Plagiarism Carnival #2

...Although, by this point, perhaps it would be more appropriate to forget about carnivals, and start in on the "Masque of the Red Death" references.I thought it was about time for yet another update on the "Raven's Bride"/"Very Young Mrs. Poe" plagiarism case, for the benefit of newcomers to this blog and anyone not following the latest news on Twitter. (Note to St. Martin's Press--despite your fondest hopes, this story is not going to go away anytime soon.)

Archie Valparaiso, the hardest-working man in show business, is the major contributer to this edition of the Carnival. First, he makes a further examination of Lenore Hart's "I just used the same historical sources" excuse and finds that it is, well, all wet.

Next, he looks at the "It's all just coincidence that the two novels share at least 57 similar passages!" argument, and does the math.

In this post, Mr. Valparaiso ponders, weak and weary, the mystery of SMP's inexplicable determination to stick to a long and embarrassing public cover-up all to protect a little-known, lightweight fiction writer whose novels are evidently about as popular as IRS audits. He takes a closer look at Ms. Hart's husband, a considerably more successful author, and unearths some interesting information. David Poyer may turn out to be the crucial figure in this whole scandal.

Salon magazine recently held an online symposium on "What is plagiarism," featuring, among others, Jeremy Duns and Dennis Johnson of Melville House. "The Raven's Bride" is among the cases discussed.

IThenticate, a plagiarism detection software company, included Ms. Hart's little masterpiece among their "Best of 2011 Plagiarism Events." The blog includes this highly suggestive comment: "I sense a deja vu here, and feel this will be an ongoing story in 2012, as St. Martin's Press takes a look at her other work and determines whether their stance remains the same."

Probably the most notable development to date is that New York's Norman Mailer Center and Writers Colony, a nonprofit educational institution where Lenore Hart teaches creative writing (!), has suspended its connection with her pending what it hopes will be an "early resolution" of the "issues" that have arisen concerning her work. One wonders what "resolution" they expect to see.

I honestly have no idea if the Mailer Center is sincere in this expressed desire to keep their distance from a writer with "issues"--if this is the case, my guess is that Ms. Hart may as well permanently kiss the place goodbye right now--or if the statement is merely a public face-saving cover story, designed to get people off its back until the whole issue eventually dies. We shall see.

Well, that's it for now, folks. It's amazing to realize that it's been nearly a year since that fateful day when I settled down to read my just-arrived-in-the-mail copy of a new Poe novel. During that time, the "issues" surrounding the book have become bigger and stranger than anything I ever could have imagined, and who knows where it all may end. To quote an old tune that's long been a sort of personal anthem of mine, "I can't help but wonder where I'm bound."

(Images via New York Public Library, Wikipedia)

Plagiarism Carnival #1

“We repeat that ‘somebody is a thief,’ and the only doubt in our mind is about the sincerity of any one who shall say that somebody is not.”
-Edgar Allan Poe, “Plagiarism,” the Evening Mirror, February 17, 1845

I thought it was time to hold a (nearly) end-of-week wrap-up of the latest developments in the ever odd and contentious "Raven's Bride" saga. There have been times lately when I find myself picturing this:

Or perhaps this:In any case, here's a sampling of the most recent online commentary on the controversy:

The Christian Science Monitor gives us Plagiarism's Greatest Hits, with a special guest appearance by "The Raven's Bride."

Archie Valparaiso and Jeremy Duns both examine one of the main arguments Lenore Hart has made in her defense, and find a real train wreck.

Ellis Shuman sees a resemblance between "The Raven's Bride" and an earlier plagiarism case.

A poster at an online discussion forum for writers explains it all: Spectral writing!

The Left Room looks at the attitude St. Martin's Press has taken and wonders, "Surely St Martin’s can’t really expect people to be satisfied with that, or for the whole thing to just… go away?"

Lloyd Shepherd offers some colorful musings on the Impenetrable Skin of the Plagiarist.

Dennis Johnson of Melville House, who has been following this story for some time now, weighs in with vivid style. He also contributes the more-painful-than-plagiarism detail that "Raven's Bride" has sold a whopping 548 copies to date, at least half of which, I'll wager, were bought by people who have heard of this dispute and wished to do their own forensic examination of the book. Ms. Hart should be thanking us for all this free publicity. (And while you're visiting MH, do check out their Adopt-a-Penguin program. Greatest book-promotion idea ever.)

Lit Reactor presents us with the Five Lame Excuses For Plagiarism. Our Lenore is #3 with a bullet.

And finally, the other day on Amazon Mr. Duns found himself in an increasingly strange showdown with a remarkably, ah, excitable friend and colleague of Hart's. At least one of "Red Radiator's" comments--the most vulgar of the lot--has already been deleted by Amazon (she should be grateful to them for that,) but you can still read this discussion thread.

Her responses to Duns' attempts to have a reasoned debate over the book are remarkably similar to the ones I encountered from Hart's myrmidons some months ago, when I first drew attention to "The Raven's Bride." For me, the strangest part of this story is not only that she has a pack of online Baghdad Bobs willing to fight her dismal personal battles for her, but that they all seem to read their lines from the same peculiar script. Ironically, their arguments on her behalf--largely characterized as they are by illogicality and personal attacks--do absolutely nothing to add to Hart's credibility. Indeed, they only serve to highlight the weakness of her case, and alienate spectators who might otherwise be neutral or even sympathetic. As the old saying goes, with "friends" like these, she has no need whatsoever for enemies.

Speaking of odd scripts, I shall end with a link to St. Martin's statement, such as it is, on the entire rumpus. What I find most interesting about their very brief remarks is that they carefully avoid saying that anyone at SMP has compared "The Raven's Bride," and "The Very Young Mrs. Poe," for themselves. They make it clear that they are basing their public belief in Hart's innocence entirely on this 18,000 word defense she wrote some months ago--a defense that Jeremy Duns succinctly described as "astonishing and utterly bonkers." In other words, they appear to be aiming for "plausible deniability," where, if need be, they can excuse themselves from any responsibility in the matter by saying they were guilty of nothing more than trusting their author. SMP appears to be tacitly admitting that they realize they cannot get away with saying they themselves read the two novels, and still found no alarming similarities between them.

Update 12/17: Over on Jeremy Duns' blog, Lawrence Block, whom Duns describes as "one of the great crime novelists of our age," offers his opinion on "The Raven's Bride," and St. Martin's stubborn efforts to acknowledge the obvious. "What this woman has done, clearly, is sit down with a book and rewrite it."

We shall see where things go from here. In the meantime, believe it or not, one of these days I will tear myself away from contemporary literary scandals and come up with a post that is actually about Edgar Allan Poe. Although, as I have said before, I think Edgar himself would have had the time of his life with this. Longfellow wasn't a patch on Lenore Hart.

In Which We Recall the Old Saying, "It's Not the Crime, It's the Cover-Up"

"But the man who shall deny the plagiarism abstractly--what is it that he calls upon us to believe?...Now the chances that these...coincidences, so peculiar in character...the chances, I say, that these coincidences are merely accidental, may be estimated, possibly, as about one to one hundred millions; and any man who reasons at all, is of course grossly insulted in being called upon to credit them as accidental."
-Edgar Allan Poe, "More of the Voluminous History of the Little Longfellow War," Broadway Journal, March 22, 1845

In today's episode of that "Raven's Bride"-inspired soap opera, "As the Plagiarist Turns":

As we have seen, St. Martin's efforts to deal with the plagiarism charges being brought against Lenore Hart's Poe novel have consisted of stonewalling, followed by denial and obfuscation. As a lovely little example of "unintended consequences," this curious PR campaign has not only gained them some much-deserved online mockery, but it has brought the controversy to the attention of first, the Associated Press, and now, the New York Times.

I find it particularly interesting that, according to the Times, "St. Martin's declined to make Ms. Hart available," which indicates that SMP is at least familiar with the First Rule of Holes.

Very good work, Mr. Duns, and thank you. You are clearly a troublemaker and rabblerouser after my own heart.

(P.S. Just for the benefit of newcomers, here's The Post That Started It All.)

St. Martin's Press Channels Their Inner Outis, With Predictable Results

I think this news story speaks for itself. (Yes, the whole "Raven's Bride" kerfuffle has now drawn the attention of the Associated Press.) Such a response is sad, but given St. Martin's overall attitude, not unexpected. However, judging by the response it's been getting from the online community, I suspect this "see no evil" tactic will backfire on the Flatiron Building, sooner rather than later.

In response, all I can do is offer some more words of wisdom from Mr. Poe himself: "To attempt the rebutting of a charge of plagiarism by the broad assertion that no such thing as plagiarism exists, is a sotticism, and no more."

Lenore Hart, the Guardian...and World of Poe

Regarding that column in today's Guardian : Hart claims that I have “made a crusade of attacking anyone who writes about Poe.” No. I have read enough about Poe, and done enough research into his life to know that he has often been maligned by history. I try to correct misrepresentations and lies, and those are what I attack. I don’t think of myself as someone who attacks others for sport. (Incidentally, anyone reading this blog’s archives will notice that there are writers--both in fiction and nonfiction--that I’ve gratefully praised. It is particularly ironic that Hart would make this charge, as when I first heard of her book, I posted that I hoped I would like it, and at first--before I reread “Young Mrs. Poe”--I did like certain things about her novel, and said so.)

Hart also says, “if you know the sources…then you certainly might say, I and the previous author are both guilty of sticking to our sources.” You certainly might say anything you want, but the truth is that, as there is very little historical documentation about Virginia Poe, Cothburn O’Neal fabricated much of his book from whole cloth. As I have said before, he invented several incidents which were reproduced in Hart’s novel--incidents which do not appear in any “sources.” I am curious to know if Hart can produce any specific examples where I criticized her for merely “sticking to our sources.”

When Hart accuses me of posting text that was “altered, edited, and in some cases even transposed…to make it more closely resemble [O’Neal]” I take offense. Many of the words I copied don’t just resemble O’Neal’s, they’re identical. I, as well as the friend who helped me compile the quotations I used, want only to present an honest and unbiased case, not start a “crusade.” I have repeatedly urged everyone interested in this issue to read the two novels themselves, and come to their own conclusions. However, if Hart can give me any specific examples of where I erred in describing her book, I will instantly and humbly apologize. Unlike some writers, I am always ready to concede when I am in the wrong.

P.S. I'm reminded of yet another passage Poe wrote during his "Little Longfellow War":

“But to be serious; if Outis has his own private reasons for being disgusted with what he terms the ‘wholesale mangling of victims without rhyme or reason,’ there is not a man living, of common sense and common honesty, who has not better reason (if possible) to be disgusted with the insufferable cant and shameless misrepresentation practiced habitually by just such persons as Outis, with the view of decrying by sheer strength of lungs--of trampling down--of rioting down--of mobbing down any man with a soul that bids him come out from among the general corruption of our public press, and take his stand upon the open ground of rectitude and honor.”

“The Outises who practice this species of bullyism…are either the ‘victims without rhyme or reason who have been mangled by wholesale,’ or they are the relatives, or the relatives of the relatives of the ‘victims without rhyme or reason who have been mangled by wholesale.’ Their watchwords are ‘carping littleness,’ ‘envious malignity,’ and ‘personal abuse.’ Their low artifices are insinuated calumnies, and indefatigable whispers of regret, from post to pillar, that ‘Mr. So-and-So, or Mr. This-and-That will persist in rendering himself so dreadfully unpopular’--no one, in the meantime, being more thoroughly and painfully aware than these very Outises, that the unpopularity of the just critic who reasons his way, guiltless of dogmatism, is confined altogether within the limits of the influence of the victims without rhyme and reason who have been mangled by wholesale.”

–“Imitation--Plagiarism,” “Broadway Journal” March 29, 1845

The Tell-Tale Hart

Apologies to anyone getting bored by the fact that this blog seems to have morphed into “Plagiarism ‘R’ Us,” but I wanted to summarize the progress of “The Raven’s Bride”/”The Very Young Mrs. Poe” affair. (AKA The Case of the Purloined Novel.)

As the old-timers around this blog may remember, the whole mess started back in February 2011, when I read Lenore Hart’s newly-published novel, “The Raven’s Bride.” At first, I liked it well enough—particularly compared to the excruciatingly insulting drivel that is the average Poe novel—but as I read further, I realized parts of the book seemed oddly reminiscent of another novel about Virginia Poe that I had read some years earlier, Cothburn O’Neal’s “The Very Young Mrs. Poe.” I exhumed my copy of O’Neal’s book, and the more I read, the more stunned I became. I realized I was looking at something very strange indeed. I shared my discovery at Goodreads and other book sites that were discussing Hart’s novel.

At this point, one of the weirdest developments in this very weird tale emerged. From out of nowhere, a group of newly-registered posters emerged at all these places, touting “Raven’s Bride” as the greatest thing to hit publishing since Gutenberg and attacking me as some sort of delusional crackpot for daring to say one word against this obvious masterpiece. These were obviously all personal friends of Hart’s, but seeing such hyperbolic enthusiasm being used in such an obviously unworthy cause was a bizarre experience. I had never before seen a third-rate scribbler with a claque.

These sycophantic trolls made the mistake of annoying me. Ironically, if they had only left me alone—or at least been a bit more civil—I probably would have let the matter drop. Instead, out of a sense of self-defense, I was compelled to write a blog post, “My Little Longfellow War,” where I detailed some of the more egregious “similarities” between the two books, just as proof that I was not making the whole thing up. (I later compiled more “similarities” here and here.)

My post was noticed by a couple of the book blogs, but this was not enough to bring the controversy to any sort of widespread attention. I wrote to St. Martin’s Press, Hart’s publisher, but they never replied. I admit that I was a bit puzzled by this apparent indifference to my discovery, as previous cases of plagiarism, such as the one involving the romance novelist Cassie Edwards, inspired immediate public outcry. However, not knowing what else to do, I just shrugged it off as part of the “ways of the world,” although I retained in the back of my mind a slight feeling of irritation that Hart had “gotten away with it”…and I also wondered how many other writers had pulled off the same stunt.

Then, the case of the plagiarized spy novel “Assassin of Secrets” hit the news, becoming a major scandal in the publishing industry. Just on a whim, I left comments at several online stories about “Assassin,” mentioning “Raven’s Bride” as an overlooked example of what was beginning to look like a plague of plagiarism.

Enter novelist Jeremy Duns. He had played a role in the “Assassin of Secrets” unmasking, and when he read my comments, he was sufficiently curious to look into the matter. He came across “My Little Longfellow War,” and thankfully for us all, he was inspired to put on his Superman cape and see that justice was finally done. As an established author, he had the credibility and influence that an unknown, eccentric, pseudonymous Poe blogger lacked.

He wrote about the matter on his own blog, as well as Twitter, giving his opinion that what Hart did was unquestionably literary thievery. He also contacted St. Martin’s, and spoke to others about Hart’s book, in the hope of finally making her actions publicly known. (There was also an utterly surreal confrontation with Hart on her Facebook page, where the lady demonstrated debating tactics that Orwell’s Ministry of Truth would have envied.) He’s become the hero of this sorry little story.

So…where do things stand, to date? Who knows? So far, St. Martin’s is ignoring Duns as completely as they ignored me. (I learned from Duns that at least one other person had also alerted the publishers about "Raven's Bride," to no avail.) Hart is still evidently hoping to continue to ride out the storm by attempting to befuddle us into ignoring the obvious. “Raven’s Bride” is still on the bookshelves, and I assume people are still buying it, unaware they are purchasing questionable goods. O’Neal’s novel is still under copyright, but unfortunately he died a few years ago. If he left any heirs to his literary estate, as far as I know they have yet to weigh in on the matter. “Vox populi” is our only hope of coming to any sort of resolution in this dispute. If you have read my posts on the issue, or if you have read these two novels for yourself, and agree that there is mischief afoot, all I can say is: Speak out. Spread the word. Let’s make ourselves so noisy and obnoxious (something that comes easily enough for yours truly) that St. Martin’s can no longer sweep the business under the rug. Without public exposure, I fear that cases like "The Raven's Bride" will become commonplace. (As an aside, for anyone who has the time and/or curiosity, Hart's previous novels might be worth investigating...)

If in the future I have any updates, I’ll add them to this post. In the meantime, we should all feel grateful to Jeremy Duns for taking the time from his own busy career to right what he sees as an obvious wrong. I’m sure that Edgar himself, wherever he is now, certainly does. The General of the original "Little Longfellow War” must be enjoying all this immensely.

Update 11/21: We've made the Guardian!

Update II: Archie Valparaiso compiled Hart's most egregious "similarities" to O'Neal's book into one document, including a few examples not included in my blog posts. (Thank you!)

Quote of the Day

“…if the theft had to be committed ‘in open day’ it would not be committed; if the thief ‘knew’ that everyone would cry him down, he would be too excessive a fool to make even a decent thief if he indulged his thieving propensities in any respect. But he thieves at night--in the dark--not in the open day (if he suspects it), and he does not know that he will be detected at all. Of the class of willful plagiarists nine out of ten are authors of established reputation, who plunder recondite, neglected, or forgotten books.”

-Edgar Allan Poe, "Imitation--Plagiarism," “Broadway Journal,” March 8, 1845

...Stay tuned.

The Return of The Raven's Bride!

Just when you thought it was safe to go back in the bookstores...

Life is getting interesting.

The Philosophy of Keywords; Or, What Hath Google Wrought?

Allow me to present a few of the recent search terms that have led people to my doorstep:

sarah helen whitman is alive
sarah helen power whitman's children with edgar allan poe
ida grey furniture
was edgar allan poe vegan
hazards of harts
Heywood Summer Undine

Here's one that sums up this entire blog in only three words:

poe scholarship depressing

In all seriousness, I'd really like to know what this person is researching

rufus w griswold poe's wife poison

My personal favorite:

poe killed by family of stella anna lewis

Or maybe it's this:

Elizabeth Poe was pecked to death by crows

And people wonder why Poe drank.

edgar allan poe girl in ashland va

Ashland, a town in the Richmond metro area, has a very confused legend that an anonymous local girl, "a daughter of the Sheltons" was the inspiration for "Lenore."

Folk ballads from the World of Edgar Allan Poe blog

Pleased to oblige.
I actually own a copy of this record, and believe it or not, it's pretty good, if you've ever wondered what it would be like if Roderick Usher hosted a hootenanny

James P. Moss edgar allan poe's friend

Moss makes only one known appearance in the World of Poe, but it is a strange and possibly crucial one indeed. Poe's biographer Arthur H. Quinn provided the most detailed account of this man's story. Quinn heard of him from a friend of his named Dallas Fuguet. Fuguet, in turn, got his account from his cousin Thomas H. Lane (the same man who presided over the demise of the "Broadway Journal.") Lane's aunt was married to Moss. According to this Quinn-via-Fuguet-via-Lane-via-Moss story, Poe stopped off at Philadelphia in 1849, en route for New York. He became ill while there, and was brought to the home of Moss, who was a friend of his. Poe left the next morning, still feeling poorly but insisting that he was able to continue his journey home. Lane assumed that Poe, in his weakened and possibly confused condition, accidentally took the wrong train, which explained how he wound up in Baltimore.

This is a plausible story, to a certain extent, but unfortunately is full of enough hearsay to choke an elephant. We have no way of judging Moss' credibility--or even if he truly was a friend of Poe's. It is impossible to say how this story may have become distorted through these multiple retellings over the years. Quinn himself was obviously a bit dubious about his own anecdote, noting that it was "improbable but not impossible" that he took the wrong route. However, passengers traveling from Philadelphia to New York would first take a ferry to Camden, New Jersey, and then continue the rest of the trip by rail. Quinn noted dryly that "he must have been in very poor shape not to notice that he was taking an omnibus instead of a boat!"

The Moss story is frustrating. If true, it would at least partially fill in those "blank days" between Poe's departure from Richmond and his mysterious appearance in Baltimore. However, the utter lack of first-hand corroboration makes the tale impossible to fully trust.

Practically every day I see search terms that pursue one particular topic, all of them variations on the following:

lenore hart plagiarism
raven's bride plagiarism
raven's bride very young mrs poe
undine raven's bride

Well, if you insist. Back by popular demand, a few more comparisons--all in the interests of "fair use"--between Lenore Hart's "The Raven's Bride" and Cothburn O'Neal's "The Very Young Mrs. Poe":

Poe, Virginia, and Mrs. Clemm take rooms at Mrs. Yarrington's boardinghouse

O'Neal: "The house, near the southeastern corner of the Capitol grounds, was very much like Mrs. Poore's, set back on a wide lawn with the same Greek portico, the same half-glazed doors. Tom entered without knocking, as Eddy had done, and rang the bell."

Hart: "Mrs. Yarrington's looked so much like Mrs. Poore's...The same neat square of clipped yard and long painted portico, the same half-glazed doors, and Thomas swept in without knocking as if he lived there as well."

O'Neal: "'Mr. Poe is assistant editor of the Southern Literary Messenger,' Tom went on. 'He has been staying with us, but now that his aunt and cousin have come to live with him, Mrs. Poore doesn't have room for all three of them. We thought you might--.'" "No doubt she thought that Tom's 'we' had included Mrs. Poore as well."

Hart: "He [Tom Cleland] called down the landlady and introduced us. 'Mr. Poe is, ah, assistant editor at the Southern Literary Messenger, and--well, my mother-in-law hasn't room for, uh, the three of them. So we thought you might.'" "This was very clever, for that we made it sound as if Mrs. Poore herself had sent and thus approved of us."

When--in both books--Mrs. Yarrington tells them that she has a large front room for the ladies and an adjoining one for Mr. Poe, Eddy replies

O'Neal: "'My aunt will decide. Would you show them to her, please?'"

Hart: "'My aunt, Mrs. Clemm, will decide. Would you show the rooms to her, please?'"

Mrs. Yarrington accepts them as tenants:

O'Neal: "'I don't usually rent rooms to women. You never know what you are taking in. But, of course, a widow--I presume you are a widow--and her daughter--a lovely child, I might say--with a male member of the family to look after them. Well, that's different. And with Mr. Poe working for Mr. White on the Messenger. I have two other men on the Messenger living here. They're quiet, hard working, no trouble at all."

Hart: "'I don't usually let to females. But as you are a respectable widow...and with Mr. Poe, a male relative, here to protect the two of you...I have other lodgers who work at Mr. White's establishment. Quiet, hardworking men. No trouble at all."

In both books, Virginia muses over the strangeness of her life

O'Neal: "After they were gone Sissy sat alone before the fire. She tried to read, but she could not keep her mind on a book. Instead her thoughts traveled back over what her life had been with Eddy. It was like a long thin ribbon, sometimes twisted into knots, sometimes into pleasant little bows; or it was a narrow stream winding tortuously through straits and deep, restricted gorges which only occasionally offered a view of wider, happier places."

Hart: "So I sat by the fire waiting, drowsing in the heat, thinking about where our lives had led us. It seemed to me much like the course of the rocky Wissahickon River--sometimes a narrow, constricted stream, at others a wider, wilder torrent rushing on, carving its way tortuously through deep gorges which offered occasionally a glimpse of something finer, more pleasant--such as a country road, or a tame elk."

St. Martin's Press must be so proud. Incidentally, I have forgotten to mention that "The Raven's Bride" is also the name of Elizabeth Crook's 1991 novel about the wife of another famous 19th century figure, Sam Houston. Yes, my friends, even the title is a rerun.


(Header image courtesy New York Public Library.)

History Is Not the Only Thing That Repeats Itself

"Is this plagiarism or is it not?--I merely ask for information."
-Edgar Allan Poe, "Marginalia"

Sorry for the lack of activity this week. My computer had some sort of wardrobe malfunction that stripped off what I had planned to post yesterday, and "real life" events are delaying me from rewriting it all. While I put Humpty Dumpty back together again, I couldn't resist presenting you, just for fun, with a brief encore from my last post. Here are a few more "Raven's Bride"/"Very Young Mrs. Poe" comparisons:

The scene: The newly-married Edgar and Virginia are on the train to Petersburg...

O'Neal: "As the train pulled out of the depot and onto the bridge across the James River, Eddy pointed out Gamble's Hill rising to the right above the State Armory and the ironworks situated on the banks of the canal. He shouted the names into her ear. But when the train stopped for a few minutes outside Manchester, just across the river, they were both mute again."

Hart: "As we chugged away from the confines of Richmond, Eddy leaned over and shouted the names of landmarks into my ear: 'Gamble's Hill. The State Armory, there. Oh--and the Tredegar Iron Works.' By the time we stopped briefly at Manchester, on the opposite side of the James River, he'd fallen silent again, either out of names or out of breath."

O'Neal: "Sissy was sure that she could smell the blossoms in spite of the wood smoke which funneled out of the locomotive stack and sometimes swirled around the ladies' coach, stinging her eyes and bringing on fits of coughing. Whenever anything seemed to mar her comfort Eddy's eyes would become filled with anxiety, but she would smile, and, if the ladies were not looking, reach for his hand and give it a reassuring squeeze."

Hart: "Sometimes smoke swirled around inside the car like an evil genie, stinging our eyes and making us cough. Whenever that happened Eddy bent to me with concern, until I smiled and shook my head to let him know I was fine." "During the rare moments the ladies weren't looking our way, I'd slide a hand along the seat behind the swell of my skirts, capture Eddy's fingers, and give a quick squeeze."

The newlyweds arrive in Petersburg for their honeymoon, where they are greeted by their hosts, Mr. and Mrs. Hiram Haines:

O'Neal: "'Welcome to Petersburg,' Mr. Haines said jovially."
Hart: "'Welcome to Petersburg, Mrs. Poe,' he [Haines] boomed."

O'Neal: "'Did the trip tire you, Mrs. Poe?' Mrs. Haines asked as her husband clucked the horses into motion. 'No. I enjoyed it very much.' 'Of course. Imagine my asking a bride if a train trip tired her on her wedding day. They didn't have trains when I was married. We rode all day in a stagecoach. But I don't think I was tired either.'"

Hart: "Hiram Haines asked whether the trip had tired me out. 'No, not a bit,' I assured him." "Mrs. Haines laughed. 'Pshaw. She can't possibly be tired, Mr. Haines. Remember back when we wed? There were no trains then so we rode all day long on a stagecoach to our honeymoon cottage. And yet I was not fatigued, not one little bit!"

Enough. I'm starting to feel like Bill Murray in "Groundhog Day." See you next week, when, I swear it, things will get back to what passes for normal around here. In the meantime, let me leave everyone with a question that has been nagging at me ever since I did this little experiment of reading both these novels simultaneously. I have yet to find a solution to the mystery; perhaps one of you will have better luck. What I would like answered is this:

What in hell was Lenore Hart thinking??!!

My Little Longfellow War

"Is it altogether impossible that a critic be instigated to the exposure of a plagiarism, or still better, of plagiarism generally wherever he meets it, by a strictly honorable and even charitable motive?"
-Edgar Allan Poe, "Mr. Longfellow and Other Plagiarists"

Yes, one more "Raven's Bride" post. Not to fear, I'll be getting back to regularly scheduled programming next week or so. But my observations that many parts of this novel are a virtual cut-and-paste job from "The Very Young Mrs. Poe" have caused a certain amount of, shall we say, unrest in some quarters. Much to my amusement, I've even acquired my very own Outis--although he is hardly of the same caliber as his distinguished predecessor. As a result, I wanted to post a short "reader's guide" listing a sampling of the too-close-to-be-coincidental resemblances between the two novels. I won't list all the exact resemblances I've found--I'm sure they'd be as tedious for you to read as they were for me to compile--but enough for my point to be made.There are entire episodes these two books have in common, which are too lengthy to quote verbatim. Mind you--and this is a point I cannot emphasize enough--I am not speaking of episodes that both writers merely repeated from historical sources. It is, of course, a given that biographical novels about the same person will repeat many of the same incidents of that person's life. I am saying that Lenore Hart's novel repeats events that Cothburn O'Neal invented out of whole cloth. In other words, she used another work of fiction as her main source. For instance, history tells us that when Poe returned to Richmond in the summer of 1835, he stayed at a boardinghouse run by a Mrs. Poore. In October of that year, when he brought Mrs. Clemm and Virginia to live with him in that city, the two women lodged with a Mrs. Yarrington. It is not clear if Poe lived in the same boardinghouse with them, or returned to Mrs. Poore's. That is all we know.

O'Neal expanded upon these few details, creating a scene where the trio arrive at Mrs. Poore's, hoping to find rooms. She refuses to let them in the house. Poe is utterly puzzled by her attitude, but the implication is that her hostility is due to Poe's drunkenness while he lived there. Thomas Cleland then helpfully leads them to Mrs. Yarrington's, where they all take lodgings. These imaginary details--including their initial walk through Richmond to Mrs. Poore's and the description of the room Virginia and her mother are given at the Yarrington house--are all repeated in Hart's book."The Raven's Bride" is even peppered with lines of dialogue and descriptive passages that were copied only from "The Very Young Mrs. Poe." (The main difference is that, while both novels are told from Virginia's viewpoint, "The Raven's Bride" is directly narrated by her.) Some examples from the opening chapters of each book:

In both novels, when Virginia first meets "Eddy" she is a small girl who arrives home after playing with two French neighbor girls.

O'Neal: "...making puppet motions with her hands and repeating the words to a gamesong they had been playing..."

Hart: "...making the sweeping hand motions that went along with our last shared song..."

She comes in to be introduced to her cousin:

O'Neal: "A stranger was sitting...before the empty fireplace, talking to Granny Poe, who was propped up on her couch as usual."

Hart: "Granny Poe was propped up on her settee by the fire, a sight which I'd expected."

In both novels Sissy feels "shy" as she approaches him.

In both novels "Eddy" remarks to her how much he likes her black curls and black eyes.

Later in both books, "Sissy" and "Muddy" are shown on the Light Street Wharf in Baltimore, ready to travel to Richmond. Muddy remarks to her daughter:

O'Neal: "I hope Eddy gets a letter...I'd feel better...if he had had some word from Mr. White."

Hart: "I do wish Eddy had received another letter from Mr. White."

Same scene:

O'Neal: "Sissy felt like hugging her mother. But it was such a public place, so many people around...That would look childish." (She wanted to live up to the chic traveling dress Maria had made for her.)

Hart: "For a moment I wanted to cling to my mother...But people were thronging all around us. Such behavior would look so childish..." (Even the dark traveling dress Muddy had cut down and restitched would not be sufficient to mark her as a grown woman.)

O'Neal: "She [Virginia] turned to look out across the basin toward Federal Hall."

Hart: "I turned away to look out across the basin toward Federal Hall."

O'Neal: "The docks...looked like a forest bare of leaves, the tall masts and spiky yards of...clippers standing naked...resting between trips to Brazil."

Hart: "Clipper ships...[with]...tall naked masts and spiky yards were bare of sails, their snarl of lines a thick forest without leaves...resting between dashes to Brazil and New York and Cuba."

O'Neal: "...his [Eddy's] plain black suit amid the colorful clothes...was all to his advantage. His fine head and scholarly demeanor set him apart."

Hart: "Eddy's black sack coat, black trousers...his broad pale forehead...set him apart to advantage."

O'Neal: "...there was no one on the pier to see them off, since they had already said good-bye to the family. Sissy waved anyway...she could wave farewell to Baltimore."

Hart: "There was no one to say good-bye and see us off...we'd already written or called on the few family and friends left in Baltimore....I waved from my spot at the rail...'She's waving good-bye to Baltimore,' he said..."

O'Neal: "The boat from Norfolk to Richmond was smaller and slower than the one they had boarded in Baltimore. The trip up the James River was more leisurely, too..."

Hart: "The boat we boarded in Norfolk to continue on to Richmond was smaller and a good deal slower than the Baltimore Line steamer. Our trip up the James was more leisurely too."

O'Neal: "Beyond ...the confluence of the Appomattox, the James grew narrower and wound in great loops around Bermuda Hundred."

Hart: "Beyond the confluence of the Appomattox, the James grew narrower and wound in great loops around Bermuda Hundred."

On their arrival in Richmond, Eddy describes Mrs. Poore's boardinghouse.

O'Neal: "She has a large house. There's always room."

Hart: "It's a large house. There's always space."

O'Neal: "The docks were busy, and the wagonette was held up now and then by dray wagons loaded with hogsheads of tobacco and sacks of flour and cornmeal. Sometimes an empty collier's wagon rumbled toward the coal yards...farther upstream."

Hart: "...the docks were very busy. We would lurch forward, only to stop for a dray loaded with sacks of flour and cornmeal, or an empty collier's wagon rumbling...toward the coal yards upstream."

The trio arrives at Mrs. Poore's (and, keep in mind that there is no detailed historical description of the house):

O'Neal: "'This is Capitol Square,' he said. 'Mrs. Poore's house is the next one here on Bank Street.'" "They turned into the yard of a large two-story brick house with a Greek portico fronting in the square. The half-paned front door revealed a well lighted hallway inside. Eddy climbed the steps and opened the door without knocking, just as though he still lived there."

Hart: "'Capitol Square,' he said. 'Mrs. Poore's is the next house on Bank Street.'" "We turned into the yard of a two-story brick structure with a whitewashed Greek portico facing the neatly-planted square. Within lay a wide, well-lighted hall. Eddy opened the door without even ringing a bell or knocking." "'Well, he used to live here,' I whispered."

In both books, the little family gets a negative reception (again, a scene that does not exist in the historical record):

O'Neal: "There was a wait, then the sound of a door opening upstairs. 'What was that, Tom?' a voice shrilled. 'I say Mr. Poe is back--' 'That's what I thought you said,' the voice interrupted. 'Well, you can tell him I don't have a vacancy and I'm not likely to have one.' The door slammed shut....'She doesn't have a vacancy,' he [Cleland] said with a grin. Eddy looked helplessly from Tom to Maria to Sissy and back to Tom. 'What are we to do?' he asked, of anybody."

Hart: "A door creaked shrilly on protesting hinges upstairs, and an equally high voice called down, 'What was that, Tom?'...'I said Edgar Poe is back, and he--' 'That's what I thought you said," the woman shouted. 'Well, you can tell him for me, I do not have lodgings for him, and am not likely to have any now or later!' The hinges squealed derisively as the door slammed again...Cleland turned back, avoiding our eyes. 'Ah, well, It seems my mother-in-law has no vacancy here just now.' Eddy stared at him helplessly. 'But I--then what are we to do?'"

In both books is the same completely imaginary scene where, after Virginia has some very unsettling "lessons" with the mentally disturbed Rosalie Poe--something that never happened in reality--she upsets "Eddy" by saying she can't help but love Rosalie, as he is so much like her. He runs off hysterically, crying out (in both books) "We are nothing alike." Later that night, he returns to their boardinghouse, and visits the room Virginia and her mother share.

O'Neal: "'I wanted to say good night,' he [Eddy] said...He pecked her [Mrs. Clemm] on the cheek. Then he kissed Sissy on the lips. There was no liquor on his breath. Perhaps that was what he wanted known. He made no explanations. No one asked him where he had been or what he had been doing. He looked tired, haggard...'It is good to come home to a room that has love and beauty in it,' he said."

Hart: "I wanted to say good night,' Eddy muttered from the foot of the bed...He came around and kissed my mother's cheek, then moved to my side and pressed his mouth to mine...He did not explain, and I did not ask where he'd been...he looked gaunt and hollow and tired. 'It's good to come home to such love and beauty,' he whispered...There'd been no taint of liquor on his breath. Perhaps that was why he'd kissed me full on the mouth, in front of my mother. So I would know that."

After Eddy and Virginia are married, they take a train to Petersburg for their honeymoon. In both novels, the conductor, recognizing them as newlyweds, escorts them to the ladies' coach so they may sit together.

O'Neal: "He [the conductor] asked permission of the half-dozen lady passengers to bring them aboard. 'If you ladies don't object,' he said, 'I will close my eyes to company rules and allow the groom to sit in the ladies' coach with his lovely bride.'...She [Sissy] felt that she passed inspection...It was difficult to determine the age of a young lady, especially if she were reasonably well filled out and modestly veiled. 'I must ask you not to smoke, Mr. Poe,' the conductor warned in parting. 'Smoking is restricted to the gentleman's car on the rear.' 'Thank you,' Eddy said. 'I seldom smoke.'"

Hart: "'Going to flout company rules, folks, and seat you all in the second coach.' He [the conductor] grinned at Eddy. 'Already cleared it with the ladies aboard.' When we climbed up no one looked askance or asked how old I was. Of course, if a female is veiled and reasonably well filled out, it's hard to tell her exact age anyhow. The conductor left after admonishing the groom, 'Smoking is restricted to the gentleman's car at the rear, sir.'...'Thank you for the information,' he said. 'In any case, I seldom smoke.'"

Both novels have a scene where William Burton comes to their house for dinner. (There is no historical record of this happening, and it is highly unlikely, as the two detested each other.) In both scenes, Burton offers to hire Virginia for his theatre, has an identical discussion with her about comedy being "a very serious business," (an observation of Virginia's which in both scenes has Burton holding a piece of cake halfway to his mouth in surprise,) and where Burton seeks to hire Poe for his new magazine.

In both novels, the scene with Burton is immediately followed by one where the Poes go boating on the Wissahickon. (O'Neal drew the scene from Poe's essay, "Morning On the Wissahickon," but added Virginia to the outing.) Again, we have no proof this ever actually took place. In both novels, Poe comes up with a skiff that someone had left on the bank. When Virginia objects to him appropriating it, he answers that the owner can steal their horse in exchange. They have a picnic where, afterwards, Eddy rests with his head in Virginia's lap. In both scenes, there is reference to their hopes of living someday in a cottage overlooking the river.

In both books is a scene where Eddy gets drunk on his way back from Henry Hirst's office. He stays away overnight, although there is hot soup waiting for him. Virginia spends the night in her mother's room, suffering terrible nightmares about what might have befallen him. The next day, as Mrs. Clemm goes out to look for him, Virginia anxiously prepares dinner for three--hot biscuits and sweet potatoes. Mrs. Clemm finally brings back the intoxicated Eddy. He has with him a caged talking bird (in O'Neal's book, it is a parrot; in Hart's, a black bird.)

In both books is a scene where Virginia forces her doctor (in O'Neal's book, Dr. Mitchell; in Hart's, Dr. English) to tell her how much time she has left. These two scenes--of which we have no historical record--are virtually similar.

In both novels, Virginia develops pneumonia. (Again, there is no factual evidence for this.) In both cases, Rosalie comes to help attend her. The combination of Virginia's illness and his sister's presence causes Eddy to go on a bender. Their landlady brings her some broth, commenting on how thin Virginia looks.

Both novels have Eddy getting into a quarrel with a "young lieutenant" at his gymnasium after Eddy outpoints him in a pistol-shooting contest. In both cases, the lieutenant tells Eddy that poets have no intelligence or common sense, and can't be trusted with firearms. In both novels, Virginia is suffering from a touch of pleurisy at the time. The Poes are both feeling ill, and are confined to bed, much to their mutual boredom, although Virginia suspects Eddy is just "sulking." Virginia recovers, although Muddy won't let her out of bed until she is free of pain and fever for two days. While the two invalids are recuperating, Eddy quickly solves a magazine's word puzzle, which gives him the idea of offering a public challenge for people to send him cryptograms to solve. The thought inspires him to rise from his sickbed, get dressed, and go out the door, fully recovered. To repeat: This fictitious scenario O'Neal invented appears in both books.

In both novels, after Virginia has her first hemorrhage, doctors order her to bed for many months. This evidently did not happen in reality. (Also, in both novels her initial physician is none other than a kindly Thomas Dunn English. Although English had a physician's license, he does not seem to have ever actually practiced as a doctor--and we certainly have no reason to believe Virginia was ever his patient.)

In both novels, there is the same scene when they are living at the Brennan Farm. Eddy is going into town, so Virginia--who is trying to convince him that she is well--takes advantage of his absence to take some laudanum and rest. Because of the heavy snowfall, he returns unexpectedly, and is aghast to find her in bed. In both scenes, he picks up the laudanum bottle and asks her, "How long have you been taking this?" In O'Neal's book, his question is described as "not an accusation; it was a petition, a supplication, a plea for a reprieve from doom." In Hart's, it is "less a medical inquiry than a child's plea: Tell me a story. Make me believe all is well, and will end happily ever after." In both cases, the scene ends with Poe brooding on birds and coming up with the genesis for "The Raven."

All the above does not fully detail all the fictional resemblances to be found in these two books. Not even close. I think, however, I have given enough examples. I find it impossible to believe that, after reading all this, any disinterested observer could fail to see that there are major-league shenanigans afoot. I truly have never come across anything like this.

The Hazards of Poe Fiction: "The Raven's Bride" Revisited

I have noticed that over the past two weeks or so, this blog have gotten a number of hits where people appear to be looking for information related to Lenore Hart's recent Virginia Poe novel. Elsewhere online, it has struck me that readers who are unfamiliar with Poe take this work of fiction as some sort of "guidebook" to his real life--which is hardly the case. The novel is well-written and often intriguing, and I always appreciate Poe's wife getting some of the spotlight. However, certain things about "Bride" were simply utterly misguided, and I hate the thought that unwary readers will assume they were based on solid historical research. This seems to be a common trap for fans of historical fiction, and if it seems odd that I'm spending so much time discussing a mere novel, it's because I have come to believe that works of fiction have a greater influence than any biography in shaping general public perceptions of a historical figure. Just look at Shakespeare and Richard III.

Leaving aside the "Raven's Bride"/"Very Young Mrs. Poe" connection (and, again, I hope fans of Hart's novel will read Cothburn O'Neal's book and come to their own conclusions about that matter,) these are a few of the myths I fear this novel will popularize:

1. I assume in the interests of heightened drama, Hart way oversold the "Poe lived in poverty" angle. Yes, the Poes were never rolling in wealth. (Something that, I am convinced, was never important to them anyway.) Yes, there were several periods when they faced serious financial problems, most notably in the months before and after Virginia's death. However, Hart gives the impression that the Poe trio lived in practically unrelieved depressing and degrading squalor. Their lodgings are consistently described as "dingy," their clothes as humiliatingly "shabby," their tableware cracked and chipped. If you take Hart's word for it, Poe made Oliver Twist look like Louis XIV. And Virginia is depicted as privately gnashing her teeth in misery at the deplorable existence her feckless husband has imposed upon her.

This is, to say the least, exaggerated. Despite their lack of funds, contemporaries agree that Poe and his wife always dressed quietly, but with taste and even a modicum of style. Their clothing was always perfectly respectable. Similarly, their various living quarters were invariably described as simple, but comfortable, immaculate, and even charming. We know that, right into 1846, Virginia even owned unnecessary little luxuries such as stationery--which must have been custom-made--embossed with her initials (she owned another set with a flowered pattern,) and an elegant cut-glass perfume bottle. An acquaintance later described Virginia as having been "brought up in the South in perfect indolence and perfectly unfitted for toil. Her hands have never been soiled with work." Such details hardly indicate a hardscrabble existence. The Poe household may have been monetarily poor, but they surrounded themselves with what Poe's biographer Arthur H. Quinn described as "the neatness and self-respecting atmosphere, for which all three of the family were responsible." Their final New York City residence was located in what was then the most fashionable part of town. It should be noted that, even with the ill health she endured the last five years of her life, Virginia's friends all described her as a very cheerful, vivacious, happy personality who appeared utterly content with her lot. It is a disservice to both Virginia and Edgar that Hart failed to acknowledge that aspect of their story. There is no indication anywhere that Virginia ever regretted her life, or blamed her husband in any way for whatever problems they faced. Not one.

2. Poe's drinking was also overemphasized. It would be futile to deny that he had a problem with alcohol, but he was hardly the chronic "dipsomaniac" (Hart's words) portrayed in the novel. However, "Poe the drunk" has become such a beloved legendary figure--rather like Santa Claus--that it scarcely seems worthwhile pointing this out.

3. Hart completely misrepresents Poe's view of the afterlife. She depicts him as basically an atheist, convinced that there is nothing after we die, and that everyone we love is lost to us forever. If she had ever bothered to read "Eureka," or "The Island of the Fay," or "The Poetic Principle"--practically anything he ever wrote, for all that--she would have realized her grave error. (For anyone interested in Poe's religious views, Edward Wagenknecht's "Edgar Allan Poe: The Man Behind the Legend" closes with a fine chapter on the subject.)

4. Hart made a complete muddle of the Poe/Ellet/Osgood scandal. Most books about Poe inevitably do, as the subject is so murky and confounding, but I get the feeling she didn't even try to understand what happened. (And, of course, she also included that stale canard about Mrs. Osgood supposedly being estranged from her husband.) Hart simply combined two different, contradictory pieces of completely unverified gossip, and wound up with an illogical mess that doesn't even fit the few facts we have on the subject. For anyone who's interested, I've chronicled the whole complicated unpleasantness involving Poe and those two women here, here and here. (Incidentally, Hart's sloppy research is typified by her description of the very married Elizabeth Ellet as "Miss." And I am confounded by Hart's decision to have all the other characters call her "Lizzie." Mrs. Ellet was called a great many things by her contemporaries--few of which are repeatable here--but I can guarantee "Lizzie" was not among them. And I feel equally confident in asserting that Mrs. Osgood was never on a first-name basis with Poe or Virginia.)

I also found it interesting that Hart couldn't even make up her mind what Poe's relationship to Frances S. Osgood may have been. At one point, he mocks her personally and is unenthusiastic about her poetry. Then, he suddenly winds up in a public "flirtation" with her, and Hart describes him as appearing "disappointed" when Virginia tells him Osgood wants to be friends with both of them--the implication being that he had hoped for something more with the lady. This, of course, makes a startling and inexplicable contrast to Virginia's calm certainty that her husband "loved only me. I had his undying devotion, and all his true attention, in life and on the page..." Then, towards the end of the novel, Virginia classifies Osgood as just another of the literary women whom Poe "wooed" simply in the hopes of getting "favors" or "patronage" from them. (A rather ugly and unfounded smear Hart seems to have picked up from Cothburn O'Neal. In truth, these women were doing the "wooing" to win "favors" or "patronage" from him.) Also, Virginia feels no jealousy about the poems Poe and Osgood published to each other, as she realizes that such writings were merely "a reflection of the poet's ego, not the subject's life." But then, Virginia is depicted as being aware that "Poor Frances Osgood" is in love with Poe. How does she know this? From Osgood's poetry!

Couldn't Hart have made up her mind what she wanted to write before she sat down at the keyboard?

5. Hart's lack of knowledge about Poe is revealed by her ludicrous depiction of Thomas Dunn English as a kindly fellow who acted as Virginia's physician. (This bizarre touch is among her "borrowings" from Cothburn O'Neal.) For anyone who knows the true Poe/English history, this adds a positively surreal tone to the novel.

6. A central theme of the novel is Virginia's stifled dream to be a professional singer. Although we know she played the harp and piano, and was said to have a lovely singing voice, we have no indication she ever harbored any sort of professional ambitions. Virginia was described by everyone who knew her as a strong character, but very modest, dignified, and private, which makes this supposed aching desire to perform publicly seem unlikely. And I doubt her mother and husband would have objected if she had harbored such longings. After all, Poe's mother was an actress and singer, and he was very proud of the fact. As I noted in an earlier post, he publicly asserted the intrinsic morality of the stage, and strongly championed female performers. If his wife had dreamed of following in Eliza Poe's footsteps, I suspect he and "Muddy" would have been supportive, rather than horrified. However, I did not find the idea that she had such dreams convincing. I suspect Hart devised this "would-be career woman" plotline--which comes off as jarringly anachronistic--in order to make it easier for the modern-day female reader to "relate" to Virginia. (I got the strong feeling that "The Raven's Bride" was essentially written for teenage girls.)

7. As was the case in O'Neal's book, Poe's sister Rosalie plays a much larger role than the facts warrant. Rosalie herself admitted that she knew virtually nothing about Edgar and did not even know she had siblings until she was grown. There was always little contact between the two, and what relationship they had was decidedly chilly on both sides. (Although, once Edgar was dead, Rosalie never hesitated to exploit her connection to him.)

8. If I had to pick one thing I disliked about this novel, it was the air of subterranean hostility between the three principals. If you believe Hart, Virginia and her mother secretly resented Poe because he drank and couldn't hold a job. Virginia secretly resented her mother for dominating her. (This domination extended to the point where Mrs. Clemm was able to intimidate Edgar and Virginia into not consummating their marriage for two years!) Mrs. Clemm secretly resented Virginia for fighting this domination. Poe secretly resented them both because their presence kept him from speedily drinking himself to death. (And, of course, Virginia sensed his resentment--and resented him back for it, with interest.) I would not object to seeing such emotions depicted, if it wasn't for the fact that there is nothing on record to support any of it. Even Poe's worst enemies acknowledged that his family life was unusually close, loving, happy, and mutually supportive, with no hint of the clenched-fist antagonisms Hart imagined. Mrs. Clemm expressed nothing less than the truth when she wrote, "We three lived only for each other." Why do modern-day novelists have to turn every family relationship into something out of Tennessee Williams?

9. Just for the record, history gives no indication that Virginia ever had pneumonia. Hart evidently acquired that plotline from Cothburn O'Neal's novel. Similarly, we have no evidence that "Sissy" was a general "family name" for Virginia. As far as we know, no one except her husband ever called her by that pet name. Make of that what you will. The source for Hart's belief that "Sissy" was an appellation used by all her relatives appears to be...Cothburn O'Neal. (The same goes for the idea that Maria Clemm's mother was called "Granny Poe.")

I realize this entire post has an "Aside from that, Mrs. Lincoln, how did you like the play?" quality. There are some things to like about this novel, and I would not wish to dissuade anyone from reading "The Raven's Bride"--if for no other reason than that Virginia is in desperate need of reappraisals. There certainly are worse books about Poe in circulation. I just want to emphasize that this is very definitely a work of fiction. Magna est veritas et praevalebit.

The Raven's Bride

I've posted my assessment of Lenore Hart's new Virginia Poe novel, "The Raven's Bride" elsewhere, so I won't repeat myself here. Suffice to say:

I like it.

You never thought you'd see me say that about anything, eh? It's hardly perfect, but (especially by the generally gruesome standards of Poe-related fiction) it's not terrible, either. (Although I must say that I found myself quite fascinated by the fact that Ms. Hart must be--how can I best put it?--a great admirer of Cothburn O'Neal's earlier novel "The Very Young Mrs. Poe." Seriously, I wish someone would read both books back-to-back and tell me if I'm wrong.)

That aside, with James Spada's recent "Days When My Heart Was Volcanic," this means that two good Poe biographical novels have been published within the past year. By my count, that's precisely two more than have appeared this entire past century. And, interestingly, in both cases, Virginia--very atypically for Poe literature--is the heroine.I find this little short of miraculous.

If in 2011, someone writes a rational Poe biography, all of you may as well call an undertaker, because that could only mean that I've died and gone straight to Heaven.

(Obligatory note: I bought both these books on my own. No freebies. That does not mean, of course, that I'm not open to bribes, but, alas, who finds my opinions worth purchasing?)

An update: Since I wrote the above, I've dug out my copy of O'Neal's novel--which I hadn't read in some time, as it really isn't very good--and did a close side-by-side analysis with "Raven's Bride." I really wish anyone with an interest in either novel would do the same. I had thought Hart's novel was very reminiscent of this earlier work, but directly comparing the two is pretty amazing. I can honestly say that I've never seen two novels this similar.We may have to start a new Longfellow War here, folks.

FYI

Sometime next month, an author named Lenore Hart will be presenting the world with yet another Poe novel, "Nevermore." From the description, it will have Virginia Poe narrating the inside scoop on what it was like being married to Big Guy.

I'm unfamiliar with Hart's work, so I have no idea what to expect. For all I know, I'll love it. I sincerely hope that at least this will not be merely the latest stinker in the long and largely horrifying history of Poe-oriented fiction. However, I must say the fact that Hart evidently couldn't come up with a more unique title doesn't make me very sanguine. (How many novels and plays about Poe have been called "Nevermore?" Thirty thousand? Forty?) Ah, well, let's hope for the best.

(Just please, Lord, don't let this be another "Poe & Fanny"...)

Update: Hart's novel is now to be called "The Raven's Bride," and is now scheduled to be out Feb. 2011. (That title was actually used a few years ago for a historical novel about Sam Houston's wife, but it's still a decided step up on the originality scale from "Nevermore.")Let's keep our fingers crossed about this one. Believe it or not, I get tired of posting nothing but testy one and two-star reviews on Amazon about these seemingly endless piles of lousy Poe books. It would be nice for a change to have a good word about something. It'd certainly do wonders for my blood pressure.