Four Quartets and the Bible

T.S. Eliot’s “Four Quartets” is truly a masterpiece. After reading “The Waste Land”, I was sure that it was his most intricate, finest work. I was wrong. “Four Quartets” is the densest reading that I have ever encountered. While that could be the result of a plethora of reading at semester’s end, I would compare this to any of Shakespeare’s great works as far as intricately laced significance goes. The rhythm and language of the poem present endless opportunities for deconstruction of meaning.

It was while reading Brooks’ article, “‘Four Quartets’: The Structure in Relation to the Themes”, that I came across a term that sparked my light bulb. While reading each of the quartets, I tried to go into them with an open mind. However, I could not escape the religious undertones that I felt throughout each section, such as ideas of a garden, pools, etc. Brooks’ theory of structure with the divisions of a)vision, b)negation, c)acceptance, d)transformation, e)communion with divine reality, and f) integration were certainly true from my reading of the poem. It was the specific word “reconciliation” within his article that solidified some of my own theories.

When I first started reading “Burnt Norton”, I had visions of Eden and a descent into Hell similar to Dante’s Inferno. Then in “East Coker”, the line “In my beginning is my end” is where I began my search for the Biblical excerpts that Eliot weaved into his poem. So I found a few passages that I thought were integral to Eliot’s work, if not his specific work, then to the overarching themes that Brooks presents. I first found from Revelations 21:6, “I (am) the Alpha and the Omega, the beginning and the end.” Eliot’s repeated emphasis on the beginning and the end is an obvious reference here. Another passage, from 2 Corinthians 4:6, “For God who said, ‘Let light shine out of darkness,’ has shone in our hearts to bring to light the knowledge of the glory of God on the face of Christ.” I think that this passage directly correlates to movement III of “East Coker”. Eliot also incorporates images of “light” and “dark”, with his ultimate message in support of Christianity and the mystery of God’s grace. I think Eliot’s notions of binaries that are seen in “Four Quartets” may have been pulled from 2 Corinthians 4:16-18,

Therefore we are not discouraged; rather, although our outer self is wasting away, our inner self is being renewed day by day. For this momentary light affliction is producing for us an eternal weight of glory beyond all comparison, as we look not to what is seen but to what is unseen, for what is seen is transitory, but what is unseen is eternal.

“Our outer self is wasting away, our inner self is being renewed day by day” may be Eliot’s overall theme for the poem. Despite the mortal lifetime of our physical bodies, through belief in God and Christian teachings, our souls can be immortalized. Yet, while we endure this journey of faith, there are times of darkness (literally and figuratively) and it is the light of God that will save us. I think that this idea can be further seen in 2 Corinthians 5:17-19,

So whoever is in Christ is a new creation; the old things have passed away; behold, new things have come. And all this is from God, who has reconciled us to himself through Christ and given us the ministry of reconciliation, namely. God was reconciling the world to himself in Christ, not counting their trespasses against them and entrusting to us the message of reconciliation.

In my research for these passages, I first started looking for funeral liturgies. While reading the poem, I could not resist the temptation to consider this a funeral rite of sorts. The modern writer’s interest in anthropology and ritual could not be overlooked. Perhaps this is Eliot’s own liturgy as he himself has come full circle from being faithless to faithful.

Modernist Politics

Perhaps it’s highly in part of my lack of knowledge of politics, but this week’s blog is extremely difficult to write. Aside from a consciousness of general world history at the time, I had and probably still have no idea what all the political factions of the time were. With that said, much of the readings were a complete blur except for the understanding of the Modernists extreme interest in politics. The most accessible reading was the chapter in the Cambridge Companion to Modernism. It provided a simple basis for the lay-politician/historian. Building from T.E. Hulme’s “Romanticism and Classicism”, something I was finally familiar with, Sara Blair discusses Ezra Pound and T.S. Eliot’s intense political forces. I had no idea that Ezra Pound was so political. While I am intrigued by his passion, I was sorely disappointed by many of his anti-Semitic and Fascist viewpoints. What repercussions, if any, did this have within the Bloomsbury group and other Modernists of the time? I have a hard time believing that these ideals were upheld by many of these highly-educated, intelligent people, so where is the discordance within the group? Leonard Woolf was of Jewish descent himself, so did that cause issues within the group? Thankfully, Blair incorporates the Modernist movement within America as well, exposing us to other aspects of politics and aesthetics – movements not based upon hate, but rather on freedom, such as the women’s and African-American movements.

As for Leonard’s standpoint on preserving peace, I found that to be much less offending. While I am not quite sure that world peace can ever be attained, I think Leonard’s propositions for it were extremely noble. He and Virginia appear to have been quite a team in their political notoriety, but is there the possibility that Virginia may have overshadowed him slightly with the coming of women’s suffrage and such? Instead of Leonard’s work being praised for its ingenuity, is it possible that it may have been seen as oppressive? And while Leonard and Virginia worked together for their political causes, didn’t Virginia also have problems with Jews? That would make their relationship a rather conundrum – working together for one cause, yet at odds with another.

I also think it is interesting that many of the Bloomsbury group would be Marxists, socialists, or essentially in favor of the labor party. From what I have gathered from class and readings, many, if not all, of the group was particularly well off. What advantage would there be for them in supporting such causes?

Personally, I really enjoyed E.M. Forster’s “What I Believe”. I think the creed that he develops on his own is something that we could all live by. Right off the bat, his work is not pushy. The reader does not feel overwhelmed with his politics, as if they are being shoved down one’s throat. Forster’s respect for classical thought appears to be a great influence to him, specifically Dante. Unlike many other Bloomsbury members, Forster is in support of democracy because of the importance it places on the individual, although he is careful not to be too overzealous in his belief, offering only “two cheers for democracy”. I thought that this piece really gave insight to Forster’s work, especially Howard’s End. His main focus in the novel is the relationships between different people as well as the individual. Finally, I can see the politics in the aesthetics, whereas with Leonard’s work I have no aesthetics to work with other than he is Mr. Virginia Woolf.

Women and Fiction

Opening the pages of Virginia Woolf’s A Room of One’s Own, I suppose I was expecting another one of her novels. Instead, I was faced with a manifesto of sorts – a “story” of the relationship of women and fiction through the eyes of Virginia Woolf and I was not entirely sure what to make of it. I enjoyed the fact that as I was reading, I was able to imagine her in the lecture hall amidst collegiate women of the time, carrying on as a sort of Betty Friedan. Perhaps this story was Virginia Woolf’s version of The Feminine Mystique and now, going back and really considering the issues that Friedan addressed in her book, I can remove the “perhaps” from the beginning of this sentence. While encouraging women to become successful on their terms, Woolf realized the pitfalls of such dreams, most significantly domestic life. She realized that with the position of women being altered, other aspects of “normal” daily life would be forced to change as well. With these realizations at hand, Woolf pushes on in order to come to some sort of declaration about women and fiction to her female attendees. In her attempt to come across answers, she finds out more and more about women writers. Woolf explores the female literary tradition, not only from the masculine, patriarchal viewpoint, but also from within the strongholds of the feminine literary scope as well. Instead of being locked within the confines of the novel, Woolf sees change in the future for women, specifically with experimental writing. It seems that through education and the arduous process of time passing, the stylistic components of female literary works will progress. Her eventual floundering at the end of the essay(?) put me in a state of unrest or at least confusion. Woolf spends over one hundred pages presenting an argument about female oppression and in the end, the artist can not focus on the matter. While I realize her point, it somehow fell short for me. I guess I just expected…well, more.

Moving on to Jane Marcus’s article, I really did not buy it at first. Marcus’s argument that Woolf’s writing was an attack on all the men in her life seemed really far-fetched for me and much too psychoanalytic. Once that was dismissed, I rather enjoyed aspects of Marcus’s article. Her description of where Virginia’s lectures took place was very interesting and something that is intangible in Room alone. I imagined being there with her speaking, but what I imagined and what Marcus described were entirely different. Marcus’s article also made me consider the relationships between women more fully. The relationship, seduction, or interactions even, are much more verbal than physical. The courtship begins through language and is subversive in nature and in reading Room, I am not sure that I grasped that concept initially. Considering the nature of relationships between men and women, it is not at all surprising that women would develop a more fruitful, emotional relationship with other women. My doubts, however, lie within the fact that Marcus seems to make all who attended the lectures to be wholly homosexual. While I am sure that there were some attendees who engaged in homosexual or bisexual behavior, I do not think that everyone participated.

Mrs. Dalloway

After reading Mrs. Dalloway, The Waste Land and Steinberg’s Mrs. Dalloway and T.S. Eliot’s Personal Waste Land, I have really gained an appreciation for each of their works. Steinberg’s inclusion of Virginia Woolf’s diary entries as she wrote what would eventually become Mrs. Dalloway was a great view into her mind. The reasons that I think Mrs. Dalloway is so great (social criticism, the whole workings of sanity versus insanity) is actually what Woolf was consciously trying to convey. The difficulty of writing Septimus’s part had to be extremely difficult for Virginia, as she said, but I wonder if she was basing his insanity on someone she knew or maybe even herself and her own personal demons.

While reading Mrs. Dalloway, I thought that Clarissa and Septimus were foils for one another and after seeing how the relationship progressed between Eliot and Woolf at this time, I would say that it is definite that Woolf used their interactions in the development of her characters. It is hard to believe the correlation between the Eliot and Septimus. From their occupations to their marriages, their lives mimic each other completely. I wonder how Eliot’s estate feels about this glimpse into Eliot’s inner self. Lucrezia’s character is remniscient of Vivienne and just as Woolf did not care for her, that dislike is felt in the story itself. Lucrezia, to me, seems selfish and distant in the novel. While she does love Septimus, she is more concerned with herself and what is happening to her than Septimus’s condition. I actually feel stupid for not seeing all the similarities earlier between the players involved.

Steinberg’s claim that The Waste Land is written for Jean Verdenal seems warranted. An idea I had not thought of previously is that of the hyacinth girl. As we discussed in class, Hyacinth was a man and he was associated with homosexuality. In Eliot’s description of his memory of his friend in Luxembourg Gardens, waving a lilac, I saw Hyacinth. For Eliot, Jean Verdenal was his Hyacinth.

I thought Woolf’s comment that Mrs. Dalloway originally was to kill herself or die at the end of the party was quite interesting. Would the story have the same effect if that end did come to fruition or is it important that Clarissa did not commit suicide? I think the use of Septimus as a foil and his eventual demise allows Clarissa to accept her position in her society. I think Clarissa envies Septimus’s ability to be in control of his life, or in this case death. Steinberg’s idea that Mrs. Dalloway can follow the heroic tale is something that I did not think about, even after our class discussion last week. Steinberg’s claim appears to be very solid, but I think I will need to reread and map out the rest of the story with the corresponding parts of the heroic tale.

I thoroughly enjoyed Steinberg’s arguments regarding the correlation between Septimus and Eliot, as well as the influence of the Eliot-Woolf relationship on Mrs. Dalloway. I would, however, liked to have seen where Virginia herself comes into the characters of Mrs. Dalloway. I know she was overly concerned over writing about herself, but where can glimpses of her own life be seen in the novel. I would hate to think that the entire novel was an exposé on the life of T.S. Eliot.

Eliot's "The Waste Land"

After reading The Waste Land, I immediately noticed the ritualistic nature of the poem and Eliot’s play with life and death. It brought me to some of Frazer’s ideas from The Golden Bough and the other theories of the Cambridge Ritualists (but I will discuss that further on Wednesday). As with Eliot’s previous poems, the use of a wide variety of intellectual property is at Eliot’s beck and call. He uses the words of Dante, Baudelaire, the Bible, and so on. A first that I have seen with Eliot, he uses the device of Virginia Woolf and plays with stream of consciousness in the first section of The Waste Land. It was in “The Burial of the Dead” that I had a rather strange idea.

In line 13, Eliot writes, “And when we were children, staying at the arch-duke’s,/My cousin’s, he took me out on a sled,/And I was frightened. He said, Marie,/Marie, hold on tight. And down we went.” Is the narrator not inferring that her name is Marie? Again, in “The Game of Chess” I thought that it was two women quarrelling with one another, rather than a man and a woman. In “The Fire Sermon”, Mr. Eugenides asks the narrator to lunch and to a weekend at the Metropole, insinuating a possible act of prostitution. Finally, in “What the Thunder Said”, I think considering the act of crucifixion that is occurring, it is possible to see the narrator as a Mary-Magdalene-type figure. I may be way off in making these parallels, however, I also thought that Eliot used this device in Preludes. In Preludes, I thought that the narrator shifted from man to prostitute in the final stanza of the poem, in turn making the prostitute the one who wipes her mouth in the end. I realize that Brooks argues it is homosexuality in his analysis, but if that is the case, perhaps cross-dressing is a possibility within the poem as well. I am unsure if any of this is at all viable criticism, given all of Eliot’s own notes, but it is one that I can no longer ignore as a reader.

In reading Brooks’s article, we came upon the same idea that Eliot was trying to convey; “all wars are one war; all experience, one experience” (191). However, where Brooks witnessed this idea in Eliot’s reference to the war, I did not see the full connection until “What the Thunder Said” in lines 373-377. Eliot’s repetition of cities, “Jerusalem Athens Alexandria/Vienna London” followed by “Unreal” on a single line, for me, blended these cities into Dante’s Limb - all of those cities, renowned for different wars, victories, religions, and cultures become one. There is a similar experience that E.M. Forster writes about in A Passage to India with Mrs. Moore in the caves. Definitely a religious experience for her, once she is within the caves, everything sounds the same. There is no difference between words – they all result in “ou-boum”, everything is nothing.

Brooks and Eliot’s use of the rooster was also extremely interesting to me. In Eliot’s time, anthropology was what my undergraduate colleagues would call “armchair anthropology”. Most of the research regarding human social behavior was done through reading the classics and developing theories from that information. A few decades later, Bronislaw Malinowski delved into the world of ethnography and participant observation, traveling to different parts of the world and coexisting with various peoples. Now, many anthropologists are aware of the importance of the rooster within various native cultures. The most famous example is the Balinese cockfight as studied by Clifford Geertz. While in Bali, Geertz learned the significance of the cockfight and the rooster to the Bali people to be religious. He writes, "In the cockfight, men and beast, good and evil, ego and id, the creative power of aroused masculinity and the destructive power of loosened animality fuse in a bloody drama of hatred, cruelty, violence, and death" (pp. 420-1). This statement perhaps best describes portions of Eliot’s waste land, in ways that I had never imagined. In these rituals, there are battles that occur until an outcome can be produced, ultimately resulting in some sort of meaning. Perhaps for Eliot, that meaning was found in the Upanishad he quoted, “Shantih shantih shantih” – “The Peace which passeth understanding”.

Mansfield and Her Influences

After reading Katherine Mansfield’s stories, I am extremely impressed. Unlike Virginia Woolf’s stories, there seems to be more dialogue, which for me, makes her stories much more available. Mansfield’s characters possess distinct qualities that allow them to be factors within the story. They themselves are more of the story, rather than the actual plot itself in most cases. Each of Mansfield’s stories, while often incorporating the same characters, address a wide variety of ideas. It is also interesting to notice the different influences that Mansfield may have had on her writing, as well as her significant influence on Virginia Woolf’s work.

In “Prelude”, immediately I loved seeing the use of the vernacular language. It made me think of Mark Twain and his use of the American vernacular language in his fiction. This different dialogue provides the reader with another significant dimension to the characters, providing age, class, and even ethnicity without stating it outright. This helps the characters to come to life, which especially occurred for me with Lottie and Kezia. Their dialogue made me feel as though these small girls were running around me as I took in their story. “Prelude” also addresses class distinctions as we have seen in many of the other modern works. The interactions between the servants and the family establish Mansfield’s take on society. Mansfield is also concerned with “escape” in “Prelude”. Each of the characters possess a desire to run away from their respective realities. Linda Burnell wants to drive away in a carriage and not even wave goodbye to everyone. She loves her husband, but often does not see the man who she fell in love with; instead, she sees a man who is constantly trying to impregnate her, something which she does not want to happen. Beryl Fairfield is stuck living with her sister’s family instead of having a life of her own. She wants to escape from their life, as well as this fake self that she has developed in order to cope with the realities that exist. The children often play different role-playing games, allowing them to get away from their small, young reality and deposits them within grown-up or even animal life. Alice gets lost in her dreams. Stanley really seems to be the only person who no longer feels the need to escape, now that they have moved from the city to the country. Perhaps this is why the women are always happy when Stanley leaves, as seen in “At the Bay”, so they no longer need to be exposed to his contentment.

As I read “Prelude”, I wondered if all these women represented Mansfield as a whole in some way. Each of the women struggles with their different problems – be it sensuality, fakeness, or death. According to Lee and Meyers, Mansfield encountered similar problems within her own life.

In “At the Bay”, I could not help but see nuances of Kate Chopin’s writing. Chopin’s “The Awakening” was released in 1899, so it is possible that Mansfield may have read it, but was it really an influence? I searched some academic journal databases looking for any connection, but it was to no avail. Could a modern British woman writer be influenced by a modern American woman writer? Each of their stories has women characters who are influenced by other women. These women who influence have characteristics outside the realm of normalcy. They are often disliked or unaccepted within the society, as is the case with Mademoiselle Reisz in The Awakening and Mrs. Harry Kember in “At the Bay”. The story is set on a beach, as much of The Awakening is, and ultimately results in an affair as well. The similarities are striking, I am just not sure if Katherine would stoop to the level of American literature.

While I am on the topic of influences, it is quite clear that Woolf influenced “The Garden-Party” and vice versa. Woolf’s “Kew Gardens” does seem to have had an impact on Mansfield’s “The Garden-Party”, however I think Mansfield’s story had an even greater effect on Woolf’s Mrs. Dalloway. “The Garden-Party” follows Mrs. Dalloway’s plot almost to a tee – opens with flowers, a party is being thrown, some talk of class distinctions, a man dies, upset at the possible ruin of the party, and a simple statement to close the story. I am almost a little upset with Woolf, as I can not help but almost feel as though Mansfield was robbed. While I understand the idea of tradition and the use of the canon in art, the overall similarities are overwhelming. Especially after reading Lee’s essay on the relationship between Woolf and Mansfield, I feel that Woolf was quite devilish in the relationship, more so than Katherine. Perhaps I am being too sentimental about the whole thing, because as it is, each of these two women produced extraordinary works and it is quite possible that their relationship was the necessary catalyst to provide the competition and the drive that made these women what they have become today. Don’t worry Virginia, you are forgiven…

To Hear Vivaldi...

I had technical difficulty getting the audio clip on this blog page itself, but if you go to my profile page, click on Audio URL and it gives you a great MP3 of the concerto...ENJOY!

"Kew Gardens" as "La Primavera"

From last week's discussion, I have been preoccupied with the idea of modern works of art influencing one another. This week's readings of the stories from Virginia Woolf's Monday or Tuesday exacerbated my preoccupation (to a fault). Through the readings, I recognized Woolf's experimentation with stream of consciousness and her use of being versus non-being, which she loves to use as well. I enjoyed the way that Woolf painted a picture in each of her stories, using bright colors to create an environment for her characters and her ideas. It brought me back to the Goldman essay and Woolf’s relationship with her sister, Vanessa. In fact, I was so moved by Woolf’s story, “Kew Gardens”, I developed an intense relationship with it – however, it was musical in nature.

From the start of my journey into “Kew Gardens”, I initially thought that I was just going to get another vivid piece of work by Woolf. The first paragraph sucked me into the gardens. I became a part of the flower-bed that day in the gardens. I felt the colors of the flowers. I was the raindrop. Every descriptive aspect of the flower-bed, I enveloped. I was now thoroughly invested in her story, there was no way out.

Next, the first couple entered the gardens -- a married couple, with children, each contemplating their past lives without their spouse. The man thinks about his first love, Lily (ironically the name of a flower; certainly a plan by Woolf), while the woman thinks of painting water-lilies and a kiss which she received, not from a lover, but from an elderly woman, “the mother of all [her] kisses all [her] life”. Odd, slightly askew from what one would intend this woman to be thinking, but nevertheless Woolf does not want to be typical. The family walks by the flower-bed and they gradually dissipate into nature and again, we are returned to the flower-bed itself.

Here, it is the snail that becomes the object of our attention. Now, I am him. I see his goal amidst the brown cliffs of earth. During my deliberation of how to cross the bed, yet another couple walks past – this time, two men.

One old and one young, I am not sure who is leading who through the gardens. Initially, I believed it was the older man who was a bit of kilter, but at further reading, I am not sure if it is not the younger who is the eccentric one. The elder man is relaying stories about the spirits of the dead to the younger man, but then loses himself to a woman in black and then to a flower, which brings him to Uruguay – Woolf’s stream of consciousness at work again. This leads us to another couple, now two elderly women, who are entertained by the two men, but enter themselves into an odd dialogue of words. Woolf makes these words literally fall from the sky and one of the women experiences it, along with the reader. And then I returned to the flower-bed as the snail.

As I am deciding which way I will traverse the bed, another couple appears – a young man and a young woman. As Woolf describes the two, they seem to emerge from a chrysalis. Their interaction is “toneless and monotonous”, as if still trying to get a grasp of their newness. They are in constant question of each other and of their surroundings, just as a newborn animal would be. However, the man wants to go one way and the woman another.

Finally, I am returned to the flower-bed. This time, I am not the snail, but again a presence within the bed itself.

At the end of the story, I could not help but feel that I had somehow experienced this all before – a déjà vu of sorts. I was sure, however, that I had not read this story before. My experience with this work was purely musical. I am by no means a classical music connoisseur, in fact my only exposure to classical music came by means of a humanities requirement for my undergraduate degree at Emory. Alas, despite my amateur knowledge and after serious struggle, I was able to come up with two pieces – Igor Stravinsky’s ballet “The Rite of Spring” and Antonio Vivaldi’s concerto “Four Seasons – La Primavera”. Ultimately, I decided that it was not Stravinsky’s ballet that I thought coincided with “Kew Gardens” but instead Vivaldi’s work. Although there could be arguments in favor of Stravinsky, “The Rite of Spring” was too wild and dissonant for Woolf’s story, which had a clear rhythm.

As I listen to Vivaldi, I can see “Kew Gardens” unfold. Every natural aspect of the story has a voice within his concerto. Vivaldi divided his concerts into allegro-largo-allegro, with each of the allegros being fast in tempo and the largo being slow. In “Kew Gardens”, the allegros are the introduction and the conclusion of the story, while the largo is the paragraph about the snail. Vivaldi also wrote sonnets to go with each section of his concerto. They are as follows:

Allegro

Springtime is upon us.
The birds celebrate her return with festive song,
and murmuring streams are softly caressed by the breezes.
Thunderstorms, those heralds of Spring, roar, casting their dark mantle over heaven,
Then they die away to silence, and the birds take up their charming songs once more.

Largo

On the flower-strewn meadow, with leafy branches rustling overhead, the goat-herd sleeps, his faithful dog beside him.

Allegro

Led by the festive sound of rustic bagpipes, nymphs and shepherds lightly dance beneath the brilliant canopy of spring.

I am still struggling to understand if there is any concrete relation between the sonnets and Woolf’s story, but if anyone has any suggestions, I would love to hear them.

As I was researching Vivaldi to find these sonnets and a file of his concerto to include with my blog, I discovered that Vivaldi’s work was not wholly discovered until the very early 20^th century and apparently, Ezra Pound was instrumental to his revival, according to Wikipedia. Perhaps we can thank him for exposing Woolf to Vivaldi’s works? I have not yet found any other correlation between the two’s work, but I am hoping to get into this further. As you can see, it is a work in progress and perhaps I have bit off more than I can chew…

"the light they gave us was not extinguished until it had revealed the way of the future"

This week’s readings have revealed the complimentary relationship between visual arts and literature through the development of Modernism. Both aspects of art experienced similar challenges in trying to gain respect for their works. Just as modern literature moved through different movements, modern art simultaneously did so as well. Visual art also encountered issues in feminism, politics, and morality; at times, being accused of having agendas. Moving away from Impressionism and concern with naturalism, art became Post-Impressionistic and became more concerned with how we relate to objects, rather than simply color and light. Goldman cites Virginia Woolf’s response to Bergson’s criticism in “Romantic to Classic: Post-Impressionist Theories from 1910 to 1912” and Woolf’s concern with consciousness in art. Woolf focuses a great deal on being versus non-being and where, when, how, and why we float between these liminal spaces. This passage reminded me of another quotation by Woolf:

Often when I have been writing one of my so-called novels I have been baffled by this same problem; that is, how to describe what I call in my private shorthand – ‘non-being’. Every day contains more non-being than being. Yesterday for example, Tuesday the 18^th of April, was [as] it happened a good day; above the average in ‘being’. It was fine; I enjoyed writing these first pages…These separate moments of being were however embedded in many more moments of non-being. I have already forgotten what Leonard and I talked about at lunch; and at tea; although it was a good day the goodness was embedded in a kind of nondescript cotton wool. This was always so. A great part of every day is not lived consciously… When it is a bad day the proportion of non-being is much larger…The real novelist can somehow convey both sorts of being (“A Sketch of the Past” 70).

Woolf wants experience. For her, art should be a moment of being, whether in visual art or literature, as perhaps Woolf may argue here that her “nondescript wool” is a work of art in itself.

Along with this push for expression and design, form begins to supersede color in visual art. The emotional elements of design that Fry develops (rhythm of line, mass, space, light, shade and color) brought to mind Eliot’s “Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock”. Eliot uses all of these elements within the poem to make it a great piece of literature, so it is possible that Fry may have inadvertently set standards for poetry as well.

Similarities also spawned in the arguments between romanticism and classicism within the visual arts, just as it had within literature. Arguments within Goldman’s essays returned me to Eliot, yet again, but this time with “Tradition and the Individual Talent” in mind. Meier-Grafe said, “the light they gave us was not extinguished until it had revealed the way of the future” (127). I thought this was the perfect quotation to relate to Eliot’s concept of tradition – applied to all artistic works. No work is completely the artist’s. It is built on the canon of artistry and I believe that through this week’s readings, it can safely be said that this is true across mediums as well. Visual art can influence written art and vice versa. Goldman’s essays did, however, bring up the issue of elitism within visual art, as Eliot suggested in “Tradition and the Individual Talent”: “Poetry is not a turning loose of emotion, but an escape from emotion; it is not the expression of personality, but an escape from personality. But, of course, only those who have personality and emotions know what it means to want to escape from these things” (43).

Lastly, Goldman’s account of Vanessa Bell and Virginia Woolf’s relationship is extremely interesting. I had not realized how important visual art was to Woolf and the significant reflection of it within her works. She attended art exhibitions to help herself with her own artistry. The artistic works of Bell influenced Woolf positively, I would say, provoking ideas that perhaps would not have flourished without her sister’s physical artistic prowess.

Eliot's Early Poetry

Prior to reading Eliot’s poetry for the first time, I was unsure of what to expect. Eliot’s prose was complicated enough, I could not imagine how obscure his poetry was going to be. Despite whatever hidden themes Eliot may have created, I was surprised at the imagery that he was still capable of provoking for the reader. Due to Eliot’s fierce disdain for Romanticism, I thought I would be walking into an intangible world of feelings, unable to be fully experienced with all of my senses. Eliot, thank you for proving me wrong.

“The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock” immediately interested me with the simile, “When the evening is spread out against the sky/Like a patient etherised upon a table” (ln 2-3). A creepy analogy to think about – a person sprawled out on a table, about to have surgery performed on them – yet, intriguing; the perfect lead-in to perk my interest. Two stanzas later, Eliot uses personification to manipulate the fog into having cat-like qualities as it “rubs its back”, “rubs its muzzle”, “licked its tongue” and eventually “curled once about the house, and fell asleep” (ln 15-22). As the poem continues, it becomes apparent that the narrator (who I assume is Prufrock) is traveling to visit a woman. However, there is an anxiousness that I cannot exactly pinpoint to one exact place. Prufrock’s concern with his receding hair in lines 40-41 is an example of his own anxiety about the visit, but there seems to be an underlying tense feeling throughout the poem.

After Prufrock’s (secret) visit to the woman, he is concerned about telling her his story. As the epigraph suggests, Dante only told his story because it could not be retold, and therefore judged. Prufrock, in offering up his tale, may be hurt by this woman who really does not have any desire to know him in that sense. Perhaps this can be related to Eliot’s own life and the lack of intimacy that he experienced with his wives. Prufrock does not want to be like Hamlet, with his incessant monologues, droning on and on about his problems, for if he did, he would be more like the Fool of Shakespeare’s plays and it would eventually lead to his “drowning” (ln 111-119, 131).

Unfortunately, I have not yet read Henry James’s Portrait of a Lady, so I am not entirely sure of the connections between Eliot’s poem and James’s novel. I am familiar with Eliot’s literary criticism and his praise of bouncing off of other artists’ work, so I imagine he used some of James’s techniques here. Eliot’s poem does compose a portrait of a lady. I use the word “compose” because Eliot uses many musical terms throughout the poem and it even has a song-like form itself. The Preludes of Chopin are juxtaposed to the tom-tom of the narrator’s mind, creating this disinterest in the narrator when he is talking to the woman. Is the woman interested in the narrator and he is not interested in her? I get the sense that she is much older than the narrator in her dialogue. In Part II, the woman says, “And youth is cruel, and has no remorse/And smiles at situations which it cannot see”, then the narrator smiles (ln 48-50). Ultimately, when the narrator goes overseas and he wants to write to the woman, he is concerned that she may have died. This must somehow be incorporated with the “dying fall” that is located within the poem in various places. A “dying fall” are muted or dampened notes, that have rhythm but no pitch. They are comprised of implied notes that cannot be performed or are performed only faintly for effect. How is the woman’s death a “dying fall”?

I do not have much to say about “Preludes” or “Le Figlia Che Piange”. I enjoyed both poems, but I did not find them to be as intriguing as the others. I did think it was interesting that “Preludes” was not in the beginning of the poems (as a prelude would be), however I see the significance of it being after “Portrait of a Lady” with the mention of Preludes in that poem. Perhaps if the lady did die, this is the continuance of the concert after her death. It is a waltz between light and dark, clean and dirty. “Le Figlia Che Piange” or “The Weeping Girl”, again a poem centered around a woman, appears to perfectly end this set. The girl seems upset, though I am not sure at whom exactly. Is she mad at the narrator? Or is she mad at the fact that she is aging? I also had an idea that she might be dead and that this is a dream (or nightmare) of the narrator. Her arms of flowers and the hair over her arms could be the girl in her casket. Attention to the last two lines of the poem have brought me to entertain this idea. Overall, I am excited to discuss more about Eliot’s poetry and was pleasantly surprised with the readability of his poems (if not the understanding of his cognizance).

Eliot, Post-Structuralism, and Criticism

This week’s readings were certainly intense for any newcomer to Modernism. Chock full of criticism and the encompassing concern of each author, to establish not only what his respective point was (and what it was not), each essay required several readings in order to grasp as much information as possible.

Eliot’s essays engaged me the most out of this week’s readings. Although dense in language, “Tradition and the Individual Talent” touched on some interesting issues. Eliot gets right to the point by immediately confronting the difference between tradition and individualism. As critics, we want to see something new, something completely non-traditional in order to applaud the work. However, Eliot dives right into what essentially reminds me of what will become the post-structuralism argument of Roland Barthes, as seen in his essay “Death of the Author” (1967) and the work of others, such as Derrida and Foucault. Each piece of work that is created has nearly no possibility of being totally free from external influence and this is where the notion of tradition comes into play for Eliot. Eliot writes, “No poet, no artist of any art, has his complete meaning alone. His significance, his appreciation is the appreciation of his relation to the dead poets and artists” (38). Eliot argues that it is this influence from “dead artists” that is necessary in order to produce great works.

Although it is a known fact that Shakespeare used the influence of “dead artists” in “Hamlet”, Eliot certainly had no problem blasting the character Hamlet to shreds. Eliot returns to the ideas of emotions and feelings and ultimately, he decides that Shakespeare was inexperienced in the emotions and feelings that Hamlet displays. Aside from this, Eliot believes there is a detrimental imbalance between the cause and effect of Hamlet’s emotions and feelings. This ultimately results in the reader’s inability to truly understand “Hamlet” since “we should have to understand things which Shakespeare did not understand himself” (49).

“The Function of Criticism” returns to build a main point first addressed in “Tradition and the Individual Talent”. Eliot refers to many other critics in order to prove his point (or disprove theirs, I am not sure). Eliot is concerned this time with an “inner voice” that Murry has coined, yet Eliot believes that with an inner voice, it has the ability to take over and lose the meaning that may otherwise rear its head. It is in this essay that Eliot solidifies an idea that was beginning to form in “Tradition and the Individual Talent” – the necessity of fact in criticism. However, with the proposal of this idea, also arises a dilemma – how will proof against fraud be possible? So, how are we to truly criticize then? Eliot seems to give himself a safety net at the end of this essay, defending his ideas, yet not discouraging dispute. Is criticism similar to every other –ism in this world and it runs on a “to each his own” basis?

"Only Connect..."

Howard’s End finally made some of the ideas of Modernism clear from last week. As the readings had discussed the political issues that Modernism addressed, Howard’s End brought these issues to the forefront with the intertwining lives of the Schlegels, the Wilcoxes and the Basts. Howard’s End is addressing the question, as Trilling points out, “Who shall inherit England?” and ultimately, the classes have mixed to the point that there is no way to assign England to one particular class. Eventually, there will be no distinct class separations, creating a social “melting pot” within the country.

Throughout the novel, there were some repeated themes, phrases, and images that would be helpful to index. Forster attempts to bring the different families together, taking some time to really succeed. First, there is Helen Schlegel and Paul Wilcox’s failed romance. Next, a friendship develops between Margaret Schlegel and Mrs. Wilcox. Finally, the bonds of friendship turned love between Margaret and Mr. Henry Wilcox seals the fate of combined England. Forster, however, does not leave out the lower class Basts from the mix. It turns out that Henry has had a sexual encounter with Jacky Bast and Helen Schlegel has one with Leonard Bast, resulting in a child. Forster has intricately weaved the lives of each of these families/classes in order to answer the ultimate question.

Another repetitive aspect of the novel are the telegrams. The Schlegels seem to think that the Wilcoxes are always communicating via telegram. The idea of the “seen” and the “unseen” also repeats itself through the story, as the Schlegels seem to be often preoccupied with the conflict between the material world and the spiritual world (as seen with the idea of Christmas).

Howard’s End is certainly a good example of modernism and modernity. The encroachment of modernity can be seen with the motor car, thrown into the story line occasionally. When the motor does come into play, it is usually taking whomever to something exciting. The relationships that are formed by the end of the novel are also a good example of modernism. The Schlegels and the Wilcoxes living together with the Schlegel-Bast child is reminiscent to the living situation of the Bloomsbury Group. Clearly, an unconventional way of living, without looking to the deeper subtext of England, they seem to representative of modernist values.

Forster’s address of gender in the novel is much more subtle than I would have expected. He does not praise feminism, rather he drops in situations where the Schlegel women subvert the cultural norms pressed upon them at the time. Margaret defies Charles by jumping out of the motor car, Helen chooses to engage in sexual activity with Leonard, and Mrs. Wilcox is the true owner of Howard’s End.

For me, the form of the novel seems to be built very much like a house. Initially, when you walk into the door, you are introduced to the characters, but only on a superficial level. The Schlegels are located on the top floor of the house, the Wilcoxes on the second floor and the Basts on the main floor. Eventually, you reach the basement on your tour and it is there that you really see each of the characters/families for who they are and how they are all fatefully interconnected.

What is Modernism?

Though nearly a century has passed since the birth of the period "Modernism", the discussion of Modernism's meaning has far from ceased. Just as Christopher Reed discusses the binaries of Modernism in his attempt at clarification, critics continue to argue what the Modernists did and did not mean with their respective works (2). From the critical readings assigned this week, each author puts a different aspect of Modernism on the literary table.

Bonnie Kime Scott addresses the role of gender in Modernism. We were asked to look over her first piece, "Intro to Gender of Modernism" as well as her later, reflective piece, "A Retro-prospective on Gender in Modernism". Considering the living arrangements that the Modernists (particularly the Bloomsbury group) had, I thought that this particular aspect would be very interesting. It is true that there is a lot of focus on women writers at this time, however with the rise of women's rights, it only makes sense that their would be significant focus on their work. Aside from this, the clusters that the Modernists arranged themselves in are extremely reminiscent of matriarchal society. As a former student of anthropology, I can not help but notice the support, guidance, and love that each of these individuals had for each other. And as Reed argues, the Modernists were defensive of individuality, but it was in these groups that growth occurred (9).

In Scott's second piece, she immediately dives into the rise of interest in the men of Modernism and the masculinity of the writing during that time. For me, this second writing hit the nail on the head. With the mixing of homosexuality and heterosexuality during the Modernist period, the idea of gender can be conflicting - where does masculinity begin and feminism end and is there some third, shaded area that conveys both genders? The possibility of transsexuality raises some red flags when I consider literature. Does this transsexuality make it difficult for the writer to establish his/herself. Maybe the shadiness of clear gender takes away from the writer's message or conveyance (which brings up further argument about whether or the not the writer even has one). I feel that Scott's second piece was much more unclear than her first and perhaps she is even unsure of her message.

Christopher Reed's "Intro to Bloomsbury Rooms" was the best article (I thought) of this week's readings. After reading the introduction in the Cambridge Companion to Modernism (which was a precise overview), I thought Reed's article on "Heroism and Housework" was perfectly modernist. The piece was loaded with binaries, which at first, was confusing. How can something be active and passive at the same time? But, after I continued on, Reed made a very heady, unclear period much more accessible than I had first thought. The idea of domesticity versus heroism was extremely interesting. The fact that many conceived the Bloomsbury group to be too domestic because their art that was furniture and it seemed that Bloomsbury was rebelling against this idea of domesticity, yet embracing it at the same time. Just as they were clearly a group, yet they desired to be recognized at an individual level. This constant give and take of Modernism is what is most intriguing to me. There seem to be no definitive answers, only hints that lead to more questions and force us to dig deeper to look at the political, social, gender, and class struggles of men, women, and whole civilizations at this time. I look forward to experiencing Modernism first hand with the aid of critical readings because just reading these articles have left me clamoring for some sort of tangible story in which to relate it all.