“[...] a morass of despair violence death with a thin layer of glass spread upon the surface where Love, a tiny crab with pincers and rainbow shell, walked delicately ever sideways but getting nowhere, while the sun [...] rose higher in the sky its tassels dropping with flame threatening every moment to melt the precarious highway of glass. And the people: giant pathworks of colour with limbs missing and parts of their mind snipped off to fit them into the outline of the free pattern.”
This quote from Janet Frame's writing depicts a vivid and bleak image of the world. The use of metaphors and personification creates a stark contrast between the harsh reality of despair, violence, and death, and the fragile facade of love represented by the crab on the layer of glass. The imagery of the sun threatening to melt the glass highway symbolizes the constant danger and instability of the world. The description of the people as "giant pathworks of colour" with missing limbs and snipped minds highlights the struggle of individuals to conform to societal expectations and the loss of individuality in the process. Overall, the quote conveys a sense of hopelessness and the struggle to find meaning and connection in a chaotic world.
In this evocative passage from Janet Frame's writing, the delicate balance between love and despair, beauty and destruction, is vividly depicted. The imagery of a fragile "highway of glass" overlaid on a dark landscape speaks to the precarious nature of our modern existence. As we navigate our way through a world filled with violence and chaos, it is important to remember the importance of love and connection, even when it seems like we are making no progress. Just like the tiny crab in the passage, we must continue to move forward, navigating the challenges that lie ahead.
In this passage, Janet Frame beautifully illustrates the surreal and chaotic nature of the world, using vivid imagery to convey the sense of despair and longing for love. The juxtaposition of the delicate crab with the violent surroundings creates a striking contrast, highlighting the struggle for connection and meaning in a harsh and unforgiving environment.
As you reflect on this passage from Janet Frame's writing, consider the following questions:
“People dread silence because it is transparent; like clear water, which reveals every obstacle—the used, the dead, the drowned, silence reveals the cast-off words and thoughts dropped in to obscure its clear stream. And when people stare too close to silence they sometimes face their own reflections, their magnified shadows in the depths, and that frightens them. I know; I know.”
“I walked up the ramp and stood in the van, trying to decide where to begin my inspection of the concealed words whose bones were molded together by men to make either an awesome vision of truth that would guard any door of the mind, or a creature that would stand for a while, deceptively whole, then collapse, scattering across the threshold the dry dead bones that did not even burst into flame at their friction one with the other.”
“It is my trade," he said. "I work for the bean family, and every day there are deaths among the beans, mostly from thirst. They shrivel and die, they go blind in their one black eye, and I put them in one of these tiny coffins. Beans, you know, are beautifully shaped, like a new church, like modern architecture, like a planned city”
“The sun is all love and murder, judgement, the perpetual raid of conscience, paratrooping light which opens like a snow-blossom in the downward drift of death. Wherever I turn - the golden cymbals of judgement, the summoning of the torturers of light.”
“So we went to bed, assaulted by sleep that fumed at us from medicine glasses, or was wielded from small sweet-coated tablets -- dainty bricks of dream wrapped in the silk stockings of oblivion.”
“Listening to her, one experienced a deep uneasiness as of having avoided an urgent responsibility, like someone who, walking at night along the banks of a stream, catches a glimpse in the water of a white face or a moving limb and turns quickly away, refusing to help or to search for help. We all see the faces in the water. We smother our memory of them, even our belief in their reality, and become calm people of the world; or we can neither forget or help them. Sometimes by a trick of circumstances or dream or a hostile neighborhood of light we see our own face.”