« Another Crack in the Glass Ceiling (but you have to squint really hard to see it) | Main | Guilt-Free TV » |
|
|
March 3, 2006 London 
I love William Blake. I first discovered him in highschool, and fell head over heels with his Songs of Experience. It was the right time in my life to be introduced to a poet who confronted taboo subjects head-on, in plain language. Since then I've become a bit disenchanted with some aspects of his work--the clunky rhymes can drive me insane--but he is still one of my favourite poets. I hope that Jane Dark reads this one and offers a comment of her own on the context and current critical interpretation of this piece, because I am unequipped to do more than offer an enthusiastic "I like this!" and some words on technique. But first the poem: I wander thro' each charter'd street,
Near where the charter'd Thames does flow,
And mark in every face I meet
Marks of weakness, marks of woe.
In every cry of every Man, How the chimney-sweeper's cry But most thro' midnight streets I hear In case you didn't know, his Songs of Experience are strongly anti-marriage. The rhyme and meter in this piece are flawless. In some of his pieces he has a tendency to use visual rhymes (words which look like they should rhyme but don't actually sound the same), which I don't personally like. But not in this one. I love how strongly anti-classist the poem is: the images clearly argue that the misfortunes of the poor and disadvantaged are part and parcel of the fortunes of the well-off. The chimney-sweeper's tears are a reproach to the church; the soldier dies for royalty. But those are common. It's the last stanza that really gets me, where he manages to combine the exploitation of young girls, the exhaustion and drudgery of new motherhood, the costs of the prostitution trade to married women, and his political views on marriage. Is that an economy of words or what? Verbs and nouns outweight conjunctions and adjectives by a solid margin, and the last line is so perfect--such an economy of words, the verb strong and vivid, the combination of "marriage" and "hearse" unexpected and catching the reader unawares, and placing "hearse" itself in the last spot where it reinforces the poem's darkness and underlying theme of death--I could read it for an hour. In fact, I have. So off to work with me. Posted by Andrea at March 3, 2006 8:07 AM under Friday Poetry Blogging EMAIL this entry (comments fields are below this section) Trackback Pings TrackBack URL for this entry: Comments Another vote for Blake! Posted by: kermitthefrog at March 3, 2006 10:09 AM
And I am so glad that I stopped by here today. Lately, I haven't had a conversational appetite for much; well, and no time, either. I don't think you need any current critical interpretation on this; you've said it, exactly as Blake himself would have wanted. I will add, though, the "other" side to London, the part that isn't really ever taught, because it's only there in Blake's longer prophecies, which are, mmm, both exhilarating and exhausting. Despite the indictment in this poem -- the fact that *this* is Blake's metaphor/synecdoche for that city; London is also the site where Los, his blacksmith/artist figure, builds Golgonooza, the city of art and industry. And I think it says quite a lot that despite the fury and grief in this poem, Blake could also see the potential for transformation into something else. It is not, strictly speaking, a happy optimistic vision -- Golgonooza is built with great positive passion and at great cost. And in the end, it too, is only the last place before eternity, and thus it keeps us from it, until it is burnt up. Nevertheless, there is really no one like Blake for holding two separate visions in his head; for seeing change. Thank you for this, Andrea. I know, it wasn't for me, but I got to play. It let me come and talk about Blake, and I like that, and I especially like it when I'm still in limbo, waiting to hear about my MA essay (and may be in limbo for a while yet; not that that's cause for concern -- I'm just impatient.) Posted by: Jane Dark at March 3, 2006 10:07 PM
Kermit: :) You're welcome, Jane! I'm glad you stopped by. And I have no idea why the poem's formatting is so wonky--it shows up properly in my preview window. But anyway. I've never had the ambition to attempt Blake's longer works--probably I should. And yes for "two separate visions"--I love the point/counterpoint of the Songs of Innocence vs. Songs of Experience. Not exactly point/counterpoint, more like a conversation, maybe. I remember once reading an LJ post by someone who took one of his better-known poems and posted it and railed against Blake being a horrible anti-sex misogynist, and I thought, you know, you're just missing so much--you can't take one of Blake's poems and read it in isolation because they all talk to and build on each other. Posted by: Andrea at March 4, 2006 8:05 AM
The first man I ever loved -- not my husband; this was before we'd met -- he carried William Blake with him whenever he travelled & would quote to me. So Blake has funny connotations for me. But you are inspiring me to try again. Posted by: Jennifer at March 6, 2006 1:03 AM
I can see how that would make it a little awkward. I have similar issues with the things my first husband liked to do. Posted by: Andrea at March 7, 2006 8:03 AM
Go Berserk |
Change is God (Octavia Butler, Parable Series) "Constant kindness can accomplish much. As the sun makes ice melt, kindness causes misunderstanding, mistrust, and hostility to evaporate." Albert Schweitzer Email Frances! frances AT athenadreaming DOT org You can email her mother too (that's me):
The Best of Beanie Baby
Recent Entries
Categories Monthly Archives Annika Info
Earn Your Karmic Brownie Points The WHOYCBE Not So Secret Spoilers These links open in a new browser window. Random Writer's Quote A writer is a person for whom writing is more difficult than it is for other people. ~ Thomas Mann
My Burgeoning Media Empire (that's a joke)
Dwarfism Resources: Frances's Big List of Misdiagnoses and False Positives Prenatally:
Postnatally:
Blogs I'm Reading
Other Mom Sites: Green Family Library
The title of this blog was taken from the short story "The Language of Nna Mmoy" by Ursula le Guin in her collection, Changing Planes. I won't tell you why or how, because I want you to read the story and figure it out for yourself.
|
