The Lottery - Literary Analysis
In this, i'll analyze the different literary work. This works form by Shirley Jackson with title "The Lottery"
The Lottery
Theme:
This story tell about tradition in a village, the
tradition is took the lottery in black box and the winner should be thrown by
stone
Character:
Tessie
Hutchinson – She is unlucky
person who is chosen to win the lottery. She protests that the lottery is not
fair. Because of the winner is thrown by stone.
Old
Man Warner – He is the
oldest man in the village. He really believes to the tradition. He says that
the people who leave the tradition are crazy people.
Mr.
Summers – He is the man
who conducts the lottery. He always keeps the tradition. As we know that the
tradition, named the lottery, is not good because they throw the stone to the
winner.
Bill
Hutchinson - Tessie’s husband.
Bill first draws the marked paper, but he picks a blank paper during the second
drawing. He is fully willing to show everyone that his wife, Tessie, has drawn
the marked paper.
Mr.
Harry Graves - The
postmaster. Mr. Graves helps Mr. Summers prepare the papers for the lottery and
assists him during the ritual.
Plot:
In June 27th, in a village, there was a
tradition that took a lottery in the black box. Each head family took the
lottery and the selected family would take the lottery to choose who would win
the lottery in the family. Hutchinson family has been chosen. The member of
Hutchinson took the lottery again. The members of family were Bill (father),
Tessie (mother), Bill junior, Nancy and Dave. Finally, Tessie was chosen who
won the lottery but she refused it. She said that it was not fair. But she
could not do anything. Tessie stood in a circle and people in the village throw
stone on her.
Setting:
Setting of time: 27 June in the morning
Setting of place: in a village
Symbolic thing:
The black box – the black box represent to the
tradition. The black box in the story is no one in the town remembers the
original box. It means No one really knows how the tradition began, but they
keep following the tradition, because it has always been done.
The lottery – it
symbolizes the harsh tradition of our society, which we always do without
knowing why. In the story, the lottery is one of horrible tradition. Because of
the winner of the lottery is unlucky person. The winner is thrown by stone of
other villager.
If you want to read it first, i'll give story.
"The Lottery" (1948)
by Shirley Jackson
The morning of June 27th was clear and
sunny, with the fresh warmth of a full-summer day; the flowers were blossoming
profusely and the grass was richly green. The people of the village began to
gather in the square, between the post office and the bank, around ten o'clock;
in some towns there were so many people that the lottery took two days and had
to be started on June 2th. but in this village, where there were only about
three hundred people, the whole lottery took less than two hours, so it could
begin at ten o'clock in the morning and still be through in time to allow the
villagers to get home for noon dinner.
The
children assembled first, of course. School was recently over for the summer,
and the feeling of liberty sat uneasily on most of them; they tended to gather
together quietly for a while before they broke into boisterous play. and their
talk was still of the classroom and the teacher, of books and reprimands. Bobby
Martin had already stuffed his pockets full of stones, and the other boys soon
followed his example, selecting the smoothest and roundest stones; Bobby and
Harry Jones and Dickie Delacroix-- the villagers pronounced this name
"Dellacroy"--eventually made a great pile of stones in one corner of the
square and guarded it against the raids of the other boys. The girls stood
aside, talking among themselves, looking over their shoulders at rolled in the
dust or clung to the hands of their older brothers or sisters.
Soon
the men began to gather. surveying their own children, speaking of planting and
rain, tractors and taxes. They stood together, away from the pile of stones in
the corner, and their jokes were quiet and they smiled rather than laughed. The
women, wearing faded house dresses and sweaters, came shortly after their
menfolk. They greeted one another and exchanged bits of gossip as they went to
join their husbands. Soon the women, standing by their husbands, began to call
to their children, and the children came reluctantly, having to be called four
or five times. Bobby Martin ducked under his mother's grasping hand and ran,
laughing, back to the pile of stones. His father spoke up sharply, and Bobby
came quickly and took his place between his father and his oldest brother.
The
lottery was conducted--as were the square dances, the teen club, the Halloween
program--by Mr. Summers. who had time and energy to devote to civic activities.
He was a round-faced, jovial man and he ran the coal business, and people were
sorry for him. because he had no children and his wife was a scold. When he
arrived in the square, carrying the black wooden box, there was a murmur of
conversation among the villagers, and he waved and called. "Little late
today, folks." The postmaster, Mr. Graves, followed him, carrying a three-
legged stool, and the stool was put in the center of the square and Mr. Summers
set the black box down on it. The villagers kept their distance, leaving a
space between themselves and the stool. and when Mr. Summers said, "Some
of you fellows want to give me a hand?" there was a hesitation before two
men. Mr. Martin and his oldest son, Baxter. came forward to hold the box steady
on the stool while Mr. Summers stirred up the papers inside it.
The
original paraphernalia for the lottery had been lost long ago, and the black
box now resting on the stool had been put into use even before Old Man Warner,
the oldest man in town, was born. Mr. Summers spoke frequently to the villagers
about making a new box, but no one liked to upset even as much tradition as was
represented by the black box. There was a story that the present box had been
made with some pieces of the box that had preceded it, the one that had been
constructed when the first people settled down to make a village here. Every
year, after the lottery, Mr. Summers began talking again about a new box, but
every year the subject was allowed to fade off without anything's being done.
file:///Users/carolynsigler/Desktop/lotry.html (1 of 8)1/23/2005 7:58:04 AM The
Lottery--Shirley Jackson The black box grew shabbier each year: by now it was
no longer completely black but splintered badly along one side to show the
original wood color, and in some places faded or stained.
Mr.
Martin and his oldest son, Baxter, held the black box securely on the stool until
Mr. Summers had stirred the papers thoroughly with his hand. Because so much of
the ritual had been forgotten or discarded, Mr. Summers had been successful in
having slips of paper substituted for the chips of wood that had been used for
generations. Chips of wood, Mr. Summers had argued. had been all very well when
the village was tiny, but now that the population was more than three hundred
and likely to keep on growing, it was necessary to use something that would fit
more easily into he black box. The night before the lottery, Mr. Summers and
Mr. Graves made up the slips of paper and put them in the box, and it was then
taken to the safe of Mr. Summers' coal company and locked up until Mr. Summers
was ready to take it to the square next morning. The rest of the year, the box
was put way, sometimes one place, sometimes another; it had spent one year in
Mr. Graves's barn and another year underfoot in the post office. and sometimes
it was set on a shelf in the Martin grocery and left there.
There
was a great deal of fussing to be done before Mr. Summers declared the lottery
open. There were the lists to make up--of heads of families. heads of
households in each family. members of each household in each family. There was
the proper swearing-in of Mr. Summers by the postmaster, as the official of the
lottery; at one time, some people remembered, there had been a recital of some
sort, performed by the official of the lottery, a perfunctory. tuneless chant
that had been rattled off duly each year; some people believed that the
official of the lottery used to stand just so when he said or sang it, others
believed that he was supposed to walk among the people, but years and years ago
this p3rt of the ritual had been allowed to lapse. There had been, also, a ritual
salute, which the official of the lottery had had to use in addressing each
person who came up to draw from the box, but this also had changed with time,
until now it was felt necessary only for the official to speak to each person
approaching. Mr. Summers was very good at all this; in his clean white shirt
and blue jeans. with one hand resting carelessly on the black box. he seemed
very proper and important as he talked interminably to Mr. Graves and the
Martins.
Just
as Mr. Summers finally left off talking and turned to the assembled villagers,
Mrs. Hutchinson came hurriedly along the path to the square, her sweater thrown
over her shoulders, and slid into place in the back of the crowd. "Clean
forgot what day it was," she said to Mrs. Delacroix, who stood next to
her, and they both laughed softly. "Thought my old man was out back
stacking wood," Mrs. Hutchinson went on. "and then I looked out the
window and the kids was gone, and then I remembered it was the twentyseventh
and came a-running." She dried her hands on her apron, and Mrs. Delacroix
said, "You're in time, though. They're still talking away up there."
Mrs.
Hutchinson craned her neck to see through the crowd and found her husband and
children standing near the front. She tapped Mrs. Delacroix on the arm as a
farewell and began to make her way through the crowd. The people separated
good-humoredly to let her through: two or three people said. in voices just
loud enough to be heard across the crowd, "Here comes your, Missus,
Hutchinson," and "Bill, she made it after all." Mrs. Hutchinson
reached her husband, and Mr. Summers, who had been waiting, said cheerfully.
"Thought we were going to have to get on without you, Tessie." Mrs.
Hutchinson said. grinning, "Wouldn't have me leave m'dishes in the sink,
now, would you. Joe?," and soft laughter ran through the crowd as the
people stirred back into position after Mrs. Hutchinson's arrival.
"Well,
now." Mr. Summers said soberly, "guess we better get started, get
this over with, so's we can go back to work. Anybody ain't here?"
"Dunbar."
several people said. "Dunbar. Dunbar."
Mr.
Summers consulted his list. "Clyde Dunbar." he said. "That's
right. He's broke his leg, hasn't he? Who's drawing for him?" "Me. I
guess," a woman said. and Mr. Summers turned to look at her. "Wife
draws for her husband." Mr. Summers said. "Don't you have a grown boy
to do it for you, Janey?" Although Mr. Summers and everyone else in the
village knew the answer perfectly well, it was the business of the official of
the lottery to ask such questions formally. Mr. Summers waited with an
expression of polite interest while Mrs. Dunbar answered.
"Horace's
not but sixteen vet." Mrs. Dunbar said regretfully. "Guess I gotta
fill in for the old man this year."
"Right."
Sr. Summers said. He made a note on the list he was holding. Then he asked,
"Watson boy drawing this year?"
A
tall boy in the crowd raised his hand. "Here," he said. "I'm drawing
for my mother and me." He blinked his eyes nervously and ducked his head
as several voices in the crowd said thin#s like "Good fellow, lack."
and "Glad to see your mother's got a man to do it."
"Well,"
Mr. Summers said, "guess that's everyone. Old Man Warner make it?"
"Here,"
a voice said. and Mr. Summers nodded.
A
sudden hush fell on the crowd as Mr. Summers cleared his throat and looked at
the list. "All ready?" he called. "Now, I'll read the
names--heads of families first--and the men come up and take a paper out of the
box. Keep the paper folded in your hand without looking at it until everyone
has had a turn. Everything clear?"
The
people had done it so many times that they only half listened to the
directions: most of them were quiet. wetting their lips. not looking around.
Then Mr. Summers raised one hand high and said, "Adams." A man
disengaged himself from the crowd and came forward. "Hi. Steve." Mr.
Summers said. and Mr. Adams said. "Hi. Joe." They grinned at one
another humorlessly and nervously. Then Mr. Adams reached into the black box
and took out a folded paper. He held it firmly by one corner as he turned and
went hastily back to his place in the crowd. where he stood a little apart from
his family. not looking down at his hand.
"Allen."
Mr. Summers said. "Anderson.... Bentham."
"Seems
like there's no time at all between lotteries any more." Mrs. Delacroix
said to Mrs. Graves in the back row.
"Seems
like we got through with the last one only last week." "Time sure
goes fast.-- Mrs. Graves said.
"Clark....
Delacroix"
"There
goes my old man." Mrs. Delacroix said. She held her breath while her
husband went forward.
"Dunbar,"
Mr. Summers said, and Mrs. Dunbar went steadily to the box while one of the
women said. "Go on. Janey," and another said, "There she
goes."
"We're
next." Mrs. Graves said. She watched while Mr. Graves came around from the
side of the box, greeted Mr. Summers gravely and selected a slip of paper from
the box. By now, all through the crowd there were men holding the small folded
papers in their large hand. turning them over and over nervously Mrs. Dunbar
and her two sons stood together, Mrs. Dunbar holding the slip of paper.
"Harburt....
Hutchinson."
"Get
up there, Bill," Mrs. Hutchinson said. and the people near her laughed.
"Jones."
"They
do say," Mr. Adams said to Old Man Warner, who stood next to him,
"that over in the north village they're talking of giving up the lottery."
Old
Man Warner snorted. "Pack of crazy fools," he said. "Listening
to the young folks, nothing's good enough for them. Next thing you know,
they'll be wanting to go back to living in caves, nobody work any more, live
hat way for a while. Used to be a saying about 'Lottery in June, corn be heavy
soon.' First thing you know, we'd all be eating stewed chickweed and acorns.
There's always been a lottery," he added petulantly. "Bad enough to
see young Joe Summers up there joking with everybody."
"Some
places have already quit lotteries." Mrs. Adams said.
"Nothing
but trouble in that," Old Man Warner said stoutly. "Pack of young
fools."
"Martin."
And Bobby Martin watched his father go forward. "Overdyke.... Percy."
"I
wish they'd hurry," Mrs. Dunbar said to her older son. "I wish they'd
hurry."
"They're
almost through," her son said.
"You
get ready to run tell Dad," Mrs. Dunbar said. Mr. Summers called his own
name and then stepped forward precisely and selected a slip from the box. Then
he called, "Warner."
"Seventy-seventh
year I been in the lottery," Old Man Warner said as he went through the
crowd. "Seventy-seventh time."
"Watson" The tall boy came awkwardly
through the crowd. Someone said, "Don't be nervous, Jack," and Mr.
Summers said, "Take your time, son."
"Zanini."
After
that, there was a long pause, a breathless pause, until Mr. Summers. holding
his slip of paper in the air, said, "All right, fellows." For a
minute, no one moved, and then all the slips of paper were opened. Suddenly,
all the women began to speak at once, saving. "Who is it?,"
"Who's got it?," "Is it the Dunbars?," "Is it the
Watsons?" Then the voices began to say, "It's Hutchinson. It's
Bill," "Bill Hutchinson's got it."
"Go
tell your father," Mrs. Dunbar said to her older son.
People
began to look around to see the Hutchinsons. Bill Hutchinson was standing
quiet, staring down at the paper in his hand. Suddenly. Tessie Hutchinson shouted
to Mr. Summers. "You didn't give him time enough to take any paper he
wanted. I saw you. It wasn't fair!"
"Be
a good sport, Tessie." Mrs. Delacroix called, and Mrs. Graves said,
"All of us took the same chance."
"Shut
up, Tessie," Bill Hutchinson said.
"Well,
everyone," Mr. Summers said, "that was done pretty fast, and now
we've got to be hurrying a little more to get done in time." He consulted
his next list. "Bill," he said, "you draw for the Hutchinson
family. You got any other households in the Hutchinsons?"
"There's
Don and Eva," Mrs. Hutchinson yelled. "Make them take their
chance!" "
Daughters
draw with their husbands' families, Tessie," Mr. Summers said gently.
"You know that as well as anyone else."
"It
wasn't fair," Tessie said.
"I
guess not, Joe." Bill Hutchinson said regretfully. "My daughter draws
with her husband's family; that's only fair. And I've got no other family
except the kids."
"Then,
as far as drawing for families is concerned, it's you," Mr. Summers said
in explanation, "and as far as drawing for households is concerned, that's
you, too. Right?"
"Right,"
Bill Hutchinson said.
"How
many kids, Bill?" Mr. Summers asked formally.
"Three,"
Bill Hutchinson said.
"There's
Bill, Jr., and Nancy, and little Dave. And Tessie and me."
"All
right, then," Mr. Summers said. "Harry, you got their tickets
back?"
Mr.
Graves nodded and held up the slips of paper. "Put them in the box,
then," Mr. Summers directed. "Take Bill's and put it in."
"I
think we ought to start over," Mrs. Hutchinson said, as quietly as she
could. "I tell you it wasn't fair. You didn't give him time enough to
choose. Everybody saw that."
Mr.
Graves had selected the five slips and put them in the box. and he dropped all
the papers but those onto the ground. where the breeze caught them and lifted
them off.
"Listen,
everybody," Mrs. Hutchinson was saying to the people around her.
"Ready,
Bill?" Mr. Summers asked. and Bill Hutchinson, with one quick glance
around at his wife and children. nodded.
"Remember,"
Mr. Summers said. "take the slips and keep them folded until each person
has taken one. Harry, you help little Dave." Mr. Graves took the hand of
the little boy, who came willingly with him up to the box. "Take a paper
out of the box, Davy." Mr. Summers said. Davy put his hand into the box
and laughed. "Take just one paper." Mr. Summers said. "Harry,
you hold it for him." Mr. Graves took the child's hand and removed the
folded paper from the tight fist and held it while little Dave stood next to
him and looked up at him wonderingly.
"Nancy
next," Mr. Summers said. Nancy was twelve, and her school friends breathed
heavily as she went forward switching her skirt, and took a slip daintily from
the box
"Bill,
Jr.," Mr. Summers said, and Billy, his face red and his feet overlarge,
near knocked the box over as he got a paper out. "Tessie," Mr.
Summers said. She hesitated for a minute, looking around defiantly. and then
set her lips and went up to the box. She snatched a paper out and held it
behind her. "Bill," Mr. Summers said, and Bill Hutchinson reached
into the box and felt around, bringing his hand out at last with the slip of
paper in it.
The
crowd was quiet. A girl whispered, "I hope it's not Nancy," and the
sound of the whisper reached the edges of the crowd.
"It's
not the way it used to be." Old Man Warner said clearly. "People
ain't the way they used to be."
"All
right," Mr. Summers said. "Open the papers. Harry, you open little
Dave's." Mr. Graves opened the slip of paper and there was a general sigh
through the crowd as he held it up and everyone could see that it was blank.
Nancy and Bill. Jr.. opened theirs at the same time. and both beamed and
laughed. turning around to the crowd and holding their slips of paper above
their heads.
"Tessie,"
Mr. Summers said. There was a pause, and then Mr. Summers looked at Bill
Hutchinson, and Bill unfolded his paper and showed it. It was blank.
“It's
Tessie," Mr. Summers said, and his voice was hushed. "Show us her
paper. Bill."
Bill
Hutchinson went over to his wife and forced the slip of paper out of her hand.
It had a black spot on it, the black spot Mr. Summers had made the night before
with the heavy pencil in the coal company office. Bill Hutchinson held it up,
and there was a stir in the crowd.
"All
right, folks." Mr. Summers said. "Let's finish quickly."
Although the villagers had forgotten the ritual and lost the original black
box, they still remembered to use stones. The pile of stones the boys had made
earlier was ready; there were stones on the ground with the blowing scraps of
paper that had come out of the box Delacroix selected a stone so large she had
to pick it up with both hands and turned to Mrs. Dunbar. "Come on,"
she said. "Hurry up."
Mr.
Dunbar had small stones in both hands, and she said. gasping for breath.
"I can't run at all. You'll have to go ahead and I'll catch up with
you."
The
children had stones already. And someone gave little Davy Hutchinson few
pebbles.
Tessie
Hutchinson was in the center of a cleared space by now, and she held her hands
out desperately as the villagers moved in on her. "It isn't fair,"
she said. A stone hit her on the side of the head. Old Man Warner was saying,
"Come on, come on, everyone." Steve Adams was in the front of the
crowd of villagers, with Mrs. Graves beside him.
"It
isn't fair, it isn't right," Mrs. Hutchinson screamed, and then they were
upon her.
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