著者
宮永 隆一朗
出版者
日本アメリカ文学会
雑誌
アメリカ文学研究 (ISSN:03856100)
巻号頁・発行日
vol.46, pp.33-49, 2010-03-31 (Released:2017-09-29)

This essay examines the ideological and even libidinal investment in a child's innocence in Richard Powers's fourth novel Operation Wandering Soul (1993). Criticisms of Powers's novels have concentrated on their so-called "post-modernist" aesthetics and their political sensitivity, which might be regarded as a liberal humanist one. However, instead of following the common path of praising their politics without reserve, this essay demonstrates how his alleged humanism reflects the cultural obsession with the child's innocence in contemporary American society. Symptomatic of this cultural obsession is the recent heated debate on the "recovered memory syndrome." This epidemic discourse of the recovery of the memory of childhood sexual abuse articulates the problem of child molestation in the fixed triangulation of victimized child-monstrous pedophile-benevolent rescuer, or, "us." My argument follows James Kincaid's contention that such representation enables "us" to "produce and circulate the details of child molesting not only with impunity but with righteous fervor" (Kincaid 180). Published in the midst of the epidemic of "recovered memory" discourse, Soul incorporates and reflects this cultural enthusiasm for the innocent child. The text consists of three multi-layered narratives: the predominant realistic narrative of a relationship between the pediatrician Richard Kraft and the nurse Linda Espera; fragmentary narratives of "escaping children" interpolated into this; and the metafictional narrative of a novelist writing Kraft's narrative. Central to these narratives are repeated images of suffering children. The emphasis on their vulnerability and morality, which Kraft has failed to confront, is intended to evoke the readers' humanistic sympathy and responsibility towards them; hence the text closes by calling for the readers' intervention: "Someone donates their organs, all of them. You" (351). The text's humanist politics that have hitherto been praised, then, rely on the intense association of the images of the child with vulnerability and innocence. Such representation resonates with, and is symptomatic of, the ideological and libidinal investment in a child's innocence that has sustained the contemporary epidemic discourse of child molestation. Not surprisingly, Kraft's intimacy with the others is shadowed by the subtext of child/childhood sexual abuse. As the relationship with Kraft reminds Espera of the molestation she has suffered as a child, the emotional entanglement between them, and that between Kraft and his girl-patient Joy, is underpinned by a thorough unevenness of power; hence the line between their attachment to Kraft and the Stockholm syndrome, or the abductee's involuntary identification with the abductor, in sexual abuse is rather contingent. Moreover, Kraft's characterization itself obscures the boundary between pedophilic desire and "pure" affection towards children. Kraft is characterized by his misanthropy, which critics like Joseph Dewey have generalized as a "withdrawal" from reality. However, the fact that the rhetoric of his operation of Joy (273-4, 286) is explicitly sexualized seems to suggest that there lies behind his figure the subtext of pedophilia; in other words, that his misanthropy might be a symptom of his sexual orientation not towards adults but towards children. From the viewpoint of child/childhood sexual abuse, then, the text's ethics interconnected with its metafictional structure turns out to be problematic. The metanarrative of the novelist writing Kraft's narrative negates Kraft's "withdrawal" by relativizing him as a fictional character even within the framework of the text, in order to evoke the readers' responsibility. However,(View PDF for the rest of the abstract.)
著者
木原 健次
出版者
日本アメリカ文学会
雑誌
アメリカ文学研究 (ISSN:03856100)
巻号頁・発行日
vol.49, pp.1-18, 2013-03-31 (Released:2017-09-29)

John Steinbeck's The Grapes of Wrath (1939) is one of the representative American novels of the 1930s. Describing the predicament of migrant farmers challenged by the disaster of the Dust Bowl and deprived of their traditional ways of life, the novel is usually thought to epitomize the well-known images of America of the 1930s, such as the "Depression Era" or the "Red Thirties." Not only was it an age of socialist movement and labor dispute, but the 1930s also witnessed broad debates, as Eric Foner puts it, over "the redefinition of freedom" among politicians and intellectuals. These debates, inseparable from the foundation of the New Deal, were no less influential than those of the contemporary left-wingers. This paper clarifies the structure and esthetics of The Grapes of Wrath, one of the "canons" of the 1930s, by reading it against the background of the liberal discourse in the New Deal period. First, I analyze the arguments of Michael Szalay's New Deal Modernism and Sean McCann's Gumshoe America, both of which examine the literature of the 1930s in reference to the culture of liberalism. Through this analysis, I will argue the significance of the discourses on the relation between the whole and its parts, or the group and the individual, in the New Deal era. I then focus on Steinbeck's biological philosophy, integrating and epitomizing non-teleological thinking and the phalanx theory, which are reflected in both the theme and structure of the novel. The former refers to an attitude toward observing things as they are, as opposed to teleological thinking that seeks to explain things through causal nexuses. The latter theory assumes that a group is an entity different from the mere sum of its members as well as individuals being not the mere components of a group. Through interpreting Steinbeck's philosophy within the framework of the New Deal liberalism, I reveal how it is resonant with contemporary liberal discourse of the time. In conclusion, his ideas can be viewed as a response to the concerns for the New Deal governing theory. The following parts of the paper investigate The Grapes of Wrath with an emphasis on its modernist narrative structure composed of the alternating interchapters and narrative chapters. Steinbeck describes anonymous migrant farmers in the former, whereas the latter depicts the specific story of the Joads, as the exemplary migrant family. Preceding studies on the relation between the two sorts of chapters tend to see the Joads as a representative family, stressing the organic unity of the novel. Considering that the narrative chapters thoroughly portray the Joads as "real" rather than "typical" individualists, however, they can be regarded as opposed to the anonymous mass groups in the interchapters. My thesis concludes that the novel is structured over the dialectic between the value of individualism and the newly emerging significance of government, represented in the narrative chapters and interchapters, respectively. Ultimately, the ending scene functions precisely as a conclusion of the novel because it offers an imaginary unity between the opposing values of the New Deal.
著者
森本 光
出版者
日本アメリカ文学会
雑誌
アメリカ文学研究 (ISSN:03856100)
巻号頁・発行日
vol.53, pp.5-20, 2017 (Released:2018-05-18)
参考文献数
13

Edgar Allan Poe’s “Never Bet the Devil Your Head: A Tale with a Moral” was first published in Graham’s Magazine in September 1841 under the name “Never Bet Your Head: A Moral Tale.” This short story has been regarded as a literary satire that clearly attacked on the prevalence of transcendentalism and didacticism at the time. From the mid-thirties to the early forties, when Poe worked as a magazine editor and writer, the Transcendental Club held meetings for the northern intellectuals and writers, and the transcendentalist magazine The Dial began publication in 1840. Transcendentalism had much influence then, and the American literature of the time was guided by didacticism. Critics had a tendency to evaluate a literary work based on its moral, and readers demanded to read moral tales. Poe criticized the two currents of literature several times in his career; this short story can be thought as one of them.This view is supported by some references in the work to the transcendentalist magazine The Dial and by Poe ostensibly mentioning the transcendentalist Emerson by name. However, this is not enough to claim the work to be a literary satire with the singular purpose of criticizing prominent figures and schools of thought; the short story also contains some strange descriptions that are not explicable in terms of any satirical aims, and Poe himself claimed in a letter that it was not his design to ridicule any targets in particular. What, then, is the chief aim of this work? The fact that Poe called this short story an “Extravaganza” gives us a hint; an extravaganza is a large, extravagant show or spectacle in general, but in the U. S. in the early 19th century, it denoted a short skit particularly in the form of the minstrel show. The minstrel show was a popular American form of entertainment with performers in blackface who would dance, sing, and play the fool. It is possible that Poe made use of this piece of contemporary popular culture in his writing; in fact, this short story and the minstrel show have some characteristics in common, for example, the protagonist’s blackened face, his funny foolish gestures, and his habit of talking about bets. Therefore, this paper aims to analyze “Never Bet the Devil Your Head” by examining several commonalities between it and the minstrel show, and to make it clear how Poe adapted this form of contemporary popular theater for his original short story.
著者
田島 優子
出版者
日本アメリカ文学会
雑誌
アメリカ文学研究 (ISSN:03856100)
巻号頁・発行日
no.51, pp.23-38, 2015-03-31

In Nathaniel Hawthorne's The Marble Faun, Hilda is repeatedly described as a "dove" and an "angel," in contrast to the "morbidity" of such things as the dust, poison, and unwholesomeness that fill the scenes set in Rome. Miriam and Donatello, who commit murder, are, in this context, described as if they have contracted a disease as a result of their sin. For this reason, Hilda, who wants to preserve her own purity, has to obstinately reject them, for which readers have not accepted her as a flexible and humanized character. It may be that the author had a critical view of this fastidious character due to his wife, who was one of the models for Hilda. Sophia Hawthorne subscribed to the Victorian values of her time, which compelled her to delete "inappropriate" expressions from her husband's manuscript after his death. However, Hilda's personality should not be reduced to this superficial reading. In the latter part of the narrative, Hilda gradually comes to accept the fact that she is trying to avoid what is unhealthy and sinful because she is, in truth, attracted to it. And so, she comes to realize that evil brings a sorrowful beauty to the arts. Like Donatello, Hilda also experiences the "Fortunate Fall," and is humanized, thereby becoming a suitable guide for Kenyon, who eagerly needs her to come back to their country. The darkness of Rome, its "disease" and "unwholesomeness," is, in this narrative, necessary for artists to create original works. As Hawthorne mentions in the preface, Italy was valuable in that it provided authors with a suitable environment for creating literary works. This contrasts with America, which has "no shadow, no antiquity, no mystery, no picturesque and gloomy wrong." By accepting the darkness of Rome, which she had previously rejected, we may say that Hilda acquires the ability to become an eminent artist in her own country.
著者
宮永 隆一朗
出版者
日本アメリカ文学会
雑誌
アメリカ文学研究 (ISSN:03856100)
巻号頁・発行日
no.46, pp.33-49, 2010-03-31

This essay examines the ideological and even libidinal investment in a child's innocence in Richard Powers's fourth novel Operation Wandering Soul (1993). Criticisms of Powers's novels have concentrated on their so-called "post-modernist" aesthetics and their political sensitivity, which might be regarded as a liberal humanist one. However, instead of following the common path of praising their politics without reserve, this essay demonstrates how his alleged humanism reflects the cultural obsession with the child's innocence in contemporary American society. Symptomatic of this cultural obsession is the recent heated debate on the "recovered memory syndrome." This epidemic discourse of the recovery of the memory of childhood sexual abuse articulates the problem of child molestation in the fixed triangulation of victimized child-monstrous pedophile-benevolent rescuer, or, "us." My argument follows James Kincaid's contention that such representation enables "us" to "produce and circulate the details of child molesting not only with impunity but with righteous fervor" (Kincaid 180). Published in the midst of the epidemic of "recovered memory" discourse, Soul incorporates and reflects this cultural enthusiasm for the innocent child. The text consists of three multi-layered narratives: the predominant realistic narrative of a relationship between the pediatrician Richard Kraft and the nurse Linda Espera; fragmentary narratives of "escaping children" interpolated into this; and the metafictional narrative of a novelist writing Kraft's narrative. Central to these narratives are repeated images of suffering children. The emphasis on their vulnerability and morality, which Kraft has failed to confront, is intended to evoke the readers' humanistic sympathy and responsibility towards them; hence the text closes by calling for the readers' intervention: "Someone donates their organs, all of them. You" (351). The text's humanist politics that have hitherto been praised, then, rely on the intense association of the images of the child with vulnerability and innocence. Such representation resonates with, and is symptomatic of, the ideological and libidinal investment in a child's innocence that has sustained the contemporary epidemic discourse of child molestation. Not surprisingly, Kraft's intimacy with the others is shadowed by the subtext of child/childhood sexual abuse. As the relationship with Kraft reminds Espera of the molestation she has suffered as a child, the emotional entanglement between them, and that between Kraft and his girl-patient Joy, is underpinned by a thorough unevenness of power; hence the line between their attachment to Kraft and the Stockholm syndrome, or the abductee's involuntary identification with the abductor, in sexual abuse is rather contingent. Moreover, Kraft's characterization itself obscures the boundary between pedophilic desire and "pure" affection towards children. Kraft is characterized by his misanthropy, which critics like Joseph Dewey have generalized as a "withdrawal" from reality. However, the fact that the rhetoric of his operation of Joy (273-4, 286) is explicitly sexualized seems to suggest that there lies behind his figure the subtext of pedophilia; in other words, that his misanthropy might be a symptom of his sexual orientation not towards adults but towards children. From the viewpoint of child/childhood sexual abuse, then, the text's ethics interconnected with its metafictional structure turns out to be problematic. The metanarrative of the novelist writing Kraft's narrative negates Kraft's "withdrawal" by relativizing him as a fictional character even within the framework of the text, in order to evoke the readers' responsibility. However, with the subtext of child sexual abuse in mind, this metafictional fabrication works to provide the readers, or "us," with dual pleasures: while bestowing a certain eroticism on the child, it allows "us" a moral, if hypocritical, pleasure in condemning the sexualization of the child. As I have observed so far, Powers's text not only incorporates the hegemonic discourse of the child's innocence in itself, it also unexpectedly exposes the way the interaction between the text and "us" the readers is founded on our own obsession with the child's innocence, or our "child-loving" ideology.