The first publication of Edna St. Vincent Millay’s private, intimate diaries, providing “a candid self-portrait of the ‘bad girl of American letters’” (Kirkus Reviews)
“Provides an occasion to revisit not just [Millay’s] improbable life but also her sometimes revelatory work.”—Abigail Deutsch, Wall Street Journal
“Rapture and Melancholy paints a picture of artistic triumph, romantic tumult, and a daily life that descended into addiction.”—Heather Clark, New York Times Book Review
The English author Thomas Hardy proclaimed that America had two great attractions: the skyscraper, and the poetry of Edna St. Vincent Millay. In these diaries the great American poet illuminates not only her literary genius, but her life as a devoted daughter, sister, wife, and public heroine; and finally as a solitary, tragic figure.
This is the first publication of the diaries she kept from adolescence until middle age, between 1907 and 1949, focused on her most productive years. Who was the girl who wrote “Renascence,” that marvel of early twentieth-century poetry? What trauma or spiritual journey inspired the poem? And after such celebrity why did she vanish into near seclusion after 1940? These questions hover over the life and work, and trouble biographers and readers alike. Intimate, eloquent, these confessions and keen observations provide the key to understanding Millay’s journey from small-town obscurity to world fame, and the tragedy of her demise.
Edna St. Vincent Millay was an American lyrical poet and playwright. She received the Pulitzer Prize for Poetry in 1923, the third woman to win the award for poetry, and was also known for her feminist activism and her many love affairs. She used the pseudonym Nancy Boyd for her prose work.
This famous portrait of Vincent (as she was called by friends) was taken by Carl Van Vechten in 1933.
My candle burns at both ends; It will not last the night; But ah, my foes, and oh, my friends— It gives a lovely light! --First Fig - Edna St. Vincent Millay (1892-1950)
Born in 1892, this offers a glimpse of Edna St. Vincent Millay’s life from 1907, at the age of sixteen, until her passing in 1950 through the diaries she kept. Her father left shortly after her two sisters were born, and her parents divorce followed. With the help of friends and neighbors, Edna, young as she was, served as a surrogate mother. She assumed the care and control of her younger siblings as well as the household, and life went on but was understandably difficult for her. Severe illnesses affected her two sisters, one from influenza which almost took her life, and the other infantile paralysis, and they left their home and went to live with her Uncle Fred, followed by their Aunt Clara. Sometime after, they rented a cottage which offered minimal comfort - wind coming through the slats in the walls, and no indoor plumbing other than a cold water tap in the kitchen. For many of her teen years, she was left to care for her two sisters when her mother was needed in her job as a nurse. It was in this cottage that she would begin keeping a journal, and where she would write the first of her poems that would be published, ’Renascence’, in a poetry contest by The Lyric Year. As a result, she obtained a scholarship to Vassar. Five years later, the year she graduated, she would publish her first book, Renascence and Other Poems.
Edna St. Vincent Millay was the first poet that I didn’t discover through my grandfather’s love of poetry and literature. Sometime around the year I was 12, my father brought me home a slim collection of her poetry, along with another book of poetry, among them several of her poems. As much as I loved Poe and Whitman, along with others, my heart soared reading her poems, if in a different way.
I didn’t know much about her personal life, I knew that she had lived, briefly, in Greenwich Village after she graduated from Vassar, so reading this added more dimension to her and her life, a more personal, brief glimpse into who she was beyond being one of my favourite poets.
There is much of this that is filled with her happiest moments and happiest years, meeting Sara Teasdale among other poets, her first opera, traveling to Europe, the early years of her marriage, and the home that she and her husband bought in Austerlitz, New York, but there is more to her life than happy, loving moments.
There are periods where entries in her diary, diaries, are very sporadic, especially between 1914 and 1927, but overall this is a fairly thorough glimpse into her life, and her thoughts. As the years passed, and her health declined, she suffered significantly, which led to addiction issues and a loss of connection, which then led to her seeking solitude, which likely led to even more despair.
Of note is that in her first diary, begun in 1907 at the age of fifteen, she makes it clear that anyone who even dares to open these pages is subject to ’the rack, the guillotine, the axe, the scaffold, or any other form of torture…’ In the years since her death selections have been made available for ‘credentialed scholars’, but this is the first time they will be published for the general public to access.
An intimate and illuminating glimpse into Millay’s life, from relative anonymity to a famous poet whose poems touched many, a journey through a life that ended sadly.
Published: 08 Mar 2022
Many thanks for the ARC provided by Yale University Press
Starting in 1907 as a teenager, Edna St Vincent Millay began documenting her life in a series of diaries, ending in 1949. These diaries chart her early hopes and dreams, her rise to fame as one of the most prominent American contemporary poets, her farm life with her husband Eugen, and her struggles with alcohol and morphine addiction.
I am not a reader of poetry – it simply doesn’t appeal to me terribly. Consequently my knowledge of all but the most well-known poets is a little lacking, though I have heard of Edna St. Vincent Millay before. On the other hand, as a fairly consistent diarist for over a decade, I’ve always been interested in the diaries of others and picked up this book because I thought it would be interesting to get to know a such once-prominent figure for the first time in such an intimate way.
Of course, this being a diary spanning such a period of time, the dates of the entries vary wildly, and as it was never written in expectation of being made public, its level of interest to the reader varies as well. I really enjoyed the early entries, full of Millay’s enthusiasm and her hopes and dreams – the passages on the dream lover for example I found really revealing. I also appreciated the notes and the introduction to each section of the diary, as they helped clarify many of the things Millay only alluded to, as well as present backdrops to situations that she apparently found too private to discuss in the diaries.
I liked the lyrical style of writing when it emerged, but Millay unfortunately usually stuck to more brusk recountings of people seen and things done that I often found myself skimming over. I also wished that she wrote more about her thoughts and feelings about things in the second distinct part of the diaries, as she had when she was young, for I felt we ended up missing out on a lot of the insight we had gotten early on. This is of course merely the nature of reading someone else’s private personal papers though.
In the introduction, the editor discusses various reasons why one may be compelled to publish a certain person’s diaries, and argue that in the case of Millay it is her fame and her literary prowess. Her fame I concede; her literary prowess is beyond doubt but the main problem for casual readers of this book I think is that it is not on display nearly as much as one hopes it would have been, so that only flashes of her true brilliance spring forth, the light of it mostly obscured by her more prosaic concerns.
Disclaimer: I received an ARC of this book from NetGalley. This is my honest and voluntary review
On the one hand, there is less here than one might want. Millay was only an intermittent diarist, and when her life was complicated she wrote less, not more.
On the other hand, the section from 1912 is worth the price of admission. Millay turned 20 that year, was at home being a glorified housekeeper for her two younger sisters while her mother worked as a traveling nurse to support the family (their father never paid any support), and she was just boiling over with the energy and talent and intelligence that were going unused. She wrote almost nothing while at Vassar once someone recognized her ability, thanks to her poem 'Renascence' being included in an anthology, at which point she became the astonishment of the literary world and immediately two people were competing to send her to the college of their choice. She wrote almost nothing immediately after Vassar until after she was married and settled at her home in Austerlitz, NY. And it was all fragmentary thereafter and has a lot to do with gardening and trouble with servants, and drinking and smoking or not drinking and smoking.
Also absorbing is an extended but unfinished outburst she wrote while in a psychiatric hospital in New York in the 1930s - eloquent and on fire with righteous indignation. Anybody who's ever had a therapist will recognize some of what she has to say.
Epstein's forwards to each section are perceptive and provide extremely useful context for what is and is not written there.
The last diary is mostly a log of medications administered, and ends before her husband died. It is difficult, after reading this, to imagine how she could have gone on even for a year without him, in the condition she had gotten into. Given how witty and intelligent she was as a young person, this is all the sadder.
It's also worth pondering how there used to be a time in the US when a great poet could also become wealthy through her talent. When she gave readings in cities all across the country, it was not unusual to have a thousand people attend. Although as Epstein points out, her gift began to fail her in the last decade of her life as her alcoholism and drug abuse worsened, she and her husband never had to worry about money and it was attributable in significant part to the success of her writing.
I have often said, ‘I love Edna St. Vincent Millay.’ Of course, this isn’t strictly true. What I mean is, ‘I love Edna St. Vincent Millay’s poetry.’ And that is very true, although I admit that I’ve often thought, in person, she would be… let’s just say a challenge. This book verified that. I actually really enjoyed it - Millay’s distinctive voice - which, as I said, I’ve loved for many years - was, unsurprisingly, on full display in her diary. But in the end, all I could think of was, while I will always and forever love her poetry, I have nothing but sympathy for those unfortunate enough to love her in person.
Thanks to NetGalley for providing an ARC copy for my review.
while a lot of this book was quite repetitive from what i'd already seen in savage beauty, i found that i enjoyed the structure of it more... i liked getting a glimpse of millay's life through her own voice, rather than an omniscient biographer's narration. especially the transition from the younger, self-assured, almost narcissistic voice to the more mature millay who is terrified of no longer being young & beautiful. i'm obsessed with how her writing in her diary still sounds like she's putting on an air of performance when there's no one to be performing for - when does the public millay end and the private millay begin? i don't think we'll ever find out. it wouldn't be millay without her propensity for drama & appearances <3
When I first realised this book was published I had this innate feeling - a conviction - to read it. Millay is one of my favourite poets - her 'Renascence' (at present) is my favourite poem. I eventually purchased the hardback edition (which is beautiful) and began reading. The book is, as described, a collection of her diaries which begin roughly when she was 15 years old, up to a year before her death in 1949.
What interested me about reading this book was my curiosity of Millay as a human being, the person who wrote 'Renascence' and many other iconic poems. For those who have read her work, it is clear that she can be blatantly existential but equally soothing, lyrical even. I wanted to learn about the woman behind the poems, and in her diaries presented in this book, you certainly do.
Naturally, because this book isn't a 'book' per se, but a series of diaries/diary entries, the contents are mostly descriptive (what she may do in her day, what she wears on the day and/or who she may see, what she is writing, etc) and sometimes introspective. The introspective aspects I was most interested in because, from a psychological perspective, I wanted to understand her better - what life events, or thoughts did she have for her to eventually write what she wrote?
Some readers may become bored of many entries - if not the majority - in this book. However, when Millay unleashes her inner thoughts and dialogues, it's often fascinating if not also saddenning. In any other case, it is often entertaining and humorous. The segments within her diaries that are captivating are especially captivating, though those which are monotonous are sometimes flat-out monotonous. This is the deal you must take if reading diary entries however, especially if they were never even intended for public consumption.
What makes this book especially good is not only the initial introduction, but each introduction to the various diary entries that Daniel Epstein wrote to provide historical and biographical context throughout the piece. I did enjoy reading this one, as I adore Millay's poetry so much. Of course, as mentioned, not every entry, if not most, are going to be as interesting as one another, but it does give the reader intimate insight into Millay as a human being rather than merely a masterful poet.
The problem for Edna St Vincent Millay, as for so many diarists, is that the more noteworthy a given period of her life, the less likely it was that she would find time to diarise it. Big stretches of this cover the era of her waiting for life to start; a shorter but distressing closing section covers the time when it was pretty much over. Yes, we also get glimpses of her first entry into the wider world, and then some sketches from Paris, London and Albania, but the first are spotty in the extreme and the latter beautiful but even more intermittent than usual. And as for her imperial phase? "it would appear that during that extraordinary decade, 1914-1924, she did not keep a diary because she had neither the time nor the energy to devote to it." More vexing still, while some people unleash in their diaries that which they cannot say in the official work, for the most part it's clear that Millay – quite legitimately, it must be noted – kept her genius for her work. Even in those last years, still producing, you'd hope that maybe her obvious delight in the wildlife around her at her last fastness, Steepletop, would inspire great flights of writing – especially when the images of birds in a tree is so central to one of her finest poems. Alas, no; you get occasional glimpses of that, including a brief but lovely evocation of life on Ragged Island, but for the most part it's just a list of what she's seen. And those are the good bits, in among the moans about how you can't get the staff, or the various health problems (most distressing of which must be the scratched cornea after a sleigh accident in a snowstorm – this is very much not how the song Sleigh Ride painted proceedings). By the end, it's pretty much a sad little record of drug doses, and hard reading when it's coming from a writer you feel like you know. But then, the start was hard reading too, albeit for different reasons, when the diary was initially given the persona of Mammy Hush-Chile (yes, I'm afraid so), before becoming the unknown Man for whom she longs.
More often, though, it's simply dull. From the early years: "Wed. June 8 Weather Fair Washed all day. Martha & Ethel were down a few minutes. Have promised myself to practice at least an hour a day. I got in almost two hours today. Worked on Mama's corset cover this evening."
Once things are looking up, and Millay's wealthy benefactors have sent her off to college: "Thursday, August 14 Algebra. Saturday, August 16 Algebra."
Or: "Monday, December 22 Nothing much." But each time you're wondering whether to skim, there's a morsel, as here, where the next entry, which should be infuriating but from her is wonderful, asks "I wonder why people love me so."
Still, if nothing else, the longueurs must reassure all of us who've occasionally noticed the Pooterish inconsequentiality of some of our own diary entries. Hell, it even offers some consolation for awful handwriting, with [?] a frequent guest and multiple [illegible]s to a page in Paris. And every now and then, it catches fire. Sometimes it's entertaining, as when her ten commandments to herself begin "1. Thou shalt not sit on thy foot 2. Thou shalt not cross thy knees", and generally suggest her as an early example of the notorious bisexual inability to sit sensibly. The humour can also come through the application of hindsight, of course: "Boys don't like me because I won't let them kiss me." How things would change! Or later: "Men are an awful bother. They interfere with my studies. It's got to stop." [VOICEOVER: It did not stop]
Once in a while, though, there are passages of the magic one expects from Millay. If anything these are most frequent in the early years, when she may be less practiced, but also lacks other outlets for that terribly keen sense of time passing, whether it be expressed in the Sisyphean horror of having to do the same tasks week after week and never having time to appreciate the beauty of the world, "feeling every day more tired and crushed and driven than ever before", or a more poignant mode which hints at the great poems of loss to come: "If only I had known, and had climbed enough trees and made enough mudpies to last me through the awful days when I should want to and couldn't!" Flashes remain afterwards, though, just enough for me not to regret reading this: "They sang the Hallelujah Chorus. I honestly believe, as truly as I believe in fairies, that angels always join in that. They always sing the "Hallelujahs." I'm sure of it." True, to some extent a Netgalley ARC probably wasn't the best format; too hard to flick to the endnotes for clarification, though while the ones on figures of the day are useful, or those confirming quite how many of her classmates Millay romanced, there are also a lot telling us who John Milton or Lewis Carroll are, without even justifying themselves by glossing their specific relevance. Still, all in all it's hard not to think back to Millay's initial warning: "whosoever, by stealth or any other underhand means, opens these pages to read, shall be subject to the rack, the guillotine, the axe, the scaffold, or any other form of torture I may see fit to administer." Well, you went one better with your curse, Vincent, and made it so that the crime was also its own punishment. The introduction suggests that "As long as there are lovers, they will be reading Millay", and I'd like to think that's true, but I don't think they'll be reading this.
My thanks to NetGalley and the publisher Yale University Press for a copy of this collection of diary entries.
The idea of too much information for certain celebrities has never really been addressed, especially in these days of all-consuming social media. Fans long to hear every studio take, every blooper reel, every first draft to understand how a celebrity that speaks so much to the watcher, reader, listener became that darn good. Occasionally there are rumbles, but the draw for people to know, or the drawer that gets filled with cash usually wins out. Journals and diaries of great artists can be a tricky thing. Personal snapshots in text about thoughts, feelings, ideas that someone puts on paper, maybe never to be touched on again, or wanted to to be forgotten are ways to find new and interesting things about our idols. So reading journals can be both enlightening, and deflating as a private world is suddenly exposed.
That said the publishing of Edna St. Vincent Millay's might be intrusive, but they are truly illuminating. Rapture and Melancholy: The Diaries of Edna St. Vincent Millay are edited by Daniel Mark Epstein, her a recent biographer, have a very light editing touch, only correcting some obvious mistakes and offering copious notes to explain sections that might be unclear. Covering the majority of the poet's teenage years and and later years before fame and health became less sure, the journals describe her actions, thoughts and life and what made her the poet she was. There are no major aha events, just a lot of slow moments, that seem unclear at the time, but slowly build as you read, the confidences growing, the determination to be better.
A wonderful collection not only for the casual fan, but for the serious scholar. Yes there is a particularly picking thorough the bones sense, but I don't think Millay would mind too much. Learning how a creative type found the skills and courage to present and live their art is a great thing to read, and considering the writer, you know that it will be a very good read.
Edna St. Vincent Millay was a precocious intellect and talent, a poet, musician, and playwright whose peak of fame stretched from the late 1910s to the early 1930s. Her books of poetry sold immensely well and made her quite wealthy. A rural Maine girl, Millay lived in abject poverty in the early years of her life, but became a critic's darling, finally able to enroll in college. After graduation, she played to packed houses on reading tours for many years, which kept her name in the public eye. Rebellious, brash, and reckless--Millay carried on multiple romances and had both male and female lovers. In time, her devil-may-care attitude caught up with her. Late in life, sadly, she became a drug addict.
Her star faded quickly, and by the time of her death in 1950, she was considered a has-been. A new generation of second-wave feminist scholars and women's studies academics revived her standing in the literary world in the 1960s and 1970s. But even today, she is only truly well-known to a very select audience. That is to say, this book will likely be of greatest interest to English majors and Millay scholars. The curious should begin by reading a biography first. There are at least two excellent ones available that have been in print for a long while.
The diaries are a collection of very scattered anecdotes and minutia. Though these entries, some of which are very unflattering to its author, were never intended for publication, they do possess a kind of rough charm. Millay lived a fascinating life--name dropping notable writers, films of the period, bird species (Millay was a massive bird watcher), and a list of numerous flowers and plants that she and her Dutch magnate husband patiently tended at the couples' upstate New York residence.
By her death, Millay was a shadow of her former self. A car accident in the mid-Thirties caused her significant back pain, which she self-medicated with alcohol and morphine. As she herself put it in one of her early sonnets, she burned the candle at both ends, and did not last the night. But her talent remains.
A collection of poet Edna St. Vincent Millay’s diaries that focus primarily on her adolescence and her later life, showing how greatly her life and personality changed. At the beginning, she was merely a high school student and primary caretaker for her two younger sisters, but after the publication of Renascence, she catapulted to fame, being offered college scholarships.
The diaries skip over her early adulthood, to her marriage to Eugen and their at-first idyllic life at their farm in upstate New York. But as her diaries chronicle, Millay changed later in life, due, in part, to fame and disappointments in love, but mainly due to her increasing use of alcohol, morphine, and other drugs. It’s important to keep in mind that she wrote her diaries, which is obvious, but she certainly realized after she achieved success, that they might someday be read by others. So she’s choosing what she wants people to know, and at times, it’s shockingly revelatory. I’ve read other biographies and a fictionalized biography, which made me dislike Millay, although I still liked her work. However, reading these diaries made me feel more sympathetic for her. #RaptureandMelancholy #NetGalley
It took me a while to get through this one. It was interesting and I enjoyed the writing, but I think I underestimated how difficult I would find reading a diary to be.
As I said, it was certainly interesting. Edna St Vincent Millay is an interesting figure in general and I loved getting a look into life as it was in years past. Some of it actually really surprised me. For example, it never occurred to me that there would be organized basketball games for girls in the 1910s, so I was a bit shocked when she mentioned her sister playing. Perhaps it's a reflection of my ignorance in regards to that point in history, but it was a tidbit that made me pause to consider. I also enjoyed hearing references to music and literature. All these details made it like I had a window looking into the past.
That said, I will confess that not all of this looking back was pleasant. Certain passages had me cringing. Additionally, reading about the day to day can get a bit monotonous at times so I felt the need to divide up my reading.
Still, I feel this book was worth picking up and I am grateful to NetGalley for the arc .
A hit or miss, depending on what you want. If you want to see Edna St. Vincent Millay's growth, triumph, and decline in her career and personal life, then this book offers an excellent snapshot, with informative introductions to each new diary or stage of Millay's life, as well as notes at the end. If, however, you want an in-depth look at Millay's personality, thoughts, and writings, like Virginia Woolf's "A Writer's Diary" or Anne Frank's diary, then you'll be disappointed.
Millay did not consistently keep her diaries throughout the years, so there are major gaps and leaps in the time where we have to rely on outside sources to figure out what she was doing at the time. Most of her diary entries are short and terse, briefly stating what she did or ate and drank or who she saw. Sprinkled in between are rich and descriptive passages that reveal Millay's passionate spirit, love for nature, and writing prowess. If only there was more of the latter, then this book would have been 4 or 5 stars for me. On a separate note, Daniel Mark Epstein did an excellent job compiling and editing Millay's diaries and providing short commentaries at each stage of her life.
Bright, beautiful, and sad. We all know the ending. But this book gives insight into Edna that I hadn’t previously read in Nancy Milford’s fabulous biography Savage Beauty. This is directly from Millay’s pen.
It reminded me of just how famous a woman poet was in the 30s and all the incredible people that came to visit her and that she dined and wined with. Well Gin Rickeys.
It is still astonishing to me that she wrote Renascence at age 20. It was hard to hear some ugliness towards servants and others, but for me, the beauty outweighed the melancholy.
Also, “spending time" with her at Steepletop was kind of glorious. The setting was so lovely in my head and I think I’ll have to look into planting Sweet Peas. I can smell them right off the pages.
This takes it full circle for me after Savage Beauty. I walked into a Barnes and Noble store in 2001 as a poet and picked up a copy of The Selected Poetry of Edna St Vincent Millay (edited and with an introduction by Nancy Milford) and started writing sonnets after that. This book was essential reading for me.
Covering mainly the periods of 1907-1914, when Millay was a teenager and in her early twenties, and 1927 to 1935. Millay has a strong voice even in the first diary entries from when she was sixteen years old. She manages to be both charmingly adolescent and uncannily wise and insightful. “For in this year that had passed, I had laid down for myself two commandments. These are the two. 1. Respect thyself. 2. Be worthy of thine own respect.” I loved reading this diary, which is well edited and organised. Millay is very good company.
A revelatory and moving look into the life of poet Edna St. Vincent Millay, from her start as a small-town Maine girl winning local poetry prizes to her meteoric rise to international fame. The journals themselves are full of vibrancy, joy, voice, sex, booze and life, even as her diminishing vigor and descent into morphine addiction bring them to an end. I learned so very much about Millay from the robust and fascinating scholarship of writers in this stunning collection of her notes and letters. What a great gift this is to readers and scholars.
Phew...that was pretty rough. Maybe I haven't read enough diaries of famous / tormented people, or maybe this one was particularly tough. I was hoping for more insights into her poetry and inspiration, and instead you watch her descend into addiction, hatefulness, and despair. She disdains servants and non-WASPs, definitely cringey language. I particularly enjoyed the first third of the book, where a young Millay in Maine is discovered and launched into college and fame.
I truly enjoyed reading this book. To be able to access her personal thoughts through life is priceless. The reader is able to read her journals of her time as a school girl through a married woman. I wish Millay had written more about how she felt as her poetry gained so much success. The author did a good job of presenting material that he had and I like the way he introduced each chapter of her life.
It’s a diary alright: often a paragraph here and there, sometimes something longer. Sometimes deep insight, sometimes a weather report. The annotations from the editor are useful, but unless you’re a Millay diehard (and I mean, I really like her), read Savage Beauty, the biography by Nancy Milford instead. It’s exquisite!
Edna St Vincent Millay was probably wiser at 16 than I will ever be in my entire life.
Also it was very sad to read the pain she had to suffer through later on. I didn't expect in the last section at all, where it just becomes page after page of hourly logs of her morphine and drug injections. It really drove home just how bad things were at the end.
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
[giving this 5✩s because it’s basically someone’s diary but i’d love to see more of her thoughts and writing. it’s more like short everyday entries to different stages of Millay’s life. it was still a good read for me but you might want to keep that in mind if you’re debating reading this book.]
The book is a collection of diary entries written throughout her life. It was interesting to follow ESVM’s arc to fame and sad to see the downslide that was her last decade.
Came to be rather monotonous (diaries taken quite literally, perhaps should have known), but the early Camden and Vassar sections especially delightful. And special to read here, of course.