Since I’m not sure what I’m doing at this point, I decided to just blog about one of the questions for this week, “What relationship does Whitman construct with the reader?”
Simple question, complex answer. There are so many facets to the connection Whitman tries to establish with the reader. At times he is impersonal and worldly, and at other times he is exclusive and intimate. The aim of the poem seems to switch from addressing the world and everyone it in, to simply addressing the reader, and telling them what he thinks. There were times when I was reading that I felt as if Whitman were convincing me that what he was saying was unique, wonderful and solely for me. Whitman tells me,
“This hour I tell things in confidence,
I might not tell everybody but I will tell you.”
He puts me in the position of confidant, as secret keeper. I alone am hearing his deepest thoughts, things he has been longing to tell someone. In the biography we read, it mentions how Whitman wanted to reach through the pages and physically touch the reader. I found that interesting when thinking about how often Whitman mentions touching another person, whether it’s clasping their hand or putting his arm around their waist, or an allusion to sex.
“Hands I have taken, face I have kissed, mortal I have ever touched, it shall be you.”
The sensuality he wants to establish between himself and the reader, as well as the way he convinces the reader that what they are reading is private and for them makes me think of a love letter. While the poem seems to be a love letter to Whitman himself, as well as nature and life, I read it as a love letter to the reader as well.
While Whitman wants the reader to believe he is telling them vast and important secrets, he also seems to be imploring the reader to believe him and think as he does. It’s a love letter to someone that he’s not sure returns his love at all, so he needs to convince us that his love is worthwhile, and it’s going to last, that he really knows what he is talking about.
“I know perfectly well my own egotism,
And I know my omniverous words, and cannot say any less,
And would fetch you whoever you are flush with myself.”
He wants to hold me captive in his thoughts, to see things the way he sees them. He is using his charm full force, but as a reader, do I fall for it? It’s easy to be blinded by someone’s outpouring of passion for you, but do I really believe all the things Whitman tells me? We’ll see.
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