Never Let Me Go: A Different Dystopian Style

Never Let Me Go by Kazuo Ishiguro is almost certainly a dystopian novel. It varies significantly from classics like 1984, A Brave New World, or Fahrenheit 451 in how much less drastic the difference seems to be between our society and the one in the novel. It has many of the archetypal components of dystopian literature, like characters who don’t know much about how or why their society works as it does, slang which uses common English words to describe concepts completely different from their meaning in the real world, and a suggestive undercurrent of malevolent secrecy which slowly rises to the surface throughout the story. The main aspect of the novel which sets it apart from classic dystopian works is the fact that the characters seem to understand large parts of what the average person would consider the nefarious aspects of their society, but the narrator reveals them sparingly. In Fahrenheit 451, for example, the narrator knows that the government is burning books and controlling many aspects of life, and states these directly. I find Never Let Me Go more artistic in its exposition. The narrator is telling the story in the way she would to someone who already understands the way her society works, and most details the reader gleans from the book are casually mentioned in the course of the narrative, rather than thrown in the reader’s face. This is quite a refreshing style in a genre which is often cliché in all but the basic details about the particular form of dystopia.

Postmodernism in the Ending of Alias Grace

Postmodern writing is supposed to leave the reader uncomfortable with the ending. This is because postmodernism, as a philosophy, states that there are infinite interpretations, therefore, postmodern writing necessarily leaves multiple interpretations. Even though Atwood seemingly leaves numerous clues as to the alleged guilt of Grace, there are never enough clues to truly be sure of anything one didn’t personally experience. One can never know what truly happened because one cannot distinguish whether or not Grace was hiding the truth because she was trying to protect herself because of her lower status, or because she was guilty and trying to hide it. This is how reality works, no one can ever really know for sure the truthfulness of what another person is saying.

Bowen Stories Compare/Contrast

The Demon Lover and The Happy Autumn Fields are both extremely subtle yet terrifying vignettes centered upon female protagonists with mysterious love interests who are implied to have died before becoming fully betrothed or married to the main character. Both tales also make extensive use of changes in the temporal setting (flashbacks are clearly used in the case of The Demon Lover, but the changes in The Happy Autumn Fields are fairly vague as to which parts are the main setting of the piece). The most significant similarity between the two stories is the ambiguity of the endings. Neither story fully resolves itself in the way most works of fiction tend to. However, the degree to which the ending remains open-ended is far more significant in The Happy Autumn Fields. I have yet to gain what I feel like would be a complete understanding of The Happy Autumn Leaves, whereas the implied conclusion to The Demon Lover is relatively clear. While these stories are Modernist in terms of epoch, they contain many elements of Post-Modernism.

Mrs Dalloway Response

1/29/2018 Response to Mrs. Dalloway – Theme/Issue

Mrs. Dalloway, written by Virginia Woolf, addresses from multiple perspectives the societal impact of what was at the time called the Great War, (although it is now known as the First World War, due to the fact that there was a second Great War not long after). The First World War was so impactful, in fact, that in Woolf’s Mrs. Dalloway it is simply referred to as “the War”. Septimus Warren Smith is the character who is the most obviously and deeply affected by “the War”. He is clearly a victim of what was contemporaneously called ‘shell-shock’, but today is known as the psychological condition PTSD, or post traumatic-stress disorder. At the time, PTSD was called ‘shell-shock’ because it was thought to have been caused by the heavy and hitherto-unseen artillery bombardments which soldiers on both sides were forced to withstand, with no way to protect themselves besides huddling in their trenches and waiting for the torrent to subside. However, Woolf seems to demonstrate a far more modern understanding of PTSD in the character of Septimus Smith than psychiatrists at the time did. In fact, Septimus’ character in the story is supposed to have seen a psychiatrist, who said there was “nothing wrong with him”. Septimus suffers irrational terror, delusions, and hallucinations, which center around his friend Evans who died in the fighting during the Great War. PTSD is still not wholly understood; it manifests itself due to as many causes and in as many forms as there are people who suffer from it. However, Woolf’s characterization of Septimus seems to correspond with the current explanation of PTSD that makes the most sense to me, as described by the psychologist Dr. Jordan Peterson. Peterson’s description of PTSD is as follows:

“The more serious the events that you’re discussing with people, the more the language shifts towards what you might describe as the religious, so for example, post traumatic-stress disorder… they’re best conceptualized with regards to a dialogue about the nature of good and evil, and in fact, with PTSD, that’s actually necessary, I believe. Most people develop PTSD… not so much when something terrible happens to them, but when something terrible happens to them because of someone malevolent.” (Peterson)

Whether you are religious, atheist, agnostic, spiritual, or anywhere in between, if you are open to believing in the idea that evil exists in human beings (an idea which can be easily affirmed if you know anything about the ideals and actions of the Third Reich, the Soviet Union, or the Spanish Inquisition), then the conceptualization of PTSD that Peterson describes should not be hard to grasp. This description of PTSD seems to fit well with Woolf’s Septimus Smith character, because he has seen great evils committed, the collective weight of which was driven home by the death of his comrade Evans. It is very interesting that a writer like Woolf seems to have understood PTSD better than contemporary psychiatrists, although given her own mental affectations, it is not perhaps that surprising.

 

Works Cited

“Jordan Peterson talks about PTSD and a philosophy for good & evil.” YouTube, YouTube, 2 Dec. 2017, www.youtube.com/watch?v=vT-zQfqt7QM.

 

Psychoanalytic Criticism of The Turn of the Screw

Henry James’ main character, who is meant to have written almost all of The Turn of the Screw in first-person, was simply named in the story as ‘the Governess’. According to Stanley Renner, she was meant to be subtly portrayed as the victim of an archaic Freudian psychological affliction called ‘sexual hysteria’, not as a person actually encountering supernatural entities. Renner asserts that the spectral incarnations of Miss Jessel and Peter Quint were intended only to be understood as hallucinations brought on by this condition. The primary (and almost completely solitary) pieces of evidence Renner presents are the physical traits of Peter Quint’s shade which the Governess describes to Mrs. Grose, and the physiognominal implications of said traits at the time the story was written. The most significant of these, to Renner, were his red hair and expressive eyebrows, although the lack of a hat and the coldness of Quint’s eyes are also mentioned. Renner goes into extreme depth explaining the contemporary biblical, literary, and Freudian implications of the Governess’ description of Quint’s ghost. Renner does, however, state clearly that he doesn’t actually believe in ‘sexual hysteria’, only that portraying the Governess as suffering from such was James’ intent. I see this as a stretch, even given the vast amounts of well-cited evidence Renner invokes in his argument. I simply cannot dismiss the Governess’ original and unknowing description of Quint’s ghost standing on the tower of Bly, which Mrs. Grose verifies as accurate. Renner makes a compelling argument that the Governess was describing the contemporaneous archetype of a sexually improprietous man. I believe though, that if her description bears any significance, it was because James wanted to make clear to the reader that Quint was sexually improprietous in life, not because he wanted to characterize the Governess as suffering from ‘sexual hysteria’.

The Turn of the Screw: Aesthetics

(Turned in by originally by email, posted late in case anyone wants to read it)

            Any halfway-decent horror story, be it print or film, makes use of foreshadowing to build up the tension. I’ve found, though, that the most chilling tales often use implication and ambiguity rather than explicit details to convey the fear, even during the story’s climax. This makes the terror deeply psychological, rather than hitting the audience over the head with it. The mind is almost always capable of imagining more disturbing possibilities than any physical danger a writer could describe. Edgar Allen Poe uses this idea masterfully in The Tell-Tale Heart, among other stories, and H.P. Lovecraft also does so in many of his best works, The Colour Out of Space being one of the best examples. In The Turn of the Screw, Henry James also uses subtle suggestion to instill the majority of the sense of horror and dread present throughout the story. Even in the scenes where the apparitions that haunt Bly appear, they are described minimally and take part in barely any of the action. They are not even described as specters at first, and the reader only realizes the truth of their ghostliness when Mrs. Grose tells the governess that the man she described who was watching her from the tower had died months ago. Even the climax is crafted perfectly to horrify without the typical level of action which often ends a horror story. It reveals the mysteries that unfold throughout the novella with a moderate amount of dialogue, and ends abruptly but conclusively when Miles dies, apparently of fright, in the arms of the governess.