Tropes in Literary Analysis

My composition teacher wanted me to
move beyond my ideas
my ideas were good,
he assured me, but perhaps now
now that my ideas were solid,
were clear and at least somewhat
engaging, now I could move on

to tropes. Perhaps I wanted to embrace more craft
in my writing? Perhaps I could
take a thorough look at the
“on the one hand” and the “on the other hand,” the obvious
parallel constructions
the antithetical contrasts
the appositive modifiers, perhaps I could
spice these up, to use a cliched trope, he winked at me,

perhaps I wanted to mix in something beyond
these schemes, these compositional tools, add some new
unconventional ingredient to create a wild
unexpected new souffle of figurative language.

I nodded. Perhaps too much
or too fast. He was concerned
I couldn’t picture it. I was concerned
I couldn’t picture it, though I was more concerned
I couldn’t even say what it was I was trying to picture.

“A trope, a figure of speech like a metaphor,
it pulls your writing together, adds a sense of
voice,” he said, reassuringly.

My voice isn’t my voice? What is a voice in one dimension,
in ink and paper? He continued, “You can’t be cliched
but also don’t stretch your trope, set it up wisely, elegantly
allow it to bathe your whole compositional arc in the
imaginative light shed by an original, unexpected
comparison. But don’t use an extended metaphor, obviously,”

he said, smiling again, “They get so tired.” So, I tried

to imagine a figure of speech that would somehow encompass my
paper, subtly. But, it was a hippopotamus as big as the entire
watering hole. It was an enormous poofy chicken
every egg disappearing under its
voluminous fluff. It was a glacier –
slow moving, yes, but monolithic and
intractable.

I stared at my essay in my kitchen later, but I was bereft
of hope just as the cupboard was bereft of
clean dishes and the refrigerator was bereft of all
the best foods for procrastinating. I could see Graham Swift’s
fens, the watery marshland of his novel continuing for miles
and in my paper there it lived,

flat in the worst way, flat like the water and sky
were indistinguishable, like your life was indistinguishable
in this featureless landscape. Sure there was beauty
but you had to get up real close, had to learn to enjoy the
surprise of a tiny beetle, a chance migrating bird,
had to look at the small things because there was nothing
big, nothing remarkable to fix your eyes on in this
rolling land of muted sunlight, cloud, water and only the idea
of solid land.

The people of my youth

populate my imagination
disproportionately
and the reason
is in the chemistry
the electricity
of my brain, the first connections

vital, living well beyond usefulness
the fine details wired in
dendrites and dendrites
ramifying through the cloud of pulses—
the boys, the girls, their loves, my loves
the embarrassment, the exhilaration
of first times

the fires from
long ago burn low and steady
and against this
memories from five years
ten years ago flame and fade quickly
details, dates wrong
while the first comes back with little stoking—
the smell of orange blossoms in the spring
and the catch of a song in my chest at seventeen—

so that life is skewed
in this early direction
so that youth is inescapable
looped into memory
woven into the countless connections
the electrolyte exchanges of consciousness
always calling to me but unanswerable
a message I cannot entirely decode but
I cannot forget.

I try hard to forget this body

to see it
only as a shifting mass
of cells, to feel
the impermanence of existence, to truly
believe this.
The opposite of

this fierce grip is not death
but release. How can I

trust this? Pinned here
by name, by body, by sex?
Am I served, clinging to my flesh
and the idea of my flesh?
What does the self do

but offer a distraction
from the heavy certainty of death
for one short moment?
The next moment

always comes and with it,
death is back, smiling its crooked smile,
pushing open a door
that is never closed.

Trade Offs

I.
A bird’s keeled chest allows for flight
layers and layers of muscle overlaid

flexing in like solid heart
its thick bloody meat

and each wing extends from this mass
this dense body of flesh
out into the finest

feathers, the bones
hollowed and just above the beating heart
the keeled body heaves and pulls its mass easily

but there is a cost, of course, it is not truly easy
what must you trade to rise into the air
to run and beat your wings or to set off
from a standstill?
what do you give up for that life? what terrestrial pleasures
are sacrificed to the air?

a hand tangled in a lover’s curls?
one cheek against sternum, almost directly on bone
feeling the pulse of life below?

II.
I remember the feel of night
against my lips, my neck
the freedom of riding through the dark

no one to belong to, no one waiting for me
always half in love or hoping to be

instead of the bittersweet loneliness of youth
now I feel the soft arms
of a baby flung over me,

nestled in
close but captured.

I think of death every day

whether this is helpful
or not
depends on who you talk to

perhaps it helps me appreciate life
perhaps it presses me to face my fear
perhaps it humbles and quiets my ego
or, perhaps I simply

walk around terrified, catching
glimpses of that smothering annihilation
around corners

lining the yellow face of sunlit objects,
a dark, disturbing gilding.

Sleeplessness

I sat with you in fitful bursts
of sleep
and waking
and nursing
amid something beyond despair
or joy or anything except
the yellowed light that one thin
bulb casts into a darkness
that could be the sea or space
an endless stretch of something
unknown and vast that
I could only pray
would not be bleak.

A Generation of Wussies, Part One: Helicopter Parenting or Ailing Society?

Lately, I have been hearing so much about those emotionally myopic, overprotective helicopter parents and the coddled, whiny youngsters they’ve raised. Frequently these oft-maligned parents are simply evoked to whatever end without much description of what exactly we mean by “helicopter parenting” or who is doing it. I’ve always had a knee-jerk reaction to anything that smacks of some old crotchety codger saying, “back in my day…” and extolling the virtues of toughness, struggle and hard work as if they are mutually exclusive from valuing inclusivity, sensitivity and care. I actually think that hard work and struggle, even failure, are really vital to personal development, but the way it’s framed, there’s always some edge in that disturbs me. Perhaps it’s because I remember people my grandparent’s age making derisive comments about how mamby-pamby parenting had gotten, how soft and ineffectual my parents, and people of their generation were. This always seemed to come up around corporal punishment and “better discipline” for “talking back” to your parents or minor school infractions. Whatever wonderfully effective era of disciplining and parenting they were thinking about sounded pretty horrible to me.

But it’s ultimately the hazy lack of definition around all of this that really gets me. Who are these helicopter parents? What exactly are they doing wrong? Some characterizations of these parents don’t seem so bad to me – parents who value strong attachment and bonding in the first few years of life, who are very responsive to their children’s needs, who are sensitive and aware of their children’s personality and quirks. They’re essentially very close to their children, very in tune with and present in their kids’ lives. Other characterizations of these folks seem awful – parents who control, who are terrified of every danger and don’t allow their children to take appropriate risks and make mistakes. Obviously the term is thrown around without consistency. It’s then incumbent upon the user of the terms, I would think, to carefully define what this term means and who they’re talking about.

Julie Lythcott-Haims sets out to define this in her recent writing about being the dean of freshmen at Stanford. I heard this interview with her about the book this week. She found that “overparenting” has rendered young folks wildly unable to function on their own – make their own decisions, problem solve, etc. Lythcott-Haims is rightly disturbed by parents who have the resources to over schedule and control their children’s lives – ultimately for the purpose of getting them into prestigious schools and ambitious, widely lauded career paths, despite the child’s preferences. All this control and parental input renders these children dependent and underdeveloped as individuals. The goal of parenting, she says, is to raise a child who can function successfully when independent. So, I have an idea of what she means by helicopter parent, but who is she talking about? In the interview it was only after the interviewer asked for clarification that she acknowledged this is a pretty small subset of American parents. Generally white and upper middle class. As I listened to this interview and, over the last few years, as I’ve read about the overprotected child, I find myself really upset because this is not the biggest set of problems facing our kids.

The majority of youth in our society face neglect more than over protection. I live in the state 50th in education funding. We don’t even have school librarians anymore. We have cut most of our arts, physical education and music programs in public schools. We don’t have quality, subsidized preschool for most kids. The achievement gap between white and non-white kids is a yawing chasm that is truly depressing. This generation has grown up during the worst economic downturn since the Great Depression. Millions of their families have lost homes, jobs, and prospects. As these young folks have been graduating from high school and college over the last 10 years, they have faced a seemingly impossible job market and record amounts of student debt, if they went to any college. It’s hard for me to continually read that one of the big crises in education and our society is this slender fraction of students who have been damaged by privilege.

Don’t get me wrong, Lythcott-Haims and others who set out to tell parents to allow their kids to develop into independent and resilient people by giving their children space to find out who they are, to try things for themselves and to move through difficulty on their own have great points. It’s just that when we don’t think about the broader picture – the real threats to the well being and functioning of our children, I think we miss some important points. For instance, has the bleak economic landscape and gutting of social programs, like education, created a climate of fear? Do some of these “helicopter parents” – especially those not extraordinarily wealthy – have a justified fear for the prospects of their children? How does deep insecurity around pregnancy, children rearing and education in our society affect parenting styles and choices? As a society, we broadcast our lack of interest in children’s welfare by being one of the few countries that has no paid parental leave, very sparse quality and affordable preschool options and woefully underfunded public education. Obviously, it’d be great if every parent could learn to be a present, mindful parents who steps back and allows their child to try things on their own, to take risks and learn from mistakes. I just wonder if the constant hand-wringing about these apparently neurotic and pathetic “helicopter parents” have distracted us from larger societal insecurities and ills?

How to Change the World: Cecil the Lion, Human Suffering, and the Fundamental Attribution Error

Towards the end of my college years, I was working at a bookstore. One afternoon, I was talking to one of my coworkers about an upcoming fundraiser for a local organization that worked with victims of domestic abuse. I made a remark about how there were over twice as many animal shelters as domestic abuse shelters in this country. She said, “Good.” I was surprised. I didn’t expect that response and really know what to make of it at first. Did she feel that animals were more deserving of support and humane treatment than abused humans? Or, did she think there were more animals than domestic abuse victims in need?

After some questions and conversation, it became clear that while she was sympathetic to victims of domestic abuse to a point, she was more inclined to give unalloyed sympathy and compassion to animals because they were more clearly helpless, more clearly not responsible for their situations. I suppose it is less complicated to see an animal in need and feel for it. The issue of human volition is taken out of the equation. You don’t have to try and understand why someone wouldn’t “just leave” an abusive situation when you think of mistreated animals. With animals, you consider the external facts, the situational factors and other individuals acting on that animal. By contrast, we might view domestic abuse victims as somehow partially responsible because they are “choosing” to stay in that situation.

Judging someone who has a hard time leaving their abuser is, I believe, a way we shame victims of domestic abuse, and I don’t find it particularly compelling. Still, I recognize the logic of the argument, even if I don’t buy it. It’s harder to ignore human agency when considering people in terrible situations. Part of this is because, of course, it’s hard to have a family member in an abusive relationship and to witness them tolerate mistreatment and return to their abuser. I get that this can be hard to watch and to understand. Maybe my coworker had had that experience. However, on a societal level, it’s not hard to understand why many people do go back to abusive situations. As a society we have tolerated and even championed as law the mistreatment and dehumanizing of women. Think about the fact that until 1993 some states still did not legally allow for rape to exist in marriage, meaning when you said “I do,” you were also saying, “Anytime you want to force me to have sex you can with no legal repercussions. Til death do us part.” 1993, people. That’s very recent.

Out indifference to domestic abuse victims plays out in a variety of ways including lack of police response to domestic abuse calls and lack of any real punishment for abusers. The majority of physical or sexual assaults of women, including assault that ends in murder, is perpetrated by people the women know, usually a partner or ex-partner. We don’t have a great history of taking these threats seriously or punishing this bad behavior. Add to this some women are in financially precarious situations that make it hard to leave. And, probably the biggest issue of all, individuals who are victims of abuse are psychologically harmed by the abuse as well as physically. As an abuse victim, someone you love and trust, who you want to continue to love and trust, is devaluing your life by physically assaulting you. This kind of trauma has ramifications for abilities to navigate the world, to feel safe, to evaluate options. You are in a psychologically compromised situation, told by society that your abuser isn’t really doing much wrong, certainly not enough to warrant real police intervention. So, while I can acknowledge that there is volition of the abused to consider, to me, it seems pretty clear there’s some serious external and situational factors to consider.

When I brought these things up with my colleague, she agreed generally but still admitted that it was easier for her to relate to animal victims of human callousness, carelessness and violence. My coworker is an educated, bright, middle aged, politically progressive woman who identifies as a feminist. The fact that even she felt her compassion strained when thinking of the difficult, complex situations abuse victims often find themselves in…well, that didn’t give me a lot of hope for other folks. Or maybe it’s just that those little kittens on the holiday PSAs from human shelters are just too cute. It’s hard to compete with sweet, cute needy animals.

I found myself thinking about this conversation during the uproar after the hunter Walter Palmer shot and killed Cecil the lion in Zimbabwe last week. Amid the outcry about the death of the lion, various journalists have discussed the lack of public outcry about human rights violations in that same country over the years. How can we care so much more about wildlife than humans? they’ve asked. I remembered my coworker’s comments on victims of domestic abuse and again came face to face with the fact that it’s a lot easier to see animals as victims who deserve our attention, compassion and intervention than it is to see our fellow humans that way. Think about this: enough consumer pressure was put on airlines in a few short days that several major carriers will no longer carry big game “trophies.” That’s some quick work, though probably a PR no-brainer with not a lot of economic downside for airlines. I mean, how much profit are they forfeiting by not transporting big game trophies?

Unlike this, the public grows quickly weary of following and understanding stories of violence and injustice experienced by humans, like those folks living under Robert Mugabe in Zimbabwe and, before him, under colonial rule. Or, consider this, one of the handful of top results in a Google search for “Cecil the Lion” this week was a page titled, “If You Got Mad Over Cecil the Lion, Here Are 5 Ways You Can Bring About Change.” People want to take this outrage and turn into action. Do a Google search for a current human tragedy, say the war in Syria, and you get copious pages of stories about Syria. Midway down the third page of results, the World Food Program has a page on Syria, including how to help. There are organizations you can give to – time, money, etc. – to help Syrians, in and out of Syria, but it’s clearly not foremost on our minds even when we are actually thinking about Syria.

To be fair, it’s very hard to take in the complexity of the situation in Syria and imagine how we can affect positive change there. ISIS and Bashar al-Assad are daunting problems. But what about Syrians leaving Syria, Syrians fleeing violence, persecution, starvation, rape, abduction, death. How do we view them? Compassionately? How do we treat them? Supportively? Kindly? Thousands of Syrian refugees being rejected right now from the United Kingdom can answer that with a resounding, “No.” I can understand that taking in thousands of refugees is also a bit daunting, probably not daunting on the scale of mounting a ground war against ISIS, but logistically and financially stressful for a country. However between 2011 and 2014, (according to this article in The Guardian) the U.K. accepted fewer than 4,300 asylum applicants. Germany and Sweden, during that time granted asylum to over 38,000 and 42,000 respectively, with thousands of applicants still being processed. Hey, word of advice, asylum seekers, head to Germany and Sweden before trying to hump it through the chunnel.

More disturbing than this to me, is the way that policy makers and the public try to cast these folks as something other than refugees deserving of help. I don’t get the hysteria around immigration in general, but I especially find it appalling when the migrants are fleeing such horrific situations. One British truck driver said on in interview on public radio this week that he didn’t understand why all these migrants didn’t go through the “proper channels” if they really were deserving of asylum and help. He said it’s because they’re not really deserving. They are, according to him, “No-good, thieving scum.”

Before we Americans judge our British cousins too harshly, I’d like to remind people of the terrible mistreatment by our country of central American refugees fleeing the violent fallout of the drug war over the last several years. If you pressed people who see these migrants running in desperation as lazy and trying to “cheat” somehow, if you asked them what they would do if their family had been murdered, people in their community were being extorted and threatened by gangs and the police forces around them are either corrupt or incapable of securing their homes and lives, what would they say? What would any of us do in that situation? Obey legal regulations governing migration or obey higher laws – laws of love and survival, even moral imperatives that drive all of us to seek a better life, a safer life for ourselves and the people we love. Outside of ISIS recruits, who on earth can’t understand the need to leave Syria right now?

Considering this, I’ve decided that some version of what psychologists call the Fundamental Attribution Error is going on here, impeding our ability to be compassionate. Basically, when we observe and evaluate the behavior of others, we attribute much greater emphasis to personal choices and personality characteristics than to situational factors. Those migrants are lazy, thieving folks who are going to put unnecessary burdens on our economic systems! In contrast to this, when we evaluate our own actions, we are much more likely to view the external situation as having greater power over us. It’s not my fault there’s a war being waged here – I’m fleeing while I’m still alive! This is a widespread fallacy of logic and thinking. Of course it’s even championed by some folks in power and some news sources. View your own situations with lenience; judge everyone else, particularly those different from you. I get that egging on this way of thinking can be beneficial for people in power – it’s that whole divide and conquer thing. Get folks all riled up about illegal immigrants stealing jobs so that they won’t mind that we’ve failed to penalize large corporations that melted down our financial system through that whole, fun subprime mortgage tango a few years back. Remember that? It was fun. What I don’t understand is, on a personal level, why people are swayed by it. Why do we make the fundamental attribution error?

Of course one obvious reason: we love to scape goat. It’s a lot easier to blame illegal immigrants for our economic hardships rather than corporate policies, big moneyed power in Washington, criminal Wallstreet speculation as well as the lack of any kind of oversight and control over any of this. There’s something primal under this, I think. Humans look at other humans and want to believe they have more power over their situations than they do. It’s terrifying to confront how little power we have over our own lives. When you have to face the fact of large-scale, institutionalized discrimination, corruption and greed…ugh, it makes you feel very powerless indeed. We want to believe that individuals have a lot of volition and a lot of power to make choices in their lives so that we don’t have to confront that we often don’t have a lot of control or power. Incidentally, I think this is why gun advocates think we need more guns after a big mass shooting. They don’t want to face that there can be this terrifying, random violence enacted on you that you may not have any ability to do anything about. Pretending that if you were there, with a gun, you could have done something somehow makes you feel better about your own precarious place in the universe, your own vulnerability to the fates.

So, I’d like to believe that there is something inherently valuable in living a life that doesn’t shrink from the dark complexities of other people’s tragedies. Of course, you can’t fix most of it, or even much of it, but I’d like to believe that if you foster compassion in yourself and even try to help others face their fears and be more compassionate, you can affect some positive change in this world.