“Red Fox” Commentary
In the poem “Red Fox,” Margaret Atwood creates a conceit comparing a fox to impoverished women to promote the theme that society unjustly works to oppress women and the poor. The fox represents poor women, and the speaker continually demonstrates anger at society’s view of poverty. This poem promotes sympathy and aid for impoverished women by condemning society’s opinion of them.
The fox in this poem is starving; it is “lean” and desperate, and there are “slim pickings.” This is a widespread problem, and the rich, powerful members of society first try to deny the problem that poverty causes by promoting the idea that those who are starving become morally rich. Atwood rhetorically asks, “Why encourage the notion of virtuous poverty?” to question society’s perception of the poor as honorable. She condemns this idea by stating, “It’s only an excuse for zero charity,” which points out the selfishness of the rich.
Atwood contrasts this idea of poverty with the reality of desperation. “Absolute hunger corrupts absolutely”; hunger will cause humans to stray from their normal behavior. People actually become more selfish when faced with death, as Atwood’s allusion to the story “Hansel and Gretel” harshly points out. The speaker then comments that it is understandable to turn to crime to survive because “we’d all” do the same thing. However, right after that Atwood ironically says, “or so says the fox,” which negates the sympathy just displayed towards the poor. This explains once again society’s idea that the poor are actually deceptive and disgusting, but the problem should be ignored.
Atwood primarily uses sarcastically negative and condescending diction to portray society’s view of the fox, or poor women. Words and phrases such as “sly,” “trickster’s eyes,” “adept at lies,” and “thief and rascal” describe the destructive tendencies of women. These impoverished women can’t be trusted; a woman will use her “white knife of a smile” to act kind and trustworthy only to use that trust against the innocent. Atwood’s tone during these descriptions is bitter. The poem ends stating that these poor women don’t deserve “one more chance, or other life,” which the speaker, originally admiring and sympathetic of the fox, clearly does not actually believe.
Atwood uses the metaphor that describes starving women as a “lean vixen” to trigger sympathy and understanding for their situation. At the same time, she condemns the treatment of these poor people by society. These women need help because they are losing their humanity simply trying to survive.
Monday, February 23, 2009
Thursday, February 12, 2009
"The Frontier of Writing" Plog #4
From The Frontier Of Writing
Seamus Heaney
The tightness and the nilness round that space
when the car stops in the road, the troops inspect
its make and number and, as one bends his face
towards your window, you catch sight of more
on a hill beyond, eyeing with intent
down cradled guns that hold you under cover
and everything is pure interrogation
until a rifle motions and you move
with guarded unconcerned acceleration—
a little emptier, a little spent
as always by that quiver in the self,
subjugated, yes, and obedient.
So you drive on to the frontier of writing
where it happens again. The guns on tripods;
the sergeant with his on-off mike repeating
data about you, waiting for the squawk
of clearance; the marksman training down
out of the sun upon you like a hawk.
And suddenly you're through, arraigned yet freed,
as if you'd passed from behind a waterfall
on the black current of a tarmac road
past armor-plated vehicles, out between
the posted soldiers flowing and receding
like tree shadows into the polished windscreen.
Commentary:
In "The Frontier of Writing," Seamus Heaney uses a conceit comparing editing to a border checkpoint to emphasize the freedom writing offers and the satisfaction of being accepted. Heaney explains the tensions associated with writing publicly, but the same metaphor that describes the extreme scrutiny of critics also reveals the ultimate appeal of writing.
The extended metaphor in this poem compares publishing, the final step of writing, to a border checkpoint. In both the literal and symbolic sense, this puts the person being inspected at the mercy of a ruthless system. The original tone within this conceit is nervous. Diction such as "tightness", "inspect", "interrogation", "guarded", and "emptier" help to create this tone. Heaney uses this nervous tone to express a serious dislike for the troops, which symbolize editors. He shows the soldiers as less than human; Heaney says "a rifle motions," and he uses rifle instead of soldier to point out that the soldier's only power is in his gun. He mentions the "guns on tripods," and compares the snipers to hawks, which once again states the troop's lack of humanity, but it also shows that the editors are ready to shoot, and they assume they will have to. He sees critics, publishers, and editors as evil, emotionless killing machines, determined to block writers from their honest, innocent work.
Heaney then shifts to a tone contrasting to the tension felt early in the poem. When he says, "suddenly you're through," the tension lifts instantly, and the freedom and opportunity that writing provides is expressed. He calls the road after the block the "frontier of writing," which implies that writing can be limitless and full of opportunities. Heaney describes the freedom that being allowed through the block or finally accepted by publishers cause; it's "as if you'd passed from behind a waterfall on the black current of a tarmac road," which explains the lack of blocks on a writer when he (or she) receives a clean slate. When something gets published, and you simply start over again from scratch, and that experience is cleansing but difficult, like passing under a waterfall.
This poem demonstrates the appeal of writing. Heaney says, "where it happens again." The speaker is willing goes through the hell of intense scrutiny and humiliation to feel the freedom when he comes out the other end. While in the moment, the troops are terrifying, but as you pass they become harmless memories. The freedom of the "frontier of writing" pulls people back in; they will put up with all sorts of danger and tension to experience that extreme freedom.
Seamus Heaney
The tightness and the nilness round that space
when the car stops in the road, the troops inspect
its make and number and, as one bends his face
towards your window, you catch sight of more
on a hill beyond, eyeing with intent
down cradled guns that hold you under cover
and everything is pure interrogation
until a rifle motions and you move
with guarded unconcerned acceleration—
a little emptier, a little spent
as always by that quiver in the self,
subjugated, yes, and obedient.
So you drive on to the frontier of writing
where it happens again. The guns on tripods;
the sergeant with his on-off mike repeating
data about you, waiting for the squawk
of clearance; the marksman training down
out of the sun upon you like a hawk.
And suddenly you're through, arraigned yet freed,
as if you'd passed from behind a waterfall
on the black current of a tarmac road
past armor-plated vehicles, out between
the posted soldiers flowing and receding
like tree shadows into the polished windscreen.
Commentary:
In "The Frontier of Writing," Seamus Heaney uses a conceit comparing editing to a border checkpoint to emphasize the freedom writing offers and the satisfaction of being accepted. Heaney explains the tensions associated with writing publicly, but the same metaphor that describes the extreme scrutiny of critics also reveals the ultimate appeal of writing.
The extended metaphor in this poem compares publishing, the final step of writing, to a border checkpoint. In both the literal and symbolic sense, this puts the person being inspected at the mercy of a ruthless system. The original tone within this conceit is nervous. Diction such as "tightness", "inspect", "interrogation", "guarded", and "emptier" help to create this tone. Heaney uses this nervous tone to express a serious dislike for the troops, which symbolize editors. He shows the soldiers as less than human; Heaney says "a rifle motions," and he uses rifle instead of soldier to point out that the soldier's only power is in his gun. He mentions the "guns on tripods," and compares the snipers to hawks, which once again states the troop's lack of humanity, but it also shows that the editors are ready to shoot, and they assume they will have to. He sees critics, publishers, and editors as evil, emotionless killing machines, determined to block writers from their honest, innocent work.
Heaney then shifts to a tone contrasting to the tension felt early in the poem. When he says, "suddenly you're through," the tension lifts instantly, and the freedom and opportunity that writing provides is expressed. He calls the road after the block the "frontier of writing," which implies that writing can be limitless and full of opportunities. Heaney describes the freedom that being allowed through the block or finally accepted by publishers cause; it's "as if you'd passed from behind a waterfall on the black current of a tarmac road," which explains the lack of blocks on a writer when he (or she) receives a clean slate. When something gets published, and you simply start over again from scratch, and that experience is cleansing but difficult, like passing under a waterfall.
This poem demonstrates the appeal of writing. Heaney says, "where it happens again." The speaker is willing goes through the hell of intense scrutiny and humiliation to feel the freedom when he comes out the other end. While in the moment, the troops are terrifying, but as you pass they become harmless memories. The freedom of the "frontier of writing" pulls people back in; they will put up with all sorts of danger and tension to experience that extreme freedom.
Wednesday, February 4, 2009
"Mid-Term Break" Plog #3
Mid-term Break
I sat all morning in the college sick bay
Counting bells knelling classes to a close,
At two o'clock our neighbors drove me home.
In the porch I met my father crying--
He had always taken funerals in his stride--
And Big Jim Evans saying it was a hard blow.
The baby cooed and laughed and rocked the pram
When I came in, and I was embarrassed
By old men standing up to shake my hand
And tell me they were "sorry for my trouble,"
Whispers informed strangers I was the eldest,
Away at school, as my mother held my hand
In hers and coughed out angry tearless sighs.
At ten o'clock the ambulance arrived
With the corpse, stanched and bandaged by the nurses.
Next morning I went up into the room. Snowdrops
And candles soothed the bedside; I saw him
For the first time in six weeks. Paler now,
Wearing a poppy bruise on the left temple,
He lay in the four foot box as in a cot.
No gaudy scars, the bumper knocked him clear.
A four foot box, a foot for every year.
Commentary:
In the poem “Mid-term Break,” Seamus Heaney creates a blank tone to promote the theme that sudden loss causes shock and makes people act differently. The speaker, a college student, returns home for a break to attend the funeral of his 4 year old brother. He experiences the ultimate, untimely loss of a family member, and his observation of the many emotional responses to that loss emphasizes the strange reality of a world that doesn’t contain a loved one.
The speaker notices the emotions of others, but he seems to simply observe, because he lacks the typical emotions caused by the loss of a family member. The title of the poem, and the first stanza, imply that the “break” is a vacation. Usually students are very impatient when they are about to leave school for home, and the speaker exhibits this behavior as he waits “all morning” to be picked up, “counting bells” and keeping close track of the time. Heaney then surprises us with the fact that the speaker actually has a “break” to attend a funeral. The young man sees his father cry uncharacteristically, but he shows no sign of the same level of sadness. He feels embarrassed instead, as old men offer their condolences. Instead of feeling the sadness and depression normally caused by death, he registers the reactions of others; I picture him staring blankly ahead. He barely does any action; his mother “held my hand in hers,” because the boy is too shocked to reach out. Both parents already experience grief, but the son merely observes them. The father cries and the mother “coughed out angry tearless sighs.”
The speaker’s analysis of his brother’s body shows distance and more observation, which continues to contribute to the blank tone. The young man once again notices details such as the time when the ambulance with his brother’s body arrives. He calls the body a “corpse” which demonstrates an emotional detachment from the body. The mood changes as the speaker walks into the calm, “soothing” room; the brother starts to feel the overwhelming sadness, but he continues to study the corpse. He observes that the little boy is “paler now,” and the “now” shows the sudden realization that the boy is dead, that now is different from the boy he saw six weeks ago. He sees the little boy in his coffin, but remembers the boy laying sleeping in the same room very recently. He studies the body, noticing the “poppy bruise” and lack of “gaudy scars.” Until the speaker walks into the room, he doesn’t feel the full extent of the loss of his brother. He walks around blankly, in shock, until the realization that his 4 year old brother will never again to run around in the street, full of liveliness.
The speaker’s blank tone and calm observance of his brother’s funeral represents the effect of sudden loss on people. He remains in shock until the last line, “A four-foot box, a foot for every year.” This is the precise moment when the speaker realizes that this little boy is never coming back.
I sat all morning in the college sick bay
Counting bells knelling classes to a close,
At two o'clock our neighbors drove me home.
In the porch I met my father crying--
He had always taken funerals in his stride--
And Big Jim Evans saying it was a hard blow.
The baby cooed and laughed and rocked the pram
When I came in, and I was embarrassed
By old men standing up to shake my hand
And tell me they were "sorry for my trouble,"
Whispers informed strangers I was the eldest,
Away at school, as my mother held my hand
In hers and coughed out angry tearless sighs.
At ten o'clock the ambulance arrived
With the corpse, stanched and bandaged by the nurses.
Next morning I went up into the room. Snowdrops
And candles soothed the bedside; I saw him
For the first time in six weeks. Paler now,
Wearing a poppy bruise on the left temple,
He lay in the four foot box as in a cot.
No gaudy scars, the bumper knocked him clear.
A four foot box, a foot for every year.
Commentary:
In the poem “Mid-term Break,” Seamus Heaney creates a blank tone to promote the theme that sudden loss causes shock and makes people act differently. The speaker, a college student, returns home for a break to attend the funeral of his 4 year old brother. He experiences the ultimate, untimely loss of a family member, and his observation of the many emotional responses to that loss emphasizes the strange reality of a world that doesn’t contain a loved one.
The speaker notices the emotions of others, but he seems to simply observe, because he lacks the typical emotions caused by the loss of a family member. The title of the poem, and the first stanza, imply that the “break” is a vacation. Usually students are very impatient when they are about to leave school for home, and the speaker exhibits this behavior as he waits “all morning” to be picked up, “counting bells” and keeping close track of the time. Heaney then surprises us with the fact that the speaker actually has a “break” to attend a funeral. The young man sees his father cry uncharacteristically, but he shows no sign of the same level of sadness. He feels embarrassed instead, as old men offer their condolences. Instead of feeling the sadness and depression normally caused by death, he registers the reactions of others; I picture him staring blankly ahead. He barely does any action; his mother “held my hand in hers,” because the boy is too shocked to reach out. Both parents already experience grief, but the son merely observes them. The father cries and the mother “coughed out angry tearless sighs.”
The speaker’s analysis of his brother’s body shows distance and more observation, which continues to contribute to the blank tone. The young man once again notices details such as the time when the ambulance with his brother’s body arrives. He calls the body a “corpse” which demonstrates an emotional detachment from the body. The mood changes as the speaker walks into the calm, “soothing” room; the brother starts to feel the overwhelming sadness, but he continues to study the corpse. He observes that the little boy is “paler now,” and the “now” shows the sudden realization that the boy is dead, that now is different from the boy he saw six weeks ago. He sees the little boy in his coffin, but remembers the boy laying sleeping in the same room very recently. He studies the body, noticing the “poppy bruise” and lack of “gaudy scars.” Until the speaker walks into the room, he doesn’t feel the full extent of the loss of his brother. He walks around blankly, in shock, until the realization that his 4 year old brother will never again to run around in the street, full of liveliness.
The speaker’s blank tone and calm observance of his brother’s funeral represents the effect of sudden loss on people. He remains in shock until the last line, “A four-foot box, a foot for every year.” This is the precise moment when the speaker realizes that this little boy is never coming back.
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