Emily Dickinson Essay

Emily Dickinson’s great skill and unparalleled creativity in playing with words and their connotations in her attempt to convey to the reader the power of a book are evident. In this poem, she is considering the power of books or of poetry to carry us away from our immediate surroundings to a world of imagination. Her poem is suffused with (full of) metaphors, as she is desirous of likening a book to various means of transportation. To do this she alludes (allusion-noun) directly to concrete objects such as â€Å"frigate,† â€Å"coursers† and â€Å"chariot,† which carry archaic (ancient) connotations. The difficulty inherent in the use of these vehicles has to do with the reader’s knowledge concerning the properties and characteristics evinced by a â€Å"frigate,† â€Å"coursers† and a â€Å"chariot. † The poetess associates the swiftness of a â€Å"frigate,† â€Å"coursers† and a â€Å"chariot†Ã¢â‚¬â€as well as their use to explore new lands and seas—with the power of a book or poetry to usher (lead, guide) us into another dimension, perhaps shrouded (covered) in mystery but definitely rewarding. If the reader is not acquainted (familiar) with these means of transportation that reigned supreme, so to speak, centuries ago, he / she is denied access to the meaning that the poet seeks to impart by means of these vehicles. But Emily Dickinson does not limit herself to these vehicles alone; the whole poem is reminiscent (suggestive) of a past era when people used â€Å"frigate[s],† â€Å"coursers† and â€Å"chariot[s]† to travel â€Å"lands away. The words â€Å"traverse,† (to cross an area of land or water) â€Å"oppress,† (stress) and â€Å"frugal,† (simple and inexpensive) with which the poem is interspersed—all of them are of Latin origin, thus lending it a formal hue. She has been careful to choose kinds of transportation and names for books that have romantic connotations. â€Å"Frigate† suggest exploration and adventure; â€Å"coursers† beauty, spirit and speed; â€Å"chariot,† speed and ability to go th rough air as well as on land. Chariot reminds us of the myth of Phaethon, who tried to drive the chariot of Apollo (Greek god of sun), and of Aurora (Greek goddess of dawn) with her horses. How much of the meaning of the poem comes from this selection of vehicles and words is apparent if we try to substitute steamship for â€Å"frigate,† horses for â€Å"coursers,† and streetcar for â€Å"chariot. † How would the poem sound if, instead of likening a book to a â€Å"frigate,† â€Å"coursers,† and a â€Å"chariot,† one resolved to use a â€Å"Mercedes Benz,† a â€Å"GMC† or a â€Å"Porsche† to convey the same meaning, that of speed and swiftness? Emily Dickinson’s shrewdness in selecting the most appropriate diction is superb and undoubtedly holds up a mirror for the reader to see what it is that she had in mind when writing the poem. On a more technical note, related to the rhyme scheme, it is obvious that the poem is written in open form or in free verse (from the French vers libre), as indicated by the lack of a regular rhyme pattern, as a parallel to â€Å"prancing poetry† or the power of a book to carry you to foreign â€Å"lands† where no man has ever trod before. Liberated from the confines and shackles of rhyme, Emily Dickinson’s â€Å"There is no frigate like a book† makes a permanent impression on the reader, as it â€Å"entangles†¦ a part of the Divine essence,† to quote W. B. Yeats. Allusions in There is no Frigate like a Book 1. The story of Phaeton In Greek mythology, Phaeton or Phaethon was the son of Helios (Phoebus). Perhaps the most famous version of the myth is given us through Ovid in his Metamorphoses (Book II). The name â€Å"Phaeton† means the â€Å"shining†. In the version of the myth told by Ovid in the Metamorphoses, Phaeton ascends into heaven, the home of his suspected father. His mother Clymene had boasted that his father was the sun-god Apollo. Phaeton went to his father who swore by the river Styx to give Phaeton anything he should ask for in order to prove his divine paternity. Phaeton wanted to drive his chariot (the sun) for a day. Though Apollo tried to talk him out of it by telling him that not even Zeus (the king of gods) would dare to drive it, the chariot was fiery hot and the horses breathed out flames. Phaeton was adamant. When the day came, Apollo anointed Phaeton’s head with magic oil to keep the chariot from burning him. Phaeton was unable to control the fierce horses that drew the chariot as they sensed a weaker hand. First it veered too high, so that the earth grew chill. Then it dipped too close, and the vegetation dried and burned. He accidentally turned most of Africa into desert; bringing the blood of the Ethiopians to the surface of their skin, turning it black. â€Å"The running conflagration spreads below. But these are trivial ills: whole cities burn, And peopled kingdoms into ashes turn. [3] Rivers and lakes began to dry up, Poseidon rose out of the sea and waved his trident in anger at the sun, but soon the heat became even too great for him and he dove to the bottom of the sea. Eventually, Zeus was forced to intervene by striking the runaway chariot with a lightning bolt to stop it, and Phaethon plunged into the river Eridanos. Apollo, stricken with grief, refused to drive his c hariot for days. Finally the gods persuaded him to not leave the world in darkness. Apollo blamed Zeus for killing his son, but Zeus told him there was no other way. This story has given rise to two latter-day meanings of â€Å"phaeton†: one who drives a chariot or coach, especially at a reckless or dangerous speed, and one that would or may set the world on fire 2. (Aurora, goddess of the dawn, equivalent to the Greek goddess Eos ) In Roman mythology, Aurora, goddess of the dawn, renews herself every morning and flies across the sky in her chariot, announcing the arrival of the sun. Her parentage was flexible: for Ovid, she could equally be Pallantis, signifying the daughter of Pallas,[1] or the daughter of Hyperion. 2] She has two siblings, a brother (Sol, the sun) and a sister (Luna, the moon).. In Roman mythology, Aurora, goddess of the dawn, renews herself every morning and flies across the sky, announcing the arrival of the sun. Her parentage was flexible: for Ovid, she could equally be Pallantis, signifying the daughter of Pallas,[1] or the daughter of Hyperion. [2] She has two siblings, a brother (Sol, the sun) and a sister (Luna, the moon). Rarely Roman writers[3] imitated Hesiod and later Greek poets and made the Anemoi, or Winds, the offspring of the father of the stars Astraeus, with Eos/Aurora.