The work of Adrienne Rich is varied but substantial. Her career began with a proper and young female poet writing about the acceptance of certain traditions associated with the divisions of power according to sex and evolved into the radical lesbian feminist fighting for political and social change. Since Rich began writing in the late 1940s, her style of writing has undergone many dramatic changes, from the formalist work written under the shadow of W.H. Auden, to the free verse present in her more recent volumes (Markey, 1988).
Rich has created a poetic persona that moves from a dutiful representation of traditional female roles including wife and mother to a radicalization through lesbianism and an attack on the oppressions of language itself: “I read the older women poets with their particular keenness, and ambivalence: Sappho, Christina Rosetti, Emily Dickinson… even in reading these women I was looking in them for the same things I had found in the poetry of men, because I wanted women poets to be the equals of men and to be equal was still confused with sounding the same” (Rich, 1995). The School Among the Ruins represents an inability to sustain the fragile connectedness and responsiveness essential to human well-being at the beginning of the 21st century, creating a jarring collective of war and oppression, and the use of art and poetry. By examining the concept of self-exploration present in “Tendril”, the final poem in Adrienne Rich’s The School Among the Ruins, it is evident that simplistic aesthetics associated with living are present, along with themes of humanity and discovering one’s identity.
The aesthetics present throughout Rich’s “Tendril” are simplistic, but filled with a quiet beauty that intricately ties all eight parts of the poem together. Rich makes it abundantly clear in the first section of the poem that while there may be joy in travelling, there is also a deep sadness that can stem from missing the familiarity of home: “Why does the outstretched finger of home / probe the dark hotel room like a flashlight beam / on the traveler, half- packed, sitting on the bed / face in hands, wishing her bag emptied again” (VIII.1, 1 – 4). Here, Rich is drawing a contrast between the ambiguous and unfamiliar setting of a darkened hotel room to the guilt and sadness associated with missing home. The guilt is evident in the image of an outstretched finger probing the room in an accusatory fashion, singling out the lone traveler, insinuating it is her fault that she is not at home despite the fact that she wishes she were there, too. Rich is exploring her own guilt in this passage; it is no coincidence that the traveler is also a woman.
Rich draws further contrast between the familiar and the unfamiliar through the figure of the security guard at the airport: “Why does the young security guard / pray to keep standing watch forever, never to fly / Why does he wish he were boarding/ as the passengers file past him into the plane” (VIII.1, 5-8). In one aspect, the security guard does not want to travel and would prefer to stand watch for eternity, doing what is familiar to him, but also wishes he was boarding, so he may experience the unfamiliar. The image of a male security guard is simple and easily pictured, but it is the glimpse into his mind that proves to be the aesthetic appeal of the passage. Rich’s self-exploration is represented through the contrasting figures of herself in a darkened hotel room and the male security guard. She is older, female, and more experienced with traveling, but still questions why an experienced traveler such as herself must be reminded of home; he is young, male, and inexperienced, torn between staying with what is familiar and experiencing new, unfamiliar territory. It is these two figures and their distinct contrast which speaks of their humanity, and the search for their identity.
Rich continues her journey of self-exploration through the second poem in “Tendril”. In this segment, she has fallen asleep on the plane, and dreams of a gecko and vines appearing on the plane: “Half-asleep in the dimmed cabin / she configures a gecko / aslant the overhead bin tendrils of vine / curling up through the cabin floor” (VIII.2, 1 – 4). Here, Rich uses the simplistic aesthetics associated with nature to represent life and living. This imagery is a stark contrast to the mechanical and monochrome appearance of the plane, and Rich is hyper-conscious of this: “buried here in night as in a valley / remote from rescue” (VIII.2, 5 – 6). Rich makes the association of the tendrils and gecko as being reminiscent of a valley, but still recognizes that she is on a plane, thousands of feet in the air, and therefore “remote from rescue”. Rich is also aware of the other passengers: “Unfound, confounded, vain, superstitious, whatever we were before / now we are still, outstretched, curled, however we were” (VIII.2, 7-8). She associates herself as being one of them, yet she is different, attempting to conduct a self-exploration and find her identity in the mutual humanity she shares with the other passengers.
Having slept through the night, Rich continues to reflect upon the mutual humanity of herself and the other passengers in part three of “Tendril”: “Dreaming a womb’s languor valleyed in death / among fellow strangers / she has merely slept through the night / a nose nearby rasps, everyone in fact is breathing” (VIII.3, 1 – 4). While this passage makes it unclear as to whether or not Rich has experienced death in her dream, it would appear as though the image of vines and a valley present in the previous section has progressed and enshrouded her and the other passengers in a valley-like womb of death. The idea of the plane as a valleyed womb represents the human tendency to revert back to the comforting confines of the womb, a safe and familiar place. Again, there is a contrast between the familiar and unfamiliar – Rich is dreaming of the safe familiarity of the womb among unfamiliar strangers.
This passage could be seen as potentially marking the beginning of Rich discovering her identity – once she wakes up, she realizes she was dreaming, and the rest of the passengers are completely unaware of what she has experienced: “the gecko has dashed into some crevice / of her brain, the tendrils retract / orange juice is passed on trays / declarations filled out in the sudden dawn” (VIII.3, 5-8). The other passengers have woken up, are drinking orange juice and making declarations – possibly about what they are going to do once they reach their destination. They are blissfully unaware that Rich has dreamed about their deaths, so absorbed in their orange juice and declarations that they take no notice of her. Certainly, our tendency to be so overwhelmingly self-absorbed is a characteristic of our humanity.
Perhaps Rich is asserting her identity through the subconscious of her dreams, silently voicing a fear of death with the simplistic aesthetics of nature: “The poems of her most recent collection, The School Among the Ruins, are especially powerful reminders that it is still possible to address the catastrophe of the historic present and to resist its harrowing world effects with a sensual optimism of body and language” (Tejada, 2006). Tejada’s assessment of Rich’s work can be applied under the scope of the September 11th terrorist attacks. The School Among the Ruins was published in 2004, just three short years after. The “harrowing world effects” Tejada refers to could be the increased anxiety and airport security that occurred as a result of 9/11. Rich battles these world effects with her sensual, poetic optimism and her simplistic aesthetics, focusing on the beauty of nature as created by her imagination. It is this which sets her apart from the rest of the passengers, and gives her a unique identity, but also speaks of her humanity in the way upon which she copes.
The fourth section of “Tendril” marks the beginning of Rich’s epiphany: “On the flight home, she confronts herself in the plane’s bathroom mirror, imagining that she is both confessor and priest, but that she is unable to either extend or to receive absolution” (Clark, 2009). Her exploration of the self has led her to a judging of the self, her humanity, and her identity: “and she’s the judge, prosecutor, witness, perpetrator / of her time / ‘s conspiracies of the ignorant / with the ruthless She’s the one she’s looking at” (VIII.4, 5-8). The simple imagery of viewing oneself in a mirror of a public bathroom is aesthetically relatable;
Rich recognizes that she is here, now, living and talking to her reflection in the mirror, a judgmental product of humanity.
“The final sequence of the book, “Tendril,” follows her personal on an international plane flight, where she meditates on the life that has found her, a life of action rather than contemplation” (Jarman, 2006). She has her epiphany facing the mirror in the airplane restroom:
This confessional reeks of sweet antiseptic
and besides she’s not confessing
her mind balks craving wild onions
nostril-chill of eucalyptus
Cut the harping she tells herself
You’re human, porous like all the rest (VIII.5, 1–4, 9 – 10)
“Called to be a visionary and a prophet, a good poet has to remember her humanity. Here it is not so much the self-reproach (“You’re human”) that reminds her and us, but the admission of craving for aspects of the California landscape that remind us that Rich’s greatest gift has always been to render the sensual details of the real world and her honest response to them” (Jarman, 2006). Jarman’s analysis of “Tendril” recognizes that the theme of humanity is an integral part to Rich’s poetry, along with the simplistic aesthetics of the California landscape and Rich’s poetic identity. The imagery of the confessional booth reeking of sweet antiseptic could be seen as a form of healing through confession, but Rich ignores this because “she’s not confessing”; rather, she is undergoing an epiphany. Rich’s epiphany involves making the association of being human, empty like the rest of the passengers on the plane, judgmental and absorbed in herself, therefore sharing with them a mutual theme of humanity.
In the sixth section of “Tendril”, Rich reflects on her failure to complete her project – “sieving, sifting, translating heavy scrolls” – and begins to understand herself as finite and human (Clark, 2009). It would seem here that Jarman’s previous claim of Rich leading a life of action as opposed to a life of contemplation rings particularly true in this context. Here, Rich uses the simplistic aesthetics of a library to establish a contrast between the mundane, repetitive actions of working in a library versus the excitement and unpredictability of travelling: “She was to have sat in a vaulted / library heavy scrolls wheeled to a desk / for sieving, sifting, translating / all morning then a quick lunch thick coffee” (VIII.6, 1– 4). The uninteresting monotony of working in the library is punctuated only by a lunch break, upon which “thick coffee” must be consumed in order to stay alert. However, Rich would have fallen asleep regardless: “but that’s a dream of dust/ frail are thy tents humanity/ facing thy monologues of force / She must have fallen asleep reading” (VIII.6, 7-10). The image of a vaulted library is reminiscent a feeling of being trapped; by travelling, Rich is, in a sense, free, or, at the very least, freer than she would have been.
Rich introduces other figures in the imaginary library setting in the seventh segment of “Tendril”, such as the woman who mopped the tiles, the chief librarian, the beggar, the man with the list of questions, and the man who wheeled the scrolls. While she does not seem to connect with them on a personal level, she seems to subtly suggest that, like the passengers on the plane, they are all connected by their humanity: “…a scarlet red gel / her ligaments and lungs / her wrought brain her belly’s pulse / disrupt among others mangled there” (VIII.7, 2-4). The imagery of the human organs present in this passage work to tie the other figures and Adrienne Rich together through their shared humanity. Although they all maintain a separate identity, their appearances all consist of the same organs and bodily fluids.
By focusing on what Rich was supposed to have done, it is evident that traveling is part of her identity, and working in a library is not. This is further supported in the final poem of “Tendril”: “She had wanted to find meaning in the past but the future drove / a vagrant tank a rogue bulldozer / rearranging the past in a blip / coherence smashed into vestige” (VIII.8, 1 – 4). In this passage, Rich places emphasis on past and future – her work in the library would have focused on the past, the history and knowledge written in scrolls and books, whereas her constant traveling focuses on the present and the future – where she is and where she is going. She then goes on to mention her grandchildren and the uncertainty of the future:
not for her even the thought
of her children’s children picking up
one shard of tile then another laying
blue against green seeing words
in three scripts flowing through vines and flowers
guessing at what it was
the levantine debris
Not for her but still for someone? (VIII.8, 6-12)
Rich uses the simplistic aesthetic of her grandchildren producing a mosaic amongst the vines and flowers of nature as a method of ensuring that her identity will be carried on through the generations. The “three scripts flowing through vines and flowers” could possibly refer to the three separate generations of her family – herself, her children, and her grandchildren, and how their identities are intertwined, but still different enough to warrant three separate scripts.
Their words and experiences will live on. The incorporation of nature and identity is reflective of our tendency as humans to associate our identity with the beauty of nature, because it represents life and vitality. However, Rich realizes that simply connecting with the beauty of nature is no guarantee that one will live a long and healthy life. The paradoxical antithesis of the “levantine debris” creates a stark contrast between the soft, silken material of levantine and the hard, dangerous idea of falling debris. Rich recognizes that death can strike in an instant, and although it is most likely not going to strike her because her life has almost reached its end, the uncertainty surrounding the falling debris and who it may kill warrants the question mark.
As Rich herself ages, she begins to uncover and explore such topics as physical pain, self-renewal, memory, and life review (Hennenberg, 2006). “Tendril” strongly reinforces this notion as Rich conducts a personal journey of self-exploration through the past, present, and future, along with attempting to establish her identity and its place in the world.
She compares and contrasts herself with other various figures, consciously aware of their differences, but also of their shared humanity. Rich uses the imagery present in the simplistic aesthetics of living, such as the gecko and vine tendrils present in the second poem of “Tendril”, to further establish her unique identity and human tendencies. These various actions work together to connect the piece as one: “Throughout the collection, there are patterns of rhythm, image and language that work to unite the whole as a single orchestrated movement” (Bergquist, 2009). The eight separate poems of “Tendril” are intertwined and rely on each other to successfully communicate Rich’s exploration of the self. It is only through the perspective of Rich herself that we can understand the intent of her poetry, and begin to understand the mind of one of the greatest American poets in history.
