THE WASTE LAND
The Burial of the Dead
It's not the
cheeriest of starts, and it gets even drearier from there. The poem's speaker
talks about how spring is an awful time of year, stirring up memories of bygone
days and unfulfilled desires. Then the poem shifts into specific childhood
memories of a woman named Marie. This is followed by a description of tangled,
dead trees and land that isn't great for growing stuff. Suddenly, you're in a
room with a "clairvoyant" or spiritual medium named Madame Sosostris,
who reads you your fortune. And if that weren't enough, you then watch a crowd
of people "flow[ing] over London Bridge" like zombies (62). Moving
right along…
A Game of Chess
You are transported to
the glittery room of a lavish woman, and you notice that hanging from the wall
is an image of "the change of Philomel," a woman from Greek myth who was raped by King Tereus and then changed into a nightingale. Some anxious person
says that their nerves are bad, and asks you to stay the night. This is
followed by a couple of fragments vaguely asking you what you know and
remember. The section finishes with a scene of two women chatting and trying to
sneak in a few more drinks before closing time at the bar.
The Fire Sermon
Section three opens
with a speaker who's hanging out beside London'sRiver Thames and
feeling bad about the fact that there's no magic left in the world. The focus
swoops back to the story of Philomel for a second, then another speaker talks about how he
might have been asked for weekend of sex by a "Smyrna merchant"
(209). Next, you're hearing fromTiresias, a blind prophet from myth who was turned into a woman for
seven years by the goddess Hera. You hear about a
scene where a modern young man and woman—both not much to look at—are having
this really awful, loveless sex. Finally, you overhear someone singing a
popular song, which in the context of this poem just sounds depressing.
Death By Water
In a brief scene, you
watch as a dead sailor named Phlebas decays at the bottom of the ocean, and the
poem tells you to think of this young man whenever you start feeling too proud.
Good tip, T.S.
What the Thunder
Said
Section five takes you
to a stony landscape with no water. There are two people walking, and one
notices in his peripheral vision that a third person is with them. When he
looks over, though, this other person disappears (it's like one of those
squiggly lines that dance in the corner of your eye). In a dramatic moment,
thunder cracks over the scene, and its noise seems to say three words in
Sanskrit: Datta, Dayadhvam, and Damyata, which
command you to "Give," "Sympathize," and
"Control." This is followed by a repetition of the word Shantih,
which means "the peace that passeth all understanding." After all
that slogging, T.S. maybe gives us a little hope with this final word. Then
again, maybe not.
