(en) On making pain pretty

Literature has always loved poets who wrote from the heart. Most often, it was the most miserable who did so. So why do we love tortured poets? Why does their suffering seem so beautiful to us?

If you follow literary-related social media, you've probably noticed that for several years now, there's been a renaissance of fascination and fixation with authors with distinctive, often depressing, life stories. We fell in love with those who, under the guise of narrators, described their own dilemmas and breakdowns – that is, simply people.

As someone who loves Tumblr and post-Tumblr poetry (yes, I claim the rights to this term and slap a big copyright mark on it), I've noticed that authors on this platform are particularly fond of a few figures:

• Emily Dickinson – 6.5k followers of the hashtag on Tumblr

• Fyodor Dostoyevsky – 7.7k

• Albert Camus – 8.9k

• Franz Kafka – 17k

• Sylvia Plath – 28k

• Virginia Woolf – record holder: 479k

Each hashtag collects not only quotes but also texts inspired by the authors and entire aesthetics surrounding them. It's this last aspect that I observe with the greatest fascination. I admit, I used to use such hashtags myself – but under my own texts, which Plath or Woolf left a huge mark on.

There are many reasons to use the names of outstanding (and often tragic) authors. However, it is becoming increasingly clear that enclosing them in hashtags has become a common phenomenon.

This fascination is hardly surprising. The artistry, style, and uniqueness of each one are captivating. But equally important is the ability to identify with them on a spiritual level. The images of these writers trigger a game of associations: any worm? – Kafka. Figs? – Plath. Ophelia's painting? – Woolf. Coffee? – Camus. (You know that Camus never said his famous line: "Should I kill myself or have a cup of coffee?").

But why are we so eager to aestheticize their lives? Why does Kafkacore exist, why Plath is lumped in with the hashtags #KateMoss or #LanaDelRey? We live in a world where everything has to fit into a trend and fit into social media.

Seeking beauty is an incredibly important value that makes life easier, but there are phenomena whose "beauty" lies in their ugliness. In his text on beauty, Wallis distinguishes three distinct terms: aesthetic, beautiful, and ugly. However, what isn't beautiful doesn't automatically mean it's ugly. Aesthetics is a far cry from how it's perceived in the world of social media. Aesthetics relies on harmony, balance, and proportion, and also on emotions and the author's intention. Aesthetics isn't even a cousin of beauty. Therefore, what is ugly can be aesthetic. A good example is the human body, illness, or old age depicted in art – they aren't canons of beauty, but due to their emotional charge, they constitute aesthetic ugliness (aesthetic in Wallis's sense, of course).

It is in this sense that all these authors – Plath, Woolf, Dostoyevsky, Kafka, Camus, Dickinson – are aesthetic. They are more than trends and inspirations for styles like dark academia. Their lives are more than just mental illness.

And believe me, you don't have to be sick or addicted to write well. My best writing (at least according to my professors) was written in an ordinary home, under the care of a therapist, with my boyfriend and friends by my side.

Natalia