John Silverio Bradstreet: A Teaspoon of Things to Come
Though I will never meet Anne Bradstreet, a hearty handshake is in order. Even
better, a hypothetical writer’s workshop where I would hope to glean something
in the way of writing with both simplicity and emotion. Bradstreet lived from
1612 to 1672 and achieved fame for her collection of poetry titled
The Tenth Muse Lately Sprung Up In
America. A Puritan upbringing. Immortalization in stained glass. A husband
who helped found Harvard College. These details do not seem to add up to an
individual who can speak for me and my experiences, but when I read Bradstreet’s
poetry I feel, simply put, like she’s singing my song. Generally speaking, her
poems cover subjects like family, spirituality, and children. But one poem in
particular, The Author to her Book,
unites the subjects of raising a child and being a writer. Bradstreet depicts a
nervousness and vulnerability inherent to the writing process – sensations I
feel today, in this moment, as I compose this essay. Bradstreet’s metaphor of a
book being like a child (and in turn, an author being like a mother) raises the
stakes of the writing process, displays the writing process as something
intensely vulnerable, and rebels against longstanding Puritan values.
Though modern literary practice adorns Bradstreet with the title of
“Tenth Muse”, the first few lines of The
Author to her Book seem to disagree with this status. Of her own writing,
Bradstreet attributes the words “ill-formed offspring of my feeble brain” (line
1); this deluge of negativity demonstrates either a tremendous sarcastic tone or
a severe humility. The poet continues to assert the meekness of her writing with
words such as “rags” (which could also mean pages, thus furthering the metaphor)
that fall under judgement when “exposed to public view”. The word “exposed”
recalls emotions of nudity and shame, and shows the reader what embarrassment
Bradstreet felt when her writing fell under scrutiny.
Writers feel the preciousness to words you compose in the privacy of your own
mind, the violation of that privacy as others read them. Even if writing is
purely for a grade and not for self-expression, for me it is impossible to write
words and not care about them. Will they achieve all I hope for them? Will they
be as beloved to others as they are to me? There is a parental pride as I lean
back in a worn office chair after a hard night’s labor, but then a lack of eye
contact and a quiet voice whenever the morning of peer review dawns.
Bradstreet’s comparison of her written word to a “rambling brat (in print)”
shows a self-awareness of room to grow as a writer, and a less than proud view
of her own words. Any honest writer attempting greatness can find themselves
with a similar mindset. There is risk in releasing your young words out into the
world.
The vulnerability of Bradstreet’s written offspring is highlighted by the
cruelty of the audience. In lines 2 and 3, those who receive her writing receive
the description of “less wise than true”. This less than flattering description
of her readers is the beginning of Bradstreet’s rebellion against her
surroundings. Writing empowers the poet, despite her low female status in
Puritan society, to insult with humor. Later in the poem her boldness climaxes.
Line 22 reads “If for the father askt, say, thou hadst none;”, shrugging off
male dominance. The next line identifies the female as the one in control of the
child. Bluntly speaking, claiming this type of agency as a woman was frowned
upon back then. Yet through writing, Bradstreet weaves a criticism against male
patriarchy into her poem and becomes not only the “Tenth Muse”, but also a
precursor to more significant feminist movements in the United States.
Bradstreet’s poem remains cohesive throughout the work due to the highly
symbolic metaphorical conceit of comparing writing to a vulnerable child.
Whether all her symbolism and resemblances to contemporary writing styles were
intentional or not is a moot discussion. The fact remains that the poems imagery
and diction resonate with writers, mothers, and even those who have dared to
attempt creativity. A tip of the hat to Bradstreet, and a reverent bow as well.
Her reputation as the Tenth Muse is well earned – even this work makes her out
to be too humble to accept such an accolade.
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