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Bezig met laden... Helen in Egyptdoor Hilda Doolittle
The Trojan War (83) Bezig met laden...
Meld je aan bij LibraryThing om erachter te komen of je dit boek goed zult vinden. Op dit moment geen Discussie gesprekken over dit boek. H.D. picks up on the alternate story that Helen spent the Trojan War in Egypt and took Achilles as her lover -- or did she? The myth retold, in tercets with echoes of terza rima, is a feminist dialectic examining the conflict of patriarchal, militant Command and mystical, hieratic eroticism. It is H.D.'s response to the horrors of WWI and WWII. Is there another stronger than Love’s mother? is there one other, Discordia, Strife? Eris is sister of Ares, His unconquerable child is Eros; did Ares bequeath his arrows alike to Eros, to Eris? O flame-tipped, O searing, O tearing burning, destructible fury of the challenge to the fairest; O flame-tipped, O searing, destroying arrow of Eros; O bliss of the end, Lethe, Death and forgetfulness, O bliss of the final unquestioned nuptial kiss. geen besprekingen | voeg een bespreking toe
Prijzen
The fabulous beauty of Helen of Troy is legendary. But some say that Helen was never in Troy, that she had been conveyed by Zeus to Egypt, and that Greeks and Trojans alike fought for an illusion. A fifty-line fragment by the poet Stesichorus of Sicily (c. 640-555 B.C.), what survives of his Pallinode, tells us almost all we know of this other Helen, and from it H. D. wove her book-length poem. Yet Helen in Egypt is not a simple retelling of the Egyptian legend but a recreation ofthe many myths surrounding Helen, Paris, Achilles, Theseus, and other figures of Greek tradition, fused with the mysteries of Egyptian hermeticism. Geen bibliotheekbeschrijvingen gevonden. |
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Google Books — Bezig met laden... GenresDewey Decimale Classificatie (DDC)811.52Literature English (North America) American poetry 20th Century 1900-1945LC-classificatieWaarderingGemiddelde:
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the white fire of unnumbered stars,
rather than that single taper
burning in an onyx jar?
This is a tale of veils and ramparts, the gaze of the author and perhaps a refracted mirror of personal/mental matters drifting awry. Helen in Egypt is a palimpsest, a blotted scribbling--a flight from Troy to the darkened cults of Osiris. I kept heeding Doolittle's advice and pleaded incessantly aloud to learn how not to remember. Time adds folds and our persistent treading leaves torn sandals and a dimming vigor. There is an ancient rhythm on display. There is a little and crest. Heroes fall and odes warble across the centuries. I finished this meditation on our porch on a September morning, one whose beauty was almost indecent. ( )