Great poetry meets great reader of poetry.
Emily Dickinson was a poet I already admired, but Helen Vendler’s commentaries deepened my appreciation. In addition, they teach by demonstration how we can become better readers of poetry through emulating her careful attention to rhyme, meter, word choice, and syntax. The insights that Vendler’s reading yields not only opened poems that had been opaque to me; even in Dickinson’s relatively accessible poems, I saw much I had missed.
Vendler’s approach to Dickinson’s work is not limited to the poems themselves. She delves into the vast array of literature that Dickinson had read and internalized, including Shakespeare, the King James Bible, Keats, Wordsworth, and much more. Vendler even consulted the same edition of Webster’s Dictionary (1844) that Dickinson used, adding another layer of depth to her analysis.
Dickinson was not only a student of great writing; she keenly enjoyed nature and its seasons. She was also an astute observer of human behavior — both in those around her and in her own incandescent spirit. As Vendler writes, the result was to make her “the inventive reconciever and linguistic shaper of her perennial themes: nature, death, religion, love, and the workings of the mind and thought.”
Although Vendler suggests dipping into this book wherever one’s interest may lead, I read it consecutively. Some days, I read as many as twenty poems with commentary; other days, only one or two. Since a rough chronological order for most of her poems has been established, this gave me a feel for Dickinson’s development.
Astonishingly, this generous selection covers less than ten percent of Dickinson’s oeuvre. With the tools Vendler has shared with us, there is much to discover.