tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3383938214852108244.post8319917820396889221..comments2024-03-29T03:04:00.853-05:00Comments on Wuthering <br>Expectations: A note on Jean Toomer's Cane and a correction of a big errorAmateur Reader (Tom)http://www.blogger.com/profile/13675275555757408496noreply@blogger.comBlogger13125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3383938214852108244.post-34506807151304858092019-05-02T14:31:25.542-05:002019-05-02T14:31:25.542-05:00Ah, thanks. How interesting. And then to find th...Ah, thanks. How interesting. And then to find the theme in such an old French poem from Réunion - that is a lot of distance to cross.Amateur Reader (Tom)https://www.blogger.com/profile/13675275555757408496noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3383938214852108244.post-64780139208843917652019-05-02T13:25:05.114-05:002019-05-02T13:25:05.114-05:00Thank you for asking. I was struck by a common pat...Thank you for asking. I was struck by a common pattern of death and fruit topics. According to Gerald Moore's The Imagery of Death in African Poetry, the concept of the dead as offerings (hence their relation to fruit) is recurrent in African lit, as is the concept of the dead being the seed from which the fruit of the living will arise. For example in "The Road. Here Soyinka's vision of road-deaths as sacrifices to Ogun, god of iron and war becomes the major theme". Or J. P. Clark's poem about the recently deceased, the Abiku: Night, and Abiku sucks the oil/ From lamps. Mothers! I'll be the/ Suppliant snake coiled on the doorstep/ Yours the killing cry. // The ripest fruit was the saddest; / Where I crept, the warmth was cloying. <br /><br />Or a funeral song from Abeokuta, in Nigeria "I saw the king of the river and the king of the sun./ There in that country I saw palm trees/ So weighed down with fruit,/ That the trees bent under the fruit,/ And the fruit killed them. And of course that Strange Fruit song made famous by Billy Holliday.Cleanthesshttps://www.blogger.com/profile/15363416290397892659noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3383938214852108244.post-74171789345947388172019-05-01T21:50:27.520-05:002019-05-01T21:50:27.520-05:00I am not sure how the Parny thing is related. How...I am not sure how the Parny thing is related. How is it related?<br /><br />It is from a discussion on another website, but the Banaphool story mentioned <a href="https://www.asymptotejournal.com/fiction/banaphool-nawab-sahib/" rel="nofollow">is here</a>. It is good. I read a Banaphool collection recently and wish I had something to say about it, but I do not, not really.Amateur Reader (Tom)https://www.blogger.com/profile/13675275555757408496noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3383938214852108244.post-3373126895895604712019-05-01T10:17:28.412-05:002019-05-01T10:17:28.412-05:00I have read "Cane" a number of times but...I have read "Cane" a number of times but not in a long time. Fell in love with it as a young woman...<br /><br />Thanks for the Banaphool recommendation! Just read the Asymptote story and will look further.marly youmansnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3383938214852108244.post-54575324718884486182019-04-29T21:05:30.785-05:002019-04-29T21:05:30.785-05:00From Parny's Chansons madécasses, 1787:
Mon f...From Parny's Chansons madécasses, 1787:<br /><br />Mon fils a péri dans le combat<br /><br /> My son was killed in battle ... O my friends! cry for the son of your chief. Take his body to the house where the dead dwell. A high wall protects it, and on the wall there are rows of menacing horned skulls . Fear the abode of the dead, for their wrath is terrible, and their revenge is cruel. Cry for my son.<br />MEN:<br />The blood of enemies will no more redden his arms.<br />WOMEN:<br />His lips will never kiss other lips.<br />MEN:<br />Fruits will not anymore grow red for him.<br />WOMEN:<br />He will no longer press his hands over soft, burning breasts.<br />MEN:<br />He will sing no more lying under the branches.<br />WOMEN:<br />He will not whisper again into the ears of his mistress: Let's do it one more time, my love!Cleanthesshttps://www.blogger.com/profile/15363416290397892659noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3383938214852108244.post-57807975458441283932019-04-29T10:59:07.395-05:002019-04-29T10:59:07.395-05:00Okigbo, thanks. I had not read him. I have hardl...Okigbo, thanks. I had not read him. I have hardly read any Nigerian literature, come to think of it.Amateur Reader (Tom)https://www.blogger.com/profile/13675275555757408496noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3383938214852108244.post-73723821716372816782019-04-29T07:24:49.205-05:002019-04-29T07:24:49.205-05:00The poem is amazing, and immediately reminded me o...The poem is amazing, and immediately reminded me of Christopher Okigbo, whose collection <i>Labyrinths</i> blew me away when I encountered it forty years ago; compare his poem “The Passage”:<br /><br />SILENT FACES at crossroads: <br /> festivity in black… <br />Faces of black like long black<br /> column of ants, <br /><br />behind the bell tower, <br />into the hot garden <br />where all roads meet: <br />festivity in black… <br /><br />or "Watermaid":<br /><br />BRIGHT<br />with the armpit-dazzle of a lioness,<br />she answers,<br /><br />wearing white light about her [...]<br /><br />Okigbo is too little known (he died appallingly young in 1967), and I highly recommend him to anyone who finds those excerpts appealing. And now I want to read Toomer.Languagehathttps://www.blogger.com/profile/13285708503881129380noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3383938214852108244.post-75608271333886540892019-04-23T09:14:22.580-05:002019-04-23T09:14:22.580-05:00I did find the "play" to be tedious. Ev...I did find the "play" to be tedious. Even the psychological insights worked at a more intellectual or theoretical level.Amateur Reader (Tom)https://www.blogger.com/profile/13675275555757408496noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3383938214852108244.post-89286168412743953642019-04-22T23:55:24.403-05:002019-04-22T23:55:24.403-05:00It is *wonderful*! "Wind is in the cane; come...It is *wonderful*! "Wind is in the cane; come along..."Dorianhttp://www.eigermonchjungfrau.wordpress.comnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3383938214852108244.post-83778557212594947152019-04-22T13:06:28.958-05:002019-04-22T13:06:28.958-05:00Cane is barely over a hundred pages. (Not that it...<i>Cane</i> is barely over a hundred pages. (Not that it just zips along, oh no). No idea why I had not read it long ago. No good reason.Amateur Reader (Tom)https://www.blogger.com/profile/13675275555757408496noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3383938214852108244.post-50635184224719470082019-04-22T12:10:13.403-05:002019-04-22T12:10:13.403-05:00Well this just shot up pretty high on my list of b...Well this just shot up pretty high on my list of books to be read.seraillonhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/17654593356535433945noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3383938214852108244.post-41234222445879721722019-04-20T09:01:50.376-05:002019-04-20T09:01:50.376-05:00I don't want to over-emphasize the subject mat...I don't want to over-emphasize the subject matter, since Toomer's expression was so individual, but the whole package is pretty out there - style and content.Amateur Reader (Tom)https://www.blogger.com/profile/13675275555757408496noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3383938214852108244.post-35021449370440148172019-04-20T08:23:27.758-05:002019-04-20T08:23:27.758-05:00whoawhoaJeannehttps://www.blogger.com/profile/17975028272143207826noreply@blogger.com