The legacy of Edgar Allan Poe still mystifies me. As I introduce this man each year to my seventh-grade students as the “Stephen King of many years ago,” their faces become astounded at the bizarre facts that surrounded the man’s life.
Known mostly as a horror writer for stories that have become classroom legends – “The Tell-Tale Heart,” “Fall of the House of Usher,” “The Black Cat” (which is hands-down the most effortless title ever), and “A Premature Burial,” few people remember Poe as a romantic. Not the mushy-mush, kissy-face garbage, but more of a cascading waterfall of velvety rhythms and prose that flow like a fluent machine.
He had a grasp of the English written language that could haunt your dreams and paralyze your broken heart – with classics like “Rue Morgue” and one of the most popular poems ever written (with one of the coolest rhyme schemes) in “The Raven.” (My classes love watching the Simpsons' version.)
And then there is the bizarre stuff that would get one locked up in today’s world. I continue with my students: “Imagine, if you will, a man who consumes drugs and booze on a regular basis; writes about a murdering monkey and dismembered senior citizens; marries his 13-year-old cousin, when he was 26; and is found in the gutters wearing someone else’s clothing before dying of unknown causes.”
Isn’t all that info twistingly comical? The kids eat it up. (Contrarily, Stephen King is an odd-looking bird but that aside, predominantly normal.) Today, Poe's sort of human would be raked through the coals of all TV talk shows and, through the courts of public opinion, found guilty of being certifiably insane. But as an historic figure of American literature, he is revered as one of the greats and awarded the mascot name of an NFL team (Baltimore Ravens).
A lot of my students love reading King's stories because of the over-the-top violence and supernatural imagery. But a huge difference is the attention-span advantage Poe’s work offers. You can read “The Tell-Tale Heart” in five minutes. It’s not possible with King’s “It” at 1,000-plus pages. Poe wears the big crown over the court of classic American wordsmiths. As a drug-addict, alcoholic, and depressed lunatic who finds sick love within his own family, that twisted legendary legacy sits proudly on the pallid bust of Pallas above our world's chamber door.
Known mostly as a horror writer for stories that have become classroom legends – “The Tell-Tale Heart,” “Fall of the House of Usher,” “The Black Cat” (which is hands-down the most effortless title ever), and “A Premature Burial,” few people remember Poe as a romantic. Not the mushy-mush, kissy-face garbage, but more of a cascading waterfall of velvety rhythms and prose that flow like a fluent machine.
He had a grasp of the English written language that could haunt your dreams and paralyze your broken heart – with classics like “Rue Morgue” and one of the most popular poems ever written (with one of the coolest rhyme schemes) in “The Raven.” (My classes love watching the Simpsons' version.)
And then there is the bizarre stuff that would get one locked up in today’s world. I continue with my students: “Imagine, if you will, a man who consumes drugs and booze on a regular basis; writes about a murdering monkey and dismembered senior citizens; marries his 13-year-old cousin, when he was 26; and is found in the gutters wearing someone else’s clothing before dying of unknown causes.”
Isn’t all that info twistingly comical? The kids eat it up. (Contrarily, Stephen King is an odd-looking bird but that aside, predominantly normal.) Today, Poe's sort of human would be raked through the coals of all TV talk shows and, through the courts of public opinion, found guilty of being certifiably insane. But as an historic figure of American literature, he is revered as one of the greats and awarded the mascot name of an NFL team (Baltimore Ravens).
A lot of my students love reading King's stories because of the over-the-top violence and supernatural imagery. But a huge difference is the attention-span advantage Poe’s work offers. You can read “The Tell-Tale Heart” in five minutes. It’s not possible with King’s “It” at 1,000-plus pages. Poe wears the big crown over the court of classic American wordsmiths. As a drug-addict, alcoholic, and depressed lunatic who finds sick love within his own family, that twisted legendary legacy sits proudly on the pallid bust of Pallas above our world's chamber door.