...Wearing Clothes That Were Not His Own

Halloween Countdown Day 7


It simply wouldn't be Halloween without a passing mention of Edgar Allan Poe, who died (I almost said "passed") on this day in 1849. Strangely enough (or suitably enough, your choice), in yet another example of life imitating art the exact cause of his death remains a mystery. Alcoholism? Syphilis? Rabies? Brain tumor?* Cooping?

We'll probably never know and maybe that's for the best--a little mystery (above and beyond the Poe Toaster) is a good thing.

Postscript: Jeebus Murphy, am I the only online entity acknowledging Poe's death today? I've searched all the usual suspects and no one's sayin' nuthin'. Guess I'm going to have to light a candle.


And if you think all this is a descent into the morbid, well, go read Horton Hears A Heart.

Then go read The Poe Shadow.

Happy Birthday, E. A. Poe!

Edgar Allan Poe, January 19, 1809-October 7, 1849

After the somewhat pointless controversy over the summer I was pleasantly surprised to see the Poe Toaster managed to complete his annual tribute to ol' Edgar this year. I'd have been deeply saddened if the tradition had ended because some dillwad couldn't stand to leave a perfectly good mystery alone.

MetaFilter notes from 2003

For a fictionalized Poe-tesquerie, check out In A Strange City by Baltimore native Laura Lippman and pass on The Poe Shadow unless you're a true die-hard.