Posted by: Erin Longbottom | 27th Sep, 2009

Erin for 9/29

In response to the prompt and quote for this week, what did Whitman consider the “real” war to be? My interpretation, which could be wrong, is that Whitman saw the real war as the devastation that was felt by the families of soldiers and civilians, and the stories of the soldiers themselves. The history that is in the books is impersonal. I think Whitman tried to personalize the war and bring it down to less grandiose level by relating the stories of the soldiers he met. Unfortunately he only captured most at the ends of their lives, after they were physically and mentally destroyed by the war.

I think some of the problems with Whitman’s description of his war experiences are the same problems that we run into with his poetry. He tries to represent everything and everyone, and therefore somewhat loses something when he begins to generalize and list. I saw this in the way he kept his diary like a catalogue, a description we have used for his poetry, a catalogue of the various soldiers he met, their injuries, what he gave them, whether or not they died.  On the one hand we are seeing the mass amount of destruction caused by this war- it seems like every soldier Whitman described had something amputated- but on the other hand we’re still not seeing any reflection on how this is going to affect the soldier’s life from then on, or his family.

I thought Whitman’s most interesting observations were not necessarily with the soldiers, but when he observed life outside of the hospitals. I loved the passage where he described the inauguration ball taking place in the patent office, where months before he had seen the cots of the soldiers.

So to answer the question for this week, I’m not really sure whether or not Whitman succeeded in getting the “real” war into his books. At his time, I feel like it’s very likely that all of the horrible injuries and mass casualties were not necessarily widely reported, so maybe for Whitman’s time he really was giving a more real account of the civil war than anyone else was at the time. The passage about the two brothers who were fighting on opposite sides and were injured in the same battle, the wounds from which both subsequently dies, strikes me that way. Perhaps no one in Whitman’s time would have made a statement like that. I feel like now though, especially the way the civil war is gone over and over again in history classes throughout grade school, most people are very aware that family members often fought against each other, that the battles were extremely bloody, and the politics involved in the fighting. I wonder if Whitman would say that the history books now are giving a more true account of things.

Ok this is a side note but, every time Whitman mentioned the “naked” bodies of the soldiers and then that part where he said he was sitting by the side of the soldier while he was sleeping, I just got this really weird image of him being a creeper and watching people while they slept…not to mention the part where he alludes to stalking Lincoln…

Responses

Someone else’s post (it kills me that I can’t rememember) I think it was Virginia’s or Sam’s–says something along the lines that the war truly taught Whitman his size, and I think that’s really the case here. He was writing what he knew, what was going on in front of him, and that was what happened at the bedside. I wonder if the destruction of the handsome bodies that Whitman so loved was too much of a distraction for him to consider the women at home. I think, too, that this is one of the times in his life that Whitman first begins to understand womanly feelings; he’s administering to man and subservient in a way that women usually were then. Perhaps then he hadn’t quite gotten the grasp of it to write it well enough yet.

Haha your last thought cracks me up. But as to your other ideas and thoughts concerning this weekends prompt, I agree with your statement: “Whitman tried to personalize the war and bring it down to less grandiose level by relating the stories of the soldiers he met.” Whitman even took the time to write down there names in his journals and when he describes giving out the gifts, it is obvious that Whitman took a personal interest in each and every soldier that he interacted with. I can picture Whitman trying his best to get to know the soldier’s in their last days and be a friend to them so the soldiers could have a comforting and familiar face by their bedside as they passed on. After reading these diary entries by Whitman, Whitman humanized himself too and I respect and admire Whitman not only for his written talent, but, also for his acts of charity.

I think that Whitman was overwhelmed with the horror he was faced with. Every time a soldier came in wounded Whitman was reminded of the destruction being caused in his country. This might have made it difficult for him to step back and think about how an amputated leg would affect the soldier at home. He was trying to list expansively because he wanted the reader to understand how awful it was, maybe he was assuming we’d extrapolate the individual horror, or maybe he just didn’t have time to write in specifics.

I do think you make a good point though, he does seem to talk about the war in large strokes while trying to bring it to a personal level.

Also, he totally was a creeper. I think I can forgive him that though.

“A creeper” may be one of our most useful phrases this week.

When I read these pieces from Memoranda, somehow the larger catalogues and lists get lost to me. I experience the text through the snapshots of its most intimate portraits: the man shot through the bladder, the boy who awakens and looks in WW’s eyes… I think that’s my own filter as much as the power of those pieces.

“I think some of the problems with Whitman’s description of his war experiences are the same problems that we run into with his poetry. He tries to represent everything and everyone, and therefore somewhat loses something when he begins to generalize and list.”

This is something I touched on in my post, how Whitman’s zealousness can get the best of him. Like an excited puppy, Whitman is always charming but sometimes annoying. I think we have all had those moments while reading where we have said to ourselves (or aloud), “OKAY! I FREAKING GET IT ALREADY!”

However, we must give the man “props,” as the kids say these days, for documenting history with passion and detail. I find myself wondering if this is a lost art, what will future generations look to for primary accounts of history– blog posts? Emails? Texts? Not nearly as romantic.

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