ICELAND ~ The Land of Sagas

Iceland is by far one of the most gorgeous places I have ever been. They call it the land of a thousand rainbows, though that could be because they have over 10,000 waterfalls dotting the countryside. Your first impression getting off the airplane may not be the greatest. The airport is located near the water, some ways away from Reykjavik, surrounded by lava fields. Not that the lava fields aren't neat, but if you land on a rainy day like I did you won't get to see much else. That is until the sun comes out (check out the pic to the right).

Even then, once you venture out to the countryside and away from Reykjavik the land becomes incredibly dynamic. Icelanders (of which there is only about 300,000 according to the 2008 census) still believe in elves, trolls, and giants. But don't ask them about it! They believes that talking about it can sometimes lead to attracting the attention of these mischievous creatures. Still, in taking one look at the surrounding landscape it isn't hard to see why.

Iceland's rocky landscape is mostly black, which just enhances the color of the shrubbery. It's craggy and the clouds are often low. It is reminiscent some ways of Scotland, and it brings the same feeling of the supernatural.

If geography doesn't entice you, this should; it's currency is currently valued way way way below the US dollar (or any other major currency for the matter). Reykjavik is also one of the world's biggest party locations. It is an incredibly young city and there are plenty of clubs, bars and restaurants to choose from. There are dive bars with live bands around every corner for those who want to get down with the locals; the ever clever (and ever touristy) ICEbar, made completely of ice; and clubs where you can find locals, English, Norwegians, and Irish there almost anytime of the year.

Anyway you slice it or dice it there is a little bit here for every adventurer. And for those afraid of flying - flights from NY are shorter to Iceland then to San Fransisco!

A neat time to go is for Iceland's Airwaves International Music Festival. It takes place during the rainy season, but the delicious foreigners more than make up for whatever scenery you might miss (and the music is pretty amazing as well)!

Fever by Ted Hughes

Ted Hughes is a incredibly successful poet in his own right, but he is perhaps most notable as being the once-husband of Sylvia Plath. He is criticized by her fans as contributing to her death through being unfaithful and later by destroying some of her unpublished works. There is a lot to be said for his work and his attempted marriage to Plath. He kept a strict media silence about their relationship, even till his death. In 1998 he published "Birthday Letters" which is a collection of poetry dedicated to his relationship with Plath. Fever is a part of that publication.

Fever - Ted Hughes
You had a fever. You had a real ailment.
You had eaten a baddie.
You lay helpless and a little bit crazy
With the fever. You cried for America
And its medicine cupboard. You tossed
On the immovable Spanish galleon of a bed
In the shuttered Spanish house
That the sunstruck outside glare peered into
As into a tomb. 'Help me,' you whispered, 'help me.'


You rambled. You dreamed you were clambering
Into the well-hatch and, waking, you wanted
To clamber into the well-hatch - the all-clear
Short cut to the cool of the water,
The cool of the dark shaft, the best place
To find oblivion from your burning tangle
And the foreign bug. You cried for certain
You were going to die.
I bustled about.
I was nursemaid. I fancied myself at that.
I liked the crisis of the vital role.
I felt things had become real. Suddenly mother,
As a familiar voice, woke in me.
She arrived with the certain knowledge. I made a huge soup.
Carrots, tomatoes, peppers and onions,
A rainbow stir of steaming elixir. You
Had to become a sluice, a conduit
Of pure vitamin C. I promised you,
This had saved Voltaire from the plague.
I had to saturate you and flush you
With this simmer of essences.
I spooned it
Into your helpless, baby-bird gape, gently,
Masterfully, patiently, hour by hour.
I wiped your tear-ruined face, your exhausted face,
All loose with woe and abandon.
I spooned more and you gulped it like life,
Sobbing 'I'm going to die.'
As I paused
Between your mouthfuls, I stared at the readings
On your dials. Your cry jammed so hard
Over into the red of catastrophe
Left no space for worse. And I thought
How sick is she? Is she exaggerating?
And I recoiled, just a little,
Just for balance, just for symmetry,
Into sceptical patience, a little.
If it can be borne, why make so much of it?
'Come on, now,' I soothed. 'Don't be so scared.
It's only a bug, don't let it run away with you.'

What I was really saying was: 'Stop crying wolf.'
Other thoughts, chilly, familiar thoughts,
Came across the tightrope: 'Stop crying wolf,
Or else I shall not know, I shall not hear
When things get really bad.'
It seemed easy
Watching such thoughts come up in such good time.
Plenty of time to think: 'She is crying
As if the most impossible of all
Horrible things had happened -
Had already happened, was going on
Still happening, with the whole world
Too late to help.' Then the blank thought
Of the anaesthesia that helps creatures
Under the polar ice, and the callous
That eases overwhelmed doctors. A twisting thought
Of the overload of dilemma, the white-out,
That brings baffled planarian worms to a standstill
Where they curl up and die.


You were overloaded. I said nothing.
I said nothing. The stone man made soup.
The burning woman drank it.


For me, this poem is obviously about Plath. "the burning woman" is a direct reference to her poem Lady Lazarus. In which she refers to herself like a phoenix, "I turn and burn...Out of the ash/ I rise with my red hair/ And I eat men like air." In LL she also admits attempting to kill herself once a decade. Plath was notoriously tortured by the idea of her own mortality. Fever I believe is Hughes expression of his frustration with her condition. Like in genesis it says the world was created in 7 days and we know that not to be true, this poem is the evolution of their relationship - or I should say his patience with their relationship. He goes from being the care-giver to the "stone man." You can read some fear from him here, how the consistency of her condition frightened him. He manages to make himself seem a little victimized, the constant care-giver whom "hour by hour" had to stay and nurse someone to health.

I find myself re-reading the first verse over and over again. It's made clear that he knew, or alternatively now knows, that she was indeed ill. How much of that is hind-sight and how much of that was in the moment is hard to tell. The way the poem is structured - with these four verses, two shorter ones bracketing two longer narratives, allows me to speculate. In my opinion the first and last verses are his opinion of what happened at the time this was written, well after Plath's death. Additionally, the first long narrative is a retelling of the time she had gotten sick in Spain and he had nursed her back to health. This section is arguably a metaphor for their entire marriage. The following narrative is his reasoning. His fears for her making him cold. In a way it is a convenient excuse, in a way it makes him very human.

A question to you: when he speaks of anaesthesia, do you think he is referring to himself or Plath? why?

Sons and Lovers -- D.H. Lawrence

Sons and Lovers by D.H. Lawrence

I love you, rotten,
Delicious rottenness.

I first discovered D.H. Lawrence in my Modern Poetry class as an undergraduate. Lawrence has a way with language that draws you in, makes you feel as if you are apart of the scene as he experiences it. You see the snake lift his head and wonder; you taste the bitter morbidity of the Marsala. His poems could cast a kind of spell on me, if you have not read them I highly recommend you go here and check a few out.

Now, enough about poetry and onto the book. Sons and Lovers is probably a very controversial book to pick as a first review, but you know what? If you can't take it, get out of my blog.

I heard about this books reputation long before I ever picked it up. It is am semi-autobiographical book, one of his earliest. It depicts, among other things, possible incest, domestic abuse, emotional abuse, euthanization, a family torn apart, and promises no happy endings.

But, was it good? Yeah, I think so.

The book is split up into two parts: The story of Gertrude Morel and her son Paul Morel (The book was originally called Paul Morel and admittedly his part is about twice the size of hers - though there is a lot of blurring). The first third of the book, Gertrude's story, is really a large set up. You learn how she fell in love with her undereducated, coal-mining husband (he was essentially a rebound) and how she slowly learns to hate him. He drinks a lot, is horrible with money and is abusive; her logical disobedience sets him off; and eventually their children learn to hate him as well. As a reader, there are moments were I pity him, but mostly I feel he brings his own isolation on himself. Gertrude's only solace is in her children, William, Annie, Paul and Aurthur. Principally though she puts her hopes and her dreams into their oldest boy, William.

Their is obvious and deep affection between Gertrude and William, I do not believe there is anything unhealthy about their relationship. When he begins to see "Gypsy" - a well to-do, but uneducated girl, who loves to dress up - his mother advises him against the match; but ultimately tells him he must do what he feels is right. This is a strong foil to how she eventually treats Paul's relationship with Miriam.

It is while William is away in London that we get our first impressions of Paul. Paul is a sensitive and sickly boy who clings to his mother. She worries about him and always felt he would die. Paul also never liked his father and as a baby hated to be held by him. After Willaim's sudden death Gertrude is able to make it to his bed-side, but if unable to come to terms with her loss for months. Paul falls ill with Pneumonia and she spends all winter nursing him back to health. It is mentioned that Gertrude's sister believes that his illness saves Gertrude. It also gives Gertrude the opportunity to create an even stronger bond with Paul then she had Willaim. She puts all her hopes and dreams from William into Paul. This is when Paul's story really starts.

Paul's life is really defined by the three women that he loves. His mother, Miriam and Clara. His mother is the supreme being of his life- all encompassing; Miriam is his first love - filled with innocence and intimacy; Clara is his second love - filled with exploration and passion. Much of Paul’s story consists of his half-attempts to love anyone as much as he does his mother and the constant returning to her.

Miriam is the love of his life; they are intense in their intimacy. They grow up together, explore and worship the world together. Their love, fragile as it is, is stunningly beautiful. Paul describes it: "In contact with Miriam, he gained insight, his vision went deeper. From his mother he drew the life warmth, the strength to produce; Miriam urged this warmth into intensity like a white light," (p. 190). Lawrence portrays the way they learn from one another as almost religious experiences.

But what ultimately destroys this relationship is the jealousy of Gertrude. "She could feel Paul being drawn away by this girl. And she did not care for Miriam. 'She is one of those who will want to suck a man's soul out till he has none of his own left,' she said to herself,' and he is just such a gaby as to let himself be absorbed. She will never let him become a man, she never will.'" (p. 196). She is constantly against Miriam. It is a testament to how strongly Paul feels for Miriam that he doesn’t give her up completely. Several times throughout the book he pulls away from Miriam for his mother. Which bring about “The Scene” – the one with all the insinuated incest. *MAJOR SPOILERS* If you want to skip that scene, you are more than able, it doesn't come as a surprise. However, I will tell you right now, nothing explicitly sexual happens. Well, at least as I interpreted the scene – let’s discuss why.

In the scene Gertrude is beside herself with jealousy. She is slowly getting sicker and sicker, her love for her husband has burnt out, and she feels as if Paul is going to leave her. She is hysterical in this scene. She raves about how she has tried to like Miriam but can’t. Paul swears to his mother that he doesn’t love Miriam and that she shouldn’t be worried (he does this often throughout the book, I am unsure if he is lying or if his love for his mother is so encompassing that in those moments he doesn’t love Miriam). Gertrude starts clinging to him and holding him close and she says that she never really had a husband, about a paragraph later she kisses Paul “fervently”.

Alright, I am not trying to say that it isn’t a little off. It is. I think she was just loosing it. I do however want to concentrate on the word – fervent. Here are a list of thesaurus terms for fervent: animated, ardent, blazing, burning, devout, earnest, ecstatic, emotional, enthused, excited, fervid, fiery, glowing, heartfelt, hearty, hopped up, hot, hot for, hot-blooded, impassioned, intense, passionate, perfervid, pious, religious, responsive, serious, sincere, tender, unfeigned, vehement, warm, warmhearted, wholehearted, zealous. There is a distinct split in use for the word fervent. There is the hot-blooded definition and the use of it as a religious adjective.

I do not doubt that Lawrence did this on purpose. I bring this up mainly because I do not believe Gertrude is attracted to Paul. I do however think she sees him as her avatar. She has put all of herself in him and therefor demands his obedience. She fears loosing him because it would mean the loss of self as well. The debate is ongoing as to Lawrence's purpose, if you have another view please feel free to comment.

The book continues to after Gertrude's death. The ending, as I mentioned above, is not a happy one. It isn't completely miserable either, though it leaves one wanting. All in all I give it 3.5 stars out of 5.

3.5 / 5 stars