PAIN AND THE WORK OF POE

What would the work of Edgar Allan Poe be without pain? Without brooding, dark images. Without the longing for those gone forever and the desperate need for an end to tortured thoughts and feelings?

I quote from 'The Raven', "Quaff, of quaff this kind nepenthe and forget this lost Lenore?" And from 'For Annie', "Thank heavens! the crisis-the danger is past, /And this lingering illness/Is over at last-/And the fever called 'Living'/Is conquered at last."

The beauty of these poems is overwhelming. The feelings they stir, the form so perfectly executed, and the words themselves so aestheticly strung would have been impossible to achieve without the equally important elements of brilliance, artistry, talent, knowledge, and pain.

Poe's pain stemmed from a myriad of things. Looking back, one can see the facts: Orphaned at age three & adopted by Mr. and Mrs. John Allan - the former of whom never really liked Poe, the latter of whom loved Poe dearly, but died early in his life; had problems in the areas of drinking, gambling, drugs and love; the death of his wife, Virginia, at the tender age of 24 and, looking at his behavior outside of those things, he seems also to have been a manic/depressive.

Poe had the talent, fortitude, and love for writing, being an editor, and a critic of writers of the day, but his personality problems made it impossible for him to hold down a job. Thus he was in constant monetary straits. This added to his depression and problems in every other aspect of his life.

Thus we can see a body of work produced through a life of pain. Would his work have been as good if he had had the "Life of Riley", so to speak? I'm sure we can say it would, but it would not have been so dark and hauntingly beautiful. It would still have depth - because that came from the soul, and it would still have talent and artistry - because that came from his knowledge and inner-self. But it would certainly have had a different taste. Whether it would have been as memorable can only be guessed.

My guess is that it was his unique combination of circumstance and ability that made his work so memborable. His work, to me, is perfect. Any variation, and he would have been just another poet.

-Sherry Dedman-Sherritt

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