Louis MacNeice captures the dichotomy of life: the mind blowing
complexity and simple everydayness, which is transcribed whilst
retaining an unwritten quality. There is no plodding, weighted
sensation or boring narrative tone- it seems fluid, life-like,
experienced first-hand. Fresh images explode, followed by
familiarities, triggered memories of how a tangerine tastes, what
it feels like to 'spit the pips.'
One way in which this velocity is accomplished is seen in the first
five words, which convey both a past tense and speed: 'The room
was suddenly rich,' the adverb 'suddenly' creating an
intensity, as well as the feeling that it's too early for such
a word- perhaps we've missed something. There is no laborious
introduction to the state of the room beforehand- we only know that
it 'was suddenly rich,' but with what? As if there is not
time enough to explain such a detail, the poem moves on:
'...and the great bay-window was/Spawning snow and pink roses
against it.' there is an ambiguity in the word 'it,' as
the snow and pink roses could be spawned against the room or, more
logically, against the 'great bay-window,' though it is
also the origin of the 'spawning.' The use of phrases such
as 'spawning snow' gives the impression of chaotic
movement- 'spawning' implies uncontrollable speed, and to
the observer in the poem, it is as though the snow is being created
by the window. The word itself, spawning, is active and
life-giving- 'soundlessly collateral.' The combination of
'soundlessly' with 'collateral - silently damaged,
destructed and it works, because both snow and roses are soft, and
the image of a whirlwind of snow and pink roses crashing into a
huge window, then seeing bruised pink petals on the ground-
'collateral damage. Then, the rhythmic rhyme of 'collateral
and incompatible' slows the reader down to a steady beat as it
rolls off the tongue.
