words to inspire before you expire
“‘He’s a good chap in his way. Serious. Not one of those noisy bastards at the Continental. A quiet American,’ I summed him precisely up, as I might have said, ‘A blue lizard,’ ‘A white elephant.’
Vigot said, “Yes.” He seemed to be looking for words on his desk with which to convey his meaning as precisely as I had done. ‘A very quiet American.'”
—from The Quiet American by Graham Greene
Good morning, class.
I had the pleasure of reading Alice Walker’s The Color Purple for the first time, knowing only that it is very controversial. But I had no idea it was so beautiful.
It tells the story of two Southern African-American sisters separated for years, keeping in touch through a series of letters to each other and to God. Celie, who is stuck in cycles of abuse and violence, finds love with another woman and transforms her life. Nettie has been sent as a missionary to Africa, where she discovers culture and history that change her worldview forever. Celie and Nettie remain in love with each other across time and distance.
The 1982 novel was adapted into film by Steven Spielberg in 1985, and it debuted as a musical in 2004.
Lovely Hoffman as Celie in the musical adaptation of The Color Purple
The novel may be more popular because of its controversy. It doesn’t censor itself—it is explicit with elements of abuse and sex. It brazenly portrays adultery and homosexuality. Its language and content are perfect catalysts for court cases and a quick book banning.
To be clear, this particular quality is in the novel’s favor. It holds back nothing. In my professional opinion, censorship that reacts directly to elements like adultery and homosexuality is indicative of a culture that knows what’s “best” for it’s mindless population. It is also a direct form of discrimination.
But the politics aren’t as important to me as the art. I’ve been around the literary block enough times to see that when a novel tosses the moral rule-book out the window, it lets the story tell something more beautiful. The choice to disregard right and wrong help us question right and wrong, and give us the ability to decide for ourselves what right and wrong mean…rather than adhering to the ideas of someone else. The R-rated movies, the TV-MA programs, and the books constantly challenged by censorship laws are the ones that help us evolve.
That’s what The Color Purple has to offer—a more beautiful story, a question about traditional rules and morals, and a chance to evolve. Celie’s discovery of her own sexuality matches Nettie’s discovery of African history and heritage. Though their physical journeys are different, their spiritual journeys are parallel.
Author Alice Walker
If I have to pick a favorite moment in their respective journeys, its their growth in their ideas about God. They both begin to see God in a way that flaunts tradition, dismissing the image of the larger, bearded white man, dressed in white, standing at the gates of heaven. Maybe God is less white, and less man. Maybe God is everything: the trees, the flowers, the earth, the universe. God isn’t restricted by the confines of Biblical imagery.
The novel also works in a way that un-writes history. These characters live in the past, and they exist on the fringes of society. No one is paying them attention. As they make discoveries, those discoveries are forgotten by the larger public because these characters’ opinions don’t matter to anyone else.
That’s part of the brilliance of the novel—Alice Walker shows us that characters like these existed then and exist now, and will continue to exist. Their story matters. They are human beings, minority or not. And in a world that seems to constantly forget facts like that, it’s important to say it again here.
Next, I’ll be reading Graham Greene’s The Quiet American. I’m excited because I know it predicted many elements of the Vietnam conflict in American history…any novel that sees where the world is headed, even when the rest of the world can’t, earns thumbs up from me.
Until next time,
Prof. Jeffrey
“Listen, God love everything you love—and a mess of stuff you don’t. But more than anything else, God love admiration.
You saying God vain? I ast.
Naw, she say. Not vain, just wanting to share a good thing. I think it pisses God off if you walk by the color purple in a field somewhere and don’t notice it.”
—from The Color Purple by Alice Walker
“And when I come here, say Shug, I treated you so mean. Like you was a servant. And all because Albert married you. And I didn’t even want him for a husband, she say. I never wanted Albert for a husband. But just to choose me, you know, cause nature had already done it. Nature said, You two folks, hook up, cause you a good example of how it sposed to go. I didn’t want nothing to be able to go against that. But what was good tween us must have been nothing but bodies, she say. Cause I don’t know the Albert that don’t dance, can’t hardly laugh, never talk bout nothing, beat you and hid your sister Nettie’s letters. Who he?”
—from The Color Purple by Alice Walker
Welcome back, class. Today, we’re talking about the best in poetry (according to Prof. Jeffrey).
I didn’t really start appreciating poetry in full until college, when I started to see the variety it could offer. Poetry is different for everyone; for me, it’s about taking any topic (anything’s up for grabs) and writing about it in a careful, artistic way. Prose adheres to the rules of grammar, but poetry adheres to its own rules—rules about structure, rhyme, meter, sound, etc. It also reserves the right to toss those rules out the window, which makes every poem unique and surprising.
I’ve selected my favorite poems from each poet below, with links to Poets.org for the full piece. These aren’t poems you have to read before you die, but they get five stars each from me—so they’ve got that going for them, which is nice.
(As a kind of disclaimer, please note that I’ve only chosen English poetry…I have zero expertise in poetry from other languages, and I wish I did. So these are the best poems out of America and English-speaking Europe.)
It’s one of Shakespeare’s most popular sonnets, and it’s a classic. As much as love is a topic in his plays, his ideas about love are almost completely summed up here. It’s about love that’s uncompromising and stands the test of time, and it’s told in Shakespeare’s beautiful (if somewhat difficult) poetic language. And for the reputation poetry has on love, “Sonnet 116” is the only through-and-through love poem on my list.
This is another sonnet, though with a much more unconventional poetry topic: power and decay. It tells the story of an ancient king, whose statue and kingdom have collapsed over time. It’s built in frames, as told by “a traveler from an antique land” and moving back in time from there. To me, it foreshadows the decay of old poetry (and it’s rules) for the changes to come of the modern world.
I have an obsession for dashes—one that can only be matched by Emily Dickinson’s poetry. I love many of her poems, but this one in particular has always struck me with power. Before the term “seasonal depression” was used in psychological circles, this poem described it perfectly—the light in winter afternoons that hangs heavily on the speaker, the hurt without a scar, the despair in the air. It conveys much about Dickinson’s art and pain, and it does it beautifully.
Poetry rarely gives insight into the apocalypse, but Yeats is a rare poet. This is his poem about the world collapsing around him (maybe as partly inspired by Shelley’s “Ozymandias”) from war, rebellion, and uncertainty. Here, he portrays the second coming of Jesus, and it’s not pretty—it’s a beast, which “slouches toward Bethlehem to be born.” This poem is chilling and terrible, and it’s modern poetry at it’s darkest and best.
I chose this poem because of how much it hurts. Hughes wrote it in the early 20th Century, and it sounds as if he’s writing about our country today. It talks about America as a dream, and it may be real someday, but it isn’t America now and it never has been. This country was founded on freedom that didn’t exist—freedom that allowed slavery, sexism, and class systems. The speaker is hoping that someday, America will be what it should be, and I choose it as one of my favorites because I hope so too.
This is one of the most versatile poems I’ve ever read—it can be interpreted in so many ways, but it’s simple enough to understand on the surface. A person catches a fish and admires it, and is so overwhelmed by its beauty that they let it go. The imagery is incredible, and it is a full step away from the traditional rules of poetry. No single meter, no active use of rhyme—just poetry at its finest.
Maya Angelou is the embodiment of inspiration, and so is her poetry. “Still I Rise” is simple, original, and powerful—it seems like only she could have written it. To read it is to feel like she’s there, laughing with you at those that oppress her; I recommend finding a version of this poem with her reading it. It is a poetic anthem that speaks to the human spirit and to the full force of poetry.
This is the tip of the iceberg—there’s so much poetry out there that has changed the world. Your homework: let me know in the comments what other poems are your favorites! Any poetry is good poetry to the reader who loves it.
See you next time,
Prof. Jeffrey
“She say, All my life I had to fight. I had to fight my daddy. I had to fight my brothers. I had to fight my cousins and my uncles. A girl child ain’t safe in a family of men. But I never thought I’d have to fight in my own house. She let out her breath. I loves Harpo, she say. God knows I do. But I’ll kill him dead before I let him beat me.”
—from The Color Purple by Alice Walker
“Dear God,
He beat me today cause he say I winked at a boy in church. I may have got somethin in my eye but I didn’t wink. I don’t even look at mens. That’s the truth. I look at women, tho, cause I’m not scared of them…”
—from The Color Purple by Alice Walker
Good morning, class.
In college, back when I was a student (just like you!), I took a class called Chaucer and Medieval Literature—over half of our class time was dedicated to The Canterbury Tales. Chaucer only completed 22 of the “tales,” which is about one-fifth of the full-length compilation he planned to write. That class was hard enough as it was, so I can’t imagine it multiplied by five.
But I liked studying The Canterbury Tales (sometimes more than reading it). It’s intricate, boundary-breaking, and foundational for just about every major piece of literature after it. It’s actually comparable to the Bible—for all it’s culturally-insensitive flaws, it is one of the building blocks of modern literature.
Just make sure someone’s there to help you understand it, like a professor. A real professor. Not a blogger. And please, just avoid the Middle English if you know what’s good for you.
The Canterbury Tales is about a lot of stuff, but it’s mostly about telling stories. A group of pilgrims are journeying to Canterbury, and they tell each other stories to pass the time—whoever tells the best story wins the competition. It’s a little mundane, but the stories they tell are diverse and multifaceted. Many of the tales are crude, especially those that use rape as a comic plot device. It’s always hard to look past. But a handful of these stories are, simply put, good. My favorites are the Wife of Bath’s Tale, the Pardoner’s Tale, and the Nun’s Priest’s Tale.
The Wife of Bath’s Tale is one of the most feminist things medieval literature has to offer—it even holds up well today. After a knight’s rape of a girl, his punishment is to go out and find what women want most. A woman he meets claims to know the answer, but he must give her something in return—he must marry her. He agrees, but instantly regrets it because of her age and poverty. But she proves to him what she claims women want: sovereignty—power over men, which men consistently have over women. She gives him a choice between two options, neither of which he wants, so he tells her to decide, which she wanted all along.
The Pardoner’s Tale is probably my favorite—when I read it in high school, I recognized it instantly as the inspiration for “The Tale of the Three Brothers” in the Harry Potter franchise. Three men set out to conquer Death, and they come across a treasure that they won’t share. They each end up killing each other out of greed, and Death takes each of them without hesitation.
The Nun’s Priest’s Tale is probably the most genuinely enjoyable of the tales—it’s about a talking rooster who has a dream about his eminent death by a fox. He is convinced that it’s a sign, but his hen convinces him otherwise. He goes about his business, and when a fox actually does catch him, the rooster outsmarts the fox and escapes, making for a happy ending.
The Canterbury Pilgrims, Blake, William (1757 – 1827, English)
There are a lot of good high school English reasons to read The Canterbury Tales. Historical context, frame story, character study, themes and symbols…I can already see the unit plan. It’s just a good piece of literature to study.
But I like to think there’s a good reason to read it, in the same way one would read any other book on the 50-books list. As luck would have it, my previous book provides the answer—Life of Pi by Yann Martel. The climax of Life of Pi involves the choice between two stories, and which one is “better.” That’s the crux of the competition in The Canterbury Tales—choosing the best story.
This isn’t the kind of story you read on a Saturday curled up in a comfy chair…it’s the kind of story that you study and slave over. But it proves that big, important literature is on the same level as your comfy-chair-book. The Canterbury Tales is a big, epic-scale piece of literature about the importance of stories. Stories guide us and nurture us, and they reach out to us across time and space to give us meaning. There are many novels that can help you see that, but Geoffrey Chaucer made it happen first.
Up next, I’m trying The Color Purple by Alice Walker. I’ve never read it before, so I’m walking into it blind. It’s been a while since I’ve done that with a book, so I’m definitely excited!
Until next time,
Prof. Jeffrey
“‘My liege lady, generally,’ said he,
‘Women desire to have sovereignty
As well as over their husbands as their loves,
And to be in mastery them above.'”
—from “The Wife of Bath’s Tale” of The Canterbury Tales by Geoffrey Chaucer
“When April comes and with its showers sweet
Has, to the root, pierced March’s drought complete,
And then bathed every vein in such elixir
That, by its strength, engendered is the flower;
. . .
Then folks, too, long to go on pilgrimage,
And palmers hope to seek there, on strange strands,
Those far-off shrines well known in many lands.”
—from “The General Prologue” of The Canterbury Tales by Geoffrey Chaucer
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