Analysis of "Carnal Apple, Woman Filled, Burning Moon" by Pablo Neruda

“Carnal Apple, Woman Filled, Burning Moon”

  Carnal apple, Woman filled, burning moon,
  dark smell of seaweed, crush of mud and light,
  what secret knowledge is clasped between your pillars?
  What primal night does Man touch with his senses?
⁵ Ay, Love is a journey through waters and stars,
  through suffocating air, sharp tempests of grain:
  Love is a war of lightning,
  and two bodies ruined by a single sweetness.
  Kiss by kiss I cover your tiny infinity,
¹⁰ your margins, your rivers, your diminutive villages,
  and a genital fire, transformed by delight,
  slips through the narrow channels of blood
  to precipitate a nocturnal carnation,
  to be, and be nothing but light in the dark. 

                                                             Pablo Neruda

This poem by Pablo Neruda is filled with much sensual imagery that beautifully paints the image of a woman without sounding obscene, as expected from him. With the very first phrase “carnal apple”, Neruda sets the mood for the rest of the poem. The “apple”―alluding to the forbidden fruit of good and evil in the Garden of Eden―that is “carnal” suggests the speaker is describing his audience (the woman) as a tempting, bodily pleasure, and this idea is continued throughout the rest of the poem.

The speaker adds to his female enticement an air of power with certain symbols and connotations. For example, again in the first line, how the speaker likens the woman to the “moon” results in the woman also being seen as a great, divine body. The Moon itself is already a known figure of femininity and influence, so the speaker using “moon” as another identifier of the woman gives her that same image. Furthermore, the speaker suggesting that the woman contains “secret knowledge” (3) makes her seem like a wise and old source of guidance, like many already view the Moon.

This ‘old’ and deep-rooted feeling from the woman of the poem continues―Neruda’s uses diction connoting things of ancient or primitive material. The words “primal” (4) and “carnation” (13) connect back to the worldly, primordial definition of “carnal” in the first line. Additionally, Neruda uses imagery of the woman as basic forms of nature to add to the native feeling. As the speaker describes, the woman’s body is made of “margins”, “rivers” and “villages” (10) with “channels of blood” (12), with “blood” also connoting ancestry along with carrying the tone of passion and pleasure. The woman’s body also holds an “infinity” (9), like the vast and eternal characteristic of nature itself.

Importance of Identity?

I have just begun reading the book Every Day by David Levithan, and, of course, within the opening chapter I am already reminded of Invisible Man.

The basic idea of the Every Day's story is that the narrator (an unnamed storyteller) is stuck with the reality of 'becoming' a new person each day. In this 'becoming', the narrator in essence inhabits the body of someone who was already living, taking over their entire life as that thinking, breathing pre-existing person for a day. In the opening paragraphs of the book, the narrator describes his perpetual experience: "Every day I am someone else. I am myself--I know I am myself--but I am also someone else." Literally, the narrator wakes up each day to have yet another different form to house his some unseen yet sentient essence. However, the narrator has over time become somewhat content with this phenomenon, saying "I don't know how this works. Or why. I stopped trying to figure it out a long time ago. I'm never going to figure it out, any more than a normal person will figure out his or her own existence. After a while, you have to be at peace with the fact that you simply are."

This story reminded me of Invisible Man due to its heavy focus on the importance of identity. And after reading the first part of Every Day, I question, is identity actually important? In reality, we have many labels to describe us and give our existences shape. But are they all necessary? Can one live without an identity, or with a fluid one? I think so. After all, the narrator of Invisible Man finds comfort in being socially "invisible".

Definitions of Identity/Invisibility in Invisible Man

Identity (along with its relative invisibility) is a major theme in Invisible Man. While reading the novel, it isn't hard to notice how the definitions of identity and invisibility shift and change, especially with the view of different characters. There is no one exact explanation for either of the terms.

For example, when the narrator first introduces himself as invisible to the reader, he clarifies that he is in fact "a man of substance, of flesh, and bone, fiber liquids...[and] a mind" (3)--his invisibility is the inability for others to see him, in a mental and figurative sense ("That invisibility to which I refer to occurs because of a peculiar disposition of the eyes of those with whom I come in contact. A matter of the construction of their inner eyes, those eyes with which they look through their physical eyes upon reality" (3)). He adds later in the epilogue (a.k.a. the extended prologue) that his sole job as an invisible man was to reflect--affirming whoever is around him, no matter their ethics, morality, or accuracy--thus constantly shifting what he identifies with (and his identity) with his surroundings. Now, he claims to no longer adopt the opinions of others, rebelling to become a true "invisible man". His identity, therefore, has changed from being the sum of the others around him to originating from his own person.

In the beginning of the book, the Vet's definition of invisibility is associated with mechanicality. As he tells Mr. Norton about the narrator, "Already he's learned to repress not only his emotions but his humanity. He's invisible, a walking personification of the Negative, the most perfect achievement of your dreams, sir! The mechanical man!" (94). To the Vet, someone who is invisible is identified as a blind "automaton", implying that to be invisible is to be mindless, non-sentient, and ignorant (which the narrator rebuffs in the epilogue, "I'm invisible, not blind" (576)).

Later on, we learn how Dr. Bledsoe's definition of invisibility is concerned with the amount of power one has. Because Bledsoe sees the lack of power the narrator has compared to his claimed immense power over all the white people, Bledsoe calls the narrator a "nobody" and says he "[doesn't] exist" (143). According to Bledsoe, a lack of power is synonymous with a lack of identity--not necessarily invisible, but certainly not visible in any way that matters.

A similar connection of invisibility with power continues when the narrator meets the Brotherhood, who first tells him "The longer you remain unknown...the longer you'll be effective" (284). In standing with the Brotherhood's ideals, the individual "[doesn't] count" (291) and the importance is in the crowd and unit. Therefore, an individual does not have the capacity of use that one who is invisible (or who has a lack of identity) does. The narrator ends up using this capacity as an invisible man to his advantage, even in the 'end'.

The way that the definitions for identity and invisibility change so much and are fluid throughout the Invisible Man could be interpreted as a comment from Ellison that there is no one identity per one person, or, that one's identity is determined from that person's own perception of it.

Who is Hamlet?

When we first began reading Hamlet, we had a class discussion over the many possible answers to the question, “Who is Hamlet?” Some obvious answers were of course someone who is intelligent and cunning, someone who is morally judgmental, and someone who is dramatic and perceptive. However, there was one answer I find to be interesting as of late: we called Hamlet a “preserver”. I find this extremely ironic—we originally named Hamlet as a preserver, but in our recent class discussions, we mulled over the idea of Hamlet being a “poison”. Does he fit one of those descriptions and not the other? Is he both those names? Is he neither?

In my small group, we discussed how Hamlet could very well be the poison and not a preserver at all, due to his deleterious effect of the kingdom since his father was murdered. Sure, we find it easy to side with Hamlet’s viewpoint that everyone else in the kingdom is corrupt (mostly because we read from and find out a lot about Hamlet’s perspective the majority of the play); however, he can also be seen as being involved with bringing about the corruption in the kingdom himself. From the kingdom’s viewpoint, Hamlet acts as a ruinous force that attempts to break apart the kingdom to bring it back to the state of peril it was in during the time of the late king’s death. Leaving alone the argument that the kingdom is not a morally sound place with the crowning of the new King, Hamlet’s calling out of the new King along with his mother and loyal servants disrupts what could be an active, functioning kingdom. After all, in terms of safety, I think Denmark would rather have—would need—a corrupt King that still promises to maintain the kingdom than none at all. And Claudius has never appeared to want to run the kingdom down into the ground; he just wanted it for himself.

On the other hand, my small group also made the point that Hamlet works well as the poison that inhibits “weeds” from growing. In other words, Hamlet as the poison preserves the garden of the kingdom, weeding it effectively and keeping the things that are “rank and gross in nature” from possessing it (it also allows space and soil for flowers [aka Ophelia] to grow, but that’s another topic). In this way, poison-Hamlet is the bad that brings about good, which leads to the question, “Is it okay to be the villainous hero for good?” I believe it is, if it’s what’s needed. Like I said earlier, despite the gut-wrenching feeling it gives us to think about it (or at least me), Claudius was the hero for Denmark’s kingdom when it was in need (really, he created the situation in order for him to rescue Denmark, but that’s another story as well, considering the people of Denmark don’t know that).  Even though he came to power immorally, the kingdom still was sustained underneath him and even managed to avoid war with other states.

Therefore, our class was right in the past as much as we are now: Hamlet is both the preserver and the poison of the kingdom. No wonder he’s feeling stressed; that’s quite a burden to carry.

Infinite Life--Analysis of "Do Not Stand At My Grave And Weep" by Mary Elizabeth Frye

"Do Not Stand At My Grave And Weep" by Mary Elizabeth Frye

Do not stand at my grave and weep

I am not there. I do not sleep.

I am a thousand winds that blow.

I am the diamond glints on snow.

I am the sunlight on ripened grain.

I am the gentle autumn rain.

When you awaken in the morning's hush

I am the swift uplifting rush

Of quiet birds in circled flight.

I am the soft stars that shine at night.

Do not stand at my grave and cry;

I am not there. I did not die.

                                                                                 ~~~

In Mary Elizabeth Frye’s poem, I believe the main message she conveys is that life is not something that starts and ends, but is something that is recycled. In other words, nothing can ever truly die. In this poem, we see the image of a familiar scene: a loved one has passed away and those that know him or her mourn their loss. However, the speaker tells the mourner not to cry at the sight of the grave, for the life was never taken from them. Instead, the life that left the speaker’s human form has been recycled to continue to live on the earth in different forms.

I also see how Frye could want the reader to see how there is life in everything that we come across, no matter how insignificant. Even the light reflecting off snow (4) and the hushed sound of birds passing over (8-9) are forms of life. I think this is important because we as humans learn that something “lives” when we observe it move, breathe, or grow. However, all the items listed in Frye’s poem that the speaker claims to be move, breathe, and grow in their own way. After all, we can observe of the ‘movement’ of the “gentle autumn rain” (6), the ‘breath’ of the “morning’s hush” (7), and the ‘growth’ of light in the “soft stars that shine at night” (10).

Finally, I can also see how Frye may want the reader to see how wasteful it is to want to dwell on things. The speaker advises the mourner not to stand around at the grave to only waste time with tears, since the speaker claims that they are not even present at the grave. Perhaps Frye wants people to see how time would be better spent if it were used to observe all the beautiful things in nature that are filled with life. A grave has a very stagnant connotation compared to all the other items Frye lists—while yes, there is stillness at a grave-site, the stillness feels more like something inactive or inert. The other items in the poem have a feeling of motion and animation compared to a grave. A grave even symbolizes death, and everything the speaker tells the mourner in the poem seems to be pleading for them to distance themselves from death. To die means a permanent “sleep” (2) to the speaker. Thus, we should all strive to be wakeful in this infinite lifespan that we have.

"Seeming" over "is-ing"?

In Hamlet, we continue to discuss the major theme of Perception versus Reality, or “seeming versus is-ing”. Subconsciously, we placed more importance on the “is-ing” side, feeling that it’s better to always have things as truly how they are, not just how they appear. After all, something that “is” implies that it is legitimate, and authenticity is an important value that we treasure.

I’d like to take a moment to justify the other side of the argument.

Without appearances, there would be no truth to compare falsehoods to. What we deem as “genuine” or “real” only comes to exist after we have established what isn't.

Take for example the human form. We all like to think that what makes and identifies us human is what’s on the inside—the emotions, the mindsets, the personalities, the soul. But since none of these things are visible or tangible, we rely on what we can actually see from a person—their physical appearance—and use that to identify people. Therefore, the outside body becomes the foundation for the identity.

Surely then, in the opening scenes, if Hamlet had worn cheery reds and golds like the rest of the kingdom and plastered a smile on his face, his genuine inner sadness would have been overlooked by Claudius and Gertrude. But it is because Hamlet reflected his internal feelings in his visible appearance, with his “inky cloak” and “suit of solemn black”, that it became of notice.

What happens, then, when the outward appearance of something loses its significance? Say I chose to express happiness by frowning instead of smiling? It would be hard for others to register that I was actually happy by looking at my face. Thus, the guise of something has a lot more influence and importance than we’d care to admit.

I’m looking forward to when we cover later on that legendary line of Hamlet’s: “To be or not to be”. It has much more meaning to it now. Could it be literally asking to be, to “is”, or not? To seem or not? That is the question. Whether we personally place more importance on seeming or “is-ing”, both are critical in the identification of something or someone. One could not “is” without seeming, and vice versa.

Since both are essential, I guess it comes back down to how we personally and individually view things. Like in Grendel, the importance lies in how Grendel feels, “I create the universe, blink by blink”. In the end, I guess what’s not important is if the other person “seems” or actually “is”, but how it is observed by you alone.

“To thine own self be true”?

Hamlet's visible influence

To me, the plot of Hamlet appears very soap opera-like. According to Wikipedia, some elements of the general soap opera are:

- “Soap opera storylines run concurrently, intersect and lead into further developments. An individual episode of a soap opera will generally switch between several different concurrent narrative threads that may at times interconnect and affect one another…”

- “…an emphasis on family life, personal relationships, sexual dramas, emotional and moral conflicts; some coverage of topical issues; set in familiar domestic interiors with only occasional excursions into new locations”

- “In many soap operas…the characters are frequently attractive, seductive, glamorous and wealthy”

- “Soap opera storylines sometimes weave intricate, convoluted, and sometimes confusing tales of characters who have affairs, meet mysterious strangers and fall in love, and who commit adultery, all of which keeps audiences hooked on the unfolding story twists.”

Sound familiar? Hamlet’s plot features all of these characteristics and appears to have part of the structural basis of a soap opera series. It more likely than not is the basis for a specific plot line in some stories, at the least, being Shakespeare’s most recognized play and therefore an influence to many succeeding works. Ironically, the synopsis of tomorrow’s episode of the notable soap opera The Young and the Restless even describes how one character discovers the truth regarding a serious accident, while another is haunted by memories of one killed in the accident (Source). Act 1, scene 5 much? Additionally, CBS lists the same soap opera’s biggest plot lines as being based around deviancy, rivalry, and most importantly, revenge (Source).

I guess this goes back to what Mrs. Clinch was saying before we started the play: as we read, we will begin to see how everything is Hamlet. “Everything is Hamlet. You and I are Hamlet. Life is Hamlet,” I believe her words were, and I’m beginning to see how this is true. Aside from soap operas, traces of Hamlet can be found in popular movies and novels. We know that Hamlet was the first work of literature to question the sham of everyday without easy answers, so perhaps all these succeeding adaptation-like works are more attempts to answers these tough questions regarding the futility and wrongs in life. After all, a major part of human existence is questioning.

I wonder what Shakespeare’s purpose was when he framed Hamlet in what we know today as a soap opera-like structure. Much of the inner workings and details of the plot are revealed in Hamlet’s personal soliloquies and events in which all the characters are not present with the main action of the play. Why did Hamlet hear about his father’s stealthy murder in the presence of a ghost? Why was Hamlet the only one to hear about his father’s murder? Why does Hamlet not immediately share with his peers what he discovered? This type of situational and dramatic irony is often a driving force found in soap operas, but during our read of this play it has become obvious that Hamlet is pretty close to being the original soap opera that started it all.