Heather’s Comments (group member since Feb 24, 2012)

Heather’s comments from the Classics for Beginners group.

In light of the March read, I revisited a poem by Sylvia Plath written 1 October 1962:

The Detective

What was she doing when it blew in
Over the seven hills, the red furrow, the blue mountain?
Was she arranging cups? Is it important.
Was she at the window, listening?
In that valley the train shrieks echo like souls on hooks.

That is the valley of death, though the cows thrive.
In her garden the lies were shaking out their moist silks
And the eyes of the killer moving sluglike and sidelong,
Unable to face the fingers, those egotists.
The fingers were tamping a woman into a wall,

A body into a pipe, and the smoke rising.
This is the smell of years burning, here in the kitchen,
These are the deceits, tacked up like family photographs,
And this is a man, look at his smile,
The death weapon? No one is dead.

There is no body in the house at all.
There is a smell of polish, there are plush carpets.
There is sunlight, playing its blades,
Bored hoodlum in a red room
where the wireless talks itself like an elderly relative,

Did it come like an arrow, did it come like a knife?
Which of the poisons is it?
Which of the nerve-curlers, the convulsors? Did it electrify?
This is a case without a body.
The body does not come into it at all.

It is a case of vaporization.
The mouth first, its absence reported
In the second year. It had been insatiable
And in punishment was hung out like a brown fruit
To wrinkle and dry.

The breasts were next.
These were harder, two white stones.
The milk came yellow, then blue and sweet as water.
There was no absence of lips, there were two children,
But their bones showed, and the moon smiled.

Then the dry wood, the gates,
The brown motherly furrows, the whole estate.
We walk on air, Watson.
There is only the moon, embalmed in phosphorus.
There is only a crow in a tree. Make notes.

* This was written only two days before she wrote the "bee poems" and I noticed that someone commented in the thread about Sherlock Holmes that another series was out called "The Beekeepers Apprentice"...what a strange coincidence ;)

@Curmudgeon and Yasiru - I haven't had the time to read through ALL the posts,;) but my brother came along this article during his research and sent the link to me. I thought you guys might find it interesting. I'm not on here much, but I appreciate your conversations!!
www.unc.edu/~akakalio/Landau.pdf

Whew...defining a classic?! I think the "passing of time" or "standing the test of time" is incidental. Once a book has been included in the literary canon for x amount of years, it gives scholars and readers a chance to examine the book from different critical lenses. I'll take a couple examples and explain. Nathaniel Hawthorne is considered a classic American author, but it is only recently (within the past 30 years or so) that his work has been examined through a feminist lens. But look at "The Book Thief" (How do I do italics??!!) by Markus Zusak. I would consider this a classic although it has not been around long enough to be included in the "stands the test of time" definition. My argument that this is a classic includes the fact that I (and I'm an "amateur") can analyze this book through many (if not all) the critical lenses. Masculine/feminine critique, Historical critique, biographical,etc. Many are familiar with "To Kill a Mockingbird." Classic material for sure! Just thought I'd share ;)

Hi all! I'm Heather and I'm from Denver, Colorado. I read a lot for school, research, and to keep up to date on the newest YA literature (I'm in education) and I recently realized my experience with the "classics" ...who decides this anyway?! :)... is limited to what I have read or am reading in class. Looking forward to some insight and discussions! Oh, and my fav literature is Harry Potter and Shakespeare...what a combo!