The Paradoxical Poetics of Edith Sodergran

In December 1918, Edith Södergran, a 26-year-old poet living in an isolated village on the Finno-Russian border, wrote an open letter to the readers of Dagens Press, a Swedish-language newspaper in the capital city of Helsinki.¹ The letter, titled "Individuell Konst" ["Individual Art"], introduced Finland's readers to Södergran's second volume of poetry, Septemberlyran [The September Lyre].² Södergran believed this collection embodied a new creative spirit that would call forth a new kind of individual into being. Because Finland's readers had had very little exposure to the radical artistic experimentation that had been appearing in Europe's cultural centers for about a decade, Södergran felt compelled to articulate her vision for this new art in her homeland. She writes in her letter, "Denna bok är icke avsedd för publiken, knappast ens för de högre intellektuella kretsarna, endast för de få individer som stå närmast framtidens gräns" [This book is not intended for an audience, barely even for the higher intellectual circles, only for those few individuals who stand closest to the border of the future].³ Her letter issues a challenge to "those few individuals" to engage in acts of self-creation such as those that resulted in the new poems she was laying out before the public.

Södergran's open letter was the only European avant-garde manifesto of its time to be written by a woman.⁴ It was also the first manifesto in Swedish that heralded an historic break from lyrical convention and the birth of a new, modern poetry.⁵ However, it has never been recognized as such, probably because it was published in a small-circulation daily in Northern Europe for a limited and culturally conservative audience and signed by a single author claiming to represent a new kind of individual rather than a movement with a new set of rules. But her letter's loud and ecstatic tone, its highly stylized language, and its polemical function strongly affiliate it with the artistic manifestos of other European avant-garde movements proliferating in European cultural centers during this decade.⁶ In her letter, Södergran claims exceptional status for herself and the chosen few who are called to create the new art. She also titles her open letter in order to distinguish the new art she champions. Finally, the letter's poetic language and lofty tones let it stand alone as a self-contained art work and not merely an introductory remark.⁷ For example, Södergran writes, "Jag offrar själv varje atom av min kraft för mitt höga mål, jag lever helgonets liv, jag fördjupar mig i det högsta människoanden frambragt, jag undviker alla inflytelser av lägre art" [I myself sacrifice every atom of my power for my lofty goal, I live the life of a saint, I steep myself in the highest human spirit created, I shun all influences of a lower species].⁸ The letter's salvationist and purist lexicon links it semantically with the earlier manifestos of the Futurist movements in Russia and Italy (and Södergran was, in fact, living in St. Petersburg at the time those manifestos were published). Finally, true to the spirit of contemporary avant-garde movements, Södergran disparages her poems' aesthetic value, calling them "icke något annat än en intim kladd" [nothing but an intimate scribble]. She writes that her poems' unestimably high value stems instead from their origin; they are "från en individ av en ny art" [from an individual of a new sort]. As manifestos often do, Södergran's letter ends with an invitation to join the author in her noble quest: "Jag hoppas att jag icke blir ensam med det stora jag har att hämta" [I hope I will not be alone with the greatness I have to bring].⁹

Like other European avant-garde poets of this period, Södergran sought to exemplify her vision for a new art in the poetry she published. But while the artistic...