When you are ready, post your reaction to the poem by identifying the literary elements and critical approaches you read and explain how this information either supported or challenged your personal close reading of the poem. This activity brings together everything you have learned about poetry. Begin by completing the following: Closely read Elizabeth Bishop’s poem “The Fish” Elizabeth Bishop, “The Fish” [Video File] [04 min 24 sec] Review the in-depth analysis of the Elizabeth Bishop’s “The Fish” at the Bedford St. Martin’s site. Read three of the literary elements as applied to the poem (click the tab for Elements of Poetry) Read two of the literary analyses of the poem (click the Critical Approaches Tab). Check below ________________________________________ When you are ready, post your reaction to the poem by identifying the literary elements and critical approaches you read and explain how this information either supported or challenged your personal close reading of the poem. 1. The Fish Eli z a b e t h B i s h o p, 1 9 1 1 – 1 9 7 9 I caught a tremendous fish and held him beside the boat half out of water, with my hook fast in a corner of his mouth. He didn’t fight. He hadn’t fought at all. He hung a grunting weight, battered and venerable and homely. Here and there his brown skin hung in strips like ancient wallpaper, and its pattern of darker brown was like wallpaper: shapes like full-blown roses stained and lost through age. He was speckled with barnacles, fine rosettes of lime, and infested with tiny white sea-lice, and underneath two or three rags of green weed hung down. While his gills were breathing in the terrible oxygen —the frightening gills, fresh and crisp with blood, that can cut so badly— I thought of the coarse white fles h p a c k e d i n li k e f e a t h e r s, the big bones and the li t tle b o n e s, the dramatic reds and blacks of his shiny entrails, and the pink swim-bladder like a big peony. I looked into his eyes which were far larger than mine but shallower, and yellowed, the irises backed and packed w i t h t a r n i s h e d t i n f o il seen through the lens e s o f old s c r a t c h e d i s i n gla s s . T h e y s h i f t e d a li t tle, b u t n o t t o r e t u r n m y s t a r e . —It w a s m o r e li k e t h e t i p p i n g o f a n o b j e c t t o w a r d t h e li g h t . I admired his sullen face, the mechanism of his jaw, and then I saw that from his lower lip —if you could call it a lip— grim, wet, and weaponlike, hung five old pieces of fish-lin e, or four and a wire leader with the swivel still attached, with all their five big hooks grown firmly in his mouth. A green line, frayed at the end where he broke it, two heavier li n e s, and a fine black thread still crimped from the strain and sna p w h e n i t b r o k e a n d h e g o t a w a y . L i k e m e d als w i t h t h e i r r i b b o n s f r a y e d a n d w a v e r i n g, a five-haired beard of w i s d o m t r a ili n g f r o m h i s a c h i n g j a w . I stared and stared and victory filled up the little rented boat, from the pool of bilge where oil had spread a rainb o w a r o u n d t h e r u s t e d e n g i n e t o t h e b a ile r r u s t e d o r a n g e, the sun-cracked thwarts, the oarlocks on their strings, the gunnels—until everythin g w a s r a i n b o w, r a i n b o w, r a i n b o w ! A n d I le t t h e f i s h g o . 2 . 1234567891 0 1 1 1 2 1 3 1 4 1 5 1 6 1 7 1 8 1 9 2 0 2 1 2 2 2 3 2 4 2 5 2 6 2 7 2 8 2 9 3 0 3 0 3 2 3 3 3 4  3 5 3 5 3 7 3 8 3 9 4 0 4 0 4 2 4 3 4 4 4 5 4 5 4 7 4 8 4 9 5 0 5 0 5 2 5 3 5 4 5 5 5 5 5 7 5 8 5 9 6 0 6 0 6 2 6 3 6 4 6 5 6 5 6 7 6 8 6 9 7 0 7 0 7 2 7 3 7 4 7 5 7 5 7 7 I c a u g h t a t r e m e n d o u s f i s h a n d h eld h i m b e s i d e t h e b o a t h alf o u t o f w a t e r, w i t h m y h o o k f a s t i n a c o r n e r o f i t s m o u t h . H e d i d n’t f i g h t . H e h a d n’t f o u g h t a t all. H e h u n g a g r u n t i n g w e i g h t, battered and venerable and homely. Here and there his brown skin hung in strips like ancient wallpaper, and its pattern of darker bro w n w a s li k e w allp a p e r : s h a p e s li k e f ullblo w n r o s e s s t a i n e d a n d lo s t t h r o u g h a g e . H e w a s s p e c kle d w i t h b a r n a cle s, fine rosettes of lime, and infested with tiny white sea-lice, and underneath two or three rags of green weed hung down. While his gills were breathing in the terrible oxygen — the frightening gills, fresh and crisp with blood, that can cut so badly — I thought of the coarse white fles h p a c k e d i n li k e f e a t h e r s, the big bones and the li t tle b o n e s, the dramatic reds and blacks of his shiny entrails, and the pink swim-bladder like a big peony. I looked into his eyes  w h i c h w e r e f a r la r g e r t h a n m i n e b u t s h allo w e r, a n d y ello w e d, the irises backed and packed with tarnished tinfoil seen through the lenses of old scratched isinglass. They shifted a little, but not to return my stare. — It was more like the tipping of an object toward the light. I admired his sullen face, the mechanism of his jaw, and then I saw that from his lower lip — if you could call it a lip — grim, wet, and weaponlike, hung five old pieces of fish-lin e, or four and a wire leader with the swivel still attached, with all their five big hooks grown firmly in his mouth. A green line, frayed at the end where he broke it, two heavier li n e s, and a fine black thread still crimped from the strain and sna p w h e n i t b r o k e a n d h e g o t a w a y . L i k e m e d als w i t h t h e i r r i b b o n s f r a y e d a n d w a v e r i n g, a five-haired beard of w i s d o m t r a ili n g f r o m h i s a c h i n g j a w . I stared and stared and victory filled up the little rented boat, from the pool of bilge where oil had spread a rainb o w a r o u n d t h e r u s t e d e n g i n e t o t h e b a ile r r u s t e d o r a n g e, the sun-cracked thwarts,the oarlocks on their strings, the gunnels — until everything was rainbow, rainbow, rainbow! And I let the fish go. about the poet Elizabeth Bishop (1911-1979) was born in Worcester, Massachusetts. Her father died before she was a year old; four years later, when her mother suffered a mental breakdown, Bishop was taken…(more) Exploring the patterns created by the formal elements of a poem alliteration — image, tone, and metaphor, for example helps us to understand more deeply the poem’s meaning and the nuances that enrich that meaning. This kind of formal close reading of the poem’s text is fundamental to any analysis of poetry. To examine what roles various literary elements play in “The Fish,” click on one of the following choices. Interactive questions follow each analysis. >Assonance >Denotation and Connotation >Diction >Image >Irony >Simile >Symbol >Tone For a demonstration of how you might pull together analyses of the elements of poetry in “The Fish,” see our sample essay (PDF). “The Fish” from THE COMPLETE POEMS, 1927-1979 by Elizabeth Bishop. Copyright 1979, 1983 by Alice Helen Methfessel. Used by permission of Farrar, Straus and Giroux, LLC. All rights reserved. Contributing author: Quentin Miller, Suffolk University Bedford/St. Martin’s | Order a Book | Instructor Registration | Contact Us | Contact Your Sales Representative

In-depth analysis of the Elizabeth Bishop’s “The Fish”

Order Description

When you are ready, post your reaction to the poem by identifying the literary elements and critical approaches you read and explain how this information either supported or challenged your personal close reading of the poem.

This activity brings together everything you have learned about poetry.
Begin by completing the following:
Closely read Elizabeth Bishop’s poem “The Fish”
Elizabeth Bishop, “The Fish” [Video File] [04 min 24 sec]

Review the in-depth analysis of the Elizabeth Bishop’s “The Fish” at the Bedford St. Martin’s site.
Read three of the literary elements as applied to the poem (click the tab for Elements of Poetry)
Read two of the literary analyses of the poem (click the Critical Approaches Tab).
Check below
________________________________________
When you are ready, post your reaction to the poem by identifying the literary elements and critical approaches you read and explain how this information either supported or challenged your personal close reading of the poem.

1. The Fish
Elizabeth Bishop, 1911 – 1979
I caught a tremendous fish
and held him beside the boat
half out of water, with my hook
fast in a corner of his mouth.
He didn’t fight.
He hadn’t fought at all.
He hung a grunting weight,
battered and venerable
and homely. Here and there
his brown skin hung in strips
like ancient wallpaper,
and its pattern of darker brown
was like wallpaper:
shapes like full-blown roses
stained and lost through age.
He was speckled with barnacles,
fine rosettes of lime,
and infested
with tiny white sea-lice,
and underneath two or three
rags of green weed hung down.
While his gills were breathing in
the terrible oxygen
—the frightening gills,
fresh and crisp with blood,
that can cut so badly—
I thought of the coarse white flesh
packed in like feathers,
the big bones and the little bones,
the dramatic reds and blacks
of his shiny entrails,
and the pink swim-bladder
like a big peony.
I looked into his eyes
which were far larger than mine
but shallower, and yellowed,
the irises backed and packed
with tarnished tinfoil
seen through the lenses
of old scratched isinglass.
They shifted a little, but not
to return my stare.
—It was more like the tipping
of an object toward the light.
I admired his sullen face,
the mechanism of his jaw,
and then I saw
that from his lower lip
—if you could call it a lip—
grim, wet, and weaponlike,
hung five old pieces of fish-line,
or four and a wire leader
with the swivel still attached,
with all their five big hooks
grown firmly in his mouth.
A green line, frayed at the end
where he broke it, two heavier lines,
and a fine black thread
still crimped from the strain and snap
when it broke and he got away.
Like medals with their ribbons
frayed and wavering,
a five-haired beard of wisdom
trailing from his aching jaw.
I stared and stared
and victory filled up
the little rented boat,
from the pool of bilge
where oil had spread a rainbow
around the rusted engine
to the bailer rusted orange,
the sun-cracked thwarts,
the oarlocks on their strings,
the gunnels—until everything
was rainbow, rainbow, rainbow!
And I let the fish go.

2.

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77     I caught a tremendous fish
and held him beside the boat
half out of water, with my hook
fast in a corner of its mouth.
He didn’t fight.
He hadn’t fought at all.
He hung a grunting weight,
battered and venerable
and homely. Here and there
his brown skin hung in strips
like ancient wallpaper,
and its pattern of darker brown
was like wallpaper:
shapes like full-blown roses
stained and lost through age.
He was speckled with barnacles,
fine rosettes of lime,
and infested
with tiny white sea-lice,
and underneath two or three
rags of green weed hung down.
While his gills were breathing in
the terrible oxygen
— the frightening gills,
fresh and crisp with blood,
that can cut so badly —
I thought of the coarse white flesh
packed in like feathers,
the big bones and the little bones,
the dramatic reds and blacks
of his shiny entrails,
and the pink swim-bladder
like a big peony.
I looked into his eyes
which were far larger than mine
but shallower, and yellowed,
the irises backed and packed
with tarnished tinfoil
seen through the lenses
of old scratched isinglass.
They shifted a little, but not
to return my stare.
— It was more like the tipping
of an object toward the light.
I admired his sullen face,
the mechanism of his jaw,
and then I saw
that from his lower lip
— if you could call it a lip —
grim, wet, and weaponlike,
hung five old pieces of fish-line,
or four and a wire leader
with the swivel still attached,
with all their five big hooks
grown firmly in his mouth.
A green line, frayed at the end
where he broke it, two heavier lines,
and a fine black thread
still crimped from the strain and snap
when it broke and he got away.
Like medals with their ribbons
frayed and wavering,
a five-haired beard of wisdom
trailing from his aching jaw.
I stared and stared
and victory filled up
the little rented boat,
from the pool of bilge
where oil had spread a rainbow
around the rusted engine
to the bailer rusted orange,
the sun-cracked thwarts,
the oarlocks on their strings,
the gunnels — until everything
was rainbow, rainbow, rainbow!
And I let the fish go.

about the poet
Elizabeth Bishop (1911-1979) was born in Worcester, Massachusetts. Her father died before she was a year old; four years later, when her mother suffered a mental breakdown, Bishop was taken…(more)

Exploring the patterns created by the formal elements of a poem alliteration — image, tone, and metaphor, for example helps us to understand more deeply the poem’s meaning and the nuances that enrich that meaning. This kind of formal close reading of the poem’s text is fundamental to any analysis of poetry.
To examine what roles various literary elements play in “The Fish,” click on one of the following choices. Interactive questions follow each analysis.
>Assonance
>Denotation and Connotation
>Diction
>Image
>Irony
>Simile
>Symbol
>Tone
For a demonstration of how you might pull together analyses of the elements of poetry in “The Fish,” see our sample essay (PDF).

“The Fish” from THE COMPLETE POEMS, 1927-1979 by Elizabeth Bishop. Copyright 1979, 1983 by Alice Helen Methfessel. Used by permission of Farrar, Straus and Giroux, LLC. All rights reserved.
Contributing author: Quentin Miller, Suffolk University

Bedford/St. Martin’s | Order a Book | Instructor Registration | Contact Us | Contact Your Sales Representative

In-depth analysis of the Elizabeth Bishop’s “The Fish”

Order Description

When you are ready, post your reaction to the poem by identifying the literary elements and critical approaches you read and explain how this information either supported or challenged your personal close reading of the poem.

This activity brings together everything you have learned about poetry.
Begin by completing the following:
Closely read Elizabeth Bishop’s poem “The Fish”
Elizabeth Bishop, “The Fish” [Video File] [04 min 24 sec]

Review the in-depth analysis of the Elizabeth Bishop’s “The Fish” at the Bedford St. Martin’s site.
Read three of the literary elements as applied to the poem (click the tab for Elements of Poetry)
Read two of the literary analyses of the poem (click the Critical Approaches Tab).
Check below
________________________________________
When you are ready, post your reaction to the poem by identifying the literary elements and critical approaches you read and explain how this information either supported or challenged your personal close reading of the poem.

1. The Fish
Elizabeth Bishop, 1911 – 1979
I caught a tremendous fish
and held him beside the boat
half out of water, with my hook
fast in a corner of his mouth.
He didn’t fight.
He hadn’t fought at all.
He hung a grunting weight,
battered and venerable
and homely. Here and there
his brown skin hung in strips
like ancient wallpaper,
and its pattern of darker brown
was like wallpaper:
shapes like full-blown roses
stained and lost through age.
He was speckled with barnacles,
fine rosettes of lime,
and infested
with tiny white sea-lice,
and underneath two or three
rags of green weed hung down.
While his gills were breathing in
the terrible oxygen
—the frightening gills,
fresh and crisp with blood,
that can cut so badly—
I thought of the coarse white flesh
packed in like feathers,
the big bones and the little bones,
the dramatic reds and blacks
of his shiny entrails,
and the pink swim-bladder
like a big peony.
I looked into his eyes
which were far larger than mine
but shallower, and yellowed,
the irises backed and packed
with tarnished tinfoil
seen through the lenses
of old scratched isinglass.
They shifted a little, but not
to return my stare.
—It was more like the tipping
of an object toward the light.
I admired his sullen face,
the mechanism of his jaw,
and then I saw
that from his lower lip
—if you could call it a lip—
grim, wet, and weaponlike,
hung five old pieces of fish-line,
or four and a wire leader
with the swivel still attached,
with all their five big hooks
grown firmly in his mouth.
A green line, frayed at the end
where he broke it, two heavier lines,
and a fine black thread
still crimped from the strain and snap
when it broke and he got away.
Like medals with their ribbons
frayed and wavering,
a five-haired beard of wisdom
trailing from his aching jaw.
I stared and stared
and victory filled up
the little rented boat,
from the pool of bilge
where oil had spread a rainbow
around the rusted engine
to the bailer rusted orange,
the sun-cracked thwarts,
the oarlocks on their strings,
the gunnels—until everything
was rainbow, rainbow, rainbow!
And I let the fish go.

2.

1
2
3
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8
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77     I caught a tremendous fish
and held him beside the boat
half out of water, with my hook
fast in a corner of its mouth.
He didn’t fight.
He hadn’t fought at all.
He hung a grunting weight,
battered and venerable
and homely. Here and there
his brown skin hung in strips
like ancient wallpaper,
and its pattern of darker brown
was like wallpaper:
shapes like full-blown roses
stained and lost through age.
He was speckled with barnacles,
fine rosettes of lime,
and infested
with tiny white sea-lice,
and underneath two or three
rags of green weed hung down.
While his gills were breathing in
the terrible oxygen
— the frightening gills,
fresh and crisp with blood,
that can cut so badly —
I thought of the coarse white flesh
packed in like feathers,
the big bones and the little bones,
the dramatic reds and blacks
of his shiny entrails,
and the pink swim-bladder
like a big peony.
I looked into his eyes
which were far larger than mine
but shallower, and yellowed,
the irises backed and packed
with tarnished tinfoil
seen through the lenses
of old scratched isinglass.
They shifted a little, but not
to return my stare.
— It was more like the tipping
of an object toward the light.
I admired his sullen face,
the mechanism of his jaw,
and then I saw
that from his lower lip
— if you could call it a lip —
grim, wet, and weaponlike,
hung five old pieces of fish-line,
or four and a wire leader
with the swivel still attached,
with all their five big hooks
grown firmly in his mouth.
A green line, frayed at the end
where he broke it, two heavier lines,
and a fine black thread
still crimped from the strain and snap
when it broke and he got away.
Like medals with their ribbons
frayed and wavering,
a five-haired beard of wisdom
trailing from his aching jaw.
I stared and stared
and victory filled up
the little rented boat,
from the pool of bilge
where oil had spread a rainbow
around the rusted engine
to the bailer rusted orange,
the sun-cracked thwarts,
the oarlocks on their strings,
the gunnels — until everything
was rainbow, rainbow, rainbow!
And I let the fish go.

about the poet
Elizabeth Bishop (1911-1979) was born in Worcester, Massachusetts. Her father died before she was a year old; four years later, when her mother suffered a mental breakdown, Bishop was taken…(more)

Exploring the patterns created by the formal elements of a poem alliteration — image, tone, and metaphor, for example helps us to understand more deeply the poem’s meaning and the nuances that enrich that meaning. This kind of formal close reading of the poem’s text is fundamental to any analysis of poetry.
To examine what roles various literary elements play in “The Fish,” click on one of the following choices. Interactive questions follow each analysis.
>Assonance
>Denotation and Connotation
>Diction
>Image
>Irony
>Simile
>Symbol
>Tone
For a demonstration of how you might pull together analyses of the elements of poetry in “The Fish,” see our sample essay (PDF).

“The Fish” from THE COMPLETE POEMS, 1927-1979 by Elizabeth Bishop. Copyright 1979, 1983 by Alice Helen Methfessel. Used by permission of Farrar, Straus and Giroux, LLC. All rights reserved.
Contributing author: Quentin Miller, Suffolk University

Bedford/St. Martin’s | Order a Book | Instructor Registration | Contact Us | Contact Your Sales Representative