If anyone would be willing to critique here, I would appreciate it.
On Thirteen Ways of Looking at a Blackbird
Wallace Stevens’ poem titled “Thirteen Ways of Looking at a Blackbird” is a fantastic voyage into the minds of one of the most enigmatic minds of American Literature. In thirteen stanzas, Stevens grants us various ways to see a humble figure, the blackbird, but also various ways to look through his eyes at a world that isn’t quite as sensible as it proclaims itself to be. This seemingly purposely broken and stilted poem is of an utterly bare aesthetic, laconic in nature to a fault. Some of the shorter segments, particularly I, II, and IX, are highly reminiscent of haiku, although they lack the syllabic structure to be so. The poem itself is highly symbolic in nature, referencing not only blackbirds, but also shadows, weather, water and women multiple times, all of which have huge quantities of possible interpretive meanings.
Stanza I reads: “Among twenty snowy mountains,- The only moving thing- Was the eye of the blackbird,” (773). Here, Stevens seems to be opening with an allusion to the reader. With twenty, or any number of things, that weigh on the mind of the reader or the writer, the only thing moving is the eye of the reader amongst the snowy paper that the print is on. The eye is important in this line of thought, in that the reader will be seeing everything that goes on through the figurative eyes of Stevens and his blackbirds. In contrast, the blackbird may have nothing to do with a reader at all, and the blackness there implied could easily be the ink from a pen moving onto the pristine white snow of paper.
Stanza II reads: “I was of three minds, - Like a tree- In which there are three blackbirds,” (773). The three facets of the Freudian apparatus of the Id, Ego, and Superego are instantly what spring to mind, as a person, according to Freud, is little more than the tree in which the blackbirds sit and dictate their actions. Furthermore, Holly Stevens, Wallace and Elsie’s daughter, in Warner Berthoff’s book, “A Literature Without Qualities,” describes Elsie as having “a persecution complex which undoubtedly originated during her childhood, and which I was unable to understand for a long time,” (146). Considering that, by many accounts, Elsie Kachel Stevens was deeply disturbed, and that she suffered severe mental illness later in life, the Stevens family must have been acquainted with the psychoanalysis of the day, of which Freud was a renowned leader.
Stanza III continues: “The blackbird whirled in the autumn winds, - It was a small part of the pantomime,” (774). Given that Wallace Stevens was born in 1879 (766), as of this poem, he would have been 44 years old, which is old enough to feel the effects of age, and could have put him into the beginning of the autumn of his own life, at least in his own mind. Furthermore, a life of daily toil in the business and law world can easily feel like a pantomime of life, not really living, but continuing to age and feel the aches and pains that come with the relentless advancement of time.
Stanza IV follows as: “A man and a woman - Are one. - A man and a woman and a blackbird - Are one,” (774). The blackbird is often associated with trickery, darkness, gloom, and danger. Going back to his relationship with his wife, Stevens was extraordinarily careful, and militaristically totalitarian, in his dealings with her. According to Katha Pollitt of the New York Times, “Stevens dominated her from the beginning -most bizarrely, by issuing minute instructions about what she should wear on his visits,” (par. 7). He also seemed to have an extremely strained relationship with his wife, and Pollitt explains, “After they married, often Elsie would be sent back to Pennsylvania, her proposed returns delayed by Stevens for weeks with excuses about the New York heat or a rug that hadn't yet come back from the cleaners,” (par. 7). Perhaps Wallace Stevens thought that every relationship has the burden of flaws, both of the partner and of oneself.
Stanza V reads: “I do not know which to prefer, - The beauty of inflections – Or the beauty of innuendoes, - The blackbird whistling – Or just after,” (774). To a contemplative person, the challenges of dealing with people can be rewarding, but exhausting. The mental fatigue may be worth the effort, but the meditative silence of solitude can be serene and tranquil. From a completely different angle, Stevens often visited warm and sunny Florida on business, and “he found the contrast between the South’s lush vegetation and tropical climate and the chilly austerity of New England a useful metaphor for opposing ways of imagining the world,” (766).
Stanza VI continues: “Icicles filled the long window – With barbaric glass. - The shadow of the blackbird – Crossed it, to and fro. – The mood – Traced in the shadow – An indecipherable cause,” (774). This particular passage is actually somewhat reminiscent of a song about blackbirds by The Beatles, “Blackbird singing in the dead of night- Take these broken wings and learn to fly – All your life – You were only waiting for this moment to arise,” (The Beatles, Side 2, Song 3.) Both use imagery of a blackbird and darkness, shadow in the case of Stevens, and a feeling of bleakness in the face of untapped potential. The sun will rise, wings will heal, and icicles will melt, and then the world, at least for the blackbirds, will be right again.
Stanza VII reads: “O thin men of Haddam, - Why do you imagine golden birds? – Do you not see how the blackbird – Walks around the feet – Of the women about you?” (774). This is quite probably the most straightforward of all of the passages. The men of Haddam, businessmen, dream of golden birds, or riches. However, the greatest treasure that they could possibly have is potential, in the form of children, whom run and play about the feet of their wives and other women in their life.
Stanza VIII reads: “I know noble accents – And lucid, inescapable rhythms; - But I know, too, - That the blackbird is involved – In what I know,” (774). Stevens often travelled on business to Florida, where he would find the mystically exotic sounds of Spanish music and accents. However, as strange and foreign as those things probably were to him, people are always people, and business is always business. The blackbird is involved in what Stevens knows in that no matter where he goes, it is always with a purpose, and that purpose is his knowledge. He is shadowed by his knowledge of business dealings, and that shadow is inescapable, much like the strumming of a flamenco guitar days after it is heard.
Stanza IX follows: “When the blackbird flew out of sight, - It marked the edge – Of one of many circles,” (774). The imagery of the blackbird leaving the sight of the viewer marks the impermanence of people, they eventually mark the edges of the “circles” in which one can see around them, and the “circle” of people that are connected to them. This impermanence may also belie thoughts about life and death, as that cycle has also often been described as a circle. Another thing that may belie those thoughts are the stark use of imagery, not always seen in the rest of the stanzas.
Stanza X reads: “At the sight of blackbirds – Flying in a green light, - Even the bawds of euphony – Would cry out sharply,” (775). According to the Shmoop Poetry Guide, “The ‘bawds of euphony’ represent people who like easy, relaxing pleasures. They don’t take the time to appreciate complicated experiences,” (11). F. Scott Fitzgerald had his own take on green light, in his novel The Great Gatsby, he writes, “Gatsby believed in the green light, the orgastic future that year by year recedes before us. It eluded us then, but that’s no matter — to-morrow we will run faster, stretch out our arms farther. . . . And one fine morning--,” (Ch. 9). It is not terribly hard to imagine that Stevens, as Fitzgerald did, could imagine hope as a green light, given that in the business world, a “green light” meant that a project had been approved. Even the most lackadaisical businessmen continue to be overjoyed when their pet projects get the “green light.”
Stanza XI follows: “He rode over Connecticut – In a glass coach. – Once, a fear pierced him, - In that he mistook – the shadow of his equipage – for blackbirds,” (775). In this stanza, a man rides around in a glass carriage. To ride in a carriage, especially one of glass, one must be of obvious and considerable wealth. Furthermore, one must have employees, horses, and ostensibly other assets, at one’s disposal. For such a man to mistake the shadow of his carriage and horses for blackbirds, he must be slightly daft, and many employers are seemingly detached from the day-to-day goings on of reality, buried instead in wealth and unnecessary opulence. The austerity of the poem, and Stevens’ long career in business, substantiates Stevens’ dislike of waste and wanton lavishness. For this, Stevens is probably mocking the aloofness of high society.
Stanza XII is the shortest of the poem, reading: “The river is moving, - The blackbird must be flying,” (775). In New England, like much of the northern US, blackbirds are at least partially migratory. If the, ostensibly once frozen, river is moving, then it is probably time for the blackbird to be coming back home. Furthermore, Stevens is always coming and going from the north to the south. Perhaps he is the blackbird, and is to be leaving or coming home during a spring thaw. Perhaps the blackbird is tourism, and hence business, which also increases when the winter is over. Further complicating things is that this stanza is written in the present tense, as opposed to the past tense. This, like stanza IX, probably refers to a cycle, which makes sense, at least seasonally.
The final stanza of the poem, XIII, reads: “It was evening all afternoon, - It was snowing, - And it was going to snow. – The blackbird sat – In the cedar-limbs,” (775). This final stanza is one of despair. The line, “It was evening all afternoon,” oozes with the feeling of being downtrodden, as if no matter what time it was, the gloom of the fading sun in the sky would never go away. The snow, and the premise that it was going to snow, further substantiates the thought of gloom and the cold feeling of unending depression. The blackbird sitting in the cedar-limbs is probably a reference to the first and second stanzas, where the blackbird is active, as opposed to passive. If we again reference the thought that the tree is the mind, and the blackbird is Stevens, then he is feeling alone in the harsh wintry seasons of New England. Some days, no matter where your blackbird sits, it simply feels as if the snow will never stop falling.
All in all, this surreal look into the mind of Wallace Stevens is intriguing, engaging, and a little bit bizarre. Like Picasso and Dali, Stevens is a master of obfuscating his true intent, using stark imagery and powerful representation instead of obvious and straightforward symbols. Thirteen Ways of Looking at a Blackbird is, quite frankly, one of the most enjoyable pieces of surreal wordplay to ever come out of the mind of what could possibly be either a brilliant thinker or a madman. Either way, Stevens probably wouldn’t want anyone to know the truth.
That doesn't look like 6 pages when you take out the double spacing and put it in the standard forum font.
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