Summary
Stanza 1: The title of this poem sets the stage with rich anticipation. We expect an ode to the radio, a sentimental journey that evokes its impact on the speaker. Yet, it delivers much more. Lamont Cranston, the alter ego of the enigmatic Shadow, a crime fighter shrouded in mystery and laughter, steps into the spotlight. The Shadow captivated audiences through countless pulp novels and a beloved radio series during the 1930s and 1940s. The speaker nudges us to ponder how an icon from pop culture can embody the divine. With a touch of irony, he distances himself from other radio listeners, deeming stations like WCBS and artists such as Kate Smith "unattractive." By aligning his taste with Jack Kerouac, a prominent Beat author known for his vivid depictions of jazz, blues, and the raw heartbeat of American counterculture in works like On the Road, Dharma Bums, and The Subterraneans, the speaker exudes a smug, almost superior tone as he groups the reader with "the rest of you."
Stanza 2: This stanza mirrors the first with a rhetorical question that draws us in. The speaker suggests an absence of words, underscored by a clever twist on Lord Alfred Tennyson's famous lines from "In Memoriam": "Tis better to have loved and lost, / Than never to have loved at all." This non-sequitur exemplifies the Beat ethos, finding sacredness in the mundane. His seemingly absurd references to linoleum and living rooms highlight the superficiality of middle-class sensibilities.
Stanza 3: Continuing in a light-hearted vein, Baraka opens with another question, hinting at his playful skepticism. He makes it clear he is no wise sage, yet he also casts doubt on public figures who claim such status. Mandrake, a comic strip magician from the 1940s and 1950s, and Oral Roberts, an evangelist known for his radio and TV fundraising, become symbols in his critique.
Bishop Fulton J. Sheen, the pioneering voice from Radio City, known for his religious broadcasts such as "The Catholic Hour" on NBC, is juxtaposed with Hitler, the infamous architect of genocide during World War II. Baraka's phrase "gaschamber satori" drips with irony, challenging how we perceive morality, where evil masquerades as good, and vice versa. In Zen Buddhism, "satori" reflects a profound spiritual awakening, a concept embraced by some Beats.
Stanza 4: Here, the speaker lays bare what was only hinted at before: Good and evil, love and hate are intertwined in a dialectical dance. The speaker suggests that attempting to fathom love is an exercise in futility, beyond even a poet's grasp.
Stanza 5: These lines reminisce about the radio shows that enchanted the speaker's childhood. Red Lantern, a whimsical fish from Land of the Lost, led children on underwater quests for lost treasures. Meanwhile, Let's Pretend brought the Grimm's fairy tales to life over the airwaves. The speaker draws a parallel between his youthful imagination, fed by these shows, and his creative work as a poet, who also "pretends."
Stanza 6: Revisiting the Shadow from the poem's beginning, the speaker alludes to the Shadow's invisible prowess, a symbolic "transformation." This echoes the religious miracle of transubstantiation, where bread and wine become Christ's body and blood. By describing the Shadow through his "unbelievers"—those who would cast stones—Baraka imbues him with an almost spiritual aura, highlighted by his insight into men's hearts.
Stanza 7: The poem concludes with a rhythmic and whimsical cadence, its rhyme "does/love" leaving an airy, contemplative finish. Baraka uses radio nostalgia as a springboard to explore a grander theme: the intrinsic duality of the world and human nature.
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