The portrayal of the rural street painting and the emotional state of the character Lia through Thach Lam's pen in the short story Two Children

The portrayal of the rural street painting and the emotional state of the character Lia through Thach Lam's pen in the short story Two Children
 

I. Outline The portrayal of the rural street painting and the emotional state of the character Lia in Two Children
 

1. Introduction

- Brief overview of the author Thach Lam.

- Introduction to Two Children with the depiction of the rural street painting and the portrayal of Lia's inner emotions.
 

2. Body

a. The rural street painting at dusk:

* Natural scenery:
- Sounds: The buzzing of mosquitoes, the croaking of frogs, and the distant drum beats evoke a slow, melancholic atmosphere, adding to the quiet and dullness of the twilight, the dullness.
- Colors: The vivid red hues, the pink glow bringing forth subdued emotions, signaling the decline of a day, the last light flickering before darkness sets in, before the black of night officially envelops the landscape.

* Activities in the deserted market scene:
- Sounds of 'noise also disappeared,' accompanied by images of 'only rubbish, grapefruit peel, tangerine peel, and sugar cane leaves left on the ground,' along with the scene of some children rummaging, picking up the remaining debris after the market.
=> Conveys a sense of desolate sadness, a feeling of decay, destitution, and poverty.
- The smell of 'dampness rising...' evokes poverty, dampness, and melancholy.
- The wretched lives: poor children at the market's edge, mother and child Tí, grandmother Thi slightly crazy, addicted to alcohol, with haunting laughter, sisters Liên, An, the figure of a hardworking, suffering mother, misery.
=> The commonality among all the people in that rural area is poverty, with a monotonous, bleak, impoverished, dark, and stagnant life. 

* Lia's soul painting:
- Lia's soul is delicate and sensitive:
+ Lia's perception of 'a damp smell rising, the daytime heat mixed with the familiar scent of dust, making Lia think it's the scent of the land, of this homeland.' => Feels familiar, close, bonded, and deeply loved.
+ Witnessing the nightfall 'her eyes filled with darkness and the sadness of the evening permeating the innocent soul of Lia.'
=> Sensing deeply the sadness of the fading scenery seeping into Lia's tender soul, making her ponder like an adult.
- Lia's kind heart, love for the destitute in the rural market:
+ For mother and child Tí, it's care, inquiry, sympathetic looks, compassion, pity for their difficult life as described by Lia.
+ For the children at the market's edge, it's a feeling of helplessness because Lia herself is poor and can't do anything for those poor children.
+ For grandmother Thi, with her haunting laughter, Lia feels a bit scared but still shows her care, not through words but through actions.

b. The rural street painting at night:

* Natural scenery:
- Constructed with two contrasting light and dark colors, a characteristic technique of romantic literature, evoking a scene that leaves an impression in the reader's heart.
- 'The streets and alleys are filled with darkness,' 'completely dark, the road to the river, the road home from the market, the alleys into the village are even darker.'
=> Darkness is present everywhere, enveloping everything, becoming denser over time.
- Light: 'cracks of light' coming out from houses, 'glow' flickering on Tí's lamp, then the 'small lights' of the dimming lamps, the faint light of Uncle Siêu's kitchen fire. Stars, fireflies.
=> Weak, faint, fragile, not enough to illuminate.
=> Those flickering lights only accentuate the endless darkness, the deep-seated stagnation of this rural town, symbolizing the small, fragile, and fluctuating lives in the rural town, while darkness symbolizes the stagnant, encircling, and immense darkness of the old society, devouring the poor and weak lives.  

* Activities in the scene:
- Mr. Xẩm and his wife with 'the sound of the bầu instrument resounding in silence,' their child crawling outside playing with dirt, impoverished, destitute.
- Tí sits holding a dry banana branch swatting flies, depicting an empty, quiet, and mindless scene of a deserted and brainless store.

* Lia's Mood:
- Lia's delicate sensitivity to the surrounding life scenes, it's an intriguing imagination when looking up at the starry sky with twinkling stars and firefly lights, thinking of a distant fairy tale world.

- Observing very carefully, keenly detecting the changes of life in the details of various light sources with different shapes, sizes, and shades.
- Dreaming of a better life, shown in the girl's constant orientation towards light sources, reminiscing about the lights in Hanoi.

c. The rural street painting when the train arrives and departs:

* When the train arrives:
- The train appears with sounds like 'the sound of rushing, strong scraping against the tracks,' 'the noisy whispers of passengers,' 'the whistling sound and the train roaring forward,' all are truly lively and bustling sounds, completely different from the dull, slow sounds in the rural town.
- The vigorous movement 'the train roaring forward,' 'the convoy zooming past' also brings a different vibe compared to the sporadic, sluggish, gentle, and weary movements of the rural town.

* When the train departs:
- That train passing by left the girl with a lot of emotions, Lia thinks about Hanoi, because that train from the capital back to it brought a bit of a different world through, a world that Lia always dreams of.
- Today's train seems dimmer than yesterday => Life is increasingly stagnant and difficult
- Lia begins to return to reality 'only late at night, the sound of night guards and barking dogs,' continuing a silent scene, the night is thick. And the people are weak, slowly packing up to go home, sad, tired => Silent, desolate, and more stagnant, darker.

3. Conclusion

Express general feelings.

II. Sample Writing The rural street painting and the mood of the character Lia in Two Children
 

1. Rural Street Painting and Lia's Mood in Two Children, Sample 1 (Standard):

Thạch Lam (1910-1942), a member of the Self-Reliance Literary Group, was a person with a generous, calm, and sensitive personality, so his works also have a clear, simple, profound, and deep appearance. He is a talented short story writer, with content often exploring the beauty of everyday life in rural areas on the outskirts of urban areas, which is the familiar living space of the author in his difficult childhood in Cam Giang district, Hai Duong province. Those days have become indelible imprints, becoming an artistic space that frequently appears in many works of Thạch Lam. In terms of art, he often writes stories that have no plot, but the attractiveness of his works comes from the complex inner world of people, as the author tries to find the delicate, vague, and subtle beauty of the human soul. That unique artistic style has made Thạch Lam's works resemble deeply melancholic poems, even though they are stories, they carry a very dense poetic quality in every word. Two Children in the collection Sunlight in the Garden (1938) is one of the best works fully representing Thạch Lam's unique approach to short story writing. The main content of the work is the scene of the rural street and the soul painting of the character Lia with special, deep emotions standing out against the backdrop of the desolate, dark rural street at dusk and when night falls.

Entering the work, the first thing that appears before the reader's eyes is the rural street painting at dusk, the natural scenery starting with the melancholy mood of the girl Lia in the moment of dusk, from which the natural scenery begins to appear with a sad, desolate appearance. It is not clear whether the scene permeates the soul of the person or the soul of the person influences the scene as Nguyen Du wrote, 'The sad scene never has joy', only knowing that the sadness of both the person and the scene is very balanced and harmonious with each other, creating a very melancholic, poetic color in the story. In the work, Thạch Lam perceived the natural scenery through both sight and hearing, with each sentence opening up a new scene, the previous sentence calling the next. The scene of dusk was opened with sounds from small to large, the previous sentence calling the next. The scene of dusk was opened with sounds from small to large, that is, 'the mosquitoes began to buzz' in the slightly dark shop, further away, 'the frogs croaked following the gentle breeze blowing into the fields,' and finally enveloping the entire space, officially signaling the moment of dusk was 'the sound of the autumn drum in the small district booth, each beat resonating to call the evening'. All those sounds, though noisy, disturbing the space there, yet when combined in the work they did not bring a feeling of joy and excitement, but instead they evoked a very quiet, deserted space, conveying the melancholy feeling of dusk. This somewhat makes us think of the literary technique of dynamic-static in Eastern poetry, taking the sharp dynamics to describe the static covering everything. These perceptions of sight, through which Thạch Lam first perceived the scene of dusk through very beautiful, very romantic images and colors. It is the scene of 'the western sky glowing like a burning fire and the clouds glowing pink like a coal about to burn out'. The two bright red and pink colors are all bright, sharp colors usually representing joy, brightness, but in this case they bring extremely gloomy emotions because those colors in the sunset scene are a sign of the decline of a day, the last light before the sky completely darkens, before the black color of darkness officially envelops the scenery. The visual perceptions do not only stop at the images and colors but they also appear very artistically, carrying the style of painting through the author's meticulous observation. The scene 'A row of village bamboo in front of me turned black and stood out clearly against the sky,' brings a gloomy feeling, evoking very clear perceptions about the transitional moment between day and night, the sky is slightly bright because of the sunset, while the bamboo grove is darkly imprinted on the sky, like a unique painting with dark colors, evoking extremely gloomy, melancholic feelings. Besides the perceptions of hearing and sight, the scene of dusk in the countryside is also evoked very delicately by the slow, richly melodic rhythm of the sentences, rich in imagery, blending all those elements to create a gentle, peaceful scene typical of Vietnamese countryside. In addition, Thạch Lam's description is not inclined towards a sophisticated, stylistic manner but bears the hallmark of simplicity, authenticity, depicting the spirit and soul of the natural scenery in the rural street.

The backdrop of that twilight rural scene is the portrayal of human activities in the town, including the scene of a deserted market. While the natural scene above is perceived through the senses of hearing and sight, in the deserted market scene, the author also perceives through the sense of smell to produce very profound and unique feelings. The deserted market scene is recreated with only one sound, 'the noise is also gone,' returning the town to its quiet and melancholic appearance. Along with that is the image of 'only rubbish, pomelo peels, orange peels, and sugarcane leaves left on the ground' along with the scene of some children digging through, picking up the remaining rubbish after the market, looking very pitiful, pathetic, arousing a deep sense of pity in people's hearts. Thus, the twilight rural scene not only brings a melancholic and desolate appearance, but it also brings a sense of desolation, decay, and poverty, leaving an obsession with the darkness of the Vietnamese countryside at that time. And perhaps the highlight of the deserted market scene is in Thạch Lam's olfactory perceptions, 'a damp, warm smell rises, the smell of the daytime and the familiar dust, making sister Liên think it's the smell of this land, of this homeland.' That is clearly not a pleasant smell, however, in Liên's sensitive perception, in the love and attachment for the town, for the piece of land that she has been attached to for a while, Liên feels it is familiar, close, attached, and extremely loving. In addition, another detail also shows the sensitive nature of this character is her feeling when witnessing the night gradually falling before her eyes, 'her eyes filled with darkness and the sadness of the village evening soaked into her innocent soul.' For a 9-year-old child, perhaps sadness is still very vague, however, with Liên, she feels it deeply, the sadness of the twilight scene gradually seeping into her tender soul, making her contemplate like an adult. As mentioned, it is not known whether the sadness of the scene makes people feel sad along with it, or it is because Liên's soul has been imbued with sorrows, so the twilight scene becomes both gloomy and romantic. Besides the sensitivity in perceiving the twilight scene, Liên's sensitivity is also shown through her compassionate, loving heart towards the destitute people in the town. With mother and child Tí, it is care, inquiries, sympathetic glances, compassion, pity for their hard lives through the way Liên describes their circumstances. Then with the poor children around the market, it is a feeling of helplessness because Liên herself is poor, she cannot help those poor children. Or with the crazy old lady Thi, with her haunting laughter, Liên is a bit scared but still shows care for her, it doesn't come from words but from actions. The way she pours a glass of wine for the old lady like a habit, showing kindness, showing Liên's heart for an old, pitiful person, especially the scene where she watches Thi's shadow fade into the dark night, showing pity, compassion for a destitute, miserable person.

Standing out in the twilight rural scene with the deserted market and the destitute people is the portrayal of the soul of the character Liên, the main character of the work. Liên is a girl with a delicate and sensitive soul, which is reflected through the changes in her soul when witnessing the changes of nature in the twilight moment. First is Liên's perception of 'a damp, warm smell rises, the smell of the daytime and the familiar dust, making sister Liên think it's the smell of this land, of this homeland.' Before such a musty, uncomfortable smell, but in Liên's perception, in the love and attachment for the town, for the piece of land that she has been attached to for a while, Liên feels it is familiar, close, attached, and extremely loving. In addition, another detail also shows the sensitive nature of this character is her feeling when witnessing the night gradually falling before her eyes, 'her eyes filled with darkness and the sadness of the village evening soaked into her innocent soul.' For a 9-year-old child, perhaps sadness is still very vague, however, with Liên, she feels it deeply, the sadness of the twilight scene gradually seeping into her tender soul, making her contemplate like an adult. As mentioned, it is not known whether the sadness of the scene makes people feel sad along with it, or it is because Liên's soul has been imbued with sorrows, so the twilight scene becomes both gloomy and romantic. Besides the sensitivity in perceiving the twilight scene, Liên's sensitivity is also shown through her compassionate, loving heart towards the destitute people in the town. With mother and child Tí, it is care, inquiries, sympathetic glances, compassion, pity for their hard lives through the way Liên describes their circumstances. Then with the poor children around the market, it is a feeling of helplessness because Liên herself is poor, she cannot help those poor children. Or with the crazy old lady Thi, with her haunting laughter, Liên is a bit scared but still shows care for her, it doesn't come from words but from actions. The way she pours a glass of wine for the old lady like a habit, showing kindness, showing Liên's heart for an old, pitiful person, especially the scene where she watches Thi's shadow fade into the dark night, showing pity, compassion for a destitute, miserable person.

Thạch Lam always manages to reveal the subtlety within one's soul through his delicate prose. The gentleness has crafted a unique essence in Thạch Lam's literature. 'Two Children' revolves around the lives of An and Liên in a poor rural town, with their mundane tasks repeated day after day. Through these characters, the author aims to convey numerous messages about life's hardships.

The backdrop for the main story is the impoverished rural town, ever-present in every written page. Perhaps it is this scenery that inspires Thạch Lam to express his emotions. And could this be the very Cẩm Giàng rural town - where he was born and raised?

The imagery of the impoverished rural town emerges in the opening lines 'The autumn drumbeats resound over the small town market, each beat echoing far to call in the evening...'. A drumbeat resonates in an almost fading evening, with both scenery and people seemingly drifting into a state of indifference. Why does the author choose an autumn evening to depict the rural town? Perhaps because autumn always evokes sadness, nostalgia, and a myriad of emotions. The image of two children appears with their daily chores of 'lighting lamps' and 'playing officials' while watching the train from Hanoi pass by, flickering brightly then fading into disappointment.

The image of the rural town in the late afternoon is depicted through detailed descriptions 'The market in the middle of the street has long been deserted. People have returned home and the noise has disappeared. Only rubbish remains on the ground, grapefruit peels, orange peels, banana leaves, and sugar cane residue. A damp smell rises, the daytime heat mingling with the familiar smell of sand and dust, so familiar that Liên thinks of it as the scent of this land, of this homeland. Some late-returning vendors are still arranging their goods, the carrying poles already in place, they stand chatting with each other briefly'. This is the scene of the poor neighborhood when the day is already withering, a withering, fading, and a sense of desolation is evident before the reader. Perhaps this was the reality of that time in the northern part of our country. Everything seems bleak, without highlights, without attraction, and seemingly lifeless. Everything is just ordinary, intimate but faintly impoverished.

The gentle, smooth sentences depict a desolate, quiet space in the poor town. Against that gloomy backdrop, the figures of impoverished children emerge. 'Several poor children by the market huddle on the ground, searching for scraps. They scavenge for bits of metal, bits of string, or anything of use. Liên is moved, but she herself has no money to give them.' A more poignant picture emerges as the impoverished people appear, seemingly doubling the poverty and hardship of this land. And the reader witnesses the soulful beauty of Liên, her kindness and nobility.

In the chaotic canvas of the poor countryside, there are many other fates, all contributing to the disorder of the impoverished town in the fading afternoon. It's the image of Mrs. Tí and her daughter sorting through their wares, yet 'not earning much.' Or it's the image of Liên and her sister since they moved to this poor town, the two of them selling goods to help their mother at a small stall rented from someone else, a makeshift table covered with newspaper.

The silent, attentive individuals silently observe the poverty and hunger unfolding before them, yet they cannot intervene.

Intertwined with the physically impoverished individuals is the image of Granny Thị, who is often seen buying alcohol at Liên's family shop. The sight of Granny Thị 'tilting her head back, gulping down a drink, placing three coins into Liên's hand, and stumbling away' is heart-wrenching, a testament to a terrifying, aimless life.

In this rural town, everyone seems to await eagerly for a train from Hanoi to bring with it more hustle and bustle. Perhaps the train holds significant meaning for the people in this land. Because 'the train seems to bring a bit of another world along.' It could be the world of prosperity from the past for Liên and her sister, a life of abundance and peace.

The train journey is perhaps the dream, the longing to reach towards the light for the people in this poor rural town.

'Two Children' is a gentle story, devoid of intense situations, yet it leaves the reader haunted by the lives and the impoverished land during the years when our country was still immersed in warfare.

Above is the section The Portrait of the Rural Town and Liên's Mood through Thạch Lam's Pen in the Short Story Two Children the following article, you should prepare to answer the textbook questions, The Realistic and Romantic Elements in the Short Story Two Children along with the section Analysis of Liên's Emotions as She Waits Night after Night to Watch the Train Pass through the Rural Town in the Short Story Two Children to enhance your writing skills.

Sample essay: The Portrait of the Rural Town and Liên's Mood in the Short Story Two Children

3. The Portrait of the Rural Town and Liên's Mood in the Short Story Two Children, sample number 3:

Two Children is one of many outstanding short stories representing Thạch Lam's style. The story depicts two sisters (Liên and An), two children entrusted by their mother to watch over a grocery stall in the rural town. As night falls, shadows of people pass by like dim lights: Mrs. Tý, Uncle Phở Siêu, Granny Thi, Uncle Xẩm's family. They, along with the dark night of the rural town, sow pity in the hearts of children. Despite being sleepy, the two sisters 'struggle to stay awake to wait for the night train to pass by. The train rushes past like a shooting star for a moment then all fades into the vast darkness...

The portrait of the rural town in Two Children (and also Mother Lê's House and Early Season Chills) is tied to Thạch Lam's childhood memories. According to the memoirs of the Nguyễn Trường family, Mrs. Nguyễn Thị Thế, Thạch Lam's older sister, recounts: 'I didn't expect Sáu (Thạch Lam) to have such a strong memory, like the story he tells about the two sisters staying up waiting for the night train before sleeping. I was nine years old at that time, and he was eight, and our mother had entrusted the grocery stall to us.' Thạch Lam's entire childhood was connected to Cẩm Giàng rural town, alongside the Hanoi-Haiphong railway where his father died in Sầm Nưa - Laos, and his mother carried them back to their maternal hometown). The desolate, melancholic space of the rural town haunted him, often appearing in the writings of Nhất Linh, Hoàng Đạo, and especially Thạch Lam. Time, like a magical filter, retained many indelible marks in Thạch Lam's sensitive and empathetic soul. By creating the character Liên, Thạch Lam essentially awakened in An's introspective soul to return to the rural town, where the 'dark, patient darkness of rural life under the decaying thatched roofs or deep nights in the town' (Thế Lữ) existed.

As night falls, the echoing sound of frogs croaking in the fields with the gentle breeze carries in, and 'the mosquitoes begin to buzz,' but perhaps the most memorable is still the 'sound of the autumn drum echoing in the small district booth, every beat echoing to call the evening.' Writer Nguyễn Tuân found it most challenging to create the atmosphere of a story because once the atmosphere is created, the story flows naturally. With the autumn drum resounding steadily, Thạch Lam naturally created the atmosphere of the story, and perhaps that childhood drum sound has stimulated, awakened in Thạch Lam all the nostalgia, the vagueness, the indistinct about a town of the past. The sound of the autumn drum is a familiar sound that appears daily, becoming a soul of the evening in the small district, giving the town a serene yet profoundly sad appearance. Indeed, 'a tranquil evening like a lullaby.' The sound of the autumn drum drew the entire evening into the serene and somber twilight, permeating into the soul. This is by no means the sound of a tax collector's drum that makes the space suffocatingly fearful in Ngô Tất Tố's 'The Light Goes Out,' nor is it the sound of a dam guard's drum urging at the beginning of the century by Phạm Duy Tốn in the midst of life and death. It's sad yet peaceful, beautiful. The gentle, melancholic beauty of the countryside evening has created the poetic quality in Thạch Lam's story. Thạch Lam subtly brings out the romantic natural scenery.

In the portrait of the rural town, the night appears as a character carrying the artistic intention of the writer rather than simply a physical space transitioning from day to night. Perhaps Thạch Lam always looked at life from its shadows, so in his stories, shadows are often seen. Darkness has formed a unique atmosphere. In the story, the author returns to the image of the night, darkness, no less than 30 times. The story begins with the decline of the day and the invasion of darkness when 'the bamboo forest in front turns black and stands out clearly against the sky.' When 'the houses light up,' it is also when darkness is most keenly felt, by the small stones along with 'one side bright, one side dark.' Darkness does not come suddenly but silently, stealthily enveloping everything. Granny Thi, after tilting her head back to gulp down a big drink, 'blends into the darkness,' and darkness gradually swallows the half-crazy, half-foolish laughter of the old woman. After Granny Thi's laughter, the night truly becomes a night 'a summer night as soft as velvet' with people 'slowly walking in the night.' The flickering yellow flame like a wandering ghost of Uncle Phở's noodle cart 'walks in the dark night,' emphasizing the darkness of the rural town night. The scene of the night in the rural town described by Thạch Lam here is not a night due to a power outage or without a moon but a night that 'Liên is so used to.' So used to the point that in the darkness of the night, Liên looks through it to see 'the path leading to the river, the path through the market back home' even though 'it gets darker and darker.' Even the drum beating guard is made dry and 'doesn't echo far' but 'sinks directly into the darkness.' The night train passes, and the whole town lights up briefly then is surrounded by darkness again. At the end of the work, the small oil lamp in the dilapidated stall of Liên is turned even smaller, and after 'looking around in the dark night,' Liên sinks into sleep 'silent and full of darkness.

It can be said that the imagery of darkness not only creates a unique atmosphere for the story but also creates a powerful sense of anticipation, agitation, nervousness, hope, and then prolonged suspense in the reader. Darkness becomes a dominating force in the rural town, infiltrating into everything. It is like a giant monster swallowing both the scenery and the people of the rural town. Darkness is not only the background of the rural town portrait but also the social space, the artistic space of the work. Darkness is a symbol of poor, dark, and trapped life of the people in the rural town. Darkness weighs heavily on their fate, making them even smaller, already pitiful, and gloomy even more desolate and pitiful.

In contrast to darkness is light. In fact, the writer has successfully used a contrasting artistic technique. The existence of light spots would be meaningless without darkness; conversely, depicting darkness also proves the existence of light spots, which can be swallowed by darkness at any time. But as a law of survival, light, though flickering, still exists. It seems throughout the story is a quiet struggle between darkness and light.

Natural light isn't just about the 'blazing red' sun but also the 'sparkling light' of the sky from the night stars. Beneath the ground, there's also the light of 'fireflies flying around.'

Artificial light comprises Sister Tí's lamp; the small twisted oil lamp of the Liên sisters, with 'each beam of light passing through the cracked chimney'; Uncle Phở Siêu's cooking fire only illuminating a sandy patch: the light from the 'white iron basin' that Uncle Xẩm's family places in front to catch the surrounding light; the light of falling candle wax onto the railroad track; the light of 'two or three people holding swaying lanterns casting long shadows.' Except for the light brought by the train and the light appearing in Liên's thoughts about Hanoi, everything else is in a state of decay, creeping, falling, fading away.

The light from Sister Tí's lamp and Uncle Siêu's cooking fire only barely illuminates a sandy area,' and it seems that the later it gets at night, the weaker the light becomes. The Liên sisters' lamp is twisted to its maximum, just enough for 'each beam of light to pass through the cracked chimney.' The swaying lanterns can be extinguished at any moment. The stars in the sky and the fireflies on the ground only 'twinkle' intermittently. The most pitiful yet meaningful detail is Uncle Xẩm's white iron basin. Every family has a bit of light, albeit faint; Uncle Xẩm's family, with its 'distinctive' work, doesn't use a lamp yet still has a bit of light - that's the sharing from the people around, though very scarce. The white iron basin reflects the light gathered from everyone around.

The light of the rural town is feeble and within a very narrow range. It's like throwing stones into 'the large pond' of darkness. Light doesn't brighten the rural town but even accentuates one's perception of darkness. Perhaps light is merely a prolonged resistance, a struggle with darkness to exist. Like the residents of the rural town, the light of the rural town is a symbol of precarious, worn-out life, akin to those small lamps, which can flicker out at any time. It seems that Thạch Lam, in this way, silently illustrates a Western proverb: 'Life is like a candle.' Human life, in general, is exceedingly fragile. The lives of the residents of this rural town are even more fragile, a thousand times over. They are just faint lights forgotten amidst the dark wilderness of life. What's even more noteworthy is that Thạch Lam has created a fierce contrast between darkness and light, especially Sister Tí's flickering oil lamp.

The depiction of rural life begins with a scene of the market in ruins. Thạch Lam portrays the scene of the rural market with such realistic strokes that it lays bare the true poverty and misery of the place. It's filled with 'rubbish, pomelo peels, banana peels, and sugarcane leaves' - in a poor market, even the trash is scarce. Yet, there are still 'a few poor children scavenging around, picking up pieces of bamboo, pieces of bamboo.' This detail often appears in Thạch Lam's stories as a childhood obsession etched into the soul, evolving into a deeply compassionate, nostalgic sentiment.

As darkness falls, those who make a living during the day are engulfed by the shadows, while those who make a living at night around the railway station emerge from the darkness. With a faint glimmer of light, these people are besieged by darkness. They are lives on the edge, amidst worn-out objects in a desolate, faded scene.

Transitioning between dusk and nightfall is the scene of a few children scavenging around, moving swiftly, exploring. And to add to the precariousness of these staggering figures, the author meticulously describes the 'garbage' of a poor market and the musty smell wafting up with a few latecomers exchanging a few scattered stories.

Mother and daughter Tí are perhaps the epitome of the precarious, precarious life in this rural town. The mother-daughter stall is the focal point in the canvas of activities in the rural town as night falls. By day, they hunt for crabs and catch shrimp; every night, they set up the bamboo stand to sell water. They know they won't sell anything, but still, they go, hoping to earn a few pennies. This isn't living; it's merely enduring, holding out in vain. It's no coincidence that the author returns to Sister Tí's lamp seven times. The flickering lamp struggles against the darkness just like her life struggles against poverty, desolation, and dullness. This image is not only haunting for Liên but also for the author and the reader alike. Thạch Lam pours countless compassion into it, so that when one reads his pages, the image of the lamp and Sister Tí's fate seeps into their dreams.

Mr. Phở Siêu seems somewhat better off because in this impoverished land, phở is a luxury. The rhythmic sounds of the carrying pole, along with the fragrant aroma and the flickering golden flames, bring a bit of vitality to the rural town, only to be followed by a sigh for the lack of customers.

Bác Xẩm's family sits there, existing without a sense of time, for to him, day and night hold little meaning. The whole family lives, plays, and 'does business' on a tattered mat with a tin basin used by the father. Bác Xẩm contributes with a few strums of his humble instrument in silence, while his son accompanies by crawling on the ground to pick up dirt to play with.

One might think that this is already tragic and terrifying, but there is one person even more terrifying, and that is Madam Thi. She appears like a shadow but remains haunting with her half-crazed, half-foolish laughter and the image of a woman holding a large jug of alcohol, downing it in one gulp, leaving one to feel bitter for the purple life, withered, faltering. What? What drives Madam Thi to madness? Thạch Lam doesn't debate but quietly poses that question into the hidden corners of people's minds. If life continues on this path, perhaps everyone will end up half-mad and half-foolish. It's truly tragic when a woman drinks to forget in the bitterness of alcohol, even more tragic when that woman can't afford a whole bottle of liquor to get drunk enough to forget. Downing a large jug of alcohol in one gulp is a very Thạch Lam detail - both subtle and profound, seeming trivial yet poignant.

The booth of the Liên sisters appears peaceful amidst the rural town. Though considered relatively wealthy, it's still quite dull and desolate. A small, crooked booth, with half a piece of paper stuck on a board, a few packets of tobacco, a bamboo stand on the verge of collapse... And two children, both innocent and worn out, equally pitiful. If one delves deeper into the circumstances and current situation of the two children, one will see a complete decline, a terrifying deterioration: the father lost his job... moved back from Hanoi... rented a stall to sell...

The dull, monotonous stories seem to repeat themselves every day in a melancholic, slow manner. The people emerge then fade away like silent, unobtrusive shadows.

Surrounding them are decrepit objects: the shabby shop, the broken stand, the torn mat, the worn-out musical instrument, the cracked bowl... These people, objects, and scenes create the gloomy, desolate, and mournful face of the rural town. Life unfolds in a direction of gradual decay with people without roots, without destinies, so much so that even the author doesn't describe their features, their expressions... Yet, perhaps because of this, their fates appear even smaller, more pitiful. Everyone bears with humility, silently accepting their own fate as if it were predetermined, repeating into familiar habits. It's terrifying when these fleeting images unfold before the two innocent children like a cycle of life trapped in the hopeless streets of the town. If life doesn't change, these images will be what awaits the children ahead. The present of the town's residents will be the future of generations like Liên, An, Chị Tí... Liên is afraid to look at Madam Thi partly because she's mad, but partly because Liên fears for her own future. Will Liên eventually become Chị Tí? Mr. Phở Siêu? Madam Thi?... By depicting the relationship between the two children and this town, Thạch Lam has drawn a parallel between the saplings and a world already withered, barren. These saplings have sprouted on dry, barren land. What will become of them? Save them, innocent children! That's what Thạch

Lam quietly embeds into his writings when describing the picture of the rural town. And perhaps that's why the stories evoke endless pity.

It's not that the people of the rural town lack dreams, hopes. Without hope, humanity would have been destroyed long ago. But hope for what? 'So much that people in the darkness expect something bright for their daily impoverished lives.' The expectation is also pitiful - 'Something bright' - so fragile, so vague. Poverty, hardship, misery have eroded even dreams and hopes, making the people here unable to lift their heads. Even the ability to deceive oneself to cling to life seems to elude them. It can be said that Thạch Lam's loving heart has inclined toward these small lives, listening, sharing, comforting. In this way, the writer cherishes every ray of light with heartfelt words full of depth. The rural town and its people have been enveloped by a simple yet warm heart of a writer who has always wished for a life 'more just and loving.'

On the backdrop of the rural town painting emerges the image of two children, especially Liên. The town is always within Liên's sight, the innocent yet profoundly sensitive girl. Thạch Lam has borrowed Liên's perspective, the emotional development of Liên to express his own perceptions in memories as well as the present regarding the world around, thereby articulating the thoughts of the work gently, discreetly yet profoundly, deeply.

It begins with Liên's sadness before a late afternoon. Liên 'sits quietly' to let all the evening's solemn and melancholic atmosphere seep deeply into her soul, then 'her sister's eyes fill up with darkness. Liên doesn't know why, but she feels a deep sense of sadness.' The passage resembles a romantic poem with a melancholic, sweet, and poignant tone. In Liên's soul, there's a bit of childhood innocence and a bit of adult maturity combined with a romantic ego that's hard to define. Liên embodies the sensitive, delicate soul of Thạch Lam.

Liên is not only saddened by the scene of late afternoon, but also by the decrepit lives of people and life itself, like a gentle yet profound sigh. Watching poor children scavenging through trash, 'Liên feels pity, but she also doesn't have money to give them.' A compassion both bitter and heartbreaking rises in Liên's soul, much like the boy Sơn once did in Cold Wind at the Beginning of the Season, silently watching poor, shivering children.

'Darkness fills up' in Liên's eyes and also in that window of her soul, where specks of light along with people appear in affection. That affection is expressed through caring greetings to Chị Tí, through the silent gesture of 'pouring wine' for Madam Thi, then although a bit trembling, still 'standing still, watching Madam disappear into the darkness.' That affection not only gathers around Chị Tí's lamp, the iron basin of the xẩm artist's family, the small fire of Mr. Phở Siêu's cart but seems to envelop the entire scene of the rural town, even the small stones 'one side bright, one side dark' as night falls, as Liên's mood becomes even more melancholic, restless, and pitiful.

There are times when Liên silently gazes at the 'vast and deep universe'. Its 'secrets' and unfamiliarity have 'tired Liên's mind' and Liên 'bends down to look at the ground, at the familiar glow around the light on Chị Tí's broken stand'. Thus, like Thạch Lam, Liên's soul, no matter how romantic it is, cannot escape, cannot 'forget' but is always associated with life, with people.

Liên's sensitivity to life is also evident in the details: from Mr. Phở Siêu's cart, Liên relives childhood memories when the family was still in Hanoi. Although 'the memories are not clear, just a 'bright, sparkling area,' it is the deep source for Liên's anxious mood waiting for the train at the end of the story. Every night Liên waits, and every night is as eager as the first time only to sink into a life full of darkness afterward. Liên's waiting mood for MU is also a weary, pitiful hope. If observant, one will notice a very light sigh of the sisters through the detail: 'The train is not crowded today, right, sister?' (An's question). 'Liên doesn't answer, tonight's train seems less crowded and seems dimmer.' The joy is not complete, then a vague worry appears. Then from tomorrow night... the night after... it's very likely that there won't be that train anymore. What will life be like when people no longer have faith and hope?

The end of the work is the fading echo 'gradually disappearing into the darkness, even listening closely doesn't hear it anymore' only the late night, the sound of the drum guarding and the sound of dogs barking. Chị Tí prepares her belongings, Mr. Phở Siêu enters the village, 'Mr. Xâm's husband and wife fall asleep on the ragged mat long ago'. And Liên, Liên 'rests her head on her hand, closing her eyes', 'Liên feels herself living amidst so much remoteness', 'immerses in a quiet sleep, as quiet as the night in the town, lonely and full of darkness'. Indeed, 'a summer night as smooth as velvet' hides the suppressed sighs of countless lives. Liên's sleep is a peaceful sleep that is actually tumultuous and laden with something heavy, sad, and pitiful, making the reader linger on the final lines, flipping through the pages again and again with so much restlessness, tangled emotions, making one restless forever.

The author has borrowed the character's mood to create an obsession in the reader's mind many times, Thạch Lam seems to emphasize the innocence of the sisters: 'Somehow,' Liên 'thought,' Liên 'vaguely,' Liên 'doesn't understand,' Liên 'sees' herself living amidst so much remoteness'... Liên may not understand, may not know for sure, but it is precisely the word 'not' that 'traps' the reader, making them fall into the uncertainties. The reader is carried away by the character's mood, immersed in the character's vague sadness without knowing when. That is the magic of Thạch Lam's short story.

Liên resembles the people of the town in some ways and yet is very different from them. Similar because she is a part of the melancholic, shadowy painting: she also clears stalls, contributes a few fragmented words, and has a flickering light with a stall selling betel nut, soap, matches... And like the people here, the people in the gloomy shadows silently dream of 'hoping for something bright'...

But Liên is very different from the town's residents. She separates herself as a viewpoint of the 'self' that refuses to lose herself in the totality at risk of disappearing in the fading process. Liên is not a rural girl but not entirely a city girl either. Within Liên, there is simplicity, rusticity mixed with complexity, romanticism. She not only knows how to bend down to look at the bright spots on the ground, but she also knows how to let her soul follow the twinkling stars to find the Milky Way. She not only is accustomed to looking at the dark road from the village to the riverbank but also dreams of a world full of light even though that dream is very fragile and sometimes disappears. Liên is a child, older than An but still just a child with all the innocence of a child. Yet within Liên, there is also maturity, even the weariness of an adult. The intermingling of light and darkness has created sad melodies in a sad soul that invade the reader, haunt them, and always evoke sympathy.

Another difference of Liên from the town's residents is the longing for light. The monotonous poverty in the town may make Liên sigh but it cannot prevent her from having dreams, aspirations for change, for a brighter world. The author has listened, understood, and valued those small hopes of humanity. That is the gentle yet profound humanitarian value of the work.

Liên's compassion, Liên's mood, Liên's emotions are in fact the emotions, mood, and compassion of Thạch Lam. Thạch Lam has embodied himself in the character and through empathetic writing, he has immersed the reader into the character's world, the reader will imagine, envision what the author wants to convey.