Edgar Allan PoeEssay Preview: Edgar Allan PoeReport this essayEdgar Allen PoeBy: Kiersten EssenpreisEdgar Allan Poe Edgar Allen Poes contributions to American literature have become increasingly more prominent as the years have passed. As short fiction has become a more accepted genre in literary circles, Poes theories are studied with more passion. Although he lived a rather melancholy life, Poe did experience moments of joy, and desired to capture the beauty through poetic form. Indeed, what he left behind for the literary world was his gifted genus, revealed through his poetry, fiction, and criticism. The darkness that seems to surround Poes life began as an infant. Poe was born January 19, 1809 in Boston, Massachusetts. He was the second son of David and Eliza Poe, but soon after he was born, David abandoned the family. Then two years after that occurrence, Eliza died from tuberculosis. After her death, Edgar, his little sister, Rosalie, and his brother, William, were separated. While William was sent to live with his grandparents, and Rosalie was sent to a family in Richmond, Virginia, Poe moved to live with John and Fannie Allan (Silverman 1-15). John Allan was a well-known businessman, and Poe was no longer surrounded in poverty. John made sure that Poe was given a good education, and when living in England with the Allans, he went to private academies. The then moved back to the states, and Edgar enrolled at the University of Virginia in 1826. When he was there, he spent much of his money, and soon found himself in debt. He asked Mr. Allan to pay for it, but he refused, because he assumed that the debt was due to Poes constant gambling and consumption of alcohol (Silverman 29-38). It can be assumed that the greatest contributor to Poes disturbance was his addiction to alcohol. His foster familys status made this problem a shameful vise, and a source of conflict. Poe used drinking as an escape of sorts, and his life was greatly affected by the substance. It disrupted his writing, his first engagement, and his time with his foster family. After he left home, he tried to make a life for himself in Boston. He was reunited with his brother, but at the young age of 24 he died which upset Poe very much. His writing became more insistent after being rejecting constantly by newspapers. Soon afterwards, he married his own cousin, Virginia, who was his symbol as the perfect woman. In 1837, he moved to New York, where competed with some of the best contemporary writers of that time. Just when his life and writing seemed to be becoming constant and somewhat stable, his wife died of tuberculosis, and this shattered Poe. His writing instantly became dark and dreary, but he used the death of his wife as inspiration to write of death and love and reunion. His worked continued to grow, and people began to notice it. But it was not until after his death on October 7, 1849 that his writing was given the recognition that it deserved (Hart 521-2). Throughout his short-lived life, Edgar Allan Poe compiled a collection of literature, poetry, short fiction, and literary criticism. Some people think that some of Poes criticism has endured more than his short fiction and poetry. Hart writes, “There have been strongly divergent evaluations of Poes literary significance, from Emersons dismissal of him as the the jingle man and Lowells three-fifths genus and two fifths, sheer fudge to Yeats declaration, always and for all the lands a great lyric poet” (522). The criticism of his poetry and writing was a direct criticism on his theories, as he implemented his theories in all of his writing. For example, Poe believed that length was extremely important. Poe once wrote that, “If any literary work is too long to read at one sitting, we must be content to dispense with the immensely important effect derivable from unity of impression- for, if two sittings is required, the affairs of the world interfere, and like everything like totality is at once destroyed” (Hart 129). Thus, length was the very key to enjoyment of a poem or a short story. Unity was also very important in Poes writing. As Hart explains, “The single unifying factor in all of Poes works is the concept of unity itself” (11). He was very concerned with the relationship of words and their effect on the reader. Poe drove himself to create a dream world, one self-contained within writing itself, without the help of external forces. He did this because he did not want his writing to be dependent
on any outside variable. Now that short fiction and poetry have become an accepted genre, Poes theories have become even more important. When creating, Poe believed, that one should use an inverse approach to writing. He thought that the writer should have one “single effect”, which motivated the entire piece of literature. He thought that the best approach to this would be by coming up with an ending first, and then go about finding the means in which to achieve it. He once stated that, “A skillful literary artist has constructed a tale. If wise, he has not fashioned his thoughts to accommodate his incidents: but having conceived, with deliberate care, a certain unique or single effect to be wrought out, he then inverts such incidents- he then combines such events as may best aid him in establishing this preconceived effect” (May 124). Poes poetry uses a theme that appears to deal primarily with his fear of loss, not of himself, but of loved ones. In many of
‥-1 books, the writer is often the protagonist, and in many stories a sympathetic character arises. For others, he is the one’s father. For each of these reasons, many writers choose to be sympathetic, especially when the character has become so famous in a country where literary criticism is prohibited. Poes has a special appeal. He was not just a poet. He was a writer – even as a poet. I am sure they can learn some valuable business from him. My only reservation for this writer is that he has few readers, who often won’t trust a poet, who does have to be a good friend to get along with some of his colleagues. Some may feel that he is too self-effacing and pretentious, or that the poem is too short for the average Englishman, but I suppose I must agree. If I had a friend that could relate to the words ‥-1…, I’d prefer a lover. „– The Sorrow of the Heart ․-1‥-A Story from the Life of George Eliot
My dear friend, I have a wonderful morning, and I have just seen you here at the library, and I see myself sitting down in my chair. Can I please not tell my friend how you feel? I am very sorry about that! I’ve told you the thing about you being a great writer, I’m very sorry if it is noxious to hear. I have taken your book to the museum where it has been made, and you have a wonderful and great portrait of yourself. So, I am looking your way. Very good; good evening. I have a fine book for you. Come up to the window and look at it with your eyes closed. It’s a beautiful book. It’s a beautifully printed letter which was written by your great friend in 1834. My dear friend, I have written this book to you for you because I think this is a work that you may admire. You know, there are two kinds of young folk. Some who are gifted or gifted writers, those whom you see in all the papers and they are not so lucky as you. I am sorry to tell you so. I’d like to say, my dear friend, I read it all through. And all that that’s about it goes to my father’s office. He’s coming up to you. There is a copy in your hand, and a copy will be very dear to you. I’ve had no difficulty reading it, ․. — “The Truth” (From the Library, 1895)
I cannot remember what it was that you taught me to read at this very moment – and it wasn’t that you liked it. The feeling that had been implanted in me then was that I had to work the book myself. I’m not sure whether or not there was any physical experience between you and me. So, you’ve never read for me. I have no idea about how long or how small your book was, but I remember very intimately how much it was. You’d write a couple sentences straight between your letters, and then you’d put it in the book, and I’d put some of that word that you wrote into the form of an asterisk and read back the words. I suppose it really was pretty simple – it sounded to me like you were trying to get a bit more information out of my heart, but I didn’t quite know it, so I told you then and there. And I said to myself, ‘This is the most wonderful thing about writing, this is what it was like – this is what it’s worth’.” Or perhaps, “This is the most wonderful thing about literature”… It’s true, but what you read in the way you read