Monday 23 March 2009

Man hands on misery to man

Sylvia Plath's and Ted Hughes's son, Nicholas, has killed himself. We don't know the complexities of his life, but he couldn't have had the best of starts - mother killed herself when he was one year old. This seems to sum it up:

They fuck you up, your mum and dad.
They may not mean to, but they do.
They fill you with the faults they had
And add some extra, just for you.

But they were fucked up in their turn
By fools in old-style hats and coats,
Who half the time were soppy-stern
And half at one another's throats.

Man hands on misery to man.
It deepens like a coastal shelf.
Get out as early as you can,
And don't have any kids yourself.

Philip Larkin, 'This Be The Verse'.

2 comments:

Anonymous said...

How depressing. Is it too absurd to suggest that people should take some responsibility for their own lives without blaming their parents?

The Plashing Vole said...

I think Larkin did take responsibility for his own life - and it is a dark poem - but it's hard not to agree that one's parents are, for better or worse, the primary influence on one's development.

Also, the second and third stanza makes it clear that the narrator isn't exempt and that his parents aren't specifically to blame ('they were fucked up in their turn' and 'man hands on misery to man'). In his depressing weltanschauang, it's a cultural problem.