Some time ago, I posted this survey on Writing.Com:

ID: 1577836   (Rated: 13+) Title: Body Image Perception  Description: How do you perceive the human form, male and female? By: Lynn McKenzie

If you haven't already participated, feel free to offer your opinions. You can even do it anonymously, if you're shy.

I was genuinely curious to know what people thought of nude male and female bodies--whether they believed them beautiful or repulsive. My own experience gave me the indication that many more people thought of women as beautiful and men as slightly disgusting, but I personally didn't (and don't) believe that to be true. So I set up the survey to see if people's perception of body image seemed to be affected by their sexual orientation. In my opening summary, I stated:

I am interested in finding out what people think of the naked human figure, both male and female, and whether or not this relates to their sexual orientation. I'm not simply asking whether or not you're attracted to a man or woman; I want to know if you think an idealized figure of a man or a woman is artistically beautiful/handsome or ugly, or neither.

The results I've received so far have been eye-opening in some ways. Here are some statistics:

Far more women have responded than men--12 to 6 so far. I'm unsure as to why, except that women far outnumber men here on WDC. I'd love to hear from more men.

The overwhelming majority of respondents were straight--14. 3 were bisexual, and 1 identified as asexual (unattracted to either sex). No members responded who identified themselves as gay. Again, I'm unsure about the reason for this. If there's anyone out there who identifies as gay, please give my survey a chance--I'd love to hear from you.

Most people found both men and women attractive, but women won easily over men. 9 respondents thought men handsome, whereas 13 of them found women beautiful. This did not surprise me.

Almost no one thought men or women ugly. HOWEVER, men did get 1 vote for ugliness, whereas no one thought women were ugly. Sigh. More on that later.

A surprising number--at least, it surprised me--of people thought men and women were neither beautiful nor ugly. 8 votes for men being neither, 5 for women. I tried to stress that I was looking for the "ideal" form, but a fair number of people, particularly in the case of men, seemed to reject the idea that there could be an ideal form.

Straight women seemed to have no problem in general finding women attractive, but straight men (5 of the 6 men fell into this category) had a much harder time considering men handsome. Only one man of the six found men to be handsome; all but one of the rest found men neither handsome nor ugly. The one "ugly" vote for men came from a straight guy. I actually expected more.

Another surprise, and disappointment for me, was how many women found guys to be neither handsome nor ugly. Seven women of the 12 voted for "handsome". This really opened my eyes to the fact that women aren't really going by looks as much as other things, perhaps.

Of the three bisexual respondents, none found men handsome, and only one thought women beautiful. Interesting.

The respondent who identified as asexual found neither men nor women handsome or ugly. This indicates to me that the sexual response probably is functioning to some extent in our perception.

I don't want to share the comments I got since the respondents might not appreciate it, but I will say that a fair number of people chose not to amplify on their answers. Of the ones who did, they tended to note the differences between men's harder bodies and women's more rounded and softer musculature.

In closing, I just want to throw in my own opinion that both men and women are simply gorgeous. I think people get more easily embarrassed by male nudity than female, perhaps due to their awareness of the penis so plainly visible, denoting men's sexuality to a much greater extent than women's. Still, there is nothing repellent about a naked man in my eyes. The Greeks certainly didn't think so, nor the Renaissance artists. Look at this image and then try to tell me it's not breathtakingly beautiful:

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/David_%28Michelangelo%29

And to give women equal time, this one:

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Venus_of_Urbino

(Unfortunately, that's not the best reproduction out there, but you can find others.)

These images, to me, would encapsulate my "ideal" male and female naked figures. There are others just as wonderful, but people need to open their eyes and not fear the nudity. God made us this way. Celebrate.
 

Should have done it last week, but a classic poem is classic any time of year. Today I'll take a look at one of Edgar Allan Poe's finest works, "The Raven". Although many of us are at least familiar with the croaked chorus of "Nevermore", I doubt many people nowadays really understand the entire poem, or even try to. As an English major, I consider the art of translating poetry into understandable meaning a challenge. Here's to it. My comments are in italics.

*******

The poem's structure is trochaic octometer; eight feet per line. The rhyming structure is AA,B,CC,CB,B,B with the internal rhymes in each line. The "B" rhyme is always "Nevermore".


Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered, weak and weary,
Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore —

"Forgotten lore" indicates something such as the dark arts, which makes us think of spirits in this context, perhaps. If we don't now, we soon will.

While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping,
As of some one gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door.
"'Tis some visiter,"

This is not a typo. Spelling has changed since 1848.

                    I muttered, "tapping at my chamber door —
          Only this and nothing more."

Ah, distinctly I remember it was in the bleak December;

December, of course, is when the days are at their shortest. Traditionally it was associated with dark magic.

And each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor.

If it's not clear (and it wasn't when I first read this poem), Poe's talking about the embers of the fire glowing upon the wood of the floor's planks.

Eagerly I wished the morrow;

"Morning", in other words; the next day--

                    — vainly I had sought to borrow
From my books surcease of sorrow —

He's reading, trying to forget his suffering.

                    sorrow for the lost Lenore —

Poe wrote a couple of other poems mentioning "Lenore". Was it a code word for a woman whom he loved, perhaps?

For the rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore —
          Nameless here for evermore.

The italics on "here" really send a chill down my spine each time I read this.

And the silken, sad, uncertain rustling of each purple curtain

The window curtains, fluttering in the breeze. Purple is a color associated with royalty, and with death.

Thrilled me — filled me with fantastic terrors never felt before;
So that now, to still the beating of my heart, I stood repeating
"'Tis some visiter entreating entrance at my chamber door —
Some late visiter entreating entrance at my chamber door; —
This it is and nothing more."

Haven't we all done that? Said to ourselves, "It's just the radiator" to some strange sound?

Presently my soul grew stronger; hesitating then no longer,
"Sir," said I, "or Madam, truly your forgiveness I implore;
But the fact is I was napping, and so gently you came rapping,
And so faintly you came tapping, tapping at my chamber door,
That I scarce was sure I heard you"—

What he means is that he wasn't sure he heard someone rapping.

                    here I opened wide the door; ——
          Darkness there and nothing more.

If you've seen the famous Halloween Simpsons episode, you remember that Bart asks rhetorically, "You know what would be scarier than nothing? Anything!" I respectfully disagree. This heightens the tension.

Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there wondering, fearing,
Doubting, dreaming dreams no mortal ever dared to dream before;

You may have noticed the alliteration with phrases like "Doubting, dreaming dreams" and "entreating entrance". Some critics don't like it. I think it works well.

But the silence was unbroken, and the stillness gave no token,
And the only word there spoken was the whispered word, "Lenore?"
This I whispered, and an echo murmured back the word, "Lenore!" —
          Merely this and nothing more.

Back into the chamber turning, all my soul within me burning,
Soon again I heard a tapping somewhat louder than before.
"Surely," said I, "surely that is something at my window lattice;
Let me see, then, what thereat is,

What that is there.

                    and this mystery explore —
Let my heart be still a moment and this mystery explore;—
          'Tis the wind and nothing more!"

Open here I flung the shutter, when, with many a flirt and flutter,
In there stepped a stately Raven of the saintly days of yore;
Not the least obeisance

Deferential respect.

          made he; not a minute stopped or stayed he;
But, with mien

Manner.

          of lord or lady, perched above my chamber door —
Perched upon a bust of Pallas

Pallas Athene being the goddess of wisdom.

                    just above my chamber door —
          Perched, and sat, and nothing more.

Then this ebony bird beguiling my sad fancy into smiling,
By the grave and stern decorum of the countenance it wore,

In other words, the Raven is serious, and this makes the narrator smile.

"Though thy crest be shorn and shaven, thou," I said, "art sure no craven,

The bird is not a coward.

Ghastly grim and ancient Raven wandering from the Nightly shore —
Tell me what thy lordly name is on the Night's Plutonian shore!"

Pluto is the god of the Underworld, or death.

                    Quoth the Raven "Nevermore."

Never again; never. Perhaps some of these seem obvious, but believe me, they all add up to a mess of misunderstandings, which is why I'm explaining them each.

Much I marvelled this ungainly fowl to hear discourse so plainly,
Though its answer little meaning — little relevancy bore;
For we cannot help agreeing that no living human being
Ever yet was blessed with seeing bird above his chamber door —
Bird or beast upon the sculptured bust above his chamber door,
          With such name as "Nevermore."

He's amazed that the bird can speak, but he doesn't attach any meaning to its reply. This will soon change.

But the Raven, sitting lonely on the placid bust, spoke only
That one word, as if his soul in that one word he did outpour.
Nothing farther then he uttered — not a feather then he fluttered —
Till I scarcely more than muttered "Other friends have flown before —
On the morrow he will leave me, as my Hopes have flown before."
          Then the bird said "Nevermore."

This is when the narrator begins to believe that the raven is not just croaking without meaning. He interprets this to mean that the bird will never leave him.

Startled at the stillness broken by reply so aptly spoken,
"Doubtless," said I, "what it utters is its only stock and store
Caught from some unhappy master whom unmerciful Disaster
Followed fast and followed faster till his songs one burden bore —
Till the dirges of his Hope that melancholy burden bore
          Of 'Never — nevermore'."

In other words, it means nothing. The bird just learned this word from a previous owner who was so melancholy that "Nevermore" was his constant refrain.

But the Raven still beguiling my sad fancy into smiling,
Straight I wheeled a cushioned seat in front of bird, and bust and door;
Then, upon the velvet sinking, I betook myself to linking
Fancy unto fancy, thinking what this ominous bird of yore —
What this grim, ungainly, ghastly, gaunt, and ominous bird of yore
          Meant in croaking "Nevermore."

He's sitting before the raven, trying to understand what it means.

This I sat engaged in guessing, but no syllable expressing
To the fowl whose fiery eyes now burned into my bosom's core;
This and more I sat divining, with my head at ease reclining
On the cushion's velvet lining that the lamp-light gloated o'er,
But whose velvet-violet lining with the lamp-light gloating o'er,
          She shall press, ah, nevermore!

Once again, his thoughts turn to Lenore and how he misses her.

Then, methought, the air grew denser, perfumed from an unseen censer
Swung by seraphim whose foot-falls tinkled on the tufted floor.

Seraphim are messagers from God, the highest order of angels. They come with the scent of myrrh, perhaps, which again signifies death.

"Wretch," I cried, "thy God hath lent thee — by these angels he hath sent thee
Respite — respite and nepenthe, from thy memories of Lenore;

Nepenthe was a drug to induce forgetfulness. The narrator claims that the angels have sent the raven to give him respite and relief from his memories. "Quaff" is to drink.

Quaff, oh quaff this kind nepenthe and forget this lost Lenore!"
          Quoth the Raven "Nevermore."

"Prophet!" said I, "thing of evil! — prophet still, if bird or devil! —
Whether Tempter sent, or whether tempest tossed thee here ashore,

The Tempter would be the devil; a tempest a storm.

Desolate yet all undaunted, on this desert land enchanted —
On this home by Horror haunted — tell me truly, I implore —
Is there — is there balm in Gilead? — tell me — tell me, I implore!"

The balm of Gilead is mentioned in Jeremiah as a cure for all ills. The narrator's pleading to know if he will ever be healed of his grief.

          Quoth the Raven "Nevermore."

This repetition is deadly and harrowing to read. We want the narrator to find peace, but the raven manifestly denies the possibility.

"Prophet!" said I, "thing of evil! — prophet still, if bird or devil!
By that Heaven that bends above us — by that God we both adore —
Tell this soul with sorrow laden if, within the distant Aidenn,

This seems to refer to the Garden of Eden.

It shall clasp a sainted maiden whom the angels name Lenore —
Clasp a rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore."
          Quoth the Raven "Nevermore."

"Be that word our sign of parting, bird or fiend!" I shrieked, upstarting —
"Get thee back into the tempest and the Night's Plutonian shore!
Leave no black plume as a token of that lie thy soul hath spoken!
Leave my loneliness unbroken! — quit the bust above my door!
Take thy beak from out my heart, and take thy form from off my door!"
          Quoth the Raven "Nevermore."

And the Raven, never flitting, still is sitting, still is sitting
On the pallid bust of Pallas just above my chamber door;
And his eyes have all the seeming of a demon's that is dreaming,
And the lamp-light o'er him streaming throws his shadow on the floor;
And my soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor
          Shall be lifted — nevermore!

To hear James Earl Jones read that last stanza in The Simpsons Halloween Special is truly to hear the full horror of the narrator's fate. To sit beneath the bird's shadow, his soul in agony, thinking of his lost Lenore forever.