Eric Bloodaxe Character Analysis in Look Mom I'm a Poet

Overview: A Viking in the Margins of a Poetry Collection

Eric Bloodaxe appears in only two poems in Andrew Shaffer's Look Mom I'm a Poet, yet he lingers as one of the collection's most memorable figures. He is not a protagonist in any traditional sense—there is no continuous narrative, no rising action, no climax. Instead, he surfaces as a historical curiosity reimagined through the book's signature blend of anachronism, irony, and deadpan humor. The poems present him as a tenth-century Norwegian ruler with a reputation for spectacular violence, but they also invite us to wonder what lies beneath the blood-soaked nickname. In doing so, Bloodaxe becomes a vehicle for exploring themes of identity, constraint, and the gap between public persona and private self—concerns that echo throughout the collection.

The character is grounded in two chapters: Chapter 58, “The Ballad of Eric Bloodaxe” and Chapter 67, “Overheard in a Tenth Century Coffee Shop”. The first is a ballad that recounts his historical deeds and then pivots to a speculative meditation on his inner life. The second is a brief, overheard snippet of dialogue that places him in an anachronistic setting, hinting at an unexpected romantic dimension. Together, these poems construct a character who is at once monstrous and oddly relatable—a figure trapped by his own reputation.

Plot Role in the Collection

Because Look Mom I'm a Poet is a collection of short poems rather than a linear story, Bloodaxe does not drive a plot. His role is thematic and symbolic. He appears as a recurring motif of violent masculinity, but also as a case study in the limits of labels. The ballad in Chapter 58 serves as a kind of character sketch, while the coffee shop poem in Chapter 67 offers a comedic counterpoint, placing him in a mundane modern setting where he becomes the object of an unexpected crush.

In the broader structure of the book, Bloodaxe fits alongside other poems that juxtapose historical or literary figures with contemporary absurdity—for example, the poem about Lord Byron in Chapter 7, “I Read Your Chapbook” or the Santa Claus poem in Chapter 34. These poems use anachronism to deflate grandiosity and to question the authenticity of artistic and personal identities. Bloodaxe’s role is to embody the tension between a fearsome public image and the possibility of a more nuanced inner life.

Motivations and Traits: The Axe and the Dagger

The explicit facts about Bloodaxe come directly from the ballad. He was a tenth-century Norwegian ruler whose given surname was Haraldsson. He earned the nickname “Eric Bloodaxe” because he “loved to hack people to bits.” He murdered his half-brothers, and for a while he tried out the alternative nickname “Eric the Killer of Brothers,” but that never caught on. The poem then notes that he used his axe to slay “sisters, fathers, mothers, sons, and daughters, too.”

These details establish his primary trait: a brutal, almost indiscriminate enthusiasm for violence. Yet the poem immediately complicates this portrait. The narrator wonders whether Bloodaxe felt “a little constrained by the whole ‘Bloodaxe’ thing.” The implication is that his nickname, while accurate, may have become a cage. The narrator imagines him picking up a dagger from time to time and, “like a poet reading prose, his mind going dizzy with the myriad possibilities, wondering, What if…?”

This is a crucial interpretive moment. The text does not state that Bloodaxe actually felt constrained or that he ever used a dagger; it is the narrator’s speculation. But the comparison to a poet reading prose suggests a desire for versatility, for a different mode of expression. Bloodaxe, in this reading, is not merely a one-dimensional killer but a figure who might have yearned for a broader repertoire—just as a poet might tire of a single form. This aligns with the collection’s broader critique of performative authenticity: the idea that we become trapped by the roles we adopt, even when they are self-chosen.

The coffee shop poem adds another layer. The speaker says, “Thee didn’t think / thou liked Eric Bloodaxe / in that way.” This is a direct address to someone who has apparently confessed an attraction to the Viking. The archaic pronouns (“thee,” “thou”) create a comedic clash with the modern setting, but they also suggest that Bloodaxe’s appeal might extend beyond his violent reputation. The poem leaves the nature of that attraction ambiguous—romantic? sexual?—but it implies that even a figure like Bloodaxe can be the object of desire. This complicates the portrait further, hinting at a charisma that the historical record might not capture.

Chronological Arc: From Ballad to Coffee Shop

The book does not present a linear timeline for Bloodaxe. Chapter 58 offers a retrospective account of his life, while Chapter 67 places him in a fictional, anachronistic scene. We can, however, trace a thematic arc across these two appearances.

In the ballad, Bloodaxe is defined by his past actions. The poem moves from his historical deeds to the narrator’s speculation about his inner state. The tone is wry and contemplative, ending on the open-ended “What if…?” This suggests a character who is not fully satisfied with his legacy.

In the coffee shop poem, Bloodaxe is not even present; he is only mentioned. The focus is on the speaker’s reaction to someone else’s attraction. This shifts the perspective from Bloodaxe’s own consciousness to how others perceive him. The archaic language (“Thee,” “thou”) implies a timelessness—he exists outside of history, available for reinterpretation. The poem’s brevity and lack of resolution mirror the ballad’s open-endedness. Together, the two poems suggest that Bloodaxe’s story is not fixed; it is subject to ongoing speculation and reinvention.

Relationships: Violence and Desire

Bloodaxe’s relationships in the ballad are almost entirely violent. He murdered his half-brothers, and the poem lists other family members—sisters, fathers, mothers, sons, daughters—as victims of his axe. These are not relationships in any meaningful sense; they are acts of annihilation. The poem does not provide context or motive, only the stark fact of the killings. This absence of explanation makes Bloodaxe’s violence seem arbitrary and total.

The coffee shop poem introduces a different kind of relationship: one of attraction. The speaker’s line implies that the addressee has confessed to liking Bloodaxe “in that way.” This is a startling juxtaposition—romantic interest in a figure known for dismemberment. The poem does not develop the relationship further, but it suggests that Bloodaxe’s reputation does not preclude affection. Perhaps the attraction is ironic, or perhaps it speaks to a fascination with power and danger. Either way, it adds a layer of complexity to his character, hinting at a magnetism that transcends his deeds.

Key Decisions and Consequences

The ballad highlights one explicit decision: Bloodaxe’s attempt to adopt the nickname “Eric the Killer of Brothers.” The poem states that this “second sobriquet never really caught on.” The consequence is that he remained “Eric Bloodaxe,” a name that, while accurate, may have felt limiting. The narrator’s speculation about the dagger suggests that Bloodaxe might have considered other methods of violence but never acted on them—or if he did, it is not recorded.

The decision to embrace the “Bloodaxe” identity, even if it was not entirely voluntary, has lasting consequences. It defines how he is remembered. The poem’s final image—a man picking up a dagger and wondering “What if…?”—implies a regret or at least a curiosity about alternative paths. This connects to the theme of the absurd gap between artistic ambition and mundane reality: Bloodaxe’s ambition, if we can call it that, is to be more than his nickname, but reality (or history) confines him to it.

Theme Connections

Bloodaxe’s character resonates with several of the collection’s central themes.

The commodification of poetry and artistic complicity: The ballad itself is a kind of commodity—a retelling of a violent life for entertainment. Bloodaxe’s nickname is a brand, and he is trapped by it. This mirrors how poets in the collection are often trapped by market expectations, as seen in the critique of Instagram poets in Chapter 7.
The absurd gap between artistic ambition and mundane reality: The narrator’s image of Bloodaxe as a would-be dagger user is absurd—a Viking contemplating a change of weapon as if it were a stylistic choice. This gap between his grand violence and the petty concern of “what if” is both comic and poignant.
Critique of performative authenticity: Bloodaxe’s nickname is a performance, but it becomes his identity. The poem questions whether he ever had a choice, and whether his violence was authentic or merely a role he played. This echoes the collection’s broader skepticism about self-presentation.
Ironic treatment of mortality, grief, and nostalgia: The ballad treats murder and death with a deadpan, almost cheerful tone. The list of victims is delivered without emotion, undercutting any sense of tragedy. This ironic distance is typical of the book’s approach to dark subjects.
The failure of language and social connection: The coffee shop poem’s archaic pronouns (“thee,” “thou”) highlight the difficulty of communication across time and context. The speaker’s surprise at the attraction suggests a failure to understand another’s feelings, a recurring motif in the collection.

Questions and Answers

What nickname did Eric Bloodaxe try to adopt, and why did it fail?

He tried “Eric the Killer of Brothers,” but it never caught on. The poem suggests it was probably too limiting, since he also killed sisters, fathers, mothers, sons, and daughters.

What does the narrator speculate about Bloodaxe’s feelings toward his nickname?

The narrator wonders if Bloodaxe felt constrained by the “Bloodaxe” label, imagining him picking up a dagger and considering other possibilities, much like a poet reading prose.

In Chapter 67, what is the speaker’s reaction to the addressee’s attraction to Bloodaxe?

The speaker expresses surprise, saying “Thee didn’t think / thou liked Eric Bloodaxe / in that way,” implying the attraction was unexpected.

How does the ballad characterize Bloodaxe’s violence?

It is described as enthusiastic and indiscriminate—he “loved to hack people to bits” and used his axe on a wide range of family members.

What does the narrator compare Bloodaxe’s potential use of a dagger to?

The narrator compares it to a poet reading prose, suggesting a shift in perspective and a sense of new possibilities.

Conclusion: A Figure of Speculation

Eric Bloodaxe in Look Mom I'm a Poet is less a character than a canvas for the book’s recurring obsessions: identity, constraint, and the absurdity of reputation. The ballad gives him a violent history, but the narrator’s speculation opens a door to a more introspective figure. The coffee shop poem then places him in a context where he is desired, not feared. These two glimpses do not resolve into a coherent portrait; instead, they invite the reader to wonder, as the narrator does, “What if…?” In that open-ended question, Bloodaxe becomes a symbol of the gap between who we are and who we are perceived to be—a gap that the entire collection explores with wit and melancholy.

For further exploration, see the themes that shape his portrayal, the ending explained for how the collection concludes, or the questions and answers for more discussion.