It is curious that nowadays their poems are looked down upon as too purply, obscure, and outdated, when they were the edgy rebels of their time. Outrageous and sensual, these group of dramatic youths left their mark not only on poetry, but on pretentious young adult aesthetics that last to these days.
Look at The Vampyre, the first piece of gothic fiction to contain the "elegant vampire" which was basically fan-fiction about Lord Byron, and without which we would not have Dracula, Interview with the Vampire, True Blood and Twilight. We would not have had goth/Lolita aesthetic either, so my 8th grade prom dress would have been some boring and trashy piece of fabric instead of the magnificent period-inspired gown it was.
If Frankenstein hadn't existed, neither would all those monster B movies and transhumanist debates we have nowadays. The issues it covers are as relevant today as they were in the 19th century. The fact that her mother, Mary Wollstonecraft, was a women's right activist and Mary Shelley herself created one of the greatest pieces of literature ever written, makes them both a staple in women's history. If you want to read more on them, I recommend Romantic Outlaws (which I haven't read yet but I hear is amazing).
Without these people, we would not have had decadentism, aestheticism, or dandyism. And that's a world I just don't wish to live in.
Furthermore, if you've ever written angsty teen poetry, it's in part because second-gen romantics shifted the poetry game to focus on one's own feelings of despair (and beauty, and precocious nostalgia) in the face of the enormity of existence. You. are. welcome.
They were depressed and attuned to beauty, desperately seeking for connection yet also deeply individualistic. Their poetry evokes not only the feel of their generation, it provides and outlet for all of that confusing hunger and ennui that invades teens and young adults everywhere, especially in the face of ever-changing times.
Where to start? Well, so many possibilities, but as the class focused on Keats, let's go with him.
Three facts:
1. Medical apprentice
2. Obsessed with death and fame
3. Died at 27
From the class selection, I would say my favorite poem of his is "Ode to a Nightingale", but let us look at this other gem for the sake of brevity:
Can't you just see him, scribbling away furiously at night, looking out his window? Can't you imagine the speaker standing on a shore or a cliff looking into the horizon, silently mulling over these grand themes? According to the professor, he was already dying when he wrote this, and if you can't feel his anguish simmering, then I can't really help you. There is an esoteric atmosphere, sustained by magical/sublime landscape imagery: "cloudy symbols", "shadows", "magic hand of chance", "fair creature", "faery power", "wide world", "on the shore", complimented with literary allusions: "high-pilèd books", "charact'ry", "high romance", "trace". Clearly he was absorbed by the gran beautiful things (Love and Fame), while at the same time acknowledging their fleeting nature. The fact that it ends "to nothingness do sink" can feel like acceptance or just a sad nod to reality.
Unlike his pal Shelley's, Keats' poetry has a more intimate understated feel. While the concerns are similar, Keats' work is more contained in a way, as it is not really about whether the outside is impressive or not: it always is, as long as you observe it in a manner that makes you feel. In that sense, it's all about deep individual experience... and isn't that the most relatable thing there is? What does it matter if you don't get one or two references? (What is google for, anyway?) Just experience the beauty and the existential dread, just as Keats did himself.
Where to start? Well, so many possibilities, but as the class focused on Keats, let's go with him.
Three facts:
1. Medical apprentice
2. Obsessed with death and fame
3. Died at 27
From the class selection, I would say my favorite poem of his is "Ode to a Nightingale", but let us look at this other gem for the sake of brevity:
Unlike his pal Shelley's, Keats' poetry has a more intimate understated feel. While the concerns are similar, Keats' work is more contained in a way, as it is not really about whether the outside is impressive or not: it always is, as long as you observe it in a manner that makes you feel. In that sense, it's all about deep individual experience... and isn't that the most relatable thing there is? What does it matter if you don't get one or two references? (What is google for, anyway?) Just experience the beauty and the existential dread, just as Keats did himself.
So get rid of your Romantic Poetry fears, embrace negative capability*, pick up Keats or Shelley or Lord Byron (if I might recommend a good selection of them plus others, I'd encourage you to pick up A Choice of English Romantic Poetry), and read away, at a park or by candlelight (hopefully not at the same time). Also, go read "Adonais: An Elegy on the Death of John Keats" by Shelley, because it's a masterpiece (and the verse that appears as the title of this blog comes from it).
Also, I don't know if this is true, but at this stage of 2019 I don't think it matters.
Mister Lewis, we can all relate.
* Negative Capability: Term coined by Keats referring to the writers' (particularly Shakespeare) capacity to accept "uncertainties, mysteries, doubts, without any irritable reaching after fact and reason". Related to the sublime, it entails not only focusing on experience over explanation, but actually enjoying the enormity of the mysterious, being able to accept that overwhelming fear and channel it into their creations.
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