Walt Whitman is one of my favorites. I love poetry, and free verse is my favorite. I completely disagree with Robert Frost, as I believe that one can express more in free verse and create a more meaningful poem. When we talked about “The Wound-Dresser” in class, I looked towards Megan in a fit of glee. It was amazing that I restrained myself to only a few comments on the poem, because I probably could have talked the entire time. I mean, look at the amazing imagery that this man creates. He writes of how the soldiers’ “priceless blood reddens the grass the ground” (ln. 28) and the “refuge pail,/ Soon fill’d with clotted rags and blood, emptied, and filled again.” (ln. 32-33). I can almost visualize what he saw while he volunteered in the hospital. I, like many other people, have never been in or seen the devastations of war first hand, but back then people were surrounded by it. This poem paints a picture of the horrors of war, in that it is not just a representation of glory and honor, but of the injured and dying as well.
One of the most disturbing images that I found in the poem was in the third section when he was writing about the different operations that had to be done to each soldier. When he talks about how he had to “cleanse the one with a gnawing and putrid gangrene, so sickening, so offensive,” (ln.54), I was kind of grossed out. I do love the use of the word offensive here, though, because it can be applied in several different ways. The first, of course, is that the wound itself is offensive in smell. One could also take it to mean that the wound isn’t just offending the sensory organs, but the fact that is offensive that this person should have to suffer so much. If I think about it a lot, it makes me a little sick to my stomach, so off to the next section!
Ah, death. How bad of a situation does it have to be for some one to wish “come sweet death! be persuaded O beautiful death!/ In mercy come quickly.” (ln. 44-45). I don’t think that death is beautiful, but I’ve also never been in the types of situations that these soldiers were in. They must have been suffering an awful lot to wish for death, but this is something that I feel people have to experience in some form to understand, although I wouldn’t wish it on anybody.
Speaking of death, I love how the last image that Whitman leaves the reader with is that of a “soldier’s dying kiss resting on these bearded lips.” (ln. 65). What an awesome way to end a poem. It is almost like the story of the soldier is passed onto Whitman to tell through the kiss. It shows the suffering of the soldier and the duty of Whitman to explain the sorrow of the soldier to those not familiar with the atrocities of warfare.
Thursday, December 4, 2008
Fanny the Feminist
I believe that her Fanny Fern’s writings are the product of a disgruntled woman, and really, there’s no argument to that. Her own brother rejected her writings and encouraged others to do the same. She wrote “Aunt Hetty on Matrimony” in 1851, the same year that she left her husband Samuel P. Farrington, who she found “jealous, tyrannical, and repulsive”. This woman had every right to be disgruntled. And that’s why she’s a feminist.
People rarely question things when they don’t know that they could be different or don’t think that they have an option. Why would a housewife living with a leech-like husband think that other women have it any better? She’s probably to busy making dinner and cleaning up after the children and husband to talk to her fellow peers. Not to mention the vibe that I get from that time era makes me think that one wouldn’t converse openly about one’s private home life. I really have no basis for this; it’s just what it seems like. Anyway, Ms. Fern had it a bit different. From her biography, we know that she was married, had three kids, and then Husband #1 kicked the bucket. Apparently she tried to support herself by writing afterwards but couldn’t. Enter Husband #2. I think that Fanny’s feelings about Husband #2 are summed up when she writes “O, girls! set your affections on cats, poodles, parrots or lap-dogs; but let matrimony alone. It’s the hardest way on earth of getting a living”(Baym 1795). The sheer selfishness of the husband described is enough to drive anyone up the walls, yet so many women put up with it because they saw no other option. Well, Ms. Fanny Fern didn’t see it that way.
After leaving Husband #2 (gasp!), Fanny tried to crank out a living by writing. And as hard as this must have been back in the 1850’s, Fanny must have thought it was better than answering to a hungry husband. Plus, the parasitic relationship gave her something to write about. Having been married once before Husband #2 (thus making him husband #2), she got to see marital life from two different views. I like to think that she at least cared a little bit for Husband #1, seeing as she didn’t leave him. Imagine going from a person that you probably like at least a little to an atrocious mongrel. That makes for some good storytime right there. And the best part? Other women could relate. I don’t know how many women wrote regular articles in newspapers at that time about their horrible husbands, but I don’t think it was a lot.
In any case, Ms. Fanny wasn’t going to take that kind of nonsense. She left a repulsive man, became a single mother in the 1850’s, and \became independent and paved the way for women in a man’s line of work. She became self-sufficient, and even made Husband #3 sign a pre-nup. Ms. Fanny realized that she didn’t have to be trapped, and she looked for options that other women wouldn’t dare take. And for that, Ms. Fern, you earn the title of feminist, and a couple gold stars too.
People rarely question things when they don’t know that they could be different or don’t think that they have an option. Why would a housewife living with a leech-like husband think that other women have it any better? She’s probably to busy making dinner and cleaning up after the children and husband to talk to her fellow peers. Not to mention the vibe that I get from that time era makes me think that one wouldn’t converse openly about one’s private home life. I really have no basis for this; it’s just what it seems like. Anyway, Ms. Fern had it a bit different. From her biography, we know that she was married, had three kids, and then Husband #1 kicked the bucket. Apparently she tried to support herself by writing afterwards but couldn’t. Enter Husband #2. I think that Fanny’s feelings about Husband #2 are summed up when she writes “O, girls! set your affections on cats, poodles, parrots or lap-dogs; but let matrimony alone. It’s the hardest way on earth of getting a living”(Baym 1795). The sheer selfishness of the husband described is enough to drive anyone up the walls, yet so many women put up with it because they saw no other option. Well, Ms. Fanny Fern didn’t see it that way.
After leaving Husband #2 (gasp!), Fanny tried to crank out a living by writing. And as hard as this must have been back in the 1850’s, Fanny must have thought it was better than answering to a hungry husband. Plus, the parasitic relationship gave her something to write about. Having been married once before Husband #2 (thus making him husband #2), she got to see marital life from two different views. I like to think that she at least cared a little bit for Husband #1, seeing as she didn’t leave him. Imagine going from a person that you probably like at least a little to an atrocious mongrel. That makes for some good storytime right there. And the best part? Other women could relate. I don’t know how many women wrote regular articles in newspapers at that time about their horrible husbands, but I don’t think it was a lot.
In any case, Ms. Fanny wasn’t going to take that kind of nonsense. She left a repulsive man, became a single mother in the 1850’s, and \became independent and paved the way for women in a man’s line of work. She became self-sufficient, and even made Husband #3 sign a pre-nup. Ms. Fanny realized that she didn’t have to be trapped, and she looked for options that other women wouldn’t dare take. And for that, Ms. Fern, you earn the title of feminist, and a couple gold stars too.
Emerson and Inner Knowledge
Ralph Waldo Emerson seems to think that for a person to be truly knowledgeable, they have to look internally first. In his speech to that one college…hmmm….Harvard? yes, that sounds right, I guess I’ve heard of that one before.... he quotes Epictetus, saying that “All things have two handles. Beware of the wrong one.” If you’ve ever encountered this Epictetus dude, you’ll know that he’s a philosopher, and these philosophers like to ponder things. One of their favorite things to think about was what good was and where it came from. Well, old Mr. Epictetus here thought that pure good came from within oneself. I think that it’s safe to say that Emerson agrees with this. When Emerson talks about the degenerate state, he says that “when the victim of society, [man] tends to become a mere thinker, or, still worse, the parrot of other men’s thinking” (Baym 1139). The worst thing that can happen in Emerson’s mind is when a man becomes a parrot of other men and cannot speak for himself. Thoughts come from the inside, and when you just use other people’s thoughts, you’re not using that internal good that Epictetus talked about. Shame shame.
But don’t just think that you can go get on with your bad self just because you’ve got the good inside of you. Emerson thinks that we need to humble ourselves before God and nature. Emerson says that “Ever the wind blows, ever the grass grows. Every day, men and women, conversing, beholding and beholden. The scholar must stand wistful and admiring before this great spectacle. He must settle its value in his mind” (Baym 1139). When you’ve torn yourself away from Emerson’s amazing anaphora and cute little rhymes, you see that he understands that there are powerful forces internal and externally that shape a person. We all know that he loves nature (see his book Nature), and he connects this closely with God. Emerson writes “What is nature to [the American scholar]? There is never a beginning, there is never an end to the inexplicable continuity of this web of God, but always a circular power returning into itself” (Baym 1139). He then connects nature to knowledge, saying, “So much of nature as [the schoolboy] is ignorant of, so much of his own mind does he not yet possess. And, in fine, the ancient precept, “Know thyself,” and the modern precept, “Study nature,” become at last one maxim” (Baym). Oh snap, Ralphie. I guess this means to understand the good in oneself to achieve knowledge, one has to look to nature first. Then nature will help you understand yourself.
Cool.
But don’t just think that you can go get on with your bad self just because you’ve got the good inside of you. Emerson thinks that we need to humble ourselves before God and nature. Emerson says that “Ever the wind blows, ever the grass grows. Every day, men and women, conversing, beholding and beholden. The scholar must stand wistful and admiring before this great spectacle. He must settle its value in his mind” (Baym 1139). When you’ve torn yourself away from Emerson’s amazing anaphora and cute little rhymes, you see that he understands that there are powerful forces internal and externally that shape a person. We all know that he loves nature (see his book Nature), and he connects this closely with God. Emerson writes “What is nature to [the American scholar]? There is never a beginning, there is never an end to the inexplicable continuity of this web of God, but always a circular power returning into itself” (Baym 1139). He then connects nature to knowledge, saying, “So much of nature as [the schoolboy] is ignorant of, so much of his own mind does he not yet possess. And, in fine, the ancient precept, “Know thyself,” and the modern precept, “Study nature,” become at last one maxim” (Baym). Oh snap, Ralphie. I guess this means to understand the good in oneself to achieve knowledge, one has to look to nature first. Then nature will help you understand yourself.
Cool.
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