Not The Bell Jar

"The Colossus" - Sylvia Plath

Skipping automatically over the title, as per usual, I read this poem with significant confusion. The apostrophe, "O father," in the fourth stanza originally led me to believe it was perhaps a poem being addressed to a father who had left. The poem seems to have sort of an angry, accusatory tone with undertones of bitter vulnerability, and that seemed to support my initial thought process. So did the last two lines:

"No longer do I listen for the scrape of a keel

On the blank stones of the landing."

I thought that was indicative of the speaker's having given up on awaiting the father's return.

But then I read the title and decided it was probably about the Colossus of Rhodes. I have no idea why she feels so angsty about this statue. I guess I might be annoyed if I labored thirty years on the same ginormous statue and felt it to be no benefit to me. But I don't know how she can complain about sounds it makes. She must be losing it up there in the guy's ear/cornucopia.

... but shouldn't "nazi" be capitalized?

"Oh! stars and clouds and winds, ye are all about to mock me: if ye really pity me, crush sensation and memory; let me become as nought; but if not, depart, depart, and leave me in darkness." - p. 107

I have lots to say about that sentence. Primarily, I can't decide if the talking to the stars and clouds and winds is more personification or an apostrophe or both. Also, I don't like the loosey-goosey grammar rules of the seventeen hundreds that made it okay not to capitalize the words after the interjections. Also also, I am not sure about the colon usage; I feel like they should really both just be semi-colons. (SeewhatIdidthere?!) I guess I can't talk, though, having just written an essay with an incomplete sentence as the first word of the introduction. (I never ever DO that! I just don't. I am thoroughly embarrassed.)

In any case, it's personification because Victor's telling the stars and clouds and winds that they're going to be mocking him any second now, which is simply not normal atmospheric behavior. It still seems kind of like an apostrophe or an invocation, though, because the stars and clouds and winds can't hear his aimless chattering.

Siriusly (<--Sorry.)

This poem had lots of figurative language, so I'm going to begin by listing and explaining thoooose to get them out of the way.

"No--yet still steadfast, still unchangeable," is an example of consonance because of the repetition of the "st-" sound. I have trouble deducing what the express purpose of such language is. I mean... it sounds nice. It's poetry. Ergo, it happens. Am I missing something?

The poem itself is an apostrophe with direct address to the bright star from whence the title originates. It seems to me as though the speaker is trying to rid himself of the burden of his cumbersome thoughts, and since he doesn't want to be talking to himself, he directs his words toward an object which can't judge him. Because of this focal point, however, his poem takes the direction that it does--comparing his own situation to the situation of the star.

Also, "sweet unrest" is evidently a noteworthy oxymoron. I took it to mean that it was sweet because the moment with the two lovebirds is sweet, but the speaker holds a sense of unrest in the idea that someday, it will inevitably end.

This provides a segue into the poem's conclusion, which is full of all kinds of frantic clinging loviness.

The things about the star that the speaker admires are its steadfast and patient nature, and he hopes to steer clear of the star's loneliness and sleeplessness.

*FUN Fact* Sirius, AKA "The Dog Star," is the brightest star in the night sky and part of the constellation Canis Major.

Lawlz....

This poem made me uncomfortable... mostly because I have a cat, and I can relate a liiiittle too well. Actually, I felt like I related a little to well to most of this poem, which makes me uncomfortable because everybody else was like, "Weirdest. Poem. Ever." Peeeeeer preessurrrre!

But who hasn't wanted to stay in bed all day rather than get up in the morning? And who hasn't, upon fighting that first impulse, lazed idly about and eaten random stuff in a pique of self-destruction as they dwelled on the horror that is February? (Well, when you put it that way....)

Then there's the apostrophic moment with the indifferent cat. The speaker wants her cat to get off its pink bumhole and procreate. It's like she thinks of her cat as "one of the lucky ones," almost. I just got that vibe. I didn't see it so much as the speaker's telling herself to hop to it, although that's certainly a possibility. I felt like she was saying, "Cat, I find your behavior annoying as all get-out, but you might as well get on with it. I mean, maybe you can reel in the spring a little faster."

Chapter Fourteen (is really short.)

If I'm to talk about literary devices, a lot of stretching is going to have to happen. For instance, "To hell with women, anyway. To hell with you, Brett Ashley," could be, aside from misogynistic, an apostrophe. Brett isn't there; Jake is just expressing his frustration with her to his audience.

More schadenfreude occurs, as well, which isn't something this class is studying, but it's an important quality in Hemingway's characterization process, I believe. "I liked to see him hurt Cohn. I wished he would not do it, though, because afterward it made me disgusted at myself." This set of emotions is even more complex than just the schadenfreude on its own. Instead of creating the reaction "This character is evil," it makes the reader somewhat more sympathetic.

I also found it interesting that Brett wants, on page 154, to listen to Jake's confession. Nobody wants someone else listening in on their confession! That's the point; the confession is the first part of the penance. I made that up, but it seems right; the confession itself is often harder than the penance, in any case.