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Hyperbole
Definition of Imagery
Imagery, in any sort of writing, refers to descriptive language that engages the human senses. For instance, the following lines from Robert Frost's poem "After Apple-Picking" contain imagery that engages... read full definition
Imagery, in any sort of writing, refers to descriptive language that engages the human senses. For instance, the following lines from Robert Frost's poem "After... read full definition
Imagery, in any sort of writing, refers to descriptive language that engages the human senses. For instance, the following lines... read full definition
Book 1: The Cruciform Tree
Explanation and Analysis—Mexican Ovens:
As Latour struggles through the desert alone in the novel’s first chapter, Cather uses visual imagery and a simile referring to kitchen equipment to invoke the dangerous monotony of the scene. She writes that as Latour journeys
He must have travelled through thirty miles of these conical red hills, winding his way in the narrow cracks between them, and he had begun to think that he would never see anything else. They were so exactly like one another that he seemed to be wandering in some geometrical nightmare; flattened cones, they were, more the shape of Mexican ovens than haycocks—yes, exactly the shape of Mexican ovens, red as brick-dust, and naked of vegetation except for small juniper trees.
The simile comparing conical mesas to "Mexican ovens" allows the reader to picture the Southwestern landscape clearly. “Mexican ovens” like the ones Cather describes here are squat, round brick and adobe structures set onto the floor. This simile suggests not just the shape but also the color and texture of the hills, as the rock formations around Latour resemble the ovens’ brick and clay.
Although this image might in another context seem domestic and comforting, to Latour the landscape is a “geometric nightmare.” He cannot tell the difference between one mesa and another. To him, they are almost artificially repetitive and perplexing, like a maze designed to confuse a traveler. The journey seems endless and the landscape remains largely unchanged, as he rides through a uniform "thirty miles of these conical red hills.” This repetition invokes feelings of entrapment for the reader, as Latour seems to be caught in an endless loop of similar landmarks, “naked of vegetation” and ceaselessly repeating.
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Explanation and Analysis—A Priest in a Thousand:
In a passage describing Father Latour for the first time, visual imagery and foreshadowing intertwine to explain the link between the priest's character and appearance for the reader. According to the speaker, he was
[...] a priest in a thousand, one knew at a glance. His bowed head was not that of an ordinary man,—it was built for the seat of a fine intelligence. His brow was open, generous, reflective, his features handsome and somewhat severe. There was a singular elegance about the hands [...] Everything showed him to be a man of gentle birth—brave, sensitive, courteous. His manners, even when he was alone in the desert, were distinguished. He had a kind of courtesy toward himself, toward his beasts, toward the juniper tree before which he knelt, and the God whom he was addressing.
Cather's description paints the younger Latour as calm and elegant in both his looks and his demeanor. This concept of the inner self matching the outer is relatively consistent throughout Death Comes for the Archbishop, where characters' external appearances often echo their personalities. This man is so refined that a person could understand “at a glance” that he was a special person. Latour is "a priest in a thousand," meaning that even among religious men he is a particular example of good character and breeding. He has an “open, generous, reflective” brow, which Cather tells the reader signals a fine intellect and a thoughtful nature. His handsome, somewhat severe features, elegant hands, and slight academic stoop signify his “gentle” birth. Even when he’s in dire straits, he is serious and courteous, treating God, the world around him, and himself with respect.
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Explanation and Analysis—Wavering Town:
Cather uses inviting, blush-colored visual imagery and a simile referring to a river to describe Latour's first view of Santa Fé:
[...] Santa Fé, at last! A thin, wavering adobe town . . . a green plaza . . . at one end a church with two earthen towers that rose high above the flatness. The long main street began at the church, the town seemed to flow from it like a stream from a spring. The church towers, and all the low adobe houses, were rose colour in that light,—a little darker in tone than the amphitheatre of red hills behind; and periodically the plumes of poplars flashed like gracious accent marks,—inclining and recovering themselves in the wind.
The color palette of Sante Fé—which Latour has been longing to reach—makes it seem even more warm and welcoming than it might otherwise. The adobe's "rose color" set against "the amphitheatre of red hills" makes the unfamiliar city feel like it is embracing Latour. Where the red rocks of the Southwestern landscape had previously seemed harsh and foreign to him, these pinks in their “amphitheater” of red feel warm and comforting. Indeed, the vision is so appealing that it seems like a mirage, which Cather suggests when she says the town is “wavering.” Looking at things from a great distance in the desert can cause an optical illusion where they seem to “move” in the heat. Latour’s finally reached his destination, and although it’s real, it still seems like another desert illusion, with trees "flashing like gracious accent marks, inclining and recovering themselves in the wind.” The passage’s blushing visual imagery is literally colored with Latour's relief and anticipation as he arrives in Santa Fé.
By saying the town “flows” from the church, the narrator illustrates the church's central role in the life of Santa Fé. This simile suggests that the church is not just a physical structure but a vital source, like a spring of water that begins a river, from which the life of the town emerges. This imagery also aligns with Father Latour's perspective as a religious figure, who would see a church as the heart of any community that had one. Finally, the use of the word "flowing" implies that the development of the town around the church has a natural, organic quality. It evokes a sense of harmony, suggesting that the town's growth and existence are intrinsically tied to the church.
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Book 1: A Bell and a Miracle
Explanation and Analysis—A Silver Globe:
Cather populates Latour's dreams with vivid auditory imagery and similes, bringing his fantasies closer to the reader. As he lies asleep dreaming in Santa Fé, Latour imagines that he hears the sound of the Angelus bell ringing in Rome:
Still half believing that he was lodged near St. John Lateran, he yet heard every stroke of the Ave Maria bell, marvelling to hear it rung correctly (nine quick strokes in all, divided into threes, with an interval between); and from a bell with beautiful tone. Full, clear, with something bland and suave, each note floated through the air like a globe of silver. Before the nine strokes were done Rome faded, and behind it he sensed something Eastern, with palm trees,—Jerusalem, perhaps, though he had never been there.
Here, Cather evokes the sound of the Angelus bell, which is rung three times a day in Rome as a way to call Catholics to prayer. She describes it as "full, clear, with something bland and suave," as if the beauty of its sound is so pure it's "bland" and so smooth it's "suave," which usually means "refined" or "cultured." The bell's rhythm, "nine quick strokes in all, divided into threes, with an interval between," invites readers to "hear" and understand it. Even if they have never heard the bell itself, they can understand the rhythm of a count of nine.
Describing this sound as a "globe of silver" blends auditory and visual sensory language together through a simile. This visualization gives the ringing a tangible, almost physical presence, as if Latour can “see” as well as “hear” the sound.
This sound extends beyond mere ringing; it connects Father Latour to Rome even at this great distance. In doing so, it also evokes the broader religious and cultural landscape of the Catholic faith’s spread across the world. Latour is linked to Rome through the call to prayer that the Angelus bell makes on him, even in his dreams.
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Book 3: Jacinto
Explanation and Analysis—Golden Ashes:
Jacinto and Latour sit by the fire enjoying some refreshments and the sunset over the Ácoma mesa, gazing out at the wild landscape around them. Cather mobilizes visual and smell imagery to bring this desert twilight to life:
The Bishop sat drinking his coffee slowly out of the tin cup, keeping the pot near the embers. The sun had set now, the yellow rocks were turning grey, down in the pueblo the light of the cook fires made red patches of the glassless windows, and the smell of piñon smoke came softly through the still air. The whole western sky was the colour of golden ashes, with here and there a flush of red on the lip of a little cloud. High above the horizon the evening-star flickered like a lamp just lit, and close beside it was another star of constant light, much smaller.
The visual imagery in this passage is intensely colorful, as the afterglow from the sunset dies down and the only remaining colors are the earth tones of the mesas and desert. Cather also evokes the "glassless windows" of the houses below them, which glow like "red patches" from the fires lit within. The language aligns the sky with the embers of the Bishops' fire. As it dies down into glowing embers, the sky is also "golden ashes." This fiery imagery is supported by Cather's descriptions of warm scents: Latour's coffee, the embers of their campfire, and the smell of piñon smoke (a kind of pine native to the Southwest). She makes it seem as though every aspect of the scene is connected.
This sense of connection even extends to the stars above Latour and Jacinto, as Cather illustrates through a simile. As the twilight descends, the evening star flickers like "a lamp just lit." All aspects of the natural world are working in tandem.
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Book 3: The Rock
Explanation and Analysis—Underwater Mass:
In his early days in Ácoma, Latour is having a difficult time reaching his new, unfriendly flock of parishioners. The author employs a simile and vivid visual imagery to describe the atmosphere inside the church as Latour tries to conduct a miserable Mass:
He held a service there before midday, and he had never found it so hard to go through the ceremony of the Mass. Before him, on the grey floor, in the grey light, a group of bright shawls and blankets, some fifty or sixty silent faces; above and behind them the grey walls. He felt as if he were celebrating Mass at the bottom of the sea, for antediluvian creatures; for types of life so old, so hardened, so shut within their shells [...]
Instead of feeling welcomed by the church, Latour perceives the building as being so cold and unpleasant that standing in it is like being deep underwater. This simile brings the unwelcoming, bone-chilling atmosphere of the church to life for the reader. All the tactile imagery is harsh, cold, and damp. Cather's use of the word "antediluvian" (meaning "prehistoric" here) implies that the church and the people within it feel ancient, like relics from a forgotten time.
The visual imagery of this passage also evokes a sense of the inhuman. Latour feels that he has stumbled into a community of unfriendly underwater creatures. The congregation is so unyielding that they are literally “shut within their shells” like oysters or barnacles. The monotone sensory language of the "grey light," "grey floor," and "grey walls" further contributes to the unwelcoming fog it seems Latour must push through to preach. Nothing about this service is pleasant: indeed, “he had never found it so hard to go through [...] Mass.”
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