Of Edgar And Literature And Abraham Lincoln

Occasionally while lost in the throes of literary passion, I forget that I am in a room full of jaded, ultracool sixteen-year-olds who find much of anything written before say, yesterday on their cellphones, pretty extraneous and boring. I get all excited and emotionally invested in what I'm talking about--flinging myself about the room, perhaps even welling up a bit and getting verklempt and all, gesticulating meaningfully--and they watch, not the least bit amazed or impressed. Oh, at first they were frightened, sure, but now it's become so commonplace that they just sort of wait me out until it runs its course and the moment passes and I come back to them.
This week, it happened with Edgar Allan Poe. Edgar is...well, I feel like I am A Special Defender Of His Memory. This man has been so vilified for so long that I never let an opportunity go by to set the record straight on his story. (And, yes, I am on a First Name Basis with him. I've studied him and his works and taught him for so long and protected his legacy so unstintingly that I feel I have the privilege.)

I always start out introducing Edgar by asking the students what they think they already know about him. They trot out the usual crap: he was a drug abuser. Wrong. He was an alcoholic. Wrong. He was crazy. Wrong. Sigh. About the only thing they get right--and gleefully announce--is the fact that he married his 13-year-old first cousin. That much is true. Then I tell them the whole story of how he called her "Sissy," how he lived with Virginia and her mother for a time and was concerned with the scandal it was creating, how he and Virginia were childless for their entire marriage, and how the most recent scholarship says the marriage was likely never consummated based upon the above and other letters and evidence. I tell them about how Edgar's biography was first written by his archenemy, Rufus Griswold, and how it became the accepted story. And then, I tell them to look at the photo of Edgar in their textbooks while I read them a better bio of his life. And I say, "Can you just see the terrible sadness in this man's face? Look at him. His whole life was one of want and loss. He practically gave his genius away. The story we're reading today was sold for only ten dollars! Let's give it more than that for him." Later, as the students were analyzing the story in groups, one group called me over to ask me a question about the story's theme. We talked about the evil inherent in man, and man's instinct to struggle to survive. I related it back to Edgar's life. "Poor Edgar," I said ruefully. "I just want to go back in time and try to save him from it all."

The two girls smiled at me. "Oh, Mrs. D.," one said. "You can't do that. Then he might not have written all these stories. And then Stephen King might never have written any of his stories. "

"That's true," I said. "But, haven't you ever looked at an old photograph of someone and seen something in the person's face, in his eyes? Something that told you what that person had seen or been through?"

"No," one girl said, eyeing me cautiously. I think she was starting to worry that I'd be off again into one of my little spells.

"I hate old pictures. They creep me out," said the other girl.

I was undeterred. "Well, I have a thing for Abraham Lincoln," I began (probably an unwise choice of words, I soon realized by their expressions). "I read books about him like crazy, for some reason. And when I look at his picture, into his eyes, it's like I fall in. I can just completely get him. I find him fascinating and human and incredible. But his pictures; I can't explain it. It's not entirely like that with Edgar, but I care about Edgar."

Just then, another student in another group raised his hand. As I moved away, I heard the boy near the girls' group say, "What was that all about?"

"Mrs. D. was talking about Poe and Abraham Lincoln," one girl said.

"Yeah, she kills me," the other girl said. "Now, I'll never be able to look at Abraham Lincoln's picture the same way again. Or Poe's. She does that to me a lot."