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Life

Poe was the son of the English-born actress Elizabeth Arnold Poe and David Poe, Jr., an actor from Baltimore. After his mother died in Richmond, Virginia, in 1811, he was taken into the home of John Allan, a Richmond merchant (presumably his godfather), and of his childless wife. He was later taken to Scotland and England (1815-20), where he was given a classical education that was continued in Richmond. For 11 months in 1826 he attended the University of Virginia, but his gambling losses at the university so incensed his guardian that he refused to let him continue, and Poe returned to Richmond to find his sweetheart, (Sarah) Elmira Royster, engaged. He went to Boston, where in 1827 he published a pamphlet of youthful Byronic poems, Tamerlane, and Other Poems. Poverty forced him to join the army under the name of Edgar A. Perry, but, on the death of Poe's foster mother, John Allan purchased his release from the army and helped him get an appointment to the U.S. Military Academy at West Point. Before going, Poe published a new volume at Baltimore, Al Aaraaf, Tamerlane, and Minor Poems (1829). He successfully sought expulsion from the academy, where he was absent from all drills and classes for a week. He proceeded to New York City and brought out a volume of Poems, containing several masterpieces, some showing the influence of John Keats, Percy Bysshe Shelley, and Samuel Taylor Coleridge. He then returned to Baltimore, where he began to write stories. In 1833 his " MS. Found in a Bottle" won $50 from a Baltimore weekly, and by 1835 he was in Richmond as editor of the Southern Literary Messenger. There he made a name as a critical reviewer and married his young cousin Virginia Clemm, who was only 13. Poe seems to have been an affectionate husband and son-in-law.

Poe was dismissed from his job in Richmond, apparently for drinking, and went to New York City. Drinking was in fact to be the bane of his life. To talk well in a large company he needed a slight stimulant, but a glass of sherry might start him on a spree; and, although he rarely succumbed to intoxication, he was often seen in public when he did. This gave rise to the conjecture that Poe was a drug addict, but according to medical testimony he had a brain lesion. While in New York City in 1838 he published a long prose narrative, The Narrative of Arthur Gordon Pym, combining (as so often in his tales) much factual material with the wildest fancies. It is considered one inspiration of Herman Melville's Moby Dick. In 1839 he became coeditor of Burton's Gentleman's Magazine in Philadelphia. There a contract for a monthly feature stimulated him to write "William Wilson" and "The Fall of the House of Usher," stories of supernatural horror. The latter contains a study of a neurotic now known to have been an acquaintance of Poe, not Poe himself.

Later in 1839 Poe's Tales of the Grotesque and Arabesque appeared (dated 1840). He resigned from Burton's about June 1840 but returned in 1841 to edit its successor, Graham's Lady's and Gentleman's Magazine, in which he printed "The Murders in the Rue Morgue"-the first detective story. In 1843 his "The Gold Bug" won a prize of $100 from the Philadelphia Dollar Newspaper, which gave him great publicity. In 1844 he returned to New York, wrote "The Balloon Hoax" for the Sun, and became subeditor of the New York Mirror under N.P. Willis, thereafter a lifelong friend. In the New York Mirror of January 29, 1845, appeared, from advance sheets of the American Review, his most famous poem, "The Raven," which gave him national fame at once. Poe then became editor of the Broadway Journal, a short-lived weekly, in which he republished most of his short stories, in 1845. During this last year the now-forgotten poet Frances Sargent Locke Osgood pursued Poe. Virginia did not object, but "Fanny's" indiscreet writings about her literary love caused great scandal. His The Raven and Other Poems and a selection of his Tales came out in 1845, and in 1846 Poe moved to a cottage at Fordham (now part of New York City), where he wrote for Godey's Lady's Book (May-October 1846) "The Literati of New York City"-gossipy sketches on personalities of the day, which led to a libel suit.

Poe's wife, Virginia, died in January 1847. The following year he went to Providence, Rhode Island, to woo Sarah Helen Whitman, a poet. There was a brief engagement. Poe had close but platonic entanglements with Annie Richmond and with Sarah Anna Lewis, who helped him financially. He composed poetic tributes to all of them. In 1848 he also published the lecture "Eureka," a transcendental "explanation" of the universe, which has been hailed as a masterpiece by some critics and as nonsense by others. In 1849 he went south, had a wild spree in Philadelphia, but got safely to Richmond, where he finally became engaged to Elmira Royster, by then the widowed Mrs. Shelton, and spent a happy summer with only one or two relapses. He enjoyed the companionship of childhood friends and an unromantic friendship with a young poet, Susan Archer Talley.

Poe had some forebodings of death when he left Richmond for Baltimore late in September. There he died, although whether from drinking, heart failure, or other causes was still uncertain in the 21st century. He was buried in Westminster Presbyterian churchyard in Baltimore.

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Edgar Allan Poe | Biography, Poems, Short Stories, & Facts

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Edgar Allan Poe, the master of macabre literature and pioneer of detective fiction, intrigued readers with his haunting tales that explored the depths of human psychology.

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Hear "The Tell-Tale Heart" read aloud.
The Tell-Tale Heart

True! - nervous - very, very dreadfully nervous I had been and am; but why will you say that I am mad? The disease had sharpened my senses - not destroyed - not dulled them. Above all was the sense of hearing acute. I heard all things in the heaven and in the earth. I heard many things in hell. How, then, am I mad? Hearken! and observe how healthily - how calmly I can tell you the whole story.

It is impossible to say how first the idea entered my brain; but once conceived, it haunted me day and night. Object there was none. Passion there was none. I loved the old man. He had never wronged me. He had never given me insult. For his gold I had no desire. I think it was his eye! yes, it was this! One of his eyes resembled that of a vulture - a pale blue eye, with a film over it. Whenever it fell upon me, my blood ran cold; and so by degrees - very gradually - I made up my mind to take the life of the old man, and thus rid myself of the eye forever.

Now this is the point. You fancy me mad. Madmen know nothing. But you should have seen me. You should have seen how wisely I proceeded - with what caution - with what foresight - with what dissimulation I went to work! I was never kinder to the old man than during the whole week before I killed him. And every night, about midnight, I turned the latch of his door and opened it - oh, so gently! And then, when I had made an opening sufficient for my head, I put in a dark lantern, all closed, closed, so that no light shone out, and then I thrust in my head. Oh, you would have laughed to see how cunningly I thrust it in! I moved it slowly - very, very slowly, so that I might not disturb the old man's sleep. It took me an hour to place my whole head within the opening so far that I could see him as he lay upon his bed. Ha! - would a madman have been so wise as this? And then, when my head was well in the room, I undid the lantern cautiously - oh, so cautiously - cautiously (for the hinges creaked) - I undid it just so much that a single thin ray fell upon the vulture eye. And this I did for seven long nights - every night just at midnight - but I found the eye always closed; and so it was impossible to do the work; for it was not the old man who vexed me, but his Evil Eye. And every morning, when the day broke, I went boldly into the chamber, and spoke courageously to him, calling him by name in a hearty tone, and inquiring how he had passed the night. So you see he would have been a very profound old man, indeed, to suspect that every night, just at twelve, I looked in upon him while he slept.

Upon the eighth night I was more than usually cautious in opening the door. A watch's minute hand moves more quickly than did mine. Never before that night had I felt the extent of my own powers - of my sagacity. I could scarcely contain my feelings of triumph. To think that there I was, opening the door, little by little, and he not even to dream of my secret deeds or thoughts. I fairly chuckled at the idea; and perhaps he heard me; for he moved on the bed suddenly, as if startled. Now you may think that I drew back - but no. His room was as black as pitch with the thick darkness, (for the shutters were close fastened, through fear of robbers,) and so I knew that he could not see the opening of the door, and I kept pushing it on steadily, steadily.

I had my head in, and was about to open the lantern, when my thumb slipped upon the tin fastening, and the old man sprang up in the bed, crying out - "Who's there?"

I kept quite still and said nothing. For a whole hour I did not move a muscle, and in the meantime I did not hear him lie down. He was still sitting up in the bed listening; - just as I have done, night after night, hearkening to the death watches in the wall.

Presently I heard a slight groan, and I knew it was the groan of mortal terror. It was not a groan of pain or of grief - oh, no! - it was the low stifled sound that arises from the bottom of the soul when overcharged with awe. I knew the sound well. Many a night, just at midnight, when all the world slept, it has welled up from my own bosom, deepening, with its dreadful echo, the terrors that distracted me. I say I knew it well. I knew what the old man felt, and pitied him, although I chuckled at heart. I knew that he had been lying awake ever since the first slight noise, when he had turned in the bed. His fears had been ever since growing upon him. He had been trying to fancy them causeless, but could not. He had been saying to himself - "It is nothing but the wind in the chimney - it is only a mouse crossing the floor," or "it is merely a cricket which has made a single chirp." Yes, he has been trying to comfort himself with these suppositions: but he had found all in vain. All in vain; because Death, in approaching him had stalked with his black shadow before him, and enveloped the victim. And it was the mournful influence of the unperceived shadow that caused him to feel - although he neither saw nor heard - to feel the presence of my head within the room.

When I had waited a long time, very patiently, without hearing him lie down, I resolved to open a little - a very, very little crevice in the lantern. So I opened it - you cannot imagine how stealthily, stealthily - until, at length a single dim ray, like the thread of the spider, shot from out the crevice and fell upon the vulture eye.

It was open - wide, wide open - and I grew furious as I gazed upon it. I saw it with perfect distinctness - all a dull blue, with a hideous veil over it that chilled the very marrow in my bones; but I could see nothing else of the old man's face or person: for I had directed the ray as if by instinct, precisely upon the damned spot.

And now have I not told you that what you mistake for madness is but over acuteness of the senses? - now, I say, there came to my ears a low, dull, quick sound, such as a watch makes when enveloped in cotton. I knew that sound well, too. It was the beating of the old man's heart. It increased my fury, as the beating of a drum stimulates the soldier into courage.

But even yet I refrained and kept still. I scarcely breathed. I held the lantern motionless. I tried how steadily I could maintain the ray upon the eye. Meantime the hellish tattoo of the heart increased. It grew quicker and quicker, and louder and louder every instant. The old man's terror must have been extreme! It grew louder, I say, louder every moment! - do you mark me well? I have told you that I am nervous: so I am. And now at the dead hour of the night, amid the dreadful silence of that old house, so strange a noise as this excited me to uncontrollable terror. Yet, for some minutes longer I refrained and stood still. But the beating grew louder, louder! I thought the heart must burst. And now a new anxiety seized me - the sound would be heard by a neighbor! The old man's hour had come! With a loud yell, I threw open the lantern and leaped into the room. He shrieked once - once only. In an instant I dragged him to the floor, and pulled the heavy bed over him. I then smiled gaily, to find the deed so far done. But, for many minutes, the heart beat on with a muffled sound. This, however, did not vex me; it would not be heard through the wall. At length it ceased. The old man was dead. I removed the bed and examined the corpse. Yes, he was stone, stone dead. I placed my hand upon the heart and held it there many minutes. There was no pulsation. He was stone dead. His eye would trouble me no more.

If still you think me mad, you will think so no longer when I describe the wise precautions I took for the concealment of the body. The night waned, and I worked hastily, but in silence. First of all I dismembered the corpse. I cut off the head and the arms and the legs.

I then took up three planks from the flooring of the chamber, and deposited all between the scantlings. I then replaced the boards so cleverly, so cunningly, that no human eye - not even his - could have detected any thing wrong. There was nothing to wash out - no stain of any kind - no blood-spot whatever. I had been too wary for that. A tub had caught all - ha! ha!

When I had made an end of these labors, it was four o 'clock - still dark as midnight. As the bell sounded the hour, there came a knocking at the street door. I went down to open it with a light heart, - for what had I now to fear? There entered three men, who introduced themselves, with perfect suavity, as officers of the police. A shriek had been heard by a neighbor during the night; suspicion of foul play had been aroused; information had been lodged at the police office, and they (the officers) had been deputed to search the premises.

I smiled, - for what had I to fear? I bade the gentlemen welcome. The shriek, I said, was my own in a dream. The old man, I mentioned, was absent in the country. I took my visitors all over the house. I bade them search - search well. I led them, at length, to his chamber. I showed them his treasures, secure, undisturbed. In the enthusiasm of my confidence, I brought chairs into the room, and desired them here to rest from their fatigues, while I myself, in the wild audacity of my perfect triumph, placed my own seat upon the very spot beneath which reposed the corpse of the victim.

The officers were satisfied. My manner had convinced them. I was singularly at ease. They sat, and while I answered cheerily, they chatted of familiar things. But, ere long, I felt myself getting pale and wished them gone. My head ached, and I fancied a ringing in my ears: but still they sat and still chatted. The ringing became more distinct: - it continued and became more distinct: I talked more freely to get rid of the feeling: but it continued and gained definitiveness - until, at length, I found that the noise was not within my ears.

No doubt I now grew very pale; - but I talked more fluently, and with a heightened voice. Yet the sound increased - and what could I do? It was a low, dull, quick sound - much such a sound as a watch makes when enveloped in cotton. I gasped for breath - and yet the officers heard it not. I talked more quickly - more vehemently; but the noise steadily increased. I arose and argued about trifles, in a high key and with violent gesticulations; but the noise steadily increased. Why would they not be gone? I paced the floor to and fro with heavy strides, as if excited to fury by the observations of the men - but the noise steadily increased. Oh God! what could I do? I foamed - I raved - I swore! I swung the chair upon which I had been sitting, and grated it upon the boards, but the noise arose over all and continually increased. It grew louder - louder - louder! And still the men chatted pleasantly, and smiled. Was it possible they heard not? Almighty God! - no, no! They heard! - they suspected! - they knew! - they were making a mockery of my horror! - this I thought, and this I think. But anything was better than this agony! Anything was more tolerable than this derision! I could bear those hypocritical smiles no longer! I felt that I must scream or die! - and now - again! - hark! louder! louder! louder! louder! -

"Villains!" I shrieked, "dissemble no more! I admit the deed! - tear up the planks! - here, here! - it is the beating of his hideous heart!"
Edgar Allan Poe January 1843 Illustration by Harry Clarke

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Hear "The Tell-Tale Heart" read aloud. True! - nervous - very, very dreadfully nervous I had been and am; but why will you say that I am mad? The disease had sharpened my senses - not destroyed - not dulled them. Above all was the sense of hearing acute.

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Edgar Allan Poe - Writer | Mini Bio | BIO

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Edgar Allan Poe's stature as a major figure in world literature is primarily based on his ingenious and profound short stories, poems, and critical theories, which established a highly influential rationale for the short form in both poetry and fiction. Regarded in literary histories and handbooks as the architect of the modern short story, Poe was also the principal forerunner of the "art for art's sake" movement in 19th-century European literature. Whereas earlier critics predominantly concerned themselves with moral or ideological generalities, Poe focused his criticism on the specifics of style and construction that contributed to a work's effectiveness or failure. In his own work, he demonstrated a brilliant command of language and technique as well as an inspired and original imagination. Poe's poetry and short stories greatly influenced the French Symbolists of the late 19th century, who in turn altered the direction of modern literature.

Poe's father and mother were professional actors. At the time of his birth in 1809, they were members of a repertory company in Boston. Before Poe was three years old both of his parents died, and he was raised in the home of John Allan, a prosperous exporter from Richmond, Virginia, who never legally adopted his foster son. As a boy, Poe attended the best schools available, and was admitted to the University of Virginia at Charlottesville in 1825. While there he distinguished himself academically but was forced to leave after less than a year because of bad debts and inadequate financial support from Allan. Poe's relationship with Allan disintegrated upon his return to Richmond in 1827, and soon after Poe left for Boston, where he enlisted in the army and also published his first poetry collection, Tamerlane, and Other Poems. The volume went unnoticed by readers and reviewers, and a second collection, Al Aaraaf, Tamerlane, and Minor Poems, received only slightly more attention when it appeared in 1829. That same year Poe was honorably discharged from the army, having attained the rank of regimental sergeant major, and was then admitted to the United States Military Academy at West Point. However, because Allan would neither provide his foster son with sufficient funds to maintain himself as a cadet nor give the consent necessary to resign from the Academy, Poe gained a dismissal by ignoring his duties and violating regulations. He subsequently went to New York City, where Poems, his third collection of verse, was published in 1831, and then to Baltimore, where he lived at the home of his aunt, Mrs. Maria Clemm.

Over the next few years Poe's first short stories appeared in the Philadelphia Saturday Courier and his "MS. Found in a Bottle" won a cash prize for best story in the Baltimore Saturday Visitor. Nevertheless, Poe was still not earning enough to live independently, nor did Allan's death in 1834 provide him with an inheritance. The following year, however, his financial problems were temporarily alleviated when he accepted an editorship at The Southern Literary Messenger in Richmond, bringing with him his aunt and his 12-year-old cousin Virginia, whom he married in 1836. The Southern Literary Messenger was the first of several journals Poe would direct over the next 10 years and through which he rose to prominence as a leading man of letters in America. Poe made himself known not only as a superlative author of poetry and fiction, but also as a literary critic whose level of imagination and insight had hitherto been unapproached in American literature. While Poe's writings gained attention in the late 1830s and early 1840s, the profits from his work remained meager, and he supported himself by editing Burton's Gentleman's Magazine and Graham's Magazine in Philadelphia and the Broadway Journal in New York City. After his wife's death from tuberculosis in 1847, Poe became involved in a number of romantic affairs. It was while he prepared for his second marriage that Poe, for reasons unknown, arrived in Baltimore in late September of 1849. On October 3, he was discovered in a state of semi-consciousness; he died four days later without regaining the necessary lucidity to explain what had happened during the last days of his life.

Poe's most conspicuous contribution to world literature derives from the analytical method he practiced both as a creative author and as a critic of the works of his contemporaries. His self-declared intention was to formulate strictly artistic ideals in a milieu that he thought overly concerned with the utilitarian value of literature, a tendency he termed the "heresy of the Didactic." While Poe's position includes the chief requisites of pure aestheticism, his emphasis on literary formalism was directly linked to his philosophical ideals: through the calculated use of language one may express, though always imperfectly, a vision of truth and the essential condition of human existence. Poe's theory of literary creation is noted for two central points: first, a work must create a unity of effect on the reader to be considered successful; second, the production of this single effect should not be left to the hazards of accident or inspiration, but should to the minutest detail of style and subject be the result of rational deliberation on the part of the author. In poetry, this single effect must arouse the reader's sense of beauty, an ideal that Poe closely associated with sadness, strangeness, and loss; in prose, the effect should be one revelatory of some truth, as in "tales of ratiocination" or works evoking "terror, or passion, or horror."

Aside from a common theoretical basis, there is a psychological intensity that is characteristic of Poe's writings, especially the tales of horror that comprise his best and best-known works. These stories-which include "The Black Cat," "The Cask of Amontillado," and "The Tell-Tale Heart"-are often told by a first-person narrator, and through this voice Poe probes the workings of a character's psyche. This technique foreshadows the psychological explorations of Fyodor Dostoyevsky and the school of psychological realism. In his Gothic tales, Poe also employed an essentially symbolic, almost allegorical method which gives such works as "The Fall of the House of Usher," "The Masque of the Red Death," and "Ligeia" an enigmatic quality that accounts for their enduring interest and links them with the symbolical works of Nathaniel Hawthorne and Herman Melville. The influence of Poe's tales may be seen in the work of later writers, including Ambrose Bierce and H.P. Lovecraft, who belong to a distinct tradition of horror literature initiated by Poe. In addition to his achievement as creator of the modern horror tale, Poe is also credited with parenting two other popular genres: science fiction and the detective story. In such works as "The Unparalleled Adventure of Hans Pfaall" and "Von Kempelen and His Discovery," Poe took advantage of the fascination for science and technology that emerged in the early 19th century to produce speculative and fantastic narratives which anticipate a type of literature that did not become widely practiced until the 20th century. Similarly, Poe's three tales of ratiocination-"The Murders in the Rue Morgue," "The Purloined Letter," and "The Mystery of Marie Roget"-are recognized as the models which established the major characters and literary conventions of detective fiction, specifically the amateur sleuth who solves a crime that has confounded the authorities and whose feats of deductive reasoning are documented by an admiring associate. Just as Poe influenced many succeeding authors and is regarded as an ancestor of such major literary movements as Symbolism and Surrealism, he was also influenced by earlier literary figures and movements. In his use of the demonic and the grotesque, Poe evidenced the impact of the stories of E.T.A. Hoffman and the Gothic novels of Ann Radcliffe, while the despair and melancholy in much of his writing reflects an affinity with the Romantic movement of the early 19th century. It was Poe's particular genius that in his work he gave consummate artistic form both to his personal obsessions and those of previous literary generations, at the same time creating new forms which provided a means of expression for future artists.

While Poe is most often remembered for his short fiction, his first love as a writer was poetry, which he began writing during his adolescence. His early verse reflects the influence of such English romantics as Lord Byron, John Keats, and Percy Bysshe Shelley, yet foreshadows his later poetry which demonstrates a subjective outlook and surreal, mystic vision. "Tamerlane" and "Al Aaraaf" exemplify Poe's evolution from the portrayal of Byronic heroes to the depiction of journeys within his own imagination and subconscious. The former piece, reminiscent of Byron's "Childe Harold's Pilgrimage," recounts the life and adventures of a 14th-century Mongol conqueror; the latter poem portrays a dreamworld where neither good nor evil permanently reside and where absolute beauty can be directly discerned. In other poems-" To Helen," "Lenore," and " The Raven" in particular-Poe investigates the loss of ideal beauty and the difficulty in regaining it. These pieces are usually narrated by a young man who laments the untimely death of his beloved. "To Helen" is a three stanza lyric that has been called one of the most beautiful love poems in the English language. The subject of the work is a woman who becomes, in the eyes of the narrator, a personification of the classical beauty of ancient Greece and Rome. "Lenore" presents ways in which the dead are best remembered, either by mourning or celebrating life beyond earthly boundaries. In "The Raven," Poe successfully unites his philosophical and aesthetic ideals. In this psychological piece, a young scholar is emotionally tormented by a raven's ominous repetition of "Nevermore" in answer to his question about the probability of an afterlife with his deceased lover. Charles Baudelaire noted in his introduction to the French edition of "The Raven": "It is indeed the poem of the sleeplessness of despair; it lacks nothing: neither the fever of ideas, nor the violence of colors, nor sickly reasoning, nor drivelling terror, nor even the bizarre gaiety of suffering which makes it more terrible." Poe also wrote poems that were intended to be read aloud. Experimenting with combinations of sound and rhythm, he employed such technical devices as repetition, parallelism, internal rhyme, alliteration, and assonance to produce works that are unique in American poetry for their haunting, musical quality. In "The Bells," for example, the repetition of the word "bells" in various structures accentuates the unique tonality of the different types of bells described in the poem.

While his works were not conspicuously acclaimed during his lifetime, Poe did earn due respect as a gifted fiction writer, poet, and man of letters, and occasionally he achieved a measure of popular success, especially following the appearance of " The Raven." After his death, however, the history of his critical reception becomes one of dramatically uneven judgments and interpretations. This state of affairs was initiated by Poe's one-time friend and literary executor R.W. Griswold, who, in a libelous obituary notice in the New York Tribune bearing the byline "Ludwig," attributed the depravity and psychological aberrations of many of the characters in Poe's fiction to Poe himself. In retrospect, Griswold's vilifications seem ultimately to have elicited as much sympathy as censure with respect to Poe and his work, leading subsequent biographers of the late 19th century to defend, sometimes too devotedly, Poe's name. It was not until the 1941 biography by A.H. Quinn that a balanced view was provided of Poe, his work, and the relationship between the author's life and his imagination. Nevertheless, the identification of Poe with the murderers and madmen of his works survived and flourished in the 20th century, most prominently in the form of psychoanalytical studies such as those of Marie Bonaparte and Joseph Wood Krutch. Added to the controversy over the sanity, or at best the maturity of Poe (Paul Elmer More called him "the poet of unripe boys and unsound men"), was the question of the value of Poe's works as serious literature. At the forefront of Poe's detractors were such eminent figures as Henry James, Aldous Huxley, and T.S. Eliot, who dismissed Poe's works as juvenile, vulgar, and artistically debased; in contrast, these same works have been judged to be of the highest literary merit by such writers as Bernard Shaw and William Carlos Williams. Complementing Poe's erratic reputation among English and American critics is the more stable, and generally more elevated opinion of critics elsewhere in the world, particularly in France. Following the extensive translations and commentaries of Charles Baudelaire in the 1850s, Poe's works were received with a peculiar esteem by French writers, most profoundly those associated with the late 19th-century movement of Symbolism, who admired Poe's transcendent aspirations as a poet; the 20th-century movement of Surrealism, which valued Poe's bizarre and apparently unruled imagination; and such figures as Paul Valéry, who found in Poe's theories and thought an ideal of supreme rationalism. In other countries, Poe's works have enjoyed a similar regard, and numerous studies have been written tracing the influence of the American author on the international literary scene, especially in Russia, Japan, Scandinavia, and Latin America.

Today, Poe is recognized as one of the foremost progenitors of modern literature, both in its popular forms, such as horror and detective fiction, and in its more complex and self-conscious forms, which represent the essential artistic manner of the 20th century. In contrast to earlier critics who viewed the man and his works as one, criticism of the past 25 years has developed a view of Poe as a detached artist who was more concerned with displaying his virtuosity than with expressing his soul, and who maintained an ironic rather than an autobiographical relationship to his writings. While at one time critics such as Yvor Winters wished to remove Poe from literary history, his works remain integral to any conception of modernism in world literature. Herbert Marshall McLuhan wrote in an essay entitled "Edgar Poe's Tradition": "While the New England dons primly turned the pages of Plato and Buddha beside a tea-cozy, and while Browning and Tennyson were creating a parochial fog for the English mind to relax in, Poe never lost contact with the terrible pathos of his time. Coevally with Baudelaire, and long before Conrad and Eliot, he explored the heart of darkness."

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Edgar Allan Poe's stature as a major figure in world literature is primarily based on his ingenious and profound short stories, poems, and critical theories, which established a highly influential rationale for the short form in both poetry and fiction. Regarded in literary histories and handbooks...

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Print Version
TRUE! -- nervous -- very, very dreadfully nervous I had been and am; but why will you say that I am mad? The disease had sharpened my senses -- not destroyed -- not dulled them. Above all was the sense of hearing acute. I heard all things in the heaven and in the earth. I heard many things in hell. How, then, am I mad? Hearken! and observe how healthily -- how calmly I can tell you the whole story.

It is impossible to say how first the idea entered my brain; but once conceived, it haunted me day and night. Object there was none. Passion there was none. I loved the old man. He had never wronged me. He had never given me insult. For his gold I had no desire. I think it was his eye! yes, it was this! He had the eye of a vulture --a pale blue eye, with a film over it. Whenever it fell upon me, my blood ran cold; and so by degrees -- very gradually --I made up my mind to take the life of the old man, and thus rid myself of the eye forever.

Now this is the point. You fancy me mad. Madmen know nothing. But you should have seen me. You should have seen how wisely I proceeded --with what caution --with what foresight --with what dissimulation I went to work! I was never kinder to the old man than during the whole week before I killed him. And every night, about midnight, I turned the latch of his door and opened it --oh so gently! And then, when I had made an opening sufficient for my head, I put in a dark lantern, all closed, closed, so that no light shone out, and then I thrust in my head. Oh, you would have laughed to see how cunningly I thrust it in! I moved it slowly --very, very slowly, so that I might not disturb the old man's sleep. It took me an hour to place my whole head within the opening so far that I could see him as he lay upon his bed. Ha! --would a madman have been so wise as this? And then, when my head was well in the room, I undid the lantern cautiously --oh, so cautiously --cautiously (for the hinges creaked) --I undid it just so much that a single thin ray fell upon the vulture eye. And this I did for seven long nights --every night just at midnight --but I found the eye always closed; and so it was impossible to do the work; for it was not the old man who vexed me, but his Evil Eye. And every morning, when the day broke, I went boldly into the chamber, and spoke courageously to him, calling him by name in a hearty tone, and inquiring how he has passed the night. So you see he would have been a very profound old man, indeed, to suspect that every night, just at twelve, I looked in upon him while he slept.

Upon the eighth night I was more than usually cautious in opening the door. A watch's minute hand moves more quickly than did mine. Never before that night had I felt the extent of my own powers --of my sagacity. I could scarcely contain my feelings of triumph. To think that there I was, opening the door, little by little, and he not even to dream of my secret deeds or thoughts. I fairly chuckled at the idea; and perhaps he heard me; for he moved on the bed suddenly, as if startled. Now you may think that I drew back --but no. His room was as black as pitch with the thick darkness, (for the shutters were close fastened, through fear of robbers,) and so I knew that he could not see the opening of the door, and I kept pushing it on steadily, steadily.

I had my head in, and was about to open the lantern, when my thumb slipped upon the tin fastening, and the old man sprang up in bed, crying out --"Who's there?"

I kept quite still and said nothing. For a whole hour I did not move a muscle, and in the meantime I did not hear him lie down. He was still sitting up in the bed listening; --just as I have done, night after night, hearkening to the death watches in the wall.

Presently I heard a slight groan, and I knew it was the groan of mortal terror. It was not a groan of pain or of grief --oh, no! --it was the low stifled sound that arises from the bottom of the soul when overcharged with awe. I knew the sound well. Many a night, just at midnight, when all the world slept, it has welled up from my own bosom, deepening, with its dreadful echo, the terrors that distracted me. I say I knew it well. I knew what the old man felt, and pitied him, although I chuckled at heart. I knew that he had been lying awake ever since the first slight noise, when he had turned in the bed. His fears had been ever since growing upon him. He had been trying to fancy them causeless, but could not. He had been saying to himself --"It is nothing but the wind in the chimney --it is only a mouse crossing the floor," or "It is merely a cricket which has made a single chirp." Yes, he had been trying to comfort himself with these suppositions: but he had found all in vain. All in vain; because Death, in approaching him had stalked with his black shadow before him, and enveloped the victim. And it was the mournful influence of the unperceived shadow that caused him to feel --although he neither saw nor heard --to feel the presence of my head within the room.

When I had waited a long time, very patiently, without hearing him lie down, I resolved to open a little --a very, very little crevice in the lantern. So I opened it --you cannot imagine how stealthily, stealthily --until, at length a single dim ray, like the thread of the spider, shot from out the crevice and fell full upon the vulture eye.

It was open --wide, wide open --and I grew furious as I gazed upon it. I saw it with perfect distinctness --all a dull blue, with a hideous veil over it that chilled the very marrow in my bones; but I could see nothing else of the old man's face or person: for I had directed the ray as if by instinct, precisely upon the damned spot.

And have I not told you that what you mistake for madness is but over acuteness of the senses? --now, I say, there came to my ears a low, dull, quick sound, such as a watch makes when enveloped in cotton. I knew that sound well, too. It was the beating of the old man's heart. It increased my fury, as the beating of a drum stimulates the soldier into courage.

But even yet I refrained and kept still. I scarcely breathed. I held the lantern motionless. I tried how steadily I could maintain the ray upon the eye. Meantime the hellish tattoo of the heart increased. It grew quicker and quicker, and louder and louder every instant. The old man's terror must have been extreme! It grew louder, I say, louder every moment! --do you mark me well? I have told you that I am nervous: so I am. And now at the dead hour of the night, amid the dreadful silence of that old house, so strange a noise as this excited me to uncontrollable terror. Yet, for some minutes longer I refrained and stood still. But the beating grew louder, louder! I thought the heart must burst. And now a new anxiety seized me --the sound would be heard by a neighbor! The old man's hour had come! With a loud yell, I threw open the lantern and leaped into the room. He shrieked once --once only. In an instant I dragged him to the floor, and pulled the heavy bed over him. I then smiled gaily, to find the deed so far done. But, for many minutes, the heart beat on with a muffled sound. This, however, did not vex me; it would not be heard through the wall. At length it ceased. The old man was dead. I removed the bed and examined the corpse. Yes, he was stone, stone dead. I placed my hand upon the heart and held it there many minutes. There was no pulsation. He was stone dead. His eye would trouble me no more.

If still you think me mad, you will think so no longer when I describe the wise precautions I took for the concealment of the body. The night waned, and I worked hastily, but in silence. First of all I dismembered the corpse. I cut off the head and the arms and the legs.

I then took up three planks from the flooring of the chamber, and deposited all between the scantlings. I then replaced the boards so cleverly, so cunningly, that no human eye -- not even his --could have detected any thing wrong. There was nothing to wash out --no stain of any kind --no blood-spot whatever. I had been too wary for that. A tub had caught all --ha! ha!

When I had made an end of these labors, it was four o'clock --still dark as midnight. As the bell sounded the hour, there came a knocking at the street door. I went down to open it with a light heart, --for what had I now to fear? There entered three men, who introduced themselves, with perfect suavity, as officers of the police. A shriek had been heard by a neighbor during the night; suspicion of foul play had been aroused; information had been lodged at the police office, and they (the officers) had been deputed to search the premises.

I smiled, --for what had I to fear? I bade the gentlemen welcome. The shriek, I said, was my own in a dream. The old man, I mentioned, was absent in the country. I took my visitors all over the house. I bade them search --search well. I led them, at length, to his chamber. I showed them his treasures, secure, undisturbed. In the enthusiasm of my confidence, I brought chairs into the room, and desired them here to rest from their fatigues, while I myself, in the wild audacity of my perfect triumph, placed my own seat upon the very spot beneath which reposed the corpse of the victim.

The officers were satisfied. My manner had convinced them. I was singularly at ease. They sat, and while I answered cheerily, they chatted of familiar things. But, ere long, I felt myself getting pale and wished them gone. My head ached, and I fancied a ringing in my ears: but still they sat and still chatted. The ringing became more distinct: --it continued and became more distinct: I talked more freely to get rid of the feeling: but it continued and gained definiteness --until, at length, I found that the noise was not within my ears.

No doubt I now grew very pale; --but I talked more fluently, and with a heightened voice. Yet the sound increased --and what could I do? It was a low, dull, quick sound --much such a sound as a watch makes when enveloped in cotton. I gasped for breath -- and yet the officers heard it not. I talked more quickly --more vehemently; but the noise steadily increased. I arose and argued about trifles, in a high key and with violent gesticulations; but the noise steadily increased. Why would they not be gone? I paced the floor to and fro with heavy strides, as if excited to fury by the observations of the men -- but the noise steadily increased. Oh God! what could I do? I foamed --I raved --I swore! I swung the chair upon which I had been sitting, and grated it upon the boards, but the noise arose over all and continually increased. It grew louder --louder --louder! And still the men chatted pleasantly, and smiled. Was it possible they heard not? Almighty God! --no, no! They heard! --they suspected! --they knew! --they were making a mockery of my horror! --this I thought, and this I think. But anything was better than this agony! Anything was more tolerable than this derision! I could bear those hypocritical smiles no longer! I felt that I must scream or die! --and now --again! --hark! louder! louder! louder! louder! --

"Villains!" I shrieked, " dissemble no more! I admit the deed! --tear up the planks! --here, here! --it is the beating of his hideous heart!"

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The complete, unabridged text of The Tell-Tale Heart by Edgar Allan Poe, with vocabulary words and definitions.

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Upon the mysterious death of America's master of mystery and the macabre, the literary rival of Edgar Allan Poe wrote a scathing obituary and biography of the author. However, much of what was written by Poe's foe, Rufus Griswold, was untrue. Vengeful over things Poe had written about Griswold, the latter's postmortem portrait of Poe painted him as a womanizing madman, drug-addled and bereft of both morals and friends.

Although far from the truth, many of Griswold's distortions stuck. It was the only biography of Poe at the time - and a well-read one at that - and in combination with the tone of some of Poe's work, it was convincing to a public wanting to believe in the scandalous darkness of the writer. Even though purported letters from Poe to Griswold "proving" his lunacy were later found to be forged - and Poe's friends vehemently denied the salacious slander - to this day the image of Poe as a raving odd bird persists.

A century and a half later, perhaps the oddest thing about Edgar Allan Poe is that he wasn't very odd at all, relatively speaking. He wasn't lurking in cemeteries and caressing caskets, but in fact was a hardworking and brilliant pioneer who changed the face of American literature. With that in mind, here are some of the more oddly normal things to know about one of America's most innovative authors.

1. He Was a Literary Trailblazer

Poe is best remembered for his tales of terror and haunting poems, but he is also credited as one of the earliest writers of short stories, the inventor of the modern detective story, and an innovator in the genre of science fiction.

2. He Was Prolific

His works include short stories, poetry, a novel, a textbook, a book of scientific theory, and numerous essays and book reviews.

3. He Created a New Profession

Poe is considered America's first well-known professional writer (and thus, starving artist); he eked out his living as the country's first great literary critic and theoretician.

4. He Was Likely Named After a Shakespearean Character

He was born Edgar Poe in Boston in 1809; his parents were both actors. His parents were performing in Shakespeare's King Lear the year he was born, leading to speculation that he was named for the play's Earl of Gloucester's son, Edgar.

5. Poetry and the Pen Ran in the Poe Family

Poe was the middle child of three. His brother, William Henry Leonard Poe, was also a poet, his sister Rosalie Poe was a teacher of penmanship.

6. He Was an Orphan

Before Edgar reached the age of 4, his parents died and he was taken in by a wealthy merchant named John Allan and his wife, Francis. They lived in Richmond, Virginia, and christened the boy with the name Edgar Allan Poe.

7. He Emulated Lord Byron

Poe's foster father groomed him to go into business and become a Virginia gentleman, but Poe dreamt of being a writer like his boyhood hero, the British poet Lord Byron (right). By the time he was 13, Poe had written enough poetry for a book, even though his headmaster convinced Poe's father not to allow its publication.

8. Poverty Was His Muse

Poe started on a college career, but with little financial support from the miserly Allan, Poe embarked on a long journey of poverty and debt. Money problems haunted him and tensions with his foster father prompted him into determination to become a successful writer.

9. He Was a Prodigy

He published his first book, "Tamerlane," when he has 18.

10. He Was Disinherited

When Allan died, Poe was living in poverty .. but he was left out of the will, which nonetheless provided for an illegitimate child who Allan hadn't even ever met. Ouch.

11. He Married His Teen Cousin

He married his first cousin, Virginia Clemm (left), when she was 13 and he was 27. (OK, so maybe that's a bit odd by today's standards.) She died at the age of 24 from tuberculosis.

12. He May Have Invented the Art of Snarky

Poe acquired an editorial position at the soon-to-become popular Southern Literary Messenger magazine, where he became famous for his scathing book reviews and scorching critiques (which is where Griswold's ire was born). He went on to write for many magazines. The 1845 publication of "The Raven" made him a household name and finally secured him the success he had been seeking.

13. His Death Was as Enigmatic as His Work

In 1849, Poe went missing for five days and was found "worse for the wear" and delirious in Baltimore. He was taken to the hospital where he died soon after at the age of 40. No autopsy was performed, the cause of death was listed as a vague "congestion of the brain" and he was buried two days later. Experts and scholars have proposed everything from murder and rabies to dipsomania and carbon monoxide poisoning as the reason for his demise, but to this day the cause of Edgar Allan Poe's death remains a mystery. Could there be a more befitting legacy?

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You may know him as the unofficial patron saint of the morbid, but there's so much more to learn about Edgar Allan Poe.

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Born on January 19, 1809 in Boston Massachusetts, Edgar Allan Poe holds a very unique spot in American literature. His rise to fame came with his exquisitely written poems and macabre short stories that caught the attention of readers in ways very few authors of his generation could.

The following are some interesting facts that shed more light on the life and works of Edgar Allan Poe (1809- 1849) - the enigmatic critic, poet and editor:

Poe was continuously dissuaded from pursuing a career in writing

Poe's foster father was not the only one who tried to pursue Poe to abandon his writing ambitions. At some point in his childhood, Poe was consistently advised by his school's headmaster not to go into writing and poetry. However, Poe rightly stood his grounds, and chose poetry over business. It is even believed that Poe was fond of writing poems all across the business documents of his foster father.

Edgar Allan Poe experienced severe financial problems

Edgar Allan Poe's financial situation was so dire that in order to publish his third poem collection, Poe had to solicit for donations from his friends and cadets at the military academy. His friends at West Point helped raise about $170 for the publication.

His financial predicament was due to him severing ties with his foster family, particularly his foster father. Also, his first two poem collections performed very abysmally. Besides, back in those days, very few people took writing as a full time profession. In order to make ends meet, ill-paid writers had to get by doing other jobs in addition to writing.

Edgar Allan Poe got his nickname "Tomhawk" due to his excessive criticism

Poe was nicknamed "Tomhawk" or "the Tomhawk Man" due to his harsh criticisms of fellow writers and poets. Famous writers such as Henry Wadsworth Longfellow and Rufus Wilmot Griswold were often on the receiving end of his brutal criticism. For example, he once accused Henry Wadsworth Longfellow of plagiarism and sloppy writing. Due to his unforgiving criticism, Poe often found himself alienated by the writing community.

Poe lied mostly about his age and that of his wife

In order to get married to his first cousin, Virginia Eliza Clemm, Poe connived with her to falsify her age. The marriage documents stated that Virginia was 21 years, however, in actual fact she was just 13 years old. Interestingly, this was not Poe's first time lying about something. In 1829, Poe lied about his age in order to gain entry into the U.S. Army. He claimed that he was 21 instead of 18 years. He also masked his identity by calling himself "Edgar A. Perry".

He made writing a full time profession

Poe was one of the first writers or poet in the 19 th century to make writing a full time profession. Considering how poorly writers were paid, Poe resorted to campaigning for better and timelier pay for writers in America.

Regardless of his critically acclaimed 1845 poem titled " The Raven", Edgar Allan Poe died very miserable and in severe financial distress. This compelled Poe to campaign for better pay conditions for writers and proper international copyright laws. He believed that having copyright laws, publishers in America will have no option than to pay American writers properly.

Edgar Allan Poe's most famous work, "The Raven", made him about $9

Despite all its positive reviews, his most famous work, The Raven, earned about $9 in total. The Raven did, however, help catapult Poe into an established and respected writer. For centuries, writers and poets alike have regarded The Raven as the most famous poem to come from America.

Most of his loved ones died at the age of 24

In a frightening case of coincidence, his biological mother, elder brother, and wife all died at the age of 24. His mother's death came in 1811. His brother's death was in 1847- he suffered from alcoholism. And the most shocking of them all was that of his wife, Virginia Clemm Poe. She died from perhaps tuberculosis in 1847.

It has also been theorized that Poe ventured into dark themes of romanticism because of the numerous personal tragedies that befell him. It was only natural that he would develop a knack for using a lot of themes about the death of pretty women. Perhaps, it was his way of dealing with the numerous losses he suffered.

He struggled with alcoholism and gambling for years

Few weeks into his job as the Editor of the Southern Literary Messenger in Richmond, Virginia, Poe got dismissed in August 1835 for disorderly and drunken behavior. After promising not to do it again, Thomas W. White helped him get his job back. But two years later, he left his post after relapsing into his excessive drinking behavior and tardiness at work.

Edgar Poe made so many enemies in the literary community

He did not see eye to eye with Rufus Wilmot Griswold, and considered Griswold a man of low intellect and artistry. In turn, Griswold described Poe as a pathetic drunk, womanizer and incoherent writer. The genesis of their feud may have come as result of Graham's Magazine replacing Poe with Griswold as editor. To make matters worse, Griswold was offered a much better pay than Poe used to get.

In the end, Griswold had the last laugh, although for a brief period of time. Griswold took to tarnishing Poe's image after Poe's death. He penned down the first biography of Edgar Allan Poe. The biography, titled "Memoir of the Author", was full of disparaging remarks and false assertions about Poe. Going under the pseudonym Ludwig, Griswold claimed that Poe was a complete deranged man who spent most of his time boozed and drugged up. However, it was later revealed that Griswold story contained fabricated evidences against Poe, especially the one about his usage of drugs.

Edgar Allan Poe had a very mysterious death

On its own, Edgar Allan Poe's death would qualify as a very moving and dark story. First of all, eye witnesses say that on the day that Poe was found in the street on October 3, 1849, he was wearing another man's clothes. Second, all throughout his stay in the hospital, doctors say that he kept uttering the name "Reynolds". These are two very strange facts about the circumstances surrounding his death. Up to this day, the exact circumstances and cause of Edgar Allen Poe's remain a mystery.

Lizzie Doten fabricated ghost story about Edgar Allan Poe

Long after his death, some unscrupulous writers tried to cash in on these strange facts. In one incident that happened in 1863, Lizzie Doten claimed that she was visited by the ghost of Edgar Allan Poe. And during those visits, Poe would offer her some of his unfinished poems and short stories. Fans of Poe were quick to disregard her story as a complete hoax aimed at gaining cheap publicity. Moreover, Lizzie Doten's so-called Poe inspired poems were simply awful and nowhere as good as Poe's works.

Poe was responsible for "the Balloon Hoax"

He published an absolutely false story about a European Balloonist Monck Mason in the New York Sun. This hoax came to be referred to as "the Balloon Hoax". In the story, published on April 13, 1844, Poe falsely claimed that Monck Mason journeyed across the Atlantic Ocean in only 75 hours using an air balloon. He even detailed the steps and apparatus that Monck took to cross the ocean. A few days after Poe's publication, the newspaper retracted the story.

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12 Major Facts about Edgar Allan Poe - World History Edu

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Born on January 19, 1809 in Boston Massachusetts, Edgar Allan Poe holds a very unique spot in American literature. His rise to fame came with his exquisitely written poems and macabre short stories that caught the attention of readers in ways very few authors of his generation could.

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As we hit record temperatures here in BC, I will admit I am already looking forward to some cooler Fall days. I am definitely a child of the Fall; cozy sweaters, new school supplies, and pumpkin spiced anything are pretty much my favorites. With Fall, of course, comes Halloween, and I absolutely love finding ways to incorporate this spooky holiday into my classroom. In middle school, my favorite way to do that is with Edgar Allan Poe. While the true king of American Gothic literature can be enjoyed any time of year, I particularly love bringing in Poe activities in the first few weeks before Halloween.
Be sure to read through to the bottom of this post - I have included a great Freebie all about this classic author!
Are you looking for a way to bring a little bit of darkness to your ELA curriculum in October? I have collected some of my very favorite Edgar Allan Poe activities and will be sharing them in a series of upcoming blog posts. They are sure to engage your middle school learners, and help focus the kiddos in the crazy days before Halloween.

Edgar Allan Poe - Reading Aloud "The Raven"

The stories of Poe often revolve around murder and madness. In "The Raven", however, Poe shows that true horror comes from losing someone you love.

Listening to this poem read aloud is pretty much essential - the language and rhythm really brings this classic work to life. The version above is one of my favorites, but there are lots of other great versions on YouTube if you do a little digging.

Close Reading Activities with Edgar Allan Poe

As many of Poe's works can be challenging for students, it is a great opportunity to work in a bit of close reading practice.

Close reading is a highly effective strategy that helps students better understand text. It asks them to dig deeper into what they have been reading, and back up their thinking with text evidence. According to Close Reading gurus Fisher and Frey, Close Reading is " an instructional routine in which students are guided in their understanding of complex text". Basically, Close Reading is an instructional approach that integrates several reading strategies, where students add knowledge gained from text to their schema. Doing so builds habits of successful readers, and builds stamina and persistence with complex text.

For more information on close reading, with tips and tricks to help set up this activity for success in your classroom, check out my previous post here.

I have created resources featuring three of Poe's classic tales with text annotation activities built directly into the passages. Students follow the directions on the page, marking up the text as they go. This really simplifies the process, as students don't have to go back and forth between multiple sheets of paper.

Text annotation also makes assessment easy, as you can clearly see the ways students have interacted with the text by the colors and words written all over the pages.

These annotation passages are especially helpful if your class anthology does not include these classic tales, as the resources contain full text versions.

Interested in trying one of these activities out in your classroom? Click on the images below to grab copies directly from my TPT shop!

Modern Day Narratives

Reading Poe with middle school students definitely requires some time spent on language dissection. The language Poe uses can sometimes be a bit challenging for students. A fun way to work through this is having students write their own "modern narratives". To do this, they re-write the poem into modern day language.

Writing a modern narrative is a great way to boost understanding of a text. Students really have to know a piece of writing in order to re-write it in a way that is easy to understand.

This is a great activity to complete after reading "The Raven". Because it is a shorter piece of writing, it lends itself well to the activity.

When students are done, we share our writing with partners. Their creativity always impresses me!

No unit on "The Raven" is complete without a viewing of the version done by The Simpsons, which really helps drive the idea of the "Modern Narrative" home.

You can snag these, as well as some other really great activities to use along with "The Raven", "The Black Cat", and "The Tell Tale Heart" in my TPT shop. Check them out by clicking her e or on the image below.

I hope that these lesson ideas help you bring some Halloween spirit into your ELA classroom this Fall. Stay tuned for the the rest of the posts in this series, where I will be sharing some more ideas for incorporating Edgar Allan Poe stories into your curriculum!

Interested in seeing my spooky Edgar Allan Poe resources in action? Check out the YouTube video below!

Looking for more Edgar Allan Poe lesson ideas?

Check out some of these engaging Poe activities! Click on the images below to go directly to my TPT store.

Looking for a fun Poe freebie?

This FREE resource is a fun way to introduce Edgar Allan Poe to your students. It includes an online research template so students can pop online and do some fact gathering about this spooky author. Click here or on the image below for instant access to your FREE copy!

Interested in signing up for my email list?

If you are interested in signing up for my email list, you can do so by clicking on the link below. I periodically send out emails with free resources, teaching tips, and exclusive deals. Signing up will also give you immediate access to some of my best selling Interactive Notebook resources - foldable activities, graphic organizers, and other fun activities.

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Edgar Allan Poe Activities for Middle School - Creative Classroom Core

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As we hit record temperatures here in BC, I will admit I am already looking forward to some cooler Fall days. I am definitely a child of the Fall; cozy sweaters, new school supplies, and pumpkin spiced anything are pretty much my favorites.

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The king of American Gothic literature can be celebrated any time of the year, but we tend to teach our Edgar Allan Poe unit around the fall months. We bring in the spooky backdrop of Halloween. Are you looking for new and exciting ways to celebrate one of the darkest writers of all time? Introducing Edgar Allan Poe activities into your classroom will make for a fun Fall with spooky stories. While Edgar Allan Poe's work is very dark in nature, students love how they welcome Fall (and a little "darkness") into their ELA classroom.

I know what you might be thinking, "Edgar Allan Poe's work can be difficult to comprehend and work through." While his writing style can be hard to grasp, students will delve into stories like The Tell-Tale Heart, and poems like, The Raven.

Flip Book Activities

One way to bring Poe's work into your classroom is with some fun interactive notebook style flip book activities. These flip book activities are a great way to review different literary elements you have learned while reading the various Edgar Allan Poe texts as well as the content of the story itself.

This flip book is a great interactive Edgar Allan Poe activity. We all know flip books can be hard to create, but this product has each "flap" lined up and ready to start; all students needs to do is follow the directions on assembly. In addition to the ready-to-go flaps, this flip book includes writing prompts, comprehension questions, and literary devices for poetry. All of these features come with answer keys to take yet another piece off your plate.

Not only will you have less to do with this activity, but your students will also get practice reading, citing evidence from the text, recalling events and details from the text, writing, and practicing inference skills without the "run-of-the-mill study guide.

Edgar Allan Poe has great poems, but his short stories have great style and the perfect level of creepiness for the Fall atmosphere.

This flip book activity has the flaps ready for your students to put together and includes questions about Edgar Allan Poe's biography, his short stories The Tell-Tale-Heart, Black Cat, ad Cask of Amontillado, as well as his poem The Raven. In addition to these questions, students will also be able to review literary devices, vocabulary, and the background of American Gothic Literature.

Using the Edgar Allan Poe Short Stories Flip Book, your students will practice reading, summarizing, recall details, writing, and making inferences. With all these great skills being practiced, this Edgar Allan Poe activity will have your students understanding the texts listed above in a whole new way.

Collaborative Writing

Whenever we can give students a chance to collaborate, great things can happen. By allowing our students to collaborate, more ideas flow and students lean valuable interpersonal skills that will always be useful. These Edgar Allan Poe activities are a great way to get your students working together all while reviewing your content!

How well do your students know Edgar Allan Poe? You will find out with this collaborative poster that will give your students a chance to color and use their creativity all while working together. Along with the artwork your students can work on, this collaborative poster has writing prompt as well as "brain-friendly" fun work.

The Edgar Allan Poe collaborative poster includes assembly instructions with tips to make your lesson run smoother than ever! Help your students become stronger writers while strengthening their interpersonal skills with this great activity.

Edgar Allan Poe is arguably one of the strangest men of all time (right up there with Stephen King)! When students get a chance to know what he was like, some of them may "buy into" his work more and want to learn about this crazy character. This biography project is a collaborative poster that asks students to analyze Edgar Allan Poe as an author as well as your "average Joe."

This collaborative poster includes clear instructions for assembly and reflection questions with an answer key.

Finally, the grand finale, the Digital Escape Room! Another great way to get students to work together is to "trap them" until they can work together to escape. Escape rooms are becoming more and more popular in our world today, so why not bring them into the classroom?

This digital escape room takes the story The Tell-Tale Heart and puts it into an innovative breakout game. The digital escape room features a 360 view, VR options, and incredible heartbeat sound effects. In addition, this activity helps your students work together as a team and use deductive reasoning.

Edgar Allan Poe is the master of mystery which is great for the Fall and Halloween season. Check out these great activities to enhance your students understanding of this amazing author and his works!

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5 Edgar Allan Poe Activities for Your Classroom - Study All Knight

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The king of American Gothic literature can be celebrated any time of the year, but we tend to teach our Edgar Allan Poe unit around the fall months. We bring in the spooky backdrop of Halloween. Are you looking for new and exciting ways to celebrate one of the darkest writers of all time?

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1. The first thing I did while reading the introductory paragraph of the story was cringe and frown. I've read this particular Poe work before on a different occasion but reading that first paragraph again reawakened the mental image of the Red Death. The thing that really got me was "...then profuse bleeding at the pores..." and somehow, I found that very off-putting. I had to turn my head away and stare at the floor for a couple seconds as I imagined someone bleeding through their pores. Not exactly a good image. 2 One could say that the reason why Poe uses such vivid imagery to describe Prospero's hall is because he wanted to show the readers the grandeur and splendor of it all. By additionally describing the colors of window panes, walls, and carpets, each of those elements work together to further heighten and foreshadow the final dramatic scene. The seventh black-red corridor holds the ivory clock, and both are symbols of the death the partygoers would never be able to escape.

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Edgar Allan Poe Assessment.docx - 1. The first thing I did while reading the introductory paragraph of the story was cringe and frown. I've read this | Course Hero

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The preview shows page 1 - 2 out of 2 pages. 1. The first thing I did while reading the introductory paragraph of the story was cringe and frown. I've read this particular Poe work before on a different occasion but reading that first paragraph again reawakened the mental image of the Red Death.