Applepicking or snowman with ice cream?

Which is Frost, and Which is Stevens?
If you read their poetry, you will know.

As the works of Robert Frost and Wallace Stevens were the assigned readings this week, it is a natural extension to compare the two writers styles, etc.

I enjoyed reading Frost. I did not enjoy Stevens. Frost combines words to paint a picture. For example, in The Wood-Pile, a bird is encountered. "He thought I was after him for a feather.....I forgot him and let his little fear carry him off..." Because of the language Frost uses, I understand a bird has entered the scene, the bird is characteristically cautious, and the study of the bird is dropped when something more interesting is found. If this bird is representing some deeper metaphor, I just might figure it out.

Stevens has birds in his work as well.

I was of three minds, Like a tree In which there are three blackbirds. The blackbird whirled in the autumn winds, It was a small part of the pantomine.

Exhausting. Must I read it again, and again, and again?

Are you not picking apples right along with Frost? Do your feet hurt, as mine do?
My instep arch not only keeps the ache, it keeps the pressure of a ladder-round
Anybody that has ever painted a house can relate.

He's gotten all bug-eyed from doing one thing for too long
And I could tell what form my dreaming was about to take, Magnified apples appear and disappear
Don't you hate that? Anyone who has performed a repeating task, hour after hour, knows this experience. Again, I say if there is a metaphor or some other writer's tool at work here, I have a shot at uncovering it. This is because Frost uses common language.

Here's Wallace:
Yet the absence of the imagination had Itself to be imagined. The great pond, The plain sense of it, as my mind wanders imagining that I can't imagine, I wonder if I have a new email, blah, blah.

I need some help here. I guess some may enjoy using some supplement to help them "understand" what they are reading. A five hundred word interpretation of a two hundred word poem (Spark Notes) is not my idea of good literature. Nor do I enjoy crosswords or Soduku except to kill time. Wallace Stevens is successfully killing my time.

Sure, I am a novice at literary analysis. I wish to remain that way. Here is why. The writer is the professional. I expect the writer to do all the heavy lifting. I realize others may get a rush when a flood of meaning comes forth as a result of successfully completing a mental dot-to-dot. To each his own.






Reading Wallace Stevens is like viewing a Kazimir Malevich,


Black Square, c. 1915










Whereas Frost can be better compared to viewing a Monet.

Woman in a Garden, 1867, Hermitage, St. Petersburg

Booker T: Hear No Evil, See No Evil, Speak No Evil

Booker T Waswhington offers a logical and practical recipe concerning the institution of slavery. He also offers advice for blacks and whites alike in its aftermath. His advice is based in the hypothesis that humans are inherently good. Over time, what is morally right will match what is economically right. I think time has proven him wrong, yet I sincerely admire his resolve that mankind is defined as kind men.

He sets the stage in Up from Slavery by issuing a free pass to those whom benefited by slavery. Of his white father, he declares he knows nothing. Yet, he describes him as "another unfortunate victim of the institution..." What do you think? Is that an appropriate description of a deadbeat? Oh, poor victim!

More free passes are issued as Booker T. describes slavery as something that generated its own force: "I pity from the bottom of my heart any ....people that [are] so unfortunate to get entangled in the net of slavery.......[h]aving once got its tentacles fastened".

Slavery (slav-er-y)

noun

1) An uncontrollable monster with tentacles, for which nobody is responsible, adversely affecting all without prejudice

2) Conditions involving control of a person against his/her will enforced by violence and/or other clear forms of coercion.

Shall we take a poll?

I understand Booker T. had to address slavery in order to set the stage, but did he need to go so far as to describe the benefits the black man enjoyed as a result of slavery? "Negroes....who went through the school of American slavery are in a stronger, more hopeful condition [than other blacks]." Similarly, victims of cancer are now better educated on nutrition. This is a fact, but is it not insignificant? God's hand at work? "Providence so often uses....institutions (like slavery?) to accomplish a purpose."

Walking a tightwire in a naive attempt to have his readers forget about the past and consider the future, Booker T. sums up his thoughts nicely in the Atlanta Exposition Address: "[We should not] permit our grievences to overshadow our opportunities". Not such a jagged pill. That's all he really needed to say.

Booker T. goes on to make the argument that, given time, society will make the right choices regarding race relations, as equality is in the best interest of all, even the more powerful. "There is no defence or security for any of us except in the highest intelligence and development of all", The efforts of powerful Southerners to advance the Negro cause "will pay a thousand percent interest". Powerful Southerners can't help but have their ears perk up at the sound of high interest.

This advancement cannot be forced by law, says Booker. "Progress.....must be the result of severe and constant struggle rather than of artificial forcing". Again, Booker T. shows too much faith in man's intelligence. Reality is depicted in the photo to the left, taken 63 years after the Atlanta Exposition Address. Fast-forward Booker T. to 1958. Does he still believe in a "willing obedience among all classes to the mandates of law"?

Perhaps Booker T. should have prefaced his Up from Slavery with, what instead, were his closing remarks of Chapter XIV. It is there that Booker T. proposes an intelligence test as voting criteria. If you are too stupid to realize that racism is destructive to all, then you don't get to vote. Now, if this were his opening, then it would be easier for the reader to accept his perspective as something intelligent rather than a hopeful fairy-tale. If the voting booths were so protected, the outcome may very well have been that Black culture was expeditiously assimilated and/or accepted by mainstream Southern white society. Now, however, what to do with all the idiots who have no political power and find themselves in a vicious cycle of poverty and oppression. From that world comes the famous quote, "I have a dream that my four little children will one day live in a nation where they will not be judged by the quality of their dental work, but by the content of their character". Racism replaced by class warfare.

Charlot: An Imagined Rebuttal

Perhaps the fictitious perspective I offer below actually existed. I do not know. Governments (people) will attempt to justify their actions, no matter how autrocious. Do I feel the Indians were wronged? Of course. But it may be a fact that I owe my existence to history taking such a course. How can I argue, with any sincerity, that it never should have happened, and consequently that I should not be here in Boise today?

To: Editor of the Missoula Missoulian
Re: Indian Taxation and the Charlot decry

Dear Editor,
Since when does whining about taxes deserve front page headlines? The whole Indian bawling routine has become so overplayed; Certainly you must recognize you owe more to your readers, like taking a look at the Indian taxation issue from a more objective angle. That is what I offer to you, my fellow townspeople, and also my Flathead Indian brothers under one God:

Charlot speaks of an amicable relationship between his ancestors and mine: "Since our forefathers first beheld him, more than seven times ten winters have snowed and melted". He wants his readers to buy that because of this history, the whiteman has somehow committed an immoral act by changing his feathers as changing times demanded. Does Charlot think the same of the North Chinese over the southerns, the Europeans over the Africans, the Spanish over the Aztecs, and on and on and on? Shall we just cease to advance and evolve as a species? I need not illustrate this point: It is both ridiculous and fantastic.

Charlot continues on to cast judgment and suggests the white race should be ashamed of its technology: "....and he stamps them with false ones; yet he is not ashamed.....his course is destruction; he spoils what the Spirit...gave us". Today, technology offers us prosthetic teeth, yesterday it was the printing press, which it seems Charlot "shamelessly" is hereby utilizing to advance his own selfish cause! (For his wise use of tools and technology, I stand up and applaud the man, but is it his reality that he can pick and choose which advancements are good or bad?) . Granted, the road to the future (and technology) is sometimes dark and cold-hearted, casualties abound, but it must be taken. Man, as a species, has never had any choice in this matter. Thousands of history books all come to the same conclusion: the future always arrives -- and with change in tow. This present stretch of road is taxed, so either rewrite history, get off the road, or pay up!

Charlot declares that if Jesus had not died for our sins, the Indians would be better off now. "Were all of them dead then when that young man died, we would be all safe now". The arrogance and self-righteousness associated with this statement is simply stunning. I do not profess a great faith in Jesus, but if He did die for my sins, then I know He died for Charlot's as well. Charlot seems to think that he is of a different mold, a more just, friendly, and charitable God. Charlot is free in this great country of ours to practice whatever religion he chooses. Further, he is free to cast literary stones at my Christ, but for that right he needs to pay his taxes, just as I do mine.

Perhaps my children 150 years henceforth will bawl hysterically for the unfortunate plight of your tribe, Charlot. I will not. My cup of coffee that has gone cold while reading of your truly hopeless cause is all I wish to spare. I, too, have reasons that I should not have to pay taxes. As does the shopkeeper. As does the soldier. As does the pastor. I will grant you that you are indeed a victim of unfortunate circumstance, but that circumstance is as inevitable as, you guessed it, death and taxes.

Postscript: Would the Indians, as a race, be better off today if they had been enslaved in the early 1800's, and consequently freed as a result of the Civil War? I know it is a dark path to consider, but are not American Indians more impoverished than African Americans, statistically speaking? From this, one could draw the conclusion that the autrocities suffered by the American Indian were more impaling and lasting than slavery. Two black eyes.

Letter From Me

Twain begins his "Letters" series with a passage entitled "Letters from the Earth". He uses this opening passage to develop the character he uses as an author/narrator of subsequent passages. The character's name is Satan. What the reader learns about Satan is that he is courageous, actively seeks to satisfy his intellectual curiosity, and amuses himself by exercising sarcasm. My guess is that Twain would describe himself, Samuel Langhome Clemens, as having similar characteristics.

The subject matter of later "letters" is also developed in this opening letter; That is, the creation of the universe, Man, and all earthly creatures and life forms as set forth by traditional Christian teachings and the Bible. Simply put, Twain illustrates the impracticality and large contradiction of the Christian faith from Satan's point of view--Satan being an intellectually curious and sarcastic author. The reader may find it amusing that Satan is himself a product of a universe that he is judging to be a far-fetched fairy tale. (A paradox, or has Twain employed irony?)

Clearly, Twain feels that the teachings of the Christian religion fail his test of logic. He beats this drum, over and over again. He cites what he believes to be conflicts or impossibilities in the story of man as set forth in the Bible. Beyond discounting the Bible, Twain further abashes the intellect of Man for worshipping under the pretense of such hypocrisy.

It is indeed feeble for Man to try and give exact explanation to the origin of this beautifully complex universe. In the passages by Twain that I have read thus far, I do not see his explanation for 200 billion+ galaxies or the flight of the bumble bee (which is, reportedly, a physical impossibility). Nor does he give any reflection on the known size of the universe being 1,000,000,000,000,000,000,000,000 miles across--that is a million million million million miles. Perhaps in Twain's day not as much was known, yet J.B.S. Haldane declared in the time shortly following Twain's death, "the universe is not only queerer than we suppose, it is queerer than we can suppose".

It is too queer for Twain, so he does not suppose. He offers no alternative explanations, just criticism. Further, he fails to recognize that it is not the sole purpose of religion to correctly and accurately explain the nature and origin of things. Rather, the Christian religion makes an attempt to explain what is queerer than one can suppose. In so doing, it offers a creed or prescription for stability in mind. Without a creed to live by, without a stable mind, Man cannot be free to ponder and further develop the arts and sciences. No, he would be stuck at square one: Where did I come from? What am I doing here? What happens to me after I die?

Man truly would be insane without religion, just as Twain declares Man is insane for having religion. The fact is, Twain owes his success to religion. For without it, Man would be too busy creating it to enjoy the works of Samuel Langhome Clemens. How's that for irony?

Myself means me, not you too.

Did you read Whitman and still feel you are just one of millions of stand alone lifeforms? Or perhaps his poetry inspired you to feel the lifehumm from the universe coursing through your veins.
So I finished my initial reading of Song of Myself and headed to the Y to pick up my kid. Along the way, I contemplate my relationship with the trees on Harrison Blvd. Walt broadcasts I am the tree, as he is, too. To me, this is actually a sensible argument, from the standpoint of manure, ecosystems, and, to quote The Lion King, "The Circle of Life". My ability to accept and comprehend this idea is confined to this Earth, however. Where Walt says his argument stands as true on the moons of Jupiter and beyond, my spaceship is pretty much stuck in Boise.

Now, as I continue my afternoon errand, I stop to pick up my son at the Y. I make a conscious decision, as an exercise and tribute to Mr. Whitman, to try and feel what my son feels as I ask him about his day. Boom! Indeed! There is an interconnection among us all! Yes, his atoms are my atoms, etc. This unexpected transcendental experience results in a spontaneous grin and chuckle. At this, my son's expression is quizzical as he asks me "what's up?" Obviously, he is not a student of Whitman's work.

Ah, but this is my son -- truly my flesh and blood. I am so familar with him. I love him unconditionally. I should make a habit of connecting with him on this level. It brings me such joy. I determine that I owe the experience to biology and fatherhood, of course, and not to confirmation of the existence of Walt's universe. I just couldn't get the same rise with the trees on Harrison, nor their squirrels.

To my knowledge, Walt did not procreate. No children. This seems to me an enormous contradiction, him being large and containing multitudes notwithstanding.

Although I am not a subscriber to Mr. Whitman's philosophy, I rather did enjoy reading his work; Much like I enjoy great music I am hearing for the first time.

Crossing Brooklyn Ferry

I have read through "Crossing Brooklyn Ferry", jotting some notes in the margin, then came immediately to this post upon completion of the reading. My intention is to create a record of my thoughts prior to any influence from others with more experience in such matters.

As the poem opens, Walt seems to be expressing a fascination with the fact that he is but one of millions of humans, past and present. Instead of his thoughts making him feel small and insignificant, he somehow feels connected and purposeful. As the poem progresses, Walt describes the sheer enormity of human activity, as well as the boundless features of his (and our) environment.

Next, Walt sets out to convince the reader, no matter how distant in time or space, that a connection exists with him. He does this by giving general descriptions of personal thoughts we all have, yet we rarely discuss in public. In a sense, he is employing the use of a password. Immediately following his establishing the connection between himself and the reader, he seems to give a confession of sorts, that he does not always live the life he would like to. I interpret from his passage that he is gay, but not openly. This admission seems out of place and unnecessary until the reader progresses to the next passage, in which Walt states, "Closer yet I approach you". This made me think that he was telling me something intimate in order to further build this cosmic relationship he has with me.

By the way, I refer to the author as "Walt", as opposed to Mr. Whitman. I feel comfortable with this because Walt and I are buddies.

I will now follow-up by reading some more professional analyses and other evaluations of this piece of work. I expect to be schooled on the matter. I do not profess to have any gift or education in the area of literary analysis, but perhaps this class can change that.

Okay, I am back after reading Spark Notes. I won't spoil it for you, in case you want to do your own research. Let me say that I am not as intimate with Walt as I may have thought, but I still believe that the two of us are chummy enough that I can still call him "Walt".

There were a couple of significant points that, although I did take note of them in my initial reading, I failed to realize their significance. This was due to my own selfishness. I was more entertained by what Walt thought of me than I was by Walt's own curiosities.

Anyway, I feel pretty good about my initial stab at analysis. However, I do realize that Walt is not as cryptic or as heavy on symbolism as other authors to be studied may be.

Poem

I have never before written a poem
What is the criteria? Can I just go home?

The Boss says it's okay if it blows
That's good; My lack of talent really shows