The Waste Land

The Waste Land is a poem to be studied rather than read, analysed rather than enjoyed, and this fact will already put it firmly into the debit column for many readers. T. S. Eliot apparently had a theory that 'poetry can communicate before it is understood', and certainly you get this from The Waste Land: the sense of foreboding and cataclysm, and of disharmony and then harmony, synergy, comes through to you even if you do not have a clue what is going on. Eliot chooses his words well and there is a wealth of allusion hinting at an unspoken metaphysical layer. There is a Pandora's box of dark potential in Eliot's piece, like an atom that could be split with explosive power, and while you might well prefer Stephen King or Marian Keyes show more (and more power to you), I for one am glad that there are complex artistic contraptions like The Waste Land in the world. show less

As is true for most readers, when I first encountered The Waste Land in the 1960s, I found myself in a very foreign poetic land. I read the annotations and explications. I listened to my professors. I reread and mad innumerable margin notes. I felt the poem's power and despair. But its meaning seemed hard to parse.

Now, decades later, rereading yet again, I know the poem and the poem knows me. We still live in The Waste Land. The loss of all mooring after WWI still remains a debris we drift with. But the poem itself seems very approachable now, its discordant ballet of voices powerful as ever, but its sense much more apparent to me.

You must read and reread this poem. My critical opinion of it had moved over time to it being show more overrated---but now, no. It is a seminal poem of the last century. And its relevance today is profound. show less

I decided I needed to read The Wasteland by T. S. Eliot because well... it's by T. S. Eliot and it's an important poem... Not the best reason for reading a poem, but at least it brought me to it. That said, it felt oddly familiar and completely unfamiliar all at once. I read the words and felt taken away from reality and immersed in reality all at once. Eliot hit on universal truths that will mean different things to different people at different times in their lives. I read it slowly - intentionally slowly - over several night, so I could think about the words and the message. The Wasteland sparked thoughts about the current state of the world in which we live forcing me to wonder just how much things really change yet there were show more moments when I struggled to connect to Eliot's words. show less

Genuine poetry can communicate before it is understood. - T.S Eliot

Less understanding on my part, though some communication on Mr. Eliot's, so by his own
definition, The Waste Land must be genuine poetry. If that sounds less than enthusiastic, it's probably a reflection of my disappointment at not being totally blown away by what is generally reckoned to be one of the greatest poems of the twentieth century. I'm sure the deficit is on my side, and I'll certainly return to this poem as there are undoubtedly depths I've not plumbed.

Four stars, nonetheless, because there's some nice stuff about the cruelty of April, drowned Phoenicians, and overheard gossip about abortions.

My copy of the Waste Land also includes Preludes and Ash Wednesday. Reading TS Eliot's more mature poems I can see that there is much of memory at work. I find the poetry is down to earth in a foggy, dusty way. There are streets with gutters, beer and fag ends, 'The burnt out ends of smokey days', city scapes, London fog, the dead end of religion 'And God said shall these bones live.' Overall I feel there is a mundaneity that is almost kitchen sink. I can see that the writers of 'Cats' turned to TS Eliot's mature poems, Preludes, The Waste Land and Ash Wednesday, to give their musical its stand out song.

I was impressed with this long poem about the crumbling of civilization, specifically Western Culture. I did need to do some study as there is a lot of references to poems, plays, Shakespeare, Dante, etc.

"April is the cruellest month, breeding Lilacs out of the dead land, mixing Memory and desire, stirring Dull roots with spring rain. Winter kept us warm, covering Earth in forgotten snow, feeding a little life with dried tubers."

"The river's tent is broken: the last fingers of leaf clutch and sink into the wet bank."

Here's a quote to fit Halloween, since I read this in October, "A woman drew her long black hair out tight and fiddled whisper music on those strings And bats with baby faces in the violet light Whistled, and beat their show more wings And crawled head downward down a blackened wall"

And finally, Eliot implores us to Datta. Dayadhvam. Damyata. Give, show compassion, self control. show less

non posso dire che la poesia sia il mio pane. Pochi sono gli autori per i quali faccio eccezione. L'ingessato Eliot è uno di questi. Chissà perchè mi piace? Forse perchè agita antichi ricordi di classicismo scolastico? Forse perchè la sua scrittura è più spesso, una prosa poetica? forse perchè mi fa pensare a Gabriele Rossetti, un pittore che amo molto? Chissà.
Certo ha scritto uno dei versi più evocativi che abbia mai letto: "Aprile è il più crudele dei mesi: genera lillà dalla terra morta, mescola ricordo e desiderio..."