LITR 5535: American
Romanticism
Student Poetry Presentation, fall 2003
April Patrick
10/27/03
Robert
Hayden, “Those Winter Sundays,” Norton 2669
In
this poem, I identified the following issues from Objective 1b:
individuality, loss, nostalgia, the sublime, transcendence and
correspondence.
Born
in Detroit in 1913, Robert Hayden’s parents separated shortly after his birth
and his mother left him with a foster family, the Haydens, soon after that.
Life with the Haydens in so-called Paradise Valley, a ghetto in Detroit,
was fraught with contention and occasional violence, the 'chronic angers'
mentioned in the poem. Robert’s
foster father encouraged him to transcend poverty via education. Yet, “his
foster father found it difficult to communicate with Robert who always had his
head in a book and was constantly studying” (Jennifer Nye’s phrase from
2002). The reader is not surprised
by this biographical tidbit. The tension of this dearth of intimate verbal communication
between father and son is clear in the poem:
“No one ever thanked him,” and “speaking indifferently to him.”
A
quote on N 2663 seems to correlate with the theme of this poem:
Hayden said of himself, “In
the midst of so much turmoil…I didn’t know if I loved or hated.”
Individualism
The
first romantic quality I notice is the highly individualized voice and the
heightened state of feeling of the poem. The
Bedford Guide points out on p. 417 that “since Romantics believed humans to be
naturally good, and their emotions to be reliable, they also believed in the
sanctity of individual expression. They considered self-analysis to be especially constructive,
particularly as it pertained to personal development. Romantic writers highly valued the exploration and evaluation
of the inner self; they brought the review of and focus on self into the realm
of Literature.’ Hayden probes his
past thoughts, emotions and experience in a “backward quest” (as Nye stated
nicely in the 2002 class) for understanding and transcendence, as seen
especially in the final question, “What did I know, what did I know…?”
Loss/Nostalgia
The
poem is a dirge of opportunities lost--the chance to convey his love for his
father seem gone forever. The
reader gets a clear sense of painful regret when Hayden writes, “No one ever
thanked him,” after pounding home to us how tirelessly his father labors.
Even on Sunday, the day of rest, even with hands painfully weathered and
“cracked” from working all week, his father gets out of bed (while his
thankless family still snuggles under their blankets) and makes a fire to warm
the house that is “blueblack” with the cold of a lightless, winter dawn.
His father probably had to venture outside to the snow-covered woodpile
while the family slept. The poet
laments “speaking indifferently to him who had driven out the cold and
polished my good shoes as well.” Such
loss, of course, is a staple of Romanticism.
The height of this Romantic loss is the final line:
“What did I know, what did I know…?” implying that life was much
easier in the before he became aware of his mistake and the impossibility of
changing it now.
The
Sublime
This
fusion of pain and love in this poem forms a moment of the sublime:
the realization that love can be demonstrated in other ways than out loud
in words or even in affectionate hugs, that his father displayed his love
through selfless, continual service to his family; the bitter memory of the
“chronic angers” in the house that he feared as a boy; and the anguish over
failing to show his father his appreciation when he had the chance.
The
phrase “the cold splintering, breaking” convey a sense of pain mixed with
pleasure: witnessing a sheet of ice
on a roof crack and crash to the ground is “chilling” (Nye’s word, 2002)
and exhilarating at once. “Splintering”
and “breaking” connote a painful experience of jaggedness and sharpness.
Transcendence
The
line, “And slowly I would rise and dress” evokes the usual, upward motion of
transcendence. Seeming to ascend to
a zenith whereupon he can peer into his past with acuity, the poet gains
increased awareness of his father and their love. The realization and memory of his father’s unspoken love
help the poet transcend the frightening “chronic angers” of his childhood
home.
Correspondence:
The
house represents the self, mirroring the character’s psyche. The house warms
up when Father stokes the fire; the poet’s heart warms as he reflects on how
his father’s small, silent, caretaking gestures and favors reveal his love.
The ice on the roof splinters and breaks as the house warms up; the
character’s heart splinters and breaks with the pain and beauty of realizing
his lost love for a father he’d feared and perhaps resented.
Question:
Can
you connect this poem to any of the other texts we‘ve read so far in this
class? What specific Romantic
objectives do they share?
Discussion:
Dr.
White: I think of “Blackberrying”--the
blues and blacks, beautiful colors, the mixture of love and pain.
Mary:
I thought of Bradstreet. Like
the father here, her preoccupation with the family, serving the family.
Emily:
The “early Sunday morning” seems like a very vague Biblical
reference. The reference to shining
the shoes would seem to indicate going to church.
Why else would you shine your shoes early Sunday?
I thought of Thoreau out in the woods alone since the poem ends
with “lonely offices” and seems like love for him is a solitary
pursuit but this poem is set in a domestic setting.
Sheila:
Transcendence… talking about the house….
Yvonne:
Self-sacrifice links children to parents.
Dr.
White: Sacrifice in Romanticism like the scene with the colt in Mohicans--not
sure what role it plays.
Mary:
I wondered if the roles are reversed here--is the father taking the
stereotypical female in this poem?
Yvonne:
No, making a fire in cold weather is a pretty manly job.…relationship
between father and son….
Mary:
Fathers haven’t been talked about much in Literature.
Dr.
White: You’ve done the right thing in finding all the ways the poem is
romantic. The other thing to do with this sort of poem is to find the ways it
isn’t romantic.
April:
Yes, it was quite strenuous to force this poem into those readings.
Dr.
White: So you can acknowledge that
it has elements of realism?
April:
Yes, the realism is clear in it. It’s
not wholly romantic. The “chronic
angers,” “splintering, breaking,” being cold, the “blueblack” morning,
and the fact that love for him has “austere and lonely offices” all show
reality rearing its ugly head.
Sherry:
Is it possible that all literature is partly realist, though?
Dr.
White: Poe might be the only
example of one who can not avoid Romantic in stories.
Dr.
White: Romanticism sings--is
lyrical--and realism plods. The
first stanza doesn’t sing, but the last one does, especially last lines.
Charley:
And the remembering and the nostalgia of the past make it romantic.
Nancy:
Remembering things that make you happy, though.
Charley:
“Sundays too” would be romantic.
Dr.
White: When you are separated from
the thing described, easier to be romantic.
April:
If the dad were still living with him, the “chronic angers” and
whatnot would make it harder to look upon him with fond romanticized feelings.
Dr.
White: …the poem resists singing,
until the very end.