was

 

strewn with parasites and his main feathers had been mistreated by terrestrial winds, and

 

nothing about him measured up to the proud dignity of angels. Then he came out of the

 

chicken coop and in a brief sermon warned the curious against the risks of being

 

ingenuous. He reminded them that the devil had the bad habit of making use of carnival

 

tricks in order to confuse the unwary. He argued that if wings were not the essential

 

element in determining the different between a hawk and an airplane, they were even less

 

so in the recognition of angels. Nevertheless, he promised to write a letter to his bishop so

 

that the latter would write his primate so that the latter would write to the Supreme

 

Pontiff in order to get the final verdict from the highest courts.

 

His prudence fell on sterile hearts. The news of the captive angel spread with such

 

rapidity that after a few hours the courtyard had the bustle of a marketplace and they had

 

to call in troops with fixed bayonets to disperse the mob that was about to knock the

 

house down. Elisenda, her spine all twisted from sweeping up so much marketplace trash,

 

then got the idea of fencing in the yard and charging five cents admission to see the

 

angel.

 

The curious came from far away. A traveling carnival arrived with a flying acrobat who

 

buzzed over the crowd several times, but no one paid any attention to him because his

 

wings were not those of an angel but, rather, those of a sidereal bat. The most unfortunate invalids on earth came in search of health: a poor woman who since childhood has been

 

counting her heartbeats and had run out of numbers; a Portuguese man who couldn?t

 

sleep because the noise of the stars disturbed him; a sleepwalker who got up at night to

 

undo the things he had done while awake; and many others with less serious ailments. In

 

the midst of that shipwreck disorder that made the earth tremble, Pelayo and Elisenda

 

were happy with fatigue, for in less than a week they had crammed their rooms with

 

money and the line of pilgrims waiting their turn to enter still reached beyond the

 

horizon.

 

The angel was the only one who took no part in his own act. He spent his time trying to

 

get comfortable in his borrowed nest, befuddled by the hellish heat of the oil lamps and

 

sacramental candles that had been placed along the wire. At first they tried to make him

 

eat some mothballs, which, according to the wisdom of the wise neighbor woman, were

 

the food prescribed for angels. But he turned them down, just as he turned down the papal

 

lunches that the pentinents brought him, and they never found out whether it was because

 

he was an angel or because he was an old man that in the end ate nothing but eggplant

 

mush. His only supernatural virtue seemed to be patience. Especially during the first

 

days, when the hens pecked at him, searching for the stellar parasites that proliferated in

 

his wings, and the cripples pulled out feathers to touch their defective parts with, and

 

even the most merciful threw stones at him, trying to get him to rise so they could see

 

him standing. The only time they succeeded in arousing him was when they burned his

 

side with an iron for branding steers, for he had been motionless for so many hours that

 

they thought he was dead. He awoke with a start, ranting in his hermetic language and

 

with tears in his eyes, and he flapped his wings a couple of times, which brought on a

 

whirlwind of chicken dung and lunar dust and a gale of panic that did not seem to be of

 

this world. Although many thought that his reaction had not been one of rage but of pain,

 

from then on they were careful not to annoy him, because the majority understood that

 

his passivity was not that of a hero taking his ease but that of a cataclysm in repose.

 

Father Gonzaga held back the crowd?s frivolity with formulas of maidservant inspiration

 

while awaiting the arrival of a final judgment on the nature of the captive. But the mail

 

from Rome showed no sense of urgency. They spent their time finding out if the prisoner

 

had a navel, if his dialect had any connection with Aramaic, how many times he could fit

 

on the head of a pin, or whether he wasn?t just a Norwegian with wings. Those meager

 

letters might have come and gone until the end of time if a providential event had not put

 

and end to the priest?s tribulations.

 

It so happened that during those days, among so many other carnival attractions, there

 

arrived in the town the traveling show of the woman who had been changed into a spider

 

for having disobeyed her parents. The admission to see her was not only less than the

 

admission to see the angel, but people were permitted to ask her all manner of questions

 

about her absurd state and to examine her up and down so that no one would ever doubt

 

the truth of her horror. She was a frightful tarantula the size of a ram and with the head of

 

a sad maiden. What was most heartrending, however, was not her outlandish shape but

 

the sincere affliction with which she recounted the details of her misfortune. While still

 

practically a child she had sneaked out of her parents? house to go to a dance, and while she was coming back through the woods after having danced all night without

 

permission, a fearful thunderclap rent the sky in two and through the crack came the

 

lightning bolt of brimstone that changed her into a spider. Her only nourishment came

 

from the meatballs that charitable souls chose to toss into her mouth. A spectacle like

 

that, full of so much human truth and with such a fearful lesson, was bound to defeat

 

without even trying that of a haughty angel who scarcely deigned to look at mortals.

 

Besides, the few miracles attributed to the angel showed a certain mental disorder, like

 

the blind man who didn?t recover his sight but grew three new teeth, or the paralytic who

 

didn?t get to walk but almost won the lottery, and the leper whose sores sprouted

 

sunflowers. Those consolation miracles, which were more like mocking fun, had already

 

ruined the angel?s reputation when the woman who had been changed into a spider finally

 

crushed him completely. That was how Father Gonzaga was cured forever of his

 

insomnia and Pelayo?s courtyard went back to being as empty as during the time it had

 

rained for three days and crabs walked through the bedrooms.

 

The owners of the house had no reason to lament. With the money they saved they built a

 

two-story mansion with balconies and gardens and high netting so that crabs wouldn?t get

 

in during the winter, and with iron bars on the windows so that angels wouldn?t get in.

 

Pelayo also set up a rabbit warren close to town and gave up his job as a bailiff for good,

 

and Elisenda bought some satin pumps with high heels and many dresses of iridescent

 

silk, the kind worn on Sunday by the most desirable women in those times. The chicken

 

coop was the only thing that didn?t receive any attention. If they washed it down with

 

creolin and burned tears of myrrh inside it every so often, it was not in homage to the

 

angel but to drive away the dungheap stench that still hung everywhere like a ghost and

 

was turning the new house into an old one. At first, when the child learned to walk, they

 

were careful that he not get too close to the chicken coop. But then they began to lose

 

their fears and got used to the smell, and before they child got his second teeth he?d gone

 

inside the chicken coop to play, where the wires were falling apart. The angel was no less

 

standoffish with him than with the other mortals, but he tolerated the most ingenious

 

infamies with the patience of a dog who had no illusions. They both came down with the

 

chicken pox at the same time. The doctor who took care of the child couldn?t resist the

 

temptation to listen to the angel?s heart, and he found so much whistling in the heart and

 

so many sounds in his kidneys that it seemed impossible for him to be alive. What

 

surprised him most, however, was the logic of his wings. They seemed so natural on that

 

completely human organism that he couldn?t understand why other men didn?t have them

 

too.

 

When the child began school it had been some time since the sun and rain had caused the

 

collapse of the chicken coop. The angel went dragging himself about here and there like a

 

stray dying man. They would drive him out of the bedroom with a broom and a moment

 

later find him in the kitchen. He seemed to be in so many places at the same time that

 

they grew to think that he?d be duplicated, that he was reproducing himself all through

 

the house, and the exasperated and unhinged Elisenda shouted that it was awful living in

 

that hell full of angels. He could scarcely eat and his antiquarian eyes had also become so

 

foggy that he went about bumping into posts. All he had left were the bare cannulae of his

 

last feathers. Pelayo threw a blanket over him and extended him the charity of letting him sleep in the shed, and only then did they notice that he had a temperature at night, and

 

was delirious with the tongue twisters of an old Norwegian. That was one of the few

 

times they became alarmed, for they thought he was going to die and not even the wise

 

neighbor woman had been able to tell them what to do with dead angels.

 

And yet he not only survived his worst winter, but seemed improved with the first sunny

 

days. He remained motionless for several days in the farthest corner of the courtyard,

 

where no one would see him, and at the beginning of December some large, stiff feathers

 

began to grow on his wings, the feathers of a scarecrow, which looked more like another

 

misfortune of decreptitude. But he must have known the reason for those changes, for he

 

was quite careful that no one should notice them, that no one should hear the sea chanteys

 

that he sometimes sang under the stars. One morning Elisenda was cutting some bunches

 

of onions for lunch when a wind that seemed to come from the high seas blew into the

 

kitchen. Then she went to the window and caught the angel in his first attempts at flight.

 

They were so clumsy that his fingernails opened a furrow in the vegetable patch and he

 

was on the point of knocking the shed down with the ungainly flapping that slipped on

 

the light and couldn?t get a grip on the air. But he did manage to gain altitude. Elisenda

 

let out a sigh of relief, for herself and for him, when she watched him pass over the last

 

houses, holding himself up in some way with the risky flapping of a senile vulture. She

 

kept watching him even when she was through cutting the onions and she kept on

 

watching until it was no longer possible for her to see him, because then he was no longer

 

an annoyance in her life but an imaginary dot on the horizon of the sea.

 


Solution details:
STATUS
Answered
QUALITY
Approved
ANSWER RATING

This question was answered on: Sep 18, 2020

PRICE: $15

Solution~0001003745.zip (25.37 KB)

Buy this answer for only: $15

This attachment is locked

We have a ready expert answer for this paper which you can use for in-depth understanding, research editing or paraphrasing. You can buy it or order for a fresh, original and plagiarism-free copy from our tutoring website www.aceyourhomework.com (Deadline assured. Flexible pricing. TurnItIn Report provided)

Pay using PayPal (No PayPal account Required) or your credit card . All your purchases are securely protected by .
SiteLock

About this Question

STATUS

Answered

QUALITY

Approved

DATE ANSWERED

Sep 18, 2020

EXPERT

Tutor

ANSWER RATING

GET INSTANT HELP/h4>

We have top-notch tutors who can do your essay/homework for you at a reasonable cost and then you can simply use that essay as a template to build your own arguments.

You can also use these solutions:

  • As a reference for in-depth understanding of the subject.
  • As a source of ideas / reasoning for your own research (if properly referenced)
  • For editing and paraphrasing (check your institution's definition of plagiarism and recommended paraphrase).
This we believe is a better way of understanding a problem and makes use of the efficiency of time of the student.

NEW ASSIGNMENT HELP?

Order New Solution. Quick Turnaround

Click on the button below in order to Order for a New, Original and High-Quality Essay Solutions. New orders are original solutions and precise to your writing instruction requirements. Place a New Order using the button below.

WE GUARANTEE, THAT YOUR PAPER WILL BE WRITTEN FROM SCRATCH AND WITHIN YOUR SET DEADLINE.

Order Now