It's not often that we get a poet so transparent in his writing process as Walcott, or so willing to interact with his characters on the page as he develops them. But before we start writing Walcott thank you notes in gratitude for his transparency in Omeros, we should probably remember that Walcott warns us that all "I's" are fiction—even the autobiographical ones. What we're seeing in Omeros, then, is a meticulously crafted commentary on the art of writing.
Walcott takes epic conventions (i.e., the noble wanderer-hero who goes on a quest to fulfill his destiny) and uses them to elevate the story of people and places marginalized by history. But while this form of poetry brings a heaping dose of nobleness to its subjects, it does something even more significant: It acts as preserver of language and cultural memory.
Because this preservation mission is critical, Walcott recognizes that the poet has to guard against the kind of personal ambition that might blind him to what is true and important in the craft. In other words, he has to keep his eyes on the collective prize, not the personal one. The consequences of selfishness are dire; just ask the souls of the poets in hell.
Questions About Literature and Writing
- What does Walcott see as the purpose of poetry?
- Why are the poets in the narrator's vision of hell being tormented?
- Why is Walcott so attracted to ancient epic poetry in this work?
- In what ways does Walcott link writing (a.k.a. art) to history in Omeros?
- What is Walcott's last word on the Homeric associations to the island/woman? Are they valid? Or just over-the-top?
Chew on This
Walcott sees that his craft has caused him a great deal of trouble and might entice him to a life dedicated to selfish ambition, but he's also convinced that there is no "light beyond metaphor."
Walcott and Dennis Plunkett are not primarily interested in history.