Literary Device -- Flashback

Flashback => A scene that has happened before what is taking currently taking place in the story (or play).  

In the P. Martin story, one flashback is introduced by P. Martin remembering what had happened the night he was doing his homework about Brazil.  The phrase, Last week . . . , is like a trumpet call -- or an alarm clock -- announcing the memory.    

One way to notice if the writer has used a flashback is to look at a change in the verb tense.  Now, it gets tricky:  if the story is moving along in the past tense (something that happened in the past) and then you, the reader, notice that the verb tense has changed to past perfect (something that has already happened before the event being described) chances are you are reading a memory (or flashback) a character is recalling.  

The same holds true if the story is written in present tense (meaning the action is happening while you, the reader, are reading it) and then switches to past tense.

Whew -- that's a lot of information all at once!  (More about verb tenses later)

Another way a writer creates a flashback is through the use of a transitional phrase, such a "last week" or "yesterday."  That alerts the reader to a change in time, without using an immediate change in the verb tense.  Notice that the writing is still in past tense, but then switches to the past perfect.  Think of it as the writer doing a stretching exercise before running.

Literary Devices

Analogy => In literature, a writer creates an analogy by comparing two things that are not related.  It is more extensive than a metaphor, because it can be carried out throughout the narrative.

Think about P. Martin, other characters' names, their characteristics, and the homework that has been assigned in Itchier Than Ever. 

What analogy could you draw between P. Martin and something unlike him and the others?   Think of the analogy as being a riddle that, when solved, will lead you to an understanding about something else -- something unrelated.

Salving the Itch

The very thought of the costume made him itch. He hoped his mom had extra calamine lotion handy.  (contributed by the home-schooled Godgirls)

What was worse, P. Martin wondered as he watched Kestrel poke James Vireo in the back:  his mother packing calamine lotion in his lunch box, or having a white cardboard box swiveling around his head.   Calamine lotion. . . . or, now, that marsh grass! 

Last week, while he was in his bedroom studying about Brazil, his mother was in the kitchen slicing one long strip of cardboard into the shape of a willowy blade of grass.

"You've got to be kidding," he'd said, when he walked into the kitchen, after finishing his homework. (Reading about Brazil had filled him with a craving for nuts.) 

"Oh, you'll have the most original costume that school has ever seen!" his mother had said.  "Just wait until I paint it green!"  Her smile was as long as the blade of grass.

P. Martin had lost his appetite and returned to his bedroom.  He could hear Kestrel's crackling sneer.  Maybe, just maybe, P. Martin thought, I could pour calamine lotion all over Kestrel.  

Itchier than Halloween (end of October)

As nerve-wracking as that cedar waxwing's hitting the window with a bam was, nothing was scarier than Halloween.  P. Martin dreaded Halloween.  He dreaded the costumes his mother insisted he wear.  The year she had constructed a white house from a cardboard box and bought him white sweatpants and hoodie had to be the absolute worst.  The box shifted around his head, so the two the square windows she'd cut out for his eyes never lined up.  Naturally, he tripped.  His candy spilled all over the sidewalk, which made his friends laugh, swoop up the treats, and fly off.

And, now, this year, she wanted him to dress up as marsh grass, of all things.  Marsh grass!  How worse could it get?