I don’t want to make you wait longer than you have to, so I’ll get straight to this review of a classic, The Raven by Edgar Allan Poe.
So, we’ve got this guy—he’s grieving. His rare and radiant Lenore is gone, and he’s a scholar, so what does he do? No Netflix, no social media—it’s the 19th century, after all—so he cracks open some books to escape his thoughts. As you might imagine, the poor guy gets drowsy because let’s be real, there’s only so much reading you can do before you’re nodding off.
Just when he’s about to pass out completely, he hears a tap. Naturally, he thinks someone’s at the door. Who’s showing up at this hour, in the middle of the night, in what is clearly a gothic castle? He checks it out—nothing there. Creepy, but alright. He’s not losing it yet. Then, he hears the tapping again, this time at the window. What does he find when he opens it? Not a night breeze, not a bat, but a full-blown raven, swooping into his room and perching on a statue of Athena.
Now, because he’s lonely and desperate for company, our guy does the next logical thing: he talks to the bird. Look, ravens aren’t exactly known for chit-chatting, but here’s the twist—this one does. The bird drops a one-liner: Nevermore.
Understandably shocked, but intrigued (because what else does he have going on?), our grieving scholar starts interrogating this chatty raven. He’s lonely, he’s lost, and he starts asking the big questions: Will he ever see his lost love again? Is there hope beyond the grave? And what does the raven say? Yeah, you guessed it—Nevermore.
What’s wild is that this isn’t just some quirky moment of a guy talking to a bird. This man is spiraling. He’s been cut off from his social circle, driven mad by grief. In his desperation, he’s looking for meaning, for answers, even from a bird. That single word, Nevermore, pushes him deeper into his despair, symbolizing the idea that there’s nothing left for him—not in this life, not in the next.
There’s heavy symbolism at work here. The raven, often seen as a messenger of doom, perches on Athena—the goddess of wisdom—creating this eerie contrast. Light versus dark. Hope versus hopelessness. Athena’s statue is brightly lit by candles and the fireplace, but the raven’s dark, brooding presence overshadows everything. This bird isn’t just dropping one-word answers; it’s the embodiment of the narrator’s descent into madness.
