Literary Criticism And The Magazine example essay topic

Autobiography Of Edgar Allan Poe Essay, Research Autobiography Of Edgar Allan Poe Although I cannot remember it clearly, as a child at the age of 3, one of the worst tragedies of my life occurred. My mother died of an infectious fever. My mother, an actress, had three children: Rosa line, William and I, Edgar Poe. My father had left her for reasons I do not know about, and she was left with three children to raise by herself. This was a difficult task for her, she was an actress with not an ample supply of money for a family. Soon she grew ill and very weak and had a lack of money.

To support herself some fellow actors played benefits to make her some money. However, despite help from others, she died of the illness. I was left with nothing but a miniature portrait of her, some letters, and a sketch of the Boston Harbor. The remaining memory of her in my head is very small and blurred, but what she has given to me and what I have managed to remember, is something I will forever cherish. After this event, I was left with no mother and no guardian and no one to take care of me. I was then taken in by a Richmond merchant by the name of John Allan and his wife.

However our relationship did not blossom. There was a rigid gap between us, one which grew more year by year. My father and I encountered many problems, one of which was his personality. We were two very different people, with different principles, thoughts, ideas etc. For ex; when my mother passed away, I became very upset and miserable. My father found my behavior a sign of un thankfulness.

Another incident in which our personalities clashed was one which involved my mother. While my mother was ill, the man who I am ashamed to call my father had many mistresses. He would even take them to my very house, while my mother sat in another room feeling uneasy and miserable, unaware of her husbands sins. I found this behavior a disgrace, I believe that women should only be treated with respect and dignity.

Another problem that John Allan and I had was finances. My father would send me away to college with only enough money to pay for board, attendance, and food for a little while. When I told him I needed more money he wouldn? t send any, he would think that I spent it carelessly and was just looking for more. With no money to feed and clothe my self I was reduced to having to gamble.

However, gambling put me in an even worse state. At one point I was $2,500 in debt and was being pursued constantly. I changed my name a few times to avoid being followed by those who I owed money to. Alcohol; it was my escape from the drudge ries of life, and a stimulant that added many more. It was also what helped label me a, ? raving, drunken lunatic? , a label that was far out of proportion. Alcohol effected my life greatly, at different ages, and for different reasons; my health suffered, my jobs disappeared, and many of my dreams did too.

I had a very bad disadvantage with alcohol; I was so sensitive to it that even one drink could drive me mad. After a few drinks, I was not responsible for my words or actions. My desire for alcohol knew no bounds, if I had one or two drinks I would keep drinking until I was out of money. Sometimes I would even find myself stranded in the street with someone else's clothes on oblivious to where I had gone or what I had done. As a child, alcohol was present in my household. As an infant, my parents pacified me with bread soaked in gin, and as a young man I made toasts with the dinner guests.

While young, my cousin did warn me about my genetic disposition to alcohol, but I disregarded his warnings. I began drinking as a young man. During college, I went to bars frequently and drank to my hearts content, I even kept a convenient bottle of brandy in my room. After late nights of a lot of drinking I would become a lunatic.

However I did not do an drugs as popular belief may hold. Doctors did prescribe me some, but I ended up throwing it up; it never went through my system. As the years went by, I had found myself trying to support myself as a writer. My lack of money put me in a very depressed state for a while. Also, in my life span, it seemed as if everyone who I grew to love was torn away from me by death. One of the most tragic events I experienced was the death of my beloved wife Virginia.

I drank constantly after her death. I lost many opportunities because of my drinking. I lost my job as editor at the Southern Literary Magazine, and Buttons Gentlemen Magazine as a result of alcohol. I could hardly hold down any job because of this.

My dreams for making a magazine were also diminished because of my problem. I attempted making a magazine 3 times, and all three times I failed. Rufus Griswold took advantage of my problem and made me appear like a lunatic while he critiqued me. Even at death he had no pity on my soul, and wrote an article on full of lies on me; he said I was a drunken maniac etc... Rufus Griswold; the main contributor to the labeling of me as a? raving drunkard? was not only an enemy but a big competitor of mine. I honestly reviewed his work, and he dishonestly reviewed mine.

He would make up vicious rumors just because I would critique his work with sincerity; if his work was poor I would say it. For my sincerity was assaulted. Griswold and I were good friends at one point. However, our friendship soon took a downfall.

Griswold came out with a book called the Poets and Poetry of America in which I was also included in, however I reviewed this book harshly. A vast majority had proclaimed Griswolds novel as a great one, and a vast number of people had purchased it, but I found it included some of the worst poets and left out some of the best ones. Griswold replied to my criticism with a nonsense remark. After this incident my relationship with Rufus Griswold was never the same. As time went by, our relationship did not grow better.

At one point he even had the nerve to come between me and a woman I loved, Helen Whitman. He sent her letters that included passages which criticized me, and at hearing this she was even more hesitant about marrying. Griswolds vengeance knew no bounds. Even after I died he made vicious attacks on me. Once he had received notice of my death, he was compelled to write an obituary article about me. He made very outlandish remarks, and absurd accusations.

A few of my friends tried to clear this up but before they could even try, Griswold stopped them. He created the third and final volume of his? Memoir? on me, which was an article of compiled rumors and lies. My friends read this?

Memoir? and most of them lost all respect for me. Once again, Griswold had attacked and succeeded. However Griswold did not go unpunished. He suffered an epileptic fit while in a ferry, fell in the water and sank twice before being rescued. His daughters train plunged into a river and he had to view 49 corpses till he found his daughters. Also, a gas leak burned his face severely and took off seven fingernails.

Finally his dormant tuberculosis became active and he died. The final series of events show Griswold finally got what was coming to him, too bad I wasn? t there to enjoy each and every second of it. The life I had where I lived on my own was a very hard one; I lived in poverty. I was the first American writer who tried to support himself just by writing and it was not an easy task. I could not make enough money to feed myself many times. Many unfortunate events have taken place because of my lack of money.

My wife Virginia probably could? ve been saved, or been able to live longer if I had more money. Our house was very cold, and I had to use my coats to try to keep her warm, even the cat would lie on her to try to keep her warm. I was publishing very little and could not help her though. My family was unable to feed or dress themselves. At one point a newspaper printed an article for others to come to my aid. When I did write, I did not receive much money for it.

For making the Raven, I only received $14. Also in the year of 1848, I only made $166. At times I did have jobs as an editor of a magazine or something along those lines, but I would show up drunk and unable to work at times and I would be fired. I applied for a job at the customs house but I showed up intoxicated.

My emotional crisis impacted me greatly. It effected my work, stories etc. My emotional started ever since I was a child to my death. One of the things that effected me greatly was the death of my wife Virginia. She had died of tuberculosis as did my mother, step mother, and brother. I was deeply in lover with her, and her death made me a wreck.

I would drink constantly to try to heal the pain but that did not work. I wrote Anabell Lee for her. Her death left me looking for other women to supply the need that Virginia had left me with. The short story, detective story, poetry, literary criticism and the magazine- these are all things have contributed to in the span of 40 years. My contributions to literature are still used today throughout the world. I also was the first American to invent a form of literature; I invented the detective story.

The first detective story I made was the first one ever written, its called, ? The Purloined Letter.? The same elements used in this story is still used in modern detective stories today. I made three elements that I believe make a detective story successful. These elements are crime, the detective, and the method of detection.

The crime is the reason for the story, the cause of the incidents that follow. After the crime has been described and the authorities have failed then the detective steps into the case. Next, when ordinary police methods have failed, the question is what method of his the detective will bring to the solution of the crime. Although time has passed and the genre of the detective story has become more sophisticated, my methods seem ahead of time and scarcely? old fashioned? ; my standards are still sound.

My literary criticism stands beside my short stories, detective stories, poetry, and magazines as a worthy contribution to Americas literary heritage. I had many beliefs and standards in literary criticism also. I believe that a critic is not a parasite who lives off other men, he must distinguish good writing from bad. He must also give good reasons for doing or saying something. I also believe that a critic should know some biography of the artist and the circumstances of the composition he's critiquing, but this should not affect thing critical opinion. I also think that the critic of poetry should also have poetic sentiment.

Many modern poets believe that judges should be made up of critics who are themselves poets. Also, I believe in the necessity for strong criticism. There should be no flaw that goes unmentioned. If there is a piece of good literature than positive criticism should be merited. Some have constantly criticized me for being an outlandish and extremely harsh critic, however I find myself being nothing but sincere. I am only discarding the worthless and making the worthwhile shine splendidly by contrast.

I am known as the father of the short story. They are my highest achievement. I concentrated in them intensely because I thought it was something needed in America; reading material that does not take too much time, but is remembered and worthwhile. I made rules for the short story to combine in a right structure to produce an intended effect. The first rule is that you have to conceive the ending of the story before you start writing.

Also, it should have striking originality. Next, it should be able to be read in one sitting. It should also create one definite emotion in the story. Finally, every word and phrase should concentrate on the emotional feeling of the story. A great deal of my work consists of short stories, ones that are famous through out the world. What I did for the story was unify it, and made it an art form that is uniquely my own.

I also contributed a lot to the magazine. I served as an editor of the Southern Literary Messenger, Burton's Gentleman's Magazine, Graham's Magazine, and the Broadway Journal. I tried to please the public by writing good shirt stories in magazines. I also was aware of all the literary trends and tried to keep note of them in my magazines. When I got involved with the Southern Literary Messenger and Graham's Magazine was when they started to get popular. I knew what the public wanted and were prepared to pay for and I gave them what they wanted.

I also made a great contribution to poetry. I believe I was a poet at heart. During my last years in life I made many very famous poems such as the Raven and Anabell Lee. My poetry was similar to my stories in mood, tone, and even events, and sometimes I added poetry to my stories. I also Theorized about poetry more than I did about prose. I repeatedly discuss verse and verse forms in my book reviews.

I was one of the few people to interpret my own poems. The most popular and well known theory of my death is the one in which I die of intoxication. Most people believe this, and have not heard of other theories for it was first thought this and it is more common then the second theory. I was on my way to Baltimore from Richmond with a trunk containing some clothing and books when I was found at a Baltimore tavern a week later, wearing strange clothing, and semiconscious.

It was election day in the town and the tavern served as a polling place. The days before were very cold, windy and rainy; I was a bit sick from exposure. Others thought I might? ve been mugged and drunken in order to cast more votes for a candidate. They took me into a hospital and after being delirious for a few days I died.

From this most people concluded that I was drunken because of the elections going on and mugged, and ended up dying. The next theory of my death is one far different from the first well known one. This theory was thought of very recently and is not as popular and well known as the previous one. This theory states that I died of rabies. Doctors drew this conclusion from a few symptoms of rabies that I was showing. I drank water with great difficulty, which is a symptom of rabies.

Also, I died in a very short time span, which is what happens to a victim of rabies. At the hospital, I was perspiring heavily and hallucinating. The day after I was better but I had no memory of what had happened. At my last day I grew confused, then grew quiet and died.

This is a classic case of rabies. Although no one is sure of my death, for there was no autopsy, this is a possible answer. This is a short summary my life, one which was full of sufferings. Even at my death bed I said? the best thing my best friend could do would be to blow out my brains with a pistol.?

I believe that god did bless me with a spark of genius but quenched it with misery

Bibliography

Bur anelli, Vincent. (1977) Edgar Allan Poe.
Boston: G.K. Hall and Co. Hart, James (1983) Oxford Companion to American Literature Oxford O.
Press Malone, Dumas (1963) Dictionary of Biographies American Council of Learned Society Pouter, Thomas.
Edgar Allan Poe and Alcohol? (1995) n.
pag. Online. AOL. Silverman, Kenneth (1991) Edgar Allan Poe New York: Harper Collins Smith, Gary (July 1990) Once Upon a Midnight Dreary Life Magazine.