Narative Text

 

Narative Text

A. The definition of narrative text

Narrative text is a story with complication or problematic events and it tries to find the resolutions to solve the problems. An important part of narrative text is the narrative mode, the set of methods used to communicate the narrative through a process narration.

B. The purpose of narrative text

The Purpose of Narrative Text is to amuse or to entertain the reader with a story.

C. Generic Structures of Narrative Text

1) Orientation

Sets the scene: where and when the story happened and introduces the participants of the story: who and what is involved in the story.

2) Complication

Tells the beginning of the problems which leads to the crisis (climax) of the main participants.

3) Resolution

The problem (the crisis) is resolved, either in a happy ending or in a sad (tragic) ending

4) Re-orientation/Coda

This is a closing remark to the story and it is optional. It consists  of  a  moral  lesson,  advice  or  teaching  from  the writer

 

 

The Last Leaf

Many artists lived in Greenwich Village in New York City. Sue and Johnsy, two artists also lived there in a studio apartment. Their rooms were at the top of an old building in Greenwich Village.

In November, it was very cold and with it a cold unseen stranger, whom the doctors called Pneumonia,stalked the city, touching one here and there with hisicy fingers. The icy fingers of Pneumonia also touchedJohnsy. She was very ill, lying in her bed and not moving at all. A doctor visited her every day but Johnsy was not getting better. One morning, the doctor spoke to Sueoutside Johnsy's room,

“I can' t help her,” the doctor said. “She is very sad and has no desire to live.Someone must make her happy again. What is she interested in?”

“She is an artist,” Sue replied. “She wants to paint a picture of bay of Naples.”

“Dia seorang artis,” jawab Sue, “dia ingin menggambar teluk Naples.”

“Painting!” said the doctor. “That won't help her!”
“Melukis!” kata dokter, “Itu tidak akan membantunya!”

Sue was distressed by this news and didn't know what to do to help Johnsy.She went into the workroom and cried and then she swaggered into Johnsy's room with her drawing board, whistling ragtime. Johnsy lay silently in her bed with her face towards the window. Sue stopped whistling, thinking Johnsy was asleep.

Sue arranged her board and began drawing to illustrate a magazine story.As Sue was sketching a figure of a hero, an Idaho cowboy, she heard a low sound,several times repeated. She went quickly to the bedside.

Johnsy's eyes were open wide. She was looking out the window and counting-counting backwards.

"Twelve," she said, and little later "eleven"; and then "ten," and "nine"; and then"eight" and "seven", almost together.

Sue looked out of the window wondering what was there to count? There was only a bare, dreary yard to be seen, and the blank side of the brick house was only a bare, dreary yard to be seen, and the blank side of the brick house twenty feet away. An old, old ivy vine, gnarled and decayed at the roots, climbed half way up the brick wall. The cold breath of autumn had stricken its leaves from the vine until its skeleton branches clung, almost bare, to the crumbling bricks.

"What is it, dear?" asked Sue.

"Six," said Johnsy, in almost a whisper. "They're falling faster now. Three days ago there were almost a hundred. My head ached when I was counting them but now it's easy. There goes another one. There are only five left now."

"Five what, dear? Tell me."

"Leaves on the ivy vine. When the last one falls I must go, too. I've known that for three days. Didn't the doctor tell you?"

"Oh, I never heard of such nonsense," complained Sue, with magnificent scorn."What have old ivy leaves to do with your getting well? Try to sleep," said Sue. "I must call Behrman up to be my model for the old hermit miner. I'll not be gone a minute. Don't try to move 'til I come back."

Old Behrman was a painter who lived on the ground floor of the same building. He was sixty years old and had always dreamed of painting a masterpiece, but unfortunately till now he was not able to fulfill his dream. Sue found Behrman in his dimly lighted apartment sitting in his chair. She told him of Johnsy's condition. Old Behrman, with his red eyes plainly streaming, shouted hiscontempt and derision for such idiotic imaginings.

Johnsy was sleeping when they went upstairs. Sue pulled the shade down to the windowsill, and motioned Behrman into the other room. In there they peered out the window fearfully at the ivy vine. Then they looked at each other for a moment without speaking. A persistent, cold rain was falling, mingled with snow.When Sue awoke from an hour's sleep the next morning she found Johnsy with dull, wide-open eyes staring at the drawn green shade.

"Pull it up; I want to see," she ordered, in a whisper. Wearily Sue obeyed."It is the last one," said Johnsy. It will fall today, and I shall die at the same time."

"Dear, dear!" said Sue, leaning her worn face down to the pillow, "think of me, ifyou won't think of yourself. What would I do?" But Johnsy did not answer.

The leaf stayed on the vine all day. That night, there was more wind and rain.When it was light enough Johnsy commanded that the shade be raised. The ivy leaf was still there.

"I've been a foolish girl, Sue," said Johnsy. “I wanted to die but the last leaf stayed on the vine to teach me a lesson. Please bring me some soup now.” “You know Sue, some day I hope to paint the Bay of Naples."

The doctor visited the girls in the afternoon. “Take good care of your friend,” he said. “She is going to get well. Now I have to go downstairs. I have to visit Mr. Behrman. He has pneumonia too. I must send him to the hospital.”

The next day the doctor said to Sue: "She's out of danger. You won.Nutrition and care now - that's all." And that afternoon Sue came to the bed where Johnsy lay, contentedly knitting a woolen shoulder scarf. "I have something to tell you, dear," she said. "Mr. Behrman died of pneumonia today in the hospital. He was ill only two days. The janitor found him the morning of the first day in his room downstairs helpless with pain. His shoes and clothing were wet through and icy cold. They couldn't imagine where he had been on such a dreadful night. And then they found a lantern, still lighted, and a ladder that had been dragged from its place, and some scattered brushes, and a palette with green and yellow colors mixed on it, and - look out the window, dear, at the last ivy leaf on the wall. Didn't you wonder why it never fluttered or moved when the wind blew? Ah, darling, it's Behrman's masterpiece - he painted it there the night that the last leaf fell.”