Monday, October 31, 2011

The Female of the Species

Here's another gem from Mr. Kipling. As always, I'm curious about your impressions of the poem, but I also would like for you to answer the following question?

In "The Female of the Species" does Kipling offer us a sympathetic portrait of women?

How does this poem compare when juxtaposed with "The Vampire"?




The Female of the Species

WHEN the Himalayan peasant meets the he-bear in his pride,
He shouts to scare the monster who will often turn aside.
But the she-bear thus accosted rends the peasant tooth and nail,
For the female of the species is more deadly than the male.

When Nag, the wayside cobra, hears the careless foot of man,
He will sometimes wriggle sideways and avoid it if he can,
But his mate makes no such motion where she camps beside the trail -
For the female of the species is more deadly than the male.

When the early Jesuit fathers preached to Hurons and Choctaws,
They prayed to be delivered from the vengeance of the squaws -
'Twas the women, not the warriors, turned those stark enthusiasts pale -
For the female of the species is more deadly than the male.

Man's timid heart is bursting with the things he must not say,
For the Woman that God gave him isn't his to give away;
But when hunter meets with husband, each confirms the others tale -
The female of the species is more deadly than the male.

Man, a bear in most relations, worm and savage otherwise,
Man propounds negotiations, Man accepts the compromise;
Very rarely will he squarely push the logic of a fact
To its ultimate conclusion in unmitigated act.

Fear, or foolishness, impels him, ere he lay the wicked low,
To concede some form of trial even to his fiercest foe.
Mirth obscene diverts his anger; Doubt and Pity oft perplex
Him in dealing with an issue - to the scandal of the Sex!

But the Woman that God gave him, every fibre of her frame
Proves her launched for one sole issue, armed and engined for the same,
And to serve that single issue, lest the generations fail,
The female of the species must be deadlier than the male.

She who faces Death by torture for each life beneath her breast
May not deal in doubt or pity - must not swerve for fact or jest.
These be purely male diversions - not in these her honor dwells -
She, the Other Law we live by, is that Law and nothing else!
 
She can bring no more to living than the powers that make her great
As the Mother of the Infant and the Mistress of the Mate;
And when Babe and Man are lacking and she strides unclaimed to claim
Her right as femme (and baron), her equipment is the same.

She is wedded to convictions - in default of grosser ties;
Her contentions are her children, Heaven help him, who denies!
He will meet no cool discussion, but the instant, white-hot wild
Wakened female of the species warring as for spouse and child.

Unprovoked and awful charges - even so the she-bear fights;
Speech that drips, corrodes and poisons - even so the cobra bites;
Scientific vivisection of one nerve till it is raw,
And the victim writhes with anguish - like the Jesuit with the squaw!

So it comes that Man, the coward, when he gathers to confer
With his fellow-braves in council, dare not leave a place for her
Where, at war with Life and Conscience, he uplifts his erring hands
To some God of abstract justice - which no woman understands.

And Man knows it! Knows, moreover, that the Woman that God gave him
Must command but may not govern; shall enthrall but not enslave him.
And She knows, because She warns him and Her instincts never fail,
That the female of Her species is more deadly than the male!

Rudyard Kipling


*** STRING IS CLOSED ***

Thursday, October 27, 2011

East of Eden Open Thread


I've been asked to provide a forum for discussion of the test questions for Steinbeck's novel. This is that thread. There will be no leading questions. There will be no input from yours truly (unless I just cannot help myself). What happens in the comments that follow this post is entirely up to all of you. I encourage you to share ideas.

Have at it guys.

*** STRING IS CLOSED ***

Wednesday, October 26, 2011

In Honor of Halloween ...



In honor of the holiday I offer this selection from Rudyard Kipling. I won't ask too many leading questions. I'll only say that I'm interested to see what each of you think. I look forward to reading your replies.

“The Vampire”
A fool there was and he made his prayer
(Even as you and I!)
To a rag and a bone and a hank of hair
(We called her the woman who did not care),
But the fool he called her his lady fair
(Even as you and I!)
Oh the years we waste and the tears we waste
And the work of our head and hand,
Belong to the woman who did not know
(And now we know that she never could know)
And did not understand.
A fool there was and his goods he spent
(Even as you and I!)
Honor and faith and a sure intent
But a fool must follow his natural bent
(And it wasn't the least what the lady meant),
(Even as you and I!)
Oh the toil we lost and the spoil we lost
And the excellent things we planned,
Belong to the woman who didn't know why
(And now we know she never knew why)
And did not understand.
The fool we stripped to his foolish hide
(Even as you and I!)
Which she might have seen when she threw him aside--
(But it isn't on record the lady tried)
So some of him lived but the most of him died--
(Even as you and I!)
And it isn't the shame and it isn't the blame
That stings like a white hot brand.
It's coming to know that she never knew why
(Seeing at last she could never know why)
And never could understand.

*** STRING IS CLOSED ***

Thursday, October 20, 2011

It Must Be Something ...


I realize we're all still dancing with "Jabberwocky," but I thought we might consider multitasking. Consider the following poem (don't worry ... it's brief).

"To the Field Goal Kicker in a Slump"

It must be something
like writer’s block,
when nothing will go
between the margins,
when language won’t soar
high enough,
when you wake
in the morning and know
you’ve chosen
the wrong game.

     - Linda Pastan

Please take a moment, and share your thoughts with everyone. Do we love this poem? ... hate it? ... are we absolutely indifferent to it?

Does the poem work for you, and if so, what makes it work? What is going on here?

Be brave ... poetry doesn't bite unless you give it the opportunity.

*** STRING IS CLOSED ***

Tuesday, October 11, 2011

Lost In Translation Part Deux: The Return of Mimsy



As some of you may know, the verse highlighted in the previous string is a selection from Lewis Carroll's poem, "Jabberwocky." Here is the poem in its entirety:


'Twas brillig, and the slithy toves
Did gyre and gimble in the wabe;
All mimsy were the borogoves,
And the mome raths outgrabe.

"Beware the Jabberwock, my son!
The jaws that bite, the claws that catch!
Beware the Jubjub bird, and shun
The frumious Bandersnatch!

"He took his vorpal sword in hand:
Long time the manxome foe he sought—
So rested he by the Tumtum tree,
And stood awhile in thought.

And as in uffish thought he stood,
The Jabberwock, with eyes of flame,
Came whiffling through the tulgey wood,
And burbled as it came!

One, two! One, two! and through and through
The vorpal blade went snicker-snack!
He left it dead, and with its head
He went galumphing back."

And hast thou slain the Jabberwock?
Come to my arms, my beamish boy!
O frabjous day! Callooh! Callay!"
He chortled in his joy.

'Twas brillig, and the slithy toves
Did gyre and gimble in the wabe;
All mimsy were the borogoves,
And the mome raths outgrabe.


You should know that the poem is often used by teachers as an illustration of portmanteau, and to help students learn to identify the various parts of speech. A portmanteau word (portmanteau is most often used as an adjective) is a combination of two words, without the comma common to contractions. For example, "frumious" is often regarded as a combination of furious and fuming. "Galumphing" is thought to be a combination of galloping and triumphant. If this interests you then you'll find all of this information online. None of this, however, matters in the context of our discussion. We'll be looking at the nonsensical words in the poem as just that, nonsense.

What is the first question English teachers ask when you read a poem in class? I know that you know. So, tell me. What is it?

That's right. Teachers always ask, "What does the poem mean?"

Your response is usually, "How should I know?" At that point you tune out and begin drooling on yourself, while the teacher tells you what he or she thinks the poem means. This isn't how I like to do business.

Yes, I'll be asking about the meaning of the poem, but I won't be supplying an answer. I'll also be asking an equally important, and often overlooked question. Here goes ...

"How does the poem mean?"

Specifically, how does Lewis Carroll use nonsense to add meaning to his poem?
So, we have two questions that I am asking each of you to answer ...
  • What does the poem mean? What is it all about?
  • How do the portmanteau words - the nonsense - add to the meaning of the poem?
Be not afraid of the jabberwock. Heed not the jaws that bite or the claws that catch. Put your fingers to your keyboard, and demonstrate that you're capable of lucid thought.

*** STRING IS CLOSED ***

Wednesday, October 5, 2011

Lost In Translation



I would like for each of you to translate the following lines. Some of you may recognize them. If you do, don't let on as to the source. All will be revealed in time.

Twas brillig, and the slithy toves
Did gyre and gimble in the wabe:
All mimsy were the borogoves,
And the mome raths outgrabe.

I must insist that you not use any reference material (dictionaries, Google, Wiki-anything, etc.). Rather, simply substitute words you know for those you do not understand. Use your imagination to give the selection meaning where there might otherwise appear to be none.

Again ... Absolutely No Search Engines (like Google) ... Search Engines Bad ... Search Engines Very Bad ... Search Engines Make Brains Small ... Search Engines Make Mongo Angry!

Remember to respond to the initial post, and later reply to at least one of your classmates' submissions. Everyone submits a minimum of two comments.

*** STRING IS CLOSED ***

Saturday, October 1, 2011

Distant Strains of Triumph

Hello everyone. Tonight I found myself thinking about the title of our blog, and I thought I would share with you the source of that title. After you've read the poem that follows, please share your thoughts with the class. Do you like the poem? ... why or why not? Does the poem have a specific message? If so, how does the poem express that message? Finally, why do you suppose I chose the 13th line to represent our class forum? I am very interested to see what you folks think.

Success is counted sweetest

Success is counted sweetest
By those who ne'er succeed.
To comprehend a nectar
Requires sorest need.

Not one of all the purple Host
Who took the Flag today
Can tell the definition
So clear of Victory

As he defeated--dying--
On whose forbidden ear
The distant strains of triumph
Burst agonized and clear! 
  
                                         - Emily Dickinson 


***STRING IS CLOSED***