I Feel Uncomfortable

Reading The Stranger is making me feel incredibly uncomfortable. Initially, I was surprised at the seeming lack of emotion Meursault has when his mother dies. He never once explicitly states that he's upset about it. This could be Hemingway-esque, but it feels like it's different than Hemingway. When Jake is alone in his room crying at night, it's extremely clear that he's sad. However, as I'm reading The Stranger, I'm noticing that although it could be interpreted as a sort of scratching-the-iceberg-tip narrative, it's much more open to interpretation than The Sun Also Rises was.

One could argue that Meursault has experienced some sort of trauma (his mother's death, or something else?) that has influenced his personality and made him extremely passive. Passive is really the only way I can describe him. He is so passive that he seems indifferent to everything. He doesn't care where he lives, who he marries, or what his "friends" do no matter how awful it is. He does care about drinking good coffee and having nice swims with Marie and having a nice physical relationship with Marie. In Psychology we studied a theory of love that said to have the perfect relationship with someone, you need passion (lust), intimacy (very close friendship), and commitment. It seems that Meursault is only capable of passion and commitment. However, his commitment isn't really even entirely there; he only agrees to marry Marie because he doesn't see why he shouldn't, which doesn't seem like true commitment to me. It doesn't seem like he'll cheat on her though (he refuses to go to a "whorehouse" with Raymond, although he doesn't say why he doesn't want to), so he is committed to her in a very technical sense. It seems that all of Meursault's passions in life are related to physical pleasures: the good coffee makes him happy because it tastes good, swimming make him feel nice, and having sex with Marie feels good. I have yet to notice him mention any pleasures that aren't purely physical. Yes, these are simple pleasures, but they are all only physical. Even when he talks about missing his mother, he misses her because the apartment feels physically too large for him alone.

Sarah mentioned in class that Meursault could possibly be a psychopath. Now that I'm thinking about it, I think there is a lot of evidence to support this idea. We have no evidence that Meursault feels any emotions at all. He just goes with the flow and does whatever pleases him physically. He satisfies his instinctual needs (i.e. he thinks Marie is attractive so he wants to have sex with her so he does--a very Freudian example of fulfilling basic desires of our id), but he doesn't seem to have any emotional needs at all. This makes me feel so incredibly uncomfortable. I want to get to know Meursault better, but he's definitely not telling us something, and I need to know what that something is. Until I do, I can't think of any rationalization for his lack of emotion, and that's very creepy in a way (also, I don't see how Marie is in love with him and wants to marry him--he's made it clear he feels no love at all for her!).

Gregor and Cohn?

Perhaps the most frustrating thing about The Metamorphosis is that Gregor's family cannot understand him. As readers, we get to hear all of Gregor's thoughts and we know that he is still "human" in the sense that he still has his consciousness. Not only is he still human-like, he is overly compassionate toward his family. Even though they do not seem to care much for him and treat him absolutely awfully (both as a bug and a human, but even more so as a bug), he remains loyal and compassionate to them until the very end.

He actually reminds me a bit of a dog (or a puppy), which is weird because I was thinking of Cohn as a puppy as well...but Gregor is loyal to his family no matter how badly they mistreat him, in the same way dogs are. I've had two dogs growing up (right now I have just one) and the sad, but amazing, thing about dogs is that no matter how much you neglect them or yell at them or push them out of your way, they're still excited to see you when you walk in the door. Gregor reminds me of a dog because no matter what his family does, he loves them unconditionally. I don't think that this is a very human thing at all. People tend to hold grudges (at least I know I do), and don't forgive others easily when they are being obviously mistreated. Gregor goes against this typical human behavior (even BEFORE his transformation) and irrationally cares for his family no matter what.

So by some transitive property of logic or something, Gregor reminds me of Cohn. I wasn't aware at all of this comparison until I began writing this blog entry, but the puppy/dog comparison really does seem to fit. In the same way that Cohn chases after Brett no matter how much she stomps all over him, Gregor chases after and cares for his family no matter how much they stop all over and mistreat him. It is weird to think about Gregor as similar to Cohn, because I really disliked Cohn but I really like and sympathize with Gregor, but the comparison makes a lot of sense to me. It also provides me with more insight into Cohn's character, and makes me slightly more sympathetic to him. Of course both Cohn and Gregor are being irrationally clingy and loyal, but since I sympathize so much with Gregor, I can't help but sympathize a bit with Cohn now too.

Grete Samsa

Today in class we discussed Grete and her initial reaction to Gregor's transformation. We agreed that initially she seemed to be the most caring out of Gregor's entire family, but that she cared for him as if he was a pet. However, Grete's attitude toward Gregor quickly changes, and she stops cleaning his room, stops paying attention to his eating habits, and seems completely indifferent to his needs. This seems to me to be the place that his parents are in as well, though his parents do initially react in specific ways: his mother is devastated that her little boy has become a giant bug, and his father tries to be authoritative and tough, but both parents soon unhappily accept the fact that their son has been transformed and move on with their lives. Though it takes Grete longer to do this, she still does it.

In fact, Grete eventually becomes more alienated from Gregor than her parents do. It is she who suggests getting rid of him and letting him die: "It has go to. That's the only answer, Father. You just have to try and get rid of the idea that it's Gregor. Believing it for so long, that is our real misfortune. But how can it be Gregor? If it were Gregor, he would have realized long ago that it isn't possible for human beings to live with such a creature, and he would have gone away of his own free will." When I read this passage, I was astonished at Grete. Initially, I saw her as the most compassionate of all of Gregor's family, as she is the most cared for by Gregor. She has completely dehumanized Gregor, and it's also an indication of how dehumanized he was in her mind before the transformation, because she expects that her self-sacrificing brother would have left his family simply because he was in a predicament that is even more unfortunate for him than it is for his family. Because the insect has not allowed itself to die (ironically, that is what Gregor is doing at the moment), Grete says that he is not self-sacrificing enough and that they should abandon him--that they, who have taken advantage of Gregor for years, should abandon him now that he needs them!

To me, Grete is actually the least sympathetic character. Both Gregor's parents, although they do not take care of him initially the way Grete does, still believe that their son is there. His father, just before Grete's outburst, says, "If he could understand us, then maybe we could come to an agreement with him." Mr. Samsa clearly believes that Gregor is still there, he just doesn't realize that Gregor can understand them (and why should we expect him to realize that a giant insect can understand what his family is saying?). Mrs. Samsa can't help but see Gregor as her dear boy, even though he's an insect. She is the one who, although it is unnecessary, insists upon going in to see Gregor in the beginning. She is the one who, in an effort to avoid dehumanizing Gregor, argues with Grete about removing the furniture from his room. I actually sympathize most with Mrs. Samsa.

Of course, I see where Grete is coming from. It's hard to imagine how difficult it is for her to realize that inside this disgusting giant insect is her brother's consciousness. She does still love her brother. She wants to go on living and honoring Gregor's memory, but the way she sees it, it's impossible to live with Gregor anymore, because he is so dehumanized in her eyes that he's essentially just not there anymore. So I don't dislike Grete. I feel bad for her. I feel bad for her not only because she's lost her brother, but also because in the end, her parents are dehumanizing her in the same way as they did to Gregor. Someone mentioned in class that it sounded like she was being thought of as a farm animal, and I definitely agree. In the way that Gregor has lived and helped his parents as much as he could, but then died because dying helped them too, he reminds me of a pig that is raised to be slaughtered. I worry that the same thing will happen to Grete. She may not turn into a giant cockroach, but her parents are already planning to raise her so that she can benefit them, and if "slaughtering" her will also benefit them, I have no doubt that they will do that. But I feel so much worse for Gregor. He cares so much for his sister, and all he wants to do is show her compassion, and tell her about how he wanted to send her off to school and provide her with everything he could, but his sister cannot move past the fact that he is an insect and show him any affection at all. Even initially when she sees him as an insect, she feeds him as a duty, but is obviously completely repulsed at the same time. As time goes on, her repulsion increases to the point where she sees Gregor as having completely swallowed up by the body and mind of a huge, revolting insect.

Cohn Is A Puppy

As I was writing my response paper, I was surprised at how much Cohn reminds me of a puppy in The Sun Also Rises. In my paper, I mentioned that when Frances is giving him a piece of her mind, he just sits there and takes it like a puppy with its tail between its legs. I also see Cohn's behavior toward Brett as very puppy-like, but in a different way. With Brett, Cohn is an annoying puppy who is constantly begging for attention and trying to lick her face, whereas with Frances, he was more of a timid and shy puppy.

In both cases, Cohn's puppy-like behavior is not appreciated. Jake hates the way he takes Frances's criticism without sticking up for himself, and everybody hates the way Cohn follows Brett around as if he has possession of her. Now, I love dogs, but Cohn is loyal to Brett in a bad way. It is never really a compliment to tell someone they are like a dog, or that they follow someone around like a needy puppy, and Cohn is the perfect display for why being a "puppy" is not at all a good thing. Being a puppy is definitely not manly either; Cohn is not a big confident dog, although he may try to be. This exemplifies his puppy-like behavior, because in the same way kids look up to adults and try to be like them, puppies look up to older dogs and try to imitate them as well. Cohn's attempts at being loyal, friendly, and defensive of Brett are feeble, because he is like a puppy and is unable to be a dog, no matter how hard her tries.

The Purpose of Robert Cohn

As I was considering response paper topics, I thought seriously for a while about discussing our first impression of Brett and how that affects our perception of the story. Then, I realized that our first impression of another character--Robert Cohn--holds just as much, if not more, importance in The Sun Also Rises. Why does the story begin with Robert Cohn? Why does Jake tell us about him in the voice of a narrator who has far too much ironic distance from him? Initially, when I was reading, I expected this to be a story narrated by a sarcastic narrator about the life of Robert Cohn. It reminded me of A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man, from Coming of Age, because the narrator did seem to understand Cohn, but was also very obviously critical of and distant from Cohn.

When I began this book, I felt sorry for Cohn, because of the way Jake described him as being weak, dorky, dull, and extremely forgettable. He sounded like the kid who is socially awkward for some reason out of his control. However, as the book progressed, I quickly began to dislike Cohn with a passion. He was annoying, inexcusably oblivious to all social cues, and overall very easy to hate.

BUT the book still begins with him. The book begins as though it will be about his life. Cohn must have some important role other than just being a scapegoat in every situation. It is not unlikely that Jake is actually jealous of Cohn--in fact, it is very likely. Jake is clearly angry when Cohn runs off with Brett, and he seems to be much more pissed off with Cohn than with Brett. Even though Jake keeps his feelings from showing while the group is in Spain, he gets just as annoyed, if not more annoyed, with Cohn as everybody else does. Jake really hates Cohn, which is understandable because he loves Brett and Cohn is stupidly attempting to "take care of" her, but Jake doesn't hate Romero, or the Count, or even Mike, who has plans to marry Brett. Why do Jake's feelings of hatred and jealousy make themselves most apparent when concerning Cohn?

This definitely goes back to Jake's war injury. Jake sees Cohn as not being masculine enough, and therefore is extremely bitter that Cohn still has his "masculinity," whereas he does not. Brett's other suitors are definitely masculine enough; they are deserving of their masculinity. Jake cannot understand why fate has played such a cruel joke on him, and that joke is much worse when he much consider the fact that someone like Cohn, who does not act masculine, still technically has his masculinity. We also see this same dynamic when Jake reacts to Brett hanging out with the group of gay men, and feels unhappy because Brett is spending time with these men who he does not view as properly expressing their masculinity. He sees their technical possession of masculinity as wasted, because they do not act masculine enough to his standards.

What does masculinity mean to Jake anyway? Take Cohn for example: even though Cohn takes Jake's advice and basically tells Frances to go to hell, but then does not extend this "masculine" behavior as far as he should. For one thing, he tells her to go to hell in the most cowardly way possible. It's like he's really just hinting at her that he wants to get rid of her, rather than coming our and saying it, which is what would be the "masculine" thing to do. Furthermore, he allows Frances to verbally assault him in front of Jake, and just sits there and takes it like a puppy with its tail between its legs. Jake doesn't think Cohn is masculine because he knows that Cohn can't ever stand up for himself or be sure of himself in any situation. A huge part of masculinity for Jake is self-confidence, and that is an area in which Cohn is severely lacking.

It seems to me like Cohn serves as Jake's double in a way: while Cohn technically has his masculinity but doesn't act masculine, Jake acts masculine and knows what it means to be masculine, but doesn't technically have his masculinity. Jake is definitely jealous of Cohn, because he realizes that if he could have the one thing Cohn has, he would actually know how to use it. Jake thinks that if he technically had his masculinity, he would be able to woo Brett in the same way Cohn wishes he could woo her. This is the biggest indication of the similarities between Cohn and Jake. Both of them believe that they could (and should) be the man to finally woo and marry Brett, making an honest woman of her. Both of them are wrong. Cohn doesn't understand that Brett doesn't actually like him, because he is so incredibly socially awkward and foolish (in Jake's mind, this makes him less of a man), and Jake doesn't understand that he would probably never be with Brett, even if he hadn't suffered his war injury. Even though Brett loves Jake now, and wishes she could be with him, if Jake had his technical masculinity, he would lose his appeal of being something that Brett can never have. Their entire relationship is based around Jake's injury. Brett has always known him as injured Jake, and so for her, that is an essential part of who he is. It is what keeps their relationship so pure and longstanding. Because they can never completely have each other, they will always want each other, and will never be able to let go of each other. Of course, they have a deep emotional connection as well, but if they could have a sexual relationship, their emotional one would probably lose meaning, simply because of the way Brett is.

Jake is delusional to think that if he was uninjured, he and Brett could be happy together, in the same way that Cohn is delusional to think that he could have any sort of chance with Brett if only he could prove himself by fighting for her (literally, as he does with Romero). The truth is, the best Jake can hope for is to be Brett's closest and most important friend, and the best Cohn can hope for is to avoid infuriating Brett to the point that she stomps completely mercilessly all over his heart.

In Defense of Brett

When I was doing the reading last week, I made note of a section that I wanted to go back to and look at a bit closer: the conversation between Brett and Jake as they're walking outside just before Jake sets Brett up with Romero. The section I'll be referring to specifically begins on the bottom of page 186 when Jake says "Don't feel bad." It is just after Brett is rude to Cohn and Jake tells her he would act just as badly as Cohn does.

The most repeated phrase at the beginning of this passage is Brett's "I'm a goner." She tells Jake that she's crazy about Romero, and that "it" is tearing her up inside, and that she can't stop "it." The two "its" could refer to two different things, and the more obvious reading seems to be to assume that her "love" for Romero is tearing her up inside, and that she can't stop her flighty behavior in general. However, I read it as if the "its" both refer to her flighty behavior. Especially in light of later passages in this book, I see Brett as an extremely sympathetic character. When you look at the fact that she has tried a relationship with Jake and really does love him combined with the fact that it must hurt her just as much as it hurts Jake to decide that it won't work out, and then add in the bit about her difficult marriage to Lord Ashley, as Mike mentions to Jake; it's very clear that Lord Ashley has been abusive to her in their marriage. According to Mike, "Finally, when he got really bad, he used to tell her he'd kill her. Always slept with a loaded service revolver. Brett used to take the shells out when he'd gone to sleep. She hasn't had an absolutely happy life, Brett" (207).

In light of what we can infer about Brett's past, she is so much more sympathetic during her conversation with Jake. She tells Jake, "I've got to do something. I've got to do something I really want to do. I've lost my self-respect...I can't just stay tight all the time" (187). This implies that in the same way that Jake drinks to make himself feel better, Brett feels that she must run around with men and do what she "really [wants] to do." I imagine she feels as though she's lost her self-respect because she feels constricted by Lord Ashley, Cohn's possessiveness, and even her engagement to Mike. I also get the feeling that because she will never be able to do what she really wants to do, which is be with Jake, she must convince herself that she really wants to do other things and really wants to be with all these other men. This way she can feel less constricted and more independent, as though she has some sort of choice. With Jake, she doesn't feel that she has a choice. She has tried a relationship with him (although we don't know details) and decided it wouldn't work out. From this point, she has no choice at all in the matter. The decision has already been made. It makes perfect sense that her flightiness is a result of her need to have a choice and to get something that she really wants, because she can't have the one person she really wants.

Brett also realizes that there is a problem with her behavior. She says, "I don't say it's right. It is right though for me. God knows, I've never felt such a bitch" (188). She feels bad about her behavior. On some level, I'm sure she realizes it hurts Jake. On a more obvious level, she realizes that she's hurting every romantic interest she has. She does see her behavior as right for her though. This is hard for readers to understand and sympathize with because we see her through Jake's eyes (as Sarah and Shruti pointed out in their Panel Presentation). If we try our hardest to understand where Brett is coming from and what her life is been like, it is possible to understand why she engages in this behavior. It is analogous to Jake's drinking: both of them are unable to be with the person they love and so they cope with it by doing things to help them numb the pain of dealing with what they truly care about.

Similarly to the way that Brett is in the same boat as Jake, Jake shares Brett's feelings about their future together, and does not believe that they can be romantically involved. On the last page of the book, Jake seems even more pessimistic about their relationship than Brett does. When Brett says, "We could have had such a damned good time together" (251), she sounds entirely genuine to me, even to the point of believing it possible for a moment that she and Jake could still be together. When Jake says, "Isn't it pretty to think so?" (251), I get the sense that he's being much more cynical than Brett is, especially in light of his recent sarcasm toward her. It seems to me that a relationship is even less of a possibility in Jake's mind than it is in Brett's. Jake's last line seems to shoot down any possibility of the two of them having anything more than friendship in the future; at least that was how I read it.