Love ? What Love? The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock is non a meter slightly sexual spang, at least(prenominal) in whatever traditionalistic sense. Rather it is a collection of the fragmented thoughts of a gentlemans gentleman being without self-esteem. Far from being about love, it is about unrivaled mans inability to love (himself or the world around him.) It is the cynical line of reasoning of a man who does non believe good things allow for always happen to him, or that the world has anything to offer him. The appellation is bitterly ironic; Prufrock does not love any body, least of all himself, (no matter how very much he might be after to the ideal of squeeze and passion), nor does he believe that any unitary could ever love him. His own life is devoid of love, so in his jaundice he brands his work a love song. Although the meter addresses the reader directly, saying, Let us go then, you and I, he is really just talking to himself. His is a record of shame and risk that he would never dare treat with another human being. The epigraph graphically illustrates this; begining with a passage from Dantes infernal region....
If I thought my reply would be to some sensation who would ever retort to earth, this flame would remain without advance movement; barely as no one has ever returned from this gulf, if what I get war cry is true, I can answer you with no fear of infamy. When one considers the poem in the light of this prologue, one must patch that Prufrock is basically telling the tale of his isolation and living hell, further without shame because he believes his words will never be heard. He speaks to himself, and poses ques tions to himself as many do when they are ! issue internally with issues and... If you want to get a full essay, rake it on our website:
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