LITR 4232 American Renaissance 2012 Student Midterm Samples #1. Long essay describing and focusing learning, challenges, issues concerning American Renaissance or American Romantic literature. (6-8 paragraphs)

Andrew Feith

         Carried Away by a Renaissance

The texts for Prof. White’s American Renaissance class are a challenge to me because they come from some 150 years ago, when Americans expressed themselves in a very different style. The very difficulty of the texts, however, is a part of the reason why the course is significant. Reading these texts gives me a feeling for what was going on in the literary world of the first half of the 19^th century in the United States. Dr. White has suggested that the course could just as well be called “American Romanticism,” and I’ve found that concept to be wide enough to embrace very different kinds of literature. A story by Poe is a far different experience than an essay by Emerson, and Washington Irving’s matter-of-factness contrasts with Walt Whitman’s ecstatic catalogues. All of these examples of American romanticism focus on the “heroic individual” and the extreme emotional highs and lows of his journey, often played out over the background of an untamed nature that is both a balm for the soul and a dispassionate power.

          We’ve also spent some time making distinctions between classic, popular, and representative literature. We’ve discussed the problem of how teachers must choose a limited number of books to read in class, and how different schools of thought (public schools, Protestant private schools, Catholic private schools) tend to favor different ratios of classic, popular, and representative. I have a bias toward popular literature; like plenty of other students, I just have a much easier time getting through it. Luckily, there is some overlap between popular and classic literature. Irving’s “Rip Van Winkle” and Warner’s The Wide, Wide World were the easiest for me to read, and they both straddle that line between the classic and the popular. The Lamplighter, on the other hand, I have just about zero patience for. I felt like the characterization of the pitiful young girl was just way too heavyhanded [ . . . ] .

          This brings to mind a problem I had the day when we discussed The Wide, Wide World and The Lamplighter; everyone who spoke seemed to have nothing but contempt for Ellen, and defended Miss Fortune as a basically decent guardian. Honestly, I was enraged and hurt, and couldn’t bring myself to voice my strong disagreement. First of all, I fault Ellen’s mother for telling her, in essence, “Your Aunt Fortune may be as cold to you as she likes; she may even be abusive, but if she doesn’t like you, it’s your fault and your fault alone.” And Aunt Fortune is a terrible caregiver; she is constitutionally unable to show the child any sign of warmth, and she actually tells Ellen to her face that her (Ellen’s) mother made the wrong decision marrying her father. And the third and final choice that angered me was the constant urging of Ellen’s mother and of Miss Alice that when Ellen is in conflict with another person (usually Miss Fortune), she must always go to God, confess more sins, and humble herself further. She must never draw a line in the sand and say, “enough.” This kind of advice to a young girl is, I suspect, much different than what a young boy would have been told, and sets her up to accept any amount of abuse without standing up for herself. And then, even if she were to go to an adult for help, she might very well get more of this shoddy “lay back and take it” kind of advice.

          Clearly I carried myself away on a wave of emotion there, but I suppose the unifying theme here is that reading these texts gives a person a real feel not just for how people used to write and speak, but also for what they believed and how they behaved. Popular literature is especially good for answering those questions. Classic literature, which typically had fewer readers at the time of its publication, tends to be more removed from the masses, more self-aware of its pretensions to literary excellence, and a bit harder to read and understand. I’m a fan of Whitman’s “I sing the body electric,” largely because it crosses the lines of what would have been considered tasteful by most. His “song” appreciates and celebrates creation with a transcendent embrace of the entirety of it. Contrast that to a song sung in unison at a church on a Sunday morning. That kind of visionary innovation is what elevates classic lit “above” popular lit. And “I sing the body electric” is a gem of the American Renaissance because it breaks with tradition, both in its content and in its style, thereby leading the way for the “rebirth” that the word “renaissance” implies.