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(Solved) The Turtle from The Grapes of Wrath John Steinbeck BACKGROUND The Great Depression of the 1930s was a time of profound economic distress. In 1932,...

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Write an essay in which you analyze the role that setting and character play in driving the plot events in a fiction story from the Part 2 readings. Poetry or nonfiction will not work for this assignment. The essay should contain an introduction, body, and conclusion, be 1-2 pages in length, typed, double spaced, using Times New Roman font, size 12. Please save your essay as a Word document and submit as an attachment to be graded.

• Choose a story with elements that are clearly or strongly related. For example, you might choose a story with a plot in which the setting is crucial.

• Briefly summarize the story, describing the setting(s) and the major characters.

• Analyze the ways in which setting is essential to the plot of the story. For example, in an adventure story the plot events might hinge on severe weather conditions, high altitude, or heavy snowfall.

• Analyze the ways in which the main characters are crucial to the arc of the story. For example, a reckless climber might take a risk that becomes an inciting event that drives the entire story's action.

• In your conclusion, summarize how the author's choices in creating and developing characters and establishing setting impact the sequence of events in the story.

Fiction Story for this assignment is attached below.

The Turtle from The Grapes of Wrath
John Steinbeck
BACKGROUND The Great Depression of the 1930s was a time of profound economic
distress. In 1932, one quarter of all Americans were out of work. One of many factors
contributing to the Depression was a drought in Oklahoma. The drought was so severe
that farmland literally blew away in massive dust storms. This is the situation faced by
the Joad family, whose story Steinbeck tells in his novel The Grapes of Wrath. This tale
of the turtle is the third chapter of that epic book.
The concrete highway was edged with a mat of tangled, broken, dry grass, and the
grass heads were heavy with oat beards to catch on a dog’s coat, and foxtails to tangle
in a horse’s fetlocks, and clover burrs to fasten in sheep’s wool: sleeping life waiting to
be spread and dispersed, every seed armed with an appliance of dispersal, twisting
darts and parachutes for the wind, little spears and balls of tiny thorns, and all waiting
for animals and for the wind, for a man’s trouser cuff or the hem of a woman’s skirt, all
passive but armed with appliances of activity, still, but each possessed of the anlage1 of
The sun lay on the grass and warmed it, and in the shade under the grass the insects
moved, ants and ant lions to set traps for them, grasshoppers to jump into the air and
flick their yellow wings for a second, sow bugs like little armadillos, plodding restlessly
on many tender feet. And over the grass at the roadside a land turtle crawled, turning
aside for nothing, dragging his high-domed shell over the grass. His hard legs and
yellow-nailed feet threshed slowly through the grass, not really walking, but boosting
and dragging his shell along. The barley beards slid off his shell, and the clover burrs fell
on him and rolled to the ground. His horny beak was partly opened, and his fierce,
humorous eyes, under brows like fingernails, stared straight ahead. He came over the
grass leaving a beaten trail behind him, and the hill, which was the highway
embankment, reared up ahead of him. For a moment he stopped, his head held high. He
blinked and looked up and down. At last he started to climb the embankment. Front
clawed feet reached forward but did not touch. The hind feet kicked his shell along, and
it scraped on the grass, and on the gravel. As the embankment grew steeper and
steeper, the more frantic were the efforts of the land turtle. Pushing hind legs strained
and slipped, boosting the shell along, and the horny head protruded as far as the neck
could stretch. Little by little the shell slid up the embankment until at last a parapet2
cut straight across its line of march, the shoulder of the road, a concrete wall four inches
high. As though they worked independently the hind legs pushed the shell against the
wall. The head upraised and peered over the wall to the broad smooth plain of cement.
Now the hands, braced on top of the wall, strained and lifted, and the shell came slowly
up and rested its front end on the wall. For a moment the turtle rested. A red ant ran
into the shell, into the soft skin inside the shell, and suddenly head and legs snapped in,
and the armored tail clamped in sideways. The red ant was crushed between body and
legs. And one head of wild oats was clamped into the shell by a front leg. For a long
moment the turtle lay still, and then the neck crept out and the old humorous frowning
eyes looked about and the legs and tail came out. The back legs went to work, straining
like elephant legs, and the shell tipped to an angle so that the front legs could not reach
the level cement plain. But higher and higher the hind legs boosted it, until at last the
center of balance was reached, the front tipped down, the front legs scratched at the
pavement, and it was up. But the head of wild oats was held by its stem around the
front legs. Now the going was easy, and all the legs worked, and the shell boosted along, waggling
from side to side. A sedan driven by a forty- year-old woman approached. She saw the
turtle and swung to the right, off the highway, the wheels screamed and a cloud of dust
boiled up. Two wheels lifted for a moment and then settled. The car skidded back onto
the road, and went on, but more slowly. The turtle had jerked into its shell, but now it
hurried on, for the highway was burn- ing hot. And now a light truck approached, and as
it came near, the driver saw the turtle and swerved to hit it. His front wheel struck the
edge of the shell, flipped the turtle like a tiddly-wink, spun it like a coin, and rolled it off
the highway. The truck went back to its course along the right side. Lying on its back,
the turtle was tight in its shell for a long time. But at last its legs waved in the air,
reaching for some- thing to pull it over. Its front foot caught a piece of quartz and little
by little the shell pulled over and flopped upright. The wild oat head fell out and three of
the spearhead seeds stuck in the ground. And as the turtle crawled on down the
embankment, its shell dragged dirt over the seeds. The turtle entered a dust road and
jerked itself along, drawing a wavy shallow trench in the dust with its shell. The old
humorous eyes looked ahead, and the horny beak opened a little. His yellow toe nails
slipped a fraction in the dust.


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