Twenty-three people gathered together via Zoom to close-read Charles Simicโs 1938 poem โIn the Libraryโ and, after discussing the text, write to a prompt.
96% of participants revealed, via the NM survey, that they have participated in four or more of these NM live, virtual sessions, which, again tonight, brought together people from three continents. We love coming back together each Monday night, welcoming back our core group of veteran participants and welcoming new faces as well. Our community has grown with time, our bonds strengthened, and our eagerness to expand our narrative medicine family always growing.
After quickly reviewing the use of technology and the guidelines emanating from Narrative Medicineโs values of confidentiality and narrative humility: approaching texts with openness, welcoming diverse perspectives, and responding to each other with respect and specific references to what is โseenโ and heard in each otherโs writing.
As we did last week we co-constructed possible meanings in the text by offering each observation, intertextual association, or visceral reaction as โa piece of the puzzle.โ The first piece of the puzzle attended to the title โIn the Libraryโ which locates the reader, as well as the speaker of the poem, in a library. (Many of us chatted our remembrances of libraries/librarians in our past or named famous librarians such as Jorge Luis Borges of Argentinaโs National Library.) Later there was attention paid to being in the dictionary that was in the library where โ[a]ngels and gods huddled [i]n dark unopened booksโ (books that are โwhisperingโ) and how those words suggested a hallowed space. As we explored the space of the poem, we noted the how many languages come together within the library. For example, โthe language of the library is silenceโ, but the โthe language of books are wordsโ that are being whispered to us as we browse through the space.
One person drew attention to the lines alluding to the prevalence of angels, in times past, being โas plentiful [a]s species of fliesโ making it necessary โto wave both arms [j]ust to keep them away.โ Another person heard the speaker wishing for the special power of the librarian to hear what s(he) could hear. There was speculation about the identity of Octavio, to whom Simic had dedicated the poem. We agreed that there was not only a secret in the dictionary but also mystery in the poem to which we were not privy. As we wondered what the books are whispering, we wondered also โwhat kind of deep listening is enough to hear what they are sayingโ. We noted that Mrs. Jonesโ โhead tipped as it listeningโ โ what kind of gestures and adjustments are necessary for us to really listen to whatโs around us?
We moved to the prompt: Write about what Mrs. Jones hears as she passes A Dictionary of Angels and wrote for four minutes.
Four participants read aloud. One person styled Mrs. Jonesโs hair into a bun (and someone later added a pencil pushing through the bun!) and imagined her hearing an angel tell a joke. Another wrote as if she were the librarian and offered to be a witness to what the book held. One person expressed her desire for the angels to have stories. One narrative ended with a loose page of the dictionary floating down onto the surprised librarianโs feetโand left the reader to imagine what was on the page. Another writer had Mrs. Jones hear the angels murmuring, in ancient languages, doubts, kindness, peace, and โright wisdom.โ
We thank you all for your participation and contributions to our collective puzzle. See you soon!
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Please join us for our next session Wednesday, July 29th at 12pm EDT, with more times listed on our Live Virtual Group Sessions page.
In the Library - Charles Simic (1938) For Octavio Thereโs a book called A Dictionary of Angels. No one had opened it in fifty years, I know, because when I did, The covers creaked, the pages Crumbled. There I discovered The angels were as plentiful As species of flies. The sky at dusk Used to be thick with them. You had to wave both arms Just to keep them away. Now the sun is shining Through the tall windows. The library is a quiet place. Angels and gods huddled In dark unopened books. The great secret lies On some shelf Miss Jones Passes every day on her rounds. Sheโs very tall, so she keeps Her head tipped as if listening. The books are whispering. I hear nothing, but she does.
Connections in Narrative Medicine 