AP® English Literature and Composition review sheet from Aim for Five (aimforfive.com/lit/units/9/9-6)
Unit 9 · Topic 9.6
9.6 The literary argument essay: a work as a whole
In the literary argument essay (Question 3), you choose a work of fiction, usually a novel or play you know well, and argue how it develops the idea in the prompt. You defend a clear thesis with specific evidence from across the book and explain how that evidence builds meaning in the work as a whole, which is what the top evidence-and-commentary score requires.
Key terms
- literary argument
- defensible thesis
- work as a whole
- line of reasoning
- commentary
- sophistication
How the question works
The prompt describes a literary idea, such as characters torn between duty and desire, or a setting that shapes a character's choices. It asks you to choose a work of fiction that fits, then analyze how that element contributes to an interpretation of the work as a whole. It gives a list of suggested works, but you may choose any appropriate work of fiction from your own reading. You write from memory, in about 40 minutes.
The rubric is the same 6-point structure as the other essays: thesis (1 point), evidence and commentary (up to 4) and sophistication (1). The difference is that your evidence comes from memory and from across the whole work, not from a printed passage.
Choose your work before exam day
Prepare two or three works you know deeply, ideally ones that cover different kinds of ideas. Classic choices include Hamlet, Pride and Prejudice, Jane Eyre, Frankenstein, Great Expectations, A Doll's House and The Great Gatsby, and many modern novels work just as well, like Toni Morrison's Beloved or Chinua Achebe's Things Fall Apart. Choose works with rich conflicts and characters, not just favorites.
For each work, know:
- Character names, spelled correctly, and the main events in order.
- Three or four key scenes from the beginning, middle and end.
- A few short quotations or very specific details you can recall exactly.
- Two or three big ideas the work explores.
- How the ending answers, or leaves open, the central conflict.
A thesis about the whole work
Your thesis has to do two things: answer the prompt's question about the specific element (the choice, the setting, the relationship) and say what that element shows about the work as a whole. A thesis that only describes the element is incomplete.
Weak: Jane Eyre faces a hard choice when she leaves Rochester. Strong: Jane's decision to leave Rochester shows that the novel values self-respect over love, because Brontë lets Jane accept love only once she can do so as an equal. The strong version names the element, makes an arguable claim and points to the whole novel.
Evidence without the book
You don't need exact quotations. Specific details work: "When Jane leaves Thornfield early one morning with almost no money" is evidence; "Jane makes a hard choice" is not. Explain each detail's connection to your claim, then to the work as a whole.
Avoid plot summary. Every sentence about what happens should be followed by why it matters to your argument. A good rule: tell only as much of the plot as your reader needs to follow your point.
Worked examples
Try each one yourself first, then open the solution.
- Example 1
Planning a literary argument essay
Practice prompt (written for this practice set): Many works of fiction feature a character who must choose between what they love and what they believe is right. Either from your own reading or from a list of suggested works, choose a work of fiction in which a character faces such a choice. Then, in a well-written essay, analyze how the character's choice contributes to an interpretation of the work as a whole. Plan an essay on Charlotte Brontë's Jane Eyre.
Show the solutionHide the solution
- Step 1: Identify the choice: after learning Rochester is already married, Jane refuses to stay with him as his mistress, though she loves him, and leaves Thornfield.
- Step 2: Find evidence from across the work: as a child she fights back against her cousin, is locked in the red-room and later confronts her cruel aunt; at Lowood she learns endurance; she refuses Rochester's offer, saying "I care for myself"; later she also refuses St. John Rivers's loveless marriage proposal; she returns to Rochester only when she can come as his equal.
- Step 3: Build a thesis connecting the choice to the whole work: Jane's refusal isn't a rejection of love but a refusal to give up herself, and the novel tests that refusal from both sides.
- Step 4: Organize by idea: (1) the childhood roots of her self-respect; (2) the choice to leave Rochester; (3) refusing St. John, which shows she won't give herself up to duty either; (4) the ending as a marriage of equals.
Answer: Thesis: In Jane Eyre, Jane's decision to leave Rochester shows that the novel's real subject is a woman's right to keep her own self, because Brontë has her refuse both a marriage without legitimacy and a marriage without love before she can accept a marriage between equals. Sample body paragraph: Jane's choice is not a sudden act of virtue but the adult form of a resistance she has shown since childhood. As a girl, she fights back against her cousin's bullying, is locked in the red-room for it, and later tells her aunt to her face how unjustly she has been treated; as a woman who loves Rochester, she tells herself, "I care for myself. The more solitary, the more friendless, the more unsustained I am, the more I will respect myself." The phrase "care for myself" isn't selfishness; it is the same refusal to be owned that the child expressed in rage, now held calmly. Brontë then tests this principle from the opposite side when St. John Rivers offers a marriage built on duty without love, and Jane refuses again. Because she rejects both offers, the famous opening of the final chapter, "Reader, I married him," reads as a marriage she chooses on her own terms. (Annotation: the paragraph moves across the whole novel and ties each detail to the thesis.)
Common mistakes
- Retelling the plot instead of arguing. Every piece of plot needs commentary that ties it to your thesis.
- Choosing a work you don't know well because it fits the prompt better. Depth of knowledge beats a perfect fit.
- Writing about one scene only. The top evidence-and-commentary score requires connecting evidence to the work as a whole.
- Getting names or events wrong. Small errors suggest you don't know the work well; prepare your works in advance.
On the exam
- The literary argument is Question 3, and you have about 40 minutes for it in the 2-hour essay section. Spend the first 5–8 minutes choosing a work and outlining.
- Choose a novel or play that fits the prompt well enough and that you know deeply. Poems don't work for this question, since it asks for a work of fiction with enough development to discuss as a whole.
- Sophistication on this essay often comes from tension in the work, like a choice that is right and costly at the same time, or from considering another reading of the ending.
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Check yourself
4 questions on 9.6 The literary argument essay: a work as a whole. Pick an answer to see if you got it, and why.
Paragraph 1
ALGERNON. Well, that is exactly what dentists always do. Now, go on! Tell me the whole thing. I may mention that I have always suspected you of being a confirmed and secret Bunburyist; and I am quite sure of it now.
Paragraph 2
JACK. Bunburyist? What on earth do you mean by a Bunburyist?
Paragraph 3
ALGERNON. I’ll reveal to you the meaning of that incomparable expression as soon as you are kind enough to inform me why you are Ernest in town and Jack in the country.
Paragraph 4
JACK. Well, produce my cigarette case first.
Paragraph 5
ALGERNON. Here it is. [Hands cigarette case.] Now produce your explanation, and pray make it improbable. [Sits on sofa.]
Paragraph 6
JACK. My dear fellow, there is nothing improbable about my explanation at all. In fact it’s perfectly ordinary. Old Mr. Thomas Cardew, who adopted me when I was a little boy, made me in his will guardian to his grand-daughter, Miss Cecily Cardew. Cecily, who addresses me as her uncle from motives of respect that you could not possibly appreciate, lives at my place in the country under the charge of her admirable governess, Miss Prism.
Paragraph 7
ALGERNON. Where is that place in the country, by the way?
Paragraph 8
JACK. That is nothing to you, dear boy. You are not going to be invited . . . I may tell you candidly that the place is not in Shropshire.
Paragraph 9
ALGERNON. I suspected that, my dear fellow! I have Bunburyed all over Shropshire on two separate occasions. Now, go on. Why are you Ernest in town and Jack in the country?
Paragraph 10
JACK. My dear Algy, I don’t know whether you will be able to understand my real motives. You are hardly serious enough. When one is placed in the position of guardian, one has to adopt a very high moral tone on all subjects. It’s one’s duty to do so. And as a high moral tone can hardly be said to conduce very much to either one’s health or one’s happiness, in order to get up to town I have always pretended to have a younger brother of the name of Ernest, who lives in the Albany, and gets into the most dreadful scrapes. That, my dear Algy, is the whole truth pure and simple.
Paragraph 11
ALGERNON. The truth is rarely pure and never simple. Modern life would be very tedious if it were either, and modern literature a complete impossibility!
Paragraph 12
JACK. That wouldn’t be at all a bad thing.
Paragraph 13
ALGERNON. Literary criticism is not your forte, my dear fellow. Don’t try it. You should leave that to people who haven’t been at a University. They do it so well in the daily papers. What you really are is a Bunburyist. I was quite right in saying you were a Bunburyist. You are one of the most advanced Bunburyists I know.
Paragraph 14
JACK. What on earth do you mean?
Paragraph 15
ALGERNON. You have invented a very useful younger brother called Ernest, in order that you may be able to come up to town as often as you like. I have invented an invaluable permanent invalid called Bunbury, in order that I may be able to go down into the country whenever I choose. Bunbury is perfectly invaluable. If it wasn’t for Bunbury’s extraordinary bad health, for instance, I wouldn’t be able to dine with you at Willis’s to-night, for I have been really engaged to Aunt Augusta for more than a week.
Paragraph 16
JACK. I haven’t asked you to dine with me anywhere to-night.
Paragraph 17
ALGERNON. I know. You are absurdly careless about sending out invitations. It is very foolish of you. Nothing annoys people so much as not receiving invitations.
Paragraph 18
JACK. You had much better dine with your Aunt Augusta.
Paragraph 19
ALGERNON. I haven’t the smallest intention of doing anything of the kind. To begin with, I dined there on Monday, and once a week is quite enough to dine with one’s own relations. In the second place, whenever I do dine there I am always treated as a member of the family, and sent down with either no woman at all, or two. In the third place, I know perfectly well whom she will place me next to, to-night. She will place me next Mary Farquhar, who always flirts with her own husband across the dinner-table. That is not very pleasant. Indeed, it is not even decent . . . and that sort of thing is enormously on the increase. The amount of women in London who flirt with their own husbands is perfectly scandalous. It looks so bad. It is simply washing one’s clean linen in public. Besides, now that I know you to be a confirmed Bunburyist I naturally want to talk to you about Bunburying. I want to tell you the rules.
Paragraph 20
JACK. I’m not a Bunburyist at all. If Gwendolen accepts me, I am going to kill my brother, indeed I think I’ll kill him in any case. Cecily is a little too much interested in him. It is rather a bore. So I am going to get rid of Ernest. And I strongly advise you to do the same with Mr. . . . with your invalid friend who has the absurd name.
Paragraph 21
ALGERNON. Nothing will induce me to part with Bunbury, and if you ever get married, which seems to me extremely problematic, you will be very glad to know Bunbury. A man who marries without knowing Bunbury has a very tedious time of it.
Paragraph 22
JACK. That is nonsense. If I marry a charming girl like Gwendolen, and she is the only girl I ever saw in my life that I would marry, I certainly won’t want to know Bunbury.
Paragraph 23
ALGERNON. Then your wife will. You don’t seem to realise, that in married life three is company and two is none.
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JACK. [Sententiously.] That, my dear young friend, is the theory that the corrupt French Drama has been propounding for the last fifty years.
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ALGERNON. Yes; and that the happy English home has proved in half the time.
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JACK. For heaven’s sake, don’t try to be cynical. It’s perfectly easy to be cynical.
Paragraph 27
ALGERNON. My dear fellow, it isn’t easy to be anything nowadays. There’s such a lot of beastly competition about. [The sound of an electric bell is heard.] Ah! that must be Aunt Augusta. Only relatives, or creditors, ever ring in that Wagnerian manner. Now, if I get her out of the way for ten minutes, so that you can have an opportunity for proposing to Gwendolen, may I dine with you to-night at Willis’s?
Paragraph 28
JACK. I suppose so, if you want to.
Paragraph 29
ALGERNON. Yes, but you must be serious about it. I hate people who are not serious about meals. It is so shallow of them.
Oscar Wilde, The Importance of Being Earnest, Act I (first performed 1895; published 1899)
Question 1 of 4
Which claim about the scene would best support a literary argument?
IAGO. Good name in man and woman, dear my lord,
Is the immediate jewel of their souls.
Who steals my purse steals trash. ’Tis something, nothing;
’Twas mine, ’tis his, and has been slave to thousands.
Line 5
But he that filches from me my good name
Robs me of that which not enriches him
And makes me poor indeed.
OTHELLO. By heaven, I’ll know thy thoughts.
IAGO. You cannot, if my heart were in your hand,
Line 10
Nor shall not, whilst ’tis in my custody.
OTHELLO. Ha?
IAGO. O, beware, my lord, of jealousy;
It is the green-ey’d monster which doth mock
The meat it feeds on. That cuckold lives in bliss
Line 15
Who, certain of his fate, loves not his wronger;
But O, what damned minutes tells he o’er
Who dotes, yet doubts, suspects, yet strongly loves!
OTHELLO. O misery!
IAGO. Poor and content is rich, and rich enough;
Line 20
But riches fineless is as poor as winter
To him that ever fears he shall be poor.
Good heaven, the souls of all my tribe defend
From jealousy!
OTHELLO. Why, why is this?
Line 25
Think’st thou I’d make a life of jealousy,
To follow still the changes of the moon
With fresh suspicions? No. To be once in doubt
Is once to be resolv’d: exchange me for a goat
When I shall turn the business of my soul
Line 30
To such exsufflicate and blown surmises,
Matching thy inference. ’Tis not to make me jealous,
To say my wife is fair, feeds well, loves company,
Is free of speech, sings, plays, and dances well;
Where virtue is, these are more virtuous:
Line 35
Nor from mine own weak merits will I draw
The smallest fear or doubt of her revolt,
For she had eyes, and chose me. No, Iago,
I’ll see before I doubt; when I doubt, prove;
And on the proof, there is no more but this:
Line 40
Away at once with love or jealousy!
IAGO. I am glad of it, for now I shall have reason
To show the love and duty that I bear you
With franker spirit: therefore, as I am bound,
Receive it from me. I speak not yet of proof.
Line 45
Look to your wife; observe her well with Cassio;
Wear your eye thus, not jealous nor secure.
I would not have your free and noble nature,
Out of self-bounty, be abus’d. Look to’t.
I know our country disposition well;
Line 50
In Venice they do let heaven see the pranks
They dare not show their husbands. Their best conscience
Is not to leave undone, but keep unknown.
OTHELLO. Dost thou say so?
IAGO. She did deceive her father, marrying you;
Line 55
And when she seem’d to shake and fear your looks,
She loved them most.
OTHELLO. And so she did.
IAGO. Why, go to then.
She that so young could give out such a seeming,
Line 60
To seal her father’s eyes up close as oak,
He thought ’twas witchcraft. But I am much to blame.
I humbly do beseech you of your pardon
For too much loving you.
OTHELLO. I am bound to thee for ever.
William Shakespeare, Othello, Act 3, Scene 3 (1622 quarto; 1623 folio)
Question 2 of 4
Othello’s reply at the end of the passage, “I am bound to thee for ever” (line 64), set beside his earlier insistence “I’ll see before I doubt” (line 38), most strongly supports which reading?
Paragraph 1
As I said this I suddenly beheld the figure of a man, at some distance, advancing towards me with superhuman speed. He bounded over the crevices in the ice, among which I had walked with caution; his stature, also, as he approached, seemed to exceed that of man. I was troubled; a mist came over my eyes, and I felt a faintness seize me, but I was quickly restored by the cold gale of the mountains. I perceived, as the shape came nearer (sight tremendous and abhorred!) that it was the wretch whom I had created. I trembled with rage and horror, resolving to wait his approach and then close with him in mortal combat. He approached; his countenance bespoke bitter anguish, combined with disdain and malignity, while its unearthly ugliness rendered it almost too horrible for human eyes. But I scarcely observed this; rage and hatred had at first deprived me of utterance, and I recovered only to overwhelm him with words expressive of furious detestation and contempt.
Paragraph 2
“Devil,” I exclaimed, “do you dare approach me? And do not you fear the fierce vengeance of my arm wreaked on your miserable head? Begone, vile insect! Or rather, stay, that I may trample you to dust! And, oh! That I could, with the extinction of your miserable existence, restore those victims whom you have so diabolically murdered!”
Paragraph 3
“I expected this reception,” said the dæmon. “All men hate the wretched; how, then, must I be hated, who am miserable beyond all living things! Yet you, my creator, detest and spurn me, thy creature, to whom thou art bound by ties only dissoluble by the annihilation of one of us. You purpose to kill me. How dare you sport thus with life? Do your duty towards me, and I will do mine towards you and the rest of mankind. If you will comply with my conditions, I will leave them and you at peace; but if you refuse, I will glut the maw of death, until it be satiated with the blood of your remaining friends.”
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“Abhorred monster! Fiend that thou art! The tortures of hell are too mild a vengeance for thy crimes. Wretched devil! You reproach me with your creation, come on, then, that I may extinguish the spark which I so negligently bestowed.”
Paragraph 5
My rage was without bounds; I sprang on him, impelled by all the feelings which can arm one being against the existence of another.
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He easily eluded me and said,
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“Be calm! I entreat you to hear me before you give vent to your hatred on my devoted head. Have I not suffered enough, that you seek to increase my misery? Life, although it may only be an accumulation of anguish, is dear to me, and I will defend it. Remember, thou hast made me more powerful than thyself; my height is superior to thine, my joints more supple. But I will not be tempted to set myself in opposition to thee. I am thy creature, and I will be even mild and docile to my natural lord and king if thou wilt also perform thy part, the which thou owest me. Oh, Frankenstein, be not equitable to every other and trample upon me alone, to whom thy justice, and even thy clemency and affection, is most due. Remember that I am thy creature; I ought to be thy Adam, but I am rather the fallen angel, whom thou drivest from joy for no misdeed. Everywhere I see bliss, from which I alone am irrevocably excluded. I was benevolent and good; misery made me a fiend. Make me happy, and I shall again be virtuous.”
Paragraph 8
“Begone! I will not hear you. There can be no community between you and me; we are enemies. Begone, or let us try our strength in a fight, in which one must fall.”
Paragraph 9
“How can I move thee? Will no entreaties cause thee to turn a favourable eye upon thy creature, who implores thy goodness and compassion? Believe me, Frankenstein, I was benevolent; my soul glowed with love and humanity; but am I not alone, miserably alone? You, my creator, abhor me; what hope can I gather from your fellow creatures, who owe me nothing? They spurn and hate me. The desert mountains and dreary glaciers are my refuge. I have wandered here many days; the caves of ice, which I only do not fear, are a dwelling to me, and the only one which man does not grudge. These bleak skies I hail, for they are kinder to me than your fellow beings. If the multitude of mankind knew of my existence, they would do as you do, and arm themselves for my destruction. Shall I not then hate them who abhor me? I will keep no terms with my enemies. I am miserable, and they shall share my wretchedness. Yet it is in your power to recompense me, and deliver them from an evil which it only remains for you to make so great, that not only you and your family, but thousands of others, shall be swallowed up in the whirlwinds of its rage. Let your compassion be moved, and do not disdain me. Listen to my tale; when you have heard that, abandon or commiserate me, as you shall judge that I deserve. But hear me. The guilty are allowed, by human laws, bloody as they are, to speak in their own defence before they are condemned. Listen to me, Frankenstein. You accuse me of murder, and yet you would, with a satisfied conscience, destroy your own creature. Oh, praise the eternal justice of man! Yet I ask you not to spare me; listen to me, and then, if you can, and if you will, destroy the work of your hands.”
Mary Shelley, Frankenstein, Chapter 10 (1831 edition). Victor Frankenstein is the narrator.
Question 3 of 4
Which claim about the passage is best supported?
Paragraph 1
“Oh! very well,” exclaimed Miss Bates, “then I need not be uneasy. ‘Three things very dull indeed.’ That will just do for me, you know. I shall be sure to say three dull things as soon as ever I open my mouth, shan’t I? (looking round with the most good-humoured dependence on every body’s assent)—Do not you all think I shall?”
Paragraph 2
Emma could not resist.
Paragraph 3
“Ah! ma’am, but there may be a difficulty. Pardon me—but you will be limited as to number—only three at once.”
Paragraph 4
Miss Bates, deceived by the mock ceremony of her manner, did not immediately catch her meaning; but, when it burst on her, it could not anger, though a slight blush shewed that it could pain her.
Paragraph 5
“Ah!—well—to be sure. Yes, I see what she means, (turning to Mr. Knightley,) and I will try to hold my tongue. I must make myself very disagreeable, or she would not have said such a thing to an old friend.”
Paragraph 6
While waiting for the carriage, she found Mr. Knightley by her side. He looked around, as if to see that no one were near, and then said,
Paragraph 7
“Emma, I must once more speak to you as I have been used to do: a privilege rather endured than allowed, perhaps, but I must still use it. I cannot see you acting wrong, without a remonstrance. How could you be so unfeeling to Miss Bates? How could you be so insolent in your wit to a woman of her character, age, and situation?—Emma, I had not thought it possible.”
Paragraph 8
Emma recollected, blushed, was sorry, but tried to laugh it off.
Paragraph 9
“Nay, how could I help saying what I did?—Nobody could have helped it. It was not so very bad. I dare say she did not understand me.”
Paragraph 10
“I assure you she did. She felt your full meaning. She has talked of it since. I wish you could have heard how she talked of it—with what candour and generosity. I wish you could have heard her honouring your forbearance, in being able to pay her such attentions, as she was for ever receiving from yourself and your father, when her society must be so irksome.”
Paragraph 11
“Oh!” cried Emma, “I know there is not a better creature in the world: but you must allow, that what is good and what is ridiculous are most unfortunately blended in her.”
Paragraph 12
“They are blended,” said he, “I acknowledge; and, were she prosperous, I could allow much for the occasional prevalence of the ridiculous over the good. Were she a woman of fortune, I would leave every harmless absurdity to take its chance, I would not quarrel with you for any liberties of manner. Were she your equal in situation—but, Emma, consider how far this is from being the case. She is poor; she has sunk from the comforts she was born to; and, if she live to old age, must probably sink more. Her situation should secure your compassion. It was badly done, indeed! You, whom she had known from an infant, whom she had seen grow up from a period when her notice was an honour, to have you now, in thoughtless spirits, and the pride of the moment, laugh at her, humble her—and before her niece, too—and before others, many of whom (certainly some,) would be entirely guided by your treatment of her.—This is not pleasant to you, Emma—and it is very far from pleasant to me; but I must, I will,—I will tell you truths while I can; satisfied with proving myself your friend by very faithful counsel, and trusting that you will some time or other do me greater justice than you can do now.”
Paragraph 13
While they talked, they were advancing towards the carriage; it was ready; and, before she could speak again, he had handed her in. He had misinterpreted the feelings which had kept her face averted, and her tongue motionless. They were combined only of anger against herself, mortification, and deep concern. She had not been able to speak; and, on entering the carriage, sunk back for a moment overcome—then reproaching herself for having taken no leave, making no acknowledgment, parting in apparent sullenness, she looked out with voice and hand eager to shew a difference; but it was just too late. He had turned away, and the horses were in motion. She continued to look back, but in vain; and soon, with what appeared unusual speed, they were half way down the hill, and every thing left far behind. She was vexed beyond what could have been expressed—almost beyond what she could conceal. Never had she felt so agitated, mortified, grieved, at any circumstance in her life. She was most forcibly struck. The truth of this representation there was no denying. She felt it at her heart. How could she have been so brutal, so cruel to Miss Bates! How could she have exposed herself to such ill opinion in any one she valued! And how suffer him to leave her without saying one word of gratitude, of concurrence, of common kindness!
Paragraph 14
Time did not compose her. As she reflected more, she seemed but to feel it more. She never had been so depressed. Happily it was not necessary to speak. There was only Harriet, who seemed not in spirits herself, fagged, and very willing to be silent; and Emma felt the tears running down her cheeks almost all the way home, without being at any trouble to check them, extraordinary as they were.
Jane Austen, Emma, Volume III, Chapter 7 (1815). Two excerpts from a picnic at Box Hill: the word game (paragraphs 1–5) and the end of the day (paragraphs 6–14).
Question 4 of 4
Which thesis about the passage is most defensible?
0 of 4 answered