the rime of the ancient mariner by samuel taylor coleridge

“People know parts of it without necessarily knowing where those parts come from.” Hoare, with Angela Cockayne and Sarah Chapman, is a co-curator of the Big Read, which was commissioned by the University of Plymouth. “The ‘Rime’ is one of those texts,” the writer and the lecturer Philip Hoare told me over Zoom. It just happens to have dropped with eerie appropriateness right into our thirsty and atomized pandemical condition: people, people everywhere, nor anyone you can hug.

Lovingly curated, exquisitely produced, the “Ancient Mariner” Big Read was three years in the making. What a species! Still vibrating from an astonishing remote show by the Norwegian punk-metallers Kvelertak, live-streamed on April 10 from some Scandinavian hangar, I took this “Rime” at first for a similarly inspired and rapidly pulled-together lockdown response. An online read-through of the “Rime,” in 40 free daily installments, with accompanying visuals, by 40 different readers and artists? Well done, humans. When the “ Ancient Mariner” Big Read began streaming on April 18, inaugurated with some superb croaking from Jeremy Irons, I whooped in celebration. He went to sea, he saw a beautiful bird, and then-like Meursault in Albert Camus’s The Stranger, because he could, because it was there-“With my cross-bow / I shot the ALBATROSS.” Cue the nightmare. And the ancient mariner (for it is he) has no choice either: He is condemned to tell his tale, to recite his rhyme, over and over again. No choice: He must hear this person’s story. On his way to a wedding, at the very door of the banquet hall, a man is buttonholed by a haggard and compelling stranger. Six hundred and twenty-six lines of customized Coleridgean English, a strange and wildly flexible hybrid idiom in which the long strains of the King James Bible are looped around a kind of loping, hacked-off folk doggerel, the “Rime” is … What is it? The last epic. You might say further: It’s the dream-poem of right now. Samuel Taylor Coleridge’s “The Rime of the Ancient Mariner,” first published in 1798, is-you might say-the archetypal archetypal journey. To be at sea, mid-story storm-threatened or becalmed to be adrift, disoriented, at the mercy of incomprehensibly avenging forces that somehow (and you know this, you know this) contain the secret of who you are … We’ve got a poem for that. If such a character exists in the coronavirus story, it is not an individual, but the entire modern world.” Wrapping up one of his recent panoramically authoritative surveys of our altered landscape, inner and outer, my Atlantic colleague Ed Yong put it like this: “In the classic hero’s journey-the archetypal plot structure of myths and movies-the protagonist reluctantly departs from normal life, enters the unknown, endures successive trials, and eventually returns home, having been transformed.

The rime of the ancient mariner by samuel taylor coleridge