T. S. Eliot (1888–1965)

Poetry, prose, and play, woven together by Eliot. What a tremendous rendering of one of the most famous medieval martyrdoms, no less fashioned as a bit of a medieval morality play (particularly with the personified "tempters" with whom Thomas Becket converses prior to his death. The language is beautiful, with Eliot wielding alliteration more elegantly than his knights wield their swords bent on murder. The drunken knights get their own drinking song, with a couplet refrain: "Come down show more Daniel to the lions' den,/Come down Daniel for the mark of the beast." Allusions abound.

I read this as a followup to Alison Weir's biography of Eleanor of Aquitaine, which in large part ,was more about Henry II. What a creative, engaging, and intelligent look back at history. show less

The Waste Land is unarguably one of the Western world’s most important poems from the 20th century, and I’ve always loved it - baffling symbolism and strange prose included - even though I can’t claim to truly understand it. I mean, who can say that they do, in all honesty? Eliot was a weird dude by all measures, and sometimes you just have to let the joy of the weird person encompass you without getting caught up in it. In theory, the transcript publication of the original manuscript show more of the Waste Land (long held in the collection of John Quinn, Eliot’s friend and legal advisor) should shed some light on the poem itself, as readers are able to see edits made by Eliot and notes by Ezra Pound on the poems and fragments that became the finished Waste Land poem, but in a sense these drafts seem so far removed from the finished Waste Land that they can almost be considered separate entities themselves. In some cases this is more blatant than others, as Eliot’s second wife (and editor of the book) Valerie notes that certain poems remained unpublished and make no obvious further reference to their influence on the final Waste Land. Regardless of the transcript manuscript’s random contents (and my ongoing lack of interest in any attempt to formally analyse poetic content) the collection was a very interesting read, and I felt like my brain got a good workout in dealing with comprehending the dichotomy of understandable words combined into incomprehensible and strange ways. show less

Over two millennia ago, a Hebrew philosopher known anonymously as the Qoheleth offered this observation:

"[God] has made everything beautiful in its time. Also, he has put eternity into man’s heart yet so that he cannot find out what God has done from the beginning to the end" (Ecclesiastes 3:11 ESV).

You could consider Eliot’s Four Quartets his own wrestling on this ancient theme. Despite the Byrds’ zen-like refrain, the Qoheleth was troubled by this dark truth. We are creatures of time show more without the capacity to understand beginning and ending (let alone eternity!)

Eliot’s meditations are correspondingly dark. He begins, like the Qoheleth:

"Time present and time past
Are both perhaps in time future,
And time future contained in time past.
If all time is eternally present
All time is unredeemable" (“Burnt Norton” 1-5).

Time is a mystery. We can’t grasp it. We can’t somehow view it from the fixed point of a wheel—we can only participate in the dance that circuits around the “still point” (“Burnt Norton” 66).

Four Quartets are not something to be read lightly. They are incredibly dense and pregnant with meaning. This is language distilled to its essence.

For the Christian, these poems hold something extra. Eliot’s high-church Anglican worldview is infused in his writing. Consider these verses about the death of Christ:

"The dripping blood our only drink,
The bloody flesh our only food:
In spite of which we like to think
That we are sound, substantial flesh and blood—
Again, in spite of that, we call this Friday good" (“East Coker” 67-71).

Indeed, the incarnation of Christ is the only real solution to time. In Jesus, the eternal entered time. If we have a hope of grasping the mystery, it will be found in him.

More than Eliot’s day, ours is full of people “Distraction from distraction by distraction / Filled with fancies and empty of meaning” (“Burnt Norton” 101). It is a helpful antidote to slow down and meditate deeply on something. Aside from scripture, I can think of no better work of art than Eliot’s Four Quartets. show less

Old Possum's Book of Practical Cats by T.S. Eliot is the most charming little book of poetry I've ever read. Roni directed me to it when we were in Adams Avenue Books for which I am VERY grateful. I read the poems aloud to my husband, which added to the pleasure because they are better when read aloud and because the pleasure was shared. Besides the charming poems, the book also is filled with charming drawings. Such a win-win. Here's a stanza from one of my favorites: "Skimbleshanks: the show more Railway Cat". If you read it aloud you will discover that it has the rhythm of an old steam train leaving the station.
You may say that by and large it is Skimble who's in charge
Of the Sleeping Car Express.
From the driver to the guards to the bagmen playing cards
He will supervise them all, more or less.
Down the corridor he paces and examines all the faces
Of the travellers in the First and in the Third.
He establishes control by a regular patrol
And he'd know at once if anything occurred.
He will watch you without winking and he sees what you are thinking
And it's certain that he doesn't approve
Of hilarity and riot, so the folk are very quiet
When Skimble is about and on the move. show less