Tim Doherty Reality Complicates
Romance Two months ago, I wrote an essay that does not fill me
with shame to re-read. I stand by most of it. The stylistic flourishes did not
always work. The final paragraph of the essay betrays the naively superficial
lesson I had learned to that point. Before the midterm, historical turmoil had
not yet complicated the American Renaissance. My midterm essay on this same subject is a victim of its
moment in time. The writer I was in love those early days, from the unspoiled
vistas of Washington Irving’s Hudson Valley to the urban gothic charm of Maria
Susanna Cummins’s The Lamplighter. I
was unaware, in that moment, as I picked a research topic and grew confident, of
what lay ahead. The historical context of the period cannot be ignored any more.
While Irving’s characters cavorted in innocence, a few miles to the south the
peak of human savagery rolled toward its violent final moments. A newborn nation
was on the verge of ripping itself apart. What I find most fascinating about studying the American
Renaissance is the evolution of styles as Romanticism begins to yield to Realism
in the last third of the 19th century. Louisa May Alcott’s
Hospital Sketches skips playfully
between Romanticism and Realism, even incorporating Gothic elements. In
paragraph 4.55, Alcott writes of “the grey veil falling that no human hand can
lift.” She follows that Romantic metaphor with the Realism of sitting by John,
wiping his sweat, and fanning him. Evolution can be seen in Frederick Douglass’s style when
his “Oration in Memory of Abraham Lincoln” weaves Romantic, elevated language
into a Realistic appraisal of Lincoln’s character. “Truth is proper and
beautiful at all times and in all places…” is beautifully transcendental, then
Douglass deflates the ideal Lincoln, who was not “our man or our model.”(1) Romantic rhetoric and archetypes play important roles in
non-fiction stories, especially slave narratives. Harriet Jacobs and Frederick
Douglass knew when and how to elevate elements of a scene to amplify its effect
on the reader. Douglass uses lurid, “warm, red blood… dripping to the floor” to
elevate the impact of a brutal whipping in the narrative of his life. (1.13)
Here he lets emotion color the imagery that punctuates a stoic recitation of
human depravity. Douglass’s writing stands up next to any writer of the era for
its richness and creativity. Each week of this course dissected another layer of a
fascinating era in American Literature. Processes begun in August continue to
improve my literacy. Re-reading texts from just a few weeks ago as I compile
this final, I noticed new dimensions and subtler uses of Romantic rhetoric. This
was my first Literature class. I look forward to seeing how the lessons of the
coming semesters begin to affect my writing.
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