Relying On Mended Walls

Robert Frost’s “Mending Wall” uses extended metaphors, the juxtaposition of different points of view and repetition to describe social barriers in communication and the futile intents against established cultural norms. By exposing contrasting perceptions about the subject and implanting hardship, the wall is shown as an unmovable and irreplaceable element of two individuals’ lives. The poem reveals itself as both the savior and critic of the wall’s existence, proving the difficulties of living under strict social constructs and the impossibility of change under such conditions.

Frost begins by showing the existence of a being that dislikes the wall: “something there is that doesn’t love a wall.” The hardship suffered by the wall throughout the poem, the “frozen-ground-swell under it”, the spilled “upper boulders”, the “gaps” and “the boulders that have fallen,” demonstrate the actions taken by this being. The decision taken by the narrator and his neighbor to rebuild the wall, shows the necessity for such divisor. The destructive force mentioned earlier is juxtaposed with the neighbors’ actions, exemplifying the opposing figures under any social or organizational system. The narrator describes how he talks to his neighbor in order to “set the wall between us once again,” a process that resembles a conversation that will finally lead to reconciliation. Frost highlights how this process occurs while having “the wall between us as we go,” proving the utmost necessity of the wall’s existence, even during peaceful times.

Furthermore, the extended metaphor of the wall, meaning the social constructs that provide for respectful relationships to be maintained, reveals the author’s thoughts concerning society as a planned and strict environment. The narrator states that his neighbor “is all pine,” while he is “apple orchard.” This comment mirrors a condition not shared by both neighbors. It is almost as though he were saying his neighbor was from a social class, religion or race different from his. Such division between the two characters can be maintained peacefully with the existence of the wall, shown by the neighbor’s remark: “Good fences make good neighbors.” The possibility that the wall’s existence makes for a “good” relationship simply rejects the idea of sharing or communicating with each other. Their interaction is on the basis of the walls existence only.

Similarly, the repeated use of the word “boulders” highlights the walls composition. The idea of the wall being structured with these boulders which fall on both sides consider both individuals’ mistakes and their commitment to having the wall built dividing their lands. This results similar to the repetition of the phrase “good fences make good neighbors” during the mending of the wall and in the end of the poem, as it exposes the resolute decision of having the wall on foot, ignoring the hardship suffered by the wall and the neighbors in its construction.

The extended metaphor of the wall as the culturally accepted rules of behavior and the divisor of individuals’ possessions, is used by Frost to show his disbelief about its necessity, while keeping it throughout the poem. The juxtaposition of the destructive force and the mending neighbors, exemplifies arguments caused by a social construct and the obligation of understanding both points of view. Even though order is reestablished with the mending of the wall, the author provides the critical view of the wall through the narrator and the attacks against the wall.

Death As A Mission

Kevin Young’s “The Mission” employs enjambment, life and death imagery and irony to portray the life of the living amongst the dead. The juxtaposition of moving beings and lifeless objects exposes the frivolity of grievance and the reluctance of accepting human’s final end. Young uses couplets which serve as concise and piercing pieces to the poem’s entirety, supporting the duality of existence described by the author.

The first couplets of the poem serve to contextualize the narrator’s experience with death, providing enough details to notice his fascination with the subject. The author juxtaposes the “funerals” with “afternoons,” showing the resemblance of the time of day with the death of a living being. Repetition plays an important role in the poem’s structure. Young describes how “soul / after soul” was “pour[ed] / into the cold / New England ground.” The structure of the couplets forces the reader to quickly move his eyes from one line to the next, mirroring the continual flow of people dying. The insignificance of each death, the lack of individual attention to each individual reveals the frivolity of burial.

Similarly, Young describes different actions within the same sentence with opposite adjectives, ironically portraying death. He states that while “children played tag / out front [. . .] bodies / snuck in the back.” The continual burial of bodies, juxtaposed with the children playing create an eerie sensation. The poem uses comic appeal to break the tension and anxiety caused by the discussion of death when describing how “the secondhand suits / that fathers, or sons / now orphans, had rescued / out of closets, praying / they still fit.” The enjambment between the words “suits” and “that”, “sons” and “now”, and “rescued” and “out” maintain the line of thought and provide a complete message.

Furthermore, the poem uses the damage of the “home’s clock,” the “Mornings” and the “dead / of night” to expose the significance of time in the death of a human being. It also creates a sequence from the moment in which the clock stops ticking, symbolizing death, to the mourning or grievance, represented by the word “Morning” and the subsequent forgetting of the human being, shown by the obscurity and solitude of the night. The grievance of death, is finally exposed by the ironical “sorrow’s / not noun / but verb, something / that, unlike living, / by doing right / you do less of.” The structure of the poem provides for a falling and curved path of words, much like the grieving process. Young emphasizes the word “sorrow” which receives its separate line, as though it were to much for it to handle.

The juxtaposition of living and dead objects, the ironical comic relief and enjambment provide a greater meaning to the poem. The ease with which the structure deals with the subjects of death and grievance portrays the poet’s approach to a human’s final moments. Repetition and descriptions of normal, routinely activities give the poem a sense of casualness and consolation during discussions of delicate topics.

Naming the Past

As I continued my journey through Song of Solomon, I kept noticing how significant names are for the development of the characters and the way each person responds to their own. As the book turned into the narration of Milkman Dead’s life, I concentrated on how he reacted to his name. As he ventures into his aunt’s house with his friend, Guitar, and her aunt mentions that there are only three Deads alive, Milkman becomes defensive of his name, “as though having the name was a matter of deep personal pride, as though she had tried to expel him from a very special group, in which he not only belonged, but had exclusive rights” (Morrison, 38-39). This response to her aunt’s comment reflects Milkman’s desire to know everything about his family and his past, truly searching for whom he really is. Milkman’s obsession with the past is not only seen during his visit to his aunt’s, but during the Sunday trips in the car, where he mentions that he doesn’t like travelling backwards as he doesn’t know how the trees and people got there, he isn’t certain of their path, their past. The protagonist’s rebellious behavior, when visiting his aunt against his father’s will, responds to his desire of knowing more about his family, his roots, himself.

Similarly, Milkman’s obsession with the past responds to his disregard of the future. During this same visit at his aunt’s home, Milkman concludes that his necessity of knowing what was behind him “was becoming a habit – this concentration on things behind him. Almost as though there were no future to be had” (Morrison, 35). Notice how the first sentence can be understood as the obsession of knowing about the objects that are behind him or the obsession of knowing about his past. Morrison uses this to implant the second sentence, reflecting another of Milkman’s thoughts. This reminded me of Borge’s short story, Funes the Memorious, where he narrates the story of a man who could describe every leaf of a tree he once saw, or learn Latin by only looking at a dictionary and memorize a book by reading it once. Funes, much in the same way as Milkman, tries to conquer his memory, understanding his past and making something useful of it.

Furthermore, Milkman searches for the origin of his last name by consulting with his father. Macon tells the story of how his father had to register with a drunk agent of the Freedman’s Bureau who messed up his name. He later says that his mother liked how it came out to be: “Mama liked it. Liked the name. Said it was new and would wipe out the past. Wipe it all out” (Morrison, 54). The reader might glance through each of those short-lived sentences without noticing how they mirror a true recount of something stored in one’s memory, how it comes by pieces, how it repeats itself. I find it interesting how Morrison highlights that “wipe it all out” piece. I suppose it refers to their previous life as slaves. Clearly, Song of Solomon deals with the social conflicts of a “free” people who adapt to white life. Milkman’s search for the truth behind his name and family demonstrates the necessity of knowing their new role in society and letting go of that which he is obsessed with: the past.

Names

Every once in a while, a novelist decides to become mysterious and deep in the naming of his characters. Tony Morrison, in Song of Solomon, dedicates a significant piece of the first pages describing a vast repertoire of characters and establishing ways to refer to each one of them. In some cases she includes names, in others their professions and even in some the activities they are currently undertaking. From the first character, the “North Carolina Mutual Life Insurance agent” the reader knows how significant the character’s names, professions and activities will be for the novel (3). This reminded me of José Saramago’s Blindness, due to the way in which he too, refers to the characters by their professions (the doctor, the doctor’s wife, the first blind, the thief, etc.).

Furthermore, Morrison uses references to the character’s activities for comical purposes. We are sometimes introduced to characters to only make some comment about the absurdity of the character’s situation: “the cat-eyed boy listened to the musical performance with at least as much interest as he devoted to the man flipping his wings on top of the hospital” (8). Notice how the author refers to the boy as the “cat-eyed boy” accentuating his intriguing look and his physical appearance. The same happens with the woman who begins singing in the street and the insurance agent who is further described by the different characters. The author uses different characters to narrate the story, making it more credible or complete as each of the individuals provide specific details of what’s going on.

Likewise, by using descriptions instead of names for some of the characters, allows the reader to identify which character takes what role in his family and community. For example, we are introduced to Ruth’s baby as the “deep” or “peculiar” one. Later on in the chapter, when Freddie interrupts Ruth while she breastfeeds her son and lets him fall out of surprise, we learn that “he had begun to suspect – that these afternoons were strange and wrong” (14). The reader must take into account these descriptions which foreshadow the role of the characters. The baby will possibly act as the critic of the families decisions, a voice of understanding and serenity in what appears to be an irrational and difficult situation. So far in the book the author hasn’t revealed a major motif, a protagonist of the story, a key to understanding the novel. So far, we get names.

Darkness: The Ultimate Barrier

There is a necessity to look beyond, to expand our frontiers, to conquer the unknown. Heart of Darkness, being a tale of discovery, of inner development, seduces us towards this necessity. In much the same way as King Leopold’s Ghost, we are exposed to the difficulties of travelling in the borderline between sanity and insanity, between white and black, the known and the unknown. In the first pages of the prologue, we are introduced to the uncertainties of Africa: “everyone knew that as soon as you passed the Canary Islands you would be in the Mare Tenebroso, the Sea of Darkness” (6). The wording couldn’t be better, we are once again, forced into darkness. The “darkness” of Africa for the Europeans of this era is much the same as the mystery being uncovered by a writer. Innovation in a sense is bringing light to what once was unthinkable, giving birth to new risks that burst with new forms of thinking and life.

Similarly, with the necessity of journeying towards and through the unknown, there comes a sense of curiosity, a thirst for knowledge and intense living. For the Europeans of King Leopold’s Ghost it might have been to know the “source of the Nile, a mystery that had fascinated the Europeans since antiquity,” for Marlow it was finding Kurtz, a truthful voice in a world of the unknown, and for a writer it probably is to relinquish or reveal the darkest memories, thoughts and opinions (7). The darkness filled by light becomes the words inscribed in the page, the knowledge, the observations, the memories immortalized from the ongoing movement of the light, who must find more darkness to absorb, to confess.

Furthermore, there must be a playground for all this activity. The setting for Marlow was the Congo, for King Leopold’s Ghost, the continent, the “faceless, blank, a place on the map to be explored [. . .] the Dark Continent” and for the writer the blank page and the pen (18). Menacing, all these places develop, constantly change, the Congo is not so unknown, the Dark Continent is not so dark, the blank page may not be so blank. Our thirst for knowledge might be quenched by an article, that miniscule goal of understanding how a plane works, might not be so exciting, but the attractiveness of surpassing darkness once and for all and flying further than ever imagined still exists.

Precipitating The Experience

As I think back on how Heart of Darkness impacted me, I remember how it was the tale of an experience. The way Marlow introduces Kurtz, along his journey to the heart of the Congo, makes it important to highlight how this is the story of a memory. The reenactment of what once was, and Marlow’s subsequent transformation. This mirrors the relationship between a book and a reader: What is a book, other than an experience? Being a world of its own, as many of my previous English teachers taught me, a book encompasses and creates a life of its own. The transcendence and immortality of the story depend on how well the author is able to describe, to create, to force the reader to think of an alternative existence.

The Age of Wonder does just that, creates a world of the scientists’ adventures. The way we conceive a book, roots in the way we use books to communicate the deepest passions, realities and dreams of our surroundings. Richard Holmes begins by narrating how an experiment in his early years, the precipitation of a crystal from mineral salts, has had the “eventual consequence, after many years of cooling, [. . .] to precipitate this book” (Holmes, xv). This book recounts the story of Joseph Banks, a botanist who found himself in Tahiti, and who’s voyage “launched an Age of Wonder” (Holmes, 59). Capturing the transformation of this character, the connection made between a Romantic appreciation of life and science becomes Holmes’ goal. In a way, the reader observes how Banks does the same as Holmes, they both dedicate their work to showing others the beauty that surrounds them, the possible reconciliation between spirituality and science. Even though Banks doesn’t publish “his long-dreamed-of Endeavour Voyage, or any full account of his time in Paradise,” his adventures, and the impact he had on those around him, mirror that of Marlow and in a way, those of authors in general.

Furthermore, the utility of books in our daily lives can agree with the author’s purpose of writing the book, appreciating the message, adopting some of their experience into our own lives. But the author’s free will can also use books to create chairs and flower bases, as this page promotes. The possible demise of reading, the tragic end of books as waste and part of useful objects reminds us of the finite quality of writing. As long as there are writers to publish their thoughts, experiences and imaginations, I believe there will always be readers to appreciate and be influenced by them in an infinite number of unique ways.

Describing The Unknown

For my last Heart of Darkness entry I wanted to pinpoint Mr. Kurtz’s development and meaning in the novel. I found it pretty difficult to narrow down to a sentence or two, so I will describe some of the elements that make Kurtz so special for the text. First of all, Kurtz guides all of the characters in the novel, they all have some impression of this individual and in a way they are all looking for him. When they interact with Kurtz, he takes over the conversation, as described by Marlow: “when encamped in the forest, they had talked all night, or more probably Kurtz had talked” (Conrad, 102-103). As the characters describe their interactions with Kurtz, they all seemed impressed by his ability to talk of just about any topic, and his facility to create new insight and impressive ideas. The reader’s interaction with this character rests in other’s words, the reader never interacts with Kurtz himself until his dying moments. I find it interesting how Conrad develops this urge to find Kurtz, which finally resolves in his own death.

Likewise, Conrad uses repetition to highlight important elements of Kurtz, specially his impact on others. By the end of the novel, Marlow describes how he was changed by knowing this character, starting “when the foundations of our intimacy were being laid – to endure – to endure – even to the end – even beyond” (Conrad, 123). The last piece of this sentence, combined with the repetition of the word “endure” helps the reader understand how influential Kurtz would become in Marlow’s life. The fact that Marlow has been the narrator for the whole story, that the reader has been able to know him and understand his thinking, accentuates such understanding. The reader is truly shocked by how powerfully Kurtz impacts Marlow’s life.

Furthermore, the reader needs some kind of assurance of Kurtz’s geniality. As Marlow describes his near death experience, he affirms that “Kurtz was a remarkable man. He had something to say. He said it” (Conrad, 132). The simplicity with which Marlow states his opinion of Kurtz, helps the reader imagine what it must be like to find somebody who is so confident of what he says and does, specially after having dwelled in the Congo for so long. The possibility of finding oneself, the real and true spirit behind all of our decisions and actions becomes this character. The journey into the Congo, the journey into the darkest and most remote places of our souls is the Kurtz we each have in us.