Goin’ to the grocery store

As I promised in class, here’s Allen Ginsberg’s A Supermarket in California, a poem about one of Ginsberg’s encounters with Whitman. I’m a firm believer in Whitman-as-force / each’s-own-Walt, however we want to phrase the connections each individual seems to form to Whitman as both a historical object and a personal ghost.

...Who killed the pork chops? What price bananas? Are you my Angel?

Here also is a scan of Jack Kerouac’s Berkeley Song in F Major, scanned from the UMW Library’s copy of Poems All Sizes. Kerouac worked heavily in what he named spontaneous prose, a borderline style of automatic writing “in semi-trance (as Yeats’ later ‘trance writing’) allowing subconscious to admit in own uninhibited interesting necessary and so “modern” language what conscious art would censor” (Sic: Kerouac’s grammar is intentionally… uninhibited by convention.) This quote is taken from his “Essentials of Spontaneous Prose,” see also his “Rules of Spontaneous Prose“.

I see telephone pole
A hundred miles high
With invisible wires
Of Transcendency--
Walt! Jack!

I’m still working out my own feelings on Kerouac–I still have yet to tackle any of his novels. Still, this poem was the entry point for “my” Walt. Though I had prior exposure to Whitman’s work (especially The Wound-dresser), it wasn’t until I began writing response poems to Berkeley Song that Whitman started showing up in my life in the more total, personal ways we’ve been ascribing to each’s-own-Walt. That’s a story for another post, though!

About a million connections have been drawn from Whitman to the Beat Generation, especially in the context of defining the “American poet”. I’ll save the intellectualizing for class, though–the irrational, spiritual elements of these poems take the trajectory of a Whitman-esque poetic tradition beyond of the intellectual or metaphorical, and (especially in Kerouac’s work) continue Whitman’s philosophies as real practice.

9. The unspeakable visions of the individual
10. No time for poetry but exactly what is
11. Visionary tics shivering in the chest

Check it out! –Danny

Reviews of “LoG”

When doing the readings for today’s class, I was very interested by the completely opposite reactions to Whitman’s “Leaves of Grass” expressed in the two reviews of it. While I don’t think the fact that this work was controversial and lead to such different views of the work is surprising, it was very interesting to me to see how differently the reviews were written. I feel like the way that they were written directly reflects the views that the reviewer had on the work.

The negative review, written by Rufus W. Griswold, is what you would expect of a traditional review/comment on a work. It briefly describes the type of things the work talks about (even if it is done so in a very biased way), and then goes into the reviewers opinion of the work. Griswold discusses how the views of Whitman go against social virtues, and therefore should not be read or distributed by anyone. The standard nature of the review reflects want for society to follow a standard socialized order, abiding by certain moral codes and rules.

In contrast, the positive review, written by Fanny Fern, is not written in a traditional way. It is much more confusing and requires more thought to understand what exactly she is saying about Whitman’s work. Fern is directly expressing her appreciation and positive feelings towards Whitman’s work not just through her actual words, but through her going against of the standard order and format of a review.

Thoughts on Emerson’s “The Poet”-

Hi everyone!

One idea from Emerson’s “The Poet” that I keep thinking about was his suggestion that meaning becomes visible when we attend carefully to nature. Emerson doesn’t quite frame this as modern “self-discovery,” but he does suggest that the world, especially the natural world, is full of impressions that point beyond themselves, impressions most people feel but cannot fully express. The poet, for Emerson, is the one who can receive those impressions deeply enough to give them voice.

What I find myself stuck on is how this way of thinking fits with society.

On the one hand, Emerson seems deeply suspicious of social life. He criticizes conformity, shallow taste, and the pressures of institutions, and he repeatedly describes the poet as someone who must step away from ordinary social roles. At one point, he even says the poet must “leave the world” for a time and live close to nature, removed from the Capitol and the Exchange. That makes it sound as though distance from society is almost necessary for clarity and expression.

At the same time, Emerson explicitly refuses to treat society as outside nature. He talks about factory villages, railways, politics, and commerce not as anti-poetic intrusions, but as things that belong to the same larger order as beehives or spider webs, even if they haven’t yet been “consecrated” in our reading of the world. In other words, society doesn’t seem unnatural so much as unread, or symbolically opaque.

This is where I start to feel a tension I’m not sure how to resolve. If society is part of the same natural order Emerson describes, why does expression seem to require distance from it? Why does the poet need to withdraw from social life in order to articulate meanings that supposedly run through all of life, including modern, collective life?

That question leads me to another, related one about individuality. Emerson emphasizes that most people are “only half themselves” until they find expression, but expression itself is always public. Language, symbols, and meaning don’t exist outside a shared world. So can insight really emerge in isolation if it ultimately depends on shared forms of understanding? Or is withdrawal less about escaping society and more about temporarily quieting it in order to return with something that can be shared?

I don’t have a settled take on this yet, and I don’t think Emerson fully resolves it either. He seems to want both things at once: a poet who stands apart from society and a poet who speaks for it, a world where modern social life belongs to nature and a need to step away from that life to truly see it.

I’m curious how others are reading this. Do you see Emerson’s withdrawal as a rejection of society, a strategic distance, or something else entirely? And how do you understand the relationship between individual insight and collective life in this essay?

American Identity in Leaves of Grass (Plus Aaliyah’s History with Walt)

Hello!

I have a complicated history with Walt Whitman (and Emily Dickinson for that matter). A teacher in high school formerly introduced them to me, and, in lack of better words, destroyed my perception of both. He was a bad teacher for a variety of reasons, but the main thing that caused the scandal at my school was his racist micro- and macro-aggressions that more or less involved me. Drama! I know, and honestly this resulted in trauma with how I, as a Black and Asian student, function in English classes, even now.

Anyways—why did I take this class?

Well, this previous teacher of mine made me hate Whitman. I didn’t like the idea of someone speaking for all of America in the 1800s, especially in the arrogant and sweeping way he does. And we had begun the many versions of “Song of Myself” like a million times, and my teacher thought he was a Whitman-type poet and teacher himself, yada yada yada. I thought I could leave both Whitman and Dickinson behind.

But it’s hard to be a poet and not encounter both poets. I also am an American Studies double major and am interested in America’s literary history. And my hatred (if I can even call it that) towards them is too entwined with my personal educational history, I’m curious to see them in a different light.

So here I am giving it another try!

And omg I’m learning so much already!!!

In particular, the origins of Leaves of Grass (as seen on the biography page we were assigned to read). I knew some of this background but not the extent the influence of slavery had on Whitman. Then, I realized my initial uncomfortableness with Whitman back in high school may have stemmed from this:

“While most people were lining up on one side or another, Whitman placed himself in that space—sometimes violent, sometimes erotic, always volatile—between master and slave.”

My feelings towards this is complex, and I’m quite curious to read what Black scholars/writers have written on this (especially with the mentions of Langston Hughes and Yusef Komunyakaa at the end of this page).

But I view how he speaks towards a nationalistic identity during this time as both freeing and constricting. Whitman includes the working man, prostitutes, immigrants, the poor and struggling, Black slaves, and Native Americans into America’s story at a time where they are excluded. But he is also framing these people with his own assumptions of what America should be while speaking as and for everyone.

I also know I’m coming towards Whitman and Dickinson with my own bias (clearly). And I don’t live in their context. But all of these things are in my mind as we venture deeper into these literary giants. How do we define American literature or poetry? Who really is the “I” in America?

Best,

Aaliyah A. (she/her)

Notes from the Grossly Reductive Introduction to Transcendentalism

Hi! I don’t have any crazy thoughts provoking questions or ideas for the blog (at least not yet), but I wasn’t able to be in class week because of a conference I was attending out of town. As I was doing the readings from this past week, as well as reading over the notes a friend (thanks Tanner) sent me from Thursday’s class, I was just wondering what people’s thoughts on transcendentalism, the poets we are studying, and just the general purpose of this course are. What big ideas or important details did you take away from the readings and Thursday’s class?

Based off of the readings, it feels like transcendentalism, and therefore this course and the works we are going to read within it, focus heavily on the idea of humanity and that people’s lives should not be tied to, dependent on, or only fulfilled by conforming to the capitalist society that we live in. To be truly satisfied, we need to have emotion and social connections with one another, which is what WW and ED seem to have used poetry to do; it is a medium through which they can create those connections with others not just for themselves, but for people who read those works and then connect with each other (like us in this course!). I know I’m posting this pretty soon before class tomorrow (sorry Dr. Scanlon…), but any notes or thoughts are super helpful, and I’m excited to actually get to be in class and a part of discussion tomorrow!

Oh, and this one….

Is your analysis of Whitman as a commercial agent changed by the fact that this is a luxury vehicle rather than jeans? As in my prior post (people, seriously, this is turning into Blog of Myself, you have to get on it), what does this commercial say about America? About masculinity? About freedom? Feel free to analyze any specific moments also.

Walt Whitman, Idealism, and Capitalism Walk into a Bar

These ads appeared roughly 15 years ago, and when you’ve done your (excessive, sorry [kind of]) homework for Tuesday, you’ll recognize the first voice. As we consider Whitman’s America, and circa 2010 America, and 2026 America, I invite you to analyze these videos. Is this a portrait of America WW would have recognized? embraced? rejected? Why? Would it matter to Whitman, or does it matter to you, that the poetry, and the Whitmanish slogan, were mobilized to sell jeans (by a massive company worth billions, founded by a German Jewish immigrant that began making jeans for working men during Whitman’s lifetime)? For that matter, is this an America YOU recognize? If the ads are trying to sell both jeans AND a vision of America, what do you make of that vision?

Elisabeth’s CS for January 20th

Hello, Whitmaniacs! Having emerged relatively unscathed from our first encounter with Mister Whitman, here are some general conversation contributions:

Having read two reviews of Whitman’s work, one utterly scathing and one glowing, and then reading Whitman’s poetry right after, I’m inclined to say that neither review is entirely correct because while Whitman’s poetry isn’t my favorite, I don’t count it as unreadable. It’s just sort of there. Do you think either of these reviews are accurate and in what ways? Do you think the identities of the authors, one a man and the other a woman, have anything to do with how Whitman’s work revolted/appealed to them?

(May I just say the paragraph “…it is impossible to imagine how any man’s fancy could have conceived such a mass of stupid filth, unless he were possessed of the soul of a sentimental donkey that had died of disappointed love. This poet (?) without wit, but with a certain vagrant wildness, just serves to show the energy which natural imbecility is occasionally capable of under strong excitement” is absolutely hysterical.)

Whitman (very…very liberally…) uses the free verse to its fullest potential. He repeats beginning words or phrases often, follows no particular rhyme scheme, and his line sequences seldom follow a pattern, if ever. I think it’s interesting that his poems deal so much with freedom and the style itself is called free verse. He speaks of everyone from every walk of life, even unto death which he still hails as some sort of freedom. What is your take away from that? Is there something about his conversational style of poetry and free verse that sounds distinctly “American” in tone to you? (To me it kind of does, and not in a derogatory sense.) Or on the other hand is it just patriotic delusion?

And lastly, how do you think it is that Walt Whitman is able to connect so easily with everyone and everything in his poems, particularly Song of the Open Road? Is it his identity? Love for his country? His poems are broad and sweeping, and it’s almost like he’s a conductor and everyone on the open road is some sort of symphony but then he’s also part of that symphony. Does that make sense? I’m especially curious to know what you guys think of this in particular!

Will You Give Me Your Hand? Will You Come Travel With Me?

Both Walt Whitman and Emily Dickinson believed in the written word not just as an articulation of one’s inner thoughts but, fundamentally, as a way to reach and even touch other people. They lived in an era that saw the nation fracture and turn on itself, massacring its own sons; that adhered to strict classes and saw both the bitter defense of, and legal end to, the abhorrent practice of slavery but not racial oppression; that saw massive national movements of Christian revival when they themselves often met the divine in other ways; that saw Oscar Wilde in England jailed and destroyed by a sexuality the world knew how to punish but not name; that felt the national growing pains of hundreds of thousands of (mostly European) immigrants and a colonization and settlement of western territories; that did not yet offer universal public education to its children. The word–a touch–was a form of connection in a rapidly changing world. And so it shall be for us. Get at it.