Poem of the Week '10

[Paulclem]

I'm not familiar with this poet, and I'm looking for a lead into the imagery he is employing.

The comments below seem consistent with the poem as read it. Clearly there are recurrent themes - the spinach, scratching, cartoon figures, and a narrative where Popeye has gone to live in the country whilst Olive takes sweetpea, but I'm unsure what he's getting at. Is it some comment upon the influence of screen culture on everyday life?

he characterizes himself as having been described as "a harebrained, homegrown surrealist whose poetry defies even the rules and logic of Surrealism

Although renowned for his complex, post-modern and opaque work

From his Wikipedia page.

[Paulclem]

So I'll post a poem this week.

Mr Bleaney by Phillip Larkin.

This link will take you to the poem, and a sound recording of Larkin reading it out.

http://www.poetryarchive.org/poetrya...do?poemId=7077

I like a jolly whizz.

[Silas Thorne]

Sorry for not commenting until now. I like this poem and the excellent use of enjambment throughout, though I get a little lost in the last sentence, which starts at the beginning of the second to last stanza. Also, the rhyme on 'nature' and 'sure' seems to be quite different from the perfect rhyming the rest of the way through the poem. Maybe I'm reading it with a different pronunciation to him (unfortunately I wasn't able to tune in to his reading of the poem in my office).
It's a rest home, right? I love the way he describes the room as 'one hired box', as if it was a coffin. As it has no place for books, no coathooks etc, it might as well be. The 'four aways' are the four holidays away from the place, yes? The frame seems to be the plan he fits into other people have organised for his days away.
It seems the narrator of the poem shares the same fate as Mr Bleaney described in the last stanza, as well as sharing his room, and that he reflects on his own fate through that man.
I'm not sure why he plugs his ears up with cotton wool though. Is there someone else in the room using the TV?

[Buh4Bee]

I also just got around to reading this poem. I think that Mr. Bleaney is a very ordinary character, although quite noble. I was also struck by the room description and lack of personal possessions and furniture. I suppose that is the way it is in an old folks home, who knows. I was wondering how the narrator is connector or related to the deceased. Maybe he is a son or a person who worked for him.

[Scheherazade]

Thank you very much for getting the discussion going, Silas.

It's a rest home, right?

My impression is that it is a rented room; something like a B&B maybe?

I'm not sure why he plugs his ears up with cotton wool though. Is there someone else in the room using the TV?

The persona in the poem is the person who rents the room after Mr B, I believe, and it was Mr B who had persuaded the landlady to buy a TV (or radio?) for the room. The new comer claims not to enjoy it but not sure why he turns it on if that is the case.

I was wondering how the narrator is connector or related to the deceased. Maybe he is a son or a person who worked for him.

I think the narrator is the person who replaces Mr B in the room. He gets to know Mr B through the landlady's chatter: There are speech marks in the first, second and third stanza, which indicate that certain things are quotes/direct speech.

I quite like this poem; it is quite interesting that even though the persona does not tell us anything about himself, since he is in a similar situation to that of Mr B's, it might be safe for us to assume that it is actually him who thinks that he deserves no matter than this bare room maybe? Rather poignant.

[Paulclem]

the rhyme on 'nature' and 'sure' seems to be quite different from the perfect rhyming the rest of the way through the poem. Maybe I'm reading it with a different pronunciation to him (unfortunately I wasn't able to tune in to his reading of the poem in my office).

I think Larkin is such a good poet that the last discordant rhyme is not a mistake. It's a good point, and perhaps it reflects the discordant feeling that the narrator has about Mr Bleaney, and himself, ending up like this. A rhyme can make a poem a thing of beauty, all sewn up and tidy, whereas Mr Bleaney's life is a bit frayed around the edges.

I think in the second stanza, ther Landlady is trying to convince the narrator to do the garden by implying
"Mr Bleaney took
my bit of garden Properly in hand"
whereas in fact it hasn't been touched as it is still
"...a strip of biuding land."

[LitNetIsGreat]

Good choice. I can't say that I have read too much Larkin at all, but I think I might dip into him after this one, if time and motivation permits. I agree with your phrase "grey around the edges" I was thinking that "bleak" would be too strong a word, but your phrase just hits it. I like the way that he almost lists the items as if scanning the room "bed, upright chair, sixty watt bulb, no hook" its all a bit, well, grey, dreary, sigh, can only afford a dim 60 watt bulb etc. I like the house keeper's natter which comes to us as Scher says, second-hand - second-hand, sort of sums up the mood of the poem really, in a purposeful way. Interesting.

[Silas Thorne]

I think Larkin is such a good poet that the last discordant rhyme is not a mistake. It's a good point, and perhaps it reflects the discordant feeling that the narrator has about Mr Bleaney, and himself, ending up like this. A rhyme can make a poem a thing of beauty, all sewn up and tidy, whereas Mr Bleaney's life is a bit frayed around the edges.

Yes, I was quite sure it was a deliberate thing too, I just wasn't sure why.I think you've made a good point here about the discordant nature of such a life.

I like the dark imagery of the 'flowered curtains...fall', which makes me think of wilting flowers.This links up with the general description of the place as a worn-down place of decay and death, such as the 'tussocky, littered, building land' , the 'fusty bed' and 'the hired box' (which gives the feeling of a coffin).

That the narrator draws attention to the absence of room for books, bags or hooks, and then chooses to take the room, is interesting. It seems he chooses the room due to the absence of these things. Maybe the narrator wants to get away from his life for a while, or maybe he doesn't see the point in these things any more.

The place is called 'the Bodies'. Maybe it is a place to cease to be a person any more and just be a body. If there is little joy left in life, perhaps there is no difference between being alive in such a place or being dead.

[Gilliatt Gurgle]

Thanks for sharing Paul. I too enjoyed it.
I was struck by the detail; "Fall to within five inches of the sill" followed by "...a strip of building land"
Perhaps the land is perceived as a strip created by the five inch gap between the sill and the closed curtains, as much as Mr. Bleaney cares to see of the "littered" land.

Who are "they" that moved him? His children that washed their hands clean of an elderly father by exiling him to a nursing home?


.

[The Comedian]

I've listened to this poem several times now and I really enjoy it --

Notes: I think that the "set" that Mr.B egged her on to buy was something that "she" -- the landlady, I assume, purchased for herself. Perhaps the landlady lives in the adjoining room?

The last few lines. . . .when the narrator reflects on the possibility that how we live -- our house or "hired box" reflect upon our own nature reminded me of Thoreau's discussion of how he selected his house in Walden. Of course the "Mr. Bleaney" narrator only offers this connection as speculation, then later backs off of it with an "I don't know" to end the poem.

EDIT -- of course, the narrator himself now resides, at least sometimes, in the "hired box" -- and these grim reflections most likely reflect those of the narrator about himself. . .and then he extends them onto Mr. Bleaney as a way to ask if he is alone in thinking that one's residence reflects "his own nature".

[Paulclem]

The persona in the poem is the person who rents the room after Mr B, I believe, and it was Mr B who had persuaded the landlady to buy a TV (or radio?) for the room. The new comer claims not to enjoy it but not sure why he turns it on if that is the case.

When I read this I thought of the TV in the sitting room being watched by the landlady - and the narrator trying not to listen in his room.

I always thought of the narrator as Larkin surveying the scene with his poet's eye. He typifies - for me - the fifties - a bit drab.

[Buh4Bee]

The mysterious nature of this poem can be deconstructed by a very close read. There are many clues that one can use to conclude the proper meaning. I found, after reading the thread and reading a few on-line resources, that the poem makes much more sense if one is clear who the narrator is and where the poem takes place.

It is not a TV, but a radio. One can read further here:

http://www.authorsden.com/visit/view...e.asp?id=16998

[Scheherazade]

I like the way that he almost lists the items as if scanning the room "bed, upright chair, sixty watt bulb, no hook" its all a bit, well, grey, dreary, sigh, can only afford a dim 60 watt bulb etc.

This listing of the items in the room almost sounds like it would in a newpaper ad for such a room but, ironically, instead of the positives, here everything -good and bad- is listed with a severe honesty.

Who are "they" that moved him? His children that washed their hands clean of an elderly father by exiling him to a nursing home?.

Yes, that's my impression too that he was either put into a nursing home or died and his body was removed.

It is not a TV, but a radio. One can read further here:

http://www.authorsden.com/visit/view...e.asp?id=16998

Oh, please don't do that. I really enjoy discussing poems in this thread and reading ready-made critiques somehow spoils it for me.

The word "Bodies" gives an eerie air to this poem. I even wondered whether our bodies and our presence in our bodies are compared to rented rooms ("hired box") at one point but I don't think they would work out well as a metaphor.

[Paulclem]

The reference to The Bodies sounds as though it may refer to some kind of firm. The strip of building land suggests an industrial environment, and, as Larkin was from Coventry originally, it could refer to the car industries. There was a firm I used to pass on the bus called "Carbodies".

The radio fits, but also a TV does too. I think the effect is similar.

The mysterious nature of this poem can be deconstructed by a very close read. There are many clues that one can use to conclude the proper meaning. I found, after reading the thread and reading a few on-line resources, that the poem makes much more sense if one is clear who the narrator is and where the poem takes place.

It is not a TV, but a radio. One can read further here:

http://www.authorsden.com/visit/view...e.asp?id=16998

Your link raises an interesting point about poetry Jersea. The link you posted still only represents the views of one person - or the accumulated views abosrbed by one person. In my opinion they have no more validity than yours or mine so long as an idea or opinion about the poem can be supported by the text, and perhaps references to the poet's biography. I think a poem should be able to stand on it's own without reference to the poet's bio though or it can't be a complete piece.

I'm of Scher's view - I think we can reveal the important aspects of the poem with our discussion, and if we differ to critical opinion then perhaps we are seeing it in a new light.

[Buh4Bee]

Sorry to spoil the fun. I think we all pretty much in agreement about the plot of the last poem.

How about this poem next:

The Plaid Dress

Strong sun, that bleach
The curtains of my room, can you not render
Colourless this dress I wear?—
This violent plaid
Of purple angers and red shames; the yellow stripe
Of thin but valid treacheries; the flashy green of kind deeds done
Through indolence high judgments given here in haste;
The recurring checker of the serious breach of taste?

No more uncoloured than unmade,
I fear, can be this garment that I may not doff;
Confession does not strip it off,
To send me homeward eased and bare;

All through the formal, unoffending evening, under the clean
Bright hair,
Lining the subtle gown. . .it is not seen,
But it is there.

Edna St. Vincent Millay