The Self Fulfilling Prophecy of the Bully

Today during class we discussed one of the core themes of the chapter Maggot--bullying. The prompt we were given to spark thought went something along the lines of “what causes bullying, and what can a teacher possibly do to stop it”, and the lack of definitive answers to the problem was certainly telling of the complexity of the issue. My own answer was something akin to “Perhaps the solution to the problem lies more in the way that adults display themselves acting to their children.”Mr. Mitchell, conceding that perhaps there was some truth to that claim, and mentioned the placement of the Lord of the Flies as part of Jason’s first day back in school. It seems like Jason reading aloud from a book about the disastrous attempt by a stranded group of schoolboys to set up their own society couldn’t possibly be coincidence, and indeed having just finished the next chapter a short while ago I’m led to think that David Mitchell supports that view more heavily than explicitly stated.

Increasingly in the last few chapters we’ve started to see Jason’s awareness of the adults around him increase, and it hasn’t led to any sort of rejoicing on his part. It seems clear through his stories about various adults (mainly his parents) that Jason is becoming more and more convinced that even into adulthood people still have to put up with the same old crap that they did when they were twelve. To put it in shorter terms Jason seems to be learning that middle school never ends. During a time in life when Jason is going through a tremendous amount of bullying and harassment, it’s understandable that he would be duly depressed by this realization.

What’s even worse is that in the case of these 12 and 13 year old kids the idea that bullying is still around well into adulthood becomes a self fulfilling prophecy. What I mean by this is that a child’s perception of what is right and wrong is entirely based off what they see their role models doing--i.e. their parents. So when children see that even the adults support the harassment and belittlement of the few by the many, what else would they do but repeat it themselves? And thus the cycle of bullying is renewed in subsequent generations.

Up until the chapter titled, “Knife Grinder”, the extent to which we saw this kind of adult on adult bullying was somewhat more veiled, but with the introduction of the gypsies that changes. Suddenly Jason is exposed to a hateful and racist side of the adults in life that he’s never before had exposure to, and it certainly makes him uncomfortable. Hearing my parents talk about how another group of people needs to be taught the rules of civility and respectability--which apparently means learning to not eat hedgehog--would make me uncomfortable as well. As we’ve seen ample evidence of, however, not all of Jason’s peers are quite so caring or compassionate as Jason is, and it seems inevitable that such a fine display of tolerance and acceptance from their parents would rub off on their children.

In a novel that functions so heavily around the idea of structure, it seems to me that David Mitchell is no small way leaving a lesson here to be learned by its adults readers. Children see their world as an extension of their parents, and while adults may not necessarily see it that way their actions still directly affect their children’s perceptions of the world. The problem behind bullying is far more complex than “it’s just something that happens” (although it seems to be somehow ingrained into human nature) and I believe that looking at the place where a child first learns what’s right and what’s wrong might make sense.

Symbolically Keeping House

Occasionally when I'm feeling the crunch of a coming deadline for a critical response paper I utilize a somewhat unorthodox strategy for deciding what I will be writing about. The method which I employ in this situation is that I take my book, I grasp it firmly with both hands, and I let the pages slide past my thumb in the manner most are accustomed to opening to a desired page. The twist here, however, is that I close my eyes and count to five as the I thumb past pages. With Housekeeping I had to be a little bit more brief with my counting, due to the short length of the book, however my method didn't fail to deliver results.

The spot at which I ended up landing on was that of pages 154 and 155. While this is fairly late in the novel it turned out to actually be a fairly crucial one concerning Ruthie's development towards Sylvie. The adventure that 154 details part of is that of Ruthie and Sylvie's trip together to the abandoned house in the woods. Specifically, pages 154 and 155 are the points at which Ruthie first arrives at the abandoned and dilapidated old house, within which Ruthie spends the next many minutes in alone. Indeed for some unmentioned reason Sylvie excuses herself from Ruthie's company, and leaves Ruthie alone to her own thoughts in this abandoned and broken down house in the woods.

Immediately Ruthie's thoughts begin to roam, certainly in part helped by Sylvie's mentioning of her belief that there exists wild children who inhabited the forest. She's not quite as convinced of their existence as Sylvie, but still says, "I knew why Sylvie felt there were children in the woods. I felt so too, though I did not think so" (154). A cryptic sentence, perhaps, but what Ruthie means is that she believes she can sense other human beings in the area around here--can feel them--but she simultaneously realizes that she won't be able to make any kind of actual connection with them. This freaks Ruthie out sufficiently that she decides to go into the house and see what's up in there. So here we are with Ruthie standing alone inside this abandoned house, with the consciousnesses of the ethereal wild children taunting Ruthie just outside of the house. This reminds me of different part of the story in which Ruthie is also stranded out in the wilderness.

Towards the beginner of chapter seven Ruthie and Lucille both decide to take a fishing trip down to the lakefront, and the two of them end up having so much fun that they lose track of time and end up letting it get so dark that they’re forced to stay the night. Immediately Lucille starts to assemble to materials needed for them to create shelter from the environments, and they create a precarious little abode. To say the least Ruthie doesn’t hold an especially high opinion of how good a job their structure does with concern to actually providing them with cover--they’re interrupted by the arrival of wild animals which they have to throw rocks at to keep away. Still there are some important similarities and differences to note here.

In both scenarios Ruthie finds herself in a dilapidated structure, which supposedly is meant to shelter her from the environments, but in her makeshift hut by the beach there is a crucial difference; Lucille is still there with her. Compared to her experience on the island Ruthie has a companion with her to stay with her and keep away the loneliness. Ruthie anchors more around Lucille as her shelter than she does towards any physical shelter and even says, “Having a sister or a friend is like sitting at night in a lighted house. Those outside can watch if they want, but you need not see them” (154). So in a novel titled Housekeeping the main character defines her own version of housekeeping as having a strong relationship with another person.

Now for a person like Ruthie--who has stated that for her the best shelter is a good friend--it would seem that being left alone by Sylvie in this strange place would be the scariest thing she could think of. She was first stripped of the shelter from loneliness that Lucille as to her, and now Sylvie has left her too, at least for a while. During this time Ruthie is certainly disturbed by the thought of the wild children outside of the house, and seeks refuge inside the house for a while, but before long she decides that the house doesn’t keep away her sense of loneliness. Instead of continuing to seek out anything in the house Ruthie decides that she would prefer to wait outside for Sylvie to come back and be with her. Indeed this moment is very symbolic of Ruthie’s greater decision concerning her relationship with Sylvie--instead of remaining in the broken down house that is her relationship with Lucille she instead decides to forge a new relationship with Sylvie.

Personality in Creative Writing

In our latest installment of Black Swan Green, Solarium, we meet in my opinion one of the most remarkable and interesting secondary characters in any story we've read so far this year. Indeed I speak of the ever critical and opinionated elderly lady with whom  Jason spends the entirety of the chapter visiting--Madam Crommelynck. A woman who has--under the disguise of the Vicar--read the completed works of Jason Taylor, and who certainly doesn't mind offering her own critiques on not just his poems, but his very personality. For many this would be quite an intimidating process, (I, for one, will be avoiding all critical discussion with elderly Southeastern European  women) but for Jason it seems to present itself as a valuable growing experience. 

Jason and Madam Crommelynck discuss a wide variety of subjects: love, death, beauty, homosexuality, and all of them force Jason to really consider who he is at heart, but the section that really stuck with me was that about the idea that any good poem should be entirely truthful and candid with respect to the author. One of the revelations which Jason has while talking about his poetry is that his writing is the only place where he can say whatever he wishes to. Madam Crommelynck, however, points out that his poems lack in truthfulness simply because Jason refuses to own up to them. She certainly does speak a sparkling of wisdom--it's hard to imagine that a poet who refuses to identify with his poems actually believes in them--and Jason is forced to admit that he is in fact ashamed of his poems, and horribly frightened by the idea that others might be able to read his innermost thoughts, which he puts down in his poetry.

 Honestly I've gotta say I can certainly understand where Jason is coming from here--having your creative writing scrutinized by others is something that the self conscious writer would find terrifying. I speak from a certain amount of self-experience, meaning I've always avoided the act of creative writing for the very reason that I'm not comfortable with the idea that something I created might not hold up against the criticism of its readers (myself included). The idea that a truly good piece of creative writing has a certain inherent candidness in it--or that it would contain a piece of yourself, so to speak--is something that I agree with, and precisely for that reason I would say that creative writing is the most personally challenging of all the writing forms. To allow a piece of art, which stemmed entirely from your own imagination, to be criticized by others is to allow that fiber of your personality to be put on display and criticized as well. Jason puts it very well when he says "If you show someone something you've written, you give them a sharpened stake, lie down in your coffin and say, 'When you're ready'" (145). Allowing others to view--and thus criticize--your own written work is to not only to allow them to criticize the intellect behind your writing skill, but also the personality and following beliefs which formulated the piece. To me, as a writer who isn't especially comfortable with his creative writing, it seems a courageous act to provide your own material for others to read and critique. I think the day when I can comfortably permit others to read my writings I will pat myself on the back, but until then I have every bit of sympathy for Jason and his reluctance to claim his poetry. That being said I still totally agree with the ideas that Ms. Crommelynk has about what good poetry is and how it should be intimately connected with who you are as a person.