In all of the novels we've read this semester, there are moments in which our protagonists fall backward a bit. They've done something they don't know how to process (or don't want to), they're overwhelmed by a situation, or they can feel themselves entering unknown territory. In moments like these, they all move backward into something they know, something safe and grounded and real. Though it's a general theory, I think this idea of regression (or back-stepping?) is a cool thread to look at between the books.
I wrote about Stephen's regression in Portrait for my essay, and it led me to really think about the way in which he returns to religion a lot. He's sleeping with heaps of prostitutes at one point and letting his life slide but, when the sermon terrifies him to his core and he realizes what he's done, he throws himself back into piety, something he knew when he was younger and shaped himself around. Yes, he gets away from religion later in the book, but this sort of retreat into the familiar land of Catholicism is, for Stephen, a step back into the comfort of a childhood regime. Of course, he goes overboard and it's not the same as his behavior when he was younger by any means, but just roll with me here!
In Catcher, Holden has the steadfast comfort of Phoebe and her closeness. He thinks about her all the time, holds on to this idea of her being in the same city as him and how he should phone her, and thinks about how absolutely great she is constantly. By the end of the book, he's thinking of Phoebe not only as someone he loves, but also as an anchor. After all the shit that has gone down, he's still got this emblem of affection and purity and his own personal life that has remained untouched, and that's Phoebe. Particularly, I think Holden's case ties into so much stuff -- his fear of adulthood, his dealing with Allie's death, Jane's growing up, sexuality, depression, etc. -- but Phoebe is safe from all of that, or at least his memories of her are.
In The Bell Jar, after the scene at Lenny's house, Esther uses a bath as a way to re-center herself and talks about the beauty and power of a good hot bath. She's just walked away from a generally wild and uncomfortable night full of things she's just not too keen on (men who don't get it, creeps, sexuality, public performance, etc.), and the bath comes as the washing away of sins and discomfort. Esther hasn't necessarily been the perpetrator, but I undestand her in the sense that watching other people do stuff you're not cool with -- especially people you're hanging out with and thought you liked -- is super awkward and icky. The hot bath is the retreat, and Esther talks about how she is going back, back, dissolving New York and Lenny and Doreen and starting anew, a ritualistic rebirth.
This concept of retreat isn't particularly surprising; growing up is a difficult and weird thing and we've found all of our protagonists in the pits of their "awakenings," you could say. Many times along the way, a new experience or a realization is just too much for you to handle at that point, and some sort of denial is needed to be like "okay, I'm alright, I don't have to deal with that yet" (think in these books: sexuality, sin, the outside world, the future, etc.). It's a habit I'm sympathetic to, so it doesn't surprise me to see this in coming-of-age novels, but it's interesting anyway to see how that idea runs throughout each of the books we've read so far :-)
I like the common thread that you found of all the characters retreating to something they know when something new happens. I think it is worth noting that in Portrait, this is a religious experience. In the other two book, the language that is used makes it feel like an almost religious experience, especially in the bell jar, where she says that she feels "about a hot bath the way those religious people feel about holy water". This could mean that all of these characters see religion, or their equivalent, as something safe that they can fall back on if anything goes wrong.
ReplyDeleteI think it was really cool that you made the connection between all three books. I think the fact that similar events happen in all three reflects that all of us need some kind of anchor when dealing with the trials and tribulations of growing up.
ReplyDeleteI often find myself retreating to what I consider to be a safer, more comfortable environment when I am very stressed or under a lot of pressure. I agree that it was not very surprising to see the characters do the same when they feel as if they are falling apart. However, I had not made the connection that this is pattern consistent between books as well. I think that the Lenny and Doreen example is good, but it is harder to see a retreat when Esther is suffering from depression. The hospital is what makes her feel better, like the retreat in Portrait and Catcher, but it is less a retreat than it is a step forward.
ReplyDeleteHolden is an interesting and complicated example of this dynamic. In a sense, his recurrent escape fantasies can be seen as a manifestation of this desire to "retreat" (in contrast to Dedalus's escape fantasies, which epitomize his coming-of-age and his eagerness to define himself apart from his formative influences). Holden's Colorado/Vermont fantasies are way more "make believe" than Stephen's, and represent more a desire to be outside the game he's currently in than a desire to play this different game. (How happy do we really picture pretend-deaf-mute gas-station-attendant hermit Holden to be? Wouldn't he be every bit as "lonely," constantly thinking of who he should call up for some decent conversation?)
ReplyDeleteBut you're right that the movement *home* to Phoebe is also a form of retreat, and a more realistic and grounded one. But I always think about the fact--and Holden glimpses this, in the carrousel scene--that Phoebe is just about to age out of this special zone, and she can't remain that perfect little kid forever. How will Holden deal with a sixteen-year-old Phoebe, or a twenty-one-year-old Phoebe? It might be Jane Gallagher all over again.