Nevermore...

I'm glad to see that Boston is trying to reclaim Edgar Allan Poe. An article in today's Globe publicizes the new plaque commemorating Poe's birthplace -- but, apparently, it's in the wrong place. Of course, this is entirely appropriate because Poe hated Boston. I think it was more professional jealousy as Poe never fit in with the Boston Brahmin set: Oliver Wendell Holmes, Longfellow and Lowell all had long and successful literary careers; as Matthew Pearl lays out in his fantastic historical novel, The Poe Shadow, Poe died in Baltimore penniless, wearing ill-fitting clothes, virtually alone in the world.

I must confess a long-held affection for Poe's writing -- I've had a book of his poetry on my shelf since I was in middle school. I've always been drawn to the macabre -- first Poe, then Stephen King and now the books of Preston & Child (they have a new book coming out next month, "Cemetary Dance."). I even set one of his poems to music in a theory class back in school -- I can't quite remember the poem, "Amelie" perhaps? But it was awesome...in fact, it was so good that the Professor asked to hear it again to help fill the remainder of class one day!

Perhaps a sly Bostonian can start a tradition along the lines of Baltimore's Poe Toaster...