A Literary Mystery
He's arguably the 20th century's most famous Phoenician: Phlebas, the uncrowned Fisher King of T. S. Eliot's monumental 1929 poem The Wasteland.
IV. Death by Water
Phlebas the Phoenician, a fortnight dead,
Forgot the cry of gulls, and the deep sea swell
And the profit and the loss.
A current under sea
Picked his bones in whispers. As he rose and fell
He passed the stages of his age and youth
Entering the whirlpool.
Gentile or Jew
O you who turn the wheel and look to windward,
Consider Phlebas, who was once handsome and tall as you.
“Death by Water” has haunted me since first I committed it to memory as a graduate student years ago.
Perhaps because the lament for Phlebas is the lone entirely comprehensible section in Eliot's ruined city of a poem, it has gone oddly undiscussed by critics. Apparently, it has never occurred to even a single commentator to ask about the name itself.
In fact, it has much to tell us.