CROSS-POSTED FROM MOODLE -- 3/6/11 23:22
A response to the number of questions in "The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock":
I count twelve occurrences of questions, but only nine questions, as variants of "how shall I presume?" occur thrice; "Do I dare?" is written twice in the same line.
This is not at all related to questions, but were I a mermaid, I would have no desire to sing to an aging man with his hair parted, eating a peach, and walking along the shoreline in rolled white flannel trousers.
"The Wasteland," sections IV and V (originally posted 49 minutes after above)
I agree with Daniel's assessment of Section IV to an extent, but it almost feels like the intensity of the cautionary tale is almost magnified -- not a warning that this CAN happen, but that it WILL.
Similarly, there is no denying that Section V is disjointed and discomforting. As I read it, my first thought is of someone perishing in the desert, like Jeremiah's vine (with added vultures for cinematic effect). Continuing, then, along those lines, is it possible that the first part of the final stanza (lines 425-7) are a sort of final flashback? Fishing does not seem logical as an action for the life stage at which the rest of the section places the protagonist, nor a likelihood that near to an arid plain, nor something one would do from London Bridge.
Friday, January 28, 2011
Wednesday, January 19, 2011
9/11 Poem Response
(CROSS-POSTED FROM MOODLE -- 3/6/11, 23:13)
My first thought upon finishing "Try to Praise the Mutilated World" is that Zagajewski never mentions how the world is mutilated -- the second thought was that I usually see the negatives (the exiles whose homes are overrun, for example) rather than the positives, perhaps more of an optimist/pessimist dichotomy than Zagajewski would have preferred.
In "Alabanza," coming to the poem with a knowledge of baseball history, the juxtaposition of the 9/11 airplane with Roberto Clemente's DC-7 in 1972 struck me. Clemente was flying to Nicaragua for relief efforts after an earthquake; his plane went down and all on board were killed, but it had no effect on the intended recipient. The attackers of September 11 knew into what they were getting, but the recipients had no clue what was to come.
"Dropping Leaflets" feels almost more like a collection of phrases than a more traditional poem; I think that enhances its mood, as especially in moments of crisis but often in the rest of our life as well we think not in long chains but short bursts. Particularly in the aftermath of 9/11 as I recall it, the only length to be seen was the path of those who (figuratively speaking) ran around in circles screaming.
My first thought upon finishing "Try to Praise the Mutilated World" is that Zagajewski never mentions how the world is mutilated -- the second thought was that I usually see the negatives (the exiles whose homes are overrun, for example) rather than the positives, perhaps more of an optimist/pessimist dichotomy than Zagajewski would have preferred.
In "Alabanza," coming to the poem with a knowledge of baseball history, the juxtaposition of the 9/11 airplane with Roberto Clemente's DC-7 in 1972 struck me. Clemente was flying to Nicaragua for relief efforts after an earthquake; his plane went down and all on board were killed, but it had no effect on the intended recipient. The attackers of September 11 knew into what they were getting, but the recipients had no clue what was to come.
"Dropping Leaflets" feels almost more like a collection of phrases than a more traditional poem; I think that enhances its mood, as especially in moments of crisis but often in the rest of our life as well we think not in long chains but short bursts. Particularly in the aftermath of 9/11 as I recall it, the only length to be seen was the path of those who (figuratively speaking) ran around in circles screaming.
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