Codicil by Derek Walcott
"Codicil" is an autobiographical poem by Derek Walcott, found in his 1965 collection *The Castaway, and Other Poems*. The poem consists of thirty lines presented in varied stanzaic forms and delves into themes of identity, mortality, and the complexities of language. The title "Codicil," which refers to an addendum to a will, suggests an awareness of life's impermanence, prompting reflection on the poet's existence and creative struggles. The tone oscillates between anger and exhaustion, echoing earlier works that grappled with the tensions of colonial identity and self-expression.
Walcott explores the challenges faced by writers, particularly the divide between commercial prose and artistic integrity, illustrating a sense of exile from both poetry and his Caribbean roots. A pivotal line in the poem asserts that changing one's language necessitates a transformation in life, positing that language shapes reality. Through vivid imagery, Walcott articulates feelings of frustration about national identity and the corruption he perceives, transitioning from outward critique to a deeply personal self-reflection. Ultimately, the poem conveys a complex emotional landscape, where the poet's rage culminates in a poignant sense of indifference, encapsulated in the concluding line that juxtaposes indifference with a different form of rage.
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Codicil by Derek Walcott
Excerpted from an article in Magill’s Survey of World Literature, Revised Edition
First published: 1965 (collected in The Castaway, and Other Poems, 1965)
Type of work: Poem
The Work
“Codicil,” which appeared in his 1965 collection The Castaway, and Other Poems, is an autobiographical poem of thirty lines composed in varied stanzaic forms. The poem is a meditation on identity. Its title, referring to an addendum to a will, implies an awareness of mortality; thus, the poet takes account of himself. The poem’s tone is both angry, reflecting some of his earlier work, such as “A Far Cry from Africa,” and exhausted or dispirited, forecasting the mood of many of his poems in The Fortunate Traveller and The Arkansas Testament. Walcott was a journalist during the early 1960’s, and this poem reflects the sense of frustration that most writers feel when faced with dividing their language into two styles, “one a hack’s hired prose, I earn/ my exile.” The poet’s exile is his exile from poetry. Later, this exile will become a self-imposed exile from the Caribbean.
The poet is weary, exhausted by the world’s cares and demands, as well as his past failures. The poet states in the seventh line that, “To change your language you must change your life.” The most significant line of the poem, this line serves to challenge his position and to reveal the direct relationship between one’s language and the quality of one’s life. The growth of a poet’s voice demands a continual change and self-examination of one’s language and life. The line implies that one constitutes his or her world through language: Language defines reality.
The poem continues with images of inescapability—“Waves tire of horizon and return”—and physical decay. On this moonlit beach in Tobago, the poet considers that once he thought love for the country was enough. The country is both nation and poetry; in each case, the poet sees nepotism and corruption. Walcott argues that writers, like colonial clerks, “root like dogs/ for scraps of favor” from the masters, particularly the European hierarchy.
The poem shifts from this outwardly directed anger and social critique to a self-critique. Middle-aged and self-critical, the poet literally enacts “Peer Gynt’s riddle,” where, in Henrik Ibsen’s play Peer Gynt (pb. 1867, pr. 1876; English translation, 1892), Gynt likens the layers of an onion to his own character and finds nothing at the core. The poet scornfully admits that the “hack’s hired prose” has dulled him and that “At heart there’s nothing.” The world’s familiarity has inured the poet to violence. Although the flesh or the body is on fire with anger, the poet no longer fears “that furnace mouth of earth” or “that kiln or ashpit of the sun” or the passage of time, “clouding, unclouding sickle moon.” Although consumed by rage, directed both inwardly and toward the political world, this rage is expressed by indifference. The final line, “All its indifference is a different rage,” suggests nihilism. The only other line that is set apart like this final line, however, formulates the means of change: “To change your language you must change your life.”
Bibliography
Baugh, Edward. Derek Walcott: Memory as Vision. London: Longman, 1978.
Breslin, Paul. “’I Met History Once, but He Ain’t Recognize Me’: The Poetry of Derek Walcott.” TriQuarterly 68 (Winter, 1987): 168-183.
Brodsky, Joseph. “The Sound of the Tide.” In Less than One: Selected Essays. New York: Farrar, Straus and Giroux, 1986.
Hamner, Robert D. Derek Walcott. Boston: Twayne, 1981.
Hamner, Robert D., ed. Critical Perspectives on Derek Walcott. Washington, D.C.: Three Continents Press, 1993.
Jay, Paul. “Fated to Unoriginality: The Politics of Mimicry in Derek Walcott’s Omeros.” Callaloo 29, no. 2 (2006): 545-559.
McCorkle, James. “Re-Mapping the New World: The Recent Poetry of Derek Walcott.” Ariel: A Review of International English Literature 17 (April, 1986): 3-14.
Mason, David. “Derek Walcott: Poet of the New World.” Literary Review: An International Journal of Contemporary Writing 29 (Spring, 1986): 269-275.