Week 2 - Post
Here's my impressions of The Clod and the Pebble by William Blake.
After reading it, I began to think that I liked it. Its ryhming style was unlike any I had came across before (perhaps due more to my uncultured reading history than Blake's inventiveness - but that remains to be seen). I enjoyed its symmetry and the way that the reader does not know who or what is talking in the first stanza until the second one has began. The way each message is carefully yet subtly changed is quite interesting and something that requires some mulitple readings before comprehension is attained. I'm sure that I will need to read it again to try and work out exactly what is going on.
However.
I had a niggling little question that had sprouted in some dark recess of my tiny mind. Despite trying to convince myself of being enamoured with its artistic dexterity and poise I could not shake this stupid question from its grip on me. The more I wanted to sing praises, the more I wanted to give credence to this annoying gnat of a question. Finally I could no longer resist and let my whole appreciation for the piece of work be decided by the following thought: why are two obviously inanimate objects with no soul, mind or reason for being discussing the motivations of love? I mean, one is a lump of dirt, the other is a rock. End of story. Not being able to adequately satsify this curiosity, I convinced my better judgement to look upon this writing with a lot more disdain than it is probably worth.
Obviously having missed the point,
Chris.