After spending over two decades with this poem and reading countless secondary texts and background texts, contemporary texts, Eliot's other writings, above all continually thinking about this text over this period, I am NOW reaching some sort of a conclusion about my understanding of this work. It is a lament about a universal wasteland that the inter-war world had descended into (WWI came as a biger shock to human psyche compared to WWII, which although more destructive, had the effect of a softened blow because of the horrors of the previous War) and all the images, thoughts (negative or positive), memories and fears that this central theme could generate: a heap of broken images. There are religious, historical, cultural, psychological, literary, philosophical "echoes" throughout the text that point towards this loss of innocence. The poem moves like a vertigo and all these images rapidly drown into it. The movement becomes only faster as the poem moves towards its end, it becomes more and more chaotic but the theme of the loss of innocence, death, impotence, rape still remain omipresent and it all ends with culture, religion, history, literature, philosophy etc pointing at the revival in the very last stanza. 'This heap of broken images', 'these fragments' that the 'narrator' "shored against my ruin" at the end of the poem are themselves the redemption from sterility of modern time. This is Eliot's "Tradition", the combined and accumulated human creation that does not die but "undergoes a sea-change/ Into something rich and strange." Eliot, forever a traditionalist, believes that the combined force of human history and achievement would re-generate humanity. The poem is explicity universal. You can not interprate it on a personal level, at least not for a sustained period as Eliot himself walks in and out of the poem like countless other ghosts. There are no central characters.
Joyce's Ulysses, though published in the same year, provided the "mythical method" for Eliot to work on a mytho-poec structure. Ulysses can be interprated on many levels. "'History, said Stephen, 'is a nightmare from which I am trying to wake up'" (or something like that), there is no such desire to wake up in The Wasteland. For Stephen, the sound of the voices in the playground (humanity) is God. For Eliot, tradition is the God, the creator and destroyer, humanity's only defence against ultimate annihilation.


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