snicketsleuth:

Hello, @leighlemon!

Olaf’s parting words are a direct quotation of Philip Larkin’s “This Be The Verse” (Link). One of the reasons the poem isn’t quoted in full is that it contains profanity.

They fuck you up, your mum and dad.  
They may not mean to, but they do.  
They fill you with the faults they had
And add some extra, just for you.
But they were fucked up in their turn
By fools in old-style hats and coats,  
Who half the time were soppy-stern
And half at one another’s throats.
Man hands on misery to man.
It deepens like a coastal shelf.
Get out as early as you can,
And don’t have any kids yourself.
[Philip Larkin, “This Be The Verse” from “Collected Poems”]

I would argue that Olaf chooses this poem for two purposes.

One is to contradict the false narrative that the Baudelaire orphans (and the “noble” side of V.F.D. in general) have built up in their heads: that education automatically leads to moral progress, and that evil people are usually ignorant.

“I know that having a good vocabulary doesn’t
guarantee that I’m a good person,” the boy said. “But it does mean I’ve read a great deal. And in my experience,
well-read people are less likely to be evil.”
[The Slippery Slope, Chapter Five]

Of course, there is not usually a lightbulb hovering in
the air when someone has an idea, but the image of a lightbulb over
someone’s head has become a sort of symbol for thinking, just as the image of an eye, sadly, has
become a symbol for crime and devious behavior rather than integrity, the prevention of fire, and being
well-read.
[The Slippery Slope, Chapter Eleven]

“Well-read!” she repeated in a particularly
nasty tone of voice. “Being well-read won’t help you in this world. Many years ago, I was supposed to waste my
entire summer reading Anna Karenina, but I knew that silly book would never help me, so I threw it
into the fireplace.” She reached down and picked up a few more pieces of wood, which she tossed aside
with a snicker. “Look at your precious headquarters, volunteers! It’s as ruined as my book.
And look at me! I’m beautiful, fashionable, and I smoke cigarettes!” She laughed again, and pointed
at the children with a scornful finger. “If you didn’t spend all your time with your heads stuck in books,
you’d have that precious baby back.”
[The Slippery Slope, Chapter Twelve]

Although the “villainous” side of V.F.D has a strong anti-intellectual stance, Olaf’s actions contradict this ideology (many of his plans do require a strong dose of research and literary knowledge). He goes as far as writing his own plays under a pseudonym (”Al Funcoot”), probably because he doesn’t want people to realize he actually enjoys literature.

So Olaf’s decision to prove he can recite poems is a fantastic case of duality. On one hand, he’s getting back to the days of his education by V.F.D., with a strong emphasis on the love of literature. On one hand, he’s such a wicked person that it’s a criticism of V.F.D.’s ideology at the same time. None of the endoctrination seemed to do him much good. But it’s possible he does look back fondly on his past appreciation for poetry as it’s strongly tied to the happy memories he had growing up with Kit.

“‘The night has a thousand eyes,’” Kit said hoarsely, and lifted her head to face the villain. The Baudelaires could tell by her voice that she was
reciting the words of someone else. ’“And the day but one; yet the light
of the bright world dies with the dying sun. The mind has a thousand
eyes, and the heart but one: yet the light of a whole life dies when love
is done.’”
Count Olaf gave Kit a faint smile. “You’re not the only one who can recite the words of our associates,” he said, and then gazed out at the sea. The afternoon was nearly over, and soon the island would be covered in darkness. ’“Man hands on misery to man,’” the villain said. “’It deepens like a coastal shelf. Get out as early as you can–’” Here he coughed, a ghastly sound, and his hands clutched his chest. “’And don’t have any kids yourself,’” he finished, and uttered a short, sharp laugh.
[The End, Chapter Thirteen]

Although the “villainous” side of V.F.D has a strong anti-intellectual stance, Olaf’s actions contradict this ideology (many of his plans do require a strong dose of research and literary knowledge). He goes as far as writing his own plays under a pseudonym (”Al Funcoot”), probably because he doesn’t want people to realize he actually enjoys literature.

The second purpose of the poem is to cast a cynical, uncomfortable light on Olaf’s own life. As we learn in “The Penultimate Peril”, Olaf was orphaned at an early age by the Baudelaire parents, an event which may have been the triggering event on his path to villainay. Olaf’s response was to make Beatrice and Bertrand’s children orphans in turn and to inflict every misery he had suffered on to them. So he’s effectively become the very kind of person he hates. There’s a strong parallel with Larkin’s poem, which speaks of the incapacity to become a “proper” parent even though you’ve seen and experienced bad parenting while you were a child. It’s an ontological cycle of violence from which there is no escape. Olaf’s nefarious nihilism is strongly tied to this horrible realization.

It’s of course no wonder that the adoption of Carmelita Spats is what causes the Esme/Olaf break-up. While Esme is delighted to obtain a child to shape into her own image, Olaf seems extremely uncomfortable around Carmelita. The fact they apparently plan to steal Carmelita’s inheritance anyway only makes it worse. Anything that resembles parenting creepsout  Olaf. So it only makes sense that he utters this poem with one last maniacal laugh, as the woman he once loved dies giving birth to the child he could have raised with her.