write a comparison/contrast essay of 1000-1200 words
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Analyze two short stories, “Love in L.A.” and “A Good Man is Hard to Find,” in terms of their similarities and differences.
I need the answers to the following so I can put it together in essay form.
Assignment:
Please write a comparison/contrast essay of 1000-1200 words discussing the questions below. Remember to begin your paper with an engaging introduction and clear thesis statement, develop each point in the body of your paper using examples and quotes from the stories, and conclude your paper with a restatement of your thesis and closing remarks. Also, be sure to maintain your credibility by including in-text citations and a reference list correctly formatted in APA style.
1. Setting: In many ways, the two short stories are set in radically different times and places. There is, however, at least one commonality that both settings share. Discuss the differences and at least similarity.
2. Characters:
◦“Love in L.A.:” Describe Jake, the main character. What kind of man is he? Is he the story’s protagonist or antagonist? Explain your answer. Describe Mariana. How does she perceive her interactions with Jake? In what ways are his intentions different from hers?
◦“A Good Man is Hard to Find:” Discuss the personalities and motives (i.e., what does each seem to want?) of the following characters: the grandmother, Bailey, the children’s mother, the children, Red Sammy Butts, The Misfit, and the other two escaped criminals.
3. Symbolism:
◦“Love in L.A.:” Both the car and freeway are symbolic in this story. What is the deeper meaning of each?
◦“A Good Man is Hard to Find:” What do each of these symbolize: the grandmother’s hat, the town of Toomsboro (hint: “Toom” sounds strikingly similar to another word) and The Misfit’s car?
4. Themes: What are the main themes/messages of each piece? What, in other words, do you think the authors, Dagoberto Gilb and Flannery O’Connor, are trying to communicate about life and human nature in their respective stories?
5. Tone: What does Gilb’s tone seem to reveal about his attitude toward the characters and plot in “Love in L.A.?” Likewise, what does O’Connor’s tone seem to tell us about her attitude toward the characters and plot in “A Good Man is Hard to Find?”
6. Irony: In what ways do the titles of both stories contain irony?
7. Moral Codes: (A moral code is an individual’s internal set of beliefs and principles that guides their conduct toward others. Everyone has a moral code, although not everyone’s behavior is necessarily “moral” or law-abiding.)
◦“Love in L.A.:” What is Jakes’ moral code? Elaborate on your answer, using at least two examples from the story to support your opinion.
◦“A Good Man is Hard to Find:” By what moral codes do the grandmother and The Misfit live by? What external influences (upbringing, faith, experiences, etc.) have shaped their codes? Discuss the “goodness” (or lack thereof) of both characters. Do they or anyone else in the story qualify as a “good man?” Why or why not?
8. Final Thoughts: Literature intersects with many areas of our lives, often providing commentary on cultural norms, and—in the case of the O’Connor story—the influence of religion on individuals and societies. In what ways has reading “Love in L.A.” and “A Good Man is Hard to Find” impacted your own views on love, “goodness” and religious faith?
Born in Los Angeles, Dagoberto Gilb put himself through college with a variety of part time jobs, earning a B.A. and M.A. in philosophy and religion from the University of' California at Santa Barbara. He then spent sixteen years as a construction worker and Carpenter, taking time off every few months to write.
Love in L. A.
Jake slouched in a clot of near motionless traffic, in the peculiar gray of concrete,
smog, and early morning beneath the overpass of the Hollywood Freeway
on Alvarado Street. He didn't really mind because he knew how much worse it
could be trying to make a left onto the onramp. He certainly didn't do that every
day of his life, and he'd assure anyone who'd ask that he never would either.
A steady occupation had its advantages and he couldn't deny thinking about that
too. He needed an FM radio in something better than this '58 Buick he drove.
It would have crushed velvet interior with electric controls for the L. A. summer,
a nice warm heater and defroster for the winter drives at the beach, a cruise control
for those longer trips, mellow speakers front and rear of course, windows that
hum closed, snuffing out that nasty exterior noise of freeways. The fact was that
he'd probably have to change his whole style. Exotic colognes, plush, dark nightclubs,
mai tais and daiquiris, necklaced ladies in satin gowns, misty and sexy like
in a tequila ad. Jake could imagine lots of possibilities when he let himself, but
none that ended up with him pressed onto a stalled freeway.
Jake was thinking about this freedom of his so much that when he glimpsed
its green light he just went ahead and stared bye-bye to the steadily employed.
When he turned his head the same direction his windshield faced, it was maybe
one second too late. He pounced the brake pedal and steered the front wheels
away from the tiny brake lights but the smack was unavoidable. Just one second
sooner and it would only have been close. One second more and he'd be crawling
up the Toyota's trunk. As it was, it seemed like only a harmless smack, much
less solid than the one against his back bumper.
Jake considered driving past the Toyota but was afraid the traffic ahead
would make it too difficult. As he pulled up against the curb a few car lengths
ahead, it occurred to him that the traffic might have helped him get away
too. He slammed the car door twice to make sure it was closed fully and
to give himself another second more, then toured front and rear of his Buick
for damage on or near the bumpers. Not an impressionable scratch even in
the chrome. He perked up. Though the car's beauty was secondary to its ability
to start and move, the body and paint were clean except for a few minor
This stood (of his few clearcut accomplishments over the
Bcfore he spoke to the driver of the Toyota, whose looks he could see might
('scnthim with an added complication, he signaled to the driver of the car that
him, still in his car and stopped behind the Toyota, and waved his hands and
ho()khis head to let the man know there was no problem as far as he was con-
the driver waved back and started his engine.
"It didn't even scratch my paint," Jake told her in that way of his. "So how
Any damage to the car? I'm kinda hoping so, just so it takes a little
time and we can talk some. Or else you can give me your phone number
and I won't have to lay my regular b. s. on you to get it later."
I le took her smile as a good sign and relaxed. He inhaled her scent like it was
air and straightened out his less than new but not unhip clothes.
"You've got Florida plates. You look like you must be Cuban."
"My parents are from Venezuela."
"My name's Jake." He held out his hand.
"Mariana."
They shook hands like she'd never done it before in her life.
"I really am sorry about hitting you like that." He sounded genuine. He fondled
the wide dimple near the cracked taillight. "It's amazing how easy it is to
put a dent in these new cars. They're so soft they might replace waterbeds
soon." Jake was confused about how to proceed with this. So much seemed so
unlikely, but there was always possibility. "So maybe we should go out to breakfast
somewhere and talk it over."
"I don't eat breakfast."
"Some coffee then."
"Thanks, but I really can't."
"You're not married, are you? Not that that would matter that much to me.
I'm an open-minded kind a guy."
She was smiling. "I have to get to work."
"That sounds boring."
"I better get your driver's license," she said.
Jake nodded, disappointed. "One little problem," he said. "I didn't bring it. 20
I just forgot it this morning. I'm a musician," he exaggerated greatly, "and, well,
I dunno, I left my wallet in the pants I was wearing last night. If you have some
paper and a pen I'll give you my address and all that."
He followed her to the glove compartment side of her car.
"What if we don't report it to the insurance companies? I'll just get it fixed
for you."
"I don't think my dad would let me do that."
"Your dad? It's not your car?"
"He bought it for me. And I live at home."
"Right." She was slipping away from him. He went back around to the back
of her new Toyota and looked over the damage again. There was the trunk lid,
the bumper, a rear panel, a taillight.
"You do have insurance?" she asked, suspicious, as she came around the back
of the car.
"Oh yeah," he lied.
"I guess you better write the name of that down too."
He made up a last name and address and wrote down ance company an old girlfriend once belonged to considered giving a n'al
phone number but went against that idea and made one up.
"I act too," he lied to enhance the effect more. "Been in a couple of movies."
She smiled like a fan.
"So how about your phone number?" He was rebounding maturely.
She gave it to him.
"Mariana, you are beautiful," he said in his most sincere voice.
"Call me," she said timidly.
Jake beamed. "We'll see you, Mariana," he said holding out his hand. Her
hand felt so warm and soft he felt like he'd been kissed.
Back in his car he took a moment or two to feel both proud and sad about
his performance. Then he watched the rear view mirror as Mariana pulled up
behind him. She was writing down the license plate numbers on his Buick,
ones that he'd taken off a junk because the ones that belonged to his had
expired so long ago. He turned the ignition key and revved the big engine and
clicked into drive. His sense of freedom swelled as he drove into the now moving
street traffic, though he couldn't stop the thought about that FM stereo
radio and crushed velvet interior and the new car smell that would even make
it better.
(1993)
