Myself: (1.) “In introducing ‘myself’ and ‘John,’ the narrator intensifies her awkward positioning in her sentence and society; she is not even on par with ‘ordinary people like John'” (Golden 195).
Colonial mansion, a hereditary estate: John S. Bak explains that the mansion incorporates “external instruments of restraint suggestive of a prison or a mental ward” (41).
One: (1.) Gilman uses this noun to describe how the narrator “disguises her autonomy” and “conveys the narrator’s helplessness and perceived inability to change her uncomfortable situation; the repetition of ‘one’ creates a haunting echo of anonymity throughout this entry and the entire story” (Golden 195). It demonstrates “a sense of conventional acquiescence . . . ” (King 28).
Sickness: (1.) The state represents “the breaking free, even if only in the hallucination of madness . . . ” If it is the “result of her alienation from the role society expects her to play, then her insistence that she is ill is an evasion of that reality”; “In the abject helplessness of her insanity lies the means of power by which her repressed shadow can gain a form of victory” (King 25, 27, 31) (2.) This insanity “’madness,’ [is] a potent metaphor for feminine anger” (Knight 290)
Physicians: (1.) The narrator’s husband and brother represent, “The power that men possess over women…to prescribe what they may or may not do [and] . . . to diagnose -- to name what is sickness and health, abnormal and normal” (King 27).
Yellow: (1.) According to Lanser, the color in Gilman’s cultural era “applied not only to the Chinese, Japanese, and the light-skinned African-Americans but also to Jews, Poles, Hungarians, Italians, and even the Irish” and symbolized “inferiority, strangeness, cowardice, ugliness, and backwardness” (426, 427).
Writing: (1.) The undated journal entries “can be seen as a spatial indication of the narrator’s own fragmented sense of self” (Golden 193). (2.) Golden suggests that the writing is not “a place for self-expression or a safe domain” for the narrator’s newly emerging sense of self (Golden 194). (3.) The narrator is allowed “an artistic sensibility, one that evidently begins to resurface the moment that John locks her away . . . ”; but “Instead of being freed by this aesthetic and potentially liberating confrontation, however, she is defeated, destroyed, and driven to madness . . . ” (Hume 479, 480). (4.) It is also “her only opportunity to use her own discourse” (King 27). (5.) Susan S. Lanser states it “constitutes a kind of sanity in the face of the insanity of male dominance” (418). (6.) The narrator “not only reveals her unconscious awareness of her fictive design, but also leads her readers toward an understanding both of the terror and dark amusement she feels as she confronts herself-a prisoner inside the yellow wall-paper an unsavory social text created and sustained not only by men like John, but by women like Jennie, and, most horribly, herself” (Hume 480).
Mary: (1.) The nanny represents “the spiritual and maternal perfection which the narrator so conspicuously lacks. The narrator . . . fits nowhere . . . and is appropriately nameless” (Johnson 526).
Wall-paper: (1.) To the narrator it represents “her ‘repressed other’ or ‘suppressed self’” (Hume 481). (2.) It also “comes to stand (in) for whatever it is that produces the queer affect: ‘It is stripped - off the paper - in great patches . . .’ ” (Crewe 283). (3.) It is “the desire which haunts her socially conforming self: the desire for an uncanny, forbidden self, unreadable, lawless and mocking”; the paper she writes on is “’dead paper’ . . . forbidden paper . . . She creates it and it creates her” (King 29, 31).
Jennie: (1.) She represents the “husband’s sibling-surrogate, other woman, sister-in-law, nursing-sister, keeper . . . [and is] viewed by the narrator as a conjugal collaborator, enforcer, and rival claimant upon the wallpaper . . . ” (Crewe 280).
John: (1.) Hume views the narrator’s husband as “mechanistic, rigid, predictable, and sexist” (478).
I: (1.) Gilman’s use and placement of this pronoun “demonstrate a positive change in self-presentation precisely at the point when her actions dramatically compromise her sanity and condemn her to madness” and the word “becomes not an act of assertion but rather of acquiescence determined by John’s authority” (Golden 193, 195). The noun “convey[s] an emerging sense of self and conviction . . . [and] a stronger albeit fictionalized self”; it “connotes power . . . a reversal of the dynamics of power between the narrator and John” (Golden 196). (2.) It expresses the “flighty or rebellious thoughts . . .” (Crewe 275). (3.) The pronoun expresses the narrator’s inability to conform to social approval and male protection-- “patriarchal ideology.” Gilman utilizes the word to state the narrator’s unacceptable opinions in “active defiance” (King 28).
Moonlight: (1.) The narrator “comes to life at night . . . [it’s the] nocturnal world of the unconscious . . . empowering imagination” (Johnson 525).
Pattern: (1.) When compared to gymnastics, it “presents her interests as a game . . .” and expresses a “contrast between the rigidly mannered and socially acceptable behavior of her husband (and less empathically, of Jennie) and her increasing dissatisfaction with such behavior” (Hume 480).
Daylight: (1.) It depicts “masculine order and domestic routine” and “rigidly hierarchical and imaginatively sterile daylight world . . . ”; and a “conscious struggle . . . from idle fancy . . . ” (Johnson 523, 525).
Yellow Smell: (1.) The narrator withstands the strong “synaesthetic disorientation” because it adds to her fear and “the more confused she becomes . . . the clearer her vision of an emerging ‘subtext,’ in which her imprisoned double is frantically shaking the bars of her prison” (Johnson 529).
Tearing the paper: (1.) In this act, the narrator “assists the double to break free from the forms that confine her”; yet this act can also be viewed as “not intended . . . to free her from male repression, as has been suggested, but to eliminate the rebellious self which is preventing her from achieving her ego-ideal”; a “destruction of the other self” (King 25, 30, 31).
“I kept on creeping”: (1.) Beverly A. Hume describes the ironic transformation in the narrator’s husband as “by ‘fainting,’ altering his conventional role as a soothing, masculine figure to that of a stereotypically weak nineteenth-century female” (478). (2.) The “male mastery is tipped over into nightmare parody, as total abdication of power transforms itself into another form of power” (King 31).
Jane: (1.) When the narrator uses her name in the third person, she depicts “the conflict between the heroine’s two selves . . .” (King 29). (2.) Gilman’s use of this word “shows subconscious signs of resentment towards her roles of wife and mother” (Knight 290).
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