The Raven by Edgar Allen Poe - Commentary

HOPE F MCGEE

Ravens. Smart enough to remember my house, and my car, and which window belongs to my bedroom. Loud enough to yell at me from the post outside my home, and for me to hear it and awaken. Tenacious enough to not stop until I go outside and say hello. Brave enough to do this in public parking lots. Large enough to terrify the strangers that are suddenly at the wrong place at the wrong time; completely unaware that my friend is sitting above them (probably unaware that some people are friends with ravens).

Becoming friends with ravens is simple. I pick up other people’s litter and trash everywhere I go. And I go skateboarding early in the morning, by myself, because I’m bad at it and I don’t want to dodge middle schoolers that are better at skateboarding than me. And due to the fact I suck at skateboarding I fall, the crows and ravens laugh, I get back up, we repeat the process. That and ravens, amongst other corvids (and frankly more birds than you’d think), are fantastic mimics. You can become friends with mimic contests. This works frequently with birds. It’s not just mimicking the sound you hear but the pure sound being made. This practice comes in handy both for singing and learning ancient languages if you’re at all interested in my Athabascan studies.

I have been starting to learn to speak Lower Tanana, along with cultural practices. One of the first things we learned was the creation story of the Raven. Or better, the story of how the Raven created the world. The Raven was entirely acting out of selfish nature and moved humanity along on accident. Find that its self serving nature accidentally brought man great gifts. Not recommended to worship or behave like the Raven. But to be aware of the lessons and intentions behind the stories. 

I was falling down the rabbit hole and watching various Alice in Wonderland adaptations when I heard it: “How is a Raven like a writing desk?”. This would not have bothered me nearly as much had it not been for the dyed sunflowers in a vase leaking red dye into the clear bottle making “painting the roses red” stick even clearer in my mind. Or maybe for the Alice in Wonderland themed rose tattoo on my ribs. Perhaps my history with ravens and my newfound studies. No, I think it was because I was building a writing desk. And I looked it up and found myself unsatisfied with the answer provided by Lewis Carrol. I could think of 100 ways in which a raven was like a writing desk. But one stuck with me. “How is a Raven like a writing desk?” They are never quite what they seem.

 I wasn’t building a “writing desk” I was building a “desk”, but upon further thought I tend to write… and my desk is one of the places I intend on doing so. No longer was my desk “a desk”, now it is a “writing desk”, nothing about the desk changed besides my perspective. Right now, my “writing desk” is more a “shelf” or a “table” with how many art pieces it is holding, waiting to be properly displayed. Stacked too high to be functional for writing. I am writing while sitting on the couch in the living room. Maybe a Raven is something like that. Maybe as we get to know the Raven it changes and transforms; not because the Raven is changing but because our perception is.

Take this concept to “The Raven” by Edgar Allen Poe, and the old meaning flies out the window on the wings of that raven. Nevermore. Never more. Never do that again. Never put Athena above the door. Not even in a study or a library or a craft room or a war room. No of course you cannot have Lenora back! For you have angered the Gods. The Raven, according to Greek mythology is said to be a messenger of Apollo. Apollo Agyieus the Greek god of streets, public places, and entrances to the home. Represented by a pointed obelisk outside the home. Maybe Apollo would have been less offended by the presence of Hermes (the god of boundaries, travel, and transitions) or Hekate (the goddess of magic, crossroads, and the night) or even Medusa (to ward off the evil eye). All four of these would have been more appropriate to hang above the doorway than Athena: the goddess of wisdom, strategic warfare, and crafts. It would be significantly more appropriate to place her bust on a bookshelf or in a craft corner. It would be like placing a statue of Zeus in your fishtank and wondering why you got bit by a dolphin at Aquaventure while on vacation in Dubai.