The time of the coupling iof man and woman
And tht of beasts. Feet rising ahd falling.
Eating and drinking. Dung and death.
If you do not see the rest of this and its associations, perhaps this constant retyping what everyone on the list has read is even more pointless than I thought.
Your misogynistic remarks are offensive, and I resent them.
I'm sure your crew will now find a need to add to them and address them to me, but that is too common to mean anything.
What I find a concern is that no one else on the list seems willing to care or to address them. And perhaps none have noticed that I am the only woman who remains on it in any ongoing way, though I'm glad to see Kate back, if infrequently.
>>> Chanan Mittal
04/19/14 10:55 AM >>>
"the association of man and woman
In daunsinge, signifying matrimonie˜
A dignified and commodious sacrament.
Two and two, necessarye coniunction,
Holding eche other by the hand or the arm
Whiche betokeneth concorde"
On Saturday, April 19, 2014, Nancy Gish <[log in to unmask]
');" target="_blank">[log in to unmask]
Do you think you might keep your misogyny to yourself? Or is it important to note that Eliot shared it?
>>> Chanan Mittal
04/19/14 9:44 AM >>>
"In the room the women come and go / Talking of Michelangelo."
On Saturday, April 19, 2014, Rickard A. Parker <[log in to unmask]
I don't think I would have bothered to point out this latest of the
Guardian's "How to Believe" series except that the ending paragraph (below)
touches on a few recent TSE list topics.
The poem draws on and shatters into pieces the polite culture of Eliot's
cultivated youth – bits of Arthurian lore, echoes of Shakespeare and
Goldsmith and Ovid – as well as less conventionally acceptable literature –
a line from Baudelaire here, of de Nerval there. It draws on Christianity –
the agony in the garden, the unrecognisable companion on the road to Emmaus,
the allusions to St Augustine in spiritual crisis – and Buddhism, with the
three-fold commands of the thunder in the last section. Yet, at best, it
offers little consolation; after the seeming resolution of the commands of
the thunder's precepts, it bursts out in anguish again with a line from
Kyd's The Spanish Tragedy – "Hieronymo's mad againe" (Eliot will have known
that Kyd was a notorious atheist, one of Marlowe's School of Night). The
thunder repeats, but the call to peace at the end – "Shantih, shantih,
shantih" – is perhaps the peace of exhaustion rather than acceptance. Eliot
is presenting a diagnosis of his, and our, sickness, but he is not yet sure
of the prescription – which is why, perhaps, The Waste Land is so great a poem.
TS Eliot's The Waste Land: the radical text of a wounded culture
The poem draws on draws on the Christianity of Eliot's polite and cultivated
youth – yet at best offers little consolation
theguardian.com, Thursday 17 April 2014