Orozcos Orientation Analysis - Book Report/Review Example

Orientation” As Orientation: Orozcos Short Story in the room ENC 1102 Mahaffey 2/20 I can think of no greater story to include in a composition course than “Orientation” by Daniel Orozco. I make this argument not due to the storys quality or deep subject matter: In terms of stirring short stories that have an incredibly interesting theme or a gripping subject, certainly anything from “The Lottery” to Asimovs “Nightfall” to many of Heinleins short stories to short stories by Twain like “The Celebrated Jumping Frog” would be better as far as teaching quality of story. This is not to say that “Orientation” is a bad story: Far from it. But what it does is teach numerous advanced techniques and stretch the bounds of English composition for students by employing techniques like second-person narration, a lack of direct descriptive language, a lack of traditional characterization techniques, and numerous other stylistic elements, all while being comical and about a relevant situation to students lives. Literature needs to connect with students to be interesting; it has to resonate with them to be remembered. Even some of the best sci-fi or classical short stories, no matter their mastery, dont resonate with all students: The subject matter is just too far removed from their every dayexperience. “Orientation” gets its appeal by describing something that students either have been through themselves or know those who have: Job orientation. Orozcos work is filled with material that is almost Kafka-esque in its absurdity. For example: People at this company must arbitrarily fill their day with what is in their inbox, no matter how long it would take, instead of simply changing their workflow. “You must pace your work. What do I mean? I’m glad you asked that. We pace our work according to the eight-hour workday. If you have twelve hours of work in your IN box, for example, you must compress that work into the eight-hour day. If you have one hour of work in your IN box, you must expand that work to fill the eight-hour day. That was a good question. Feel free to ask questions. Ask too many questions, however, and you may be let go” (Orozco, 2007, 1). This quote alone can be used to generate two exercises. First: Is Orozcos character an actual person, or intended to represent one? I think not. Orozcos introduction character is some dream figure, some devilish mockery, much like a character in a Dilbert strip. A Dilbert strip of the Pointy Haired Boss could be compared to Orozcos orientation with fruitful results. Second: Students could be asked to write a story that plays up the absurdity of everyday moments too. An exercise on Kafka, Dilbert and Orozco, creating a short story that uses magical realist elements to highlight absurdity in the real world, would be a fantastic exercise in composition. The orientation is being offered to the reader: It is second-person narration, and particularly skillful at that. Second-person narration is difficult for many reasons, not the least of which being the way that is constrains the likely description and characterization approaches. In a first-person narration, where the protagonist is the narrator, the reader is given easy insights into the narrators mind. The narrator can tell what he thinks about people, what he sees, describe rooms and situations, and make clear his motivation. A third-person narration, either omniscient or not, can similarly describe characters, environments, settings and motivations without seeming out of place or jarring. But a second-person narration will rarely have these elements, because most people do not say, “Do you see how that desk is brown and the chair is red? Enjoy the comfortable leather of the chair”. Making what the second-person storytelling says plausible is difficult, but Orozco accomplishes it beautifully. Orozco is able to describe a workplace without describing it specifically, both as emotional and physical setting. We learn about fire exits, the Mr. Coffee, and get a feel for some of the desks and design of the office. What is astonishing about this is that Orozco gives the reader a vivid feel of the office without describing much specifically whatsoever. He does not describe furniture, or the shape of the inboxes, or the layout of a room, or where the Mr. Coffee is, or what it looks like. Rather, he lets his readers schemas about offices and what they look like fill in the gaps and uses good storytelling to make the office feel real. This is an excellent technique for composition. He also creates a feeling of motion. The narrator does not say, “You are now moving towards the break room”. There is no need. We know we are moving towards the break room, or towards Larry Bagdikians desk, because the narrator acts as if hes pointing it out for us. Orozco uses the milieu of the familiar to highlight the socially absurd. There are strong magical realist elements: Whether Bagdikians six daughters hypothetically dying from a “hideous degenerative muscle disease or some rare toxic blood disorder, sprayed with semiautomatic gunfire while on a class field trip, or attacked in their bunk beds by some prowling nocturnal lunatic” or the way Anika Bloom has terrified Colin Heavey by telling him the date of his death, there are supernatural elements afoot (Orozco, 2007, 2). But they do not impinge into the story, and help to make the absurdities and contradictions of office life palpable. Contrast and juxtaposition is also used masterfully. Right after we are told about the hypothetical death of Bagdikians daughters, we are then informed helpfully, “We also have a generous vacation and sick leave policy. We have an excellent disability insurance plan. We have a stable and profitable pension fund. We get group discounts for the symphony, and block seating at the ballpark. We get commuter ticket books for the bridge. We have Direct Deposit. We are all members of Costco” (Orozco, 2007, 2). Orozco underlines the banality of corporate life with the juxtaposition with the absurd, especially as his narrator tells us for whatever no doubt absurdly contrived and arbitrary reason, we cannot touch the Mr. Coffee. Orozco also makes a powerful cast of characters without having to describe virtually any physical characteristics. Bloom has divinitory powers, Bagdikian is a family man, Heavey has a horrible fate, the narrator is a little impish but ultimately terrifying in what appears to be arbitrary cruelty. Orozcos story thus is excellent for teaching characterization. The reader gets a feel for the rigid definitions of corporate life. “This is the microwave oven. You are allowed to heat food in the microwave oven. You are not, however, allowed to cook food in the microwave oven” (Orozco, 2007, 3). The idea that there is some bright line between warming and cooking is totally absurd, yet smacks of standard corporate hypocrisy. There is also terrifying savagery hidden in Orozcos world. “Kevin Howard sits in that cubicle over there. He is a serial killer, the one they call the Carpet Cutter, responsible for the mutilations across town. We’re not supposed to know that, so do not let on. Don’t worry. His compulsion inflicts itself on strangers only, and the routine established is elaborate and unwavering. The victim must be a white male, a young adult no older than thirty, heavyset, with dark hair and eyes, and the like. The victim must be chosen at random before sunset, from a public place; the victim is followed home, and must put up a struggle; et cetera. The carnage inflicted is precise: the angle and direction of the incisions; the layering of skin and muscle tissue; the rearrangement of visceral organs; and so on. Kevin Howard does not let any of this interfere with his work. He is, in fact, our fastest typist. He types as if he were on fire” (Orozco, 2007, 5). This grisly description makes the narrator seem even more callous and cruel, as if these factors did not concern him. This thus represents both the hidden savagery of suburban life and the way monsters like Dahmer can hide there, and the way that corporate life itself has its own savagery. This could be another excellent essay: A prompt something like, “What do Kevin Howard, Anika Bloom and the narrator tell us about American life?” Finally, Orozcos story structure is unconventional. There is no drama being resolved, no climax being built up to. No character learns a lesson and no one gets the girl. It is simply a description of a time and a space, but a chilling one. Freshmen and sophomores of all races, class and gender backgrounds should be able to enjoy Orozcos juxtaposition of banal and absurd, chilling and humorous. The cognitive difficulty of imagining this office is not very difficult, as compared to the 19th century or some alien planet. It is true that some people who are not used to Western corporate life might not get it; then again, there is something universal about the arbitrariness of this office. If an instructor is concerned that students from a poorer background or from foreign countries may not get a feel for such cultural factors as orientation, a good movie to pair with the text would be Office Space or perhaps an episode of The Office. In any respect, any story is going to use elements that not everyone will immediately understand or empathize with. As far as such settings go, a modern setting that is regularly featured in media such as The Office, Office Space, Idiocracy and so forth is about as good as one can imagine. Orozcos story is actively hilarious, in a way that even Kafka does not emulate. Students will feel a wide variety of responses. This will allow them to really consider the techniques being used. Through a wide variety of techniques such as juxtaposition and contrast, clever characterization, establishing a strong narrator who gives the whole story a particular and unmistakable bent, using established schema to describe an audience, and being mercilessly conservatory of detail, Orozco masterfully weaves a tale that repeatedly plays with the audiences expectations. Works Cited Orozco, Daniel. “Orientation”. Retrieved 2/20/2011 from http://nomrad.files.wordpress.com/2007/07/orientation.pdf Read More

The orientation is being offered to the reader: It is second-person narration, and particularly skillful at that. Second-person narration is difficult for many reasons, not the least of which being the way that is constrains the likely description and characterization approaches. In a first-person narration, where the protagonist is the narrator, the reader is given easy insights into the narrators mind. The narrator can tell what he thinks about people, what he sees, describe rooms and situations, and make clear his motivation.

A third-person narration, either omniscient or not, can similarly describe characters, environments, settings and motivations without seeming out of place or jarring. But a second-person narration will rarely have these elements, because most people do not say, “Do you see how that desk is brown and the chair is red? Enjoy the comfortable leather of the chair”. Making what the second-person storytelling says plausible is difficult, but Orozco accomplishes it beautifully. Orozco is able to describe a workplace without describing it specifically, both as emotional and physical setting.

We learn about fire exits, the Mr. Coffee, and get a feel for some of the desks and design of the office. What is astonishing about this is that Orozco gives the reader a vivid feel of the office without describing much specifically whatsoever. He does not describe furniture, or the shape of the inboxes, or the layout of a room, or where the Mr. Coffee is, or what it looks like. Rather, he lets his readers schemas about offices and what they look like fill in the gaps and uses good storytelling to make the office feel real.

This is an excellent technique for composition. He also creates a feeling of motion. The narrator does not say, “You are now moving towards the break room”. There is no need. We know we are moving towards the break room, or towards Larry Bagdikians desk, because the narrator acts as if hes pointing it out for us. Orozco uses the milieu of the familiar to highlight the socially absurd. There are strong magical realist elements: Whether Bagdikians six daughters hypothetically dying from a “hideous degenerative muscle disease or some rare toxic blood disorder, sprayed with semiautomatic gunfire while on a class field trip, or attacked in their bunk beds by some prowling nocturnal lunatic” or the way Anika Bloom has terrified Colin Heavey by telling him the date of his death, there are supernatural elements afoot (Orozco, 2007, 2).

But they do not impinge into the story, and help to make the absurdities and contradictions of office life palpable. Contrast and juxtaposition is also used masterfully. Right after we are told about the hypothetical death of Bagdikians daughters, we are then informed helpfully, “We also have a generous vacation and sick leave policy. We have an excellent disability insurance plan. We have a stable and profitable pension fund. We get group discounts for the symphony, and block seating at the ballpark.

We get commuter ticket books for the bridge. We have Direct Deposit. We are all members of Costco” (Orozco, 2007, 2). Orozco underlines the banality of corporate life with the juxtaposition with the absurd, especially as his narrator tells us for whatever no doubt absurdly contrived and arbitrary reason, we cannot touch the Mr. Coffee. Orozco also makes a powerful cast of characters without having to describe virtually any physical characteristics. Bloom has divinitory powers, Bagdikian is a family man, Heavey has a horrible fate, the narrator is a little impish but ultimately terrifying in what appears to be arbitrary cruelty.

Orozcos story thus is excellent for teaching characterization. The reader gets a feel for the rigid definitions of corporate life. “This is the microwave oven. You are allowed to heat food in the microwave oven. You are not, however, allowed to cook food in the microwave oven” (Orozco, 2007, 3). The idea that there is some bright line between warming and cooking is totally absurd, yet smacks of standard corporate hypocrisy.

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