What do you think of
when you hear the name Wilfred Owen? What crosses your mind?
School? English lessons? World War One?
As a general rule, I think it would be fair to
say that the majority of people first come across Owen's poetry in
English lessons in secondary school. All too often, students
are subjected to a dry discussion and analysis of one of his poems,
along with a dull PowerPoint presentation about the First World War
and are expected to regurgitate the information to form an
appropriate answer to an examination question or piece of coursework.
I am sure too many of you can relate to this.
The sad result of this is that all too many
students end up seeming to feel disenchanted with Owen's work,
complaining on Facebook and Twitter about their studies and longing
for their exams to be over, so that they can forget about Wilfred
Owen and his wordy poetry for the rest of their lives. This is a
real shame and I hope that, having read this, you will begin to love
Owen, and his poetry, as much as I do.
Like most people, I was introduced to Wilfred
Owen's work when I was sixteen and preparing for my English
Literature GCSE. Like many young people, I was more interested
in bands and boys than I was in the plight of soldiers who had lived
long before I was born. This is what makes it all the more
amazing that Wilfred Owen managed to capture my attention in the way
that he did.
As you probably do, I vividly remember the day
when, entrenched in my English classroom, I first heard the shocking
opening lines of 'Dulce et Decorum Est'. I remember my 16 year
old self being shocked and sickened by the horrifying scenes, which
were portrayed in that poem. The gruesome realism of the poetry
inspired incredible pathos in me and I felt utterly inspired.
Much more than that though, I also remember being utterly humbled and
impressed at the sheer skill and pure wordsmithing GENIUS, which had
been drawn upon to sculpt that work of art (For Owen's poetry is pure
art). This may seem pretentious but it is also the truth. At
that moment, 'Dulce et Decorum Est' became my favourite poem of all
time and I have always remembered the profound effect it had on me.
Recently, while taking an AS in English
Literature (15 years after the lesson I referred to earlier,) I came
to study Owen's work in more detail. I was immensely impressed by
everything about his poetry.
Moving on, I will now say a little bit about
Owen's life. Wilfred Edward Salter Owen was born on March 18th
1893 at Plas Wilmot in Oswestry, to Tom and Susan Owen. Plas Wilmot
was a beautiful house, which had been in Wilfred's mother's family
for generations. Unfortunately, due to circumstances beyond their
control, the house had to be sold, when Wilfred was just four years
old. During his childhood, the family moved from Oswestry to
Shrewsbury, then to Birkenhead and back to Shrewsbury in various
houses, as the years rolled on. Throughout his youth, Owen
experimented with poetry in various forms. He was greatly inspired
by the poetry of his heroes and particularly the poetry of John
Keats. He even made a pilgrimage to the house where Keats lived and
stood in awe, imagining his hero living and writing there.
As many young people do, Owen had a number of
different jobs, before eventually moving to France in 1913, where he
taught English, on a freelance basis. He was living in France, when
war broke out in 1914. It was not long, before, inspired by some of
his literary heroes, he made the fateful decision to return to the UK
and join up in the Army, to do his bit for the war effort.
It was in late 1915, Owen joined up to the
Artists' Rifles regiment; a regiment for men in the arts. Later on,
he was commissioned into the Manchester Regiment. By the start of
1917, following extensive training and preparation, he found himself
in France. He was horrified by the appalling and freezing conditions
but he carried on regardless and did his duty to the best of his
ability.
Like a lot of soldiers, In June 1917, Owen was
evacuated from the battlefield, suffering with shell shock. He had
seen some horrendous scenes, which I doubt we could ever imagine,
even in our wildest dreams. While his poems give an insight into the
harrowing experiences he undoubtedly gained, he affords his reader,
in some poems, a sense of distance, which almost provides a layer of
protection from the grisly truth, despite his graphic descriptions.
In July, whilst receiving treatment for his shell shock, in
Craiglockhart hospital, he met Siegfried Sassoon; a fellow soldier
and poet. Sassoon believed there was much to be gained from telling
the truth about the war, through poetry. He became firm friends with
Owen and the two worked closely on their poetry. Assisted by this
friendship, Owen's poetry went from strength to strength until he had
created the body of poetic masterpieces, which have made him one of
the greatest First World War poets.
A year after being evacuated from the
battlefield, Owen returned to France. He was awarded the Military
Cross for an assault on the Beaurevoir Fonsomme line. The decision,
to return to active service, was to prove fatal. Owen was killed in
action, on the bank of the Oise-Sambre Canal, near to Ors on 4th
November 1918; just a week before the war ended.
Wilfred (as I am fond of calling him) now
occupies a special place in my heart. Reading about his life in
Jon Stallworthy's biography, it is impossible to imagine how such a
sensitive and artistic human being was able to become the war hero he
was. From a young age, Owen was fascinated by poetry and was
determined to become a successful poet, like his hero John Keats,
before him. Ironically, he was also obsessed with dying young; a
strangely prophetic thought, considering he was to lose his life in
the very war which would rob the world of – arguably - the best
poet of his time. Who knows what literary gems he might have
produced, had he survived.
I hope this has inspired you to think
differently about your studies of Wilfred Owen. Remember, there is
more to the study of literature than just learning the basic facts.
Behind every poet, and author is a story; a person.
For more information on Wilfred Owen, it is worth
checking out the Wilfred Owen Association website -
www.wilfredowen.org.uk
Next stop on our way was Oswestry Church, My guidebook informed me that there was a memorial bench in the churchyard in Wilfred's memory. After quite a lot of searching, we found it - a beautiful bench, inscribed with Wilfred's initials, his date of birth and the date of his death. Above it is a metal plaque, which bears more details about Wilfred, along with the full text of two of his poems - 'Anthem for Doomed Youth' and 'Futility' as shown below. I found this to be my favourite of all the monuments to Wilfred, which I have seen thus far. 
