Eliot often inserts characters, place names, and lines from other classical artworks I lack a general background in literature and so was ignorant of all of the referents aside from one. The Wasteland is particularly good for this it is longer than the others, can be read within half an hour, and spurs a lot of good conversation. These are amazing to read out loud with friends.
Recommended for fans of modern or contemporary poetry Alfred Prufrock," and especially "The Hollow Men," in which I read a great deal of meaning during the depression I experienced during my reading of this collection. I was moved however by my readings of other poems, such as "Whispers of Immortality," "The Love song of J. So beset was I by Eliot's "fun," that I did not have any, as I ended my reading of the poem with no real clear idea of what I had read, and no desire to cover the material a second time. I greeted this seeming slim volume, never expecting pages stacked high with archaic namedrops, erudite references, and clumsy callbacks I felt beleaguered by my reading of "The Waste Land," this performance of academic self-indulgence, if nothing else. "The Waste Land" is the big attraction everyone comes to see in this collection. I think the last time I understood poetry was in fifth grade when I had to recite a passage from "The Midnight Ride of Paul Revere." Since then I've found that most poetry completely and utterly befuddles me. It's disgraceful - the thing can't be 75 pages and here I sit, unable to get through it. Alfred Prufrock well enough, but so much of The Wasteland is unintelligable to me that I found myself reading a page and setting this down.
is smarter than me and I think that's the problem here. But, some of those poems I understand - I think. I even keep a copy of Garrison Keillor's anthology "Good Poem's For Hard Times" on my night stand, for Pete's sakes! It's there right now, see? (Ok maybe there the tv remote is sitting on top of it). I want to believe that good poetry has something to share with us. It gets two stars in deference to the world of literary critics and english PhD's who call Eliot a master. I measured out my life with coffee spoons in the hours, weeks, indeed months between when I first picked this up and when I subsequently set it down unfinished.
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