Whitman Sells

So while society may now be tempted to buy anything with a celebrity face attached to it, there was a time when Whitman could do pretty much the same thing.

First, there's the Border Bookshop Expresso Bar poster.

Adapted from a picture of Whitman holding a butterfly, the winged insect was replaced with a cup of coffee that Whitman could eternally stare at in contemplation. The message was pretty straight forward. Coffee shops are generally associated with starving artists, writers, etc. So this poster was made to appeal to those masses. Come drink our coffee and become the next great loafer poet!

Next, Camden Grocers Exchange took advantage of our poet's fame.
(Sorry, no visual available. Use your imagination!)
The store offered an assortment of products bearing Whitman's image, including coffee, ice cream, cigars and cigarettes.

Finally, there's our good friends over at Old Crow Whiskey.

Supposedly, in 1891 Whitman received a bottle of Old Crow as a gift, and the company decided that this made Whitman one of their "famous customers". (Also, come on, look at that picture. Who thinks Whitman actually looked like that, ever? Think of his portrait in Leaves of Grass!)

So what have we learned? Well, essentially that the advertising world has not changed one bit. They still like to exploit the famous to make the ordinary believe their product is extraordinary. All that has changed is the type of celebrity most commonly used (Esteemed authors vs. musicians and actors).

Still, I'd buy that coffee if it made me write like Whitman.

Eyes of the Beholders

Let's face it, reading is a very subjective art. An author can have an intention, and that's all fine and dandy. But when it comes down to it, it the the realization (or ignorance) or that intention by the reader that the work is judged by.

The first review I looked at was an anonymous review called "A Curious Title" that appeared in Life Illustrated in July 1855. This was a pretty straightforward review, outlining the format of the book itself. However what I found interesting was the comments on who they felt would be interested in Whitman's work. According to the reviewer, "respectable people would pronounce perfect nonsense", while "free-souled persons" would enjoy the book very much. I'm not saying these comments aren't true, but it's interesting that there is an entire class of people that this commenter says would not find meaning in Whitman's work. Obviously nothing can speak to everyone, but still. It's a very broad statement.

My next review was also anonymous, this time published in The Albion, A Journal of News, Politics and Literature under the title "A Pleasant Quiz". The review was short, but it was the final statement that stuck with me: "its main fault in a literary point of view—that it suggests the notice of a man reviewing his own work—is not of much importance". They fault Whitman for, essentially, writing about his own work. It's interesting that this was considered a fault, when many now find it a captivating subject. 

Finally, one last anonymous (from The Merchant's Magazine and Commercial Review). This was one of my favorite reviews if only because of their acknowledgement of Whitman himself being a remarkable aspect of the book. I also agreed with their views on how the work could be viewed as a whole, or broken down into smaller works of art.

There is a lot to look at when reading poetry, especially if your intention is to judge it and decide it's worth to others. Each review was different, and found different flaws and favors within Leaves of Grass, but none of them were wrong. Because it is individual experience that makes writing poetry; and that is unique for everyone.

Specimen Days IV: Crows and Crows

This is a very simple passage. A scene of Walt resting by a creek after a walk and watching crows fly overhead. It's so simple, so straightforward, that I feel there are many ways you can look at it.

For one, there is the growing darkness in the sky, which we could very easily connect to the growing tensions of the war that Whitman was witnessing. There's also the idea of movement, the crows flying together and part, side to side, etc. They are a symbol of change, which was something else Whitman could relate to. Then, finally, there is the notion of passing. This section ends with the crows flying into the woods, out of sight with only their caws for Whitman to hear. It's kind of optimistic if you think about it, a "this to shall pass" moment to give Whitman hope.

Tweet-a-Week V: Frances Wright

Whitman, while awesome in his sense of free thinking and nonconformity, was not the first of his kind. Neither was Frances Wright, but she did come first. A Scottish activist who proclaimed many of the ideas that Whitman would later absorb and spew back into the world in his own creative way, Wright was one of many major influences on Whitman's life and work. Whitman even saw her speak a few times, and read some of her work. As a young person trying to find his way in the world, I can see how a strong, loud, confident figure like Wright would be an inspiration. She was someone who understood some of the ideals that Whitman felt passionate for, and she helped first put to words those emotions that Whitman would come to express on his own in Leaves of Grass. They are birds of a feather, so it makes sense that they would stick together.

You Were Just Always Talking 'Bout Changing...

Writing has a way of evolving, in many ways. Along with the very broad sense of literature changing over the years, a writer is constantly re-evaluating, reinventing, re-visualizing their own work. This process doesn't stop just because you have been lucky enough to be published. If anything, I would think that would make it worse. People can actually read your stuff now! The desire to make it absolutely perfect probably increases tenfold.

Whitman was not exempt from this. In each new addition of Leaves of Grass, Whitman makes subtle edits, always striving to make it that much better. Even something as (seemingly) simple as changing the title of a piece can have a major effect. For example, the one that stood out the most to me was how Song of Myself became Poem of Walt Whitman, An American in the 1856 version. That title is so much more specific. "Myself" could be anyone, it could be whoever you the reader want, whether that be Walt, yourself, your neighbor; you are given much more freedom of interpretation. But now, it's Walt Whitman. But he doesn't stop there, oh no. He's Walt Whitman, An American. Knowing the times that Whitman lived through, that is a very powerful statement. Think about it. He's not a Northerner or a Southerner, which was probably a big deal at that time. He's an American, part of a whole, part of something big and great and idealistic.


I think that as the years went on, Whitman not only learned about his poem, his writing style; he learned about himself. Which, considering the fact that he was writing "A Song of Himself", is a major factor. The more he learns about himself, the clear the vision for what he wants to express. And that's the beauty of revision. Constant growth.

Tweet-a-Week IV: Bowery B'hoys

((Oh no. Illness setting in. Quick post QUICK POST.))

So Bowey B'hoys were apparently a New York gang in the mid 19th century. Nativist, anti-Catholic, anti-Irish, flashy and violent, they made quite a still during their time.

From what I can tell, Whitman could have at the very least related to these boys in the sense that they were going against the norm, fighting the expectations of those higher up than them. the boys were also primarily single males, so there's a kind of sexual freedom there that Whitman seemed fond of. They also had a heavy influence on language, coming up with their own distinct slang, and anyone interested in creative writing or literature can appreciate those who have power over language.

All-in-all, they were a very outspoken group, that could relate to our poet simply by making a statement.

((...Oh my head...))

I'd Rather Be Blue

Whitman made lots of notes on his own work, and hey, who doesn't? Really, no one is ever satisfied with what you make. There's always something you think you can do to make it better. Ah, the curse of art.

Anywho, I found the annotations on page 51 of The Blue Book to be quite interesting. Admittedly this page is not as note heavy as was probably ideal, but there were two things I found interesting.

First, was Whitman's decision to change the "e" in "earth" from a capitol to a lower-case. A capitol "Earth", seems more... I don't know, formal? Respectful? It's a proper noun, a name, it's giving a bit more life to it, I feel. Almost as if you are talking about a person. Which , if you look at the line, almost makes more sense.

"Far-swooping, elbowed Earth! Rich, apple-blossomed
        Earth!
Smile, for YOUR LOVER comes!" (Blue Book version)

Whitman is speaking of/ to the earth as a personified figure. So really, it would make sense to capitalize the "e". So I find it curious that he decided to change that, to take away that little bit of extra personification. (Although apparently he agreed, because the 1860 version capitalizes the "e" again. Curiouser and curiouser).

Next, in Whitman's notes, he completely crosses out the following line:

"Thruster holding me tight, and that I hold tight!
We hurt each other as the bridegroom and the bride
         hurt each other."

And yet, this line still appears in the 1855 and the 1860 version almost completely unchanged. HOWEVER, the line is removed in the 1867 version. While not my favorite line in the poem, I wonder what it is about it that bothered Whitman. Or even more, what saved it for those first two versions. Cutting out an entire stanza is a tough choice for a writer. And to go back and forth like that means that there had to have been something about it that both bothered Whitman and spoke to him, because he only ever included it, or removed it. He never changed it.

I dunno. I find it interesting...