Eliot is a depiction of sadness and a disillusioned narrator.
T. S. Eliot | Poetry Foundation
We can see this process clearly in "The Love Song of J. Prufrock." The poemcircles around not only an unarticulated question, as all readers agree, but also anunenvisioned center, the "one" whom Prufrock addresses. The poem nevervisualizes the woman with whom Prufrock imagines an encounter except in fragments and inplurals -- eyes, arms, skirts - synecdoches we might well imagine as fetishisticreplacements. But even these synecdochic replacements are not clearly engendered. Thebraceleted arms and the skirts are specifically feminine, but the faces, the hands, thevoices, the eyes are not. As if to displace the central human object it does notvisualize, the poem projects images of the body onto the landscape (the sky, the streets,the fog), but these images, for all their marked intimation of sexuality, also avoid thedesignation of gender (the muttering retreats of restless nights, the fog that rubs,licks, and lingers). The most visually precise images in the poem are those of Prufrockhimself, a Prufrock carefully composed "My morning coat, my collar mountingfirmly to the chin, / My necktie rich and modest, but asserted by a simple pin" --only to be decomposed by the watching eyes of another into thin arms and legs, a baldinghead brought in upon a platter. Moreover, the images associated with Prufrock arethemselves, as Pinkney observes, terrifyingly unstable, attributes constituting theidentity of the subject at one moment only to be wielded by the objective the next, likethe pin that centers his necktie and then pinions him to the wall or the arms thatmetamorphose into Prufrock's claws. The poem, in these various ways, decomposes the body,making ambiguous its sexual identification. These scattered body parts at once imply andevade a central encounter the speaker cannot bring himself to confront, but in the patternof their scattering they constitute the voice that Prufrock feels cannot exist in the gazeof the other.
in Elizabethan Translation, in Eliot's Selected Essays.
connects the personal and creative development of the Beat generation's famous icon with cultural changes in postwar America. Michael Hrebeniak asserts that Jack Kerouac's "wild form"—self-organizing narratives free of literary, grammatical, and syntactical conventions—moves within an experimental continuum across the arts to generate a Dionysian sense of writing as raw process. highlights how Kerouac made concrete his 1952 intimation of "something beyond the novel" by assembling ideas from Beat America, modernist poetics, action painting, bebop, and subterranean oral traditions.