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In yesterday's class we talked about Emily Dickinson and her strange but beautiful poems. As a "virgin recluse," she selected her society prudently, and avoided strangers, especially during the later years of her life. Only seven poems were published in her lifetime, all edited by other hands. More than a thousand poems were hidden away in her bedroom chest, to be discovered after her death.
Unlike another great American woman poet Sylvia Plath whose persona and poems are conventionally known to be corporeal and inflamed, Emily Dickinson is more ethereal and gossamer. However,recent critics, inflected by feminism, have pointed out that underneath the elfish, deceptively ingenue-like surface of this "virgin recluse," a volcano keeps seething, which could, had it chosen, have submerged an entire city, not only a city, but the whole universe. Dikinson's biographer and editor Thomas Johnson has said that she often felt herslef possessed by a demonic force. And many of her poems can surely be read as poems of possession. Adrienne Rich in her famous essay "Vesuvius at Home:The Power of Emily Dickinson" has emphasized Dikinson's dilemma as a woman poet in the nineteenth century, her schizo status as being torn between society's expectation of a proper femininity and her unwomanly, aggressive, demonic, and volcanic creativity. Can you discern her dilemma in any of her poems we read? Or how does her account of her creativity "Vesuvian" and unfeminine from your point of view?