Forbidden knowledge—for example the closed door boldly lettered 'keep out'—usually arouses our curiosity. Other forms of forbidden knowledge may provoke self-restraint and withdrawal. In the latter context, eight lines of a single poem by Emily Dickinson, because they describe the rewards of renunciation, bear comparison with Madame de Lafayette's 200-page novel, La Princesse de Clèves, about which I wrote in the last issue.[1] We must approach Dickinson's poem unhurriedly and without disturbance, as we would approach a brook trout lurking in a pool.
Feature, 3433 words
To read the full text of this piece, please choose one of the following options:
|
If you are already a subscriber to the Review's electronic edition, please sign in: |
To subscribe to the electronic edition, please press the button below. |
To purchase access to this article for $3, please press the button below. |