The Waste Land at 100

Reading a literary text in a certain type of physical space can make what was previously unintelligible come to life. Greek tragedies make more sense when you remember ancient theaters were built into sloping hills: The stories of grief and loss emerge against the “wild” backgrounds of sea or mountain valley, large, physical forces of nature that threaten to swallow up fragile, individual humans. Similarly, the rambling city of York was once the stage for the mystery cycle plays. A whole host of troops would follow a circuit through the city, performing their one little scene from sacred history, all the while in the shadow of the cathedral—just as human beings wander throughout history, groping for God. For Andrew Marvell, a formal garden, in which one enjoys that leisurely, time-slowed experience of order and variety, was the physical space most like a poem.