The Story Of An Hour – This article will tell you the short story entitled, ” The Story Of An Hour” by Kate Chopin with story analysis, summary and theme in English. What is the theme, summary, plot, setting, character and point of view of The Story of An Hour by Kate Chopin?
The Story Of An Hour
Knowing that Mrs. Mallard was afflicted with a heart trouble, great care was taken to break to her as gently as possible the news of her husband’s death.
It was her sister Josephine who told her, in broken sentences; veiled hints that revealed in half concealing. Her husband’s friend Richards was there, too, near her. It was he who had been in the newspaper office when intelligence of the railroad disaster was received, with Brently Mallard’s name leading the list of “killed.” He had only taken the time to assure himself of its truth by a second telegram, and had hastened to forestall any less careful, less tender friend in bearing the sad message.
She did not hear the story as many women have heard the same, with a paralyzed inability to accept its significance. She wept at once, with sudden, wild abandonment, in her sister’s arms. When the storm of grief had spent itself she went away to her room alone. She would have no one follow her.
There stood, facing the open window, a comfortable, roomy armchair. Into this she sank, pressed down by a physical exhaustion that haunted her body and seemed to reach into her soul.
She could see in the open square before her house the tops of trees that were all aquiver with the new spring life. The delicious breath of rain was in the air. In the street below a peddler was crying his wares. The notes of a distant song which someone was singing reached her faintly, and countless sparrows were twittering in the eaves.
There were patches of blue sky showing here and there through the clouds that had met and piled one above the other in the west facing her window.
She sat with her head thrown back upon the cushion of the chair, quite motionless, except when a sob came up into her throat and shook her, as a child who has cried itself to sleep continues to sob in its dreams.
She was young, with a fair, calm face, whose lines bespoke repression and even a certain strength. But now there was a dull stare in her eyes, whose gaze was fixed away off yonder on one of those patches of blue sky. It was not a glance of reflection, but rather indicated a suspension of intelligent thought.
There was something coming to her and she was waiting for it, fearfully. What was it? She did not know; it was too subtle and elusive to name. But she felt it, creeping out of the sky, reaching toward her through the sounds, the scents, the color that filled the air.
Now her bosom rose and fell tumultuously. She was beginning to recognize this thing that was approaching to possess her, and she was striving to beat it back with her will–as powerless as her two white slender hands would have been. When she abandoned herself a little whispered word escaped her slightly parted lips. She said it over and over under the breath: “free, free, free!” The vacant stare and the look of terror that had followed it went from her eyes. They stayed keen and bright. Her pulses beat fast, and the coursing blood warmed and relaxed every inch of her body.
She did not stop to ask if it were or were not a monstrous joy that held her. A clear and exalted perception enabled her to dismiss the suggestion as trivial. She knew that she would weep again when she saw the kind, tender hands folded in death; the face that had never looked save with love upon her, fixed and gray and dead. But she saw beyond that bitter moment a long procession of years to come that would belong to her absolutely. And she opened and spread her arms out to them in welcome.
There would be no one to live for during those coming years; she would live for herself. There would be no powerful will bending hers in that blind persistence with which men and women believe they have a right to impose a private will upon a fellow-creature. A kind intention or a cruel intention made the act seem no less a crime as she looked upon it in that brief moment of illumination.
And yet she had loved him–sometimes. Often she had not. What did it matter! What could love, the unsolved mystery, count for in the face of this possession of self-assertion which she suddenly recognized as the strongest impulse of her being!
“Free! Body and soul free!” she kept whispering.
Josephine was kneeling before the closed door with her lips to the keyhole, imploring for admission. “Louise, open the door! I beg; open the door–you will make yourself ill. What are you doing, Louise? For heaven’s sake open the door.”
“Go away. I am not making myself ill.” No; she was drinking in a very elixir of life through that open window.
Her fancy was running riot along those days ahead of her. Spring days, and summer days, and all sorts of days that would be her own. She breathed a quick prayer that life might be long. It was only yesterday she had thought with a shudder that life might be long.
She arose at length and opened the door to her sister’s importunities. There was a feverish triumph in her eyes, and she carried herself unwittingly like a goddess of Victory. She clasped her sister’s waist, and together they descended the stairs. Richards stood waiting for them at the bottom.
Someone was opening the front door with a latchkey. It was Brently Mallard who entered, a little travel-stained, composedly carrying his grip-sack and umbrella. He had been far from the scene of the accident, and did not even know there had been one. He stood amazed at Josephine’s piercing cry; at Richards’ quick motion to screen him from the view of his wife.
When the doctors came they said she had died of heart disease–of the joy that kills.The Short story entitled, “The Story Of An Hour,” is from americanliterature.com
The Story Of An Hour Story Analysis
The story of an hour analysis is a precise analysis of the story to further understand its underlying message. Allow us to indulge ourselves by delving into the great story analysis.
|Title||The Story Of An Hour|
|Theme||Women are more concerned with their own happiness than they are with following social norms that state that women are the happiest and most happy in marriage.|
|Genre||Short story for Modern Feminist Literature|
|Characters||Mrs. Mallard, Josephine, Brently Mallard, and Richards|
|Summary||Knowing Mrs. Mallard had heart problems, the news of her husband’s death was delivered to her as gently as possible. Mrs. Mallard sat in a chair by the window, afflicted with a “physical tiredness that tormented her body and seemed to reach into her soul” after receiving the news. Then she felt comfortable and warm, then thrilled, chanting: “No cost! Let go! ” She imagined years of joy waiting for her. After a while, Mr. Mallard arrives through the front door. Josephine screams. Mrs. Mallard died of “the joy that kills.”|
Kate Chopin The Story Of Hour
Author Kate Chopin, who was born Katherine O’Flaherty in St. Louis, Missouri on February 8, 1850 and died in 1904, is regarded as one of the 20th century’s earliest feminist novelists. She is often said to be the person who started the modern feminist literary movement. Chopin was going about her normal life as a housewife until a bad thing happened. Her husband died too soon. This changed the course of her life.
She is best known for writing The Awakening (1899), Bayou Folk (1894), A Night in Acadie (1897), Desiree’s Baby (1893), The Storm (1898), which is a sequel to her story At the ‘Cadian Ball (1892), The Story of An Hour are among her most celebrated short stories.
A lot of different writing styles were used by Chopin, taking into account her Irish and French heritage, as well as her time living in Louisiana, where Creole and Cajun influences were strong. To put it another way, she was an exceptional writer who could bring life to a blank page like few others.
The Story Of An Hour Theme
The Story Of An Hour Genre
The genre of The Story Of An Hour is a short story that belonged to the Modern Feminist Literature. According to study.com, modern feminist literature talks about important political issues, current attitudes toward women in society, or trying to break down gender-specific myths.
It is a way to show that feminism thinks that women and men are equal. Scholars argue feminist literature became “modern” by setting the date as works published during or after the 1960s (Betty Friedan, Gloria Steinem, et al.), while others credit Kate Chopin’s The Story of an Hour (1894) for kicking-off the “modern” genre.
The Story Of An Hour Characters
Time needed: 2 minutes.
Here are the characters of The Story Of An Hour.
- Mrs. Mallard
Mrs. Mallard is the main character in the story. She has a heart condition and just found out that her husband died in a train accident. At the end of the story, we learn her first name: Louise
Josephine is her sister, and when she is overcome with grief by the news, she falls into her arms.
- Brently Mallard
Brently Mallard is her husband. His name was on the list of people who were killed in the train crash.
Richards is a friend of the husband’s who was at the rail office when the telegram came with Mallard’s name on the list of people who died.
The Story Of An Hour Summary
Knowing Mrs. Mallard had heart problems, the news of her husband's death was delivered to her as gently as possible. Mrs. Mallard sat in a chair by the window, afflicted with a "physical tiredness that tormented her body and seemed to reach into her soul" after receiving the news. Then she felt comfortable and warm, then thrilled, chanting: "No cost! Let go! " She imagined years of joy waiting for her. After a while, Mr. Mallard arrives through the front door. Josephine screams. Mrs. Mallard died of "the joy that kills."
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The Story of An Hour Short Story Analysis With Summary and Theme is a presentation of the beautiful work of Kate Chopin. We could quite see how eloquent and precise her work is, and she is purposefully showing her beliefs in women’s empowerment. I am quite taken with her idea that men and women are equal in society, given the situation at the time.
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