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The Love-Song of J. Alfred Prufrock, a la Shmoop.

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Love is great and all, but it can also be the source of a lot of stress...

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...especially when your love is unrequited...

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...and you have a million other things to worry about, like whether or not your bald

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spot is getting bigger. In T.S. Eliot's Love-Song of J. Alfred Prufrock...

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...the narrator has a lot on his mind.

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But what is it that really has poor Prufrock so torn up?

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First of all, he’s afraid to express his love, because it may not be returned.

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He'll be a happy man if his lady friend loves him back...

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...but what if she disses him?

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The potential for romantic disaster is enough to make anyone a little crazy.

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But it may be something else…

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Prufrock loathes himself. Seriously, the man mentions his bald spot multiple times...

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...and worries about his skinny limbs...

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...and frets about his wimpiness.

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He claims he “should have been a pair of ragged claws scuttling across the floor of

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silent seas.”

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It's an understandable wish: at least then Prufrock wouldn't have to deal with hair loss.

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Third option...

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Prufrock knows he's a fool...

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...but he's also stuck in a world he doesn't understand, surrounded by pretentious people

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with the emotional depth of a kiddie pool.

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No wonder he feels so lost and unsure. So, what's got Prufrock so worked up?

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Is it unrequited love?

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Self-loathing?

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Or is it that he feels lost… a foolish man surrounded by cruel, shallow people?

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Shmoop amongst yourselves.

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