When I was a kid we studied a lot of Poe. I believe it was primarily a lack of choices ... but unlike Jack London I never acquired any real disdain for his work even though there were mass quantities set before me.
Edgar Allan Poe was born January 19, 1809 and passed this earthly existence October 7, 1849. He was a writer of the macabre and mystery but also was a writer of other things, a literature critic, a poet, and an editor.
Though his place is said to be Romanticism my particular interest in his work spans the short story, the writing of which he was a virtuoso. I cannot count the titles of his under my belt. Each one required a book report which I attacked with considerable gusto.
I remember little Miss Redding-Williams at Goose Creek High School. She was about the only bright spot at that hell hole until she sent me to that surly rude bitch "Miss Van" for a big dose of fugly insufferable attitude.
Anyway, the work of Edgar Allan Poe has cast influence around the world as it pertains to literature. He's one of those characters I would have liked to meet in person ...
But alas, as in other situations where I met someone I admired from afar I likely would have been better served keeping my distance instead of exploding the myth as has happened on all too many occasions with the noteworthy in my life.
Poe was born in Boston and died in Baltimore from causes which are only speculation. It has been said he had severe issues with substance abuse.
He leaves a literary legacy few will ever surpass from a standpoint of sheer readability and human interest.