Antonio Tapia: It’s not that I can’t, but how can I?

Antonio Tapia, a student in my English 1A, fall 2015, tells us what it is to be a student and a man who uses technology in a way many of us don't. His essay is worth reading. Antonio, thanks for sending this to me and allowing me to share it with others.

A Reflection by Antonio Tapia

I have always had physical limitations, and as a teenager it bothered me a bit. One thing that always helped me overcome this feeling of being dependent on someone else was being able to go to school. We can learn something new every day if we put our effort into it. My mother always taught me to believe that everyone is equal to each other, but I have seen not everyone has this belief. Due to my disability I have been judged by what I can and cannot do,  but for me it’s not that I can’t, but how can I? I still do have limitations, but I always try to do my best at the things that I can do. I’m good at using a computer, and it is something I can use on my own. Technology is a tool that has allowed me to efficiently do some of my daily tasks. For now, technology has not made all things completely accessible, and sometimes I become frustrated when I can’t physically do something without someone helping me out.

Two of the devices that I use daily are my power wheelchair and respirator. I wouldn’t know what I would do without these devices. The respirator aids with my breathing, and the respirator is something I can’t live without. The wheelchair lets me go most places, and I say most because not everywhere is wheelchair accessible. Most people who do not use a wheelchair do not consider this, and sometimes I get invited somewhere that is not accessible for me, including a friend’s house or very old public buildings. Until I am able to get a wheelchair that can climb stairs, I am limited to where I can go. Some buildings have backdoors as the only accessible entrance. One of my friends calls it the VIP entry. It's his way of making me feel better as I can't always go through the front door like everyone else.

I feel that most people do judge me when we first meet, but eventually they see that they shouldn’t. That I always find a way to do the things that I want to do. Sometimes it just requires a different way for me to do something, and of course I am still human. I, too, require to socialize and have fun with others. Please don’t take this as me asking for pity, but to just recognize that I can do a lot more just in a different way.

Merry Christmas!

aters of the Mediterranean  off  Barcelon

Christmas in Catalonia. Group Swim in Barcelona. Credit: Emilio Morenatti/Associated Press. from The New York Times, December 15, 2011

Chrisas Day, the big event is a group swim in the chilly waters of the Mediterranean  off  Barcelona.

Etta, Elvis, and Charles: Merry Christmas Baby

Etta James singing "Merry Christmas, Baby"

Elvis Presley singing "Merry Christmas, Baby"

 Charles Brown singing "Merry Christmas, Baby"

1B: Raymond Carver (1938-1988)

Raymond Carver (1938-88) said in a 1977 interview,
 “I am beginning to feel like a cigarette with a body attached to it.”
Photograph by Bob Adelman, Syracuse, New York, 1984.

"A writer ought to speak about things that are important to him. . . . I tend to go back to the time and the people I knew well when I was younger and who made a very strong impression on me . . . . most of the people in my stories are poor and bewildered, that's true. The economy, that's important . . . I don't feel I'm a political writer and yet I've been attacked by right-wing critics in the U.S.A. who blame me for not painting a more smiling picture of America, for not being optimistic enough, for writing stories about the people who don't succeed. But these lives are as valid as those of the go-getters. Yes, I take unemployment, money problems, and marital problems as givens in life. People worry about their rent, their children, their home life. That's basic. That's how 80-90 percent, or God knows how many people live. I write stories about a submerged population, people who don't always have someone to speak for them. I'm sort of a witness, and, besides, that's the life I myself lived for a long time. I don't see myself as a spokesman but as a witness to these lives. I'm a writer."

--Raymond Carver

The above remarks by Carver were taken from an interview he did in spring 1987. For the complete text of this interview and one other with Carver, view this link.

Things to do when you're reading Carver

One:  [Recommended.] Watch the videos, above, about Carver.

Two: [Recommended.] Read the Carver pages at the Poetry Foundation.

Three: [Recommended.] Read Carver's interview with the Paris Review, from Summer 1983.

Four: [Recommended]:  Read articles, take your pick, on Carver that are linked at The New York Times.

Five: [Recommended]: Visit The New Yorker's Raymond Carver page.  The magazine has published many of Carver's stories and remembrances of him over the years.

The draft of the story, "Beginners," which became "What We Talk About When We Talk About Love," can be found right here. It shows Gordon Lish's edits. There is also a brief sample of Lish's edits here.

Lish's edits are an excellent example of the dynamics, or call it the conflict, that exist between writer and editor. See a discussion of Carver's July 8, 1980 letter to Lish, protesting his recent editorial cuts (some as much as 70%) of his collection of stories, What We Talk About When We Talk About Love. Letters from Carver to Lish, including the July 8, 1980 Carver letter to Lish, can be found here.

Now that you are an expert on "What We Talk About When We Talk About Love," I invite you to read "What We Talk About When We Talk About Doughnuts," from The New Yorker,  May 10, 1999.

Raymond Carver, Summer 1969. Photograph by Gordon Lish

Six: The Library of America publishes, as they say, "Authoritative texts of great American writing." They have a page on Carver. They also made a statement on Gordon Lish's editing of "Beginners"/"What We Talk About When We Talk About Love" and a letter, a tortured letter, by Carver with a plea to Lish to return the story more closely to the original. The Library of America's statement and Carver's letter appears here.
Seven:  Find "The Bath" at this site.
Eight: Find an early version of "So Much Water So Close to Home" right here. Please note, however, that this version incorrectly includes a question mark ("?") at the end of the story; it should end with a period.

Redesign of Raymond Carver book covers by Todd Hido

Nine: Carver's stories have inspired a number of films.  They include  Short Cuts by Robert Altman (and a cast of dozens, at least).  Go here to read an interview with filmmaker Altman and poet Tess Gallagher, Carver's widow. Here's Roger Ebert's review of Short Cuts. A list of other Carver-inspired films can be found at IMDB.

Ten: Listen to writer Richard Ford, a close friend of Carver, read Carver's "The Student's Wife."

Eleven: Want to learn more about Carver and his editor, Gordon Lish? Read this from The New York Review of Books.   Thanks to former English 1B student Oshin Edralin, we have a YouTube video to watch about Lish and Carver. Here it is:

Twelve: [Recommended]:  For poetry by Carver go to this site at the Poetry Foundation and click the tab for "Poems, Articles and More." Poetry Soup has a pretty good sample of his poetry, too, as does All Poetry.

Carver described, in a Paris Review interview from the Summer 1983 issue, his writing process and the hard but pleasurable work involved in doing revisions: 

"Much of this work time, understand, is given over to revising and rewriting. There's not much that I like better than to take a story that I've had around the house for a while and work it over again. It's the same with the poems I write. I'm in no hurry to send something off just after I write it, and I sometimes keep it around the house for months doing this or that to it, taking this out and putting that in. It doesn't take that long to do the first draft of the story, that usually happens in one sitting, but it does take a while to do the various versions of the story. I've done as many as twenty or thirty drafts of a story. Never less than ten or twelve drafts."

For The Paris Review's complete interview with Carver, visit this page.

Group work at its finest? Or a staged photo op? From left to right, clockwise: Kary, Elizabeth, Elia, 
Nancy, Sara, and Stephanie, take on Carver's "Fever" at Shatford Library. (June 1, 2011.)

The Carver Gang discussing "What We Talk About When We Talk About Caffeine."
Clockwise, left to right: Stephanie, Tina, Sara, Kary, Brian, Some Guy, Kim and Nancy. June 8, 2011.

In the Paris Review interview, published in the Summer 1983 issue, Carver also discussed the purpose and pleasure of fiction:

"The days are gone, if they were ever with us, when a novel or a play or a book of poems could change people's ideas about the world they live in or even about themselves. Maybe writing fiction about particular kinds of people living particular kinds of lives will allow certain areas of life to be understood a little better than they were understood before. But I'm afraid that's it, at least as far as I'm concerned. Perhaps it's different in poetry. . . . Good fiction is partly a bringing of the news from one world to another. That end is good in and of itself, I think. But changing things through fiction, changing somebody's political affiliation or the political system itself, or saving the whales or the redwood trees, no. Not if these are the kinds of changes you mean. And I don't think it should have to do any of these things, either. It doesn't have to do anything. It just has to be there for the fierce pleasure we take in doing it, and the different kind of pleasure that's taken in reading something that's durable and made to last, as well as beautiful in and of itself. Something that throws off these sparks—a persistent and steady glow, however dim."

For The Paris Review's complete interview with Carver, visit this page.

"I'm not a 'born' poet. I don't know if I'm a 'born' anything except a white American male," Carver said of himself in the Paris Review interview from the Summer 1983 issue. Photograph by Marion Ettlinger for Carver's 1985 poetry collection, Where Water Comes Together With Other Water.