Most poets do not make a living from their writing. This was
especially so for female poets in the 1920s. Undoubtedly, the road was even
harder for one from an impoverished family in Maine. But Edna St Vincent Millay
was recognized by the literary world for a salient talent by the time she was
nineteen. She entered a national contest for poets and, although she did not
win, she caught the attention of a New York socialite named Caroline Dow. A
Vassar College alum, Dow convinced her alma mater to accept this gifted young
woman and prodded her New York alumnae circle to pay the tuition.
Millay’s poetry is not flowery or sentimental. It more reflects
the cynicism in her life regarding relationships:
I shall forget you presently, my dear,
So make the most of this, your little day,
Your little month, your little half a year,
Ere I forget, or die, or move away,
And we are done forever; by and by
I shall forget you, as I said, but now,
If you entreat me with your loveliest lie
I will protest you with my favorite vow.
(Milford, p. 175)
Millay knew whereof she spoke. She had so many simultaneous
lovers, both men and women, that it is surprising she was able to keep her
personal life from the public spotlight. But even when her poetry alluded to
what would have been scandalous indiscretions for that era, her fans seem far
more interested in her ability, her presence and the passion with which she
writes.
As with any personality, one must contend with some
unlikeable traits. Millay is vain, self-absorbed and emotionally impervious to
the harm that her recklessness causes others. This is particularly so late in
life before she learns to control her addiction to opiates and alcohol. But
even in college, her letters home are crassly insensitive: She lists all the
clothes that Ms Dow is buying for her just when her impoverished mother and
sisters are being evicted from their rental property (Milford, p. 120). Also,
the narrative records complaints of friends and acquaintances used by Millay
for personal or professional gain, then ignored after they have outlived their
usefulness. But there are appealing qualities to balance these negative traits.
Millay had a sparkle that made people want to know her whether she was at
Vassar, in Greenwich Village bohemia, or in the Midwest on reading tours. One
roots for her to succeed and lift her family out of poverty. Her verse, honest,
self-revealing, well-written, allows a reader access to appreciate her. This
biography presents so much of her poetry chronologically, in context with
events of her life, that it exposes her struggles, her triumphs and her
development as a poet.
Nancy Milford’s book is an absorbing, pleasurable meditation
on personality and inner life by an author who has researched her subject in a
deep, personal way. It was helpful that she had unique access to Edna’s private
papers and letters which had been jealously guarded by Millay’s sister, Norma.
This younger sibling had hoped to write her own biography of Edna, but never
got around to it. Milford formed a friendship with Norma and cajoled both the
papers and much intimate family information out of her. Because of its
sensitivity, its revelation of the internal and its many intersecting
personalities, Savage Beauty reads like a Jane Austen novel come to
life. Milford’s offering is a master writing course for biographers. This is
how it is done.
Milford, Nancy. Savage Beauty. The Life of Edna St
Vincent Millay. New York: Random House, Inc., 2002.
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