Telmo Rodrigues
Maria S. Mendes
Reading, and thinking about, a poem is often a process of entertainment, much as Sherlock Holmes explains it in “The Red-Headed League”, describing the case he has just solved: “‘It saved me from ennui,’ he answered, yawning. ‘Alas! I already feel it closing in upon me. My life is spent in one long effort to escape from the commonplaces of existence. These little problems help me to do so.’” Mostly this description fits the activity, and I would happily concede to it, were it not for its underlying problem: it treats poems as puzzles, as riddles, which, once solved, have no other interest or serve no other purpose. This is obviously a faulty analogy between criminal cases and poems.
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