The Snark on Alchemy Podcast "Love's Corner Case"
- The Snark
- 6 days ago
- 4 min read
Tithonus | Love and the Curse of Immortality
Opening Scene: "I Hope You're Ready to Cry"
Well, folks, brace yourselves. If you’ve ever wondered what it feels like to be emotionally run over by a Victorian poet’s metaphorical steamroller, this podcast episode is for you. Tim kicks it off with a bang by asking LeeAnna, “Ready for a little depressing poetry?” To which she responds in a tone that’s practically a cry for help, “I’m always ready for a little depressing poetry from you.” Oh, the joy of starting a podcast with that kind of optimism.
So, yes, get ready for a dive into the utterly morose world of Alfred, Lord Tennyson’s Tithonus. And by “dive,” I mean “sink into an abyss of existential doom and cosmic irony.” I’d give it a 4 out of 10 for being the absolute best way to ruin your day.
The Poem: The Gift That Keeps on Giving… Anxiety
Tim introduces us to Tennyson and immediately sets the tone with the worst possible sales pitch - “Yeah, it’s a poem from 1860 that took him 27 year to write, that’s super depressing, but don’t worry, there’s love in it too!” Love? Sure, Tim. Love that ends in eternal suffering, torment, and eventual yearning for sweet, sweet death. And that’s just the beginning.
Tennyson’s “Tithonus” follows the tragic tale of a man who’s given immortality by the goddess Eos - but forgot to ask for eternal youth. A tiny little detail, right? Let’s just ignore the fact that his soul-shattering immortality basically becomes the worst kind of curse. He ages forever, while his goddess-wife stays young, and love becomes a cruel joke. You know, casual stuff like that.
Tennyson, Lord of the Tragic and the Overdramatic
Here’s a fun fact: Tennyson’s first poem was “Timbuktu.” And though Tim has never read it, he’s absolutely certain it’s probably awful. And I have to agree with him. I mean, any poet who can follow up “Timbuktu” with a poem about immortality and eternal suffering must have been a real hit at parties.
Tennyson was definitely a fan of making life sound terrible. His poetic relationship with death was awkward at best. Tim, though, is a fan (mostly). As a future podcast teaser, we’re promised that the next Tennyson poem on deck will be “The Lotus Eaters.” Don’t worry, we’ll all dive headfirst into that hopeless, philosophical quagmire later. But for now, let’s focus on Tennyson’s obsession with death - probably due to his “special friend” Hallam dying young. Nothing like real-life tragedy to inspire art that makes you want to start your own apocalypse.
The Heart of Darkness: Love, Death, and Poor Life Choices
Tim takes us through the backstory of Tithonus and his poor, poor choices (doesn’t ask for eternal youth; love’s kind of doomed from the start). Tithonus was granted immortality by either Eos (in the poem) or Zeus (in Greek mythology) - but, of course, he forgot to add the youth clause. Because, why not? He might as well have also forgotten the not-being-tormented-for-all-eternity clause. You know, minor details.
This tragic oversight leads to Tithonus becoming an ancient, frail man who’s desperately trying to escape his endless, aging existence. His lovely, immortal wife Eos? Not much help. But, hey, at least she looks stunning in the afterlife.
The poem explores the real stuff of relationships: love, painful separation, and the inevitable fact that sometimes people, for reasons beyond their control, have to be apart. But instead of a wholesome “I’ve grown as a person” separation, Tithonus’s situation is more “I’m physically decaying, and my partner is forever young.” So much for growing old together. Talk about getting the short end of the immortality stick.
Immortality: The World's Worst Tinder Profile
Tim gets deep about how “the point at which you have to stop loving someone” is a real question in relationships. He talks about everything from addiction to infidelity to the tragic inevitability of disease - and yet, we are left pondering: when is it time to call it quits? It’s an existential dilemma, and one we’re definitely not solving in a 25-minute podcast. But let’s give it a try anyway.
You can’t just wave a magic wand and erase pain. But Tithonus shows us that it’s sometimes about breaking up, sometimes about not breaking up - and surviving someone else’s slow, painful transformation. It’s tragic, it’s beautiful, and it’s definitely something that makes you wish you’d never opened that emotional Pandora’s box.
Tithonus as a Cautionary Tale for the 60-Year-Olds Dating 18-Year-Olds
LeeAnna chimes in with the immortal (pun intended) observation that the whole “immortal goddess falling for a mortal man” is a cautionary tale for anyone in their 60s dating 18-year-olds. Tim laughs, but I have to ask - when will we all learn? Is there a single podcast where this isn’t brought up? (Spoiler alert: No.)
The Lesson for Writers: Good Luck with That One, Buddy
Finally, Tim wraps up with advice for writers. What do you do when your characters are faced with the tragic realization that love isn’t enough? Sure, you could write a happy, fairy-tale ending - but that would be boring. So, here’s the deal: Write about the hard stuff. Write about the point where love turns into a slow, painful goodbye. Maybe the relationship ends in an inevitable, mutual respect - or maybe one partner turns into a shrinking, decrepit shell while the other sails into eternal youth. Either way, it's about confronting reality. And reality? It’s pretty ugly sometimes.
Final Thoughts
Look, there’s nothing like a Tennyson poem to make you question everything about love, life, and immortality. And you know what? That’s the fun part. If you can look at Tithonus, reflect on that grim future, and still believe in love, you’re either a masochist or incredibly optimistic. But that’s the whole point, right? Life, love, and time - none of it makes sense.
So, what do we do? We write it. We write the ugly stuff. We write the decaying relationship, the endless, painful separation, and maybe even a few chunks of the Moon falling on the helplessly distracted (or very in love) people below. Why not?
Keep writing. Keep weirdly loving. And maybe - just maybe - don’t forget to ask for the youth clause.
The Snark
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