[As the leaf-peeping begins in earnest (seriously, that’s a thing we do here in New England), a series on some iconic American images of the loss of
innocence that we so often associate with autumn. Add your thoughts on falls,
seasonal or symbolic, for a crowd-sourced post sure to be as popular as pumpkin
spice (if such a thing is possible)!]
On a novel with over-the-top moments that practically scream “loss of
innocence,” and the quieter scene that much more potently captures it.
To follow up the main idea from yesterday’s post, I experienced a very
different kind of teenage literary loss of innocence when I decided to read
Philip Roth’s Portnoy’s
Complaint (1969) for pleasure in early high school
(what can I say, I was a nerd and the son of an English professor to boot). I
can still quite distinctly remember arriving at Chapter 2, “Whacking Off,” and
encountering for the first time just exactly how far Roth is willing to go—how
obscene, how graphic, how flagrantly over-the-top. For reasons not quite known
to me, in my second semester at Fitchburg State I chose to put Portnoy on the syllabus of a
junior-level seminar on “Major American Authors of the 20th
Century,” and got to see 25 undergrads—24 women, by chance—having their own
such encounters with Roth, the novel, and that chapter in particular. Let’s
just say it wasn’t just me.
Roth’s late masterpiece American Pastoral (1997) is a far more realistic and restrained work than Portnoy, but nonetheless Roth includes a
couple of distinctly Roth-ian over-the-top scenes, both symbolizing quite
overtly his novel’s overall themes of the loss of innocence that accompanied the late 60s and early 70s in American culture and
society. In the first, the novel’s now middle-aged protagonist, Swede Levov,
meets with a seemingly innocent young women to try to learn the whereabouts of
his missing daughter Merry; the woman turns out instead to be a brazen and
cynical 60s radical, and she meets the Swede naked, graphically exposing and
probing herself in front of him (while daring him to, in essence, rape her). In
the second, the tour-de-force set piece with which Roth concludes the novel, a
family dinner full of shocking revelations and betrayals is set against the
backdrop of the televised Watergate hearings, and culminates with a crazy
drunken woman stabbing an elderly man in the head with her fork.
These scenes are as surprising and shocking as intended, and I suppose in
that way they make Roth’s point. But if he intends the theme of the loss of
innocence to be tragic as well as disturbing and comic (which those two scenes
are, respectively), then I would point a far quieter and to my mind far more potent
scene. In it, the Swede finally finds Merry and sees her again, for the only
time between her teenage disappearance (after she bombs a local post office in
political protest and kills an innocent bystander) and his own later death. He
asks a few questions, but mostly what he does is listen (to her stories of all
the horrors she has experienced in the years since the bombing) and observe
(her literally fading life as a converted Jainist, one for whom
any contact with the world is destructive and so self-deprivation and
-starvation comprises the only meaningful future). As a parent, I can imagine
nothing more shattering hearing and seeing such things from one of my
children—and in the Swede’s quiet horror and sadness, Roth captures a far more
powerful and chilling loss of innocence.
Next fall tomorrow,
Ben
PS. What do you think? Images of fall, or The Fall, you’d share?
No comments:
Post a Comment