This is the gist of a facebook conversation with one of the people whom I know doing the IB.
Adela (on Damon's wall): Wow. Neruda is messed up. On the upside, you don't need to do Frankenstein. Victor is a sissy little girl bitch. (I got that gem of an insult off Scrubs. I love that show.) If I were to be studying Neruda in english, I have a feeling I would have given my teacher a nervous breakdown.
(Just as a bit of a pointer, that was paraphrased.)
Damon (in the comments thingy): Ha! You see!!! He is a douche-wad with issues pertaining to women. We had to deal with 21 poems of his.
"It steadily gets worse and worse... first the dodgy sexual imagery, leading to his whispering girly man things..."
The bit in quotation marks was (surprise, surprise) a quote.
Neruda REALLY needed a girlfriend.
Showing posts with label Pablo Neruda. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Pablo Neruda. Show all posts
Wednesday, April 28, 2010
Pablo Neruda
A while ago, I did a post about Rime of the Ancient Mariner - one of Coleridge's opium epics.
Anyway, in a fit of boredom today, I decided to see what was so utterly perverse about Pablo Neruda.
Some people I know who do the IB have to study his works, and the general feedback I get is that among other things, he needed to get laid.
I read some of his stuff, and all I can say is holy *numerous expletives in numerous languages*. This man had issues.
Who writes an ode to a flea?
You know how I said I could imagine Coleridge lying there in his opium den wondering what could rhyme with noon before hitting on the word 'bassoon' with an almost eureka-like enthusaism?
I can picture Neruda sitting there in his little poetry hole or den or nook or wherever the hell he wrote his poetry looking at sketches of naked women and saying in a seedy south american accent as he stroked his goatee (I know I'm verging into the lands of the politically incorrect, but seriously.) and said 'Hmmm. Now how can I describe this in a manner that will make students all over the world cringe when they read it...A-ha! I know! White hills!!!' (Scribbles away furiously).
That guy had issues.
Anyway, in a fit of boredom today, I decided to see what was so utterly perverse about Pablo Neruda.
Some people I know who do the IB have to study his works, and the general feedback I get is that among other things, he needed to get laid.
I read some of his stuff, and all I can say is holy *numerous expletives in numerous languages*. This man had issues.
Who writes an ode to a flea?
You know how I said I could imagine Coleridge lying there in his opium den wondering what could rhyme with noon before hitting on the word 'bassoon' with an almost eureka-like enthusaism?
I can picture Neruda sitting there in his little poetry hole or den or nook or wherever the hell he wrote his poetry looking at sketches of naked women and saying in a seedy south american accent as he stroked his goatee (I know I'm verging into the lands of the politically incorrect, but seriously.) and said 'Hmmm. Now how can I describe this in a manner that will make students all over the world cringe when they read it...A-ha! I know! White hills!!!' (Scribbles away furiously).
That guy had issues.
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