Elyse's Entry-for 9-14-09-Mon.

Charles Lamb -"A Chapter on Ears"

Call it the therapist in me, but I got more out of the Lamb bio than the actual essay, although I did like that too. I am always interested in people's life stories and experiences. A person's life is shaped by his or her circumstances for sure, but also their individual personalities they bring in from other lives at least that is what I believe. It was heartwrenching to read of Lamb's ordeal with his sister but it is his spirit of forgiveness surrounding this tragedy that is truly inspiring. Not only did Lamb have compassion for Mary's state of mind at the time, but he went on to collaborate with her artistically when he simply could have turned his back on her. His giving spirit comes across in his writing too. In "A Chapter on Ears", he lays in his own ignorance out for all to see. Maybe because of his own experience with the worst one could imagine, he is able to shed all pretenses and appear naked before us with his words. For the most part , I found a gentleness in Lamb, light humor, considering the darkness that his tragedy must have imprinted on his soul. He speaks throughout the essay of "the scene turning", quoting Burton , particularly in music , when the musician has "not content to have laid a soul prostate, goes on, in his power, to inflict more bliss than lies in her capacity to receive." It seems to me that only someone who has been to hell and back could write with such honesty and disregard for the accepted ideals of the day.


G.K. Chesterson-"A Piece of Chalk"

What I enjoyed most about reading Chesterson was his use of descriptive language. In describing the contrast of vibrant colors against brown paper vs. white, the "points of fire", "sparks of gold, and blood red", "like the first fierce stars that sprang out of divine darkness." Beautiful! I laughed out loud when he spoke of wanting to write of the contents of his pocket but it would be too long with the epic being out of style. I liked what he was saying about Nature being inescapable to us. Many griped that the ancient poets did not interest themselves with Nature, preferring to write about great men. Chesterson counters that these poets, "preferred writing about great men to writing about great hills; but they sat on the great hills to write it." After having my own experience of being immersed in Nature and feeling like everything I was searching for was right in my own backyard, I loved the idea if Chesterson lamenting of his lost white crayon, only to find Nature had boxes of white crayons in surplus. Again his language to illustrate this point was, to me so rich in description. "Imagine a man in the Sahara regretting that he had no sand for his hourglass." In the end, Chesterson has the a-ha moment of realizing that he has been "sitting on an immense warehouse of white chalk." It his mental journey that that led him to this discovery that makes for great writing.