Literary terms project

Metaphor

https://youtu.be/cZcIFtx2ge0

A metaphor is used to compare objects without like or as. Authors use metaphors to Compare an object to another. Metaphors can be very common in books and stories. They differ from simile"s because they compare without like or as.

Example: This pie is heaven.

Alliteration

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zVQQlD__HnI

Alliteration is a group of words with the same sound. Authors can use alliteration to make something seem connected or to make something sound very confusing like tongue twisters.

Example: I saw a Big, Bad, Bear.

Oxymoron

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GjML-jKbhOs

Oxymoron is a phrase with two opposite meanings. Authors may use oxymoron's to emphasize a word or to emphasize an important thing.

Example: I bought Jumbo Shrimp.

Theme

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=spxmREIZwKs

Theme is the main topic of an idea. an author uses theme to represent or to show readers what their writings are about.

Example: The theme of a the 3 little pigs is beware of strangers.

Allusion

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vUMOmBxC3Cg

Allusion is comparing something to a previous event or story to clarify something else. Authors can use allusions to quickly describe something. Identifying allusions can be hard though if you aren't keen enough.

Example: Chocolate is my Achilles Heel

The Poison Tree

I was angry with my friend;

I told my wrath, my wrath did end.

I was angry with my foe:

I told it not, my wrath did grow.

And I watered it in fears,

Night and morning with my tears:

And I sunned it with smiles,

And with soft deceitful wiles.

And it grew both day and night.

Till it bore an apple bright.

And my foe beheld it shine,

And he knew that it was mine.

And into my garden stole,

When the night had veiled the pole;

In the morning glad I see;

My foe outstretched beneath the tree.

Fish Cheeks

I fell in love with the minister's son the winter I

turned fourteen. He was not Chinese, but as white as Mary

in the manger. For Christmas I prayed for this blond-haired

boy, Robert, and a slim new American nose.

When I found out that my parents had invited the

minister's family over for Christmas Eve dinner, I cried. What

would Robert think of our shabby Chinese Christmas? What

would he think of our noisy Chinese relatives who lacked

proper American manners? What terrible disappoint-ment

would he feel upon seeing not a roasted turkey and sweet

potatoes but Chinese food?

On Christmas Eve I saw that my mother had outdone

herself in creating a strange menu. She was pulling black

veins out of the backs of fleshy prawns. The kitchen was

littered with appalling mounds of raw food: A slimy rock

cod with bulging eyes that pleaded not to be thrown into a

pan of hot oil. Tofu, which looked like stacked wedges of

rubbery white sponges. A bowl soaking dried fungus back to

life. A plate of squid, their backs crisscrossed with knife

markings so they resembled bicycle tires.

And then they arrived – the minister's family and all

my relatives in a clamor of doorbells and rumpled Christmas

packages. Robert grunted hello, and I pretended he was not

worthy of existence.

Dinner threw me deeper into despair. My relatives

licked the ends of their chopsticks and reached across the

table, dipping them into the dozen or so plates of food.

Robert and his family waited patiently for platters to be

passed to them. My relatives murmured with pleasure when

my mother brought out the whole steamed fish. Robert

grimaced. Then my father poked his chopsticks just below

the fish eye and plucked out the soft meat. "Amy, your

favorite," he said, offering me the tender fish cheek. I wanted

to disappear.

At the end of the meal my father leaned back and

belched loudly, thanking my mother for her fine cooking.

"It's a polite Chinese custom to show you are satisfied,"

explained my father to our astonished guests. Robert was

looking down at his plate with a reddened face. The minister

managed to muster up a quiet burp. I was stunned into

silence for the rest of the night.

After everyone had gone, my mother said to me,

"You want to be the same as American girls on the outside."

She handed me an early gift. It was a miniskirt in beige

tweed. "But inside you must always be Chinese. You must

be proud you are different. Your only shame is to have

shame."

And even though I didn't agree with her then, I knew

that she understood how much I had suffered during the

evening's dinner. It wasn't until many years later – long after

I had gotten over my crush on Robert – that I was able to

fully appreciate her lesson and the true purpose behind our

particular menu. For Christmas Eve that year, she had chosen

all my favorite foods.