Thursday, September 9, 2010
Toning Down "Those Winter Sundays"
In my interpretation, the poem "Those Winter Days" by Robert Hayden took on a distinctive tone through its two short stanzas. The poem's descriptions such as the "blueblack cold", the father's "cracked hands that ached with labor", and the "cold splintering, breaking" of the weather were all words of pain, harshness, or some sort of cold reference. By the context of this poem, the household of the speaker does not sound like a pleasant one. There also seems to be a conflict between the boy and his father, but it is not elaborated upon. I thought that the speaker almost seemed regretful at some points in the poem. When he talks about all the work that his father did but how "no one ever thanked him" (line 5) it stirs sympathy from the readers for the father. He talks of "speaking indifferently" (line 10) towards his father as well which leads to further curiosity of their relationship. I got the vibe that this poem was written with the idea that the speaker is dealing with an inner conflict regarding his feelings towards his father, for reasons unknown to the audience.
Good Ole' Emily Dickinson
To kick off my first blog of the week, I thought I'd start with analyzing Emily Dickinson's writing techniques in the poem "I felt a Funeral, in my Brain". What struck me about this literary work was the fact that it is entirely composed as an extended metaphor. Although I was initially taking the poem more literally, after the class discussions this week I have come to a different, and overall better understanding of the work. The extended metaphor could be interpreted in a few contrastive ways, but I have chosen which I agree with the most. On one hand, the poem may be hinting at a migraine or a more physical pain. The reference of the service being "like a Drum" which "kept beating-beating till I thought my My Mind was going numb" (lines 7-8) could be referring to the pounding sensation of a migraine headache. Later, when Emily says "Then Space-began to toll, as all the Heavens were a Bell" (lines 9-10) I could see this also being a reference to the pain of hearing loud sounds while enduring a migraine.
The interpretation that I personally feel best fits this poem is the idea that it is about a person having a mental breakdown or going insane. I think that many details support this idea, starting with the fact that the speaker is inside the box (or more appropriately, a casket) throughout the duration of the poem. When people are mentally ill, it is almost as if they have died because they are not truly themselves anymore. In this way, I linked it to the fact that the speaker is talking through a vantage point of already having died. Also, at the end I interpreted Dickinson's abrupt ending as the person's realization of their illness. I think that they became aware of the fact that they were growing insane and then died afterwards from their affliction. Her last lines, "And then a Plank in Reason, broke, and I dropped down, and down... And Finished knowing" show that the speaker died knowing they had grown insane.
The interpretation that I personally feel best fits this poem is the idea that it is about a person having a mental breakdown or going insane. I think that many details support this idea, starting with the fact that the speaker is inside the box (or more appropriately, a casket) throughout the duration of the poem. When people are mentally ill, it is almost as if they have died because they are not truly themselves anymore. In this way, I linked it to the fact that the speaker is talking through a vantage point of already having died. Also, at the end I interpreted Dickinson's abrupt ending as the person's realization of their illness. I think that they became aware of the fact that they were growing insane and then died afterwards from their affliction. Her last lines, "And then a Plank in Reason, broke, and I dropped down, and down... And Finished knowing" show that the speaker died knowing they had grown insane.
Monday, September 6, 2010
Perrine's Poetry Perspective
As I read through Perrine's article for the first time, I was definitely intrigued by his thoughts. In "The Nature of Proof in the Interpretation of Poetry", he makes several bold statements that made me stop and think about how I analyze poetry myself. Quite honestly, I'm usually not very skilled at determining the meaning of poetry, and more often then not, I end up way off-target. I agree with Perrine's statement that "there are no correct or incorrect readings [of poetry]: there are only readings which differ more or less widely from a statistical norm." This makes sense, and I like how he emphasized that there is technically no "wrong" way to interpret a poem. As for his approach to determining "correct" interpretations, I would have to say that I agree with him. It is a logical method and I cannot think of another way which satisfies the process in a better form. According to Perrine, the meaning discerned must account for every detail in the poem and must also rely on the fewest assumptions made outside the text. If one were to figure out what the author originally meant to express in their poetry, then both of these circumstances would apply.
A concept that stuck with with me after reading this article was how a poet never likes to be asked to explain his own poems. Although I had never stopped to think about it before, that is an incredibly true statement. Whenever ones are asked about the meaning of their works, they find a way to avoid answering. This is because knowing the real purpose behind a poem can diminish its value afterward. In addition, the real meaning may come across as much less than what the poem said itself. Since this point has been brought to my attention, I can now see why they leave it for their readers to interpret alone. Another aspect I agreed with Perrine upon was his discussion of symbols. I liked how he stated that two symbols cannot mean just anything, they must represent something that specifically applies to the work at hand. Because a symbol is an increased area of meaning, it must stay within boundaries that apply to the poem being discussed. Every symbol must have a logical interpretation that falls within the limits of those boundaries.
From now on, I will keep Perrine's tactics in mind while analyzing poetry. Hopefully it will help me out a little!
A concept that stuck with with me after reading this article was how a poet never likes to be asked to explain his own poems. Although I had never stopped to think about it before, that is an incredibly true statement. Whenever ones are asked about the meaning of their works, they find a way to avoid answering. This is because knowing the real purpose behind a poem can diminish its value afterward. In addition, the real meaning may come across as much less than what the poem said itself. Since this point has been brought to my attention, I can now see why they leave it for their readers to interpret alone. Another aspect I agreed with Perrine upon was his discussion of symbols. I liked how he stated that two symbols cannot mean just anything, they must represent something that specifically applies to the work at hand. Because a symbol is an increased area of meaning, it must stay within boundaries that apply to the poem being discussed. Every symbol must have a logical interpretation that falls within the limits of those boundaries.
From now on, I will keep Perrine's tactics in mind while analyzing poetry. Hopefully it will help me out a little!
Friday, August 13, 2010
Theme
The theme of this book is a complex one. There are actually several of them, but the theme I focused on the most was the inability to control one's own life. Life is not fair, and oftentimes the people who deserve something the very least are the ones whom it happens to. Linda is a perfect example. I felt so much compassion and sadness for her as I read about her brain tumor. She seemed like the sweetest girl and never once did she complain about her sickness. Tim is still convinced to this day that they truly loved each other, and I suppose that may in fact be true. That being said, the theme only becomes more powerful that life is not fair. As a young and naive nine year old, Timmy lost the girl he loved before he even came to truly know her. It was a rude awakening to the hard realities of life, and in my opinion a tough way to be introduced to death. However, it is my belief that everything happens for a reason. Therefore there must have been a reason God allowed Linda to die. Maybe Tim had to experience this pain in order to be better prepared for Vietnam later on in his life. Also, in a way, it introduced him to what he loves to do . It gave him the ability to story-tell and bring people back to life through his words and dreams. As an adult, he turned these dreams to novels. We may never understand why things happen to us, but it not necessary for us to understand. That is the mystery of life; we are never fully prepared for what comes next.
"And then it becomes 1990. I'm forty-three years old, and a writer now, still dreaming Linda alive in exactly the same way. She's not the embodied Linda; she's mostly made up, with a new identity and a new name, like the man who never was. Her real name doesn't matter. She was nine years old. I loved her and then she died. And yet right here, in the spell of memory and imagination, I can still see her as if through ice, as if I'm gazing into some other world, a place where there are no brain tumors and no funeral homes, where there are no bodies at all." (page 232)
And lastly:
"I'm young and happy. I'll never die." (page 233)
As long as Tim O'Brien writes, he feels like his memory will never die. Since writing is what makes him so peaceful with his life, I'm glad that he has the opportunity to do it.
"And then it becomes 1990. I'm forty-three years old, and a writer now, still dreaming Linda alive in exactly the same way. She's not the embodied Linda; she's mostly made up, with a new identity and a new name, like the man who never was. Her real name doesn't matter. She was nine years old. I loved her and then she died. And yet right here, in the spell of memory and imagination, I can still see her as if through ice, as if I'm gazing into some other world, a place where there are no brain tumors and no funeral homes, where there are no bodies at all." (page 232)
And lastly:
"I'm young and happy. I'll never die." (page 233)
As long as Tim O'Brien writes, he feels like his memory will never die. Since writing is what makes him so peaceful with his life, I'm glad that he has the opportunity to do it.
Motivation
This chapter made me feel bad for what became of Rat Kiley. He always seemed like such a good guy, so reliable, brave, and a great friend on top of it all. What I remembered most about him was how levelheaded he had stayed after Tim got shot. He kept risking his own life to check on him and to make sure that he was okay. Nice qualities, right? It was for those reasons that made me sad to see he slightly lost his mind. By what he described to his men, it sounded like he was turning towards insanity. He had this obsession with bugs and kept describing how he could see the other soldiers' body parts. He could even imagine his own insides. With disconcerting visions like that, I can completely understand his motivation to injure himself so that he could escape for a little while. What he needed was medical attention, and I feel like he would not have gotten better if he hadn't inflicted that wound upon himself. I was happy that Lieutenant Cross was understanding and said that he would vouch for him that it had been an accident. I hope that in the end Riley was brought back to normal. It would be a shame to lose a good man like him.
"Anyway," Rat said, "the days aren't so bad, but at night the pictures get to be a bitch. I start seeing my own body. Chunks of myself. My own heart, my own kidneys. It's like - I don't know - it's like staring into this huge black crystal ball. One of these nights I'll be lying dead out there in the dark and nobody'll find me except the bugs - I can see it - I can see the goddamn bugs chewing tunnels through me - I can see mongooses munching on my bones. I swear, it's too much. I can't keep seeing myself dead." (page 212)
Gotta hand it to the guy, that sounds pretty nuts. I would have shot myself in the foot too.
"Anyway," Rat said, "the days aren't so bad, but at night the pictures get to be a bitch. I start seeing my own body. Chunks of myself. My own heart, my own kidneys. It's like - I don't know - it's like staring into this huge black crystal ball. One of these nights I'll be lying dead out there in the dark and nobody'll find me except the bugs - I can see it - I can see the goddamn bugs chewing tunnels through me - I can see mongooses munching on my bones. I swear, it's too much. I can't keep seeing myself dead." (page 212)
Gotta hand it to the guy, that sounds pretty nuts. I would have shot myself in the foot too.
Anthropomorphism
As I read this chapter, I found myself repeatedly wondering if Tim O'Brien had in fact been shot twice. Was that a true part of the story, or was that another made up aspect? The way he made it sound it appeared veritable, but then again that's what I thought about the first half of the book.
Anyway, I must be on a personification roll here because in this chapter anthropomorphism also caught my eye.
"[At night] Tiny sounds get heightened and distorted. The crickets talk in code; the night takes on an electric tingle." (page 195)
Clearly, crickets cannot literally talk in code. I thought it was a good comparison though. At times, when I listen to night life, I get the feeling that crickets are in fact communicating somehow. I'll hear one in the distance, and then soon after hear another one coming from a different direction. Weird, but true.
As for Tim's actions in this chapter, I can't say that I blame him really. Admittedly, he went a little overboard and was slightly crueler than I would have liked, but I can see why he felt resentment towards Jorgenson. After all, he endured lots of pain because of his careless mistakes and had to tolerate being made fun of by the other soldiers. No man likes to have his ego bruised.
Anyway, I must be on a personification roll here because in this chapter anthropomorphism also caught my eye.
"[At night] Tiny sounds get heightened and distorted. The crickets talk in code; the night takes on an electric tingle." (page 195)
Clearly, crickets cannot literally talk in code. I thought it was a good comparison though. At times, when I listen to night life, I get the feeling that crickets are in fact communicating somehow. I'll hear one in the distance, and then soon after hear another one coming from a different direction. Weird, but true.
As for Tim's actions in this chapter, I can't say that I blame him really. Admittedly, he went a little overboard and was slightly crueler than I would have liked, but I can see why he felt resentment towards Jorgenson. After all, he endured lots of pain because of his careless mistakes and had to tolerate being made fun of by the other soldiers. No man likes to have his ego bruised.
Personification
I can't decide how I feel about this chapter. On one hand I can understand why Tim would want to see the sites of Vietnam again, yet on the other hand I would never want to go back into that murky water again either. I guess it is sort of the same situation for a soldier in any war. After WWII, I know that sometimes people wished to go back and see the sites where they suffered throughout the war - whether that be a concentration camp, internment camp, fort... The places in his stories are the places he most remembers and that affected him most. They are more than mere pieces of land; they are what shaped him into the man he is today. When he looks at those familiar sites, he remembers experiences and the people he was with or the people he lost, not what the land looked like alone. In a weird way, it seemed fitting that he laid Kiowa's moccasins in the filthy water in the spot where he had died. It was like a token to his memory of sorts.
While reading Tim's description of the little field in Quang Ngai, a piece of personification stood out to me.
"This little field, I thought, had swallowed so much. My best friend. My pride. My belief in myself as a man of some small dignity and courage." (page 176)
I found it interesting that he held the land accountable for these feelings. It was as if he had left a piece of his former self there and was hoping to find it when he came back for a second time. Although I cannot say whether he succeeded or not, at least this visit was one of peace rather than one of violence.
While reading Tim's description of the little field in Quang Ngai, a piece of personification stood out to me.
"This little field, I thought, had swallowed so much. My best friend. My pride. My belief in myself as a man of some small dignity and courage." (page 176)
I found it interesting that he held the land accountable for these feelings. It was as if he had left a piece of his former self there and was hoping to find it when he came back for a second time. Although I cannot say whether he succeeded or not, at least this visit was one of peace rather than one of violence.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)