Saturday, May 5, 2007

I'm knockin' on heaven's door

Recently, I have attacked a new piece of classic literature, begun (most appropriately) on my spiritual journey. Milton's Paradise Lost is en epic poem from the bad ole 1600s. It tells of Satan's fall from heaven, and describes his temptation of Adam and Eve as a subtle revenge upon God. Suffice to say, it's pretty much been banned as long as it's been written.

However, I tend to think that controversy is a good place to find literature, and with this tome, I think I am correct.

The Fall interests me, not just the story, which is interesting enough, but the traces it has through all literature. I think that my study at Oxford this summer is going to centered around TH White's The Once and Future King as a reincarnation of this concept/theme.

For whatever reason, humans are deeply attracted to ideals, to logic, to the loftiness of reason and generosity. But, this deep attraction will always be undermined by our lower, animal instincts. Revenge, lust (whether for sex, wealth, or power), rage--these forces pull otherwise intelligent and strong humans from their pedestals and make barbarians of the purest and most civilized. It happens over and over again, and always will--because of the time it happened first. This is more than enough reason for me to be interested in Milton's work.

Yet the philosophy is not what I have enjoyed most about my reading of Paradise Lost. Rather, the lyrical descriptions of places unknown to Man that are the most endearing.

More easy, wholesome thirst and appetite
More grateful to their Supper Fruits they fell,
Nectarine fruits which the compliant boughs
Yielded to them, sidelong as they sat recline
On the soft downy bank damaskt with flow'rs.

damaskt=patterned (a damask is also a type of rose, clever Milton)

No wonder the loss of Eden was such a price to pay, for such wonders. I always love it when a writer from centuries past is able to evoke something clearly to the modern reader--such beauty that transcends time and place.

Molly