call me big papa
That's one of the reasons I like Eliot reading it - he's got a strange and sinister voice. A hint of the serial killer about him, like Dr Crippen.
I thought at first you meant literal concrete but you mean the real, specific, located?There's something about introducing the concrete into a poem that is very potent I think.
Mary Woolnoth. Cannon st hotel. Lower Thames street. Greenwich reach.
I thought at first you meant literal concrete but you mean the real, specific, located?
I think what makes the wasteland difficult for many is the shift between layers of reality (the concrete of London vs the stone of the wasteland), allusion, imagination - and voice. Often without warning, abruptly, violently or just bemusingly.
No. The desert moves in. It happens, nothing else. No djinn in the boy, no treachery in the wall, no hostility in the desert. Nothing [...]I suppose the idea is that all this activity is covering up a desert waste. Which is a bleak view.
Pulp modernism.Yeah but may be now in the era of sampling, channel hopping, multiple tabs open on your browser, following link after link on a Wikipedia binge, this makes more sense to us?
Coil had this thing that they were not the creators of their music but merely conduits of stuff hanging round in the ether. You've just got to keep your antennae open, they said, and it comes.
I get a similar feeling reading the snatches and splurges of speech in the wasteland.
I don't think so as it is just the description of a stage. One of the 36 chambers you have to pass through. (Albeit the one we have been stuck in for 100 years or whatever) Read the grapejuice stuff. He's great at explaining this with reference to the relevant grail legends.As Luka said we're in the wasteland (the world wide waste land) - including us (would be) "intellectuals" with scraps of knowledge to hand and no clear path to making use of it. Nobody has a clear path actually.
I suppose the idea is that all this activity is covering up a desert waste. Which is a bleak view.
"Her brain allows one half-formed thought to pass..."