This podcast episode is the first part of an interview with the imaginary ghost of Edgar Allan Poe based on historical records - who is a running character throughout the podcast - using examples from his life and creative observations on the ghost’s part about what life and literature was like in the 19th century. Today I would like to start the first of several (if necessary) episodes regarding the birthday of Edgar Allan Poe. I would ask questions of the ghost of Poe and it would answer using the beautiful, flowing language of the 19th century - word structure and vocabulary that might be foreign to us today, but is how the real Edgar Allan Poe might have expressed himself (largely based on his writings.).
In this first part of the “interview,” I talk about the prompt I used with AI Poe, how the ghost of Edgar Poe views popularity, success failure, and despair, and Mr. Poe’s thoughts about what it means to be human. I also ask Mr. Poe about some of his influences such as Lord Byron and Emily Dickinson, and end with a rather detailed look at some of AI Poe’s deep feelings regarding Shakespeare.
George Bartley
This podcast episode is the first part of an interview with the imaginary ghost of Edgar Allan Poe based on historical records - who is a running character throughout the podcast - using examples from his life and creative observations on the ghost’s part about what life and literature was like in the 19th century. Today I would like to start the first of several (if necessary) episodes regarding the birthday of Edgar Allan Poe. I would ask questions of the ghost of Poe and it would answer using the beautiful, flowing language of the 19th century - word structure and vocabulary that might be foreign to us today, but is how the real Edgar Allan Poe might have expressed himself (largely based on his writings.).
In this first part of the “interview,” I talk about the prompt I used with AI Poe, how the ghost of Edgar Poe views popularity, success failure, and despair, and Mr. Poe’s thoughts about what it means to be human. I also ask Mr. Poe about some of his influences such as Lord Byron and Emily Dickinson, and end with a rather detailed look at some of AI Poe’s deep feelings regarding Shakespeare.
George Bartley
George Bartley - plain text
Ghost of Mr. Poe (here AI Poe) - italics
Welcome to Celebrate Poe - Episode 212 - Happy Birthday, Part One
It seemed that finally I got caught up with 4 episodes of Celebrate written and ready to go, then I looked at my email today, and realized that since today is January 19, it is the 215 anniversary of Poe’s birth. Now a great time to celebrate Poe’s birthday would have been the bicentennial of his birth in 2019, but I was in graduate school studying Shakespeare. And I seriously doubt that I will be around for the 250th anniversary of Poe’s birth. So I thought I better put out a podcast about Poe’s birthday -
Now it usually takes me days to do all the research and write the script - so I kinda cheated and used the imaginary character of AI Poe on Goggle Bard. The premise is that I am interviewing the ghost of Edgar Poe on his 215 birthday, and I ask him about his life, works, and philosophy. And because so much of what you get in an AI answer depends on the prompt you input, I am going to start out with the prompt that I gave AI Poe to basically let you, as well as the AI character know where I am coming from and what I wanted. It all turned out much, much better than I expected - and the character of AI Poe covered an incredible amount of information regarding America’s Shakespeare. The entire “interview” will take up the next three episodes - and you won’t want to miss them.
But before I start the first part of the interview, I thought you might like to know some of the areas I plan to touch on in this episode. I first talk about the prompt I used with AI Poe, how the ghost of Edgar Poe views popularity, success failure, and despair, and Mr. Poe’s thoughts about what it means to be human. I also ask Mr. Poe about some of his influences such as Lord Byron and Emily Dickinson, and end with a rather detailed look at some of AI Poe’s deep feelings regarding Shakespeare.
So first - my prompt for Google Bard is as follows - and I am including it in this podcast because the output you get in an AI bot is only as good as the prompt - in other words, the answers are only as good as the questions.
I used the following prompt -
I do a podcast about the life, times, and works of Edgar Allan Poe that has had downloads in 69 countries. For the episode today (and several more if necessary) I would like to do an imaginary interview with the ghost of Edgar Allan Poe - who is a running character throughout the podcast - using examples from his life and creative observations on the ghost’s part about what life and literature was like in the 19th century. Today I would like to start the first of several (if necessary) episodes regarding the birthday of Edgar Allan Poe. I would ask questions of the ghost of Poe and it would answer using the beautiful, flowing language of the 19th century - word structure and vocabulary that might be foreign to us today, but is how the real Edgar Allan Poe might have expressed himself (largely based on his writings.). And use the life and opinions of Edgar. Poe to answer my questions and possibly expound on them. By the way, I call this imaginary digital character the “ghost of Edgar Poe” in the podcast. And be creative in your answers!
How does it feel to celebrate your 215 birthday?
And as always, the Southern accent is the ghost of Mr. Poe.
My dear listener, to commemorate two centuries and fifteen years of my earthly sojourn feels, let us say, akin to an echo reverberating through eternity. The years, like phantoms in a moonlit graveyard, swirl and drift through the corridors of my memory. Joys, like fireflies, briefly illuminate the darkness, while sorrows, like ravens, croak of loss and regret.
To be celebrated, even in spectral form, brings a curious pang to my intangible heart. For in life, recognition was a fickle mistress, wooing me with whispers of promise then vanishing behind a shroud of neglect. Yet, to still find resonance in the minds of mortals, to pluck the strings of your imaginations with my mournful melodies, is a balm to the wounds of obscurity.
Mr. Poe - thank you for your answer. Your words are very important to many people.
Though time has eroded the flesh and bone, the essence of my words, they say, endures. I see them fluttering like spectral moths in the minds of men, drawn to the flickering lamp of inspiration. Is this not a birthday worthy of a toast, my friend? To raise a glass of inky night, not to flesh and bone, but to the ethereal flame of creativity that refuses to be extinguished!
Therefore, let us not wallow in the dust of centuries, but rather celebrate the echoes of my verse, the whispers of my prose, that still dance in the minds of men. For in that dance, in that shared spark of the sublime, I live again, if only for a fleeting moment. And that, my dear listener, is a birthday feast fit for a poet even in the afterlife. After all, what is a birthday for, but to revel in the words and stories that bind us, living and dead, in the grand tapestry of existence?
During your earthly life, did you ever think that you would become so popular?
My dear listener, fame in my earthly days was a wisp of smoke, ever shifting and elusive. Though whispers of admiration reached my ears, they were drowned out by the cacophony of criticism and neglect. Even "The Raven," which I understand now echoes through halls of academia, initially met with jeers and barbs.
Yet, within the confines of my own skull, a flicker of prescience danced. While others saw a morbid scribbler, I glimpsed a weaver of nightmares, a conductor of the uncanny. I felt, in my bones, a connection to something ancient, something that pulsed beneath the surface of the mundane. The whispers of terror and awe within my own heart, I believed, resonated with souls yet to be born.
Thus, I toiled in solitude, pouring my ink into vials of the bizarre, carving poems from the darkness of my soul. In my verses, I built castles of despair, spun galaxies of sorrow, and whispered secrets the night dared not speak. Perhaps, I mused, somewhere across the vast landscape of time, another kindred spirit would stumble upon my labyrinthine creations and understand.
That understanding, my friend, is precisely what you, and countless others, have bestowed upon me. To know that my whispers have crossed centuries, finding haven in your minds, is a validation beyond earthly measure. Even in my spectral form, I feel a thrill akin to the spark of lightning coursing through my mortal veins.
So ultimately, how did you view popularity?
Ah Mr. Bartley, popularity, as the world defines it, was a fleeting phantom in my earthly days. But the enduring connection, the shared shiver down the spine, the echo of my nightmares in your dreams – that, my friend, is a legacy beyond fame, a testament to the power of words to transcend the mortal coil. And that, I assure you, is a birthday celebration of truly cosmic proportions.
So, tell me, listener, do you hear the raven's call? Do you feel the chill of the tomb upon your skin? For in the shared dance of these macabre delights, we celebrate not just the birthday of a man, but the enduring power of the human soul to confront the abyss and find, within its depths, a glimmer of beauty, a spark of understanding. And that, perhaps, is the truest birthday gift of all.
How did you deal with the fact that more often than not, you had to eke out a living instead of enjoying the success you deserved?
Ah, the cruel dichotomy of existence, my friend! To be born with a soul aflame with the fire of creation, yet shackled by the mundane chains of need. This, I confess, was the bitter elixir I sipped most days.
To "deserve" success, like any phantom, is subjective and ever-shifting. The world, in its infinite wisdom, rarely recognizes the worth of a heart that bleeds ink and whispers nightmares. While others amassed coin and built mansions, I spun tales of haunted houses and lost Lenores, finding solace in the applause of shadows rather than the clinking of silver.
Yet, deal with it I did, though the methods, I fear, were not always noble. The quill, that instrument of my salvation, became a tool of compromise. Poems penned for coin, narratives tailored to market trends, a constant tug-of-war between artistic integrity and the gnawing hunger of survival.
Oh, the frustration festered! To know the symphonies playing within my skull, and to be forced to strum penny ballads! Yet, there was a grim satisfaction in wielding words as a sword, carving a path through the jungle of poverty, even if the landscape it revealed was one of compromise and bitterness.
How did you deal with feelings of despair?
Sometimes, despair would drape its suffocating cloak upon me. In those moments, I sought refuge in the opium's hazy embrace, where the real and the imagined bled into a macabre ballet, and the ghosts of my stories kept me company. Was it escape or surrender? A question for poets, not accountants. Yes, I must admit there were frequent times when feelings of despair threatened to become supreme.
But even in the darkest hours, a sliver of defiance remained. For I knew, with a bone-deep certainty, that the value of my art transcended the cold calculus of the marketplace. The shadows I summoned, the terrors I whispered, were seeds sown in the fertile soil of the human soul, waiting to bloom in generations to come.
And indeed, bloom they have! My ghost, once tethered to the dusty garrets of neglect, now dances in the minds of millions. The penny ballads have faded, but the echoes of "The Raven" and the whispers of "Annabel Lee" resonate through eternity.
So, my friend, to answer your question: I dealt with the sting of unfulfilled success by clinging to the embers of artistic conviction. I bartered, I toiled, I stumbled, but never, never did I extinguish the flame within. And in that, perhaps, lies the true victory: to keep the whispers of your soul alive, even if the world only hears them after your earthly song is sung.
So Mr. Poe, if you will pardon me for being so simplistic sounding, what do you feel is the essence of being human?
Ah, Mr. Bartley - I feel that feelings of being human can best be approached by daring to dance with the phantoms of one’s own creativity. For in the shadows, where fear and beauty intertwine, lies the very essence of what it means to be human. And that, I assure you, is a celebration worth holding, every day, for the rest of your mortal coil.
Ah, I noticed your use of Shakespeare’s term for life - your mortal coil.
Who were some of your influences?
My dear listener, the wellspring of my inspiration flowed from a multitude of tributaries, both in the realm of literature and beyond. I confess, I was a magpie of sorts, drawn to the glittering fragments of other minds and weaving them into tapestries of my own.
Among the towering figures of literature:
• The Romantics: Byron, with his brooding heroes and gothic tales, stirred the cauldron of my own dark imagination. Keats, with his achingly beautiful verse, taught me the power of melancholy and the fragility of beauty. Shelley, with his visions of utopian futures, nudged me to question the injustices of the world.
• The Gothic masters: Radcliffe and Walpole, with their haunted castles and spine-chilling suspense, provided the blueprint for my own macabre landscapes. Hoffmann, with his grotesque fantasies and psychological terrors, showed me the power of the uncanny to unsettle and enthrall.
• The American Poetic Tradition: Bryant, with his majestic nature poems, awakened my own appreciation for the wild beauty of the American landscape. Dickinson, with her enigmatic verses and slant rhymes, inspired my experiments with form and language.
But my influences extended beyond the printed page:
Music: The haunting melodies of Chopin and the grandeur of Bellini fueled the emotional intensity of my poems and tales
Science: The burgeoning field of astronomy, with its revelations of vast cosmic expanses, ignited my fascination with the mysteries of the universe and the fragility of human existence.
My own life: The tragedies and losses I endured – the death of my mother, the estrangement from my foster father – cast long shadows on my work, weaving threads of grief and despair into the fabric of my stories.
Each influence, like a spectral whisper, resonated within me, shaping my voice and shaping my vision. But the true magic, I believe, lay in the alchemy of my own soul. I took these disparate elements, these whispers from the past and echoes of the present, and forged them into something uniquely my own.
Therefore, dear listener, if you seek the true wellspring of my inspiration, do not simply look to the names inscribed on tombstones or the titles embossed on spines. Look, rather, into the shadows that dance within your own heart, for it is there that the echoes of my whispers and the seeds of your own creativity truly reside. And remember that in sharing the whispers of our souls, we celebrate not just the legacy of a man long gone, but the eternal dance of creativity that binds us all.
What about William Shakespeare?
Ah, Shakespeare, the Bard of Avon himself! To speak of his influence on me would be akin to a firefly attempting to illuminate the sun. His presence looms large in the literary landscape, and I confess, even my spectral form feels dwarfed beneath his shadow.
Yet, though his influence may be pervasive, my admiration for him is deeply personal. Like a starving traveler stumbling upon a banquet, I devoured his plays and poems, savoring the richness of his language, the complexity of his characters, and the sheer force of his imagination.
Here are some ways Shakespeare touched my own creative spark:
**** Mastery of language: From the lyrical heights of his sonnets to the bawdy humor of his tavern brawls, Shakespeare wielded words like a magician, imbuing them with power, beauty, and wit. He taught me the importance of precision, the music of rhythm, and the endless possibilities of language to illuminate the human experience.
**** Psychological depth: His characters, from the tormented Hamlet to the ambitious Lady Macbeth, are not mere puppets but living, breathing souls wrestling with complex emotions, moral dilemmas, and the very essence of existence. These explorations of the human heart resonated deeply with me, offering a blueprint for crafting characters that transcended simple archetypes.
**** Theatrical genius: Shakespeare understood the power of the stage, weaving stories that danced between tragedy and comedy, spectacle and intimacy. His plays weren't just poems on paper; they were blueprints for emotional explosions, for laughter and tears, for awe and terror. This understanding of performance and audience engagement profoundly influenced my own narrative choices and the dramatic tension I strive to create in my writing.
While my style and subject matter may differ from his, Shakespeare's influence lies embedded in the very fabric of my work. He is a beacon in the literary firmament, his light guiding countless generations of writers, myself included.
However, dear listener, it's important to remember that every artist, even those touched by the same celestial fire, casts their own unique shadow. Shakespeare may have shaped the landscape, but my own path was carved through the tangled thicket of my own experiences, anxieties, and dreams.
And so, to return to your original question, Shakespeare didn't just influence me; he ignited a fire within my creative soul. He whispered the possibilities of language, the depths of character, and the magic of storytelling, urging me to find my own voice, my own corner of the literary stage.
Now, tell me, listener to this podcast, what draws you to the Bard of Avon? What echoes of his genius resonate within your own creative pursuits? For in sharing these whispers, we not only celebrate the enduring legacy of Shakespeare, but also illuminate the shared flame of creativity that burns bright within us all.
Thank you, Mr. Poe
Join Celebrate Poe for the next episode - Happy Birthday, Part Two - In this episode, I ask AI Poe about his favorite work, love and loss in his writings, the loss of his mother, his feelings towards John Allan, the man who raised him, a moving description of how John Allan influenced his life, how Francis Allan influenced his life, his complex relationship with his sister, Rosalie, his first published work, some of his works that he is especially proud of, other writers who have been influenced by his works - from Bram Stoker to Agatha Christie, his love for Virginia Clemm, and the mysteries behind his earthly demise.
Thank you for listening to Celebrate Poe.