The Prophecy of The Waste Land.

This - long-chewing Eliot, consolidated Eliot, powerfully and ponderously integrated Eliot, extending his personality over the young poet - was not the Eliot who wrote The Waste Land. Hyper-civilized as he was, and dressed with bleak propriety for his day job at Lloyds Bank, Eliot on the brink of The Waste Land was nonetheless a shaman, a real one, and to manifest the dire spiritual condition of the tribe, he had to undergo - in his buttoned-up way - the regulation shamanic dismembering. "Complimenti, you bitch", Pound wrote to Eliot after reading the revised poem. Returning to London via Paris in January, he gave (as he later wrote) "the manuscript of a sprawling chaotic poem called The Waste Land" to his fellow reality-shifter and most ardent advocate: the flame-haired American nutter-prodigy Ezra Pound. [Extracted from the article]