Finding New Friends in Elizabeth Goudge’s “A Book of Comfort”

In school my mom had me keep a copybook—a notebook filled with favorite or classic quotations, poems, and excerpts from books, all copied out in my best handwriting. Even though she reads this blog and it might go badly for me, I must admit that I didn’t enjoy this, at least not until halfway through high school. In college, though, I found myself still keeping a copybook of sorts, as I would jot down powerful or poignant lines from the literature I was reading in class.

In reading Elizabeth Goudge’s A Book of Comfort I got the distinct impression that this was her copybook. It’s the first of her collections that I’ve tried, and although it’s not technically her writing, the experience of reading it was similar. One has to approach a Goudge novel (and collection, apparently) with patience, allowing it to unfold until one can appreciate its meaning.

On Snowflakes, Paper and Ice

I've been a bit sad this year, because this is the first Christmas in several years that I have not adorned my desk at work with paper snowflakes. Snowflakes, I feel, have been getting a bad rap lately, being used as a term to describe young people who think they are more special than they are. What did snowflakes do to deserve such negative associations?

The tradition of making paper snowflakes is something that comes naturally to children, but for me it  took on another level with home-schooling. My mom got a book from the library, Easy-to-Make Decorative Paper Snowflakes by Brenda Lee Reed. 

Flapper Shakespeare

"One of the most remarkable things about the great writers of antiquity is that they appear to be so modern in their outlook. what we really mean is that they are both ancient and modern at the same time. there are certain things in life that time cannot stale. Hamlet has recently been played in modern dress, an experiment that has met with extraordinary success. Why is this? surely it is because great poetry is concerned with those feelings and thoughts which are innate and unchanging in human nature, and continue to resist the assaults of time and he vagaries of fashion." 

The Study of Poetry by Paul Landis

Chapter 1: The Nature of Poetry, pg. 13

I found this passage interesting because of what I'd discussed in an earlier post about setting Shakespearean plays in other-than-Elizabethan times. Landis has a point. One of the aspects that constitutes great art (literature, poetry, paintings, etc.) is that there is something about it that transcends the time in which is was created, representing some universal characteristic of humanity. Therefore, as long as the core content is left unchanged, it's possible to alter or remove superficial details (such as clothing in the case of performing plays) without damaging the essence of a particular work.

Thoughts on “The Man Against the Sky” by Edwin Arlington Robinson

While it’s no longer April, I realized that I had only one more poem on my “list” of pieces from The Oxford Book of American Verse, so might as well finish up with one more poem by Edwin Arlington Robinson, The Man Against the Sky.

Mostly alone he goes

This poem is centered on the idea that there are several outlooks on life—perceptions, worldviews, philosophies—and that each individual has the freedom to choose which outlook they’re going to use as they live.

Even he who climbed and vanished may have taken
Down to the perils of a depth not known,
From death defended though by men forsaken,
The bread that every man must eat alone;
He may have walked while others hardly dared
Look on to see him stand where many fell

The first perspective is that of a one who lives courageously, yet isolated. It brings to mind the proverbial problem that “it’s lonely at the top,” because the deeds of great leaders are often admired without a full comprehension of the sacrifices that were a part of those deeds.

Poetry Thoughts 2018: James Russell Lowell's "A Fable for Critics"

Poems stereotypically deal with weighty topics like love, death, transience, time, art, nature, humanity…and yet, sometimes poems are simply writing that rhymes. Sometimes poems are even funny—and I’m not just talking bawdy limericks, but witty satires. A Fable for Critics is basically a compendium of literary criticism of some of the other poets contained in The Oxford Book of American Verse, which makes James Russell Lowell’s work rather “meta.” And, considering he’s a poet criticizing his peers (perhaps betters?), it can come across as varied tones of tongue-in-cheek sarcasm, passive-aggressive jealousy, and sometimes just plain mudslinging. I loved it.

Poetry Thoughts 2018: John Greenleaf Whittier's "Proem" and "Songs of Labor"

Although sometimes his grammar is a bit archaic and forced, and he has a tendency to use antiquated language such as "thine" and "thou," I really enjoyed the section of The Oxford Book of American Verse devoted to the poetry of John Greenleaf Whittier. Here are a couple of his poems and my thoughts:

Poetry Thoughts 2018: Robinson's "Eros Tyrannos"

A common poem assigned in lit classes when I was in college was My Last Duchess by Robert Browning. In this poem the narrator is a Duke who is giving a tour of his home, points out a portrait of his “last Duchess” (which means she hasn’t been his only Duchess), and the rest of his monologue makes it clear that he not only counts the portrait among his many trophies, but also the woman who holds that position. It’s a rather creepy, sexist, socially critical poem, and despite its morbid subject matter I liked it for addressing a part of life that often gets swept under the carpet.

Eros Turannos by Edwin Arlington Robinson is the first poem since college that has given me the same sort of vibe. When I searched for a translation I found the title means “Love the King” in Greek, though I would interpret it more as tyrant than king, taking the poem’s contents into consideration. In fact, from my one semester of New Testament Greek I took in high school (thanks, Mom!) I would say that it should rather be interpreted as "tyrant love."

Poetry Thoughts 2018: Introduction

It took me a few years, but at the beginning of 2018 I finally finished The Oxford Book of American Verse. From Anne Bradstreet to Robert Lowell, for over 1,100 pages, I sampled what the literary critics and poetry enthusiasts considered the best of American verse in 1950.

Contrary to how I treat my other books, I often break the no-tampering rule and allow myself to write (with pencil, mind!) in them. This is the way I can keep track of my initial opinions and perceptions, and as needed diagram the meaning of some of the headier works. Unlike prose, I have found that my opinion of specific poems or poets may change over time.

Thoughts on Aristotle's "Poetics"

The way words can conjure a world and convey thoughts from one brain to another’s seems like true magic, yet a magic that has a science behind it nonetheless.

“Poetry in general seems to have sprung from two causes, each of them lying deep in our nature. First, the instinct of imitation is implanted in man from childhood, one difference between him and other animals being that he is the most imitative of living creatures, and thought imitation learns his earliest lessons…. Next, there is the instinct for ‘harmony’ and rhythm, metres being manifestly sections of rhythm. Persons, therefore, starting with this natural gift developed by degrees their special aptitudes, till their rude improvisations gave birth to Poetry.”

One of the earliest books about the science of writing happens to be one of the best I’ve read thus far. Aristotle’s Poetics is not simply about poetry—genres of Ancient Greece were not divided in the same ways as they are in modern times—but also talks about storytelling, comedy, plot structure, character development, diction and word choice, evoking emotion in the reader, Style, logic, and verisimilitude. (Verisimilitude is one of my favorite words learned in college lit classes, referring to a story being “true to life” or realistic.)

The Mabinogion - The Fairest of Them All

If you thought it was fun counting how many injuries should have killed Sir Kai, you’re in for another counting treat: How many of the maidens in this book are the most beautiful in the land?

If you want to know the answer but don’t have time at the moment to read the entire Mabinogion, don’t worry. I did it for you:

The Mabinogion - The Immortal Sir Kai

I had mentioned before how The Mabinogion’s stories contained a lot of gruesomeness. What I did not have time or space to mention, however, was that as I was reading the book, the majority of that violence seemed to be aimed at one character: Sir Kai.

Now, Sir Kai (also spelled Kay, Cei, or Cay depending on translation and author’s spelling preference) is the foster-brother of King Arthur himself. Anyone who’s read T.H. White’s The Sword in the Stone (or seen the Disney movie, which is fairly accurate despite lacking the thematic depth of White’s prose) may remember that Arthur, although heir to the crown of England, was raised by rather mediocre knight named Sir Ector and everyone was ignorant of Arthur’s true birthright until he pulled out the sword in the stone. Sir Ector’s own son, Kai, although generally characterized as a bully or boor, is made knight of the Round Table upon his foster-brother’s ascension to the throne.

His role in these stories is usually negative—he serves as the brutish muscle, the hotheaded person picking fights and challenging duels, or mocking the new Camelot arrivals even though they are really diamonds in the rough who will show him up with their superior deeds of valor and questing. However, I’ve always felt sorry for him, and feel he gets a bad rap.

The Mabinogion - An Easy Quest

Since Sir Owain tends to be a jerk going around in disguise and making all his relatives—including King Arthur himself—put out Missing Persons lists about him, portraits of him on whatever Camelot used for milk cartons, and generally assuming he was dead in the ditch somewhere, a fair amount of The Mabinogion’s Camelot segment is devoted to people going on quests looking for him.

One of my favorite exchanges is the result. King Arthur, now thinking that Owain is dead, has put out a call to his knights to go out into the land and find out Owain’s ultimate fate. Before anyone goes anywhere, though, he puts on a grand tournament…which of course Owain shows up to in disguise.

In a rare instance of poetic justice to Owain—the other one being where a dwarf gives him a good smack—his opponent is also in disguise. It’s Gawain (here called Gwalchmai), which, taking into account their uncle Arthur’s penchant for going incognito as the Black Knight, and also Arthur’s sisters Morgause and Morgan le Fay being enchantresses who regularly change their appearance, makes me think this whole disguise-y thing is a family trait.

The Mabinogion - Sir Owain the Jerk Knight

If Sir Gawain is my favorite Knight of the Round Table, his cousin Owain is the opposite. It’s not just that, in later stories, Owain is portrayed as this easy-going nice-guy character who has to deal with his churlish cousin Gawain’s jealousy of his obvious superiority…although that has a lot to do with it, too.

It’s that, much as the storytellers seem to admire Owain, as I’m reading about him I can’t help but feel he’s a bit of a jerk. Especially to ladies.

Here’s a handy list to make my point:

1)  Falls in love and promises to marry lady. Goes off questing instead of marrying her.

2)  Stays at a place hanging out with friends for three years instead of three months. How can you even make that kind of mistake?

3)  After six years he finally gets around to marrying his lady.

4) Outlives his wife so he can conveniently be paired up with all the other maidens he encounters in his stories.

5)  This little line (which I admit is the fault of the author and not Owain, but still conveys the sort of attitude he seems to have):

The Mabinogion - Introduction

The Mabinogion is compilation of medieval British (specifically Welsh) stories of love, war, and magic. Although there are many references to Arthurian legends, this compilation includes a variety of other tales as well. Although probably not as well-known as Mallory’s Le Morte D’arthur, The Mabinogion nevertheless has had a lasting impact on literature. To reference some past blog posts where I discussed this influence, J.R.R. Tolkien’s The Silmarillion is one example, and Lloyd Alexander’s The Chronicles of Prydain another.

To the contemporary audiences of the 12-13^th centuries or even before, this was their form of entertainment. Like television today, these oral recitations (or, once the stories were finally written down, read-alouds) had to serve in many roles: Romance, action, mystery, fantasy, philosophy, history, and perhaps even a little theology.

It takes a shift in values to understand how original audiences received these stories. To the modern reader, many of these heroes come across as meatheads and braggarts. Take Sir Kynon:

“I was the only son of my mother and father, and I was exceedingly aspiring and my daring was very great. I thought there was no enterprise in the world too mighty for me…”

Wow. Humble much?

The Vow of Silence in Chretien de Troyes' "Erec et Enide"

One of my favorite things to read as a teenager was Arthurian Romance cycles. In addition to the adventure and heroism found in Greek epic poetry, Arthurian mythology holds a sort of mysterious quality in its tone. These are not simply stories of battles for honor, glory, and country. These are also stories of individuals embarking into the great unknown of life, questing for legendary objects such as the Holy Grail, which they may or may not succeed in obtaining. This is the sort of thing that fascinates me, because it is a sort of allegory for life: we often embark into the unknown of the future, and our goals may or may not be realistic.

But as it says on the tin, "Arthurian Romance" cycles also include romance. This is not so much the romance of today's Hallmark movies--though perhaps both are surreal in their idealism--but that of the French court of the time. Romance had less to do with love leading to marriage and family, and more about a man's undying devotion to a lady from afar,* often proving it by beating other knights in tournaments in her honor or going on lengthy expeditions for something she requested of him.

One of the main proponents of the French courtier definition of Romance was Chretien de Troyes. Even those who don't recognize his name will have at least a passing familiarity with a character he popularized in his retelling of Arthurian legends: Lancelot du Lac. The drama of Lancelot with King Arthur's wife Guenevere is the epitome of courtly romance, and Lancelot suddenly becoming the Greatest Knight of the Round Table in all the stories ever since would normally make me detest de Troyes...because obviously that honor belongs to none other than GAWAIN!!!!!!!!!!

But that is another rant for another post.

Suffering as a Part of Love according to Poetry of Sappho

The concept of love in Sappho's poetry is multifaceted, taking complex ideas--which other poets have written about ad nauseam--and putting them into concise, simplified form. (This brevity is of course helped by the fact that Sappho's works have only survived to this day in extremely fragmented form, but this too serves as a testament to her artistry, as it has endured and is beautiful and meaningful even in its incompleteness.)

Sappho's love is not confined tot he romantic love between man and woman, but also on the love that makes poignant other relationships such as those of mother-daughter and woman-woman. Although portions of her love poetry can be justifiably interpreted as erotic, Sappho's description of love transcends physical desire. There is something deeper, spiritual, in the way Sappho talks about people in love, and of people's love for each other. When creating the voice of a woman in love, she says:

I can't 
speak--my tongue is broken;
a thin flame runs under my skin*

This is a simple and relatable style that separates Sappho from lesser poets who have written on such a popular theme.

Who is Heroic? Achilles vs. Hector in Homer's "Iliad"

Seriously Achilles stop being such an emo. Ugh.

The Iliad portrays both Achilles and Hector as heroes with both admirable and faulty characteristics.  each represents his side of war: Achilles is the greatest warrior on the Greeks' side, Hector on the Trojan's. 

Despite the fact that both exhibit heroism and cowardice in this poem, it's always been my opinion that Hector represents the superior type of heroism. Sure, one could argue that Achilles is brave in that he does not really have a vested interest in war, and volunteers of his own volition.  But Hector is one of the few warriors on the losing side, and he fights bravely for his family and country.  Instead of giving up when things don't go well for him, he perseveres. This is in direct contrast with Achilles, who withdraws from war when he's insulted over petty matters of pride. In fact, Achilles is only drawn out of sulking in his tent by the death of his friend at Hector's hands, and returns to battle not for any greater cause than to carry out a personal vendetta of revenge against Hector.

Speaking Out No Matter the Cost: Chretien de Troyes' "Erec et Enide"

One of the most pivotal and mysterious parts of Chretien de Troyes’ Erec and Enide is the vow of silence. The vow of silence is the source not only of physical conflict—Enide’s breaking her vow introduces Erec’s fight scenes—but also moral and emotional conflict between the husband and wife.  As a plot device the vow illustrates the relationship between Erec and Enide in not only peaceful, but also dangerous circumstances. In this way the story Erec and Enide shows the conflict between true, self-sacrificing love and the expectations of fulfilling chivalric codes of honor.

There isn’t necessarily a premeditated reason for the vow of silence. However, investigating its possible functions is important in order to understand the plot as a whole. Although typical romance cycles are by nature cyclonical and disconnected, this Chretien de Troyes romance is atypical in that other parts of the story are interconnected with the vow of silence. Enide’s first words are what cause Erec’s anger, and her enforced vow of silence is a consequence of this action. 

Romeo and Juliet: An Alternate Version

It is the true mark of tragedy, particularly the literary genre, that the terrible ending is almost always completely avoidable. The saying goes, “But for a horse, the kingdom was lost.” When it comes to Shakespearean pacing, however, it’s not so much a horse that’s missing, as just a few more soliloquys. 

Let’s take Romeo and Juliet, since, as the death of the main characters in any Shakespearean tragedy is a foregone conclusion, I doubt it would cause an uproar if I spoil the ending. 

Most people know the ending of the play, but here is the recap of what happens right before the tears get jerked: Romeo and Juliet, being from two feuding families, have fallen in love and married in secret. Juliet is being pressured by her dad to marry this other guy named Paris, and since she’s gotten married in secret to her father’s mortal enemy she can’t well explain the whole situation. Well, she could. But that would have forced the families to get along without their children’s untimely demise.  Can you imagine the Thanksgivings?* Since this is a tragedy, though, that would be totally ridiculous. So instead Juliet does the only rational thing. She runs away and a Friar helps her fake her death.

Thoughts on William Cullen Bryant's "A Winter Piece"

From William Cullen Bryant's poem "A Winter Piece":

But Winter has yet brighter scenes—he boasts

Splendors beyond what gorgeous Summer knows;

Or Autumn with his many fruits, and woods

All flushed with many hues. Come when the rains

Have glazed the snow and clothed the trees with ice,

While the slant of sun of February pours

Into the bowers a flood of light. Approach!

The incrusted surface shall upbear thy steps,

And the broad arching portals of the grove

Welcome thy entering. Look! the massy trunks

Are cased in pure crystal; each light spray,

Nodding and tinkling in the breath of heaven,

Is studded with its trembling water-drops,

That glimmer with an amethystine light.

If you're like me, a resident of the northern hemisphere and thus trapped inside for several freezing
months at a stretch, then like me, you may need a reminder that even when Winter is bitter in its cold,
it is beautiful as well.