This poem confused the Hell out of me when I first read it. The dark depressing imagery had no real rhyme or reason to it, and I found myself floating in a real sea of sad confusion. However, I went back and re-read it, as well as the introduction, Eliot’s notes, and many of the notes on context, and I truly was fascinated by it! The poem paints the dreary picture of life as we know it, and reading it within the context intended truly enlightened me and made me feel so scholarly and intelligent that I actually comprehended what was happening, to an extent. I was still confused at many points, but far less than I was during the first reading.

Perhaps the segment that I loved the most was in “The Fire Sermon.” The connection that Eliot makes to Buddha through this passage really gives one a lot to think about. “The Fire Sermon” discusses humanity’s need to give up earthly pleasures, to turn towards the spiritual. This is seen through this section, where at the beginning, we meet this image of the Earth, rotting, decrepit, and revolting, just as earthly pleasures may rot the soul. However, it ends with religious chants and phrases, symbolizing this turning from Earth to the divine. I suppose that maybe Eliot is trying to urge us to fall from this waste land of ours to turn towards the more idylic spiritual life.

In this passage, Eliot mentions Tiresias as well. At first, I was assuming that he simply meant something regarding Tiresias’ sight, according with the idea of spiritual versus Earthly pleasures. However, I read Eliot’s notes, and he states that Tiresias was actually one of, if not the most, central figures in the entire poem. I read the context, and I learned of Tiresias being forced to live seven years as a woman as a form of punishment. Apparently, Tiresias is supposed to symbol a universal joining of males and females, young and old, and intended to serve as sort of a universal representation of humanity. This fits well into the rest of the imagery of the poem, and I really appreciated that Tiresias serves more as a representation of the human, regardless of gender, forced to live in this waste land.

I know this is kind of a rant about reading context, but holy, I never thought that I would learn so much from a few extra pages of reading.

Unlike the blogger who said that he was pissed at buying a book he wouldn’t even read a quarter off, I wasn’t “pissed” at all. It’s one more book for me to add to my home library. I love it when someone comes, glances admiringly at all my books and comments on how well-read I must be. To be fair though, I have read most of the books that I own!

Anyway, while “The Waste Land” isn’t as hard to read as Nietzsche’s “On the Genealogy of Morals,” I had a hard time with it at first. It seemed like a poem that had no meaning (which, I know, is far from the truth). I read the poem for its imagery, and it did paint a “waste land.” It’s one of those depressing poems which you read, your head gets filled with sad imagery, and you have no idea what it’s about. That’s what happened to me the first time I read it. Hopefully the evening lecture will enlighten me! To get the full poem, I think we’d have to read the works the poem alludes to. But quite honestly, who has the time for that?

This is probably the shortest blog post I have ever written to date, but that’s because I didn’t fully grasp the poem. I’m going to wait and see how the magnificent Kevin McNeilly can illuminate this poem.

The good thing about being ahead in readings is that when confusion arises as to which text is supposed to read next week and which text after, you don’t care because you’ve already read both. Ha.

Anyway, I was rather surprised when I opened The Waste Land to find 20 pages of poem and 276 pages of other stuff that was not the poem. Was I a bit pissed at buying a book that I haven’t read nor intend to read a quarter of? Yes. Do I understand why they told us to buy this version? Yes. This poem is heavily layered with references to the point that you’d need a small library of books just to know where they all came from, and to those who like to go on wild goose chases (Eliot’s words, not mine) for deep inter-literary symbolism, this much is necessary. In my opinion, however, this is not necessary. What Eliot calls “incidental symbolism” is exactly that—incidental symbolism. You do not need to get the references in order to understand and interpret the poem. In fact, one might say that being too caught-up in the references will result in said references burying the point (and probably your sanity in the process). I have not read most of the texts that Eliot cites from; however, I have my own interpretation of the world Eliot has built in this poem. It is not disconnected. It is not nonsensical. It is a strongly coherent and masterfully woven allegory of human nature—whatever that nature may be. Honestly, I do not yet have a full grasp on the poem (having only read it about five times), but I know that a vision is there. Not a very reassuring vision, per say, but a vision nonetheless.

So…two hundred words to go. Okay. Originally, I was planning to just post a bunch of notes I wrote for this poem rather than a proper blog, but after looking them over and seeing how confusing they would be to anyone but me (because I wrote them, not because they’re particularly complex), I decided to save everyone the headache. Instead of that, then, I will give some tips on how to read this poem coherently without having to read a small library worth of texts beforehand:

1. Focus on the imagery. Imagine you’re watching an experimental movie or something and enjoy the pretty pictures. Ignore all that symbolism and allusion jargon until you feel you’re ready for it.
2. Take note of repeated words. There are a lot—a LOT—of key terms that show up throughout the poem, giving you hints as to where the connections are. My personal favourite is the transition from the repetition of “rat” to the use of “bat”; the word “wing” also shows up in-between, as if Eliot actually wants to make it easy for you.
3. Keep lines 1-18 in mind as you read. I am a strong believer in making a poem’s first few lines reflect the overall theme, and I believe Eliot utilizes that technique here. The not necessarily linear changing of seasons is a very interesting thing to keep note of as you read.

Have fun~

Wowza.

For me, this piece of literature was fantastic. A big theme that is consistent in this is the duality of human nature, but I confer it is even simpler – that being, duality in general, plays a big part in this novel. One of the example of this is just seeing how much we truly know about the text. We aren’t given another perspective of the whole chain of events leading to Jekyll/Hyde’s death other than Utterson’s, until the very last chapter, which is solely Jekyll’s written work. Another aspect of duality can be seen through the descriptions of the weather; The continuous occurrence of unpleasant natural elements (fog, “black winter”, coldness) throughout the book hints at the obscure secret that will become clear at the end of the novel, underlining Dr Jekyll’s psychological and spiritual loss. These weather elements show signs of duality – condensation and evaporation. In fact, most of the objects in general do – the cheval glass is a pretty good example, as it shows another side of view to one’s eyes by looking into it.

Other than that persisting theme, a few comments on the writing style – I didn’t quite understand why the chapter were split up how they were. I realize the book is short, but some chapters (like the final one) will have narrative over many events, while others will be simply desolated as chapters on the sole purpose that they contain somebody reacting to a note, or a small crisis otherwise. I did enjoy the different narrative perspectives though. Specifically  Jekyll and his statement of the case at the end because it runs in such a fast pace and successfully combines Jekyll’s thoughts leading up to particular moments we already saw while explaining earlier unanswered questions. I’d like to think of it as more of an epilogue than a concluding chapter.

Overall there are a ton of things to discuss about this story, which is quite remarkable for the short length. I will be reading this story again in my near future, that’s all I know.

Prior to reading Freud, I had no knowledge of him. Maybe that’s my fault for not being quite familiar with him or his writing styles, or his beliefs and what not.. but I didn’t know anything about him really. With that being said, I did however, find that his writing style wasn’t too difficult to read through. That he did bring up quite a few intriguing and interesting spins of particular topics. To be brutally honest here… I definitely expected some wordy, fancy, and elaborate essay of some sort, and the fact that this piece of writing actually appeared to be normal—made reading Freud less daunting.

In my opinion, Civilization and its Discontents was in my opinion, a pretty good read. I feel like I didn’t really “jive” well with the other philosophical texts that we have read thus far, (Arts One made me rethink my desire to potentially major in Philosophy…) but this one wasn’t too bad for me to handle. I found that one most predominant concept here in Freud’s essay, is repression to one’s self.  I found his opinions though perhaps a bit flawed or open to interpretation, were captivating to learn of.

“The whole thing is so patently infantile, so foreign to reality, that to anyone with a friendly attitude to humanity it is painful to think that the great majority of mortals will never be able to rise above this view of life.”

In more depth, I found the way in which he described religion to be particularly fascinating to me. Having come from an immensely religious family, full of devote Catholics, and having gone to a Catholic school my entire life.. Freud’s views on the subject of religion, and its impact and importance to people immediately struck my interest.  Freud touches on the idea that religion, and the way we rely on it for different things—be it to blame when things do not go our way, or as something to hold onto and believe in; to confide in. In spite of coming from, as I said, a pretty religious family… my  brothers and I didn’t really adopt that same devoutness I guess you could say. We are religious, but not nearly to the same extent that my mom and my relatives are. Essentially what I’m saying, is that I am not practicing. However, (there’s a point to this.. I swear!) when Freud discusses religion, it hits home. A religion is there to have belief in something, as a means of comfort… when times get a bit difficult, one’s religion is their rock; their shelter. However, Freud states that religion, and belief in God, or a different religious figure as a mere fault of humanity; which is what screws us up as individuals. I don’t really take what philosophers say to heart, but all in all, I did find his arguments overall (in spite of their flaws) to be pretty solid.

After a great seminar with the RealMcNeilley, I was informed that for the second time this week I had read the wrong text. Daisy Dolls and Metamorphosis are still fresh in my mind yet T.S. Eliots’ Wasteland still demands to be read, to which I respond: “No”.  It would be nothing short of a miracle if I could finish another text with the onslaught of work I still have ahead of me. So if you’re reading this thinking “There is no point in him writing this…”, I will counter your argument with the timeless rhetoric of “YOLO”.

Let me start by saying that either this novella or Frankenstein is my favorite text of the year. My reasoning behind it isn’t for love of allegory or symbolism and descriptive language. No, it is simply because both stories elicited a strong emotional response.  Man tears were not shed this time, but I did immediately toss the book from my bed in frustration (Spoilers, I did not dent my wall, that would be childish). Kafka’s absurd tale makes the reader feel tormented and persecuted through narration from Gregor’s mind. As Gregor, we experience his pain, frustration, but worse of all we feel undeserved self-guilt (callback to Freud). In my last essay I argued that Victor Frankenstein was one of the most human, yet most monstrous characters we’ve read, but that title now belongs to The Samsa Family. Let me briefly explain why, and also explain how they beat out a woman who boils a cat.

One of my favorite quotes (I have no idea, nor a desire, to recall who said it to me) goes something like this “If you kick around a dog long enough, it’ll eventually begin to ask itself what it did wrong.” That expression is Gregor Samsa in a nutshell. The young man feels so much love and compassion for a family that demonstrates so little gratitude, and next to no sympathy in return. He is willing to be the breadwinner and sole benefactor for his family (despite his own self-interests), who reciprocate this by turning their backs on him when he needs them most. The ending of the novella completely defies any kind of structure or expectation of a story arc. There is no dignified resolution for Gregor. His family becomes the unworthy inheritor of his due resolve.

The text is not the most bizarre novella I’ve read (That award goes to Daisy Dolls), but it is the most emotionally complex and confusing. It defies any form of human compassion, and that’s what really irritated me the most. Where’s the love, or the Eros? Who the hell are these people? No, what are they? Some would argue that art should not be valued by the emotional response it evokes. Many advocates of surrealism would say it is a cheap ploy, but screw em’. Some would also argue an important and vital factor of art is provocation, and this story certainly left a lasting emotional resonance. I thankfully doubt that this resonance will disperse before our Seminar on it (It’s 3 weeks away). Hopefully my title was provocative enough to make you give enough of a damn to read this long rant, and you don’t feel any resentment for my embellishment. If you do, good. I know that feel, bro.

So yeah, if any wants to talk about Kafka Tuesday I’m your guy.

As someone who had never previously read any of Freud’s writings, the only conception I had of his work was his incredibly uncomfortable familial sexual theories and perhaps a little bit of stuff surrounding the unconscious. Strangely enough, after reading Freud, it was one of the few texts within which I actually liked a large part of the ideas which luckily for me weren’t as complicated as I was fearing.

It was from his opening, talking about the oceanic feeling some people get when part of a religion, that I could tell that Freud wasn’t just obsessed with sexual theories, but rather had some really solid ideas. Funnily enough, I found out that I agree with a lot of Freud’s ideas and theories. While I’m not religious myself, I grew up with some relatively religious grandparents who often took me to grand Venetian churches to admire not only the religious aspect, but also the artistic aspect. In fact, while I’m not religious, I’ve almost found a bit of wonder in how devoted people are to their religion. I find it incredibly impressive how in many cases religion is an incredibly uniting factor for many groups of people. The feeling of being part of something greater is what it can provide (that “oceanic” feeling that Freud describes), and honestly, sometimes I’d like to be part of something like that.

While it seems easy to constantly criticize religion, it’s amazing the way religion has helped guide people’s lives. Part of my childhood was spent in Dallas, Texas, a hotbed of very religious people. And I remember after having sleepovers at friend’s houses on Saturday night, Sunday morning their family would take me to church with them.The first time I was blown away by the feeling of inclusion I found. Even though I had spent a couple of hours sitting and listening to a man tell stories which may or may not have been true, amongst the choir singing and praying around me, it was a nice feeling to be part of something greater.

But this is all slightly off topic from Freud. To sum up my experience with Freud, I was very pleasantly surprised. I think that while Freud and his theories had faults, many of them were extremely spot on. Part of the reason that some seem to dislike his writings is perhaps due to the fact that they don’t want to acknowledge that perhaps they do in fact have strong sexual urges towards their mother. I remember there’s an old Italian saying which goes along the tune of, “A man will always find love in a woman who cooks just like his mother”. While Freud might have left out the cooking part, in Italy there’s a noticeable and almost eerie pattern of men who marry women who are extremely physically similar to their mothers. Perhaps this is just a strange occurrence, but I’m of the opinion that Freud hit a lot of nails on the head in “Civilization and its Discontents”.

            The Victorian era is one that I love to learn about. They are such a fun group of people to research, I just love the pomp and the façade and the clothes and the fog and Sherlock and mummies and Jack the Ripper and Knick knacks… So fun!
            Anyways, I was really looking forward to reading Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde since it is one of those books people know the jist of. I think the lecture was a good one and I really enjoyed it. When reading the book I totally read over the allusions to prostitution and all that stuff. It was nice to go over that and some of the history regarding the Victorian Era. It would definitely be hard to understand the criticisms of the era if we did no know the context it was in! The part that stood out to me was the talk about the strictness in the era of not only practically everything, but the way even furniture is even dressed as it is too provocative.

            There was reminded me very much of Jack the Ripper, when Mr. Hyde was caught by the maid looking through her window and the police trying to find the culprit. Although the execution was not the same, but had the fog been there and the moon not so bright he might not have been caught in the act. Not going to lie, I love Mr. Utterson. He is just so oblivious. But rather I like how he perseveres in trying to help his friend out. Also how he has the best of intentions in what he does, even if only some of it is genuine, and that he does like to stick his nose wherever. As someone who knows what is coming it is humorous to watch him stumble along the clues. Although in his position I would probably have thought the same.

            I feel sad that we aren’t doing more books of the time, but now this book has me a list of books to read over the summer while I hang out in the sun and on the beach… I hope.

Well, after a bit of stress, I’m finally getting this post up. I almost consider Freud to be in the ranks of Frankenstein, Dr. Jekyll, or Beowulf. He’s so commonly known and referred to, that it seems impossible that an individual hasn’t at least heard of some of his ideas. In my opinion, while Freud is very interesting to read, I don’t trust anything he says. I’m fascinated by some of his topics and theories, but in the back of my mind, I’m constantly doubting their validity. This is because Freud is unprovable. His theories can’t be tested and I remember while reading this text, I found myself saying, “Prove it.” That being said, I think that despite it’s reliability, Freud offers very important glimpses into human nature.

Unlike Nietzsche, who was rather blunt and unlikeable in his views regarding religion, I found Freud to be a loveable atheist. His ideas regarding religion and the oceanic feeling actually made a lot of sense, and I found myself at points flat out agreeing with him. Religion really does put us back in that infantile state. One of the things I love about religion is that oceanic feeling that Freud speaks of. The idea that you aren’t all alone, but rather part of a larger, more significant community is something very comforting, and may explain the draws of religion to many people. Not sure if I agree with him that it’s a regressive memory, but I do agree that it allows us to lose the pressures of the superego, ego, and id, and just become a part of a seemingly more important moment.

Now, Freud’s views of humanity seem sort of cynical. His discussion of the universal ideal of loving your neighbour was really very depressing in a way. His views that we shouldn’t or can’t love our neighbours out of fear and knowledge that they’re just going to trample on us is rather harsh. Maybe it’s just me, but I believe that not every individual would be willing to harm you just for the sake of it. He’s rather depressing in his views of humanity…

All in all, I’m not the biggest Freud fan. Sure, it’s entertaining to ponder the mysterious motives behind our actions, but in reality, Freud’s theories are write-offs. It’s very easy to say AFTER something happens that that is the cause, but how can you prove it? I can’t really take Freud seriously, because there is no way to prove his theories.