"Occupying" America

To my shame, I do not keep up very well with much current national and global news.  I know that it’s something I should do, but with time at a premium in my life these days, keeping up with the news is almost always lifted off of the “to do” list in favor of other things.  So when I first heard people talk about “Occupy Wall Street,” the movement had already been in swing for almost a month and had already spread to other places outside of Wall Street.

Photo by James Fassinger- featured on www.guardian.co.uk

Now I am trying to catch up.  Seeing and hearing the updates given by different media outlets regarding the protest, the tent cities, and the frays at times (for lack of a better term) has prompted me to look more into what the movement is about and what these protestors are wanting.  I get that they are upset at Wall Street, or probably more importantly, what Wall Street stands for to them, and also with a government that they see as feeding the problems with which they are concerned, but I wanted to know if there was more to it than that.

What I have found doesn’t really help to clarify a whole lot for me.  From what I have read on forums at a few different sites, it seems that the “Occupy” protestors are frustrated with media persons who claim that they don’t have a cohesive, unifying message, and I can understand their frustration.  But from what I’ve read in this article from Huffingtonpost.com, I also think that these media persons have a point.  This article points out that, when several people from three of the main “Occupy” sites were asked what one policy they would like to see enacted today to address America’s problems, the responses were basically all over the board, from campaign reform to tax restructuring to environmental issues to anti-war issues.  In looking at these responses, only one thing really seems to be clear to me:  these protestors think there’s a lot wrong with our country and want to see a lot of things changed.

I don’t agree with all of the concerns these protestors mention, but I can relate to some of them and am absolutely for their right to peaceful protest.  It just seems to me that their protest would be more successful if they could come together under some kind of organized message or aim, as right now they appear to me (as well as to others I know) to be a collection of people that are just disgruntled with the hand they’ve been dealt in life.  I know this is mainly untrue (although I’m sure there are some there that just like to protest… just to be contrary), but perception goes a long way, especially with our media-saturated culture.  I hate to admit this, but no matter how hard I try to be open-minded about this, I’m having a bit of a difficult time taking this as seriously as these protestors want to be taken.

Viruses Anyone?

I recently read a small little blurb in the December 3, 2011, issue of World magazine entitled “Pox Parcels” (19).  Of course, the title caught my eye quickly, but if it hadn’t, the small cartoon of a boy with red dots all over his face and licking a lollipop probably would have done the same.  Evidently parents who are philosophically opposed to vaccinating their children against the chicken pox virus seek to expose their children to other children with the virus in an attempt to get them infected with it and thus build up their immunity to it.  The thinking is that this illness is much more dangerous to adults than it is to children.  To my surprise, a search on Google resulted in my finding that these kinds of “Pox Parties” are not such a recent phenomenon but have been carried out for decades and are not restricted to the chicken pox virus.

This article, however, cites the recent trend of some of these “anti-vaccination” parents seeking pox-infected items over social networking sites.  According to the article, one Facebook page entitled “Find a Pox Party in your Area” was trying to help parents send contaminated items (such as licked lollipops) to other parents who wished to infect their children.  There’s one glitch, though, as the article points out:  “Knowingly sending infected items through the United States Mail is a federal offense” (19).  As this story has now made its way to the public, the Facebook page is now encouraging these parents to make their transactions through private channels.

Seriously?!  I try not to be too judgmental of parenting styles, as I have no children myself, and I have nothing against parents who choose not to vaccinate their children.  I haven’t done any research on the subject, but I assume that these parents have reasonable reasons why they are against such a thing.  But to knowingly and intentionally expose your child to a serious illness in order to build immunity seems a touch dangerous to me.  It’s my understanding that, although rare, there are times when complications can arise stemming from chicken pox that are much more dangerous than the virus itself and can result in brain damage and death, and I have also heard that chicken pox itself can be life-threatening if not treated properly. 

To be completely honest, though, what stands out to me the most about this article and these “pox parcels” is the whole licked-lollipop thing.  Really?  You’re gonna let your kid suck on a lollipop that has been sucked on by some other random kid about whom you know very little to possibly even nothing?  I’m not a germaphobe, but this is a little out there even for me.

Gratefulness

Standing in my kitchen, waiting on a pie to finish baking and trying desperately to figure out what to write in this blog, I’m staring blankly at my refrigerator when all of a sudden I begin to take notice of all of the pictures stuck to it by magnets.  I would estimate there are around 20 or 30 photographs placed all over it, most of these senior pictures of students from our church.  You see, my husband has been an associate/youth pastor at our church for over 11 years, and every year in May we receive pictures from many of our graduating seniors, pictures that inevitably find a home on our refrigerator door.  I very rarely ever take one off, and so one can imagine the gallery we’ve accumulated of recent.

While looking at these photos, a thought drifts across my mind:  man, I am so blessed.  With the hustle and bustle of every day life and the issues and trials that unavoidably crop up, I many times find myself becoming discontent and restless in my life.  But looking at these photographs reminds me of all the wonderful friendships with which I’ve been blessed, all of the students I’ve had the awesome opportunity to invest in and to see changed as they grow, and I think to myself how good I’ve really got it.  An incredible husband, a job I enjoy going to, and a ministry with students that I’ve grown to love—how can I possibly ever be ungrateful for what God has given me?

The Power of a Simple Gift

So I am what some might call a Christmas freak.  I get giddy this time of year when I start to see the Christmas decorations go up in the stores and hear yuletide music playing over the speakers.  I love to look at all of the shiny bows and wrapping paper and get excited about buying Christmas boxes with glitter all over them, and I simply cannot wait to go Christmas shopping for family and friends.

There is something more, though, that gets me even more excited at this time of year.  This is the time of year that the Samaritan’s Purse organization runs their Operation Christmas Child project helping children in need across the globe.  In this project, Samaritan’s Purse asks people to give to children around the world by packing shoeboxes (or containers of like size) with all kinds of items such toys, school supplies, hygiene items, and more, which they then collect and send off to children in need.  Last year alone they sent over 8.17 million boxes from over ten different countries.  The following is this year’s Operation Christmas Child promo video:

Friday night my husband and I went shopping and spent about two hours picking out items for two shoeboxes—one for a girl and one for a boy.  We had an incredible time together choosing the things that we felt would bring a big Christmas smile to their recipients, and we look forward to tracking our boxes online this year to see what country they end up in. 

What an excellent opportunity to bring Christmas to those who might never have gotten any kind of present the whole year through!  Yes, this is truly one of my very favorite things about Christmas!

Burly Mountain Woman

In one of the student-led discussions in my Comp class this semester, we were asked what our dream vacation would look like.  In thinking of an answer to this question (an answer that I ultimately never found—just so many great places I’d like to visit), I couldn’t help but think back through all of the great vacations that I’ve been fortunate enough to take throughout my life.

Included in these are the several visits I have made to the state of Colorado with my handsome husband.  Before we married I wouldn’t have been considered what people might call an “outdoorsy” girl, and although I still might not be considered that now, my extremely active and “outdoorsy” husband has brought at least some wilderness and adventure out of me.  The first vacation we ever went on, other than our honeymoon to Hawaii, was an extended weekend vacation to Colorado Springs, during which we hiked and biked all over Garden of the Gods and the Pikes Peak recreational areas.  On our way back to Oklahoma my husband commented that we might need to train a little bit before we go the next time, and I remember thinking to myself, Hmmm, if you have to train for it, is it really considered a vacation?  At that point in my life, vacations to me were not painted with rigorous activities for which one must train.

Gray's Peak, September 2007

Well, my view of vacations eventually changed thanks to our second trip to Colorado in the summer of 2007.  When planning for our visit to the Keystone area of CO, my husband told me that he wanted to hike Gray’s Peak, one of over 50 “14ers” (peaks over 14,000 feet) in the state.  I replied that I would be more than game to do that; after all, I really enjoy leisurely hikes in the beauty of the Rockies.  Boy, was I in for a surprise!  Hiking a 14er can be described in many ways, none of which should include the word “leisurely,” in my opinion.  And although I was in okay shape (not the best, but certainly not horrible), there was a point about a quarter of a mile from the summit where I was pretty sure I wasn’t going to make it.

Mt. Elbert, August 2009

I did make it, however, and the experience really impacted me in a way I never expected.  For one, I realized that I had just accomplished my greatest physical feat up to that point; this was one of the greatest rushes I had ever experienced.  Secondly, I realized that I wanted to do it again… and again… and again.  Two years later we traveled to Aspen (actually, kind of just ended up there—long story) and summited Mt. Elbert, Colorado’s tallest peak.  The year after that we took students from our church to a leadership camp in Lake City, CO, where we were able to summit Handies Peak with our entire group.  Ever since, we have been regular visitors to 14ers.com where we have been searching for the next peak we want to climb.

Handie's Peak, August 2010

When I think back on the best vacations I have ever been on, these peak hikes are right there at top of the list.  I’ve been fortunate enough to have visited some amazing places, but there’s nothing that quite compares to standing on the top of a mountain summit knowing that I’ve just spent myself hiking to that very spot, to feel the burn in my lungs and my legs and know that I’ve accomplished this.

Not for Women

A few days ago, I recently viewed the above commercial (from YouTube) for the first time.  My husband found it to be pretty funny, and I did too when I finally could figure out where I had previously seen the main actor in it.  I particularly enjoyed how he spills his soda all over himself in an attempt to pour it into a glass full of ice while riding through what appears to be a remake of an action scene from… well, take your pick of any recent action movies that take place in a jungle.

What I found to be especially funny, though, is what this soda is and to whom they are marketing it.  Dr. Pepper TEN is a ten-calorie drink being marketed specifically to men.  In fact, the actor even says, “It’s not for women,” at the end of the commercial, just in case we didn’t get that vibe from its other content.  Don’t get me wrong; I think the commercial is pretty clever and all and rightly engineered to appeal to all of the macho, I-don’t-want-to-be-seen-as-girly-so-I-won’t-even-go-near-anything-that-could-be-thought-of-as-girly men out there in the world today.  But my question is this:  does the fact that this drink has ten more calories than zero calorie diet drinks (that apparently are seen as womanly by many?) really make that much of a difference to men out there who won’t drink diet?  I mean, it’s ten calories… just ten.  Doesn’t that still make it a diet drink, and if so, will the marketing alone drive these men to buy it?  This one is just pretty interesting to me.

Proud to Be a Red Birds Fan

Most everyone who knows me well knows that I am a St. Louis Cardinals baseball fan.  In all honesty, growing up in St. Louis makes it really difficult not to be.  With arguably the greatest fans in the game, we in and from St. Louis definitely love our Red Birds, which is why I’m completely stoked that they are in the World Series this week.

I understand that, for many, watching baseball is an acquired taste, and for some, watching sports altogether is a waste of time.  For me, watching the Cardinals play isn’t only strategic and stimulating; it’s a connection linking me to family members who I see only once or twice a year.  My parents and older brothers all still live in St. Louis and I, of course, in Woodward, yet when I’m watching or listening to a Cardinals baseball game, I can be assured I’m not the only one of my family doing so.  And I’ve even come to expect a phone call from one of them (most likely my mom—the biggest Cardinals fan you’ll ever meet) after a close game or a big win.

You see, silly as this all may sound to some, Cardinals baseball played a key role in my family life growing up.  When I was a young elementary school student, my parents didn’t really have a whole lot.  Amazingly we always had food on the table and clothes on our backs, but looking back, there were times I’m not quite sure how they pulled it off.  Our family definitely was not in a position financially to take many vacations, which of course is not unlike many families today.  However, my parents always made sure that we got at least one vacation every summer:  a trip to Busch Stadium in downtown St. Louis to see a Cardinals baseball game.  My brothers and I helped to pull this off, as our elementary school gave away free Cardinals tickets for straight A’s, and my mom and dad always saw to it that going to the game was a special event, right down to arriving early for batting practice and buying the souvenir plastic cups at the concession stand.  I might agree with those who say watching a game on television can be dull (except when it’s a post-season game), but I still boldly proclaim that there’s nothing like watching a baseball game at Busch Stadium (old or new).

So basically you know where I’ve spent my nights for the past couple of weeks and where I’ll be for at least a couple nights more.  In fact, as I write I am watching Game Four of the series, and unfortunately, the Cards are down 4-0 with only one more chance to get some runs.  Not looking good for tonight and I’m not really sure if they can pull out the series over the Rangers, but hey—they were ten and a half games down late in August and three games out with only five to play at the end of the season.  I’m just thrilled that they’re even in it!

A Nagging Question...

Tonight is the last night of my Modern British Poetry class, so I’m just gonna jump into things right off by posing a question that has been nagging me all semester:  Can my, or for that matter, anyone’s interpretations of works of poetry really be wrong?  I’ve seen some of my classmates post that they disagree with my or others’ responses to poems (which I’m almost totally fine with), and I myself have thought at times when reading others’ interpretations, I don’t really think that’s what this poem is saying.  But given the subjectivity of poetry, especially modern and postmodern poetry that tends to be obscure and unclear for several different purposes, can someone’s interpretation, given that it’s an interpretation within the realm of possibility, be wrong?  In my mind I think, Well, the poet obviously had a meaning in mind when he/she wrote the poem, so really, it seems that there can only be one possible meaning and we’re just giving our best guess as to what it is.  But then I think, What if the poet has a meaning in mind but also leaves open the possibility for other interpretations?  And then I wonder if the writer’s intention can even be considered in this postmodern culture, and instead we’re just destined to be left with this subjective lump of words that can mean different things at different times.  Perhaps the writer has intention, but then the language takes over and becomes a life unto itself.  To be sure, the way people today interpret “Hawk Roosting” could possibly be somewhat different than the way people interpreted it in the time when it was first published.

Unfortunately, this is still where I am; I have no good answers for any of these questions.  I just keep nervously offering up my own views on the poems we read, hoping against all odds that my responses aren’t too lame or too far out there.  Thankfully, my classmates have been gentle with me, and I have really learned a lot from their responses.  I have also enjoyed learning about the lives and writings of these poets, and ironically enough, I have enjoyed reading and thinking about each poem.  It’s nice to know that I may struggle and toil to understand what a poem is saying, but I still have no problem appreciating the beauty or complexity of the language… and that’s something.

In the Mind's Eye

So the end of my Modern British Poetry class is drawing near, and through all the discussions we’ve had over the several poems we’ve read, I’ve come away with one interesting little insight.  When looking at the several responses I have given to the discussion questions for each poem, I have realized something about the way I interpret poetry, and probably for that matter, all literary works:  I tend to interpret literature quite… well… literally.  I tend towards looking closely at sections of words and phrases to try to understand what each could mean, and then I try to piece all of those meanings together to come up with an overall interpretation.  I struggle with symbolism and figurative language, and as far as fragmentation and obscurity go… well, let’s just say I won’t be publishing a critical book about modern poetry anytime soon.  I’m sure I’ve driven my classmates crazy with some of my discussion responses, to which I can only say, I’m sorry; this is just the way I am. 

You see, when thinking about my responses and realizing the literalness (not to be confused with literariness!) of my interpretations, I came to the conclusion that I really shouldn’t be surprised; this is just the type of person that I am.  It’s the way I see the world.  I’m a black-and-white, objective, everything-should-be-clear kind of girl, so it’s not too shocking that I would interpret writing in this way—which leads me to my insight.  In seeing this about myself, I realized that everyone else probably does this as well.  We can’t help but interpret writing in the same way and through the same lens we interpret everything in our world.  It’s simply impossible for us to get outside of our heads and our hearts to interpret outside the boundaries of our worldviews.  This is not to say that we cannot be open-minded and consider other possibilities and even find a meaning to a poem that is in contrast with our world view; I just see that when interpreting writing that is subjective, just as when interpreting life, we are all going to exhibit certain tendencies of interpretation that are direct results of the way we view our world.  This came to be specifically clear to me in my response to one of the poems we looked at this week:  “Hawk Roosting” by Ted Hughes.  I ended up responding to the poem based on a major tenet of what I believe about humanity; the way I view the world manifested itself in the way I interpreted what the poem was saying, and I must also say in a way with which others probably disagreed.

I admit that this little insight is nothing super profound, but it’s kind of nice to discover these little things about myself.  At the very least, I’m hoping that this discovery will help me be a little more confident about posting my thoughts on different works of literature.  Most of the time, I’m throwing interpretations out there hoping they don’t sound too very stupid.  If anything, maybe now I can post my views with the assurance of knowing that it’s okay that others may not agree with me; it’s just the way that I see things, and if not right, at least it’s valid.

Do You See It?

The above painting, Landscape with the Fall of Icarus by Pieter Bruegel, finds itself as the centerpiece of a poem by W. H. Auden:  “Musée des Beaux Arts.”  The speaker of the poem seems as if to be walking through a museum (the title being French for “museum of fine art”), musing on the scenes depicted in the paintings he/she sees, particularly musing on the depictions of human suffering juxtaposed with depictions of ordinary life.  In the second part of the poem the speaker specifically references Bruegel’s painting, mentioning how everything in the landscape surrounding Icarus’ fall continues on as if the tragedy is nothing especially significant.

In class, we were asked to think about what Auden might be trying to say about human suffering, and mainly two different interpretations were offered, both very appropriate.  One interpretation is that tragedy is simply one part of the larger picture of life; suffering happens, and life goes on through it.  The other interpretation, the one that came first in my mind, is that Auden is using the poem like Bruegel was using the painting:  to highlight the unawareness of humans to suffering that does not directly affect their own lives.  The ploughman in the picture gives no sign of even noticing the fall; the shepherd has his back turned and his face up to the sky.  The fisherman doesn't even glance up.  The ship in the water has perhaps the best perspective on the tragedy, yet Auden writes, “…and the expensive delicate ship that must have seen / Something amazing, a boy falling out of the sky, / Had somewhere to get to and sailed calmly on” (19-21).  Point being, we as humans tend only to notice that which has some bearing to our own lives, and we struggle to be aware of and compassionate to the pain and suffering of others.

I write all of this to relate something interesting that one of my classmates posted regarding this poem.  In a small experiment with the poem’s interpretation, she asked her mother to look at the painting and see if she noticed anything unusual about it.  It wasn’t until this student pointed her mother to the water that her mother noticed the legs of the drowning boy.  I thought this was a great experiment, seeing as I had to admit that I had a difficult time identifying the boy myself, and I knew what I was looking for from the content of the poem.  I’m not sure if I would have seen the drowning Icarus otherwise.  While not seeing something in a painting probably does not prove conclusively that her mother and I are oblivious to human suffering, it is still so interesting to me that Bruegel painted his scene in such a way that the people within the painting are not the only ones that do not notice the tragic end of Icarus.  This may not prove that I’m indifferent to others’ suffering, but it does get me to thinking about it, and that’s possibly the whole point of the painting… and the poem.

So what about you?  Did you see the drowning boy in the painting right off, or did you only look for the scene after reading some of this post?

"Precise and Explicit"... Poetry?

This week I read for the first time W. H. Auden’s poem titled “September 1, 1939.”  Written in the wake of Nazi Germany’s invasion of Poland which resulted in the onset of World War II, the poem portrays the uncertainty and anxiety of the day, as well as seemingly conveys certain negative opinions regarding America’s isolationist views at that time and the view of the poet as a voice of truth in culture.  Auden wrote this poem while in New York City, which coupled with its descriptions of the angst felt by the society at that time, is probably why the poem was often quoted and reprinted in the wake of the September 11th terrorist attacks in 2001.

Peter Steinfels, in a New York Times article printed in December 2001, testifies to the attention the poem was receiving at that time, but he also questions whether or not the attention was appropriate for the occasion.  He tells of a letter submitted to The Times Literary Supplement’s “Letters of New York” section in which the letter’s author claims that the poem is superficial and misleading and includes subtle pro-Communist sentiments and not-so-subtle anti-American ones.  Steinfels also mentions a letter presented in answer to these claims, this letter asserting that much of the poem’s stanzas are simply proclaiming indisputable truths about the human nature and are not negative commentary on the U.S.  He points to this controversy as evidence of the changing cultural climate in America, one which he believes demands “that ideas and language, especially about war and peace but also about religion and moral obligation, be precise and explicit” (13).  Yet he also claims that poetry demands “generosity of spirit” (13), and in so doing, he basically leaves unanswered the question of what the substance and use of poetry today should be.

I guess the question that lingers in my mind while reading this is, What does it really mean that language about war, religion and the like should be “precise and explicit” in today’s culture?  I’m guessing this means that if people have a desire to express their views about one of these weighty subjects, they should do so in a specific and straight-forward manner—just avoid subtlety, avoid embellishment, avoid symbolism of any kind and simply come out with what they wish to convey?  Okay, I understand that the issue some people currently have with Auden’s poem is that it subtly expresses ideas and views that to some aren’t very popular today (and probably weren’t in his day either) and that these ideas appear to be masked to many because of the manner in which he presented them (the author of the first letter mentioned above points to the poem’s “seductive cadences” (13)).  I guess the part I don’t understand is this:  if Auden removed the creativity, the adornment of language, the allusions and the subtlety, and just spit out his views as some today might suggest, what would have happened to the poetry of his poem?  After all, isn’t this what makes poetry… poetry?  Without the imagery, the metaphorical language, the “strangeness” (to borrow from the Formalists) and the mystery, what then separates poetry from prose work?  That it’s written in verses and stanzas?

You know, it’s funny to me that I’m even writing about this.  I’ve never really been a big reader of poetry, and I don’t even now feel this great responsibility to defend it from anyone.  I just read this interesting article, which in all honesty, I may be totally misunderstanding (although it seems to be written in language that is “precise and explicit”), and it got me to thinking.  Is the problem the writer of the first letter has really about the way in which Auden expressed himself, or is the writer’s problem more with the views Auden expressed in his poem (views which Auden later attempted to revise and remove)?  To me, the matter is simple:  Auden was not responding to the 9/11 terrorist attacks, and therefore a comparison to me seems a little bit unfair.  He was writing to a culture at the beginning of one of the biggest wars in our history, and he was simply voicing what he was feeling at that time.  He saw himself to be a voice of truth in his time, and so he was writing from that vantage point, whether we today agree with what he wrote.  In fact, we don’t have to agree with him; we don’t even have to read him (unless, of course, it’s an assignment for class).  We do, I believe, need to allow that he had the right to express his opinions in the manner in which he chose to do so, and we must allow that others in our culture today have that same right.  I know in saying this that I am allowing for people to express views I detest in ways that I detest, but if I am allowed to do so, how can I deny others this same privilege?

(And yes, I see the irony in this whole entry:  if Auden can express his views in however he chooses, then the writer of the letter oft mentioned above can also express his views about Auden’s views, Steinfels can express his views about the demands today’s culture has on language, and I can express my views about this whole crazy mess.  So… what was my point exactly?)

Beneath the Surface

So this week I have been reading up on some of the poetry that has been produced within the last ten years or so.  To explain what a strange phenomenon this is for me, I must admit that I haven’t read this much contemporary poetry since I was a grade-schooler addicted to the whimsical poetry of Mr. Shel Siverstein.  (“Boa Constrictor” and “Sick” are still among my favorites!)  Basically I have been looking at 21^st-century poetry to see if I could make a comparison between it and the poetry of the modern era, and much to my delight, I happened upon some poetry that I so enjoyed I didn’t want to stop reading.

The author of this poetry is Billy Collins, American poet who was the Poet Laureate of the U.S. from 2001 to 2003.  To be truthful, I simply wandered into his poetry while trying to figure out who the “big” poets are nowadays.  I just don’t read poetry much anymore, and even when I used to (in small doses), the authors were always dead ones that lived at least 100 years or so before my time.  So I found myself on poets.org where I found Collins’ name at the top of the site’s “Most Popular Contemporary Poets” list.  I first read his poem “Litany,” and from there I was hooked.  From there, I kept reading poem after poem, truly delighted by his light-hearted wit and subtle (and sometimes not so subtle) sarcasm.  I even laughed out loud when reading his poem “Candle Hat,” where he mentions Francisco de Goya “laughing like a birthday cake” while showing his wife his now-famous hat.

Perhaps the heart-warming playfulness found in his verse reminds me of Silverstein a bit; every once in a while I enjoy reading poetry that doesn’t require me to wade through its depths—that doesn’t confound me at every turn of phrase.  Yet in this same vein, Silverstein’s poetry is not the only comparison to be made to Collins’.  A connection can also be made to the poetry of the modern British poet Stevie Smith.  I have also been reading her poetry this week as well, and I see at least one very striking similarity between her writing and that of Collins.  Although they both have written light, fun and playful poems, beneath the surface of much of their poetry lays greater depth and meaning.  Now, don’t get me wrong—they both have written poetry that is simply fun and humorous (see Smith’s “The Englishwoman” and Collins’ “Flames”), but they both also have a wonderful knack for using their light-hearted verse to make a deeper point.  Two poems that do just that and in very similar ways:  “Not Waving but Drowning” by Smith and “Embrace” by Collins, which both speak of people who are not doing as well as they seem to be.

So all in all, I’ve had a pretty enjoyable week in the world of poetry.  And another thing that I thought was kind of interesting:  Stevie Smith illustrated much of her poetry with black and white line drawings much like the illustrations that accompany Silverstein’s own poems.  Well… no wonder I like Smith’s poems!

A "Grimm" Fairy Tale Indeed

Lady, three white leopards sat under a juniper-tree

In the cool of the day, having fed to satiety

On my legs my heart my liver and that which had been contained

In the hollow round of my skull.  And God said

Shall these bones live?  shall these

Bones live?

-from section II of “Ash Wednesday” by T. S. Eliot

After I recently read the above lines for the very first time, I couldn’t help but think to myself what an odd and, it must be noted, somewhat horrific image to evoke in a poem that seems to begin as a prayer of sorts.  As I read through the rest of the poem, I continued to contemplate why Eliot would choose to include this picture and what kind of meaning it could have to the poem as a whole.  I caught the whole reference to Ezekiel and the bones allusion (“And God said / Shall these bones live?”), but I still was struggling to put it all together in my mind (not an uncommon occurrence when I read poetry, trust me).  After reading an article by James T. Bratcher about another source Eliot drew upon for this image (in Bratcher’s opinion, the primary source), I think I’ve come to a richer understanding of this section of “Ash Wednesday” and have formulated my own basic interpretation of how this section fits with the overall theme of the poem.

Bratcher asserts that Eliot’s primary source for this section of the poem is the story known as “The Juniper Tree,” number 47 of the over 200 “fairy tales” the Grimm brothers included in their collection Children and Household Tales in the early 1800s.  As I was unfamiliar with this story, I found a link to a translation (listed at the end of this post) and read it from start to finish.  The story features a man and woman very in love but unable to have children.  Eventually, under a juniper tree the woman voices her desire for children and soon after conceives a son.  The tale relates that she is so happy at his birth that she dies, and her husband buries her under the juniper tree.  He eventually marries again and has a daughter with his new wife, who ends up being a pretty bitter stepmother to the son who is not hers.  She feels that the boy is the only thing standing in the way of her daughter receiving the whole inheritance of the father, and she is thus so overcome with hatred for the boy that she ends up killing him… by decapitating him with the lid of a large, heavy chest!  She then devises this scheme to make her little daughter believe that she’s the one who blew his head off, and to cover up his death, the stepmother ultimately chops the boy up and cooks him into a stew… that she then feeds to the unknowing father!  Seriously?  This is a children’s story??  (German children in the 1800s must have had much stronger stomachs than I!)

Anyway, the beauty of this “fairy tale,” in my opinion, comes when the boy’s half-sister, filled with grief, wraps his bones in a silk scarf and lays them under the juniper tree where his mother is buried.  Miraculously, the boy's bones are transformed into a beautiful bird that can mesmerize people with its voice.  The rest of the story involves several other minor characters, a gold chain, red shoes, and a millstone incident that… well, I’ve already said too much; I don’t want to spoil it too much for you if you haven’t already read it. 

At any rate, it is this transformation portion of the tale that directly relates to the story of Ezekiel that I mentioned above (Ezekiel 37) and to section II of “Ash Wednesday.” In Ezekiel 37 we see God take the prophet Ezekiel to a valley filled with dried bones.  God asks Ezekiel in verse three if the bones can live, and He exhorts Ezekiel to prophesy over the bones, which transforms them into a massive living army.  Similarly, "that which had been contained" in the speaker’s bones in “Ash Wednesday” come to life to chirp out their own song.  The whole bones-coming-to-life motif most obviously connects all of these works, but I also believe that these three stories connect on a more indirect level through the theme of resurrection or redemption.  In all three works, the dry bones come to life; they don’t remain dead and dry and useless.  I feel like this speaks to the overall theme of “Ash Wednesday,” in which the speaker, beat down in penitence from the weight of his sin, has come to God in repentance for his unbelief.  In his guilt, he is empty and defeated, eaten up by his sin and basically reduced to a bunch of dry, useless bones.  I believe it is in section II, however, where the speaker hints at the hope of redemption that comes after the sinner is made aware of and repents of his sin.  I believe it is this hope in which the speaker prays in the final section of the poem.

I must say that I do somewhat disagree with Mr. Bratcher in that I believe that section II of “Ash Wednesday” follows the Ezekiel 37 passage more in intent than Grimm’s “The Juniper Tree.”  There are a couple of reasons that I believe this, but as this post is already much longer than I intended, I will reserve my thoughts for another time.

Works Cited:

Bratcher, James T.  “Significance of the Juniper-Tree Story for Eliot’s Ash Wednesday.”  Notes & Queries 58.1 (2011):  110-112.  Web.  Academic Search Complete.  11 Sept. 2011.

Translation of “The Juniper Tree:”  http://www.pitt.edu/~dash/grimm047.html

A Game of Chess

If any of you reading this have ever read T. S. Eliot’s The Waste Land, you will probably agree that it is not the most easy of reads that poetry has to offer.  Eliot’s constant allusions to and fragments of other works, some in languages other than English, give the poem a disjointed and ambiguous feel and make reading the poem quite sluggish and arduous to say the least.  As I was reading this for the class I am currently engaged in online (Modern British Poetry), one of my assignments was to theorize what Eliot’s intentions might have been in writing so obscurely in this poem.  I answered that I thought he may have been using obscurity to promote a feeling of disillusionment in the reader that mirrored the disillusionment of the time of the poem’s composition—the dawning of the modern age of science and industry, the “death of religion” (as some saw it), and the suffering of the aftermath of the first World War. 

Although I still believe this could have been his intention, I just recently read an article by Caterina Fornero that promotes another theory.  In her article “Chess Is the Game Wherein I’ll Catch the Conscience of the King:  The Metaphor of the Game of Chess in T. S. Eliot’s The Waste Land,” Fornero suggests that Eliot’s title for the second section of the poem, A Game of Chess, describes how the poem truly functions as a whole.  She explains that Ferdinand De Saussure uses the picture of a game of chess to illustrate how linguistic signs are characterized—their “arbitrariness, oppositional negativity and differentiality” (Fornero, paragraph 9).  She goes on to claim that the obscure fragments and references that Eliot uses throughout the poem create a linguistic system similar to that which Saussure describes.  Because Eliot uses these fragments in ways in which they no longer reflect what they did in their original works (he instead just pastes them piece-meal over the text of the poem), they, like Saussure’s linguistic signs, become arbitrary.  Now, instead of finding meaning in the context of their original texts, these fragments extract their value from their relations to one another within Eliot’s text, and so they exhibit the characteristics of differentiality and oppositional negativity (in that they no longer have a positive identity in themselves but only an identity that comes from how they are relate differentially with other parts of the text).  Fornero says, “The semantic functioning of The Waste Land as a map of intersecting relations is thus a semantic model in its own right” (paragraph 11), and the title of the second section, A Game of Chess, becomes a clue to how the poem functions as a whole.  In fact, she asserts that this title, which is itself a reference from Middleton, is an example of Saussure’s theory in that it functions completely opposite of its original function in Middleton’s works.

Fornero goes on to explain that the illustration of the chess game is somewhat an imperfect analogy for the linguistic system because of the game piece of the King.  The King in the game is an autonomous piece that does not derive its value from its relationship to the other pieces and therefore acts the part of a type of central authority in the game.  She explains, though, that Eliot deals with this issue of the King by citing several images of dead, impotent, or toppled kings throughout The Waste Land.  Of course, in reading this, I immediately began to think of the time in which this poem was composed and how the culture seemed to truly lack a central authority in which the majority of people trusted.  Much of what I have read about this time alludes to how many of the people feel like religion and government had failed them, and they were looking for something in which to put their faith.  The Waste Land certainly embodies this feeling of wandering and uncertainty where a central authority for culture has been overthrown.

I really enjoyed Fornero’s analysis of the title A Game of Chess as it relates to The Waste Land.  I feel like her ideas still mesh well with my own thoughts about the feelings of disillusionment that the poem creates in that the arbitrariness and differentiality of the fragments work to create and push forward this kind of feeling.

Work Cited:

Fornero, Caterina.  “Chess Is the Game Wherein I’ll Catch the Conscience of the King:  The Metaphor of the Game of Chess in T. S. Eliot’s The Waste Land.”  Yeats Eliot Review 22.5 (2005):  2+.  Literature Resources from Gale.  Web.  4 Sept. 2011.

So Here Goes...

To be completely up front from the start, I have never even considered setting up a blog. Not that I have anything against blogs; I've even read a few in my time.  In all honesty, I've been mainly afraid that if I start a blog, it might become like my email account used to be-- just something that I rarely think about and visit only once every couple of months.

Now, however, I find myself beginning a blog in order to complete an assignment for an online class, and to be honest, I'm really starting to see the draw in it.  I have already enjoyed choosing backgrounds and text fonts and am considering continuing the blog even after the class is completed... if all goes well.

So for the next several weeks the posts on this blog will cover various subjects that pertain to the world of modern British poetry.  Currently I am studying The Waste Land by T. S. Eliot, and hopefully I will have a post completed soon pertaining to this popular poem.