Book 142: Murder in the Cathedral by T.S. Eliot.

"The last act is the greatest treason, 

To do the right deed for the wrong reason."

I really enjoy a lot of Eliot's poetry, and was blown away by "The Waste Land" when I read it a year or two ago. I have been meaning to read Murder in the Cathedral since I received it from my Blogger Secret Santa in December, and I finally got the opportunity a week or so ago.

I'm not sure what I was expecting. I knew that Murder in the Cathedral was a play, but I didn't know what it was about. It actually took me two reads to get a general idea of what the play was even talking about. 

Basically, the play is focused on Archbishop Thomas Becket, and focuses on his decisions and actions right before he is murdered and becomes a martyr. There is obviously a lot more history to it than that, which I am not 100% confident in discussing (it would make me sound like an idiot, trying to piece it all together).


In the first part of the play, Becket is determining which stance to take-to stay true to his own beliefs even if he knows he may pay for it, or to do what others want him to and sacrifice his own good faith in himself. The first half is his mutterings, as well as the temptations by his tempters-those who wish for him to make the decision other than what he is comfortable with. 


The second part is of his death. Four knights come to murder him. They all give big long speeches on why, and the event takes place off the page.


In the midst of these two chunks the chorus speaks...and tells the audience to "stay awake" among other things. 


The whole thing was a little confusing, the language heavy, and I was left completely unsure of what was going on. Thus, the second read. It started to make a little more sense, and I pulled out some other pieces to put together what I've just shared with you. 


I was really intrigued by the lines I shared above-the whole idea of standing up for what is right when you know that bad things will happen to you if you do. I think we have all thought of making that kind of stance at some point in our lives-sticking up for what is right in light of being the only one on that side. Or, of only doing the right thing, but to make some kind of gain in the process. I always wonder about the choices I would make if I were to be in that position. I hope I would make the right and honest choice, but you never know what will happen in times of stress, you know?


Anyway, this is another of those plays that I think I would understand more seeing it performed. Perhaps sometime in the future I'll have that opportunity. 

“Unreal friendship may turn to real
But real friendship, once ended, cannot be mended”

Book 61: Book Stats, The Waste Land, and Finished.

Before you read any further, I should point out that this post was originally written when I finished the book during the read-a-thon (yes, a long long time ago). It has been sitting in draft form waiting to be posted. Here it finally is. :) And I should point out that because this "book" is actually a poem, everything about this is in one post. When does that ever happen? ;)

Title: "The Waste Land"

Author: T.S. Eliot (1888-1965)

First Published: 1922

My Edition: Harcourt (Seen at left)

Pages: The full book is 88 pages, however, the poem is about 25 pages in length.

Other Poems Include: "The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock" (1915), "Gerontin" (1920), "The Hollow Men" (1922), "Ash Wednesday" (1930), "Four Quartets" (1945)

Plays Include: The Rock (1934), Murder in the Cathedral (1935), The Family Reunion (1939), and The Cocktail Party (1949)

I am a huge poetry fan. And while I don't read it as much as I probably should, I do read more than the average Joe. There is something very relaxing and comforting about a poem.

This is the one solitary poem that made my list. I took off quite a few others, including Eliot's other masterpiece "The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock" in an attempt to rein in my list, but this one had to stay, only because I had never read it. Seems silly, doesn't it? All the other poems were removed, but this little title stayed through a bunch of cuts and edits to be in the final 250.

And while I know it is not a "book" it stills counts as one title off my list.

At only 25 pages, and a poem, this was a quick and easy read for the purposes of the read-a-thon. I will have to remember to read some poetry in the next read-a-thons if I ever get the chance.

The poem is structured into five sections: The Burial of the Dead, A Game of Chess, The Fire Sermon, Death by Water, and What the Thunder Said. Each section has its tone, voice, and mood. The narrator switches and gives the poem a very melancholy feel.

To be honest, this is a hard poem to describe, especially that I read it in one sitting and haven't had a great deal of time to digest all of the little nuances that come into play with poetry. But, speaking as someone who has read it for the first time I will say this: it captures a lot of the desolation and pain that was felt after The Great War (WWI). Some of the scenes Eliot described seemed to be of empty battlefields and rebuilding.

As I have not lived through a great war, or had personal destruction come down around me, I cannot really relate to the struggle of that kind of pain-of seeing the world crumbling and life disappear. But Eliot captured it for me in his words, so I could feel a glimpse.

I loved his language. Everything was vivid and alive in the way that only poetry can be. Here is the beginning to show what I mean:

"APRIL is the cruellest month, breeding
Lilacs out of the dead land, mixing
Memory and desire, stirring
Dull roots with spring rain.
Winter kept us warm, covering
Earth in forgetful snow, feeding
A little life with dried tubers.
Summer surprised us, coming over the Starnbergersee
With a shower of rain; we stopped in the colonnade,
And went on in sunlight, into the Hofgarten,
And drank coffee, and talked for an hour.
Bin gar keine Russin, stamm' aus Litauen, echt deutsch.
And when we were children, staying at the archduke's,
My cousin's, he took me out on a sled,
And I was frightened. He said, Marie,
Marie, hold on tight. And down we went.
In the mountains, there you feel free.
I read, much of the night, and go south in the winter," (29).

It is simply beautiful. My favorite of the five sections was the last, the one called What the Thunder Said.

"AFTER the torchlight red on sweaty faces
After the frosty silence in the gardens
After the agony in stony places
The shouting and the crying
Prison and place and reverberation
Of thunder of spring over distant mountains
He who was living is now dead
We who were living are now dying
With a little patience," (42).

I really believe this captures the mood of the entire poem. Those last three lines I choose were just so powerful as I read them.

I wish I knew more about Eliot so I could understand the deeper meanings of this poem. But he is not a poet I am familiar with. I think to truly understand poetry, you just read and reread it, immerse yourself in the knowledge of the poet, and just let it sink in. I haven't the opportunity to do that now, but I know I will be returning to Eliot eventually, to read more and learn more about the man who wrote such a chilling poem.