The Struggles of Reading Poetry
As seen in the poems of Plath and Angelou
I’ve been struggling to write recently. My mind seems confused after only a few words rendering it incapable of sowing a competent sentence. Even though I suspected it to be exhaustion, the issue lied more with the idea of me struggling to read aptly. Poetry isn’t alien to me. I’ve accustomed myself to reading different genres of it and do not assume a problem in analysing a piece. Recently though, I’ve found myself less able to decipher and naturally differentiate the variation of expressions in even renowned poets. More specifically, my analyses of the poems by Sylvia Plath and Maya Angelou have felt incomplete.
Plath versus Angelou
Both Plath and Angelou are recognised as prolific writers. Their command over the language, and the manner in which they manipulate it to project meaning is astounding. My understanding leads me to declare them both ‘theatric’ in their expression.
Plath often incorporating rich imagery in exclamatory manners, beside allusions (excerpts from her poem Ariel):
“How one we grow,
Pivot of heels and knees!”“Black sweet blood mouthfuls,
Shadows.”“White
Godiva, I unpeel–”
Angelou relying on enjambment to express her speaker’s frustrations (excerpts from her poem Caged Bird):
“A free bird leaps
on the back of the wind
and floats downstream
till the current ends”“The caged bird sings
with a fearful trill
of things unknown
but longed for still”
Admittedly so, my analysis of Angelou’s poem has been more thorough than of Plath’s. Although, this lack of completion in my analysis stems from Plath’s ability to stun me with her language, overwhelm me with such incredible images and references.
I’ve not struggled to analyse all of Plath’s works, but rather been antagonised more by the poems I’ve found great difficulty in interpreting.
I don’t know how to read her Ariel which readers hail to be magnificent. Even if the liking of her poem is subjective, I need to hold enough reason and be fair if I like or dislike it — which doesn’t seem possible if I am unable to read her poem adequately. Angelou’s writing, being relatively simpler to understand allows for a quicker comprehension, but I’m still left unsure of the sufficiency of my read of her work.
Paralysis in Analysis
In this Ted-Ed video, Iseult Gillespie talks about Plath voicing trauma in her works. Even as I suppose Plath’s allusion to Lady Godiva and her horse (“White Godiva”) linking to her sinister depictions of “[b]lack sweet blood mouthfuls”, I’m left still contemplating the exact nature of her trauma.
Does it relate to a similar experience of escape as Lady Godiva’s? Is it bound by angst and fright?
Plath’s expressions are incredibly figurative. It bothers me that my best aid in understanding her works is either academia or illusionary meaning. The former proposes an innate paradox too, as to understand the academia I must have a thorough understanding of Plath, which I seek to gain via the academia. The latter is just fiction, and an attempt would unfairly render Plath’s work only satisfactory.
I’ve probably re-read Ariel over seven times now in an attempt to analyse it, and I’ve never struggled with a poem more. Even still the only parts which I’m able to make sense of trace back to the allusion and a sense of pain which is expressed through the menacing images.
What makes me particularly nervous is not knowing the exact manner in which I can improve this, similar to how one struggles to read different poets. Even though I’ve deduced Plath to be more ‘expressive’ and Angelou ‘commentary’, it doesn’t particularly help my understanding of Plath’s work beyond the surface.
This in my opinion, leads to a paralysis in analysis.
If academic essays or papers aren’t of aid in understanding a poet’s work, should we foster more discussions?
Relative to academic works, discussions are less complicated to understand. There’s an immediate method of simplifying one’s points and they can be questioned to understand the statements better. Possibly you can get an instant addition to your opinion, perhaps as a support for your reasoning.
I didn’t see a similar struggle when reading Angelou’s works, and was able to identify the symbolism fairly easily. But I cannot declare it to be necessarily ‘better’ on this merit. The obscure conclusion that I fear we may have to accept, is that we cannot simply ever ‘read’ poetry.
Why Plath and Angelou
Even though we know of poetry inviting ‘deeper meanings’, we often discount a thorough analysis while reading it. We expect a complete understanding of the poem through a read of it. In having examined the works of Plath and Angelou, these statements have been confirmed in being immensely flawed.
I compare Plath and Angelou because they’re similar thematically, but usher a radically unique manner of expression. Arguably they both talk about trauma:
Plath of her anxiety around her sickness, and Angelou about the pain induced by a sense of oppression.
Plath’s Dream with Clam-Diggers, a disturbing exploration of anxiety-produced nightmares, was a poem I was able to analyse with greater ease than Ariel.
Coincidentally, the aforementioned poem too, incorporates a theme of journeying, lensed through the protagonists’ return. Plath’s trademark of brilliant, invigorating language is used to show this journeyed woman’s pain, almost imprisoning her in this desolate environment:
“Stained after tedious pilgrimages”
“High against heaven, gulls went wheeling soundless”
“Grim as gargoyles from years spent squatting at sea’s border”
In a narrative where the character grows to express disgust at her “early sea-town home”, there’s a vivid sign of Plath’s own anxiety manifesting itself in the poem. This could very well stem from the traumatic event of her father’s passing away in 1940, causing them to relocate away from her home at the seashores. It stains your nostalgia for home. Once a place of comfort now stands as a reminder of a mammoth loss.
I would never have known this through one read of this work. Having the probable context of this trauma, I can perhaps understand better why academics were able to identify themes of said trauma in her writing.
Could Ariel, and the allusion of Lady Godiva comment on a similar fright against relocating?
By no means is Plath only a ‘satisfactory’ writer, as my inadequate attempt at analysing Ariel would suggest. But how am I to know of her writing magnificence, if the richness of her poems intimidate me?
To fear a poem is definitely my own fault. It’s cowardly. In cases like Plath, where I found myself struggling in analysis, I turned to ‘simpler’ poems as an attempt to remind myself of my analytic capabilities. Ironic and counterproductive though.
Is that what makes us struggle when we read poetry?
Angelou’s Caged Bird is a wonderful commentary on the boons of oppression.
Published in 1983, a decade where the ideology of feminism was rapidly growing, she cites the bird of the poem to be a symbol for the oppressed women. Exploring the depths of the bird’s envy at seeing the “leaps” of the “free bird”, she shows the “caged bird” longing for an escape:
“The caged bird sings
with a fearful trill”“[f]or the caged bird
sings of freedom.”“But a caged bird stands on the grave of dreams
his shadow shouts on a nightmare scream”
Her use of rhyme is immaculate. Even still the symbol of the “caged bird” is very well put, and is dynamic enough to represent the oppression of minorities today. Angelou’s works too, require context. While the themes of suffering via oppression is vivid through a read or two, knowing that she influenced the growth and spread of feminism improves the analysis of her poem significantly.
In a similar manner, the association of rebellion to the work allows for a tonal shift in reading too, requiring the reader to garner more passion in the process.
The deeper meaning to the poem is helped by contextualising their pieces, and to simulate the poems in the twenty-first century might prove unsuccessful if the topics of their poems are endemic to the 1900s.
Poetry When Read
Even as I was writing this essay, my reading of the cited poems changed through every analysis of mine. I didn’t and couldn’t plan it, but investing myself in Plath’s works did enhance my knowledge of academic works around her — enough to gain a better sense of her poetic works.
I still struggle to analyse Ariel. While I marvel at Plath’s language depth, I’m overwhelmed by her manipulation of it in Ariel. Angelou’s poems do not intimidate me, and my readings of her work differ vehemently than Plath’s. That is still not enough ground for me to dismiss Angelou’s works.
I prefer a richness in language in poetry than the wit in poetic commentary. Plath, hence, seems to intrigue me more.
I’m still unsure of how either of their works are to be read, and I’m unsure about what may convince me of my accuracy of their reading.
Discussions, similar to academic works are forums of theory, backed by reasoned arguments. There’s equal merit in assuming fright in the tone in Caged Bird, as there is in assuming a determination to surmount. Perhaps Angelou’s smuggled aspects of both, and summons a phenomenal presentation of exhaustive change.
Poetry, as I echo, seeks to be devoured. Completing the bare act of just ‘reading’ it is disrespectful (Lessons About “Insta-Poetry” From a Poetry Snob).
I’ve echoed this sentiment thoroughly and perhaps will have to, again.
Reading Plath and Angelou’s works have revived my ability to comprehend sentences in a freer manner. Infusing me with this intrigue to examine more works and have them discussed. They awaken my curiosity and tease it with a slumber when I seem to have analysed them, but they’re disturbed further as each examination reveals more complexities.
It’s a struggle to read poetry. A written form too immensely complex, it levels your emotions though ardent representations of humour and perforating displays of horror. Even through eras and centuries it has seen variations in its moulding. Yet in horror, humour, enlightenment or sympathy, has entranced the reader into an awe.
