Eigentlich Nicht: Second Thoughts

Here are some things I learned in class discussion.

Sylvia Plath - The Colossus

I should've just skipped the title. I was closer the first time.

Anyway, the consensus reached seemed to be that the poem was probably written about Plath's frustrations as a female writer and with her husband Ted Hughes, whom she viewed as sort of a father figure with whom she had an unhappy marriage. Hughes was the British poet laureate, and the theme of Greek antiquity throughout the poem seems to have been utilized to indicate Plath's feeling that there was no way for her to escape male dominance in the poetry hierarchy.

The poem is an allegory. The "mule-bray, pig-grunt and bawdy cackles" probably point toward Hughes' poetry, which often dealt with animal sounds. She writes to convey her years of laboring to make herself known. She cleans the ruins of The Colossus of Rhodes to see if it has anything to say, but she is only an ant, and her efforts are fruitless.

The enjambment, which emerges only in the latter stanzas of the poem, imitates the unending debris of this monument.

Though we discussed that the "red stars and those of plumb-color" act as a symbol often ignored by analysts of the work, we spoke about the association of the colors with pain, and I proposed that stars turn red as they die. Also, I am realizing as I type this, she says she is "counting" them, which makes a lot of sense with the theme of fruitless labor.

No one can count the stars.

Robert Lowell - Epilogue

I was more on track with this one, though I missed some things. I think I was projecting a little bit.

The poem was less about seeking inspiration and fearing being too realistic and more about the constraints of writing in general. He perceives poetry to be an art dealing with recollection, which consequently relies on fact and is paralyzed by this. He expresses a certain self-consciousness about the shortcomings of his writings, but then he goes on with this:

"Pray for the grace of accuracy

Vermeer gave to the sun's illumination

stealing like the tide across a map

to his girl solid with yearning."

assonance

alliteration/consonance

more assonance

What he wants is to bring his poetry to life--to give it a certain timelessness--and he envies Vermeer's ability to do so.

Misfits

"It was the Helmholtz of daily life who forgot and forgave, not the Helmholtz of a half-gramme holiday." - p. 180

I picked that quote initially because it sounded really, really nice. Then, when I was writing it, I realized that it sounded nice because of the consonance, mostly. Helmholtz half-gramme holiday. The niceness of that quote fits well with this chapter that so emphasizes the impact of language, which Helmholtz and John mutually appreciate. I thought Bernard was a fan of it as well, but he seems to have grown rather bitter. I can understand that, I guess. It's not a shining personality trait to get jealous like that; envying the friendship of two people you've brought together is certainly not going to make them like you more. I'm not supposed to use "you" like that.

Helmholtz's reaction to Romeo and Juliet was a bit disappointing but altogether to be expected, really. The three of them--Helmholtz, Bernard and John-- they've been drawn together through the mutual characteristic of being misfits. They're not that much alike, but who else have they got? Aaaand because I can:

Hagrid: I remember when I first met you all. Biggest bunch of misfits I ever set eyes on!

You reminded me of myself a little. And here we all are, four years later.

Ron: We're still a bunch of misfits.

Hagrid: Well, maybe. But you've all got each other. And Harry, o'course, soon to be the

YOUNGEST TRI-WIZARD CHAMPION THERE'S EVER BEEEEN! HOORAY!

-Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire

I slit the sheet, the sheet I slit, and on the slitted sheet I sit.

"Your affectionate and afflicted father,

Alphonse Frankenstein

Geneva, May 12th, 17--"

- p. 47

It rather annoys me to think that anyone would deliberately place such massive quantities of alliteration/assonance/consonance/what-have-you in a letter closing. Just... who... does that? Yes, yes, very impressive, Mr. Frankenstein. I'm sure your son is very impressed with your skills.

I assume that his purpose was not to annoy me, and I think that's a pretty safe assumption, as he is fictional, and also he is the brainchild of a lady who lived a long time ago who never had any reason to suspect I would exist. In poetry, I suppose it sounds nice, but in a letter closing, it just makes my reading brain-voice feel scared and confused, like my reading voice-voice would have stumbled there, and my brain-voice lucked out.

"People reading tongue twisters silently actually take longer to read tongue twisters than non-tongue-twisting sentences." - Hank Green

So was Shelley just trying to make me take my time? I doubt that she put that much thought into it, really. She was busy coming up with "a" and "f" sounds to put really close together.

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.

Those wishy-washy in-between terms

The epistrophe is one of those terms that I never imagine myself identifying without first having it pointed out to me. However....

"Ought not to daunt you. Never be daunted. Secret of my success. Never been daunted. Never been daunted in public."

It's confusing, though, because they aren't totally consecutive, and they're not all exactly at the end of the sentence. I also think it's more an example of Hemingway's indirect characterization through a unique syntactical style for each character. Bill has a rather infuriating aversion to complete sentences, and he repeats himself. I don't know what he means by this. Maybe I'm supposed to glean from that that Bill doesn't believe anyone listens to him the first time around, and it's some sort of obnoxious defense mechanism.

Anyway, I spotted a bit of consonance on page 84. "I'm frightfully fit." I think the consonance there sort of lightens the tone of the statement. Mike's sort of trying to avoid sounding too egotistical. If he had said "I am quite fit," he'd have sounded more pompous, in my opinion. Personally, I still wouldn't have said it at all, but I digress.

Oh, yes! Bill also repeats the phrase "wonderful nigger" and "splendid nigger." To use such an offensive term and couple it with a flattering adjective is oxymoronic. Maybe at the time, it wasn't, because at the time, I believe the word was still widely in circulation.

Also, I haven't the faintest idea what being "pie-eyed" means. Maybe it has something to do with being gluttonous. In any case, that must be part of the vernacular.