Taylor Swift’s Complicated Embrace of Tortured Poets

Who was the first tortured poet? Maybe the ancient Egyptian who wrote, sometime in the 15th century BCE, “My beloved stirs my heart with his voice. He causes illness to seize me…. My heart is smitten.” Maybe the poet Catullus, whose heartbreaks lit up ancient Rome: “I hate and love,” he explained in Latin, “and it’s excruciating,” or (depending on the translator) “it crucifies me.” Petrarch’s sonnets, in 14th century Italy, complained that love both scorched and chilled. Mary Wroth, a contemporary of Shakespeare, agreed: love made her “burn and yet freeze: better in hell to be.”

All those poets felt tortured by erotic love—and their strife sometimes hurt other people, too, if they came too close. The trope of the tortured poet whose gifts would destroy him (or, less often, her) came about later, when European writers began to see poets as especially sensitive, anguished, or fragile. “We poets in our youth begin in gladness,” William Wordsworth mused in 1802, “But thereof in the end come despondency and madness.” That second line lengthens as if unfolding hard truth. A genuine poet in France might be a “poète maudit” (“cursed poet”), like Charles Baudelaire or Arthur Rimbaud, marked by fate, mental illness, or alcohol addiction. By the 20th century the type (or stereotype, really) could fit all manner of wild and self-destructive creators, especially men, from Dylan Thomas to the Doors’ Jim Morrison.

By calling her new album The Tortured Poets Department, Taylor Swift points back to this tradition. She also makes fun of it, comments on it, and rejects it, as the prose that accompanied the album implies. “There is nothing to avenge, no scores to settle once wounds have healed,” Swift wrote in an Instagram post. “Our tears become holy in the form of ink on a page. Once we have spoken our saddest story, we can be free of it.”

Seeing her work as ink on a page, not only as song in the air, Swift claims herself as a literary writer—the modern age’s most notorious…