Much past Canadian poetry described our people and landscape in lyrical terms. Combining research and wonder, this book burrows deeper—the first collection of poems in Canada devoted exclusively to geology and mining. Quite literally, it goes underground. From volcanoes to vitamins, the book presents a wealth of factual information. It also explores past, more fanciful notions about how rocks, metals, and minerals fit into our human picture. In its pages, knowledge and imagination meet. Part I introduces a little basic geology. Part II focuses on the seven metals of the ancients, linked to the planets and days of the week, plus platinum and uranium. Part III delves into myths and legends about the power of gemstones. Part IV looks at the history and technology of mining, and its social and economic impact. A helpful glossary concludes this unique book that brings science and poetry together.

This book offers new interpretations of Tennyson’s major poems along-side contemporary geology, and specifically Charles Lyell’s Principles of Geology (1830-3). Employing various approaches – from close readings of both the poetic and geological texts, historical contextualisation and the application of Bakhtin’s concept of dialogism – the book demonstrates not only the significance of geology for Tennyson’s poetry, but the vital import of Tennyson’s poetics in explicating the implications of geology for the nineteenth century and beyond. Gender ideologies in The Princess (1847) are read via High Miller’s geology, while the writings of Lyell and other contemporary geologist, comparative anatomists and language theorists are examined along-side In Memoriam (1851) and Maud (1855). The book argues that Tennyson’s experimentation with Lyell’s geology produced a remarkable ‘uniformitarian’ poetics that is best understood via Bakhtinian theory; a poetics that reveals the seminal role methodologies in geology played in the development of divisions between science and culture, and that also, quite profoundly, anticipates the crisis in language later associated with the linguistic turn of the twentieth century.

Why are rocks and landforms so prominent in British Romantic poetry? Why, for example, does Shelley choose a mountain as the locus of a "voice... to repeal / large codes of fraud and woe"? Why does a cliff, in the boat-stealing episode of Wordsworth's Prelude, chastise the young thief? Why is petrifaction, or "stonifying," in Blake's coinage, the ultimate figure of dehumanization? Noah Heringman maintains that British literary culture was fundamentally shaped by many of the same forces that created geology as a science in the period 1770–1820. He shows that landscape aesthetics—the verbal and social idiom of landscape gardening, natural history, the scenic tour, and other forms of outdoor "improvement"—provided a shared vernacular for geology and Romanticism in their formative stages.Romantic Rocks, Aesthetic Geology reexamines a wide range of eighteenth- and nineteenth-century poetry to discover its relationship to a broad cultural consensus on the nature and value of rocks and landforms. Equally interested in the initial surge of curiosity about the earth and the ensuing process of specialization, Heringman contributes to a new understanding of literature as a key forum for the modern reorganization of knowledge.