In Beaumarchais’s Barber of Seville, The Count pursues Rosine through various schemes and disguises. He tries to ensure that she will not love him for the wrong reasons. Fate already decided early on that these two star-crossed lovers would fall in love and no one could interfere. A reminiscent, clichéd theme of enduring love demonstrates how fate manifests in comedies and provides an advantage for the protagonist.

In many ways Figaro embodies fate. As Dr. Bartholo’s barber, he can relay the count’s messages to and fro, devise plans, and revise them as their schemes unfold. The count warmly embraces Figaro, “Ah! Figaro! My friend!” You shall be my guardian angel, my liberator, my guiding spirit” (48). The count continues to list demands, “Just let me tell you this. She is going to be my wife. If you help me conceal my identity…you understand…you know me sufficiently…” (53). The count transforms Figaro into an enforcer of fate. Figaro loyally carries out various tasks and constantly takes the blame for the Count’s mistakes. Fate seems to be on the Count’s side.

Figaro’s role as a doomsayer explicitly elaborates his role in the story and how he represents fate. He tells Rosine about Bartholo’s intentions. Bartholo’s servant Youthful asks something fascinating, “I ask you, Master, is it fair, is it right, is it just?” (60). Bartholo believes justice is irrelevant to consequences because he is in control and he is the master. Yet clearly, fate seems to be rewarding characters deserving of assistance and guidance. Fate offers an advantage to the Count whose notions are pure: “Figaro will come to our aid” (79). Fate seems to be fluid and leans towards to side of those who live passionately and freely as Figaro states, “A man must live as he can” (85).

No matter how many attempts Bartholo manages, they all do not see fruition and fate had already chosen not to support him. Many characters are against his proposal to marry Rosine. Bazile himself tells Bartholo the whole explanation and still he cannot sway Bartholo’s ignorance. Rosine curiously asks in Act Two “isn’t fate unjust?” To which the answer is yes and no. It is “just” to those who reap the benefits and “unjust” for those who suffer as a consequence of lost benefits.

We’ve all watched the Disneyfied version of Hercules and seen those three ugly creatures with the scissors all sharing one eye. Yeah, it’s the Fates! Greek Mythology speaks of the Fates, who are these three sisters also called The Moirae. Well, the Greeks believe in a higher power that was in control at all times, some brave souls have tried defying them despite knowing what happens eventually. In Antigone, the characters all succumb to the sweeping decision of fate.

Poor Ismene mourns her “two brothers, both butchered/ in a single day—that ill-fated pair/  with their own hands slaughtered one another/and brought about their common doom”  (69-72). She grieves at what fate has brought upon her life. She cannot help but feel overwhelmed, thinking “we’ll die far worse than all the rest,/ if we defy the law and move against/the king’s decree, against his royal power” (74-76). Women did not hold a lot of power and rebelling would not result in any change. Ismene could not bury her brother and has to come to terms with abandoning his uncovered body.

Antigone recgonizes her own end, yet she cannot help but feel obligated to her loved ones. The King Creon has spoken and Antigone will be executed. “And so for me meeting this fate/ won’t bring any pain” (526-527). In this tragedy, we see the characters acknowledging the presence of fate and its effects of mankind but it still attempts to break free of the mold and even go beyond fate’s restrictions.

In Jhumpa Lahiri’s The Namesake and Jonathan Safran Foer’s Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close, both protagonist try to analyze and come to terms with their fathers’ deaths. They encounter sceneries and items that evoke memories of their past with their fathers. Through their memories, they are able to connect with their fathers who are no longer with them and find solace.

In The Namesake, Nikhil’s train rides triggers his the story of Ashoke’s story of how that “other train he has never seen, the one that nearly killed his father. Of the disaster that has given him his name” (Lihari 185). Nikhil has been constantly discovering himself. He finally realized the importance of his name. It’s a reminder of his father and everything his father has done for him. His name itself triggers memories. The birthday when his father gave him The Short Stories of Nikolai Gogol. Ashoke refrains from telling Nikhil the real reason why that is his gift. Ashoke “will never forget that night, it no longer lurks persistently in his mind, stalking him in the same way” (Lihari 78). Traces of Ghosh’s death linger in Nikhil’s name. Lihari manipulates powerful memories to make Nikhil’s namesake that much more significant.

In Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close, the only link Oskar had to his father was the key he finds in the envelope with “Black” written on it.  He goes around from apartment to apartment looking for the last remnants of his father. Foer’s method of extracting remembrance is through the images he uses. The “flipbook” of Oskar’s father falling pushes Oskar to wish for a safer and more peaceful time, the quotidien routine of his life with his father, the jeweler. One early morning, Oskar returns to his mother and his mother explains how his father had called beforehand confirming he “was on the street, that he’d gotten of of the building. He said he was walking home” (Foer 324). That line allows Oskar and his mother to realize what a loving father he was. He didn’t want his family to panic. Foer is able to draw out intense emotions through the remembrance of the deceased and what they signify.

I reminded of the deceased family members that imparted fond memories to me. Whenever I cook steamed red snapper with ginger, scallion and soy. I reminisce about my late grandmother in Canton who taught me how to cook my first dish at the age of five. I recall the pungent aromas and the loud cleaver chopping away. Like Ashoke tells Gogol about the time they forgot the camera when they wanted to capture the sunset on the docks. “Remember that you and I made this journey, that we went together to a place where there was nowhere left to go” (Lihari 187).