17

Like a Winding Sheet

A n n P e t r y (1908-1997)

Born into an African-American fam ily, Ann Petry grew up in the m ainly white
community' of O ld Saybrook, Connecticut. Although the fam ily was middle class
and reasonably' w ell off. Petty wras exposed to racism from an early age and has
recalled many of the incidents in her writing. After earning a Ph.D. in pharmacy,
she worked in the profession for seven years. In 1938, Petty married and went
to live in Harlem , a large African-American neighborhood in New York City,
where she began her w riting career. As a journalist there, she learned at close
hand about the struggle for survival of urban blacks.
Petty’s best-selling first novel, The Street (1946), catapulted her to fame. It
was follow ed by Country Place (1947) and The Narrows (1953); a collection of
short stories, Miss Muriel and Other Stories (1971); as w ell as children’s books
and historical biographies. Her w riting focuses on the troubled relationships
between blacks and whites. Her story “Like a W inding Sheet” received critical
acclaim and was included in Martha Foley’s Best American Short Stories o f 1946.

229
230 ■ Social Change and Injustice

LIKE A WINDING SHEET

The a c c u m u la te d stress o f livin g iti a racist society takes
a terrible toll on a fa cto ry worker.

e had planned to get up before Mae did and surprise her by fixing
H breakfast.1Instead he went back to sleep and she got out of bed so
quietly he didn’t know she wasn’t there beside him until he woke up and
heard the queer soft gurgle2 of water running out of the sink in the
bathroom.
He knew he ought to get up but instead he put his arms across his
forehead to shut the afternoon sunlight out of his eyes, pulled his legs up
close to his body, testing them to see if the ache was still in them.
Mae had finished in the bathroom. He could tell because she never
closed the door when she was in there and now the sweet smell of
talcum powder was drifting down the hall and into the bedroom. Then
he heard her coming down the hall.
“H i, babe,” she said affectionately.
“Hum ,” he grunted, and moved his arms away from his head, opened
one eye.
“It’s a nice m orning.”
“Yeah.” He rolled over and the sheet twisted around him, outlining
his thighs, his chest. “You mean afternoon, don’t ya?”
Mae looked at the twisted sheet and giggled. “Looks like a winding
sheet,” 3 she said. “A shroud— ” Laughter tangled w ith her words and she
had to pause for a moment before she could continue. “You look like a
huckleberry4— in a winding sheet— ”
“That’s no w ay to talk. Early in the day like this,” he protested.
He looked at his arms silhouetted against the white of the sheets.
They were inky black by contrast and he had to smile in spite of him self
and he lay there sm iling and savoring5the sweet sound of M ae’s giggling.
“Early?” She pointed a finger at the alarm clock on the table near the
bed and giggled again. “It’s almost four o’clock. And if you don’t spring
up out of there, you’re going to be late again.”
“W hat do you mean ‘again’?”
“Tw ice last week. Three times the w eek before. And once the week
before and— ”
“I can’t get used to sleeping in the daytim e,” he said fretfully. He
pushed his legs out from under the covers experim entally. Some of the

1 fixing breakfast making breakfast 4 huckleberry a dark blue-blackberry

2 gurgle the bubbling sound of running water 5 savoring enjoying
3 winding sheet the sheet in which a dead
body is wrapped
 Like a Winding Sheet ■ 231

ache had gone out of them but they weren’t really rested yet. “It’s too light 35
for good sleeping. And all that standing beats the hell out of my legs.” 6
“After two years you oughta be used to it,” Mae said.
He watched her as she fixed her hair, powdered her face, slipped
into a pair of blue denim overalls. She moved quickly and yet she didn’t
seem to hurry. 40
“You look like you’d had plenty of sleep,” he said lazily. He had to
get up but he kept putting the moment off, not wanting to move, yet he
didn’t dare let his legs go com pletely lim p7 because if he did he’d go
back to sleep. It was getting later and later but the thought of putting his
weight on his legs kept him lying there. 45

W hen he finally got up he had to hurry, and he gulped his breakfast

so fast that he wondered if his stomach could possibly use food thrown
at it at such a rate of speed. He was still wondering about it as he and
Mae were putting their coats on in the hall.
Mae paused to look at the calendar. “It’s the thirteenth,” she said. Then 50
a faint excitement in her voice, “W hy, it’s Friday the thirteenth.” She had
one arm in her coat sleeve and she held it there w hile she stared at the
calendar. “I oughta stay home,” she said. “I shouldn’t go outa the house.”
“Aw, don’t be a fool,” he said. “Today’s payday. And payday is a good
luck day everywhere, any w ay you look at it.” And as she stood hesitating 55
he said, “Aw, come on.”
And he was late for work again because they spent fifteen minutes
arguing before he could convince her she ought to go to w ork just the
same. He had to talk persuasively, urging her gently, and it took time.
But he couldn’t bring him self to talk to her roughly or threaten to strike 60
her like a lot of men might have done. He wasn’t made that way.
So when he reached the plant he was late and he had to w ait to
punch the time clock8 because the day-shift workers were streaming out
in long lines, in groups and bunches that im peded9 his progress.
Even now just starting his workday his legs ached. He had to force 65
him self to struggle past the outgoing workers, punch the time clock, and
get the little cart he pushed around all night, because he kept toying
w ith 10 the idea of going home and getting back in bed.
He pushed the cart out on the concrete floor, thinking that if this was
his plant he’d make a lot of changes in it. There were too many standing- 70
up jobs for one thing. H e’d figure out some w ay most of ’em could be
done sitting dowrn and he’d put a lot more benches around. And this job
he had— this job that forced him to w alk ten hours a night, pushing this
little cart, w ell, he’d turn it into a sitting-down job. One of those little
trucks they used around railroad stations would be good for a job like 75

6 beats the hell out of my legs makes my legs 9 impeded blocked

hurt badly 10 toying with considering (but not seriously)
7 go limp become weak
8 punch the time clock register on a special
clock one's time of arrival and departure
232 ■ Social Change and Injustice

this. Guys sat on a seat and the thing moved easily, taking up little room
and turning in hardly any space at all, like on a dim e.11
He pushed the cart near the foreman. He never could remember to
refer to her as the forelady even in his mind. It was funny to have a white
woman for a boss in a plant like this one. so
She was sore12 about something. He could tell by the w ay her face
was red and her eyes were half-shut until they were slits.13Probably been
out late and didn’t get enough sleep. He avoided looking at her and
hurried a little, head down, as he passed her though he couldn’t resist
stealing a glance at her out of the corner of his eye. He saw the edge of 85
the light-colored slacks she wore and the tip end of a big tan shoe.
“Hey, Johnson!” the wom an said.
The machines had started full blast.14 The w hirr and the grinding15
made the building shake, made it impossible to hear conversations. The
men and women at the machines talked to each other but looking at 90
them from just a little distance away, they appeared to be sim ply moving
their lips because you couldn’t hear what they were saying. Yet the
wom an’s voice cut across the machine sounds— harsh, angry.
He turned his head slow ly. “Good evenin’, Mrs. Scott,” he said, and
waited. 95
“You’re late again.”
“That’s right. M y legs were bothering m e.”
The wom an’s face grew redder, angrier looking. “H alf this shift comes
in late,” she said. “And you’re the worst one of all. You’re always late.
Whatsa matter w ith ya?” 100
“It’s my legs,” he said. “Somehow they don’t ever get rested. I don’t
seem to get used to sleeping days. And I just can’t get started.”
“Excuses. You guys always got excuses,” her anger grew and spread.
“Every7guy comes in here late always has an excuse. His w ife’s sick or his
grandmother died or somebody in the fam ily had to go to the hospital,” 105
she paused, drew a deep breath. “And the niggers16 is the worse. I don’t
care what’s wrong with your legs. You get in here on time. I ’m sick of you
niggers— ”
“You got the right to get mad,” heinterrupted softly. “You got the
right to cuss me four ways to Sunday17 butIain’t lettingnobody call me 110
a nigger.”
He stepped closer to her. His fists were doubled. His lips were drawn
back in a thin narrow line. A vein in his forehead stood out swollen, thick.
And the woman backed away from him, not hurriedly but slow ly—
two, three steps back. 115
“Aw, forget it,” she said. “I didn’t mean nothing by it. It slipped o u t.18
It was an accident.” The red of her face deepened until the small blood

11 turning . . . on a dime turning accurately in a 15 whirr and grinding noises made by a machine
very small space 16 niggers an insulting reference to black people
12 sore angry (colloquialism) 17 cuss me four ways to Sunday curse me every
13 slits narrow openings possible way (slang)
14 full blast at full speed 18 slipped out came out suddenly
 Like a Winding Sheet m 233

vessels in her cheeks were purple. “Go on and get to w ork,” she urged.
And she took three more slow backward steps.
He stood motionless for a moment and then turned away from the 120
sight of the red lipstick on her mouth that made him remember that the
foreman was a woman. And he couldn’t bring him self19 to hit a woman.
He felt a curious tingling20 in his fingers and he looked down at his
hands. They were clenched21 tight, hard, ready to smash some of those
small purple veins in her face. 125

He pushed the cart ahead of him, w alking slow ly. W hen he turned
his head, she was staring in his direction, m opping22 her forehead with a
dark blue handkerchief. Their eyes met and then they both looked away.
He didn’t glance in her direction again but moved past the long work
benches, carefully collecting the finished parts, going slow ly and steadily 130

up and down, and back and forth the length of the building, and as he
walked he forced him self to sw allow his anger, get rid of it.
And he succeeded so that he was able to think about what had
happened without getting upset about it. An hour went by but the
tension stayed in his hands. They were clenched and knotted on the 135
handles of the cart as though ready to aim a blow.
And he thought he should have hit her anyway, smacked her hard in
the face, felt the soft flesh of her face give under the hardness of his
hands. He tried to make his hands relax by offering them a description
of what it would have been like to strike her because he had the queer 140
feeling that his hands were not exactly a part of him anymore— they had
developed a separate life of their own over which he had no control. So
he dwelt on23 the pleasure his hands would have felt— both of them
cracking at her, first one and then the other. If he had done that his hands
W'ould have felt good now— relaxed, rested. 145

And he decided that even if he’d lost his job for it, he should have
let her have it24 and it would have been a long time, maybe the rest of
her life, before she called anybody else a nigger.
The only trouble was he couldn’t hit a woman. A woman couldn’t hit
back the same w ay a man did. But it would have been a deeply satisfying 150

thing to have cracked her narrow lips w ide open w ith just one blow,
beautifully timed and w ith all his weight in back of it. That w ay he would
have gotten rid of all the energy and tension his anger had created in
him. He kept remembering how' his heart had started pumping blood so
fast he had felt it tingle even in the tips of his fingers. 155

W ith the approach of night, fatigue25 nibbled26 at him. The corners of

his mouth drooped,27 the frown betwnen his eyes deepened, his shoulders
sagged; but his hands stayed tight and tense. As the hours dragged b y28

19 he couldn't bring himself he was unable to 24 he should have let her have it he should
persuade himself have hit her (slang)
20 tingling a prickly sensation 25 fatigue tiredness
21 clenched tightly closed 26 nibbled took little bites
22 m opping wiping 27 drooped turned down
23 dwelt on concentrated on 28 dragged by passed very slowly
234 ■ Social Change and Injustice

he noticed that the wom en workers had started to snap and snarl29 at
each other. He couldn’t hear what they said because of the sound of 160
machines but he could see the quick lip movements that sent words
tumbling from the sides of their mouths. They gestured irritably w ith their
hands and scow led30 as their mouths moved.
Their violent jerky motions told him that it was getting close on to
quitting time but somehow he felt that the night still stretched ahead of 16 s
him, composed of endless hours of steady w alking on his aching legs.
W hen the whistle finally blew he went on pushing the cart, unable to
believe that it had sounded. The whirring of the machines died away to a
murmur and he knew then that he’d really heard the whistle. He stood
still for a moment, filled w ith a relief that made him sigh. 170
Then he moved briskly, putting the cart in the storeroom, hurrying to
take his place in the line forming before the paymaster. That was another
thing he’d change, he thought. H e’d have the pay envelopes handed to
the people right at their benches so there w ouldn’t be ten or fifteen
minutes lost waiting for the pay. He always got home about fifteen 175
minutes late on payday. They did it better in the plant where Mae
worked, brought the money right to them at their benches.
He stuck his pay envelope in his pants’ pocket and follow ed the line
of workers heading for the subway in a slow-moving stream. He glanced
up at the sky. It was a nice night, the sky looked packed full to running 180
over w ith stars. And he thought if he and Mae would go right to bed
when they got home from w ork they’d catch a few hours of darkness for
sleeping. But they never did. They fooled around31— cooking and eating
and listening to the radio and he always stayed in a big chair in the living
room and went almost but not quite to sleep and when they finally got iss
to bed it was five or six in the morning and daylight was already seeping
around the edges of the sky.
He walked slow ly, putting off the moment when he would have to
plunge into the crowd hurrying toward the subway. It was a long ride to
Harlem and tonight the thought of it appalled32 him. He paused outside 190
an all-night restaurant to k ill tim e,33 so that some of the first rush of
workers would be gone when he reached the subway.
The lights in the restaurant were brilliant, enticing.34 There was life
and motion inside. And as he looked through the w indow he thought that
everything w ithin range of his eyes gleamed— the long imitation marble 195
counter, the tall stools, the white porcelain-topped tables and especially
the big metal coffee urn right near the window. Steam issued from its top
and a gas flame flickered under it— a lively, dancing, blue flame.
A lot of the workers from his shift— men and women— were lining
up near the coffee urn. He watched them w alk to the porcelain-topped 200

29 snap and snarl speak angrily 33 kill time spend time doing nothing in
30 scowled made an angry facial expression particular
31 fooled around wasted time 34 enticing inviting
32 appalled shocked
 Like a Winding Sheet ■ 235

tables carrying steaming cups of coffee and he saw that just the smell of
the coffee lessened the fatigue lines in their faces. After the first sip their
faces softened, they smiled, they began to talk and laugh.
On a sudden impulse he shoved the door open and joined the line
in front of the coffee urn. The line moved slow ly. And as he stood there 205

the smell of the coffee, the sound of the laughter and of the voices,
helped dull the sharp ache in his legs.
He didn’t pay any attention to the white girl who was serving the coffee
at the urn. He kept looking at the cups in the hands of the men who had
been ahead of him. Each time a man stepped out of the line with one of 210

the thick white cups, the fragrant steam got in his nostrils. He saw that they
walked carefully so as not to spill a single drop. There was a froth35 of
bubbles at the top of each cup and he thought about how he would let the
bubbles break against his lips before he actually took a big deep swallow.
Then it w'as his turn. “A cup of coffee,” he said, just as he had heard 215

the others say.

The white girl looked past him, put her hands up to her head and
gently lifted her hair away from the back of her neck, tossing her head
back a little.
“No more coffee for a w h ile,” she said. 220

He wasn’t certain he’d heard her correctly and he said “W hat?” blankly.
“No more coffee for a w h ile,” she repeated.
There was silence behind him and then uneasy movement. He
thought someone would say something, ask w hy or protest, but there
was only silence and then a faint shuffling sound as though the men 225

standing behind him had sim ultaneously shifted their w'eight from one
foot to the other.
He looked at the girl without saying anything. He felt his hands begin
to tingle and the tingling went all the w ay down to his finger tips so that
he glanced down at them. They were clenched tight, hard, into fists. Then 230

he looked at the girl again. W hat he wanted to do was to hit her so hard
that the scarlet lipstick on her mouth would smear and spread over her
nose, her chin, out toward her cheeks, so hard that she would never toss
her head again and refuse a man a cup of coffee because he was black.
He estimated the distance across the counter and reached forward, 235

balancing his weight on the balls of his feet, ready to let the blow go. And
then his hands fell back down to his sides because he forced himself to
lower them, to unclench them and make them dangle36 loose. The effort
took his breath away because his hands fought against him. But he couldn’t
hit her. He couldn’t even now bring himself to hit a woman, not even this 240

one, who had refused him a cup of coffee with a toss of her head. He kept
seeing the gesture w ith w'hich she had lifted the length of her blond hair
from the back of her neck as expressive of her contempt for him.
W hen he went out the door he didn’t look back. If he had he would
have seen the flickering blue flame under the shiny coffee urn being 245

35 froth bubbles on a liquid 36 dangle hang loosely

236 ■ Social Change and Injustice

extinguished.37 The line of men who had stood behind him lingered38 a
moment to watch the people drinking coffee at the tables and then they
left just as he had without having had the coffee they wanted so badly.
The girl behind the counter poured water in the urn and swabbed it out39
and as she waited for the water to run out, she lifted her hair gently from 250
the back of her neck and tossed her head before she began making a fresh
lot of coffee.
But he had walked aw'ay without a backward look, his head down, his
hands in his pockets, raging at him self and whatever it w'as inside of him
that had forced him to stand quiet and still when he wanted to strike out. 255
The subway was c row'd eel and he had to stand. He tried grasping an
overhead strap and his hands were too tense to grip it. So he moved near
the train door and stood there sw aying40 back and forth with the rocking
of the train. The roar of the train beat inside his head, making it ache and
throb, and the pain in his legs clawed up into his groin so that he seemed 260
to be bursting w ith pain and he told him self that it was due to all that
anger-born energy that had piled up in him and not been used and so it
had spread through him like a poison— from his feet and legs all the w ay
up to his head.
Mae was in the house before he was. He knew she was home before 265
he put the key in the door of the apartment. The radio was going. She
had it turned up loud and she was singing along w ith it.
“H ello, babe,” she called out, as soon as he opened the door.
He tried to say “hello” and it came out half grunt and half sigh.
“You sure sound cheerful,” she said. 270
She was in the bedroom and he went and leaned against the doorjamb.
The denim overalls she wore to work were carefully draped over the back
of a chair by the bed. She was standing in front of the dresser, tying the
sash of a yellow housecoat around her waist and chewing gum vigorously
as she admired her reflection in the mirror over the dresser. 275
“Whatsa matter?” she said. “You get bawled out41 by the boss or
somep’n?”
“Just tired,” he said slow ly. “For God’s sake, do you have to crack that
gum like that?”
“You don’t have to lissen to m e,” she said com placently.42 She patted 280
a curl in place near the side of her head and then lifted her hair away
from the back of her neck, ducking her head forward and then back.
He w inced43 away from the gesture. “W hat you got to be always
fooling w ith your hair for?” he protested.
“Say, w hat’s the matter w ith you anyway?” She turned aw ay from the 285
m irror to face him, put her hands on her hips. “You ain’t been in the
house two minutes and you’re picking on m e.” 44

37 extinguished put out 41 get bawled out be severely criticized (informal)

38 lingered stayed behind 42 complacently with self-satisfaction
39 swabbed it out cleaned itout 43 w inced made a quick facial movement of pain
40 swaying moving unsteadily 44 picking on me criticizing me
 Like a Winding Sheet ■ 237

He didn’t answer her because her eyes were angry and he didn’t want
to quarrel with her. They’d been marriedtoo long and got along toow ell
and so he walked all the w ay into the room and sat down in the chair by 290
the bed and stretched his legs out in front of him, putting his weight on
the heels of his shoes, leaning w ay back in the chair, not saying anything.
“Lissen,” she said sharply. “I ’ve got to wear those overalls again
tomorrow. You’re going to get them all wrinkled up45 leaning against them
like that.” 295

He didn’t move. He was too tired and his legs were throbbing46 now
that he had sat down. Besides the overalls were already w rinkled and
dirty, he thought. They couldn’t help but be47 for she’d w orn them all
w'eek. He leaned farther back in the chair.
“Come on, get up,” she ordered. 300
“Oh, what the hell,” 48 he said wearily, and got up from the chair. “I ’d
just as soon live in a subway.49There’d be just as much place to sit down.”
He saw that her sense of humor was struggling w ith her anger. But
her sense of humor won because she giggled.
“Aw, come on and eat,” she said. There was a coaxing50 note in her 305
voice. “You’re nothing but an old hungry nigger trying to act tough
and— ” she paused to giggle and then continued, “You— ”
He had always found her giggling pleasant and deliberately said
things that might amuse her and then waited, listening for the delicate
sound to emerge from her throat. This time he didn’t even hear the 310

giggle. He didn’t let her finish what she was saying. She was standing
close to him and that funny tingling started in his finger tips, went fast
up his arms and sent his fist shooting straight for her face.
There was the smacking sound of soft flesh being struck by a hard
object and it wasn’t until she screamed that he realized he had hit her in 315

the mouth— so hard that the dark red lipstick had blurred and spread
over her full lips, reaching up toward the tip of her nose, down toward
her chin, out toward her cheeks.
The knowledge that he had struck her seeped through him slow ly
and he was appalled but he couldn’t drag his hands away from her face. 320
He kept striking her and he thought w ith horror that something inside
him was holding him, binding him to this act, wrapping and twisting
about him so that he had to continue it. He had lost all control over his
hands. And he groped fo r5i a phrase, a word, something to describe what
this thing was like that was happening to him and he thought it was like 325

being enm eshed52 in a w inding sheet— that was it— like a winding sheet.
And even as the thought formed in his mind, his hands reached for her
face again and yet again.

45 wrinkled up creased, looking unironed 49 I'd just as soon live in a subway I'd prefer to
46 throbbing beating with pain live in a subway
47 They couldn't help but be They would have 50 coaxing pleading
to be 51 groped for searched for
48 what the hell what difference does it make? 52 enmeshed trapped
(slang exclamation)
238 ■ Social Change and Injustice

PART X First Reading

A Thinking About the Story_________________________

Could you feel the rage that was building up in Mr. Johnson, and
were you able to sympathize w ith him at the end? Did you predict
that the story would end so badly? W hat made you think that?

B Understanding the Plot___________________________

1. W hat kind of relationship do Mae and her husband have at

the start of the story? Illustrate your answer w ith concrete
examples.
2. W hat does Mr. Johnson look like when he is lying in bed?
Explain the comparison.
3- H ow does Mr. Johnson feel about working rhe night shift?
4. Is Mae superstitious?
5. W hat was offensive about the forewom an’s behavior to
Mr. Johnson? Give examples.
6. W hy didn’t Mr. Johnson hit the forewom an as he desperately
wanted to do?
7. W hat aspects of Mr. Johnson’s job increase his stress? List as
m any as possible.
8. W hat part of Mr. Johnson’s body continually suggests the
suppressed rage he feels?
9. W hy does Mr. Johnson delay going home?
10. W here do he and Mae live?
11. W hy doesn’t the girl serve coffee to Mr. Johnson? W hat does
he think the reason is?
12. W hat is the final act of the day that causes Mr. Johnson to
snap and beat up Mae?
 Like a Winding Sheet m 239

PART Second Reading

A Exploring Themes________________________________
You are now ready to reread “Like a W inding Sheet.” Look at Mr.
Johnson’s swelling rage and frustration, and consider how the
day’s events are connected.

1. W hat is the significance of the title to the central theme of the

story?
2. H ow does the story serve as a critique of factory working
conditions?
3. Exam ine closely what links the three women in the story.
W hat is the importance of these connections?
4. Is Mr. Johnson naturally violent? Explain your answer.
5. W hose point of view dominates the story? H ow is this
character’s point of view' crucial to an understanding of w'hat
happened in the restaurant?
Note: For inform ation on point of view , see page 306.
6. Explain how the reference to Mr. Johnson’s anger being“like a
poison” (lin e 263) contributes to our understanding of his
actions.

B Analyzing the Author's Style______________________

For more information on the literary terms in this section, turn to the
explanations of colloquialism (page 299), dialect (page 300), and
imagery (page 303).

COLLOQUIALISM AND DIALECT

The dialogue in “Like a W inding Sheet” is very co llo q u ia l, or
inform al, and makes liberal use of New York working-class
d ialect, in w hich words are often changed, left out, or elided
(joined). B y using language in this way, Petry reinforces the
authenticity of her characters and effectively establishes their social
class, as w ell as their prejudices. For example, w'hen Mr. Johnson
remarks that the forewom an was sore about something (line 81),
it could be more form ally rephrased as she was angry about
something. Later the forewom an snaps, “Whatsa matter with ya?”
(line 100), w hich can be rewritten in standard English as “What’s
the matter with you?” and then she adds in a racist aside, “I ’m sick
o f you niggers— . ” (lines 107-108)
240 ■ Social Change and Injustice

Rewrite the following expressions from the text in more formal English,
correcting the grammatical errors.

1. “After two years you oughta be used to it,” Mae said, (line 37)
2. “I shouldn’t go outa the house.” (lin e 53)
3. “Every guy comes in here late always has an excuse.” (line 104)
4. “And the niggers is the w orse.” (lin e 106)
5. “You got the right to cuss me four ways to Sunday but I ain’t
letting nobody call me a nigger.” (lines 109-111)
6. “Aw, forget it,” she said. “I didn’t mean nothing by it.” (lin e 116)

Can you find at least three more examples of colloquial language in the
story?

IMAGERY
The restaurant scene (lines 193-214) in “Like a W inding Sheet” is
packed w ith distinctive images, or verbal pictures, that engage the
senses (taste, touch, sight, hearing, and sm ell), sometimes more
than one at the same time. For example:

He watched them walk to the porcelain-topped tables carrying

steaming cups o f coffee ,.. (lines 200-201)

In this one sentence, Petry conveys the image of the man taking
in the cool shining table tops w hile feeling the heat from the
steaming cups that people were carrying, as if he were already
carrying one himself, and then, in his imagination, gratefully
tasting the hot liquid.

Reread lines 193-214 carefully: Then analyze how the following

sentences appeal to the senses.

1. The lights in the restaurant were brilliant, enticing, (line 193)

2. Steam issued from its top and a gas flame flickered under it— a
lively, dancing, blue flame, (lines 197-198)
3. And as he stood there the smell of the coffee, the sound of the
laughter and of the voices, helped dull the sharp ache in his
legs, (lines 205-207)
4. Each time a man stepped out of the line w ith one of the thick
white cups, the fragrant steam got in his nostrils, (lines 210-211)
5. There was a froth of bubbles at the top of each cup and he
thought about how he would let the bubbles break against his
lips before he actually took a big deep swallow, (lines 212-214)
 Like a Winding Sheet u 241

C Judging for Yourself_____________________________

Express yourself as personally as you like in your answers to the
following questions.

1. W hy do you think Mr. Johnson hit his w ife instead of one of

the other two women?
2. Do you blame Mr. Johnson for finally boiling over? Should he
have exercised more self-control? W hat other options w'ere
open to him to release his anger?
3. W hat kinds of racial insults do you imagine Mr. Johnson
encountered daily?
4. Do you suppose that Mr. Johnson is likely to be violent again?
5. In your view , can Mae ever forgive her husband?

D Making Connections_____________________________
1. Is there a tendency in your country to solve disputes by
violence?
2. Are many wom en beaten by their husbands, fathers, or
boyfriends in your country? How does the society at large view
such acts? Are there shelters women can go to in order to
escape such violence?
3. W hat are factory conditions like where you live? Is there an
attempt to humanize life for the workers?
4. W hich groups of people are discrim inated against in your
society? W hat is the discrim ination based on— race, gender,
caste, religion, other categories?
5. Is Friday the thirteenth considered an unlucky date in your
culture? W hat other numbers have a positive or negative
significance?

E Debate
Debate this proposition:
Violence is never justified.
 Like a Winding Sheet ■ 245

PART Writing Activities

1. W rite a two-page essay discussing domestic violence in your

country. Consider what forms the violence takes; for example,
violence can include verbal insults as w ell as physical blows.
Explain who the chief victim s are and who usually inflicts the
violence. Analyze the reasons for this behavior. In your
conclusion, say whether the victim s are treated sym pathetically
by society.
2. Im agine that you are extrem ely hungry' and for some reason
you cannot satisfy your craving to eat. W rite two to three
paragraphs in w hich you either see or imagine the food you
desperately want. Use the story’s restaurant scene, w ith its
intensely evocative imagery, as a model to convey your
situation, as w ell as your feelings at the time. Make clear in
your w riting w hy you are unable to eat imm ediately.
3- W rite a dialogue between Mae and her husband five hours after
the beating takes place. Have them speak frankly to each other
about what happened and the reasons for it. According to the
w ay the dialogue is constructed, convey w'hether their
relationship can be saved or not.
4. Novels such as The Color Pu rple by Alice W alker and The Joy
Luck Club by Am y Tan deal with, among other themes, the
anguish of domestic violence. W rite an essay of one or tw'o
pages on a book you have read or a m ovie you have seen in
which a woman or child is subject to violence from a husband
or father. Describe the relationship and analyze the reasons for
this situation. Does the victim try to do anything about this
abuse? Say what happens.