Blog #8

Part 1:
Seasmus Heaney uses an extended metaphor in the poem "Digging" to illustrate the barrier between a son and father.  The poem opens and closes with very similar words, though through the depth of the poem they equate to very different things.  "Between my finger and my thumb, The squat pen rests; snug as a gun."  (1-2)  Although the son's father and grandfather were manual labourers, the son has chosen to stray from their line of work and become a writer.  The expression of the pen being a gun might suggest the disappointment he faces from other family members by not following the families heritage and becoming a farmer/ manual worker himself.  The son, however, appears to think of himself as superior to his father because of his new career choice; "My father, digging. I look down. (5)  The act of digging in the poem could represent the metaphor of new beginnings.  Although the son and father have different opinions about life choices, the digging could illustrate trying to find common ground.  The son reminisces about being a child and bringing milk to his grandfather as he worked hard to provide for his family.  The line "corked sloppily with paper," (20) alludes and ties in the fact that he will not end up a manual labourer, but a writer, making his money off of pens and paper.  The son has bad memories of the "smell of potato mould, (25) which leads to the conclusion that you expect after reading his earlier lines, "I've no spade to follow men like them." (28) The last lines of the poem, as stated earlier, are almost the same as the opening lines, with one exception, the pen still rests, but now, "[he'll] dig with it." (31)

Part 2: 
If anyone is interested, this is Sylvia Plath reading 'Daddy' - http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6hHjctqSBwM

Sylvia Plath's life was short and complicated.  Her death was self-inflicted and tragic at the age of 30.  She was the single mother of two children, after her marriage dissolved due to infidelity after seven years.  The complicated relationship with her father, as well as her earlier attempts at suicide are documented in her poem "Daddy."  
Jeanette Winterson wrote, "There is no autobiography; there is only art and lies."  After reading the quote from Plath that I have included below, I believe that Sylvia would have agreed with Winterson.  Her poems were weaved with truths about her life, but were manipulated in order for her to think of them as relevant.  

"I think my poems immediately come out of the sensuous and emotional experiences I have, but I must say I cannot sympathise with these cries from the heart that are informed by nothing except a needle or a knife, or whatever it is. I believe that one should be able to control and manipulate experiences, even the most terrific, like madness, being tortured, this sort of experience, and one should be able to manipulate these experiences with an informed and an intelligent mind I think that personal experience is very important, but certainly it shouldn't be a kind of shut-box and mirror looking, narcissistic experience. I believe it should be relevant." 
http://www.sylviaplath.de/plath/orrinterview.html