I went in a little skeptical to the first night, what if it turned out that it’s impossible to talk about Emily Dickinson’s poems without dwelling endlessly on the dashes and upper case letters etc? The “careful readings” that had driven me screaming from the Coursera poetry course: What does ‘Whose’ mean? Woods? These are? Who is the ‘I’? AaaaaaAAAAAAaaaaaaaa!
Yes, we did mention Emily’s styling a bit and mentioned what other people tried to do with it. I will say that having some facsimiles of her letters was quite illuminating – guess what – that’s how she wrote. Period.
Of course since we started out with a group of people familiar with the world of New England, there was no wild kibbitzing about cedars of the Holy Land, LOL.
None but the Nut – October fit –
Because, through dropping it,
The Seasons flit – I’m taught –
Without the Snow’s Tableau
Winter, were lie – to me –
Because I see – – New Englandly –
The Queen, discerns like me –
Provincially –
From – The Robin’s my Criterion for Tune – Emily Dickinson
