Prufrock, the man who has measured his “life out in coffee spoons,” laments his predetermined isolation sentenced by an imitative society (51). An imaginative soul stifled by tea parties, he only feels able to express his dissatisfaction with society and the detrimental effects it has upon him through a dramatic monologue with no audience. He prefaces his lament of a love song by raising the voice of one who spoke while in hell, Guido da Montefeltro. Just as Montefeltro spoke candidly about his shame because he believed Dante would not return to earth to recount his message, so does Prufrock speak openly about his insecurities and dissatisfactions as he believes there is no one listening to him. He dances around an “overwhelming question” that he never asks by illustrating how society prevents him from taking such a risk; he cannot risk such vulnerability in a reputation obsessed culture (10). As Charles Walcutt explains, Prufrock cannot ask his question because “of the failure of communication among people who are so intellectual as to be rootless, so ‘sophisticated’ as never to be quite serious, so precious as to be constantly in fear of ridicule” (71). This fear of ridicule causes him to perceive society as a hypercritical community in which one must operate with formulated finesse to be accepted. Although he tries to conform, Prufrock believes that society judges him, “They will say: ‘But how his arms and legs are thin!’” (44). He transforms this perceived judgment into a persona that he must address while making decisions in attempt to avoid further judgment. Consequently, he must mediate a form of double consciousness between his perception of self and his perception of society’s opinion of him as he contemplates how to behave. Prufrock demonstrates that this burdensome double consciousness leads to his failure to ask his question at all and causes him to revert to a state of mental escapism to avoid the detrimental effects of inactivity and time. However, through his vulnerable expression of insecurity, the reader connects with Prufrock’s lament of solitude and his critique of the wrongness of society.

Prufrock’s entire monologue is presented as a struggle between his two personas within his opening line. After making it clear through his Datean parallel that he can only utter the thoughts that he articulates because there is no one around to judge his vulnerability, he tells himself, “Let us go then, you and I” (1). Following an initial reading, it may appear that the “you” is referring to the woman to whom he wants to ask the question. However, the “then” in the opening line exists in tangent to the preface. Essentially, the “then” indicates that since no one will repeat what Prufrock says, he can speak. Therefore, it is impossible for another listener to exist, and consequently, both the “you” and the “I” must be associated with Prufrock. Frederick Locke proposes that “in this case we would come up with such a configuration as: Guido is to Dante as Prufrock I is to Prufrock II” (55). This idea indicates that Prufrock’s two personas, his own and the one informed by society, debate whether to ask the question throughout the monologue, and, therefore, show an internal dialogue of double consciousness.

Additionally, the uneasy and conflictive nature of Prufrock’s personas are emphasized by the grammatical structuring of the opening line. Prufrock foreshadows his entire monologue of unease and inaction with the line that indicates that something is amiss with an improper usage of grammar. Willis Jacobs explains that since the “‘you and I’ is a phrase in apposition with the ‘us’ of ‘Let us go then,’” the phrase should actually read ‘you and me’ (5). The existence of this grammatical error is indicative of both the conflictive nature between Prufrock’s two personas (his “you and I”) as one conforms to the conventional structure while the other does not and the conflictive nature between Prufrock’s personal persona (his “I”) and conventional society. Through this grammatical upset, themes of wrongness and unease arise in the primary line and set the tone for a piece of writing that illuminates the detriment of society.

Once the dichotomy of Prufrock’s two personas and the tone of unease are established, Prufrock’s personal persona moves on to express how it feels to adhere to society’s expectations. He lays out a startling image of how society operates and how society makes him feel, “When the evening is spread out against the sky/ Like a patient etherized upon a table” (2-3). His argument stands clear within his dramatic imagery: as each evening within society is set by strict rules, there is no room for spontaneity or individuality. Instead, everyone that exists within society is asleep; they do not recognize that they are “spread out,” for they are fully subdued by the construct of society. Prufrock’s personal consciousness can see this, and this is why he desires to ask the woman the question; he wants true human connection beyond the sleeping awake.

Prufrock’s personal consciousness continues to elaborate upon the argument that a more humane and natural form of connection exists beyond these conscientious, subduing gatherings of humanity. He turns to the image of the yellow fog and yellow smoke to explicate his message. The image and actions of the yellow smoke and fog contain implicit sexual actions that occur in three stages- woo, climax, and rest (Hakac 53). The smoke, with the mannerisms of a cat, and the fog woo each other through the window-panes, “The yellow fog that rubs its back upon the window-panes,/ The yellow smoke that rubs its muzzle on the window-panes” (15-16). They woo each other, and they find one another on the same side of the window to continue the narrative. This ability to move through the window separates the natural existence from the socially constructed reality. The fog and smoke desire an engagement, so they move to the same side. However, the socially constructed human asks how this is possible as one cannot walk through glass, just as Prufrock views socially constructed rules and expectations as unforgiving as glass, and therefore, he cannot reach out to the woman in a vulnerable fashion.

Once the fog and smoke meet, the fog becomes the submissive for the continuance of the endeavor (Hakac 53). The smoke “licked its tongue,” the fog made “a sudden leap,” and the smoke “curled once about the house, and fell asleep” (17-22). Prufrock observes this interaction and dictates that “indeed there will be time/ For the yellow smoke” to “lift and drop a question on your plate” (23,30). By stating that there will be time for the yellow smoke to be assertive, he is likening himself to the smoke. He wants to be assertive, but as he mediates his double consciousness, he says that there will also be “time yet for a hundred indecisions,/ And for a hundred visions and revisions,/ Before the taking of toast and tea” (32-34). As he talks, he admits that he is not assertive, and he likens himself much more to the fog than to the smoke; his socially complying persona rules as the smoke. He falls victim to indecision, and time continues to slip by as he tries to conform to the social expectations at toast and tea.

Once Prufrock admits his submission to time, his personal consciousness begins to contemplate how much time he has and how much purpose that time maintains. He points out the effects of time that are already present on his body. He observes “a bald spot in the middle of [his] hair” (40). He observes this undeniable kiss of time upon his head, and asks himself what he is to do about it. The answer to his question “Do I dare/Disturb the universe?” is clear (45-46). He is to ask the question. However, as quickly as his assertive consciousness stakes this claim, his socially aware persona wavers in his confidence. He questions his own assurance and says “in a minute there is time/ For decisions and revisions which a minute will reverse” (47-48). Through repetition of this same inactivity due to the standstill debate between his two personas, Prufrock’s eternal isolation persists. With every decision that Prufrock makes, his social insecurities prevent him from taking action, and he becomes as submissive as the fog to time.

Frustrated with his own inaction, Prufrock describes how he sees the rest of his life. He admits that because he cannot stop living as one in society etherized by its expectations; he has “known them all already, known them all-/ Have known the evenings, mornings, afternoons” he has “measured [his] life out with coffee spoons” (49-51). He can see the following years of inaction laid out, and as unhappy as he is about his fate, he offers no resolution. Although his personal consciousness has “wept and fasted, wept and prayed,” his thoughts only turn darker (81). He not only sees his days stretched out before his eyes, he also sees death approaching. He sees “the eternal Footman hold [his] coat, and snicker,/ And in short, [he is] afraid” (84-86). He is afraid because what he has feared for so long, leaving a legacy of failure in society, has manifested itself in a more permanent failure, being completely forgotten after death. Not only does this fear permeate the remaining pages of this poem, it has also become a reality for the man about whom this poem was written. T.S. Eliot’s inspiration for the unusual name of Prufrock was most likely derived from the furniture store, Prufrock-Littau Company, that was located in St. Louis, Eliot’s birthplace. However, when asked, Eliot said that he has no recollection of recalling the name of Prufrock from a source, but he assumes that he did subconsciously (Stepanchev 400-401). Fictional Prufrock fears the fate of the furniture salesman as he contemplates the end to his unhappy days.

As Prufrock sees his death, he compares his inconsequential death to those of heroes by stating, “I am no prophet,” “No I am not Prince Hamlet, nor was I meant to be” (83, 111). Compared to the great legacies of these heroes and others, he consigns to himself that he is not meant to be heroic as his socially aware persona will not allow him to take risks. Instead, he looks at other labels that people are assigned and assumes the label of the Fool. He describes himself, “Politic, cautious, and meticulous;/ Full of high sentence, but a bit obtuse;/ at times, indeed, almost ridiculous-/ Almost, at times, the Fool” (116-119). Attached to the reference of Prince Hamlet, Margaret Blum argues that The Fool, too, is a specific character in Hamlet; “There is no live fool in Hamlet; but there is Yorick, a dead fool, the sight of whose skull moves Hamlet to discourse bitterly to Horatio on the same subject which prompts Prufrock's ruminations-the futility of human existence” (424). Hamlet addresses Yorick in the play by acknowledging that he had in life mocked and questioned the validity of a pretentions society, but now he lays dead, decaying next to those who had conformed. This persona quite accurately parallels Prufrock’s private thoughts, and by calling himself the Fool, he resigns himself to the fact that regardless of what he says, he will eventually die, and the meaninglessness of his futile life will become readily apparent.

Resigned to the meaninglessness of his endeavors, Prufrock escapes into the fantasies of his imagination. The question of whether he should or should not ask his question falls away as he notes the meaningless of life. He cries, “I grow old… I grow old” and mocks the little nuances of life that worry him, “Shall I part my hair behind?/ Do I dare eat a peach?” (120-123). With each meaningless question, both of Prufrock’s personas retreat further and further from his anxiety producing place in society. His personas can agree on little, but they do agree that once death approaches, all that has been accomplished or critiqued will hold little merit and little legacy, so instead of perpetuating worry, in a Walter Mitty fashion, he fantasizes walking along the beach with mermaids until “human voices wake us, and we drown” (131). Additionally, even in his dreamlike state, he does not allow himself to find love. He admits to himself that he does not think that the mermaids will sing to him, and this inability to find love in any reality drives him further into his fantasies, “ta-pocketa-pocketa-pocketa-pocketa-pocketa” (Thurber 1). He now views being pulled back into reality as more torturous than removing himself altogether. He finds air and sustenance in the land of mermaids, but the human voices that wake his personas to reality burn him as water does inside human lungs. A victim of a depressing society, Prufrock prefers to live in the secret world of J. Alfred Prufrock.

As his love song’s melody descends from a discourse between his two personas to the accepted notion that he has nothing to contribute, Prufrock draws further and further into himself. The irony of the situation is that Prufrock, a man wallowing in his self-sentenced solitude, connects with his unintended audience. Although Prufrock talks only to himself, the reader can understand his perspective and can relate to the insanity of obsessing over acceptance in an arbitrary society; the love song of solitude becomes the love song to raw humanity. Although Prufrock does not know it, he has found the resolution to his search; he has stirred true human connection. As James Haba notes, readers engage in Prufrock’s monologue expecting to observe only the stark alienation that permeates the pages. Essentially, readers see the solitude because that is what is felt under an isolating society, but in “trying to read this poem anew, we may find ourselves entering in just that experience of community the poem [has] hitherto often been thought to deny, and which we [have] strangely sought to avoid” (54). The reader can see Prufrock’s struggle to conform to society, and through that observation can note how he/she too has struggled to meet society’s standards. Through a unified rejection of society, true connection is discovered.

Prufrock, a man who wishes for nothing more than to find love amid a faux and regulated community, falls victim to the perceived judgment and power of society. Although he is clearly dissatisfied with the expected behaviors and activities of society, he must mediate each decision between a double consciousness of his personal opinion and his perceived understanding of how others view him. He considers mundane decisions to require contemplation, so asking the woman of his gaze the question of great importance requires extensive thought. Through mediation, his two personas engage in direct dichotomy, and consequently, the differing personas compromise with complete inaction. This repetitious inaction leads to Prufrock’s awareness of time and his waste of it. As thoughts of wasted time turn to thoughts of a wasted life and consequential death, Prufrock escapes to a place of mental rest, fantasies of his own creation. As the reader observes Prufrock’s order of thought, he/she can relate as Prufrock acknowledges many of the same fears that he/she contemplates. Through this connection to a man who feels completely isolated, the reader is able to recognize the wrongness of the construct of society and “[squeeze] the universe into a ball” (92). Through this connection, Prufrock’s song spreads the love that he so desperately seeks, and through his lament of solitude, the reader finds support and community.

Works Cited

Baym, Nina, and Robert S. Levine. “The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock.” Ed. T.S. Eliot. The Norton Anthology of American Literature. New York: W. W. Norton, 2012. 2006-009. Print.

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Haba, James C. “‘Till Human Voices Wake Us and We Drown’: Community in ‘The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock.’” Modern Language Studies, vol. 7, no. 1, 1977, pp. 53–61. www.jstor.org/stable/3194154.

Hakac, John. “The Yellow Fog of ‘Prufrock.’” The Bulletin of the Rocky Mountain Modern Language Association, vol. 26, no. 2, 1972, pp. 52–54. www.jstor.org/stable/1346502.

Jacobs, Willis D. “T. S. Eliot's ‘The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock.’” The News Bulletin of the Rocky Mountain Modern Language Association, vol. 8, no. 1, 1954, pp. 5–6. www.jstor.org/stable/1346407.

Locke, Frederick W. “Dante and T. S. Eliot's Prufrock.” MLN, vol. 78, no. 1, 1963, pp. 51–59. www.jstor.org/stable/3042942.

Stepanchev, Stephen. “The Origin of J. Alfred Prufrock.” Modern Language Notes, vol. 66, no. 6, 1951, pp. 400–401. www.jstor.org/stable/2909497.

Thurber, James. “The Secret Life of Walter Mitty.” The New Yorker. N.p., 13 Dec. 2013. Web.29 Nov. 2016.

Walcutt, Charles Child. “Eliot's ‘The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock.’” College English, vol.19, no. 2, 1957, pp. 71–72. www.jstor.org/stable/372706.