The Waste Land

They say everyone has one poem that is set to the tune of their life. I think that would be Omar Khayyam’s Rubaiyat for me, but The Waste Land is a close second. I was listening to Dr. Langdon Hammer’s analysis of it, and his description of The Waste Land as a space where God is absent, and this poem being the result of that absence, of a kind of fragmentation and disconnection, where love is paired with killing, shed so much light to this poem for me. Even before hearing his lecture on it though with the knowledge of the audience being a discontented youth heading into the Jazz Age, this poem just has these lines that imprint themselves in your mind with strong images.



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