April 26, 2010 2:58:10 AM GMT-04:00, I wrote:
You might like to go back and read the entire canto with this question in mind:For each metaphor how decipherable is it?
And now a silent liner docks, and now
Sunglassers tour Beirut, and now I plough
Old Zembla’s fields where my gray stubble grows,
And slaves make hay between my mouth and nose.
The disjointed thoughts, which begin right from the start of the canto, the looseness of metaphor throughout, the obsession with the act of shaving, and the litany of hates, some of which seem odd, all point to the notion that Shade is truly loosing his grip on reality; and perhaps his sense of identity!
This passage is awkward and difficult to deconstruct. Even though parts of its meaning are decipherable, what one comes up with is of relatively little importance.
The looseness of the metaphors and their lack of significance are indicative of Shade's mental unraveling.
a silent liner docks:
Shade is shaving in his bath, with his shaving mirror set right before his face. Shade sees, close-up, the broad flat flesh of cheek and jowl floating above the waterline reflected in the mirror and is reminded of the broad side of an ocean liner. Obviously sunglassers refers to tourist, as has been pointed out. Why Beirut I don't know.
Why Old Zembla's fields are mentioned here also is difficult to decipher. It's probably to be read as a sign of Kinbote's coming emergence.
And slaves make hay between my mouth and nose.
Hay is made when grass or other plants, such as clover or alfalfa, are cut and dried for fodder. The word Slaves presumably refers to hair follicles that metaphorically grow the grass; technically, splitting hairs I guess you could say, it is the razor that makes the hay. So Shade is sloppy here too.
–GSL