Lake (Criticism)

Criticism

Pamela Steed Hill

Hill is the author of a poetry collection, has published widely in literary journals, and is an editor for a university publications department. In the following essay, she examines the poem's reference to Dionysus as an odd, yet poignant allusion in a work that offers no obvious reason for its inclusion.

On its own, "Lake" is an obscure poem in regard to defining its persona and the relationship between the speaker and subject or the subject and the mysterious "they." But when the poem is considered among the others in Departure, readers can make intelligent guesses about its source of inspiration — the poet is the speaker, the speaker is the subject, and the "they" is the speaker's ailing mother suffering from incurable dementia. Or are they?

In the end, the truth about specific identities makes little difference. What is noteworthy, however, is the intriguing one-time allusion to Dionysus, a famous Greek god, that seems to have nothing whatsoever to do with the subject, tone, theme, and style of the poem.

"Lake" is undoubtedly a work about the desperation, grief, and final resignation of someone dealing with the pending death of a loved one. Twenty-four of its twenty-six lines are dedicated to the description of the subject's futile attempt to escape pain — both emotional and physical — and the mournful acknowledgment that reaching out, touching, and kissing the one who is ill will not save him or her from a "slow, / degrading shuffle to the sea."

But then there are lines 2 and 3. Like the well-known "sore thumb," these two lines stand out with their strange and sudden departure from the seemingly straightforward running motif of the poem. What is the point of this quirky allusion? Why is it mentioned only once? To make sense of this imagery from mythology that appears early on in "Lake," readers need to understand who Dionysus is and what possible connection he may have to a poem about sorrow, death, and desperate longing.

Most commonly, Dionysus — and his Roman counterpart, Bacchus — is known as the god of wine, but that is only the beginning. A supreme being whose claim to fame is a popular drink must have some "baggage" to rule over as well. For Dionysus, it is all the associations, both good and bad, that come along with being drunk — from giddy happiness, relaxation, and sexual arousal to anger, depression, self-doubt, and violence. Dionysus is the god of all these.

What many abbreviated accounts of Dionysus's role in mythology fail to mention is that he is also noted as the archetype of dying and resurrecting in the Greek world. Even though there are a variety of scenarios detailing his birth and early life, one common thread that runs among them is that Dionysus "dies" several times or is transformed into a different being, such as a snake or other animal. Each time, however, he returns to life, a vital and powerful god.

Many scholarly studies in Greek mythology concentrate more on this "dying and renewing" aspect of Dionysus than on his noted drinking and reveling. And it is likely this same aspect that underlies Warren's inclusion of an allusion to the motley god in "Lake." Themes of illness and death are evident in the poem, but "the pilot light / [that] flickers in ancient statues of Dionysus" adds a subtle, yet important dimension to the subject's and/or speaker's demeanor regarding the loss of a loved one.

For the first half of "Lake," the "you" is portrayed in water, and there is a clear desire for what he or she would like the water to do: "rinse away the heaviness" that weighs on the subject's mind. But the speaker has already likened the subject to Dionysus, with the "green light" shining off "your hip hollows and stomach" like the pilot light in statues of the ancient god. This comparison implies that "you" is also going through a process of dying and resurrecting. While the subject is not the one who is ill, the grief that he or she experiences is a kind of death — a killing of the spirit, so to speak. But if the subject is like Dionysus, a rebirth or renewal will follow the demise.

Does this, then, suggest that the poem is not as bleak or pessimistic as a less-detailed reading would imply? Is there actually something positive about the speaker's or subject's approach to such a difficult time? Not likely. Logistics alone indicate otherwise, with the reference to Dionysus being extremely brief and the clear statement on "how soon and how lightly that touch / would be withdrawn" closing the door on any hope for recovery. And if this line closes the door, the poem's ending nails it shut.

After the subject emerges from the water, "Lake" takes a downward spiral to the bottom of hopelessness and resignation. The speaker's statements about what the subject accepts as reality are straightforward and unyielding: "you knew, too, how those you cannot heal would remain / un-healed," "you knew the mountains would continue their slow, / degrading shuffle to the sea." The subject does not merely believe — the subject knows.

The only thing left to ponder, then, is whether this doleful abandonment applies across the board for the subject — that is, regarding the sick loved one, as well as him- or herself and life in general — or if the Dionysus allusion suggests the possibility of renewal, at least for the "you." Since Warren is noted for (or accused of, in some cases) being a bit erudite and inaccessible in her poetry, it may stand to reason that this cryptic, short-lived reference to a Greek god is included simply as a brainteaser. Its brevity makes it easy to dismiss as mere poetic fluff, but it is unlikely that a highly academic, cultivated poet like Warren would throw something in as fluff. A brainteaser is another matter.

Anyone who knows a bit of biographical information about Warrren knows that she is well versed in the classics, that she has years of experience studying and living in Europe, and that her work does not shy away from grandiose allusions — from classical writers and mythology to French poets and Italian painters. Whether readers actually appreciate the effort is sometimes doubtful, but it is safe to assume that Warren's intent is sincere. In "Lake," Dionysus must serve a purpose. For those who read the poem seriously and carefully, he definitely causes readers to stop and think.

The contention here is that that is his purpose. Readers not at all familiar with Dionysus have quite a bit of research to do, but even those who can readily name him as the god of wine and good times must be puzzled by his presence in a poem whose subject and tone are just the opposite. The reader is forced to delve a little deeper into the "pilot light" metaphor and ask what it has to do with Dionysus and what Dionysus has to do with a person standing in a lake trying to escape the emotional turmoil of depression, grief, and death. Finding the answer may not be easy, but then the brain would not get much of a workout if it were.

In the end, the allusion to Dionysus has no bearing on the overall meaning and subject of the poem. Read it through and simply omit the phrase "which is where the pilot light / flickers in ancient statues of Dionysus." The meaning does not change, nor does the tone or any of the themes. Even the syntax remains coherent. The inclusion of this reference, then, is arbitrary, but it is there nonetheless. Maybe it signifies that the subject will "live again" after the loved one is gone or maybe it even implies that the sick will be resurrected in one form or another, but neither of these possibilities is certain. What is certain is that an odd allusion usually generates curiosity and curiosity makes people think. If for no other reason, the poet is probably satisfied with that.

Source: Pamela Steed Hill, Critical Essay on "Lake," in Poetry for Students, Thomson Gale, 2006.

What Do I Read Next?

• In a Boston Review article (Vol. 29, October – -November 2004) titled "Not Your Father's Formalism," the critic Rafael Campo offers interesting commentary on contemporary poets writing in formal verse. Campo contends that poets like Warren are not quite as strict as the formalists of long ago, but neither are they as loose as many contemporary experimental writers. Campo addresses Warren's Departure as well as new volumes by Marilyn Hacker and Mimi Khalvati.
• When Warren's mother, Eleanor Clark, was diagnosed with macular degeneration, she reacted with shock and despair. But she also used her permanently impaired eyesight as inspiration for Eyes, etc.: A Memoir (1977). Clark's near-blindness and later decline into dementia were the source for several poems in Departure, and this autobiographical book by Clark is a stirring account of the brave and determined battles she waged in later life.
• Deborah Digges, a poet and a contemporary of Warren, recently published Trapeze (2004). Her work is similar to Warren's in style and in substance — highbrow at times but also somber in addressing familiar themes. In this volume, several poems focus on loved ones who are dealing with loss and death, while others describe the rural New England landscape, with its woods, gardens, and barns.
• Margaret Lay-Dopyera offers a sometimes sad, sometimes funny, always intense account of what it is like to live with parents suffering from Alzheimer's and Parkinson's diseases in Until the Trees Are Bare: Losing One's Parents to Dementia (2002). Like Warren, Lay-Dopyera experienced firsthand the heartbreak, anguish, and exasperation of watching a parent (both, in Lay-Dopyera's case) lose the capacity to think, reason, and remember.