First, to get the big thing out of the way, the Rape scene appeared on page 45. So many of my questions have now been answered. The rape was (technically) consensual. That is to say Helga was willing, rather than being raped by force or extortion. She smiles, she experiences pleasure, she pulls her own body closer to his. But, she is also "a girl becoming a woman." Helga is young (how young?), and a married man with another mistress has taken advantage of her childishness. Also, the opening page seems to suggest that X is some kind of legal superior to her. So, this is a rape. X is a villain. But he is, perhaps, a softer villain than he could have been. Or I'm giving him credit because if my own American desire to find the central character of a work of literature sympathetic
Microcosm of the Novel
Today's reading was interesting in that it seemed to encompass all the important themes of the novel in one sitting. The first page featured Dagmar walking through the city streets (a common event on the novel), this time on her way to "this first meeting." She is, as usual, effortlessly beautiful despite herself and this seems to be her first romantic meeting (date) with X. This is the beginning of their romance. The second page contains a car wreck (another?) in which "death is so gentle it makes indifference easier." Who's death is unclear. Of course, most vague personal references in the novel seem to point to X, but that seems hard to accept in this case. This may be the "end" of Marianne. At any rate, it is an end. And this end just happens to occur the page after a beginning.
These two pages, then, create a sort of merism--the entire novel could take place between this beginning and this ending. The rest of today's reading seems to fall naturally between these two events, and the events on these pages represent the most important themes of the novel. Page 43 addresses the macro-cosmic events of the war, as anti-Nazi leaflets are dropped from a high window at Sorbonne (the University of Paris). Page 44 contains a description of Dagmar's apartment/studio where hangs her unfinished work Composition No. 1. Finally, page 45 (the last page of this session) contains the Rape scene--THE unifier of this novel.
If this had been a narrative strategy, it would have been a very interesting one. Narrate the beginning, then the end, then all the stuff in between. Of course, here, it's accidental, and is perhaps even an accident of my own interpretation.
Showing posts with label implied X. Show all posts
Showing posts with label implied X. Show all posts
Tuesday, October 25, 2011
Tuesday, October 11, 2011
X's Three Women
I read ten pages today instead of five, which is probably okay since I have catching up to do anyway. Today, we are back to the serendipity of theme. A lot of today's pages dealt with Marianne.
Francine is dying of intestinal cancer and Marianne, as before, refuses to leave her side. Marianne insists that she has cancer as well, but I suspect that her cancer is metaphorical. Dr. Brun doubts her self-diagnosis as well and suggests that Marianne has a nervous condition. In these pages, Marianne also threatens, apparently, to leave X and she goes so far as to leave the apartment building and get into the car, which she cannot drive. She also threatens suicide, locking herself in a bathroom. Interestingly, X does not take her seriously and continues his argument with her, implying that she is lazy (this is narrated and not quoted. X is still technically absent from this narrative). He finally must try to beat the door down and, when she comes out on her own, she has cut her wrists. The injury is not serious. On the last page of today's reading, she sits on the floor and sobs, refusing X's help in standing. The reason she gives for her anger is that he never calls her from work. This is clearly trivial, so she seems to be hiding the fact that she knows what is going on in X's other relationships, though she will not confront him.
Contrasting Marianne's character on these pages, we see Dagmar walking through the winter air in a well fitting dress. Dagmar seems constantly and effortlessly beautiful. So, considering Marianne's characterization as a fading, perhaps even dying woman, it is understandable that X would fall in love with her. Even if it is not honorable, it is forgivable. How can he be expected to resist falling in love with the vivacious Dagmar.
But then there's Helga. Whatever will happen with her is, even before it happens, unforgivable. On page 38, X appears in the garden below Helga's window. It is summer now and her window, depending on the angle from which one is looking at it, appear either black or bright white (a significant dichotomy). Helga finally sticks her head out the window and, seeing X, grins before thrusting her head back into the window and shutting it. Though her grinning seems coquettish and inviting, she is also taking detours to get into her apartment without X seeing her. So here, X seems a bit like Nabokov's Humbert Humbert. He takes Helga's nervous politeness as being purposefully alluring, as if she is playing a playful game with him. She may, in fact, be trying to escape him.
Synthesis:
By looking at the three women to whom X is connected, we get a complex look at X. X seems capable of romantic love with Dagmar, reluctant loyalty (though not faithfulness) to Marianne, and imperialistic brutality toward Helga.
Much of the way in which the reader will interpret X's character then may come from the order that these characters appear and the order that pieces of the narrative is revealed. The very first page of the novel, for me, contained the statute for rape. So from the very beginning, I knew X as a rapist. This characterization clouds all other views of X. Sure, he may wish to salvage his marriage, but he is salvaging it from his own horrific crimes. He may have a compelling romance with the easy to love Dagmar, but he is also a rapist.
Would this characterization change if the order of events had been different? If I knew of his failing marriage first, would I see his clearly exploitative (but not necessarily forced) affair with Helga as a desperate search for something he dies not get at home? If I knew of his love for Dagmar first, would I see his inappropriate dealings with Helga as the flaw of a man who is too easily enamored with pretty things? Or would the rape take over, even if it had come at the end? To what extent, then, is the softening or hardening of my feeling for X determined by the line of the story?
Francine is dying of intestinal cancer and Marianne, as before, refuses to leave her side. Marianne insists that she has cancer as well, but I suspect that her cancer is metaphorical. Dr. Brun doubts her self-diagnosis as well and suggests that Marianne has a nervous condition. In these pages, Marianne also threatens, apparently, to leave X and she goes so far as to leave the apartment building and get into the car, which she cannot drive. She also threatens suicide, locking herself in a bathroom. Interestingly, X does not take her seriously and continues his argument with her, implying that she is lazy (this is narrated and not quoted. X is still technically absent from this narrative). He finally must try to beat the door down and, when she comes out on her own, she has cut her wrists. The injury is not serious. On the last page of today's reading, she sits on the floor and sobs, refusing X's help in standing. The reason she gives for her anger is that he never calls her from work. This is clearly trivial, so she seems to be hiding the fact that she knows what is going on in X's other relationships, though she will not confront him.
Contrasting Marianne's character on these pages, we see Dagmar walking through the winter air in a well fitting dress. Dagmar seems constantly and effortlessly beautiful. So, considering Marianne's characterization as a fading, perhaps even dying woman, it is understandable that X would fall in love with her. Even if it is not honorable, it is forgivable. How can he be expected to resist falling in love with the vivacious Dagmar.
But then there's Helga. Whatever will happen with her is, even before it happens, unforgivable. On page 38, X appears in the garden below Helga's window. It is summer now and her window, depending on the angle from which one is looking at it, appear either black or bright white (a significant dichotomy). Helga finally sticks her head out the window and, seeing X, grins before thrusting her head back into the window and shutting it. Though her grinning seems coquettish and inviting, she is also taking detours to get into her apartment without X seeing her. So here, X seems a bit like Nabokov's Humbert Humbert. He takes Helga's nervous politeness as being purposefully alluring, as if she is playing a playful game with him. She may, in fact, be trying to escape him.
Synthesis:
By looking at the three women to whom X is connected, we get a complex look at X. X seems capable of romantic love with Dagmar, reluctant loyalty (though not faithfulness) to Marianne, and imperialistic brutality toward Helga.
Much of the way in which the reader will interpret X's character then may come from the order that these characters appear and the order that pieces of the narrative is revealed. The very first page of the novel, for me, contained the statute for rape. So from the very beginning, I knew X as a rapist. This characterization clouds all other views of X. Sure, he may wish to salvage his marriage, but he is salvaging it from his own horrific crimes. He may have a compelling romance with the easy to love Dagmar, but he is also a rapist.
Would this characterization change if the order of events had been different? If I knew of his failing marriage first, would I see his clearly exploitative (but not necessarily forced) affair with Helga as a desperate search for something he dies not get at home? If I knew of his love for Dagmar first, would I see his inappropriate dealings with Helga as the flaw of a man who is too easily enamored with pretty things? Or would the rape take over, even if it had come at the end? To what extent, then, is the softening or hardening of my feeling for X determined by the line of the story?
Fade
As soon as I write about serendipitous thematic threads appearing in these pages, I get a set that seems disconnected. In today's reading, Dagmar dances with a black man, and the text suggests that she has her own kind if racism which causes her to be nicest to "jews and negroes." We also see the police watching an intersection with sub-machine guns. They stop cars, talk to the drivers then let them pass. They are looking for someone and, since this is the only intersection in the city they watch, they have specific information. We also see X climbing a dark stair case (the return of the dark hallway from earlier). He puts oil into the lock mechanism of the office door at the top of the stairs to keep the mechanism quiet so as not to alert the nightwatchman. He holds a skeleton key.
There is a thread across two pages, however. On page 26, Marianne eats only grapes (actually, on the juice from one grape) because she is sick, and tells X so. Of course, the reader immediately thinks of pregnancy, but the text suggests something else. She is aging prematurely and wearing a stained dress.
On page 28, unpaid bills are stuck into the frame of a mirror along with an insufficient funds notice. These are here so "Marianne won't forget." So we see a picture of Marianne fading, in health, in beauty, and in wealth. X's actions and her marriage to him are having profound effects on her.
There is a thread across two pages, however. On page 26, Marianne eats only grapes (actually, on the juice from one grape) because she is sick, and tells X so. Of course, the reader immediately thinks of pregnancy, but the text suggests something else. She is aging prematurely and wearing a stained dress.
On page 28, unpaid bills are stuck into the frame of a mirror along with an insufficient funds notice. These are here so "Marianne won't forget." So we see a picture of Marianne fading, in health, in beauty, and in wealth. X's actions and her marriage to him are having profound effects on her.
Monday, September 26, 2011
Continuity and the Fractured Novel
Today's pages raised questions about the point of view of this novel and also broader questions about continuity in literature as a whole.
Point of View
The point of view question may be a premature one, as I have read only ten pages of the 150. But in two scenes today and in at least one from my last session, the main character (generally called X in literature about the work, and in Saporta's original introduction) is alluded to but his actions are never specifically explicated. Marianne (X's wife) "answers," "asks," and shuts doors, but no other character does anything. X's presence, language, and actions are only implied. After two days, I am left to wonder if this will be the way X is dealt with throughout the book, or if he will at some points, have a more explicit presence.
And if he doesn't, what does that mean for the point-of-view of the novel? It is third person, but on the pages where X is implied, the point-of-view seems so close to him that the narrative need not even mention him. Though the narrative is in third person, these pages are seen through the view of X himself. Of course, it is early to tell if this is indeed what is going on. Certainly, most of the pages so far have not involved (so far as the reader can tell) X, and thus are not seen through his point-of-view. Or are they? Are these pages his own imaginative constructions of events he knows about but must invent possibilities as to how these events unfolded? Whatever the case, figuring out the narrative perspective of the novel is adding a layer to interpretation that I had not anticipated.
Continuity and Narrative
The other issue coming out of today's reading is that of narrative continuity. The events of today's pages were rather disjointed. They include a gambler at a craps table, X and Marianne picking up a bloody hitch-hiker, Dagmar in the hospital with Helga looking on, Marianne making a mess of cooking, and Dagmar made up in candlelight, chewing on her lip.
I find that my mind, whether by habit of training or by natural tendency, is trying to connect these pieces somehow chronologically (though I feel comfortable with the idea that they are out of order). I find that I am waiting and searching for clues that will tell me how these events are to unfold in time. But I suspect that these events will remain disjointed and random.
It feels as if I am incredibly inclined to look for continuity to these events. I am now wondering whether this is a reaction to my having been habituated to the idea that continuity is an important part of narrative fiction or of this is a natural reaction. I am, as a post-modern, disinclined to believe that anything is natural, and in fact I do not seem to feel the same type of drive to connect the random events in my life to form some kind of real-world continuity. Or do I?
Is this what we are doing when we try to analyze how our upbringing, or the events in our past have led us to the point where we now find ourselves? While certainly, because of laws of cause and effect, some things from our past (especially the habits and attitudes were are taught, and perhaps large events) effect the outcome of our lives. Certainly, we are effected by our past. But do we also sometimes feel inclined to find continuity where there may be none, to force real life events to fit together somehow when they in fact do not? Do I expect my life to be like a novel, or am I asking novels to be like life? Can a novel like Composition No. 1 help me to become comfortable with the randomness of human existence? Probably not, unless other texts reinforce this new view.
Point of View
The point of view question may be a premature one, as I have read only ten pages of the 150. But in two scenes today and in at least one from my last session, the main character (generally called X in literature about the work, and in Saporta's original introduction) is alluded to but his actions are never specifically explicated. Marianne (X's wife) "answers," "asks," and shuts doors, but no other character does anything. X's presence, language, and actions are only implied. After two days, I am left to wonder if this will be the way X is dealt with throughout the book, or if he will at some points, have a more explicit presence.
And if he doesn't, what does that mean for the point-of-view of the novel? It is third person, but on the pages where X is implied, the point-of-view seems so close to him that the narrative need not even mention him. Though the narrative is in third person, these pages are seen through the view of X himself. Of course, it is early to tell if this is indeed what is going on. Certainly, most of the pages so far have not involved (so far as the reader can tell) X, and thus are not seen through his point-of-view. Or are they? Are these pages his own imaginative constructions of events he knows about but must invent possibilities as to how these events unfolded? Whatever the case, figuring out the narrative perspective of the novel is adding a layer to interpretation that I had not anticipated.
Continuity and Narrative
The other issue coming out of today's reading is that of narrative continuity. The events of today's pages were rather disjointed. They include a gambler at a craps table, X and Marianne picking up a bloody hitch-hiker, Dagmar in the hospital with Helga looking on, Marianne making a mess of cooking, and Dagmar made up in candlelight, chewing on her lip.
I find that my mind, whether by habit of training or by natural tendency, is trying to connect these pieces somehow chronologically (though I feel comfortable with the idea that they are out of order). I find that I am waiting and searching for clues that will tell me how these events are to unfold in time. But I suspect that these events will remain disjointed and random.
It feels as if I am incredibly inclined to look for continuity to these events. I am now wondering whether this is a reaction to my having been habituated to the idea that continuity is an important part of narrative fiction or of this is a natural reaction. I am, as a post-modern, disinclined to believe that anything is natural, and in fact I do not seem to feel the same type of drive to connect the random events in my life to form some kind of real-world continuity. Or do I?
Is this what we are doing when we try to analyze how our upbringing, or the events in our past have led us to the point where we now find ourselves? While certainly, because of laws of cause and effect, some things from our past (especially the habits and attitudes were are taught, and perhaps large events) effect the outcome of our lives. Certainly, we are effected by our past. But do we also sometimes feel inclined to find continuity where there may be none, to force real life events to fit together somehow when they in fact do not? Do I expect my life to be like a novel, or am I asking novels to be like life? Can a novel like Composition No. 1 help me to become comfortable with the randomness of human existence? Probably not, unless other texts reinforce this new view.
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