The Landlady – By Roald Dahl.

Linguistic and content analysis of The Landlady by Roald Dahl.

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The Landlady by Roald Dahl is one of his most intriguing pieces This is because it both contains and contradicts many stereotypes regarding men and women during that time period. Most interesting, however, is the fact that Todorov’s narrative theory does not apply in this case. Albeit, it starts off fairly normally and calm, with a young and confident man by the name of Billy looking for a place to stay as he’s been assigned to a new office, however, things slowly take a turn for the worst. The first stereotype we encounter is, in fact, the title. The term “Landlady” alone is enough to come across as sexist and discriminative . For one, she has been objectified, ripped of her human status and is referred to as “The landlady.” The job its self is further stereotypical – A woman who served and entertained her guests by doing all domestic chores and jobs to please the guest – A male in this case. However it can also be interpreted as giving the female the leading role; she is the centre of the story.

More minor stereotypes are used regarding Billy: He often refers to pubs and comparisons between that and a Bed and Breakfast, typical associations with masculinity. He himself appears to be quite sexist and stereotypical when he is musing about the potential Landlady – He imagines a rapacious woman, meaning aggressively greedy or grasping, with a fairly dark view of the house its self.

What follows is a series of stereotypes and contradictions surrounding the landlady in question – She appears almost instantly at the door when Billy presses the doorbell, and like a good host, is there to welcome him in. She is described as a fairly old woman in her forties or fifties who has a “warm smile” and invites Billy in “pleasantly”.  There are further descriptions of having a round pink face and gentle blue eyes, both of which are commonly used to describe an ideal woman. Gentle, referring to her frailty and general weakness in both body and mind, and pink face, a colour commonly associated with femininity.

She appears to be the perfect host, courteous and helpful – The landlady even goes as far to lower the price for Billy. It’s quite clear she wants him in this house, for some reason, which could explain how a room was ready for him despite his only recent appearance. Billy is unknowing, of course. He refers to her as “The mother of ones best school friend welcoming one into the house to stay for the Christmas holidays.” which could show his already growing trust of her.

Almost instantly, once Billy is too far in to go back without being rude -and therefore not a gentlemen- the woman’s attitude changes slightly. She instantly becomes more sexualized,  her words having various undertones and innuendos attached. She uses phrases like “We have it all to ourselves” and “Pleasure” which can both be interpreted as suggestive phrases. Then, a phrase that is often overlooked, is “taking a visitor into my little nest.” This phrase in particular seems to have heavy foreshadowing, primarily because no one goes into a bird’s nest and comes out alive other than the birds themselves. Usually, a mother bird will fly for prey and bring it back to the nest so that the younger birds may eat.

The fact that the landlady seems intent on getting Billy to stay is further emphasized by her thorough description of the house to make it more appealing and flattering Billy by referring to how she was picky with her visitors. This implies he fits her criteria, which becomes clearer later.

The Landlady’s actions only get stranger from here on – She openly admires and analyses Billy’s form, almost in a predatory fashion. This can either be interpreted as sexual or even malicious.

Shortly after leading Billy to his lodgings, she leaves fairly quickly to the kitchen to prepare dinner. Whether it’s because she is the hostess or because it was a woman’s job to do the domestic chores for a man, it’s unclear. What is clear, however, is that there is something wrong with the landlady. Her general sexual attitude and attempts at persuading Billy to stay are not typical of a hostess, and when Billy goes to sign the ledger, he finds only two names written on the same page as his. Both, sound familiar.

When Billy and his landlady (Note the use of “His”.) are discussing the familiarity of the two names, it is revealed that both men were young and handsome, just like Billy. Almost as if she has a type of guest that she prefers.

The drinking of the tea is the most intriguing part; Billy describes it as pickled walnuts, new leather, and the corridors of a hospital. These are extremely unusual and overall fairly unappealing when describing tea but they are of extreme importance in regards to foreshadowing later events in the story. They are not typical flavours one expects to taste in tea- Corridors in a hospital is the most intriguing one. Hospitals are related to sickness, ill health, bad luck and overall, death. Billy tastes death.

This is purely interpretation, of course. But considering the strange circumstances, and the fact that shortly after consuming the drink, the Landlady says something rather ominous, in regards to Mr. Mulholland, one of her two guests. Billy inquiries as to whether he recently left and the landlady replies with “Left?” She said, arching her eyebrows. “But my dear boy, he never left. He’s still here, Mr. Temple is also here. They’re on the third floor, both of them together.”

Considering the last signature on the ledger was two years ago, it’s highly unlikely that both young boys with an education and a future decided to stay in the boarding house for two years.

As Billy grows uneasy, the landlady becomes even more outgoing in her strange actions. She pats him on the knee – A very sexual action that to Billy is probably not at all comforting. She inquires about his age, and releases the information that Mr. Mulholland was also that age, reinforcing the idea that she has a preferred type of male guest.

When moving on to discuss Mr. Temple, she reveals once more that there was not a blemish on his body – Has the landlady seen Mr. Temples entire body? Enough of such to be able to get such information? I doubt a young man would allow an older woman to examine his body without necessary need to do so in the first place.

The conversation topic changes, but it doesn’t get any more pleasant. If anything, things take a darker and more twisted turn as Billy asks about the dead parrot, whom the landlady stuffed herself. The same went for the dog who is exposed in the open on the carpet, completely preserved. Although Billy calls the overall scene “fascinating” this is where my interpretations are solidified. The landlady shows no sadness or shock at having to stuff her own pets who may or may not have been close to her, as if it were a normal act.

The landlady goes on to ask Billy whether he wants another cup of tea, and this is where my assumptions are solidified. The tea apparently smells like bitter almonds – The smell of Cyanide. There has been a large amount of evidence mounting up since the landlady’s introduction as to her actions, but it is quite clear now what was happened.

There is a quote from a book series called A Song of Fire and Ice: “Poison is a woman’s weapon.”  There is a large amount of suspicion – From hearing about Mr. Temple and Mr. Mulholland in the newspaper, perhaps their being missing, and them still being upstairs, to the landlady stuffing her dogs to preserve them and possess them infinitely, it seems that the landlady, who is never named throughout the tale, is a murderer, a stark change to the usual. Generally its men who have a higher crime rate, but in this case the landlady has turned that stereotype on its head. The term I would use for this would be “Femme Fatal” meaning an attractive and seductive woman, especially one who will ultimately cause distress to a man who becomes involved with her.

But I digress. We are discussing the language used to portray this and the stereotypes involved.

To conclude, this story is a huge change from what we originally expected, another reason as to why it does not fit Todorov’s narrative theory. In this case, it is the man whom is the helpless victim, and the sexual façade the landlady uses is a fake to hide her true motives and true identity. This is emphasized by the fact that not only is she only referred to as a nameless landlady, but also by the fact that Billy’s primary focus is her appearance and apparent lack of sanity. The fact that this was written in 1959 is surprising, as I did not expect such diversity and openness regarding this topic in particular; it is surprisingly deep analytical of typical stereotpyes regarding men and women during that time period and carefully builds upon them to create the thrilling effect that makes this story a short horror.

Gender-norms and Language *WORK IN PROGRESS*

Language and gender in a modern society.

AUTHORS NOTE: PLEASE READ. This is an extremely rough and incorrect draft I wrote due to a task in school within an hour. Most of it is biased opinions and is not under work until further notice.

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In Modern day society, gender-types and gender-norms play a vital part in understanding ones self and the others around them – It is a factor that is heavily influenced by various medias and one that carries with it several “Labels” and “Catagories” that a person must be fit into to meet society’s standards.

The term “Gender-norms” means normalities and general things that are associated with that gender, and, as a result, are expected to be followed. A girl, for example, should like pink, or be pretty. A boy, on the other hand, has to be masculine and rough. These are stereotypes for genders that have been around for centuries.

Now, with various other genders and non-binary people emerging or “coming out”, things are being turned on their head. Despite having made much progress in comparison to earlier years, such as during the 1800’s and 1900’s in which women weren’t allowed to vote, we still live in a patriarchal society where it is a woman’s fault for dressing provocatively rather than a man’s fault for violating a woman.

Language heavily factors into this situation, especially with a new sensitivty and fierceness regarding feminism, misandy and misogny. Casual terms that are accepted and used nearly everywhere in society, such as “Dude” “Bro” “Guys” are not only masculine, but also offensive to those who do not identify as male. Sexism is such a normality now days that we barely even notice it’s presence.

“…Like a girl.” Appears to be the most common “Insult.” It is often used against men and women alike, however it insinuates that if you “Throw like a girl” for example, you are weak. or pathetic. It also carries connotations of being a lesser being than males. This is an extremely demeening fact regarding women- Being a female is not something to be ashamed of.

Amongst “Like a girl.” There are several other insults that are less obvious than that. One of which, is the posession of women. By this, I mean using terms such as “MY girlfriend.” or “My dame” etcetera. Even going as far as to say “I won’t lose you again.” Despite it’s dennotations of being romantic and lovey-dovey we must take in mind that all of these words and phrases can be interpreted as owning a woman. She is mine or I won’t lose you again because you’re my prized posession so forth and so on.

All of these, no matter how minute or miniscule they may seem, are sexism commonly used in todays society. Even women use them, because it is that ingrained into our lives.

And yet females are not the only victim in this situation.

Men too are often subjected to objectification and insults. You see a hot shirtless man walking down the street? You oggle, maybe giggle with your friends and talk about the delicious abs or something.

If men do not meet a certain standards, both for other males and females, then they are discarded and considered useless. A man has to be a tough brute, however he must also be a kind and loving boyfriend. People suffer conflicts like these all the time, torn between society’s constand demands and needs. It is this effect that can permanently damage someone, mentally and physically.

Even insults are biased in regards to sexism – To the rough estimate of 200 insults used for females(A large majority of which come with animal imagery, such as bitch- A female dog often used for breeding, or a cow- A fat animal used purely for getting milk and sustenence), there are roughly only 72 male insults. I concede to the fact that for hundreds of years now, women have been submissive and subservient to their fathers and husbands, as that was common during the more archaic days, however now things have changed. We live in a time of change, a time where things are so different and people are unsure of what to think.

True, some are accepting the fact that things have changed, yet there will always be that -most likely majority- of people who stick to the old traditions, the past. These are often bigoted people born into religion or strict families who have strict beliefs.

Said people are not the only ones to blame in this situation, sadly. Feminism is also a group that has become severly misguided and corrupt over the years. Women don’t seek to overthrow men and create a society where everyone reporduced asexually or something- Women want equality. Sadly now days, as sexism increases, the aggressiveness and general idiocity of these terms become even more wrong and incorrect. Feminism can now be classed into two groups: “Equalicists” and “Misandrists.” or in more simple terms: True and fake feminists.

So, to conclude my rant explanation on how sexism is indeed common in modern day society, I’d like to leave you with this:

http://feministactivism.files.wordpress.com/2013/04/if-men-could-get-pregnant.jpg?w=300&h=233

 

Todorov’s narrative theory.

Todorov’s Narrative Theory

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Todorov firmly believed that his narrative theory was one that could be applied to nearly every film; that they all followed a narrative pattern.

This narrative pattern is made up of five primary stages.

• The first stage is Equilibrium – This is a state of peace or normality which often gets off to a positive start. This can be seen in movies such as The Lion King or something along those lines.
• The second stage is the disruption of the equilibrium via some kind of action: This may be the first time the villain appears, the first time someone dies or something goes wrong/against the protaganists choices. For example, this can be seen in Avengers when Loki appears.
• The third stage is recognition: Now after the disruption, people or one person will begin to see and realize the situation that they are in: Usually they’ll start planning how to make things better. Again, this can be seen in the Avengers in which they plan to take down Loki.
• The fourth stage is an attempt to repair the disruption: Note the word attempt. Usually this would fail; Rarely do hero’s or protaganists get things right on the first go, because where’s the fun in that? Referencing the avengers again this can be seen when they capture Loki for the first time, however he escapes.
• The last stage is the restoration of equilibrium:  This often occurs around the ending, when the villain has been defeated, everyone’s happy and things are back to normal. Back to the Avengers; After the Chuitari army is defeateed they set about restoring New York.

Todorov is correct in assuming that his theory can be applied to many films – It’s a repeteative trope that despite being seen many times never fails to bring in the viewer and amuse them. It’s a pattern we are comfortable with because it’s everything reality is not – A happy and fair place where things sort themsevles out magically or with very little consequences. In the real world, things would never follow such a pattern. Such a sever destruction as New York during the Avengers, no matter how rich one of your protags may be, would leave a huge gash in the economy and health of all it’s citizens that would take months, probably years to repair. Hero’s and magic is lacking here and movies are often an escape so that we don’t have to deal with this reality.

Fallen

“You never realize just how painful the fall is until you’re too far gone.”

Love. It’s a word casually thrown around every day – jokingly, playfully, sometimes even mockingly. But what is love? What is this powerful emotion that defines us a species?

It’s still painful to think of him, the cheeky smile that could light up the darkest of rooms with a simple twitch, those eyes which sparkled with life and joy. Those gentle, blue eyes that would never see the night sky again.

Pain, in its purest form, was almost unbearable. I couldn’t handle it – The thoughts, the emotions, the pitying and sympathetic looks from strangers – They understood nothing.

Some say that life is defined by our actions and how we live. What happens, when that cause is extinguished? My life was now meaningless, over – It revolved around him and only him and yet now he was gone. As simple as that – The brightest star of my life fading into nothingness just like my ability to live.

Some told me that he would always be with me, that the ones who love us never truly leave… How can I believe that as the tears keep flowing? Over and over, they never seem to stop – An eternal river of denial and agony that I am forced to relive over and over.

I don’t think I’d be able to tell you when I had last slept – Time, like everything else, has little meaning now. Most of my days are spent in an empty, catatonic like state where I am trapped in the torment of my own mind, with nothing but the shattered memories of my long-lost love to keep me company.

Is it wrong, to beg for death to claim me? To feel a longing for the one thing that could truly put an end to my pain?

Some call me dramatic, others call me a lost cause, and yet why should I care? Their words mean nothing to me, leaving nothing but a bitter taste in my mouth when I respond with my empty stare. It’s as though they don’t understand how it feels to fall so hard to the point of obsession, and then to be so cruelly torn away from loves embrace. I’m not stupid enough to deny the fact that I am broken; That in its self is an understatement. I am irrevocably shattered, the pieces scattered in the wind to continue an endless journey that I myself will never complete.

I will see you soon my love.

“Can you hear heaven cry, the tears of an Angel?”

A valiant opponent.

There was something predatory about the way she moved, inhuman, even. The lithe, agile form carried its self with a sense of grace and danger as the woman’s slightly crazed, cerulean blue eyes eagerly analysed the opponent standing before her. The size difference would have been slightly daunting to anyone else of Taryn’s diminutive size, and yet the smaller warrior offered a sly grin that did nothing to soothe the opponents nerves.There was reason as to why Taryn was the champion four consecutive times in a row, the feisty female possessed a fire so wild, so passionate that it consumed her very being in an inferno of rage and blood lust that left nothing but chaos and destruction in its path.

The woman’s head tilted, in a mockingly innocent fashion as the two began to circle each other traditionally. No words were exchanged, nor were they needed as they immersed themselves in the battle that was soon to begin.

It was, as expected, the larger male who made the first move. His well muscled torso lunged, faking a left whilst his sword whistled through the air where Taryn’s head previously was. Their moves, quick as lightning, created a sharp clang as metal connected with metal.  Although her opponent was faster than most overly muscled men she had fought in the past, he was still sloppy compared to the expert. During the charge, he had left his left flank exposed, which Taryn was all too happy to scrape it in an almost loving caress before they backed away into their respected positions.

It was back to analysing. Although Taryn was pleased at the sight of crimson pooling around the small wound she couldn’t allow herself to become so distracted and allow a possible failure. Defeat, was not an option.

This time, Taryn moved first – Her movements were quick and precise as she feinted right before following through with her lunge. It was a slightly less predictable move, but it was all a part of the sport – A game she savored to the point of obsession. The long, vertical gash that split open the exposed flesh of her arm was worth the grunt of pain she received from her opponent when her sword cleaved through a small portion of skin on the shoulder of the unknown man.

A shudder wrecked her body, one of pleasure as the cold blue eyes glazed over in something akin to delight and orgasmic bliss. Taryn revelled in pain, lived for it; to see the blood pool out in a beautiful  trail of pain and destruction.

Blood, in its purest form stained her blade and it seemed almost right to the excited woman. She ached for more, to feel the power coursing through her body as blood spurted out in every direction–

That was when she made her first fatal mistake. Distracted so easily by her thoughts, Taryn didn’t notice the sword until it sliced easily through the flesh of her shoulder. This time, despite the delightful groan that escaped, Taryn forced herself to remain on track as she struck out once more unexpectedly.

The block was parried, though her smaller and more agile body allowed for Taryn to spin out from underneath the strong blow and bring her sword down in a swift arc that easily tore through the thin fabric covering the man’s abdomen. Were it not highly inappropriate given the situation, Taryn would have gladly settled for ogling at the perfect set of abs that were coated in a light coat of blood that trickled seductively further below…

Tearing her gaze away from the alluring sight, Taryn cocked her head to the side with another Cheshire grin despite the slight sadness that came with the idea of bringing their game to an end. Either way, it was necessary. She had her fun, toying with the inexperienced man – The blood that clung to her weapon proved it.

Taryn’s demeanour changed immediately: Gone was the playful, carefree stance and in its place was a tense and poised position as her eyes once more roamed his body for any weaknesses, although seeing those abs again was also a pleasure.

It seemed the male was suffering more than he let on – He held himself well despite the numerous cuts and gashes he sported along his body, but there was a slight sway in his foot work that showed he was tiring. Perfect.

Perhaps tauntingly, Taryn waited a few more seconds before making her last and final move. It was a favourite action of hers, considered a signature movie by most, and for obvious reasons.

One second, Taryn stood tall and regal before the bleeding man, and the next she was spinning. To an observer, it would appear as a swift, fluid dance like movement, but very few would notice the glint of silver as it pierced through in one deep thrust, the skin of her opponents bared side. She was rewarded with a low, almost guttural cry as a kick to the back of the man’s leg sent him sprawling to the ground.

The fallen warrior clutched at his severely bleeding side, sword left abandoned metres away, but Taryn didn’t give him time to retaliate in any manner as she placed the heel of her foot on his chest.

“Your name, Warrior. What is it?” It was the first time throughout the entire fight that either of them had spoken. Taryn’s voice specifically was quiet and lethal, its tone devoid of emotions as she stared down at the dying man.

“M-Michael.” Came the  low, slightly breathy croak as his eyes flickered closed in acceptance of his fate. After all, this was what happened in the ring. Only one victor ever emerged.

“You fought valiantly, Michael. A worthy opponent.” She continued in the flat, dead tone as the sword that had been hanging limply at her side rose one last time. “May you fair well in the after life.” Taryn added before her arm dropped, a sickening squelch followed by a dull thud echoing in the silence of the empty arena. A slight snort of disdain was all Taryn gave as she tapped at the decapitated head and stepped over it carelessly.

It was the sight she had longed for since the beginning of the fight – The lifeless gaze of her victim, lying helplessly in a pool of his own blood as she ended his miserable existence. A pleasured keen escaped her mouth and Taryn gave the corpse one last, longing glance before gliding to the exit of the arena.

And she couldn’t wait until next time.

My Jolly Sailor Bold

When it came to the legend of Hollow Creek’s lake, the terms ‘Mysterious’ or ‘Superstitious’ would be an understatement. It would have simply been impossible to be so human, and look so… Perfect.Now, standing before the man, Ellia could not deny the rumours – He truly was as alluring as the tales went and were it not for the burning curiousity in her mind, there was no doubt that she would have joined the ranks of women said to obsess over him.

His impassive gaze swept over Ellia’s form openly and the newly turned eighteen year old felt a slight blush rise to her cheeks. It faded, however, once she saw the corners of his lips twitch into the ghost of a smile and his head tilt lightly in an almost mockingly innocent fashion.

“It’s not often that a human summons me.” To her own horror, Ellia found herself practically swooning at the soft, velvet like voice that floated quietly though the air. The rumours didn’t do him justice – the easiest way to describe him would be heavenly, with the way his face was sculpted like the smoothest alabaster marble that enhanced his sharp features that were covered slightly by a mop of obsidian hair that simply could not be tamed.

“So the legends are true?” She eventually replied, eyes widening even though Ellia knew there was no way someone could be so… Enchanting and be a normal human.

The secluded, solitary village of Hollows Creek was quite literally in the middle of no where – It was a comfortably little town, surrounded by miles of peaceful scenery, and if there was one con to living in such a place, it was the superstition surrounding it. This ‘legend’ was one of those superstitions.

It was a tale Ellia was all too familiar with: She could probably recite if off by heart thanks to the repetition in her childhood, but as the legend goes, Hollows Creek once lived in an era of darkness, ruled by the fear of beings who possessed inhumane powers. One of these powers, was their beauty. People were besotted with them, manipulated easily under the influence of appearance alone, let alone the silver lies that flowed.

These beings, were called Sirens.

In Greek Mythology, they are often depicted as the offspring of the river God, Achelous – Of course there is… Was no proof that such mythical creatures existed. And yet in Hollows Creek, things were different. The legend told of how these beings roamed the land in the guise of one of our own until the Goddess of harvest and fertility, Demeter, placed a curse upon the race in her eternal rage at the loss of her daughter Persephone, who had been conversing and meeting with the race shortly before her kidnapping. And so, a barrier of sorts was created, separating Siren’s and humans with one exception: Summoning.

Even those who believed in the ancient, traditional tale didn’t have faith in the bizarre ritual that was required to apparently summon forth a Siren- It was said that the calling would create a temporary tear in the barrier that would allow for one to pass through. Yet it was simple curiosity that drove Ellia to attempt said ritual. It totally wasn’t the dare her friends gave at school earlier that very day.

She was stood, ankle-deep and bare footed in the shallow end of the eerily long lake with a trail of blood trickling down the skin of her exposed arms. Droplets of crimson that created a series of ripples, diffusing outwards left a trail of strange bubbles that eventually gave way to the Adonis that had emerged from the water.

“Siren…” The word escaped her mouth in a single, awed whisper that was almost inaudible. Slowly, the glazed hazel eyes finally made their way up to meet the Siren’s own ensnaring, ethereal green and she grew heavy under the influence of lust and adoration.

“So hungry…” His voice, now akin to that of a lost little boy barely registered in Ellia mind: The pull was too strong to resist and her smaller form mindlessly glided closer through the water. “Will you help me?” His skin was impossibly soft and coated in a light coat of glistening water that shone beneath the moonlight, wrapping gently around her forearm.

Ellia was barely aware that they were moving, deeper and deeper into the lake – Her mind was elsewhere and all that mattered was him and only him.

“Come with me, Ellia.” Had Ellia even been able to respond, she most likely would have agreed anyway. The offer was irresistible but instead Ellia nodded like a lost puppy, beseechingly staring at the siren.

The clothes Ellia had wore clung to her body as they silently moved further into the lake, the water harsh and cold yet soothing  at the same time as it encased her floating body up to her neck in the trance like state. Throughout the entire ordeal, his eyes had yet to leave hers, a quite hum that began to escalate and break through the silence.

 

“Upon one summer’s morning
I carefully did stray
Down by the Walls of Wapping
Where I met a sailor gay.”Her eyes, growing tired and exhausted, drooped as a serene and almost whimsical smile appeared on her face, and although Ellia was vaguely aware of submerging into the depths of the lake it didn’t bother her. Rather, it seemed completely right; free from the world and its responsibilities.

“Conversing with a young lass
Who seemed to be in pain,
Saying, William, when you go
I fear you’ll ne’er return again.”Even as the need for air grew more desperate, and her lungs burned, pleaded to escape from the water Ellia had yet to struggle. It seemed so much nicer, to escape from the necessities of life, and as her limp body grew weaker and weaker, Ellia’s eyes flickered open briefly to stare at the distorted view of the night sky that coated the horizon in a veil of darkness.

“My heart is pierced by Cupid
I disdain all glittering gold
There is nothing can console me
But my jolly sailor bold.”

The last thing Ellia LeNore ever saw were the emerald eyes of a Siren as her lifeless body sank deeper and deeper into the uncharted depths of Hollows Creek lake, never to be seen again.