As I promised I will continue my serie of blog posts around this subject. My first aborded author is "Edgar Allen Poe".

Edgar Allan Poe (January 19, 1809 – October 7, 1849) was an American poet, short-story writer, editor, and literary critic, and is considered part of the American Romantic Movement. Best known for his tales of mystery and the macabre, Poe was one of the earliest American practitioners of the short story and invented the detective-fiction genre. On October 7, 1849, at age 40, Poe died in Baltimore; the cause of his death is unknown and has been attributed to alcohol, brain congestion, cholera, drugs, heart disease, rabies, suicide, tuberculosis, and other agents.

It's strange how a great author like he was, touched the bottle frequently. For many years and many different reasons both before and after his death Edgar Allan Poe has been characterized as an alcoholic. This fact is originated form stories which tells us even that Edgar Allen Poe was a maniacal drinker who routinely drank himself into oblivion. By the other side, some related stories are not so hard on him but they also specify that he was an alcoholic. Beside all these "hardcore" stories are some better ones too. Others said that he drank only rarely, and when he did, kept excellent control over himself and was a perfect gentleman.

In fact, Edgar Allen Poe touched the bottle, or better to say he felt an attraction to liquor in the moment when he was just a small adopted child of Mr. John Allan. On a way we could understand him cause he had some really upsetting events during his life. Shortly, Poe has many depressing reasons for drinking. He attempted to quit drinking many times, but one event after another set him off again.

Poe also had many enemies who watched him in the hope that he will make a mistake and after that, they to use this mistakes to ruine Poe. I take advantage and I say that this the portrayal of Poe as an insane, evil, and manically drunk man, like those in his stories, increased public interest in his work come from him enemies.

Poe was an impulsive binge drinker who, once he started drinking, could not stop until he was out of money or passed out. Many people said that one drink was too much for Poe. A friend of Poe told that "a single glass of wine, to most men a moderate stimulus, turned him into a madman"(Meyers 87). Maria Clemm, who loved Poe deeply and always defended him, said that "when he had indulged in a glass or two...he was not responsible for either his words or actions" (Wagenknecht 30).

Poe was warned about his genetic disposition towards alcoholism by his cousin William Poe, who "viewed alcohol as the curse of the Poes" (Wagenknecht 31). Poe was not agree with his cousins advice to be aware of drinking and he started drinking heavy as a young man already.
Many people tryed to help Poe, but none were ultimately successful.

Poe's works reflect what he thought about the evil of drink. Liquor played a major role in "The Black Cat," "The Cask of Amontillado," "The Narrative of Arthur Gordon Pym," and "The Man of the Crowd." The narrator of "The Black Cat" is a chronic alcoholic who exclaims "for what disease is like Alcohol" (Poe 224); and in a drunken stupor gouges out his cat's eye because he thought it was avoiding him. Fortunato of "The Cask of Amontillado" is lured by the drug to his death.

As a major cause for Poe's inability to keep a job as an editor of magazines, alcohol caused the greatest ill effect of all on his life. Poe had no money. His dream to call a magazine his own was washed away. Alcohol ruined his life. He had no good jobs. He had no stable world. He had nothing to anchor him to reality, so he induced fantasies and drown fears with a bottle.

Poe's reasons for drinking was as numerous as his terrible binges. In fact, he drank to escape the drudgery and disappointments of his life.

"I have absolutely no pleasure in the stimulants in which I sometimes so madly indulge. It has not been in the pursuit of pleasure that I have periled life and reputation and reason. It has been the desperate attempt to escape from torturing memories, from a sense of insupportable loneliness, and a dread of some strange impending doom." (Poe as quoted in Meyers 89).