Poe of the Perverse

     For the past several months I've been reading the Complete Works of Edgar Allan Poe on the side.  Poe being a wordy man, it has been quite the tedious task.  I find that often instead of taking the most direct route to his intended meaning, he twists and turns and detours down dark alleys, into open doorways, and through crumbling houses.

     It has not, however, been an unpleasant endeavor.  In fact, it's been enlightening.  Poe has a reputation for morbidity, for the grotesque and perverse.  While these are certainly qualities that can be found somewhere in his writing, most of his works are more ironic than horrific.  He is not just a writer, but an observer and exhibitionist of human nature.  Beneath his eloquence is purity, an honest look at the evil behaviors that come so naturally to man.  He takes what we hide in the darkness and brings it to light.  He forces us to look our imperfections in the face and admit that we are sinful creatures.  We are liars, we are thieves.  We take advantage, we seek revenge.  

     Poe is, in a way, therapeutic.  He causes one to turn, to look inside one's self and reflect upon the soul.  He teaches us about the world, about others, but more than anything he teaches us, the readers, about ourselves.  This could be considered hypocritical (he was a man with many demons he didn't care to face), but I like to believe that it is a message, a warning not to suffer the same fate.  Poe is, secretly, rescuing his readers.  He is a melancholy man, perhaps, but also a hero.  If we listen, we can save ourselves.