We had lived in the shadow of the glassworks for so long that the dust had become a second skin, a fine, glittering caul that settled over our thoughts as surely as it did over the parlor furniture. My father spoke of the silica and the furnaces with a reverent intensity, describing the molten glass as a captured sun that we, by some grand privilege, were permitted to shape. From my stool near the cooling kilns, I watched him stoke the fires, his face bathed in a fierce crimson light, his hands scarred and calloused. For years, I saw our labor through the lens of his pride, believing that the smoke rising from the brick chimneys was the very breath of the town's vitality. I did not question the coughing fits that shook his frame at night, nor the way the air in our kitchen tasted of ash. To me, the heat of the furnace was a shield against the cold world outside. It was only when I wandered beyond the canal and stood before the tall, clear windows of the apothecary’s shop—gazing at the pristine glass jars filled with colorful syrups, unmarked by a single speck of soot—that I understood our labor did not belong to us. The glass we made was meant to keep the dust out of lives quite different from our own.
In the passage, the first-person narrative point of view primarily functions to achieve which of the following?
- trace the development of the narrator's consciousness from a state of inherited pride to a sudden awareness of economic alienationAnswer
- Bconvey the author's moral condemnation of the father's complicity in the exploitation of his children
- Ccritique the father's intentional manipulation of the narrator's perception of their working conditions
- Drecount the specific chronological events that led to the physical decline of the glassworks and the town
- Edramatize a hostile conflict between the narrator's desire for education and the father's insistence on manual labor