Emily Dickinson and Bugs Bunny: Kin Under the Skin
by Harvey Dickinson Coney
Whilst it might seem a startling notion, that a 19th-century poet and a cartoon character of the 20th have much in common, nonetheless we can easily demonstrate a stunning similarity in the work of these two creative artists. To start, we can notice that each is from a group that can be defined as an underclass: Dickinson, a female poet and a spinster of an era when neither category held any respected value in the world; Bunny, a cartoon jokester, generally unclothed, non-white and non-human. Nonetheless, both have achieved great fame and even, perhaps, immortality in their respective arts.
Notice first that each is a master of the brief and pungent in expression. Bunny is a satirist, a humorist of the one-liner par excellence; Dickinson's own humor is similarly wry and packs a mean punch, while she unfailingly makes her point with the fewest possible words. Neither is ever long-winded. Both take deadly accurate aim at the stodgy and unquestioned pillars of conventional habit.
Each has become an icon of cultural literacy, and the work of each is a rich repository of fertile memes of understanding and expression. Each expanded the boundaries of literary art beyond what had been considered its purview previously. No one had ever written like Dickinson and even now no one could possibly emulate her voice and style with any success. As for Bunny, the Saturday Morning Cartoon, in his capable feet, became a vehicle of biting cultural commentary and satire while entirely retaining its value as a child's entertainment. This implies yet another similarity: Dickinson is often mistakenly considered by the unperceptive to be a minor poet, of sweetness and no depth, as Bunny is most often thought of as a simple cartoon character, a minor entertainment for the very young. Both invite of the perspicacious a second, and longer, look which in each case reveals surprising depths of resonance and meaning.
One finds in their work this common, overarching theme: the courting and escaping of Death. Dickinson openly calls Death's bluff, epressing an almost cozy familiarity with that state, and seeming at times to blatantly invite it into her intimate sphere. Bunny rudely defies Death in every episode, essaying complex and mysterious escapes from its clutches and thumbing his nose at fear.
Indeed, one might consider Emily Dickinson and Bugs Bunny siblings in art. Easy to imagine Emily munching a carrot like a cigar and intoning, "Nyeh... What's up, Doc?" whilst Bunny proclaims, "I'm Nobody! Who are You? Are you Nobody too?"
Yes, a common Muse has blessed these two in a creative friendship, deeper than gender, class, century, or even species.
What on EARTH was she THINKING!?!?!?
