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3.98 AVERAGE
3.98 AVERAGE
Este señor es un genio. Demasiadas referencias que construyen tragedias. Me gustó muchísimoo
dark
medium-paced
challenging
reflective
tense
fast-paced
Plot or Character Driven:
N/A
Strong character development:
N/A
Loveable characters:
N/A
Diverse cast of characters:
N/A
Flaws of characters a main focus:
N/A
challenging
dark
sad
slow-paced
Plot or Character Driven:
N/A
Strong character development:
N/A
Loveable characters:
N/A
Diverse cast of characters:
N/A
Flaws of characters a main focus:
N/A
Read earlier this month, got total of 3hours class about it.
medium-paced
I feel as though I ought to be missing something. Either I’m frankly dull as a rock missing water or The Waste Land missed the spot for me. It felt like the incomprehensible ramblings of a street corner preacher — was that the idea?
reflective
medium-paced
challenging
mysterious
sad
medium-paced
I so intensely love Eliot’s first and last major poetic works.
Prufrock is a childhood favourite — my mother would quote sections to us at bed time from when we were very little, or recite it entire on those rare and golden evenings when one or two of us would stay up late working on a school project, and have mum to ourselves. Many of its lines hold great significance, contain resounding poetic beauty, and transport to deeply loved memories from throughout my life. It’s also extremely quotable, apt for many occasions.
Likewise, I love Quartets. Unlike Prufrock, the love was not immediate. My final year at Uni, when I read it the first time, studying abroad in the UK, I hated it. Could not understand what everyone else saw in it. But I gave it a second, slower read, and it was one of the most revelatory experiences of my life. Revelatory not in the profundity of the poem itself, though it is that in spades, but in the experience of going from hating to loving something so much, after simply attending to it again. I’ll admit I cheated and consulted a commentary… I cannot remember which, except that it was old. But the words of the poem came alive and I cannot unsee what I have seen. I love everything about Quartets, especially how much it repays with each reading.
And now we come to Waste Land. It’s meant to be Eliot’s pre-Christian masterpiece, and one of the most important poetic works of the 20th century. But I cannot get anything from it. No spark. Just ramblings.
There are a few perfectly captured images, and Eliot plays with his favourite themes re the shortness of life and mis-connection in (romantic) relationships. But no spark. Perhaps in time I will enjoy it too. In which case I will return here and change my rating. But for now, I do not like the Waste Land. Apologies to those who do.
Prufrock is a childhood favourite — my mother would quote sections to us at bed time from when we were very little, or recite it entire on those rare and golden evenings when one or two of us would stay up late working on a school project, and have mum to ourselves. Many of its lines hold great significance, contain resounding poetic beauty, and transport to deeply loved memories from throughout my life. It’s also extremely quotable, apt for many occasions.
Likewise, I love Quartets. Unlike Prufrock, the love was not immediate. My final year at Uni, when I read it the first time, studying abroad in the UK, I hated it. Could not understand what everyone else saw in it. But I gave it a second, slower read, and it was one of the most revelatory experiences of my life. Revelatory not in the profundity of the poem itself, though it is that in spades, but in the experience of going from hating to loving something so much, after simply attending to it again. I’ll admit I cheated and consulted a commentary… I cannot remember which, except that it was old. But the words of the poem came alive and I cannot unsee what I have seen. I love everything about Quartets, especially how much it repays with each reading.
And now we come to Waste Land. It’s meant to be Eliot’s pre-Christian masterpiece, and one of the most important poetic works of the 20th century. But I cannot get anything from it. No spark. Just ramblings.
There are a few perfectly captured images, and Eliot plays with his favourite themes re the shortness of life and mis-connection in (romantic) relationships. But no spark. Perhaps in time I will enjoy it too. In which case I will return here and change my rating. But for now, I do not like the Waste Land. Apologies to those who do.