Sunday, January 27, 2008

Group 2

Brent R., David F., Donna N., Fredrik S., Marie D.

11 comments:

Anonymous said...

Dear Group Members:
Hello, I am Donna N., a Master’s candidate in English Literature at Clemson University. My background in poetry is quite limited—an undergraduate course in British Literature from the Romantic to 20th century periods. Currently I am enrolled in Dr. Young’s course in Victorian poetry—both British and American poets are studied, with a focus on British.
Emily Dickinson is one of America’s most famous poets, and like many women of her day, went virtually unnoticed during her lifetime. The poem I will discuss is “I taste a liquor never brewed.” This is an excellent representation of her particular style of four-line stanzas with an ABCB rhyme scheme, and, composed in 1860, is one of her happier works. It was not until the late 1860s that she began to become reclusive, and her poetry would reflect her preoccupation with death and immortality.
Dickinson was known for using strong, sharp language, and this poem is a good example of such. She has displayed nine different words with reference to the indulgence of alcohol (liquor, alcohol, inebriate, debauchee, reeling, drunken, drams, drink, tippler). Checking the Webster’s Seventh New Collegiate Dictionary, I found the second meaning of the word “inebriate” to be exhilarate, or exhilaration, which I have determined to be the focus of her poem. She is so exhilarated by life and nature that she vows to “drink the more!” (12) until “Seraphs swing their snowy Hats” (13). Dickinson has used some of her favorite topics in nature—bees, butterflies, and flowers—to emphasize her strong positive emotions about life.
It is interesting to follow the development of the poem from the narrator taking just a “taste” (1) of liquor, to becoming a “Debauchee” (6) and then “the drunken Bee” (9), and finally settling in to being “the little Tippler / Leaning against the – Sun - ” (15-16). One can picture the poet dancing in her garden on a beautiful spring day.
I look forward to hearing from all of you.
Best wishes,
Donna N.

Anonymous said...

Hello Group
My name is Marie D and I study engineering physics at undergraduate level at Chalmers University of Technology. This is the first literature course I’ve ever taken, except for a really short one in high school, so analyzing poetry is quite new to me. However, I’ve always loved reading (mostly fiction though) and it’s really nice to do something other than math for a change.
I’ll discuss the second poem, “Tell all the Truth but tell it slant”, simply because I liked it the most. For me, analyzing texts always begin with that immediate sensation; do I like it or not? After that I can identify what it was I liked or disliked, and that way I work my way into the poem. So that’s the pattern this text will follow.
The language has an elegant flow to it and a very clear rhythm. In very few words it pinpoints that well known but often forgotten truth: sometimes you have to reveal things to someone slowly, sometimes “the truth must dazzle gradually”. Everybody knows what reaction you’d get if you’d talk to your best friend and suddenly blurt out “Oh, by the way, I slept with your girlfriend last Saturday.” I think this is made very clear in the word ‘slant’. Oxford Advanced Learner describes its meaning as “to slope or to make sth slope in a particular direction or at a particular angle”, but also “to present information based on a particular way of thinking, especially in an unfair way”. Not only do you have to beat around the bush and set the stage for that big chunk of truth, you might want to shape it slightly in your favor. For their convenience of course. Maybe we can’t handle too much truth at one time?
Well, my 250 words are up. I’m looking forward to your letters.
Best wishes
/ Marie

Anonymous said...

Greetings,

Both to those I do know and those I don’t—my name is David F. and I’m a Master’s student in the Literature program here at Clemson University. I’m taking part in this discussion as a member of Dr. Young’s Victorian poetry class. I’ve studied literature of the Victorian period before, including Dickinson’s work, but never on this academic level. My literary interests are frighteningly wide-spread—I’ll never be able to decide on a point of specialization—but included are medieval literature, Romantic poetry, American realism/naturalism through the 1950’s (Mark Twain, Stephen Crane, T. S. Eliot, Ralph Ellison, etc.), and literary theory and criticism.
As for Miss Emily, I find that when I read her poems, I feel that she’s looking back at me smiling slightly, with mischievous eyes. It’s as if she knows how clever she is and is daring me to mess with her. But she’s a wonderful playmate, even if she’s smarter than me, so I run into it each time. Indeed, she does not disappoint—in the first poem, what are “Frankfort Berries” (3)? Dickinson wouldn’t have just thrown something this specific into her poem; that is, she had a reason for using the term “Frankfort berries.” If anyone has an answer to my question, let me know. Obviously, it is a reference to an ingredient in the production of some kind of liquor, but why particularly “Frankfort Berries”? Maybe I’m reading too much into the term. Nevertheless, the entire poem is a compelling description of pastoral bliss reflecting the speaker’s own ecstatic observation and experience of the world, at least in her mind’ eye. The rapidity with which she switches and blends her descriptions (metaphorical and otherwise), so it seems to me, is one of the two primary techniques she utilizes in this poem. When reading this poem, one has the distinct impression of “Reeling” (7) like the speaker as she refocuses from snapshot to panorama, to snapshot and back again. In the first stanza, we look at small things, things capable of being held—“tankards (drinking cup)” and “berries.” In the second stanza, the speaker’s lens pans upward and loses focus—we have broad terms, things which cannot be held in hand, such as air, “Dew” (dew cannot be held in the same sense as a cup), “summer days,” and blue skies. The speaker finds herself “Reeling,” trying to take in the vast panorama (literal and figurative) that surrounds her, but she cannot because it is “endless” (7). In the third stanza, she refocuses on the small, concrete things—bees, flowers, and butterflies. The poem comes to a whirlwind finish in the fourth stanza, which begins with a split focus, looking simultaneously toward the ground, at the flowers commonly known as “Seraphs,” and toward the sky, when “Seraphs” is read to refer to angels (Seraphim). In contrast, the next frame rejoins the split-image by bridging the distance gap—the “Saints” of line 14 are both human faces and flower box specimens. It is interesting to note that to rejoin the two lines of sight, the terrestrial and celestial “Seraphs,” the poet has to find a point between both; therefore, “Saints” are neither on the ground nor in the heavens. Much could be said about Dickinson’s meaning when one considers that the “Saints” who watch and likely judge her, the “little Tippler” (15), are separated from the glorious “inns of molten Blue”—that is, nature or the natural order of things and Heaven itself—by their encapsulating “windows” (14). Their ways are neither natural nor celestial. While the sinful, little Tippler is “Leaning against the – Sun – ” (15), connected both to it and the earth, the glass-encased saints strain to lean toward the life-giving light from the constraints of their comfortable lives. This image of photokinesis, in which the flower can only move so far in response to the light, reflects the plight of those would-be saints at the windows. The people are even worse off than the flowers, for the flowers were planted there and had no choice about it, while the “saints” imprison themselves by choice.
The quick, intense focusing and refocusing technique employed in the poem results in a dizzying effect. Yet, if you let it, the poem will play out in your head like a short film. Watch it a couple times and let me know what you see.

Yours,

David F.

Anonymous said...

Hi again everybody,
Your comments on the poems were really interesting to read. They (and I must admit that I peeked at some of the comments in other groups as well) shed light on quite a few aspects I hadn't considered before.
David, I think some of my thoughts when I read “A taste a liquor never brewed” were a lot like yours when you say that “When reading this poem, one has the distinct impression of “Reeling” (7) like the speaker as she refocuses from snapshot to panorama, to snapshot and back again”, only I couldn't articulate the sensation clearly until you wrote it. I got the impression of Dickinson sitting outdoors, looking at the beautiful nature and putting in her poem anything and everything she happened to see at the moment and loved (or maybe, as Donna wrote, “dancing in her garden on a beautiful spring day”). 'Reeling' is the better word, bringing together both her playing with words in the poem and the emotions it induces.
Writing about emotions, I come to think about what you, Donna, wrote in your letter about the joy and happiness in this poem. “She is so exhilarated by life and nature that she vows to 'drink the more!' ” It is in sharp contrast to the kind of calm melancholy and the musings about death and eternity in “Because I could not stop for Death”, and still both are written in the same year. Of course your mood go up and down during a year, but I find them so very different. And at the same time - the way she obviously loves life in the first poem, you'd think she'd be sadder at the thought of death. Instead she seems calm and almost content. Maybe that changes later in her life, as you wrote that her preoccupations with death didn't begin until later.
As for the multimodal part, I feel quite uninspired. Nothing specific came to my mind when I read the poems, and to force an image would be a bit strained. And probably part untrue. But a good picture would probably include something like a grassy hillside on a summer day, a young woman in white clothes on this hillside, looking at the scenery in front of her. Some trees, probably some of them apple trees or something like that. All of it with a kind of romantic fairy tale feel to it. All of it somewhat like the impression I got of her situation, with a touch of late 19th century pink fluffy clouds.

Some time spent on Google, btw, seems to indicate that 'Frankfort Berries' refers to a really good German wine.

Until Friday, best wishes
Marie

Anonymous said...

Hello again,

I particularly enjoyed David's view of the first poem--through the lens of a camera. However, I don't get the feeling that Dickinson's Saints are judging, but are rather enjoying their view. They see the "little tippler" appreciating God's beauty--the flowers, the butterflies, the morning dew, and the sun--everything that is put here for humans to enjoy. Above all, the Saints are forgiving, and a little happy "Reeling" would not disturb them.Emily knew this as she also knew that to "Tell all the Truth, but to tell it slant" would be acceptable.

Marie points out that slant can mean "to present information...in an unfair way." but, of course, this can be turned around to what Ms. Dickinson's intent is--to present information in a careful way, so as not to disturb unnecessarily. As I reread this poem, it seems to me that she definitely had children in mind. We all know how careful we must be when explaining a difficult concept to a young impressionable child.

Emily Dickinson, not unlike her poetic contemporaries,was fond of the truth and careful to display only the truth. Note that the word "Truth" is capitalized wherever it is used in this poem. Dickinson had an understanding of human nature that allowed her to look beyond the absolute truth and to the importance of sensitivity when dealing with emotions. And, as Marie suggests, even adults need some tender care when being confronted with the truth--"dazzle gradually / Or every man be blind - ."

Best wishes,

Donna

Anonymous said...

Dear Folks in Group 2 and Group 3,

Blog discussions continue today (Wednesday) and again on Friday. Our groups have become unbalanced. Groups 2 and 3 will become one combined group, but we won’t change the structure on the blog. Everyone in Groups 2 and 3 should remain in his or her assigned group, but read the messages from both groups, and then write response letters as if you are in one conversational group, mentioning students and ideas from both groups as appropriate. However, only post your letters in your original group to avoid duplication.

Thank you for your understanding. Art Young, Magnus Gustafsson, and Donna Reiss

Anonymous said...

If only I had studied “Dickenson” in a huge well known English department earlier in my career, perhaps my posting would be far more grand (and grammatical) than it currently is. For this sin, of my many, I apologize—elucidating the gentle recluse without such a celebrated prior apprenticeship is nigh impossible, and barely forgivable. Yet, since Dr. Young judges us competent, I will continue in my humble way to explore these examples of Dickinson’s poetry with what little glimmers of understanding I am fortunate enough to have stumbled upon.
I duly enjoyed reading the many and varied posts in our super-group—by the way, since this is now a super-group (as it is the joining of two smaller groups), we need a name to denote our special status (“Super-Group” is fine with me, but I’m open to more imaginative ideas). Marie, I particularly enjoyed your post because it is so refreshing to hear literary thought and criticism from someone outside the formal process of literary study. I’d love to hear if and how the way you usually look at the world—that is, on the academic level from a scientific viewpoint—affects the way you read Dickinson, or poetry in general. If I may echo Brent in his response to your post, I, too, enjoyed your rather poignant way of explaining “Tell all the Truth but tell it slant.” Your introduction, in which you offer a modest disclaimer about your literary abilities, is coyly undercut by how succinctly you phrase your understanding of the poem. I agree with your understanding. Note how Dickinson seems to offer a Biblical allusion in the last couple of lines. The “Truth” which “must dazzle gradually” hearkens to the story of the St. Paul (then, the very un-saintly Saul) on the road to Damascus. Along the way, Christ suddenly appears to Paul, blinding Paul’s eyes with celestial radiance. Even Christ, who Dickinson offers as a representation (and I wish to make clear, only as a representation) of “Truth,” must be unleashed upon on unsuspecting would ever-so-slowly (please note, I am not suggesting that Dickinson is making a direct comparison between Christ and “the Truth”).
Donna, unfortunately, since you are in this MA program, you have no excuses—other than our collective sin of seeking enlightenment in Daniel instead of Williams. Joking aside, I found your highlighting the progression of Dickinson’s word choice describing her “inebriation” very enlightening. I had not noticed how consistently she references the level of her “inebriation” as it rises in response to the intoxicating effects of experience on a mind that is in love with life.
As for my multimodality, please explore the address given in the following. The address will take the lucky party that does explore it to a site in which that party can view Caravaggio’s rendering of Paul’s experience on the road to Damascus. This painting illustrates my previous comments about Dickinson’s biblical allusion at the end of “Tell all the Truth but tell it slant.” One can almost feel Paul’s (humanity’s) confusion and shock when confronted by the blazingly-brilliant power of Christ’s (truth’s) revelation before him (us).

http://www.bc.edu/bc_org/avp/cas/his/CoreArt/art/bar_cvggo_conv2.html

Anonymous said...

Dear Folks (Grp 2 and 3):

First let me ad my multicultural site. There is a Monet painting that, although not a perfect representation of Emily dancing in her garden, is the one that comes to mind when thinking of her in her "intoxicating" garden--"La Promenade." It can be found at http://www.ibiblio.org/wm/paint/auth/monet/first/mo

Anonymous said...

Dear Group Members:

Finally, I would like to respond to Olof's second message concerning "Tell the Truth." This is such a short sweet poem that I can't help but think it is a bit less deep than some of Ms. Dickinson's others. Rather than the "big truth" that Olof questions, I would suggest that the poem concerns the particular problems of telling the truth to a child, or even an adult, but without causing fear or hurt. And I can't help but wonder if Dickinson isn't convincing herself as much as the reader that it is okay to "tell it slant." As Jana states, Emily Dickinson is known to believe in "the importance of truth and of telling the truth," but the sensitive poet understands the need to tell it gently. Why she may have just come in from tiptoeing through her garden as the skies began to darken for a storm, her thoughts turning to earlier childhood fears of lightning.

I have looked at the multimodal comments; it is fascinating to me how very different they are. We have all read the same poems but have come up with such a variety of ideas of how we view them artistically. I especially enjoyed Olof's reference to the film of cell migration and would like to add that listening to Beethoven's 5th piano concerto in the background would top it off!

This has been a thoroughly enjoyable process.

Best wishes to all,

Donna N.

Anonymous said...

Hello Super Group,
Last letter this one… It feels a bit sad. It’s been very interesting to see the many ways you can interpret one poem, and still find proof for it in the text. That is one thing I always have to keep in mind when I do these things, because (and here comes my answer to your question, David, about the scientist’s view) I always assume there’s this one correct answer that you’re looking for. Just like two plus two always will be four. A big part of me still thinks that there’s one correct interpretation, which would be what the author intended with the text. The “Truth” about the text, so to say, the only worthwhile pursuit. But other interpretations can be rewarding to, and maybe the truth about at least poetry is better off a bit slant. A whole different discussion anyway.
I really enjoyed Olof’s film about the cell migration. Most of the other multimodal complements were old things, including my own, so it was refreshing with something modern. It would be condescending to say that Dickinson belong to the past without any relationship to today.
Brent, having studied a bit of philosophy, I’d love to discuss the objectivity of truth until our ears fell off. Since that’s both a bit off topic and you’ve used up your last letter I’ll leave that, but I just have to say that your distinction between telling all as in telling everybody their personal truth and telling all as in telling all of the true truth (or perhaps tell all as in make sure you preach the one true truth to each and everyone) gave the poem a nice twist. But the amused irony is sure there.
There’s so much to comment among what all of you’ve said, and choosing between all that I feel I’ve managed not to comment anything at all properly in this last letter. But deadline for this was one hour ago, so I better get it posted.

I’ve had fun. Have a nice weekend
Best wishes
/ Marie

Anonymous said...

Super-Group,

You’ve been wonderful. I hope after tonight, all of us still remember that there are other people in this world who think about Death, Truth, and poetry besides those immediately around us. There is some small irony in the fact that we’ve met, discussed, and shared and now that the assignment is over we’ll probably never encounter each other in a similar way ever again. Emily would keep on writing letters.

Olaf, I did watch the nerve cell migration clip, and like the others who viewed it, I too was impressed. Watching the clip, I couldn’t help but see it as a response of sorts to Dickinson’s “Because I could not stop for Death.” The movie made me ask myself, “In what way does Dickinson depict death?” Or, in other words, what, if anything, does Dickinson say about the awe-inspiring phenomenon of life in the face of death’s inevitability? Death’s “Carriage,” is the dynamic, or the vehicle—perhaps, the finite power of our biological selves—which carries with it ourselves and “Immortality.” So within this one construct, our finitude, we carry both the inevitability of our own self-destruction and our continued existence. We die, but we continue, through our progenitive power and memory. The children of the third stanza bear witness to the fact that the dying adult “could not stop for Death.” Those children will die one day, but they, too, will not stop for the mere necessity of dying, for their children and their children’s children will be playing in the schoolyard, then. Those nerve cells, in the sheer improbability of their dance, testify to life’s inevitability. I find it no coincidence that Dickinson frames her poem with two related concepts: the first stanza ends with “Immortality,” and the final stanza ends with “Eternity.”

Brent, Poussain’s “Et in Arcadia ego” complements your points well. The conflicting imagery of the cold, solitary tomb and the vibrant, youthful company brings to mind questions similar to those I asked previously and reminds me of Olaf’s nerve cell film clip. It seems to me that Poussain and Dickinson share the feeling that humanity can still aspire to immortality in spite of mortality. Your note on the painting adequately depicts our situation, that “in the midst of death, of course, we are in life.”

David F.