A Schizophrenic Reads William Blake

The term "dementia praecox" was first used in 1887 by Emile Kraepelin. It isolated a type of "madness" that exhibited hallucinations and delusions and later became known as schizophrenia. Since the English poet and visual artist William Blake lived from 1757-1827, he could not have been so diagnosed. However, according to his biographers Peter Ackroyd and Leo Damrosch, Blake exhibited symptoms consistent with what we now call schizophrenia. He had what he called visions, heard voices, and had command hallucinations. Some others thought him "mad."

In his lifetime, Blake received almost no recognition. His reputation began to be built decades after his death, and he is now considered one of the greatest of the English poets. His reputation largely rests on his "illuminated books"—engraved books that combine Blake's stunning and dramatic visual art with his poetry. You can see pictures of his longest illuminated book, Jerusalem, at this link. Other examples of his work are also available at that site, The William Blake Archive.

While Blake's illuminated books are now considered canonical work, many of them can be tough sledding for the reader. They are filled with a tremendous cast of characters with names such as Rintrah and Los and places such as Golgonooza. It is difficult to follow the complicated plots and, what's more, it's equally difficult sometimes to make out Blake's engraved writing. That said, enough noted literary scholars have worked through the difficulties and concluded that Blake is a major writer. One of the first among them was Northrop Frye, who published Fearful Symmetry in 1947.

I must confess that I did not have the stamina and energy to fully understand Blake's complex mythology, although I read most of the illuminated books twice. Indeed, there is a whole thick book entitled A Blake Dictionary by S. Foster Damon that has long entries on all of his characters, settings, and allusions. In my reading of Blake I was struck by the force and drama of his pictures and the strife described in his verse. These books are intense and full of conflict.

What interests me the most about Blake was that he transformed what were probably psychotic symptoms into classic art and poetry. When reading him, I feel very close to him. I, too, have had the sort of stunning hallucinations and delusions he describes. I, too, have created gnarled and complex mythologies out of my delusions. For me, they centered around a supposedly centuries-old war between fascists and antifascists in which I was a spy on the antifascist side. For Blake, they apparently centered around his radical reworking of Christian beliefs along with their political implications. 

The difference between us is that Blake transformed what was probably psychosis into great art. While I am a writer, the chances of my writing ever reaching the acclaim that Blake's has are slim to nothing. When reading Blake, I feel immense pride for him. Turning psychosis into great art takes tremendous focus and discipline. He did it all without meds.

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I guess that's it for today. I had intentions of writing a long, searching post on Blake and my reading of him, but I'm just not up to it. Perhaps I should have written nothing this week or posted a short essay I wrote months ago. But I ultimately decided to record a little bit about my reading of Blake. It may not be particularly insightful, but it does note my feelings about him. Hopefully, I will have more to contribute next week.