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Bang Bang, Shoot Shoot

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I have not had a lot of experience with Emily Dickinson before this class, so it has been interesting to read some of her poems for the first time. One of my favorites is her “My Life had stood—a Loaded Gun—”. I am most intrigued by the poem’s central metaphor of women being guns. It encapsulates the oppression of women that is still prevalent in today’s world. Like when the gun is “identified— / And carried…away” (3-4), women are seen as worthless objects until someone, a man, decides to put value into them. At a quick glance, the speaker might seem to thrive in this role of submission. When she “speak[s] for Him— / The Mountains straight reply—” (7-8), meaning that the gun-owner, the man, wields her power to his own advantage. He does not need to talk while hunting or being out in the world because he has this forceful power that “talks” when it is shot. By evoking the image of wilderness with “Sovereign Woods” (5) and “Mountains” (8), a similar idea is presented that her compliance
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Church Going

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Of all the poems we have read, Philip Larkin’s “Church Going” is among my favorites. The structure, conversational tone, and imagery all facilitate the questions the speaker poses about religion.  As we discussed in class, the poem has a formal construction with seven stanzas, nine lines each, all in iambic pentameter. This strict format is interesting because it reflects the traditional, stateliness of churches themselves; just as the stanzas are solemn, so too are churches a place of stiff dignity (at least that is how we feel about them, or are told to respect them as). The contrast of the speaker’s relaxed tone is therefore emphasized and made even more humorous. He kind of knows what objects in the church are significant but does not respect them: he just walks up to the lectern and quotes a Bible verse louder than necessary. This was startling to read—you don’t just walk up there so casually! Even the echos that “snigger briefly” (16) seem to agree that he is not meant up there.
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Digging

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When I first read Seamus Heaney’s poem “Digging,” I didn’t really have any strong feelings about it. But, after our discussion in class I have a new appreciation for it. One of the things that struck me the most is the admiration the speaker has for his father and grandfather and the manual labor they do. It is by no means easy work, and it takes a lot of discipline and strength to do it. It’s interesting, then, that Heaney equates that work to his own as a poet. If the poet’s job is to reveal, examine, poke at humanity, then he is speaking to how demanding human nature is—especially how demanding it is to understand human nature. Humans aren’t what they are on the surface, you have to dig in for the truth, like you have to dig into turf to get to the good stuff.  As we talked about in class, I think the sound and diction of the poem is very fitting for the topic. Heaney is describing working Irishmen and the hard sounds of the words themselves are a “clean rasping sound”: “sinks,” “co
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Stop the clocks, the Songbird is gone into That Good Night

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For you, there’ll be no more crying For you, the sun will be shining  And I feel that when I’m with you It’s alright, I know it’s right To you, I’ll give the world To you, I’ll never be cold  ‘Cause I feel that when I’m with you It’s alright, I know it’s right And the songbirds are singing,  Like they know the score And I love you, I love you, I love you  Like never before               -Christine McVie, “Songbird” Today I found out that Christine McVie, a member of the band Fleetwood Mac, has died. I feel shocked by it. From what I can gather, this was unexpected and sudden. It is very weird for me because I love the band so much. I was lucky enough to see them live a few years ago, but now I can’t ever again, at least not in the same way.  Like what happens a lot when famous musicians die, I feel like I need to listen to all their music, especially the songs Christine McVie wrote. I already have, and I keep thinking about her one song off of the band’s album Rumours , “Songbird.” I h
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On my mind since the flood

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Sometimes, its important to get angry about things. Learning your uncle married your mother months after your father’s death? Yeah. Finding out said uncle actually murdered your father, the king? Sure. Taking five whole acts to work up to the courage to take revenge against your uncle? Yep.  But you know what you should really feel angry about? This quote from critic Lee Dewards about Ophelia in Shakespeare’s Hamlet : “We can imagine Hamlet’s story without Ophelia, but Ophelia literally has no story without Hamlet.” If you don’t get it, I’ll tell you why you should feel angry. It is true—so incredibly true. This is not just true for Ophelia but so many other female characters in literature. Now, I don’t know enough about Shakespeare to know how consciously he created Ophelia’s character, or if he knew just how much feminist critique would apply to her. My guess, probably not too much. Can I entirely blame the man, given the time he was alive in? Yes I guess probably not. But, no matte
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If you’re really bad at interior design, I need to know

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Here is what you need to do. Wait until it is evening. Take a nice little walk around the block. Maybe you’re feeling extra athletic and you decide to expand your jaunt a few more blocks, perhaps you even circumambulate the entire neighborhood. Stroll at a leisurely pace, enjoy the fresh air. But remember, it is also night, so you must be aware of your surroundings. Keep your head at a constant swivel. Oh, look at the squirrel over there. And do you hear the wind chimes on your neighbor’s front porch? Well, isn’t that a lovely little porch. Look at that wreath that have on their door! Oh, their curtains are pulled back, and the windows are open! That’s looks like a comfy couch. And they have the football game on! Oh, they must like that child the most since they have the biggest picture hanging on the wall. But that’s all you can see as you continue your walk. Until there’s movement in the corner of your eye that catches your attention. Someone else in a different house is walking into
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Hills, elephants, and Owen Wilson

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Whenever I think about Ernest Hemingway, I can only ever think about that one scene from the movie  Midnight in Paris . If you haven’t seen it, it is about this guy named Gil (played by the one and only Owen Wilson) who is in France. At midnight, he is transported back in time to the 1920s, and he meets all the famous writers, poets, and artists who were actually in France at the time—including Ernest Hemingway. This movie is very good, and I recommend it to anyone who hasn’t seen it yet. It has Owen Wilson in it! You literally can’t go wrong.  Here is the scene where Gil meets Hemingway:  https://youtu.be/3wM06z5lA74 From everything I know about how Hemingway was in real life and what his writing style is, I think this is a pretty accurate depiction of him.  Anyway, that was in the back of my mind as I read his story “Hills Like White Elephants.” I have read the story before in high school, but I think I could appreciate it more the second time reading it. It’s useful to know beforeha
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