I’ve read my fair share of books on Edgar Allan Poe, but I have to say that Mark Dawidziak’s A Mystery of Mystery: The Death and Life of Edgar Allan Poe is perhaps the best. Like Dawidziak, I realize that writers, as well as other historical figures, come to be who we need them to be. This book, which pinwheels around the unsolved cause of Poe’s death, is probing of his life as well. His younger years and his likely psychological profile as a child who never felt he received the love and affirmation that he required, really spoke loudly. This explains much of his behavior, which was often contradictory and didn’t serve his own best interests. Today Poe is an icon of horror, but as this wonderful book explains, Poe was so much more.
People are often typecast. We have limited time and our own lives are so crowded with stuff we have to do that, as a matter of survival, we need to “profile” others. I’m constantly reminded of this when I spend time with people (which is not often), particularly those I know well. I leave realizing that I don’t know them as well as I think I do. I’ve only seen the surface, or just below, if I managed to engage with any depth. My own involvement with Poe goes beyond memory. As in a dream, I don’t know when I was first exposed to him or his writing. Still, I know that I’ve had a lifelong “parasocial relationship” with him. I suspect that many of us who appreciate his writing do. Well, back to the book.
A Mystery of Mysteries begins near Poe’s death, setting the stage. The chapters then alternate, going back to a chronological treatment of his early life, and then picking up the narrative of his death. Along the way, a compelling portrait is painted. Like the majority of us who write, Poe didn’t find much recognition in his own lifetime. Of course, he died young, but his lifestyle might well have created that situation, regardless. Jealous of others who received more attention, Poe knew he had a special intelligence that was unappreciated. It still is. Yes, Poe has many, many fans, but many, I suspect, don’t have a good idea of who he was as a human being. For as much as he wrote, Poe didn’t really give us reliable details of his own life. Dawidziak ends with some well-reasoned speculation of Poe’s cause of death. But I won’t tell you what he suggests because I want you to read this excellent book.
