His name is the subject of countless puns from English teachers. His face can be seen on everything from cheesy coffee mugs to hipster tote bags. His work is on every list of great American poetry, not to mention countless summer reading lists. But does anyone really know the real Edgar Allan Poe? Say no to plagiarism. Get a tailor-made essay on “Why Violent Video Games Should Not Be Banned”? Get an original essay For a man whose stories are shrouded in mystery and deception, perhaps the greatest story of mystery and deception is his own life. The first biography written about him was written posthumously by his nemesis, so it was full of errors and slander (“The Life of Poe” 1). Not to mention that Poe was a rather private man, so the real Poe is hard to distinguish from the drunken wretch he is presented as. He certainly has his fans as well as his critics, and for good reason. His works are hailed as the best examples of Gothic literature at a time when literacy was first becoming accessible to the general public. Poe's central themes of loss, particularly the death of young people caused by illness, were all too relevant. Although the modern premature mortality rate has declined significantly, the theme of death has not disappeared from literature and, therefore, the deep motifs of loss and despair are as relevant to the 21st century reader as they are were during Poe's lifetime. In his writings, Poe uses vivid imagery, incorporates multifaceted symbolism, and plays on the emotions of his audience to best convey his own twisted sense of reality. Poe's dark and often evil tales are credited with influencing writers such as HP Lovecraft and Ambrose Bierce, "who belong to a distinct tradition of horror literature initiated by Poe" (Poet Details 1), as well as the director of psychological thriller Alfred Hitchcock, who attributed his love of horror to growing up reading Poe (Bits and Pieces 1), is not surprising as the root of the world's dark, obsessed obsession with l. Poe's writing lies in his remarkable talent for manipulating language. In one of his most famous short stories, "The Fall of the House of Usher," Poe weaves a tapestry of melancholy around the narrator's old friend, a sad man. who recently lost his twin sister and is himself dying of an illness that can only be described as psychosomatic. The story is introduced by John P. Roberts, editor of a collection of stories. Poe titled Eight Tales of Terror and authored the following analysis: “We can choose from a list of Poe's mood words: gloom, melancholy, decadence, gloom. , dilapidation… “instability”, “terror”, “hysteria”… the (same) house is full of sinister pulsations” (Roberts, 90). The rest of the story continues this way. The narrator goes on to describe the decaying house, which is almost personified as an outward embodiment of the declining spirit of Roderick Usher. “Poe's language prevents us from seeing his characters and situations as relating to real life,” Roberts explains in the introduction to his compilation Poe. “The characters are like figures moving on a carefully prepared stage; often they are less important than the painted backdrop – a fiberglass curtain that makes everything soft and dreamlike. It feels like it should be. If the public...comes close enough to suspect that Ligeia or Madeline Usher might need to eat breakfast, sew on a button, or meet someoneat the station, Poe's spell is broken and the story becomes a farce... for Poe, distance is preserved by language. » (Roberts x). All of this is to say that Poe's seemingly enchanting sadness flows directly from the words themselves. They are remarkably eerie and paint a scene of deep grief and tumultuous emotional turmoil. Poe, although better known for his short stories than his poetry, is said to have more than mastered the latter. “The laws of effect, mood, tone, music (and) length of poems reached their culmination…(in) “Annabel Lee,” in which, by means of repetition, each stanza wrapped around and absorbed its predecessor before it could move on” (Davidson 98). The gripping, sad, gentle rhythm of Poe's work is truly a feat that deserves the highest esteem, as it allows the reader to truly delight in the images they might otherwise admire. “In her sepulcher by the sea/in her tomb by the echoing sea,” he writes, writing to commemorate the young “Annabel Lee,” carried away too soon by “a wind (that) blew from a cloud at night” (Poe, Poetry Foundation). For example, he deliberately chooses the term "sepulcher", which gives substance to the enigmatic, dusty, even gloomy tone that Poe is aiming for. The word “grave” is darker, drearier, and more frightening than “resting place” or “burial.” The tragic loss presented in “Annabel Lee” is immortalized in a way that plays on emotionally charged words. One of Edgar Allan Poe's favorite methods of displaying his intellect is to lace a work with classical allegory and symbolism that only those of equal education would pick up. The symbols are often dark and fitting for such a macabre writer. One such example is found in arguably his most famous work, “The Raven.” Poe's poetic masterpiece recounts the bitterly sad fate of the narrator, who mourns the loss of his lover "whom the angels call Lenore" (Poetry Foundation 11). The exquisite sweetheart to whom he writes is often thought to be his wife, Virginia, who died of tuberculosis after only four years of marriage (Swan 2). Of course, the poem is riddled with symbolism, from "gloomy December" (Poetry Foundation 7) to the "majestic Raven of the holy days of old" (40) perched atop the "bust of Pallas just above the gate of my room.” (43). Poe ingeniously incorporates the allusion to the Greek goddess of intellect and strategy, Pallas (better known as Athena) in “The Raven,” which is a testament to the narrator’s intellect. Since a statue is a statement of status and pride, it symbolizes the narrator's great pride in his own intellect. However, the bird, a raven (an omen of death and tragedy) flies into his house and perches nonchalantly atop this bust as if it had no value, demonstrating how the prideful intellect of the narrator is useless and perhaps even laughable next to the powers of the soul. fate and death (Davidson 87). Other symbolic elements fill the poem: the room in which this happens can be seen as an embodiment of the narrator's solitude, the rich furniture recalls his lost Lenore. The storm raging outside may represent how the speaker finds himself in the eye of the storm: calm in his own sadness, but surrounded by an emotional turmoil that threatens to enter at any moment (16 ). Then, of course, there is the healing balm that the speaker requests from the bird when he asks, “Is there–is there any balm in Gilead?” – tell me – tell me, I beg you! (88). The "balm" he speaks of is thought to refer to balsam, a thick, viscous sap from certain shrubs native to the biblical tribes of Gad, Reuben, and Manasseh.(grouped together to form “Gilead”). It has often been used to numb and seal open wounds, although modern studies show that this liquid can cause other unforeseen health problems when ingested (Moreau 2013). Even this is too perfect: the man's pain is so great over the loss of "Lenore" that he would almost beg a strange bird to tell him if there was such an ointment that could ease his pain, well sure, his answer. is, as expected, “Nevermore.” Public reaction to Poe's "The Raven" has been varied. Some reveled in his masterpiece. In a letter, Elizabeth Bennett Browning told Poe: "Your 'Raven' has produced a sensation, a 'dignified horror,' here in England." Some of my friends are taken by fear and others by music. I hear of people haunted by 'Never again,' and an acquaintance of mine who has the misfortune of owning a 'bust of Pallas' can never bear to look at it at dusk” (Browning 1). Others were less than impressed. Some found his work too dark, including the editors of the Richmond Compiler, which, in the February 1836 edition, responded to Poe's "Duke of Omlette" by wondering why Poe insisted on "descending into the dark, the mysterious and the mysterious.” unspeakable creatures of licentious fantasy” and dabble in “German enchantment and supernatural imagery” (Bits and Pieces II 1997). Jill Lepore, editor-in-chief of The New Yorker and holder of a doctorate in American studies from Yale, also ridiculed his work, saying: "Most of Poe's stories have this 'Boo!' » country and floozy. business at the end. Poe knew they were cheap stuff…(and) that they weren't to everyone's taste” (18). Lepore goes on to accuse Poe of writing not to satisfy the world's need for literature, but to put food on the table. She even cites a letter Poe sends to his publishers and the rather miserable postscript of “p.s., I am poor” to illustrate her despair (21). It is often debated whether Poe was truly a lover of poetry and literature, creating art that is the love child of bitter despair and beautiful tragedy, or simply a desperate man driven by hunger alone. Regardless, his dark goal was achieved: his writings kept him alive and had a tremendous impact on the world of literature. As George Lippard stated in the November 1997 edition of the Citizen Soldier newspaper, "Delighting in the wild and visionary, (Poe's) mind penetrates the innermost recesses of the human soul, creating vast and magnificent dreams, eloquent fantasies and terrible mysteries. Once again, he indulges in a happy vein…which does not copy any writer in the language” (Bits and Pieces II). Clearly, Poe's work stirs emotions in his readers. He is like a puppeteer whose puppets are his readers, the strings his words. One such case is found in his short story “The Cask of Amontillado”. This tale tells of the anger and bitterness of a nobleman, Montresor, towards another named Fortunato. Montresor never explains what his “thousand wounds of Fortunato” actually are, but the emotion he feels is raw and true. The little story of revenge where Montresor lures Fortunado into the city's catacombs with the promise of good wines (as suggested by the title of "Amontillado", a dry sherry) satisfies a sadistic, even childish, need to "take revenge". Readers can identify with Montresor's vengeful spite, but also with Fortunato's agony. After all, even the smallest children play “He started it!” » card when the big guys intervene, because it is human nature to want revenge. This gives its audience..”