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Classic and Contemporary Poetry: Explained | |||
Gary Snyder’s "Working on the '58 Willys Pickup" is a meditation on labor, learning, and the convergence of intellectual and physical work. The poem juxtaposes Snyder’s early years as a scholar of Buddhist texts and classical languages with his later life as a homesteader, someone engaged in the deeply practical work of maintaining a truck, improving a garden, and hauling materials. In this contrast, Snyder does not suggest that one mode of learning is superior to the other, but rather that both scholarship and hands-on labor form a continuous, deeply fulfilling engagement with the world. The poem begins with a moment of retrospection: "The year this truck was made / I sat in early morning darkness / Chanting sutra in Kyoto, / And spent the days studying Chinese." The specificity of "early morning darkness" conveys a sense of discipline, evoking a time of deep meditative practice. Snyder recalls not just the study of Buddhist philosophy but also the languages through which that knowledge was transmitted—"Chinese, Japanese, Sanskrit, French." The phrase "Joys of Dharma-scholarship / And the splendid old temples" captures the intellectual and spiritual excitement of that period in his life. However, he adds a humorous acknowledgment: "But learned nothing of trucks." This line signals a shift in the poem’s focus, as Snyder moves from the abstract world of scholarship to the tangible, mechanical reality of working on a decades-old vehicle. The second half of the poem unfolds with an immersion in physical labor, emphasizing the truck’s role in sustaining a homestead. Snyder describes his practical tasks with the same precision he once applied to textual study. He is "bringing sawdust / Rotten and rich / From a sawmill abandoned when I was just born / Lost in the young fir and cedar / At Bloody Run Creek." The imagery here suggests not only the cycles of nature reclaiming human industry but also Snyder’s place within those cycles. The sawdust, now decayed into something fertile, will be used to "break and temper" the clay in his garden, while gravel from the "old placer diggings" will be screened and mixed. The careful repurposing of natural and industrial materials underscores Snyder’s ethos of sustainability and self-reliance. The moment of lying under the truck—*"dusty and broken bush / Under the pickup / Already thought to be old"—becomes an act of admiration rather than frustration. He finds beauty in its "solidness, square lines," and unexpectedly connects it to a historical figure: "Thinking a truck like this would please Chairman Mao." The reference to Mao is both ironic and insightful. Mao, often associated with revolutionary industrialization and pragmatic, utilitarian aesthetics, might indeed approve of the truck’s durability and simplicity. The thought reflects Snyder’s tendency to draw surprising connections between Eastern political history and his own rural, countercultural lifestyle. The poem’s final section details the process of repairing the truck—"The rear end rebuilt and put back / With new spider gears, / Brake cylinders cleaned, the brake drums / New-turned and new brake shoes." The mechanical terminology, delivered with the precision of a sutra, reflects the same meticulous attention he once devoted to ancient texts. Crucially, he acknowledges that this knowledge, like his scholarship, was passed down to him: "Taught how to do this / By friends who themselves spent / Youth with the Classics." This line reinforces the idea that all learning—whether philosophical or mechanical—comes through lineage and apprenticeship. Just as Snyder once studied under Buddhist teachers, he now learns from those skilled in the practical arts of truck maintenance. The closing lines return to the garden, drawing a connection between intellectual and physical cultivation: "The garden gets better, I / Laugh in the evening / To pick up Chinese / And read about farming." There is no dichotomy here—scholarship and labor coexist, each enriching the other. The act of "fixing the truck and locking eyebrows / With tough-handed men of the past" suggests a deep, almost mythical connection to those who have worked the land and shaped their tools before him. The phrase "locking eyebrows" evokes both camaraderie and an acknowledgment of shared struggles across time. "Working on the '58 Willys Pickup" is ultimately a poem about integration—the merging of scholarly knowledge with practical skills, the blending of past and present, the recognition that wisdom comes from many sources. Snyder refuses to privilege one kind of labor over another; instead, he honors both intellectual and manual work as vital to a full, engaged life. The poem affirms that true learning is not confined to books or temples but is equally present in grease-stained hands, rebuilt engines, and a well-tended garden.
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