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Six Sonneted "Little Novels"
Moby DickIn those days priests preached of whales--devilsthey called them--their tiny eyes and sure-thing wings. Ahab talked to the whale's severed head, sphinx- like and dumb as sand, said, "Tell me the secrets of underwater breathing and small-boned fish." Moby Dick's ear was a mere pin-prick, his heart unreachable under all that flesh. Shark- riddled waters and mermaid-lush islands dotted Ahab's maps, inspiring lust and lunar dreaming. The crew liked to sing rounds that sounded lovely when the whales joined. Even the harpooners swooned, teary-eyed, their hands trembling like fish before they died. When they hit the high notes--chords of angels. Moby Dick 2Fleece gave a sermon to the sharks. He saidthe only difference between angels and sharks was the way they circled blood from afar-- clockwise or not--and their number of teeth. Stubbs and Starbuck loved a good whale steak, each licking lips and picking whiskers to the tune of "Under the Boardwalk." Strange rescues of cabin boys and mermen incited even the Christians on board. Delighted heathens told tales of a temperate hell while angel-sharks flew through the air, no bells or trumpets to mark their coming. Ishmael was glad to find the meaning of evil-- what a waste of knowledge when you're dead! For Whom the Bell TollsThe code hero is afraid of the darkbut loves a good war, blowing up a bridge, making love all night to avoid the frig- id sting of heroism. When Pilar missed Valencia, Pablo told her: "Honey, don't my horses mean anything?" Poor Pablo, capitalist in the making, such a ragged soldier, a non-gypsy. The difference between murder and killing is the difference between coffee and tea, ole! When Pilar saw Jordon's lifeline bleed into unlucky pores, she held her tongue. The bridge blew up--kapow--each soft lung full of gun powder, each bruised cough a spark. For Whom the Bell Tolls 2Robert Jordan changed his mind when he metMaria. He thought: "Hey, what the fuck, I'm an American! I love to buck the system, parrot war slogans, defy the cynics who can't die, won't die, but die anyway, their eyes rolling in death." Maria hated bull-fights. Even the best warriors were cowards in her eyes, the least revered. Seventy-two hours before his end, our hero met his true love. Snow in May is uncommon, even in Hemingway. Envision your footprints, your enemy following them to cave and aerie, sparing your life at the last minute. Pride and PrejudiceLydia wanted sex, Charlotte wanted cash.Elizabeth wanted a husband who flew like a UN delegate to rescue the needy yet rolled in gold at the same time. Fitzwilliam Darcy thought it a crime Elizabeth's family burped at the table and broke crystal with their shrill decibels and seedy salutations. Jane and Liz dreamt of nineteenth century picket fences, rough sketches of husbands sitting in comfy chairs, snoring, debating, proud and prejudiced. Fair maids were men's due and prey, pretty misses who got spices just right. The marriage system made sense even as it wobbled and crashed. Pride and Prejudice 2Mary Bennet's fingers on ivorywere like her mother's tongue, socially sloppy and stupid. Darcy boastfully said his mother spoke French and dressed in satin, but she'd died when he was three. Jane Austen died at forty-two: zenith of her power. "Janeites" read too much into it, skewered Austen's books in support of snobbery and self-righteousness, sainthood, and free condoms (whoops, wrong nineties). Her heroine breathed irony, miscommunication at parties. Liz chewed with her mouth closed when everything in her screamed to open wide and squeeze mashed potatoes through her teeth. Animal FarmOld Major (Karl Marx) taught pigs to readand organize. Snowball's (Trotsky's) Windmill flourished under Napoleon's (Stalin's) two-legged rule, pig rhetoric, the blight of the porcine underclass. Boars on hind legs carried placards that read, "Power to Pig/Men!" They buried hams and eggshells, moved the furniture around for their convenience. Even donkey skeptics stopped using past tense and folded themselves into soft couches, forgetting the first commandment which said: "Animals are forbidden to sleep in beds." Pillowcases and sheets kept in the shed were burned in that final Battle of Greed. Animal Farm 2Napoleon took a bunch of puppiesand raised them to be his henchmen, spoiled all the fun. The revolution boiled under everyone's hide until the pigs dug up Old Major's skull and made a big deal out of the former leader's commandments. Whips of dystopia, disenchantment ruined the farm and Boxer became glue, all because of hunger, which only proves how important it is for animals to never wear stripes or badges--criminals and soldiers look alike from behind. Too bad for the hens and sheep, ultra-kind barnyarders who never did get lucky. The Great GatsbyDaisy floated, complacent as face cream,above Myrtle's home, the valley of ashes. "My husband's a mechanic, that's a fact," Myrtle said, her white powder seeping into the little greedy lines peeping out of eyes and mouth. Her lover dogged her, her husband left greasy hand prints everywhere. Her only way up was through a man. Nick Carraway was still alive at the end of all that death, thumbing back to the Great Lakes where savoir-faire was no cause for debate, where nouveau riches grew bored with the prairies, jet-skied down the mighty Mississippi, Mercedied home where no buffalo roamed free. The Adventures of Tom SawyerTom successfully avoided suicideby being naughty, proving the theory that boys who fake their own deaths and taunt dreary teachers wind up with the niftiest girls-- like Becky Thatcher with her smart short curls, cave-courage, and propensity for bullies. Her pantalettes were embroidered with lilies, but don't let that fool you--she loved adventure. In fact, The Adventures of Becky Thatcher was conceived by Twain's sweetheart, Laura Hawkins. Like L.H., Becky loved flirting, talking to Huck or Joe when Tom wasn't behaving-- which only proves that a doodlebug dangling from a cave's mouth means there's a witch inside. The Adventures of Tom Sawyer 2Tom's famous white-washing-the-fence scamenabled the small infidel to trade apples for heaven, doughnuts for good grades in school. Work was what Tom had to do. Play was flipping a pinch bug in church, a game of pirates that lasted so long the whole town had picked out his pint-sized casket, bemoaning how some day he could have been president of IBM or an excellent writer of kid's fiction like Mark Twain-- who stopped writing before Tom became a crafty politician or soldier of fortune. In the novel, Tom preferred the role of baby maker, family man. Contents |
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