I know, I know, we read My Tea with Madame Descartes a while ago, but I never wrote about it. This week we have a blog due and no reading so Professor Corrigan told my group that we needed to write about something we had already read but didn't post on. It is actually a little funny because, when I read the poem again, I noticed that the man interviewing Madame Descartes was late for his meeting with her just like I am a bit late in writing about it. I also found it ironic that the title of the story is My Tea with Madame Descartes when they aren't actually drinking tea. I know she isn't and I don't think the author mentioned what the reporter was drinking. She is drinking aperitifs which are a type of wine served as an appetizer or a cocktail. I'm going off on a tangent here, I need to focus on something a bit more important.
In class, we discussed questions that we had concerning the poem. There were quite a few and I am not surprised. Poetry confuses a lot of people, including myself. My mind just doesn't work that way. I had quite a few questions about this poem. I still do. I have to accept that I won't understand it all. I won't know why she took a picture of him at the end of the interview. I don't know why he was interviewing her now of all times. Had there been a scandal she was involved in? Were there rumors about her that he wanted to clear up? I don't believe that he ever even asked her a question, she just started to talk. Actually, I don't think he said anything at all throughout the entire poem. It is all very strange.
Reading this story again helped me think more about the Madame Descartes character. I started to see past the fame, scandal, and her self-centered nature. I realized that I know someone like her. She toys with men, likes to start trouble, and talks a lot about herself. Something else about this person is that, with her close friends, all of that fades away and she struggles a lot. She only craves attention because she isn't confident enough about herself. The more people that like her and surround her the better she feels about herself. When all of those people are gone and there is nobody to impress she loses her joy. I wonder if Madame Descartes is like that. I wonder if, behind all of the beauty and fame, she is insecure. I know it would be hard to believe but if you look at the person that I know you might not believe it either. The things people think about or say when their walls are down just might surprise you.
I'm right there with you on poetry. I don't know how to read it. I'm reluctant to read something I don't understand but I'm always up for a challenge.
ReplyDeleteI agree with both of you poetry is my weak point and it shows. I am clueless when people start talking about what the poem meant or how they even came to that conclusion. I suppose I just don’t dig deep enough into the poetry to really understand it for all it’s worth.
ReplyDeleteI love poetry, but this poem irked em to no end. However I do like your thoughts on the story. Poetry is like your view of Madame Descartes, its a front. Its a way to let your walls and say what you want yet remaining safe, like hiding in plain sight. Anyway, good thoughts
ReplyDeleteI agree with everyone plus you about poetry. It feels like you can never understand the full piece. You may understand the meaning a little, but you may not know why the poet used the language or why used short lines. I can never fully understand the full thing
ReplyDeletenice post! I agree with what you said about poetry..I don't know always how to read it or get something out of it
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