Reviews for Soundings

The average rating for Soundings based on 2 reviews is 5 stars.

Review # 1 was written on 2019-10-15 00:00:00 Damarcus King Two contrary states of the human soul The moon like a flower, In Heavens high bower; With silent delight, Sits and smiles on the night. (Night) At times the weight of the reputation of an artist is that intimidating I can barely overcome trepidation to venture into approaching his or her work. William Blake is such an artist. So when this lovely little book arrived in the letter box as a birthday present, it felt like a sweet little heartening push, giving me the courage to dive into the refreshing water of the unknown, holding the promise of a thrilling encounter with the imagination of supreme mind. Unsure what to expect and what those two parts – innocence and experience – would stand for, making Blake’s acquaintance was a highly rewarding reading experience I cannot really compare to any other I had before. From innocence, which seems mostly the one of childhood, symbolised by scenes on infants, children, a shepherd, mothers in a pastoral setting, the transition to experience is evocated by a darkening mood and tone, in which consciousness rises of the adult world in which danger, menace , anxiety undeniably will encumber happiness and joy and where comfort is hard to find – for adults nor for children. The powerful imagery is replete with fauna and flora, happiness and joy take the shape of a sparrow, a lamb, a robin, a grasshopper, a rose, spring, green fields, sweet sleep. Revolving to experience, a child is hungry, sweet flowers in the Garden of Love have changed into graves and tombstones, youthfulness dissolves, the narrative voice bemoans the multitudinous forms of human woe and suffering in London (‘The mind-forg’d manacles I hear’). A rose is tainted at the core. A mighty tiger roars, reminding of the mysterium tremendum et fascinans characterizing the religious experience of transcendence. At the first read I was particularly enthralled by the compelling, sublime musicality of the rhymes and the dynamics of the verses (it is thought that Blake set several of the verses to his own tunes, no scores have survived however). These are poems one can imagine a joy to learn and know by heart. In a second read, now having read the illuminating introduction which gives insight into the patterns of ‘contrary’ or answering poems in both parts of the book and the contrasts existing within the poems themselves, pointing at the the puzzling ambiguities, the contrary energies flowing through the poems, the angle of the brilliant mirroring interconnectivity of the composition was a delightful one, and I can easily imagine a third read will unveil other aspects. The beauteous edition I read draws on the version sold by his wife Catherine Boucher to the Bishop of Limerick in 1830 which ended up into the hands of E.M. Forster, offering it to King’s College, Cambridge – on the left page a literal transcription of each poem is printed, on the right page a reproduction of the original illustrated plate (the designs are not just for embellishment of the poems but intrinsically part of Blake’s poetic imagination). Absorbing the combination of both the words and the quaint images of Blake’s ‘illuminated printing’ at the same time proved ineffectual for me at the first read, so this gem volunteered as a new nightstand companion. At the moment it might be mostly obscure to me, but perhaps the more complex and mysterious meanings of the verses will further show upon rereading and exploring Blake more in depth. Youth of delight! come hither And see the opening morn, Image of Truth new-born. Doubt is fled, and clouds of reason, Dark disputes and artful teazing. Folly is an endless maze; Tangled roots perplex her ways; How many have fallen there! They stumble all night over bones of the dead; And feel—they know not what but care; And wish to lead others, when they should be led. (The Voice of the Ancient Bard)

Review # 2 was written on 2015-01-19 00:00:00 Mortimer Mortimer “Am not I A fly like thee? Or art not thou A man like me?” Out of all the poetry I have read, these four lines are amongst my favourite. They have stuck with me over several years and seem to resonate within me. I’ve even considered having them tattooed onto my arm. Why these lines? You may ask. It’s simple really: they say so much. Different readings can be made here, but the one I see most strongly is man talking to nature. Man questions it; he asks if he is the same as nature and if nature is the same as him. Is not the fly equal to him? Is not the fly’s life just as valuable as his own? All life is precious, and what I read here is a man coming to the realisation that this is so. Nature is valuable, and no matter how high man may place himself all life remains the same; it is the same force: the same energy. It could also be a bourgeoisie facing a member of the lower class and realising the same thing, but I prefer to stick with the human to animal relationship. Nature is huge, the ecosystem is huge. And, again, no matter how high man may place himself he is still just another cog on an ever turning mechanism. In the modern world he has damaged the system, the environment, but he is still part of a greater whole. And his part is no more important than that of the rest of the cogs. What I read in Blake’s words is an ideal, a projection of a semi-paradise; one man can perhaps reach if when he has gained experience he remembers where he came from: his innocence. Blake’s poetry is marvellously deceptive; it appears so simple, but that’s the beauty of it. Hidden behind the seemingly innocent childlike songs is a sense of irony, sarcasm and genius. The speakers of the poems describe the world as they see it; it is a mere reflection of their own limited perceptions; they see the world through a childlike and predetermined state. In essence, they see what they are meant to see, and nothing beyond that. Well, not until they gain experience and look back on their own folly. Even at this stage, Blake portrays the duality of the human soul; the two states coexist and inform each other. From this collection of poetry I’m left with the impression that these two stages are necessary for human development, but not exclusively so; it’s like Blake is suggesting that one should be able to see the world as an aspect of both. Throughout the poetry Blake also questions the meaning of standard religion and proposes his own ideas of a more natural approach to divinity. He believed that the gods existed within the bosom of man, and not in an exogenous limited interpretation. In this, he is a true Romantic poet. The more poetry I read in this age, the more I come to appreciate this idea. Blake’s poetry stands out amongst the crowd though. He used a completely unique style to get his the two states of the human soul across to the reader. But, again, he reflects the movement; his poems have a heavy emphasis on the freedom of self-expression and can only really be appreciated in conjunction with the plates he engraved them on. He was a true artist: "Tyger Tyger, burning bright, In the forests of the night; What immortal hand or eye, Could frame thy fearful symmetry?" Indeed, for me, the comparison between the “Lamb” and the “Tyger” cannot be appreciated without looking at the images. The two poems are not simply about different animal types. They are about good and evil; they are a comparison of the badness and benevolence of humankind. The lamb represents the most profound sense of inexperience; it is innocence and pure: it is docile and vulnerable in its infancy. In this it is comparable to the Christian saviour: it is the best degree of humanity. The Tyger, on the other hand, has a corrupt heart. He represents the negative aspects of humankind, and can be interpreted as part of industrialisation, commerce and power. Through this comparison the narrator of the poems questions how a creator could forge two opposing states. What is the purpose of such a thing? When the experience section has been read, it is vital to go back and look at innocence. It changes the nature of the poems, as the implicit becomes explicit. The layers of meaning are multiple and complex. I could spend a day pondering over some of them, but for me the most memorable one is “the fly” for the reasons I discussed: it will always stay with me.