The Monkey's Paw by W.W. Jacobs

William Wymark "W. W." Jacobs (1863 – 1943) was an English author of novels and short stories. The majority of his work tended to be more on the humorous side, however he is better known for his short horror story The Monkey’s Paw. (The story is included in The Lady of the Barge)

I have to say I was pleasantly surprised. It is exactly the kind of short tale you need when you sit around a bonfire with nasty surprises lurking in the dark or a short bedtime scare for the allegedly super brave amongst friends and family. Nobody wants evil to come knocking on their door late at night.

"Father and son were at chess, the former, who possessed ideas about the game involving radical changes, putting his king into such sharp and unnecessary perils that it even provoked comment from the white-haired old lady knitting placidly by the fire."

'Hark at the Wind' shouted Mr White, in an attempt to distract his son from his own perilous mistake in the game of chess they were absorbed in. He was waiting for a guest to arrive, which would explain why he wasn't completely focused on the game.

"That's the worst of living so far out," bawled Mr. White, with sudden and unlooked-for violence; "of all the beastly, slushy, out-of-the-way places to live in, this is the worst. Pathway's a bog, and the road's a torrent. I don't know what people are thinking about. I suppose because only two houses on the road are let, they think it doesn't matter."

His son quickly bested him with a Check, followed by a determined Mate.

"Never mind, dear," said his wife soothingly; "perhaps you'll win the next one."Mr. White looked up sharply, just in time to intercept a knowing glance between mother and son. The words died away on his lips, and he hid a guilty grin in his thin grey beard.

Sergeant-Major Morris settled into a chair and made himself comfortable with a snifter of whisky. After a few drams his tongue loosened a little.

"Twenty-one years of it," said Mr. White, nodding at his wife and son. "When he went away he was a slip of a youth in the warehouse. Now look at him." "I should like to see those old temples and fakirs and jugglers," said the old man. "What was that you started telling me the other day about a monkey's paw or something, Morris?"

Morris tried to wave away the comment and change the subject but White wasn't having any of it.

"Well, it's just a bit of what you might call magic, perhaps," said the sergeant-major off-handedly. "it's just an ordinary little paw, dried to a mummy. It had a spell put on it by an old fakir," said the sergeant-major, "a very holy man. He wanted to show that fate ruled people's lives, and that those who interfered with it did so to their sorrow. He put a spell on it so that three separate men could each have three wishes from it."

So, why don't you use the three wishes yourself asked White, and was surprised when Morris replied that he had already. One would think that a man with three wishes would be a wee bit more overjoyed or at least seem happy at the prospect.

"The first man had his three wishes, yes," was the reply. "I don't know what the first two were, but the third was for death. That's how I got the paw. If you've had your three wishes, it's no good to you now, then, Morris," said the old man at last. "What do you keep it for?"

Morris wasn't sure, but he was certain that he didn't want anyone else to have the last three wishes and threw the paw in the fireplace. Old man White rushed to retrieve the artefact and enquire as to how this wishing malarkey works.

"Hold it up in your right hand and wish aloud,' said the sergeant-major, "but I warn you of the consequences. If you must wish," he said gruffly, "wish for something sensible,"as the door closed behind their guest, just in time for him to catch the last train. 

He wished for two hundred pounds and a fine crash from the piano greeted his words. He jumped a little as the paw squirmed in his hand.

 

"Well, I don't see the money," said his son, as he picked it up and placed it on the table, "and I bet I never shall. I expect you'll find the cash tied up in a big bag in the middle of your bed," said Herbert, as he bade them good-night, "and something horrible squatting up on top of the wardrobe watching you as you pocket your ill-gotten gains."

The next morning Herbert was his usual

 sarcastic self, which led to his parents discussing his behaviour and whether the paw would bring them any luck at all. Later in the day Mrs White noticed a well-dressed gentleman dithering outside. He looked as if he was trying to decide to knock on the door or not.

 "Badly hurt," he said quietly, "but he is not in any pain. He was caught in the machinery," said the visitor at length, in a low voice."The firm wished me to convey their sincere sympathy with you in your great loss."

Our only child, they wept.

"I was to say that Maw and Meggins disclaim all responsibility," continued the other. "They admit no liability at all, but in consideration of your son's services they wish to present you with a certain sum as compensation. Two hundred pounds," was the answer.

But the days passed, and expectation gave place to resignation--the hopeless resignation of the old, sometimes miscalled, apathy. Sometimes they hardly exchanged a word, for now they had nothing to talk about, and their days were long to weariness.

"The other two wishes," she replied rapidly. "We've only had one. Go down and get it quickly, and wish our boy alive again. Wish!" she cried, in a strong voice. He raised his hand. "I wish my son alive again."

The two of them sat listening to the ticking of the clock. They resigned themselves to the fact the wish hadn't worked and decided to go to bed. As they walked up the stairs they heard a soft knock on the door.

"For God's sake, don't let it in," cried the old man trembling."You're afraid of your own son," she cried, struggling. "Let me go. I'm coming, Herbert; I'm coming."There was another knock, and another. "The bolt," she cried loudly. "Come down. I can't reach it."

Mr White was on his hands and knees searching frantically for the paw. As he grasped it he whispered frantically to himself his final wish. Silently so his wife couldn't hear it.

The knocking ceased suddenly, although the echoes of it were still in the house. He heard the chair drawn back and the door opened. A cold wind rushed up the staircase, and a long loud wail of disappointment and misery from his wife gave him courage to run down to her side, and then to the gate beyond. The street lamp flickering opposite shone on a quiet and deserted road.

I guess the moral of the story is, be careful what you wish for, and that magical objects are completely unreliable when it comes to granting wishes.

Old Man and the Sea by Ernest Hemingway

 The old man caught a big fish, bigger than any fish he had ever caught. To him it was his greatest personal triumph. Hemingway skillfully ended the novel in a realm of human consciousness.

This novel earned Hemingway the Pulitzer Award which focused him to win the Nobel Prize for Literature later. To me The Old Man and the Sea is Hemingway’s real masterpiece.  Perhaps it is because I am an old man myself searching for meaning in life, the way the character in his sunset years sought to catch the biggest fish in his whole life.

He caught a big fish, bigger than any fish he had caught. And he caught it all alone in open sea to the point of fighting for his own survival. To him It was a singular personal triumph.

On his way back with his prize catch, sharks relentlessly attacked and reduced it to a mere skeleton.  Which was all that he was able to bring to shore.

Now Hemingway was caught at a dead end.  It is not the end of the story, of course.  This is not an unusual dilemma many novelists face. In fact they must create the appropriate scenario in the epilogue to guide the reader to a post-ending within a realm of freedom of thought and creativity. In many stories, the boundary of The End and the Epilogue is but a thin line.

To end a novel maybe simple with “boy meets girl” theme. It may be a puzzle like “The Lady or the Tiger.”  Or ends like a fairy tale, “they lived happily ever after.” Realism tells us that a story is but a chapter of a bigger story, and can be understood better in a series.

In my readings, the great writer had  a wastepaper basket by his side as he wrote, and needed it most towards the last part of his novel.  The author skipped the last chapter in lieu of a few pages like finishing the mortise and tenon of a master craft.

Tactfully Hemingway worked his message across, typical of his characteristic signature of his writings as shown in  For Whom the Bell Tolls, Snows of Kilimanjaro, Farewell to arms, among his novels: forceful, concise, ephemeral yet memorable, ordinary yet classical.  The old man got his biggest fish the world may never know.  This is the way of a hero - unsung and remaining incognito, leaving it to the world to judge. The hero is pitted to a cause, lives or dies in tragedy, for that cause - the human spirit lives on.  

The characters presented in The Old Man and the Sea deviate from the conventional, and even contemporary. Here are the symbolic roles played by the living and non-living, man and nature, and ultimately man and himself, leaving a great part of humanity in a bandwagon. Literature has indeed evolved into our postmodern times yet it retains the philosophy and values on which literature was founded and preserved. 

EXCERPTS FROM THE OLD MAN AND THE SEA
pp 126-127 (last two pages) Schribner NY

That afternoon there was  a party of tourists at the Terrace and looking down in the water among the empty beer cans and dead barracudas a woman saw a great white spine with a huge tail at the end that lifted and swung with the tide while the east wind blew a heavy steady sea outside the entrance to the harbor.

"What's that?" she asked a waiter and pointed to the long backbone of the great fish that as now just garbage waiting to go out with the tide. 

"Tiburon," the waiter said.  "Eshark."  He was meaning to explain what had happened.  
"I didn't know sharks had such handsome, beautifully formed tails."

"I didn't know either," her male companion said.

Up the road, in his shack, the old man was sleeping again.  He was still sleeping on his face and the boy was sitting by him watching him.  The old man was dreaming about the lions. 

Look Back in Anger Play by John Osborne

 John Osborne’s Look Back in Anger is not just a play it is an emotional storm, a cry of frustration, and a window into the turbulent life of post-war Britain. First performed in 1956, the play shattered the polite norms of British theatre, bringing forth a raw and intense portrayal of youth disillusionment, class struggle, and the complexities of love. Even decades later, its impact lingers, resonating with anyone who has ever felt trapped by society’s expectations.

The protagonist, Jimmy Porter, is a character unlike any seen before in British theatre at the time. He is intelligent but deeply frustrated, articulate yet scathing. His anger is directed at the world around him—society, the class system, and even his own wife, Alison. Jimmy embodies the ‘Angry Young Man’ movement, a term that came to define a generation of disillusioned youth struggling against the rigid structures of British society.

“There aren’t any good, brave causes left.”

This line by Jimmy encapsulates his frustration. He longs for a time when people fought for something meaningful, but in his eyes, post-war Britain is a stagnant world devoid of true passion.

Clash of Classes and Love:

At the heart of the play is Jimmy’s marriage to Alison, a woman from the upper-middle class. Their relationship is tumultuous, filled with intense love and equally intense resentment. Jimmy’s anger often turns into cruelty, and Alison, despite loving him, finds herself emotionally drained.

One of the most striking moments comes when Jimmy mocks Alison’s background:

“You’re too ignorant. There’s hardly a word I’ve spoken that you’ve understood, is there?”

His words reveal not just anger, but deep insecurity. He feels alienated, as though the world is built for people like Alison, while he is destined to fight for every bit of recognition.

Helena: A Disruptive Force

Helena, Alison’s friend, enters their world and acts as both a disruptor and a catalyst. She initially disapproves of Jimmy but eventually falls into the same emotional whirlwind, engaging in a passionate yet complicated relationship with him. Helena represents both rebellion and compromise, as she later chooses stability over emotional chaos.

Symbolism: The Ironing Board and the Squirrel and Bear Game

The play is filled with symbolism. One of the most powerful images is Alison at the ironing board, a silent witness to Jimmy’s tirades. It represents the monotonous role of women in a patriarchal society, reduced to household chores even in the face of emotional turmoil.

In contrast, the ‘squirrel and bear’ game between Jimmy and Alison shows a rare glimpse of tenderness. It represents their childlike vulnerability, the fragile love buried beneath layers of bitterness.

“You’re my beautiful, darling bear—and I’ll keep you safe.”

But this moment is fleeting, just like their happiness.

A Realistic Ending, Not a Fairytale:

Unlike traditional plays that offer resolution, Look Back in Anger leaves us in a state of uncertainty. Alison returns to Jimmy, but there is no grand reconciliation. Their cycle of love and pain continues, reflecting the reality of many relationships imperfect, unresolved, but deeply human.

“She will go on taking chances, and perhaps, one day, she will be a mother, and Jimmy will be a father.”

This line suggests hope, but also the fear that history might repeat itself.

Why Does Look Back in Anger Still Matter?

The play remains relevant because it speaks to the universal struggle against societal expectations and the search for meaning. Jimmy’s anger might seem excessive, but it is the voice of every individual who has ever felt unheard. In today’s world, where economic disparity and social frustrations still exist, Jimmy Porter’s rage is not just a thing of the past—it is a voice that refuses to be silenced.

Osborne’s play is not an easy watch, nor is it a comforting read. But it is an honest, passionate, and brutally real portrayal of life, love, and loss. And sometimes, that is exactly what we need.