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\centerline{\largest A Discussion of Sharon Olds's}
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\centerline{\largest //The Chute//}
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\centerline{\large Andrew Marc Greene}
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\centerline{for 21.760}
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\centerline{Due 28 November 1990}
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//The Chute// by Sharon Olds remembers an event from her
childhood.  It relies heavily on analogy to conjure up its
images.  Although these images are powerful, they remain static
and fail to engage the reader.

Olds's similes are as mundane as ``like a well with a lid on
it,'' and as vivid as ``like a vein and a nerve.''  She uses an
effusion of similes to describe being lowered into the chute:
``like a / bottle brush inside a bottle, or the / way they drown
people, he'd lower us down as if / dipping us into the darkness
before birth.''  These three images move from an inanimate
object, through a scene of death, to one of birth.

The line ``way they drown people, he'd lower us down as if''
gains additional impact from its sound devices.  The ``way they''
is a strophic internal rhyme. ``Drown'' and ``down'' not only rhyme
but differ by merely a single letter; they are also spelled
similarly to ``lower.''  The following line continues the ``d''
sound, with ``dipping'' and ``darkness.''  

Sometimes Olds's figures of speech are occupational.  The father
is first compared metaphorically to ``a / surgeon running his
eyes over the tray,'' selecting a child as though scanning a
selection of scalpels.  This white-collar image is soon
contrasted with ``his grip on your ankles like the steel he
sold.'' 

Olds is also careful in her choice of individual words.
Referring to the sound made by the falling laundry, she writes
that ``in the / kitchen you'd hear that whisk of pure /
descent.''  The word ``whisk'' here serves a triple meaning: it
is onomatopoeic, it is a near-rhyme to ``kitchen,'' and it
reinforces the kitchen image by alluding to a wire whisk.

Another case where her word choice is effective is the ``twisted
wicker / basket,'' in which the repeated ``wi'' sound conjures
a stronger image.  This is also one of the few (in my opinion)
effective line breaks in the poem, since it seems to make the
wicker alive and (by the preceding ``twisted'') evil.

In general, however, I found the line breaks in this poem to lack
strength.  There are certainly exceptions, such as ``We hung
there in the dark / and yet, you know, he never dropped us.''
Most of the breaks, however, neither emphasize nor hide words.

While the subject of the poet's narrative is chilling, and her
diction often evocative, this poem fails to be compelling, at
least to this reader.  It lacks a driving structure, temporary
rhythms, and propelling line breaks.  Rather than being numb with
the dread that this event ought to have inspired, I am left numb
by a flow of words and images that are neither restrained nor
unrestrainable.

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