Readers often speak of poetry and novels as separate, defined genres of literature, but the truth is that they feed off of each other. The greatest novelists are inspired by poetry; they see their lines and images as poetic forms unto themselves. Likewise, the best poets draw extensively from the themes, stories, and characters that novelists create. Scholars have long documented this two-way street of literary influence. However, the direct role that poetry plays in novels is often overlooked.
Poems are frequently used by novelists like Hemmingway and Steinbeck to prepare the reader for the tone and themes to be explored. Such poetic prologues are essentially a means by which authors can break the constraints of a novel and encapsulate the emotional aura of a long work into a few lines. When written by the author themselves, such poems are often an appetizer of the novelist’s viewpoint, voice, and wit. When taken from foundational works like the Bible, such poetic prologues are hints of plot points and characters yet to come. Often the title of the larger work is taken from a line of the poem. Both types of poetic prologues are by necessity concise yet broad in scope, clear yet somewhat mystical.
Classical authors are in many ways the true masters of the poetic prologue. For the ultimate example of poetic wit and fortitude, one must look to the book considered by some to be one of the first true novels. Apuleius’ Metamorphoses, commonly dubbed The Golden Ass, is a witty narrative about a man turned into an ass who wanders the world trying to turn back into a man. In the most well-known of his many adventures, he is kidnapped by a tribe of bandits who have also kidnapped a young bride on her wedding night. The young bride is distraught at her fate and fearful of sexual violence. The mother/caretaker of the bandits strangely tries to comfort her by telling her the story of Cupid and Psyche as an odd way of saying “you don’t have it so bad.” While the section on Cupid and Psyche is often the most studied and quoted, the short poetic prologue to the novel is perhaps the most witty. The novel begins with these words:
"Now! I’d like to string together various tales in the Milesian style, and charm your kindly ear with seductive murmurs, so long as you’re ready to be amazed at human forms and fortunes changed radically and then restored in turn in mutual exchange, and don’t object to reading Egyptian papyri, inscribed by a sly reed from the Nile.
I’ll begin. Who am I? I’ll tell you briefly. Hymettus near Athens; the Isthmus of Corinth; and Spartan Mount Taenarus, happy soil more happily buried forever in other books, that’s my lineage. There as a lad I served in my first campaigns with the Greek tongue. Later, in Rome, freshly come to Latin studies I assumed and cultivated the native language, without a teacher, and with a heap of pains. So there! I beg your indulgence in advance if as a crude performer in the exotic speech of the Forum I offend. And in truth the very fact of a change of voice will answer like a circus rider’s skill when needed. We’re about to embark on a Greek tale. Reader, attend: and find delight! (taken from Cupid & Psyche: an Intermediate Reader edited by A.R. Pellowski)."
Not only does Apuleius provide the reader with a taste of his bitter wit and voice, but he outlines the format of his novel and introduces his own authorial character. The clever self-contradiction in the last few lines, reminiscent of Frost’s “New Hampshire,” is a device which he employs constantly. Apuleis explains that his work will “string together various tales in the Milesian style” of the Greek philosophers of Miletus, “charming [our] kindly [ears]” with poetry and ingenious stories. This prologue is in many ways prosaic and does not conform to the traditional conventions of Latin poetry, but I would argue that it is also deeply poetic.
Apuleius manages to convey complex emotion, excite expectation, and hint at mystery and mysticism all within the few sentences of a prologue. No one inexperienced in writing poetry could invent such an ingenious and profound prologue. Apuleius’ prologue is an enhancement of the novel itself. Like Wolfe’s, it adds an authorial voice and a poetic mantra to the wit, sarcasm, and magic of his novel.
Perhaps itself one of the most poetic American novels, Thomas Wolfe’s Look Homeward, Angel has earned its fair share of notoriety for its esoteric imagery, lengthy sentences, and fervently detailed narratives. However, it has immense value not only as a seminal novel of the early twentieth century, but as one of the finest examples of poetic prologue. As an introduction to the long saga of Eugene Gant of Altamont (Asheville), Wolfe records one of the most iconic verses in American literature let alone fiction:
. . . a stone, a leaf, an unfound door; a stone, a leaf, a door. And of all the forgotten faces.
Naked and alone we came into exile. In her dark womb we did not know our mother's face; from the prison of her flesh have we come into the unspeakable and incommunicable prison of this earth.
Which of us has known his brother? Which of us has looked into his father's heart? Which of us has not remained forever prison-pent? Which of us is not forever a stranger and alone?
O waste of lost, in the hot mazes, lost, among bright stars on this weary, unbright cinder, lost! Remembering speechlessly we seek the great forgotten language, the lost lane-end into heaven, a stone, a leaf, an unfound door. Where? When?
O lost, and by the wind grieved, ghost, come back again.
Wolfe’s poetic prologue is not nearly as witty or sarcastic as Apuleius’, but neither is his novel. Although the content itself is divergent from the example of Apuleius, in structure it is in fact of the same mould. Wolfe’s prologue is filled with mystical imagery and symbolism—an early prognosis of the restlessness of his characters. A reader is immediately aware of the emotional density and poetic quality of the work he or she is about to read.
The irony is that Wolfe’s novel, notorious for its length and obtuseness, is introduced by one of the most beautiful and condensed poems found within the confines of a novel. It is Wolfe’s voice and the poetic aura of the story that makes this novel special. His prologue imbues significance into the relatively mundane happenings and somewhat tedious imagery of the novel. The poetry plays right into the hands of the novel, but the novel brings a certain heft to the poem. By itself, the poem lacks the emotional catharsis and heaviness that the story gives the simple words of Wolfe’s prologue.
How do the two prologues compare stylistically? Apuleius’ wit is clearly in contrast with Wolfe’s sombre tone. I would argue, however, that Wolfe is in many regards harkening back to the classical poetic prologue as exemplified by Apuleius’ much more lyrical work. Like Apuleius, Wolfe begins his work in dialogue with the reader, focusing on mood, tone, and voice far more than character development or plot summary. In many ways, Wolfe’s prologue is one long allusion to the classical epics of old as Wolfe begins what is truly one of the great American epics.
Apuleius’ genius is his ability to condense story, authorial voice, and metacognitive wit into a few lines of prose or poetry (depending on how one views it). Wolfe’s genius is his skill at evoking complex emotions, countless apostrophes, and a deep, sombre note into a few lines of poetic prologue. Neither novel is overpowered by poetry, but nor does poetry simply become an afterthought. Poetry and prose are inherently collaborative and cooperative. Each one plays off the other. Like the back-and-forth between author and reader, poetry and prose are constantly in dialogue with each other.