I never really "got" poetry. It always seemed to me that whatever it was the poet was trying to say, he or she could have said it more efficiently and much more effectively in prose. Oh, I know that reading poetry is supposed to be a constructive process, one in which the meaning you extract is largely what you put in. Sort of a demi-Rorschach. Still, I never got it, and never got much out of it. Never got much of a thrill looking at inkblots, either.
But as I eagerly await the arrival of Risk Analysis: A Quantitative Guide, 2nd Edition (David Vose), it's got my mind awandrin'. And I think I may experience something similar to what some people experience reading poetry by reading statistics.
It's a sense of puzzling out the deeper meaning, and of finding something in it that, while maybe not exactly what the writer intended, is useful and meaningful (and often surprising and wonderful) to me. And I wonder, if I were a real statistician, instead of a lover of statistics, would it be like reading a recipe?
I know there are some poetry lovers (and poets) who read this blog. Can any of you tell me... is that what it's like?
Should arrive tomorrow. I can't wait.
Kipling: McAndrew’s Hymn
36 minutes ago