What is PPP? If you said purchasing power parity, points per possession, or perfect passive participle, you'd be right. Sort of. While all of these would fit the acronym, this PPP stands for Peculiar Poetry Philosophizing. It's a lengthy title, I realize, but that is why I made it alliterate -- therefore, the unofficial abbreviation will be PPP (or P3 if you prefer).
Peculiar Poetry Philosophizing is an offshoot of my English 210 class, Modern and Contemporary Poetry, taught by Ann Hostetler at Goshen College in the Spring 2011 semester. Here I will post various musings as they transpire (or are assigned). Sometimes the posts will even be at odd hours such as this one — although I suppose 2 a.m. is technically even, it would be 1 a.m. if Indiana understood the geographical basis of time zones.
As the previous sentence shows, I make no guarantee that my logic is perceptible to anyone else.
Until next time, keep the creative juices flowing!
Saturday, February 19, 2011
Friday, February 4, 2011
"Heritage" vs. J. Alfred Prufrock
CROSS-POSTED FROM MOODLE -- 3/6/11 23:28
I think that “Heritage” seems less American at first glance than “Prufrock” does. But upon closer inspection, that would imply that people of African descent were non-American, and clearly that is untrue. So perhaps the better statement is that my first response was that “Prufrock” seems to fit more into traditional Western thought than “Heritage” does. That could be interpreted to mean that non-Westerners cannot assimilate to our culture, which was not my intent. At any rate, you have my initial reaction – now I am going to stop before I wedge my foot further into my mouth.
Moving on, I don’t see a whole lot of new in either poem; maybe it’s my definition of new that is skewed. Before I wrote this post, I intentionally put aside these poems for a couple of days to see what about them would stick in my memory. For “Heritage,” it was the memory of thoughts of Africa, which Cullen speaks of in the past – almost as if he were expected to be more nostalgic for it than he is. In “Prufrock,” the major mental image is of the middle-aged, balding guy with parted hair walking by the seashore in rolled white pants while eating fruit. That image, I think, remains in my head more because it is rather disturbing than for any poetic reason whatsoever. It reminds me of my grandfather – or would if Grandpa liked fruit and owned white flannel trousers.
For something known as “modernism,” harkening back to Africa, white flannel trousers, and mermaids seems relatively outdated. And in this era of political correctness, it seems strange that I’d have stuck my foot so far into my mouth so far that it’s hit my stomach. Extricating that before class could be a challenge.
I think that “Heritage” seems less American at first glance than “Prufrock” does. But upon closer inspection, that would imply that people of African descent were non-American, and clearly that is untrue. So perhaps the better statement is that my first response was that “Prufrock” seems to fit more into traditional Western thought than “Heritage” does. That could be interpreted to mean that non-Westerners cannot assimilate to our culture, which was not my intent. At any rate, you have my initial reaction – now I am going to stop before I wedge my foot further into my mouth.
Moving on, I don’t see a whole lot of new in either poem; maybe it’s my definition of new that is skewed. Before I wrote this post, I intentionally put aside these poems for a couple of days to see what about them would stick in my memory. For “Heritage,” it was the memory of thoughts of Africa, which Cullen speaks of in the past – almost as if he were expected to be more nostalgic for it than he is. In “Prufrock,” the major mental image is of the middle-aged, balding guy with parted hair walking by the seashore in rolled white pants while eating fruit. That image, I think, remains in my head more because it is rather disturbing than for any poetic reason whatsoever. It reminds me of my grandfather – or would if Grandpa liked fruit and owned white flannel trousers.
For something known as “modernism,” harkening back to Africa, white flannel trousers, and mermaids seems relatively outdated. And in this era of political correctness, it seems strange that I’d have stuck my foot so far into my mouth so far that it’s hit my stomach. Extricating that before class could be a challenge.
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