I honestly don't know what bought this on, apart from a love of Ukitake and an inherant dislike of Larkin and his miserableness. ^_^
For those of you who might not know, Phillip Larkin was a British poet in the 50's and 60's who's main characteristic was his bleak and unromantic style of writing. Many of his themes included death and the pointlessness of life, as well as other equally jolly themes such as Industrial uglyness v rural beauty and the basic selfishness of humanity (can you tell I don't like him?). Anyway, I'm being made to study him at A level, so I thought I would subject everyone else to him too. ^_^
'Life is slow dying'
Perhaps thirty or forty years ago, he couldn't remember clearly now, Ukitake had become interested in a poet from the real world called Phillip Larkin. He was a bleak, although talented man, and Ukitake had often asked members of his squad to bring back anthologies written by him when they visited the real world.
One poem by Larkin in particular had caught his interest, a sad and hollow poem called 'Nothing To Be Said'. It caught his attention because at first sight it was so full of wisdom and held an understanding of human life possessed by few.
'The day spent hunting pig / Or holding a garden party… / Advance on death equally slowly'
To a man who had spent the majority of his life dying far more obviously than most it struck a chord deep within. It spoke of the futility and pointlessness of life, how in the end, everyone ended up the same. Dead.
But that was where his link with the poem was severed. That was the point where the talented and jaded man's works were put in a drawer somewhere, neatly tucked away for a time when the volumes would be rare and sought after, added to Ukitake's already huge collection of books made up over centuries of careful hoarding.
To a man like Ukitake, who spent every minute of his life fighting death, life was something to be enjoyed. You should throw yourself into pig hunting, laugh and joke at the tea party without thought that perhaps it might be the last day you witness. Love and laugh and enjoy life to its fullest.
Yes. It was true that death claims everyone, indiscriminately, eventually. But, he realised as he sat and laughed and drank with those he had the privilage of calling friends, taking in the vibrant colours, the tastes and sounds and touch of everything around him, Larkin had been wrong.
Life wasn't an unstoppable and inexorable march towards death. Death was the one left creeping and cringing behind life, forced to wait until the time when you were tired of living.
And that, to Ukitake, left nothing to be said.
Reviews are loved, and make a very happy author...unlike Larkin. ^_^