The Making of a Hero

In the chapter titled “The Great Old Hunter” from The Romance of the Faery Melusine, André Lebey creates a symbiotic relationship between humans and nature when describing nature as being “menacing and dangerous” because it is “full of the unknown” (Lebey 11). The dangerous quality of nature then formulates the need for heroes to protect the townsmen who are “huddled for comfort against their wives” as the dangerous creatures lurking in nature infiltrate the village (Lebey 11). By intertwining nature and humanity, the text critiques the idea that humans are separated from nature since the heroic persona and human virtue are built in the context of an environment that forces them to overcome threats and danger.

From the start of the chapter where the great hunter Count Aimery is introduced, Lebey positions the forest and all those who inhabit it as “[…] menacing and dangerous, full of the unknown, concealing the surprising and the supernatural” (11). Before he even truly begins the story of the hunter, the forest is specifically defined as a place where evil lurks. By using words such as “menacing” and “dangerous” to convey the characteristics of this environment, it becomes something for the townsmen to fear and creates a sense of tension within the village. Nature is not characterized as a passive being that simply exists, and instead is given a role as a perilous environment that is able to harbor these “unknown” and “supernatural” beings. The employment of the term “supernatural” also becomes vital since it creates the notion that not only is the village under threat, but it is under increased threat because the forest is essentially beyond the realm of this world. The reader then knows to be wary of this environment because it is being presented as an entity that can cause damage to the village and those who live there, since the actions of nature have an effect on those who live by its borders. Through the utilization of a hostile tone when describing the forest and the individuals that occupy it, the author leaves no doubt that nature is an evil force within the village because of the conflict it has created for them. In turn, when Lebey notes in the subsequent lines that “All along the bushes by the pathways the eyes of the lynxes burned, watching the old women, bowed under kindling” (11), he continues to reinforce this threat of unearthly creatures on the community. Rather than the lynxes watching the old women, Lebey explains that their eyes were “burning” to evoke a sense of mysticism since it feels as if they have a fire behind their eyes that is not normally present within these creatures. The reader is now able to recognize the danger the villagers are in, knowing that these may not be normal creatures since the “burning” eyes of the lynxes are a mark of their “supernatural” qualities. Nature then transforms into the villain in the narrative by being an ever-present danger and frightening those who are merely trying to live their lives in town. It looms over the town as the townspeople are being watched by the “burning” eyes of creatures who call the forest their home.

Further down in the passage, Lebey explains that because of the evil nature of the forest, it is a chance to showcase heroic virtues since “[…] evil reigned only if heroes failed to confront its dangers. It seemed that one existed to give rise to the other, for humans do not show their mettle if left to themselves” (Lebey 12). Through these lines, Lebey takes on a more optimistic view of the forest by claiming that it was created to “give rise” to heroes as a way to protect the community and dominate over evil. He is then cementing the intertwining relationship between humans and the natural world through the idea that they cannot exist on their own. This highlights the idea that human heroics depend on the presence of evil because it forces them to play the role of the hero in order to protect the town and the “townsmen huddled for comfort against their wives” (Lebey 11). The reader then understands that having nature as a threatening force is not an inherently bad thing because it is a critical force in building human character. Without the dangers that the forest presents, there might not be an opportunity for humans to display their superiority, since nature gives them something to fight against due to its evil characteristics. In turn, Lebey essentially points out that it is a good thing that the villagers live so close to danger because they are able to showcase their “mettle” that would otherwise be hidden away. Despite the turmoil and anxiety that the forest brings to the village, it is this exact evil that allows humans to embody the persona of a hero and showcase their excellence that would not present “if left to themselves.”

The interlacing of humans and nature throughout the narrative then serves as an important moment to move away from the idea that they can exist separately, since the heroic identity is founded within the connection between humans and the environment around them. As opposed to thinking that humans form their identities in isolation without any exterior forces, Lebey asks readers to rethink this notion by formulating the idea that it is through this “menacing” and “dangerous” environment that Count Aimery and others are able to reveal their greatness by hunting these dangerous creatures. The same forest that is home to all things “unknown” and “supernatural” can also be the place where virtue and nobility are born. Subsequently, humans may not know the extent of their superiority without the presence of danger threatening their livelihood. The forest becomes integral to humans because, through these experiences with evil and danger, it gives them the space to prove their worthiness.

What is History?

In the poem “The Sea is History” by Derek Walcott, he transforms the sea into a living paradoxical archive, as a space that both conceals and preserves the suppressed histories outside of Western civilization. The Westernized idea of historical thinking of History needing to be physical or tangible is challenged when Walcott asks, “Where are your monuments, your battles, martyrs?” (line 1), and he answers that “in that gray vault, The sea” (line 3). Derek Walcott collapses the divide between natural landscape and historical record, redefining the sea as both a literal and symbolic archive that holds bodies, memories, and traumas erased by colonial violence. Walcott reimagines the sea, restoring silenced Caribbean histories, but also argues to consider what counts as historical evidence, insisting on recognizing how the landscape itself bears witness to the suppressed pasts Western narratives refuse to acknowledge.

The poem begins as an interrogation towards a Eurocentric audience, those who measure civilization by visible signs of achievement and memorialization, such as monuments, wars, and heroes. The first line “where are your monuments, your battles, martyrs?” creates both an ironic and defiant tone, as the speaker exposes the colonial logic that quotes “history” with documentation, or tangible symbols of empire. The question implies that the Caribbean-descended peoples’ historical legitimacy is denied because their past does not conform to those material standards. By asking and answering the question himself, he asserts his authority and establishes that he will define what and where “History” is.

The word “Sirs” contains Irony; it showcases formality, but its placement in the middle of the stanza sharpens the poem’s oppositional stance. The placement of the word implies that the speaker is responding to a condescending inquiry from people who believe in a one-sided, westernized “history,” those who demand evidence. Walcott capitalizing the ‘S’ in “Sirs” gives the word additional weight, standing for a collective historical gaze of authority and condescension. By addressing the “Sirs” directly, he positions himself and his culture as subjects who have been questioned, but now have the voice to answer back.   

The image of the “grey vault. The sea” (line 3) is the first major image depicted within this poem. The “vault” can be both a burial chamber and a secure box, illustrating the sea as a tomb and an archive, a place that both conceals and preserves. The description of the color “grey” evokes neutrality and obscurity, being neither light nor dark, illustrating that what lies within the sea is unknown or unrecorded. Here within this line, the rhythm of the poem comes to a full stop after “vault” and then in short fragments declaring “The sea. The sea” (line 3), creating an echo with weight and finality. This repetition enacts the sea’s vastness and the inescapable truth of its claim over history.

The metaphor of “The sea is History” (line 4) collapses the distinction between history and nature, between written record and lived experience. The sea becomes both a lateral and symbolic archive, where the sea literally holds the bodies of the enslaved Africans during the Middle Passage, and symbolically represents memory, trauma, and the erasure of people’s past by colonial forces. Walcott, calling the sea “History,” overturns Western epistemology; history is no longer the narrative written by victors but the silent depths that remember what was suppressed. 

At the end of the line “The sea. The sea. / has locked them up.” (line 3-4) the rhythm mimics waves, each phrase crashing, receding, and returning. The repetition of “sea” once again reinforces the vastness of the image. The sound of the ‘s’ gives the lines a hushed, whispering quality as though the sea itself is speaking. The rhythm mirrors the poem’s larger movement between silence and speech, between historical records and what it silences.

Ultimately, Walcott’s poem “The Sea is History” dismantles the dominance of Western historical frameworks by insisting that the most profound archives are not found in written records but in the natural world that has borne witness to colonial violence. Through the sea’s paradoxical role as both tomb and testament, Walcott reclaims history long denied, showing that absence is not emptiness, but evidence of lives drowned, submerged, and narratives deliberately erased. By transforming the sea into an alternative archive, Walcott not only restories the Caribbean’s silenced past but also exposes the narrowness of Western historiography itself. This poem demands that the audience expand their understanding of what constitutes history, urging them to listen to the landscapes that carry the weight of collective memory. Walcott ensures that the histories dismissed by empire are neither forgotten nor lost; they are simply waiting, held in the shifting, unending pulse of the sea.

Decolonizing History in “The Water Will Carry Us Home”

In Gabrielle Tesfaye’s “The Water Will Carry Us Home” at timestamp 3:36, her imagery is fluid, featuring floating, womb-like forms with gentle water coloring, both of which create a space of rebirth, continuity, and liberation for a people considered lost to history. This imagery de-centers land as the main source of history on earth and instead portrays the ocean as an ancestral world of transformation (4:30), thus imploring her audience to perceive history from a decolonized point-of-view.

The setting in the given frame isn’t merely a backdrop but a fully lived in, active, and inhabited world. The use of water color dissolves borders and boundaries and creates something more fluid and alive, contrasting that of the static and grounded imagery associated with land. In Western civilization, history is written on and in monuments and borders; it is fixed and owned. Imagery in the short film rejects that, through the frame, ancestry (the figures) is something in motion and situated in memory rather than geography. By turning to water, Tesfaye implores her audience to see from a decolonized point of view. In resisting the idea that home, belonging, and history are anchored to land, one remembers the history of people thrown to the sea. There are people, such as the Igbo people, whose history—usually that of migration—is tied to the ocean. In this case, the ocean is a sort of archive without any edges where spirits go to live, transform, and remember. 

What is most striking in the frame is the curled, womb-like figures. Though these women’s bodies were tossed in the sea with intentions of death, the imagery of the figures suggests a sense of rebirth despite not being on solid ground of earth. These forms are untethered; they float in suspension, emphasizing a weightlessness to a rootedness. Furthermore, many of the figures cradle their wombs; their nurture is literally happening in water, much like how we are born from the water in the womb. The ocean itself becomes a symbol of the womb, a sight of gestation instead of intended destruction from Western colonizers. Western ideology often imagines birth and creation coming from solid ground—Adam from Earth and civilization from soil, for example. Tesfaye shifts this land-centric point of view to that of creation from the sea. This aligns more closely with African mythologies, where water spirits (such as Omambala mentioned in the film) embody life and power. The given frame, specifically, reframes the Ocean as a source giving life rather than devouring it, offering a counter narrative to that of a Westernized history. The Igbo people are depicted as a part of history that lives on instead of lost souls in the sea. 

A few frames later, at timestamp 4:30, we see the floating figures transform into merpeople with a third eye in between their brows. Given research, the Third Eye is significant in Indian cultures to someone’s intuition and trust in a higher power that cannot be seen. Tesfaye uses the Third Eye as a visual assertion that spiritual intuition is as much of a legitimate form of history as written history, especially in a world where African culture and history was neglected and was never documented in the first place. Furthermore, each of the transformed merpeople have a Third Eye depicting this intuitive truth, or knowledge, as being carried in one’s body, community, and spirit. This depiction of these newly transformed beings carrying their knowledge challenges Eurocentric histories where “true” knowledge is found solely in written archives and documentation. Tesfaye’s recentering of African systems that honor spiritual sight as a form of culture and history sequentially restores knowledge erased or suppressed by means of colonization. By reclaiming history from a colonial subjective version, the floating figures/merpeople are not mere objects of violence but are subjects of spiritual and knowledgeable authority.  

The inclusion of mermaids and collage artwork, both in frame 3:36 and 4:30, depicts African diaspora “hybrid” experiences. Tesfaye’s artwork itself is a collage, including the merpeople depicted; the art is assembled piece by piece, containing memories, oral stories, and traditions of African cultures, building and completing a history untold by colonizers. As seen from her official website, Tesfaye herself comes from a multicultural background, descending from a Jamaican and Ethiopian background, and has lived in places such as Thailand and India. Her experience as a Black woman oriented around many cultures, genres, and narratives bleeds into her short film. In turn, her film analyzes eco-critical frameworks from and in relation to African experiences that are “hybrid,” much like herself. By emphasizing merpeople as symbols of hybrid narratives, Tesfaye rejects colonial ideologies that view mixed or hybrid diasporic cultures as being less legitimate to history. 

Tesfaye’s short film invites the audience to rethink how history is written. Reworking history by crossing merfolk narratives with African cultures reclaims history by depicting a different narrative than those, namely from colonial points of view, previously told in Western history. That a terra-centric history is not the only history, just because it is what is commonly taught. The enslaved people who were thrown out to sea have a history, and though it may not be on land, it lives on. “The Water Will Carry Us Home” creates a more rounded and whole version of the past, and asks those watching to recognize the importance of understanding a history beyond Western archives. 

Cavities, Vessels, and the Weight of Memory in The Deep

In chapter one of The Deep Amaba says:

One can only go for so long without asking ‘who am I?’, ‘where do I come from?’, ‘what does all this mean?’, ‘what is being?’, ‘what came before me and what might come after?’. Without answers there is only a hole. A hole where a history should be that takes the shape of an endless longing. We are cavities (Solomon 8).

Solomon uses repetitive anaphoric rhetorical questions—“Who am I? What does this all mean? What is being?” This repetitive structure creates momentum and rhythm creating a feeling of longing and searching in order to emphasize the uncertainty and human need for understanding oneself. Most prominently is the imagery of the “hole” and “cavities.” These words visually create a picture of emptiness and loss due to a past, or in this case history, that has been erased. The “hole where a history should be” is an absence of ancestry, a lost and forgotten origin. The “hole” in this case would be a symbol of a void left from the disconnection from heritage and identity. Amaba’s last words “we are cavities” extends this metaphor of a “hole” in history as a way to describe how trauma and loss quite literally shape people. There isn’t merely just a “hole” in history, the people most impacted by that “hole” become empty and hollow—like a cavity. 

In succession to the first quote Amaba believes that Yetu wouldn’t understand what it’s like due to her being the “historian.” Though Yetu thinks to herself that she “did know what it was like. After all, wasn’t cavity just another word for vessel?” (Solomon 8). The oxford dictionary defined cavity as “an empty space within a solid object, in particular the human body,” and a vessel is described as “a hollow container, especially used to hold liquid, such as a bowl or a cask.” A vessel, in Yetu’s case, is just another sort of cavity. Yetu is a vessel (cavity) made to hold the past and ancestors for the Wajinru people, then when time comes those are scooped out of her and poured into the cavities of her people. And a cavity left untreated, left unfilled, can lead to pain and infection in a person, much like a cavity in one’s tooth. 

Solomon utilizes the imagery of feeling lost, uncertain, and unfulfilled through Amaba and Yetu’s individual, and yet similar, experiences with the absence and “hole” that having their history be forgotten has hurt them. Solomon’s overarching metaphor that solicits their audience to understand the dangers and harm that a loss of history and ancestry causes a person. It leaves them filled with questions and uncertainty, and a hole that is hard to fully fill. 

The Allure of Power

            In Agnieska Smoczynska’s The Lure, the mermaid Silver’s human male love interest Mietek’s refusal to touch her mermaid tail depicts a theme in mermaid lore of men’s desire for women being dependent on the control patriarchy exerts over women, rejecting power and strength in feminine bodies. His sexual rejection forces Silver to choose between keeping her power or his love, making her conform to a human dynamic of patriarchy where he will have power over her, leaving her to be entirely dependent on his affection for survival.

The Lure is a modern mermaid story, taking place in 1980s Poland but filmed in the mid 2010s. It operates in a similar vison of the myths and rules of Hans Christian Anderson’s The Little Mermaid. One exception being that mermaids can change back and forth between their mermaid form into a terrestrial form, which includes legs but not genitalia. This changes the position of the mermaids in The Lure as mermaids have more freedom and strength on land. Elements of Anderson’s tale that remain are gaining human legs and genitalia makes a mermaid lose their voice. Additionally, if the human they love falls in love with someone else the mermaid will turn to sea foam. While some of these elements are considered a superstition by some characters, it does demonstrate that on land there are threats to mermaids’ power. 

The scene of Mietek’s rejection begins with Silver transforming from her sexually restricted terrestrial form to her mermaid form in the bathtub while Mietek watches. Silver makes her sexual desires for him known with a direct statement. As he observes her, his expression changes from tantalization to uneasiness. While she does this in preparation for a sexual encounter, Mietek is confronted with truth of her form that reveals her strength and power, which makes him scared and sexually uninterested.

This is stated in his response to Silver’s sexual advances as he says to her “don’t to be angry, but to me you’ll always be a fish, an animal. I can’t do this, as much as I’d like to,” (33:59). While his declaration of her inadequacy for him is the devastating emotional statement, he begins his rejection with admitting to his fear of her physical power. He tells her to not be angry because he understands her anger could be an actual physical threat to him. Her mermaid otherness is a threat to the terrestrial experience he has been part of where human women are smaller and typically are not as physically strong as Silver. 

It is important to note that this includes Silver in her terrestrial form, she is shorter and more petite than Mietek. It contradicts the experiences he has had with her on land to see her in her mermaid form, revealing how powerful she always is but conceals to participate in terrestrial activities. 

Silver understands their contrasting power dynamic bothers him, that his sexual desire is dependent on him not feeling weaker. To soothe his mindset, she offers him a piece of her power in the form of one of her scales. It is a painful action even for her strong body, she shows the pain in her expression and in the blood that is left behind. She promises him power and talent in his music playing with this scale, which he is eager to accept but before he takes it she asks from him a kiss in trade. With the scale almost in his grasp he carefully maneuvers around touching her tail to give her a chaste kiss on the cheek, before accepting this gift. Like the pain she showed in removing the scale, her disappointment in this offer of power to him is expressed.

He avoids her tail in this scene, not out of physical respect but in an act of supporting his comment that she is not human enough for sexual interest to him. In Silver’s terrestrial form he also avoids any touching below the waist before her surgery, even in physically intimate moments. This causes sexual and emotional frustration for Silver because he participates in a physical relationship with her but reminds her of the inadequacies he sees in her.

In contrast to this relationship’s dynamic there is an additional sexual scene between Silver’s sister Golden with a woman. Unlike Mietek’s avoidance of Silver’s tail, Golden and her female lover invite the presence of Golden’s tail in their sexual experience with each other. With the sexual anatomy of mermaids only being accessible when they are in their mermaid form, Golden does not have the same frustrations as Silver and is not motivated to cobble her power or identity. 

The behavior from Mietek of keeping Silver at a distance and lacking in value to him, he resets the power dynamic between them. She is now in the weaker position within their relationship because he does not consider her to be an equal to him. This mirrors the relationship of the Little Mermaid and the prince in The Little Mermaid. The Little Mermaid was a semi-immortal member of royalty, and the prince made her sleep on a pillow outside his door (Penguin, 124). In the situation Mietek frames for her, in ordered to be loved by this human, she must be a human which means up giving not only her power but her identity. 

Silver begins planning to have her fin replaced with a lower half of a human, which she is warned will make her lose her voice and make the terrestrial world her permanent home. The influence of the terrestrial patriarchal system inclines her to be compliant to the will of her love interest. Her experience on land has made her doubt her own power as she has been met with exploitation and violence, but not directly from Mietek. He has been supportive and has enjoyed the profits of her power in song and in his music. Even so, he only appreciates her power when it benefits him. After her surgery with her voice and powers muted, he loses interest in her when she cannot provide these benefits for him and is now repulsed by her in this powerless form.

With his rejection Silver’s life is now entirely in the power of Mietek. She relinquished her power, voice, and strength to contort and conform to his desires. But his desire was never for her, it was always for the power she had that he did not which he pursued. Now he can dispose of her in a way that he never could when she was a mermaid. He has truly achieved the power he always wanted, to not be scared of a feminine body that wanted and loved him.

Works Cited

Anderson, Hans Christian. “The Little Mermaid”. The Penguin Book of Mermaids, Bacchilega, Cristina, and Marie Alohalani Brown. The Penguin Book of Mermaids. Penguin Books, 2019. 

The Lure. Directed by Agnieska Smoczynska, Janus Films, 2015.

Mother Water and Mother Nature

I really loved the “African Water Spirits In The Caribbean” section of the reading because I love how it could be connected to Gabriella Tesfaye’s “The Water Will Carry Us Home”. The story that Mami Wata “has the power to transform a human into a water spirit by changing the lower half of their body to that of a fish” (273) was almost parallel to the “water spirit” and main mermaid in Tesfaye’s story. The only main difference is that Tesfaye’s water spirit played a special role in preserving African History, and Mami Wata’s role is to protect her waters and forests.

I especially like how “Mother Water” can directly be connected to our(American) version of “Mother Nature”. The myth that there will be consequences to those who mistreat nature, or in this case, “pollutes its waters”. The only main difference is that Mami Wata targets beautiful young women to use as her “assistants” to punish any man who damages her waters. I think this part is very interesting because of the idea that innocent women are believed to be in danger, whereas any man who does wrong will be rightfully punished. This myth has a similar form to the myth of La Llorona, a spirit or ghost whose main purpose is to take souls as a form of protection. The concept of needing a myth to scare people into not polluting or mistreating nature is actually quite sad.

These tales have a greater purpose; although they may seem silly, they serve as a form of protection. They are something greater than us, using beautiful women mixed with serpents, which typically spikes fear, is a great way to pique interest while also causing enough fear for people to truly listen to the main clause here.

Song of the Week: The Last of Her Kind by Peter Gundry (I thought this song was interesting. I especially loved the violin throughout the song. This was something that gave me Siren vibes, but in a non-deadly way. It feels more magical and welcoming, and I liked that, like the Water Spirits from this reading and last week’s!)

Guardian of the Waters

In a brief excerpt from “African Mermaids and Other Water Spirits” included in the Penguin Book of Mermaids, it is illustrated that African mermaids are seen as guardians of the water against industrialization. There had been rumored sightings of constructions in the water, “mermais were blamed for delays in the construction of a reservoir at Mutare, also in Zimbabwe” (166). This rumor suggests that mermaids protect the ocean to prevent industrialization from entering its sacred depths.

To “blame” mermaids for ‘delays’ or ‘stop’ of construction highlights the strength of power they hold over man. The mermaid’s dedication to protecting its waters illustrates an understanding of life on land and the consequences of industrialization. Once again, it highlights how mermaids possess more knowledge than humans. The mermaid possesses the ability not to fear humans. The ‘delay in construction’ showcases humans adjusting to the whims of nature. 

The mermaids were described as “angry spirits” and appeared as “a mermaid and a large snake” (167). As previously noted in other stories, the mermaid, often referred to as ‘half fish,’ is depicted as a serpent, symbolizing protection, transformation, and wisdom. This shows that the mermaid has access to the human world and knowledge about it, revealing her face only when necessary or when threatened. The act of the mermaid only appearing when they are ‘angered’ showcases the mermaid’s knowledge and disagreements with humans trying to invade the waters. 

Humans cannot travel into the water to access the mermaid; only the mermaid can travel to shore and testify to the humans. The power is in the mermaid’s hands, to be seen, not to be seen, known, or not to be known. Meanwhile, the humans are left in the dark, unable to comprehend what they encountered or why. Thus, this portrays the mermaid as the guardian of the ocean, appearing when humans encroach on its territory to protect against their industrial activities.

The Water Will Carry Us Home

In the short film “The Water Will Carry Us Home” The imagery has portrayed a slave ship the video shows. The short film shows us how do people that are depicted in the times of the Atlantic slave trade and the idea of a mermaid as a outside force and people had a belief in them to be their savor from their misery they faced even if it may not be real. The Insights of Tesafayes is the human consciousness is the sole focus of the video.

As the story concluded the interpretation is how people are always being remembered for just being imprisoned on a ship. The religious aspect of the video is a wake up call to let people know that there are people who are forgotten by name or anything they have done in their lives but only to be remembered for that one thing and nothing and the ending shows that pieces of the past physical or mental lives through us as a reminderof that particular historical event.

Discovery 2

In “The Sea Is History” by Derek Walcott, the poet portrays the ocean as an archive of cultural memory by referencing Biblical and historical knowledge, thus revealing how man-made monuments and stories are temporary but can be preserved within the ocean which carries an enduring record of human history.

“Where are your monuments, your battles, martyrs?” Walcott opens with a challenge. He asks where the remnants of man-made creations can be found once they are long gone, to which the reply is, “The sea / has locked them up. The sea is History,” thus establishing the foundation of the poem where the sea is portrayed as a vessel containing historical knowledge and depth. 

Walcott continues by chronologically describing Old Testament books of the Bible. He first describes Genesis, then Exodus, then the Song of Solomon, then Lamentations. By shifting from book to book specifically in chronological order, the work shifts from a mere poem to more of a story with a sequence of events, similar to human history. Walcott is further emphasizing the representation of the ocean as a continuous timeline containing such history and depth. For example, in his representation of Exodus, Walcott writes, “Bone soldered by coral to bone, / mosaics / mantles by the benediction of the shark’s shadow.” This could be referring to the famous Exodus story of Moses delivering the Israelites from slavery in Egypt. In doing so, he parts the Red Sea just in time for the Israelites to safely escape, but the waves come crashing down on the Egyptians in their wake, thus drowning their pursuers. The imagery of coral and bone being soldered together imply a connection between elements of the ocean and the land/humans. In this case, the bones and bodies of the Egyptians lie among the coral and water, forever preserved by the blessing, or “benediction of the shark’s shadow,” in the sea. In Walcott’s representation of the Song of Solomon, a book about marriage and poetic love, he flips the romantic narrative with descriptions of “white cowries clustered like manacles / on the drowned women, / and those were the ivory bracelets / of the Song of Solomon.” The poet’s mention of drowned women chained with manacles could be referring to the slave trade where many slaves died in transportation overseas, once again associating human and ocean elements by comparing cowries to the chains. The typically beautiful and romantic images of “white cowries” and “ivory bracelets” represent bondage, definitely not poetic love, in this poem. By flipping the theme of the Song of Solomon, Walcott is contrasting Biblical stories with historical reality, or idealistic love versus slavery. The ocean preserves the bodies, and therefore real history. The poet thus paints the ocean as not only a mere vessel that preserves stories, but also harsh truth, no matter how buried. After chronologically describing Lamentations, Walcott shifts his poem to the New Testament with the lines, “the spires /  lancing the side of God / as His son set, and that was the New Testament.” Biblically, the New Testament begins with the emergence of Jesus Christ, who was crucified. The imagery of spires piercing the “side of God” is reminiscent of how when Jesus was on the cross, Roman soldiers pierced his side with spears to see if he had died yet. The images of God’s son setting can have a double meaning. It can represent Jesus, the son, dying on the cross, but also the sun literally setting, thus bringing about a new day in history. The thought of development and an unfolding story can also reference how the ocean changes as well, just as much as the land, as the seafloor is constantly shifting and the ocean itself changes with the shifting in orientation of the continents over time. Walcott characterizes these sequence of events as “waves’ progress,” once again connecting the sea to human history and stories. However, with due progress, all waves break eventually, and the poet begins describing the book of Revelations. 

Now describing the last book of the New Testament, the poet writes almost nonsensical lines inclusive of “synod of flies,” “bullfrog bellowing for a vote,” and “caterpillars of judges.” It is clear that Walcott is describing Revelations because the book details a sequence of events that precede the end of history and the world. These include swarms, like of flies, and plagues, like of frogs, as well as increasingly chaotic and disintegrating structures of government and authority. Walcott is providing commentary on human systems where politicians beg for votes and synods can be rotted with corrupt figures, while associating humans with nature closely and relevantly, which is consistent with Revelation’s prophecies. Walcott also describes how these events only happened after “each rock broke into its own nation,” insinuating the beginning of a new chapter of history, however chaotic. Thus, the ending line of “History, really beginning,” has a double meaning. The creation of new nations insinuates the beginning of new histories and stories, however the descriptions of Revelations and the end of the world insinuates a conclusion to history. This conflict can be explained by the line, “with their sea pools, there was the sound / like a rumour without any echo.” The sea is denouncing the prophecies of Revelations as nothing more than a rumour with no actual impact, which again is Walcott painting the ocean as holding the truth. What was Biblically and traditionally perceived as the end of history is actually the beginning, hence “History, really beginning.”

Ultimately, “The Sea is History” by Derek Walcott uses heavy Biblical allusions and connections between humans and nature in order to further the purpose of depicting the ocean as a vessel preserving truth and history. 

Managing Behavior, Not Nature 


Environmental problems are often treated as issues that can be solved with new technology or better policies. Governments create climate plans, engineers design renewable energy systems, and scientists collect data to understand change. Yet even with all this knowledge, progress remains slow. In “The Emergence of the Environmental Humanities”, Emmett and Nye argue that the problem is not what we know about the environment, but how we act on that knowledge. When humans talk about “managing” the environment, the word usually means control. Having control in this sense means having something humans can plan, regulate and fix. However after reading this text, Emmet and Nye turn the attention away from managing nature itself and toward managing the systems of ideas and actions that shape how people live within it. Emmett and Nye redefine environmental “management” as the management of human action; through the claim that “we do not manage the environment, only the behaviors that affect its structure and processes,” the text shifts action from ecosystems to culture, arguing that environmental failure is a problem of values, behaviors and institutions. 

 This statement gets rid of the idea that people can control nature as if it is something that’s separate and reframes the idea that if we want to see change it must be as a collective whole. The language reveals exactly how they reframe the idea of environmental control. The sentence begins with “We do not manage the environment”. This phrase challenges the cultural assumption that ecosystems can be organized and controlled like human systems. The word “manage” usually implies authority and predictability, as if nature is an object that can be adjusted or improved. By denying that we can “manage the environment” it means that we must shift our responsibilities from controlling ecosystems to understanding ourselves. We as humans are able to control our behaviors, consumption and culture that can shape our environmental outcomes.

The language in the next part of the phrase, “only the behaviors that affect…” brings the focus from the external world to human action. The word “only” is super restrictive and it draws a line around what can actually be changed meaning what is manageable. Emmet and Nye suggest that it’s not the planet itself but the social, political, and cultural forces that shape it. The word “behaviors” stands for patterns of consumption, policy decisions and different social norms. This phrasing reframes environmental work as an ethical and cultural practice rather than a technical one and to see sustainability not as a matter of better machines but as a matter of better habits. Finally, the phrase ends with “… structure and processes” and this reintroduces the scientific side. It describes the natural systems such as climate and ecosystems that have a response with human activity. Emmet and Nye’s language shows how the environmental humanities work alongside science. Science teaches us how the environmental systems function, while the humanities interpret and influence the behaviors that determine whether those systems thrive or collapse. This pairing of human behavior and environmental systems shows that the two are inseparable. The phrase “structure and processes” sounds scientific, but when placed after “behaviors,” it reminds us that every scientific system reflects human influence. This is exactly what the environmental humanities seeks to prove and that is that no ecosystem is isolated from our culture.

This shift from control to behavior is clearly shown in this reading with the examples of failed top-down projects such as the eco-city near Shanghai and the Huangbaiyu “ecovillage. Both cities were designed with advanced technology and good intentions, yet neither one was successful because the planners ignored the local voices. The designs overlooked what daily life looked like. They ignored farmers’ routines, affordability and cultural ideas. These cities revealed that sustainability cannot be imposed on anyone and instead it depends on understanding how people live and what they value. This reflects the quote and how technical process means very little if human behavior, trust and participation are not a part of the plan. 

Throughout the reading, Emmet and Nye state that knowledge alone is never enough. They cite Tom Griffiths, who said that “Scientists often argue for the need to overcome deficits of knowledge, but rarely ask why we do not act upon what we already know. Most of the constraints working against environmental change are cultural.” This reinforces Emmett and Nye’s claim that the greatest barriers to sustainability are not technical but human. It connects directly to the quote by showing that knowing how ecosystems work does little unless people change their behaviors, policies, and sense of responsibility. By turning the focus to behavior it emphasizes the role of meaning, ethics and communication which is the core of humanities. In the end, the quote “We do not manage the environment, only the behaviors that affect its structure and processes” becomes more than a simple observation. It’s a redefinition of responsibility. It forced me to stop looking at nature as an object and start recognizing the connection between human actions and environmental change. It also teaches readers that addressing climate change or extinction is not about controlling nature but about transforming our culture.