Throughout Sag Harbor the main character, Benji, usually doesn’t portray his
teenagehood as being a particularly happy time in his life. Older Benji—or Ben,
maybe—certainly describes himself on the whole as having been an extremely
awkward person. While I actually like Benji quite a lot, and don’t think him an
especially awkward person in reality, I still understand that dynamic between
older and younger self pretty well. This being said, there is one scene in
which we see dynamic absent from the narrative.
In Breathing Tips of Great American Beat Boxers a main theme
throughout the chapter is Benji’s efforts to win himself admittance into a
local nightclub, where a famous musical group, U.T.F.O, would be playing.
Benji’s friends are also trying to get in, and have their own plan for how to
do so, but aren’t letting Benjie in on it. As a result Benji has to try and
fight his own way in, but in the end it proves not to be a problem at all. The
bouncer lets them in without any trouble, and suddenly Benji finds himself amidst
the very diverse crowd, which makes up the occupants of the Bayside Night Club.
At first, he and NP are both pretty
nervous about their surroundings. They’re quite aware of how young they look
and that they shouldn’t even be allowed there. Fairly quickly though, they
start to realize that they haven’t really got anything to worry about.
No one looked at me. I was one of
them on the dance floor and they were one of me. I jostled, was jostled in
turn, collision as communication: I am here, we’re here together. The bass
bounced my shirt on my chest. My elbow mashed the rib cage of this
forty-something white lady in a green metallic jumpsuit and when I turned to
apologize, she simply smiled and continued swaying to the music. (218)
For once we see Benji somewhere
that he really doesn’t feel self conscious about himself at all. Throughout the
entire novel we inhabit the mind of this kid who experiences a fair bit of
social anxiety, and seems to always be quite aware of where he fits in to the social
hierarchy. He feels he’s always been at the bottom, but in this instance we
don’t see any of that. Instead he feels the collective identity of being part
of a dancing crowd that really allows him to loosen up and just have fun
without being afraid of what anybody else thinks.
I think almost everyone is familiar
with what this dynamic to some degree, and for me it was a really nice section
to read, where I can recognize just what the happiness that Benji is feeling is
like. He really does seem to be quite happy and at peace with himself, and
Whitehead sets up anticipation for what’s going to come next very well. This is
where he leaves it, however. We never actually find out what the show is like,
all we get is Ben (the older narrator) asking us “Can you feel it? “ right
before the chapter ends.
Personally I’m kind of glad that
this is how the chapter ends. The fact that in this one instance we’re
addressed in the present tense gives us a sense that this is one of few
feelings and experiences from his adolescence that Ben still loves, even as a
grown man. Even more importantly though, is what his leaving us hanging does to
enhance the feeling. The great thing about literature as an art form is the way
in which it allows our imaginations to fill in all the scenarios. A descriptive
writer helps us better craft a story in our heads, but ultimately it comes down
to you to decide what the story is like. His cliffhanger of “can you feel it?”
leaves us only with a sweet sense of anticipation of what’s to come that allows
us to let our imaginations roam, which for me is a much more enjoyable result
than if he had tried to use words to describe what it was like.
It's cool that "can you feel it?" actually works this way for you. It certainly does for me: as I said in class, the scenario he's constructing, that moment of anticipation before an eagerly expected live show is just about to begin, that buzz in the crowd, that intangible energy--he taps into my own personal memories with the second-person question.
ReplyDeleteBut it could just as easily have been read as an expression of despair (like, if Marlowe from _Heart of Darkness_ were narrating _Sag Harbor_): "Can my mere words transport you to this place, this feeling? Do you even know what I'm talking about?" For most readers, though, this moment doesn't work like this. Whitehead invites us to stand on the crowded floor along with Benji and NP; for us, too, "it's about to begin." And as you describe, we're left to fill in the blank at the end of the page with our own feelings and memories.
I love that whole section. It's maybe my favorite in the novel.
Well, as I tried to indicate, I think part of the reason that it does work this way is due to the manner in which Whitehead sets it up. If he had just left it at them getting into the club and then asked "Can you feel it?" I think it would have been a bit of a let down. Instead he gives us enough of a description to give us a sense of how Benji is feeling, but it also leaves us thirsting for more, and when he pulls that away, that's where we're left with only our own imaginations to fill in what the rest of the night is like.
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