What is Lost, What is Gained
My favorite part of the craft of this book was the repeating motif of "lost." The author establishes this motif on literally the first page, communicating to the reader that this will be an important point later. She writes that she "wept for the lost bottles" (1), then quickly moves on to talk about sadness. Her description of her own confusion about the source of this sadness will set up the structure for the rest of the memoir, as we follow her journey in identifying this source and ultimately grieving the sadness.
Though the writer wisely dives deep into descriptions of her stroke and initial reactions, that thread of "lost-ness" gives the reader an anchor to touch back to throughout this piece of the memoir. The author's descriptions of being confused, scared, dissociated, and angry are immediate and visceral. Understanding that this is all part of a greater journey helps provide context so that we as readers can follow each of these emotional reactions and feel them intensely with the narrator without needing to back away for fear of becoming fully absorbed in the horror that she feels. We know, as she does now, that these emotions were part of a greater journey. We know, because she does, that this is an integral part of her healing. We have an inkling therefore already of the depth of sorrow Christine has endured, and the difficulty she will face in completing her journey--and that she must. This motif helps us be present for Christine's realization that "the mind, without the brain, will finally have to learn to forgive the body" (75). Because this statement is set up so well, we can accept it intellectually as well as emotionally even though it comes quite early in the book.
The theme of loss, of what is lost and whether it must stay that way, moves deeper and deeper into Christine's psyche. She balances a blow-by-blow description of her recovery process with remarks that point at her growth throughout. Although her description of being unable to control her emotional outbursts in the wake of the stroke makes clear how panicked she was then, we can also be witness to her relief at finally being able to express what she was truly feeling. Although we can sympathize with Adam as her caregiver in these moments, we also have built an essential trust in her as narrator such that our deeper sympathy lies with her. This is a particularly savvy bit of writing, because this tactic acknowledges that many of us readers might have been obligated to play caregiver or spouses or parents. Her strategic writing enables us to identify with her and to fully accept the validity of her experience at face value without question, yet not abdicate the integrity of our own.
By the time Christine began to discuss her childhood memories, I was on edge with wanting more information about that period of her life. Christine pulled out several specific, very visceral childhood memories that effectively gave information about the basic patterns she had experienced. These descriptions followed the pattern of actual memories, beginning with sensory images and her body and actions in these images. As readers, we could easily extrapolate from these memories how she became lost, and what, precisely, was lost about her. Essentially, she filled in the dark points on the map of herself so that we, and she herself, could recognize where on the map she had been, and where she was during her recovery from her stroke, and where she wanted to go.
Christine wrote, "PTSD, or post-traumatic stress disorder, is a result of avoidance" (234). It would be easy, therefore, to conclude that this book is about healing from PTSD, about ceasing to avoid memories of the past. However, Christine also writes about letting her body carry her through her post-partum depression and divorce because she could not rely on her mind and heart for how hurt they were. I think the "about", the deeper theme and possibly even moral that Christine found, has more to do with her statement that "this was how the stroke changed my heart. My heart now had no hole" (157). The tradeoff for that, temporary or permanent, was the loss of part of her short-term memory in exchange for space needed to heal her implicit memory, her ancestral and trauma memories. She never says that this was worth it or gives a pat answer, but instead makes it clear that the circumstance of her stroke essentially forced her to face the necessity of this healing--or the possibility of death of self, if not death of body. So Christine's sense of self was taken from her, along with her sense of memory--tied to intellectual success and fatherly approval and even safety from another war, safety within the forced assimilation dictated by American culture. In exchange, she was no longer lost to herself.
-Ariadne Wolf
Though the writer wisely dives deep into descriptions of her stroke and initial reactions, that thread of "lost-ness" gives the reader an anchor to touch back to throughout this piece of the memoir. The author's descriptions of being confused, scared, dissociated, and angry are immediate and visceral. Understanding that this is all part of a greater journey helps provide context so that we as readers can follow each of these emotional reactions and feel them intensely with the narrator without needing to back away for fear of becoming fully absorbed in the horror that she feels. We know, as she does now, that these emotions were part of a greater journey. We know, because she does, that this is an integral part of her healing. We have an inkling therefore already of the depth of sorrow Christine has endured, and the difficulty she will face in completing her journey--and that she must. This motif helps us be present for Christine's realization that "the mind, without the brain, will finally have to learn to forgive the body" (75). Because this statement is set up so well, we can accept it intellectually as well as emotionally even though it comes quite early in the book.
The theme of loss, of what is lost and whether it must stay that way, moves deeper and deeper into Christine's psyche. She balances a blow-by-blow description of her recovery process with remarks that point at her growth throughout. Although her description of being unable to control her emotional outbursts in the wake of the stroke makes clear how panicked she was then, we can also be witness to her relief at finally being able to express what she was truly feeling. Although we can sympathize with Adam as her caregiver in these moments, we also have built an essential trust in her as narrator such that our deeper sympathy lies with her. This is a particularly savvy bit of writing, because this tactic acknowledges that many of us readers might have been obligated to play caregiver or spouses or parents. Her strategic writing enables us to identify with her and to fully accept the validity of her experience at face value without question, yet not abdicate the integrity of our own.
By the time Christine began to discuss her childhood memories, I was on edge with wanting more information about that period of her life. Christine pulled out several specific, very visceral childhood memories that effectively gave information about the basic patterns she had experienced. These descriptions followed the pattern of actual memories, beginning with sensory images and her body and actions in these images. As readers, we could easily extrapolate from these memories how she became lost, and what, precisely, was lost about her. Essentially, she filled in the dark points on the map of herself so that we, and she herself, could recognize where on the map she had been, and where she was during her recovery from her stroke, and where she wanted to go.
Christine wrote, "PTSD, or post-traumatic stress disorder, is a result of avoidance" (234). It would be easy, therefore, to conclude that this book is about healing from PTSD, about ceasing to avoid memories of the past. However, Christine also writes about letting her body carry her through her post-partum depression and divorce because she could not rely on her mind and heart for how hurt they were. I think the "about", the deeper theme and possibly even moral that Christine found, has more to do with her statement that "this was how the stroke changed my heart. My heart now had no hole" (157). The tradeoff for that, temporary or permanent, was the loss of part of her short-term memory in exchange for space needed to heal her implicit memory, her ancestral and trauma memories. She never says that this was worth it or gives a pat answer, but instead makes it clear that the circumstance of her stroke essentially forced her to face the necessity of this healing--or the possibility of death of self, if not death of body. So Christine's sense of self was taken from her, along with her sense of memory--tied to intellectual success and fatherly approval and even safety from another war, safety within the forced assimilation dictated by American culture. In exchange, she was no longer lost to herself.
-Ariadne Wolf
Ariadne,
ReplyDeleteI really appreciated how you thought about how Christine wrote about Adam. That was a part of the book that really stood out to me. Although Christine is telling the story post-divorce, she acknowledges how hard Adam's role was, the sacrifices he made, and all of the things he tried to do right. There is occasionally an undertone of bitterness when she discusses life before the stroke and how it revolved around Adam and his goals and aspirations, but she doesn't try to shade the narrative into something its not. She is extremely honest about Adam's role and that's something I rarely see in narratives about couples that undergo divorce, including real life narratives from the people in my life. It hadn't occurred to me that Christine's honesty may have stemmed from acknowledging that many of her readers may have played caretaker to family members and would hold sympathy for Adam. I do think she did a good job avoiding discussing Adam and their relationship for the most part, especially holding it off until the end, when our sympathies were firmly established with her. You brought up a lot of interesting things to think about!
Thanks,
Anna
Ariadne,
ReplyDeleteI enjoyed your interpretation of Christine's writing, especially your focus of her childhood memories. The repeating image of Christine being locked in in the bathroom stall was very powerful to me. At first I was confused by the repetition of the incident but then I realize that each time she retold it, there was more detail added and a new interpretation gained. These ranged from her need to use her words, not just lash out in frustration, to learning to ask for help from others no matter how challenging it maybe to admit vulnerability, to ultimately, sometimes you get precisely what you ask for, as the only English that she could speak was, "Where is the bathroom?" which brought to mind the old adage , "Be careful what you ask for, you just might get it!"
As a parent of a preschooler, I frequently remind myself that my message can get lost in my tone. She will become overwhelmed by my emotion if I lose my cool and she will be unable to hear my words or their intentions...she will only remember how I made her feel and rarely will be able to tell you any of the specific details. So I thought that the way her brain slowly return the "lost" messages or contextual meanings of the memories was fascinating, although as a reader I admit sometimes I felt a little lost or disconnected while attempting to follow this nonlinear narrative.
thank you
lora
Ariadne,
ReplyDeleteI'm kind of thrown aback by your profound analysis of the novel. I believe everyone did a wonderful job with their responses but what I especially admire about yours is you really broke down the underlying theme of the novel without pointing out the obvious. On the base level, the novel is clearly a story of recovery from both physical and emotional trauma. However, it is also, as you pointed out, a story of being lost. This motif is so apparent, once you mention it, but was more like an undercurrent before, felt but not noticed. Your response really shed new light on the novel for me.
-Erin
i'm excited by the ideas and questions you had about underlying narrative: we will talk about that in class!
ReplyDeletee