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Snow

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The snow I got last night at home, in California. (5 inches, with more on the way)

My friend Mr. Butler wrote a wonderful love story called “Snow.” What makes this story so wonderful is the use of voice. Butler, in all actuality, is not a female from Vietnam. He is, in fact, a balding man with grey to white hair who was born in Illinois. In the story “Snow” he takes on an entirely different persona and the language of the story reflects this. The words are short and the sentences are choppy. The language sounds like the words someone who was not a native English speaker would use.

“I was sleeping that day he came in here. It was late afternoon of the day before Christmas. Almost Christmas Eve. I am not a Christian. My mother and I are Buddhist.” In this quote the narrator gives us background knowledge on herself as well as setting the scene for the story at hand. The language here is all blunt and matter of fact (revealing of character). The words aren’t long and the sentences flow about as well as I spoke Spanish when I used to take Spanish classes. You can hear Miss Giàu narrating her story in lines like these, which this story is filled with.

She makes other references that are filled to the brim with rich culture and the newness of the English language. One such example is her continued reference to the grandfather clock. She loves the idea of time being something to be taken care of and something that will take care of you following the same vein of a grandfather would be in terms of family. She’s fond of the build of the machine and how it towers over her. “All l have to do now is sit here and listen very carefully to Grandfather as he talks to me about time,” She finishes the story by saying. The love story is blooming and her patient voice will wait and dream until the love has grown.

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