Saturday 31 January 2009

The Poet, The Scarecrow, the Dying Animal

I mentioned in class that I would post a reading/assignment/test schedule to Blackboard. It's up now. Once you have finished the selections from Yeats, you'll want to get started on Dubliners as soon as you can.

This week I would like to talk about Yeats's image/perception of himself as he ages, his feelings about Ireland as it does the same, and how he views the role of the poet, and the importance of art, in the Ireland of the future.

Remember what we discussed on Friday about gyres and cyclical journeys (including Nietzsche's idea of "eternal recurrence"). The later Yeats is a man who is aware that he is aging (you might want to look up "Steinach operation" to see the lengths Yeats went to in order to keep/restore his virility) but is also continually questioning his past and his future. He believes in reincarnation as well, and this is not something to be glossed over. Furthermore, as a very "public man" (as he refers to himself in "Among School Children"), Yeats believes that his life and his art, indeed the work of all artists, constitutes the soul of a nation.

Any comments that address these concerns directly or indirectly (or that don't address them at all, if you'd rather talk about something else) will be welcome.

7 comments:

  1. In the first line of Sailing to Byzantium I instantly recognized the phrase "no country for old men." This is one of the coolest parts of being an English major--discovering the deep roots our culture's current media draws upon. So this furthers my curiosity if there are any other current medias that have drawn upon Yates that would be easily recognizable to my generation?
    I also have one other question, which may be pretty far fetched, but I noticed that the date of publication of Sailing to Byzantium is within the same year or two of Yates vacation to Italy, and considering his artistic past and influence he would have visited the byzantine mosaics and such, and so I was wondering if there could be some latent bio in the poem, yeats being an old man, leaving his country, sailing to see byzantine art? Probably not. Just thought I shoot something out there though.

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  2. To address the question about the Bysantium art, I'd say that her certainly would have been schooled on the art. He spent several years in a prestigious art school before dropping out. His father, John Yeats, gave up a prestigious career as a lawyer to be an artist. Yeat's own brother is a renowned painter. Apparently, Yeats was really into and influenced by pre-raphealite art. But that wasn't the style that was "in" at the time he was in art school. There isn't any records of the paintings he did, which is unfortunate.

    BUT I'm sure the use of Byzantium was intentional. It might be because there is so much myth and legend surrounding the creation of Byzantium and that poem might be self-reflection of returning to a more mythical existence. Or perhaps its a reference to the wisdom of old age as Byzantium was an ancient greek city and the Ancient Greeks were, of course, known for their philosophy. I think he could have definitely been using the mosaics as a metaphor. I'm not educated enough on that subject of Byzantium mosaics to comment. That would be interesting though.

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  3. As Yeats aged, his poems lent more to his occultist interests and loss of innocence. For example, in Sailing to Byzantium, he understands that he cannot stay in “Ireland” forever (though he doesn’t mention it by name), since he will continue to age. And he would continue to age even when reincarnated into another body . . . the only way for him to stay would be to return as something that never dies . . . an artificial construct.

    Now, is this a sign of his occultism? Not alone, no. But I think it very interesting that he didn’t refer to Jerusalem or Bethlehem or any of the Christian “holy places.” I may be off, but his references to Grecian goldsmiths sounds more paganistic and unnatural than anything else. The only “golden” sign I can think of are the Ark of the Covenant and the golden calf. Are there religions that believe we can return as inanimate objects?

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  4. The first thing that stuck out to me in this poem was also the line "no country for old men." Just to echo what Melissa said, I also have noticed that so much of the media is influenced by literature. I have been astounded the last few years as I have begun noticing all the references in music, movies and tv to works of literature. I am amazed at how many popular movies are actually based on books. Almost all of them are. It is impressive how much our popular culture has been informed by great works of literature. And many of the naive think it's vice versa!

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  5. I think that it's interesting how most of us believe Christianity to be necessarily removed from occultism. This isn't me picking on anyone, just a semantic note: occultism, according to the online Merriam Webster dictionary, is simply defined as belief in or study of the action or influence of supernatural or supernormal powers." Again, I want to make it clear that I'm not being snarky or picking on any form of belief; while it may not be entirely relevant, I myself am a theist, but I just think it's interesting to note that, per the standard definition of "occultism," Christianity, as well as Islam, Judaism, and just about any other form of religious belief, monotheistic and otherwise, all fall under the umbrella.

    There's a comic book called Preacher that ran from about 1995-2001 (give or take). The concept of the series is incredibly complicated and difficult to distill (if you're curious, the Wikipedia summary is quite good), but one of the three main characters is an Irish vampire named Cassidy. Cassidy and his brother, Billy (named for William of Orange), were raised by a Protestant mother and a Catholic father, and they, in a flashback, are shown to have been a part of the Easter Uprising. Billy overhears Pearse himself quote Yeats, speaking of "A terrible beauty is born." This incenses Billy, who takes his younger brother away from the battle and leads him to safety elsewhere. Billy tells Cassidy of his suspicions of Pearse's motivations, saying:

    "Wasn't he great, wearin' his important uniform an' makin' his big speech? Just cryin' out for his place in history...people that're dangerous, Proinsias. They get yeh killed."

    In any case, I think it's an interesting point of view; it seems like Ennis, Preacher's writer, believes that it's all well and good for Yeats to romanticize the Troubles from behind a desk, indeed believing that the pen is mightier than the sword. But when Billy and Cassidy are talking about their Protestant Uncle John, who worked in the shipyards, they say:

    Billy: Here, d'yeh mind that story he told us? When him an' his mates were buildin' the Titanic? An' every rivet they put in, they shouted 'F*ck the Pope...'
    Cassidy: Oh Jaysis, Billy! D'yeh think that's why it sank?
    Billy: Aye, maybe. Or it could even've been that f*ckin' big iceberg it hit.

    There's a sort of nihilistic optimism in this, and I think that, while Yeats' earlier work had nothing of the sort, his later poems sort of accepted the finality of existence, and perhaps his belief in reincarnation was part of this.

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  6. As a PS:

    In re-reading the original prompt, from which my above post wildly digressed, I noticed an interesting idea: Daniel said that "...Yeats believes that his life and his art, indeed the work of all artists, constitutes the soul of a nation." I'm reading Christopher Hitchens' excellent biography of George Orwell. One of the things that always strikes me about Orwell, as well as with other English (and some American, for that matter) writers of his ilk/period, that it's hard to be romantic and focus on things like patriotism or valor (Orwell and Yeats would've probably used "valour") when you're being shot at with big ol' guns. Seems like the romanticism of these ideals may well be an especially Irish trait; this is not a criticism, but, at least from Yeats, as well as his frequent description of Irish revolutionaries, I get the idea that there's an Irish passion that contrasts the dry English detachment. I also think that Wilde, as a sort of English/Irish hybrid, can see both sides of this; after all, what's earnestness besides passion? Maybe Bunbury wasn't a mask for "deviant" homosexuality, but for a life lived with feeling instead of dispassion.

    Just a thought. Or several of them.

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  7. This is a great thread, guys. I'm really enjoying your insights and the connections you are making between texts. I was in a meeting a few weeks ago where some nameless faculty member was arguing that students don't engage in critical thinking anymore and, as a result, neither do the faculty. After deciding against firing a spitwad across the room, which may have done more to prove the point than rebut it, I considered referring said faculty member to one of my class blogs. Your thoughtful posts are even better than a spitwad.

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