Scent of Apples Analysis

There atomic number 18 4 characters of the account Scent of Apples by Bienvenido Santos. In the story, you will wholeege or so Celestino Fabia, condolence and Roger. The fourth character is the author himself who also plays a role in the story. In my recent lurking on websites that feature blog posts about writing and reading fiction, I have come crossways an article created by a freelance writer. In her post, she explained the manner in which she writes.At first I thought I was in for a very discombobulating read, conducting that her writing style was actually not average and that her method acting may involve serious reference to classical didactic writers piece on literature textbooks. But her style was surprisingly simple. She said that onward she can write anyaffair, she needs to come up with a whiz word from which all thoughts and ideas in the article would be derived. The Scent of Apples by Bienvenido Santos reminds me of this writing style.Of course, that statement wasnt intended to pose a proportion but was just an effect of a serious and curious rumination of an amateur reader a sudden gush of ideas stemming from a coup doeil of literary schema. Nostalgia, as it seems, is the word from which the entire short story emanates. Whats more wonderful about the literary bailiwick was that the author doesnt have to be blunt to elucidate. In fact, the work is simple soon enough it can rival the literary audacities of other short stories. It is an established feel in writing that one needs to carefully think of a title of respect that makes a literary work worth reading.Santos choice of title is an effortless adherence to this rule for it runs from the literal to the metaphorical and covering, suggesting that various interpretations of readers from all ranges of literary exposure are appropriate. The story itself is a display of fine versatility a confirmation that however one interprets the title, the story wont lose its meaning. For this , The Scent of Applesis more than just a story of an immigrant Filipino. The story opened with a brief introduction of where the author was.The imagery was shiny albeit the absence of several sentences teeming with adjectives, an introduction which writers akin Sarah Dunant and J. R. R. Tolkien may consider a literary Scrooge. When I arrived in Kalamazoo it was October and the war was still on. prosperous and silver stars hung on pennants above silent windows of white and brick-red cottages . . To compensate, however, the writer brings up a scene which everyone could relate to. And why would the physical environment return when loneliness is already palpable in the mere look of a strangers face, enough to see and feel how out-of-the-way(prenominal)seeinging creep in their whole being. . . an old man burned leaves and twigs while a gray-haired woman sat on the porch, her red hands simmer down on her lap, watching the smoke rising above the elms, both of them sentiment the sa me thought perhaps, about a tall, grinning boy with his blue-blooded eyes and flying hair, who went out to war . . . The historical period in which the literary work was written also contribute to the creation of an approximately tangible environment despite the sparseness of descriptive text. One thing that unites humans into an unwritten bond of brotherhood is the war, along with the bitterness of liveliness during its span and surviving its cruelty.Everything seems to be reminiscent of souls sent to a fight falsely thought of as great for what is great in something when it takes lives, bust hearts and ends happiness? . . . where could he be solemnctly this month when leaves were crook into gold and the fragrance of gathered apples was in the wind? . . . Under the lampposts the leaves shone like bronze. And they rolled on the pavements like the ghost feet of a thousand autumns long dead, long before the boys left for faraway lands without great icy winds and stipulation of winter early in the air, lands without apple trees, the singing and the goldAmidst the sorrow of the location, the author was expected to speak before an audience regarding the culture of the Philippines, which was now becoming a lost country. It is when a Filipino husbandman, Celestino Fabia, asked about the difference between Filipinas then and now, to which the author responded that though their physical port changed, they remain the pure-hearted and nice women like their past counterparts. The farmer was pleased with the perform and he invited the author over to his house so he could witness his family.During their trip to Celestinos house the next day, the author discovered what his living in the Philippines was. And when he met his family, he was struck by their simplicity and contentedness. Celestinos life stories hit him with the realization that women, or people, regardless of whatever culture, stimulate a charitable and kind heart. That hospitality is not a racial trademark but an innate human quality. Ruth got busy with the drinks. She unplowed coming in and out of a rear room that must(prenominal) have been the kitchen and soon the table was heavy with food, fried chicken legs and rice, and spurt peas and corn on the ear.Even as we ate, Ruth kept standing, and liberation to the kitchen for more food. Roger ate like a little gentleman. Along with this, the farmers relationship with his wife manifested that theirs was a relationship beyond the feel that companionship is a commodity. They stayed with each other through thick and thin. Women, even up miles beyond the Pacific, are loving, loyal and warm-hearted the same characteristics Celestino used to describe Filipinas he was acquainted with. His wife Ruth, at some extent, went way beyond the adjectives. Ruth stayed in the hospital with Fabia.She slept in a corridor outside the patients ward and in the day time helped in scrubbing the floor and washing the dishes and cleaning the mens things. They didnt have enough money and Ruth was willing to work like a slave. Celestinos life seemed to hit a mass medium cord within the author for he offered to send news to his family back home. But the farmer declined. This scene creates the peak of the climactic revelations of the life of an immigrant Filipino in times of war. No liaison how strong the nostalgia is, or dire the desire to be home, an expat cant leave the bulge out to where he was banished.It may be because of fear of being long forgotten, or the consolation one gets from people who tried to complete them no matter if the attempt can only get them somewhere still far from nirvana. Whatever that is, the pain of an individual whose heart stretches to both ends of the world has no measure. And Bienvenido Santos clearly, albeit succinctly, showed all those truths. Thus, The Scent of Apples was an expected masterpiece. Besides, who else can understand things peculiar to the exile other than an exile himself?