The Enduring Chill - Take Two

Wow, what an appropriate day to be reading something called "The Enduring Chill" !

I am curious about the whole notion of Buddhism in this story.  (I don't think we were able to talk about this the first go around, and I apologize if we did)

This is the first instance I can remember of O'Connor talking about a religion other than Christianity.  Sure, she was Catholic, and we know she had a lot to say about Christian religions other than Catholicism, but what about religions other than Christianity?  Can we tell anything about O'Connor's views through the words of her characters and her narrative voice, and is it wrong to even try?

Also, how does this Asian religion tie in to the big city?  Is O'Connor making a statement on just how foreign and alienating the big city is by its incorporation of foreign Eastern religions?

To sister Mariella Gable

O'connor's letter to Sister Mariella Gable on page 1182 discusses her catholic beliefs, as well as her feelings towards protestants and the protestant characters she writes. In particular she talks about The Violent Bear it Away and the Tarwaters. Interesting stuff

The Violent Bear it Away, Chs III-VII

Something I noticed when I started to read chapter three was the name "Habakkuk." I did not know who this was and how this was significant , so I decided to Google it, and this is a brief synopsis of what I found in a nutshell: Habakkuk (his name means "wrestle" or "embrace") was a prophet in 620 B.C. and wrestled with the issue of if God is good than why is there evil in the world. According to bible.org (love that web address!), the story of Habakkuk is supposed to teach us that, "1)God sometimes seems to be inactive, but He is involved, 2)God is holy, 3)God hears and answers prayers, 4)God sometimes gives unexpected to our prayers, 5)God is just and God is good, 6)The righteous live by faith and faithfulness."

Unfortunately, since I did not know who Habakkuk was, I had to look this up online. Maybe someone has more to add to this explanation?

Anyway, this brought up what we were talking about in class about what is a prophet? I do not have a good answer for this yet, but I thought I might start working through one. When I hear the word "prophet" I usually think of someone that tries to spread the word of God and interpret what God means. With this story, I started thinking about which characters are considered prophets (I think they all three could be considered prophets, or consider themselves to be prophets). All three are trying to interpret the word of God, and trying to spread the word of God and baptize each other.

Another thing that I think is interesting that goes along with religion is how the characters in this story all seem to be making religion their own. This got me thinking down a really philosophical path of how much is religion made up of what we choose to believe and how is faith formed by what we believe? In this story, the characters seem to be making a religion all their own and they seem to think that they are the ones that are right.

Here is the website I used to look up Habakkuk:
http://www.bible.org/page.php?page_id=975

The stranger: voice of God or the devil?

It was hard to follow a lot of the parts of this story so far, and I started to get really confused (yet more interested) when the strangers voice comes in to play. It comes in slowly and gradually and seems to sneak up on you. At first I thought he was referring to his own voice sounding like a strangers (which I think it is) but then it started to take a life of its own.

I started to think about old Tarwater (again, I love the way she names people!) and how he was telling his young apprentice that God would come to him and tell him what he is supposed to do. Is the "stranger's" voice the voice of God? It seems a little mischievous though, so maybe it could be the devil? I remember my mom telling me when I was little how her mother told her about a man that came up to the house selling Bibles but the WAY he was selling them made her believe he was the devil in disguise. It's kind of like the serpent leading him astray...

I hope the voice comes up again, and we can find more about it.

"Good Country People" vs. "The Life You Save May Be Your Own"

Or rather, Tom T. Shiftlet versus Manley Pointer. These two characters both appear to women living without men, though the impressions of men remain. As Michelle pointed out, "The two women in this story were referred to as Mrs. the whole way through, even though we do not see their husbands in this story. Because they are referred to as Mrs. they become identified by their marriage and by their husbands instead of by their own identities and their first names." Further, Glynese has suitors, and Carramae, "only fifteen but already married and pregnant," has a husband and father somewhere, though just where is left to the reader's imagination (264). Compare this to "The Life You Save," where the two Lucynells live with the phantom of their husband/father in the spectre of the car. The elder Lucynell shares, "That car ain't run in fifteen year . . . The day my husband died, it quit running." (173)

As the only male characters in the story, a lot can be interpreted about Pointer and Shiftlet's roles in these women's lives. Shiftlet's repair of the car is a feat of manliness: "With a volley of blasts it emerged from the shed . . . Mr. Shiftlet was in the driver's seat, sitting very erect." (178) It's a moment of male potency, both in the field of autorepair (traditionally masculine) and Shiftlet's posture. His role as husband to Lucynell the younger after their marriage is thereby conflated with his role as father to her, and husband to Lucynell the elder, the repair of the car being rather Elektric.

Pointer's role to the Hopewells seems far less Greek. To Mrs. Hopewell, he is an annoyance. She says, "'[H]e bored me to death but he was so sincere and genuine I couldn't be rude to him.'" (274) But to the younger Hopewell, Hulga/Joy, he is some kind of romantic hope. So excited for their picnic, she "didn't take anything to eat," and spruces herself up by putting "some Vapex on the collar of [her shirt] since she did not own any perfume" (276-77). Pointer's role as a romantic interest to Hulga/Joy seems to be more than similar with the misguided pairing of Shiftlet and the Lucynells, each female party seeing in this new male an opportunity and being terribly mistaken.

Because Pointer's theft of Hulga/Joy's leg puzzles me, I'd like at this time to continue in an analysis of Shiftlet - specifically as a kind of perversion of the Christ figure. Lucynell the elder's insistence on Shiftlet's marriage to her daughter purports him to be, in her eyes, some kind of savior - and who could blame her for thinking so? He is, after all and in his own words, a carpenter (175), famously the vocation of Jesus. And, before even introducing himself, Shiftlet turns to face the sunset: "He swung both his whole and his short arm up slowly so that they indicated an expanse of sky and his figure formed a crooked cross." (173) Shiftlet is put on the cross before word one to Lucynell! That notion of the cross being crooked is a masterwork of foreshadowing, as Lucynell puts all her egg's in Shiftlet's basket only to have her salvation ruined beyond recognition. Shiftlet as the crooked Christ figure becomes complete when he perverts Luke 23:34. "Then said Jesus, Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do." Compare this to Shiftlet's line at the end of the story, "'Oh Lord! . . . Break forth and wash the slime from this earth!'" (183) Shiftlet's prayer is antithetical to Jesus' plea, one requesting the forgiveness of sinners, and the other the purging of them. The irony, of course, lies in it beginning to rain on Shiftlet. Water is a cleansing force, and Shiftlet, perhaps realizing that the slime that needs washing may be himself, "race[s] the galloping shower into Mobile." (183)

Yet, Shiftlet as the crooked Christ figure does not necessitate Pointer as all that. Where one could draw a comparison between Jesus healing the sick and Pointer robbing the maimed, calling the Bible salesman any kind of Jesus is probably giving him too much credit. Certainly Hulga/Joy sees him as some kind of salvation, but not in a Christian sense. After all, she sees herself as already saved - "'We are all damned,' she said, 'but some of us have taken off our blindfolds and see that there's nothing to see. It's a kind of salvation.'" (280) Instead of pat Christian saving, Hulga/Joy sees Pointer as a kind of avenue to intimacy, to experiencing what about life is enjoyable before her prophesied premature death. In imagining her seduction of Pointer, she fantasizes "that she took his remorse in hand and changed it into a deeper understanding of life," (276) the irony here lying in Hulga/Joy's own virginity - "[s]he had never been kissed before and she was pleased to discover that it was an unexceptional experience" (278) - and so this foray into sexuality could lead to a deeper understanding of life for her.

It is too bad that Pointer is no full-blown Christ figure, because Hulga/Joy makes no secret of her atheism (278). (Neither does her mother, 270.) It could have lessened the ache of being forsaken in that hayloft, cut off and alone. But in my mind, still, Pointer and Shiftlet are two very like peas - both are strange men with ulterior motives who crash a girls-only party. What is O'Connor saying about men in a world of women? On one level she says that they can't be trusted, that they are deceptive and ultimately no good. Are these stories an advocation of nunnery - of cloistering yourself from that foul sex - or, in fact, the opposite? Of exposing yourself to men, and becoming the better for it? Of course we have no way of knowing if Hulga/Joy makes the best of this situation, if she learns from it. She can be awfully dense for a genius.

And, a tad off-topic, I think O'Connor's choice to have Mr. Paradise fail to save Bevel and, one page later, title a story "The Life You Save May Be Your Own" just excellent.

An "intellectual's" POV

This is kind of the first story where we get most of the story through the college educated character. I was convinced that this would be entirely through Mrs. Hopewell, but it does this very subtle shift to Hulga's story. I actually thought that Mrs. Freeman was going to be a major character, rather than a side character, and act kind of like Mrs. Shortley in The DP. This was brought up in the last class (I think Dana) that many of the evil characters in O'Connor's stories are overweight women. And the college educated, big girl was crazy. Hulga still fits the role of the bitter, rude intellectual that is going no where in life, but she still seems down to Earth a bit more (maybe because we see her side more?). Her wooden leg adds extra sympathy to her character, but makes her bitter and has frozen her in time to be a little girl.

The scene in the barn with Pointer had me very tense the entire time. I honestly thought he was going to rape her. Mainly because he pulled out the box that said "only to be used in prevention of disease" (i.e., condoms). When he finally took her leg, I actually let out a nervous laugh. Who would do something like that? Where is his pleasure in stealing women's artificial body parts? Obviously, it's some form of control, as is highlighted by the condoms and rape insinuation. But it's weird. The dynamic between religion and the characters in this story is much different from the others. He pushes his way into their home by making them at ease by being a good Christian, yet he ACTUALLY wins over the only Atheist in the house! Is it because he is simple? Hulga couldn't have really believed in him when he said he liked to have "serious thoughts." College graduates don't talk like that, from any time period. So what was his charm? Maybe she was happy that someone was attracted to her despite all her physical problems. Maybe it was their common condition. Maybe she thought she could manipulate him. That's how I saw it anyway. She really wanted to manipulate him into putting down the Bible and pick up another book but instead she got a lesson of her own. Even though she had all this higher learning, it still didn't erase all the stereotypes she had in her mind. She really wasn't any better or smarter than the country folk.

The D.P. has made me worry

This is I guess less about the literary aspects of The Displaced Person but rather my initial reactions to it while and after reading it. First of all, I felt very tense the entire time reading the story. I cannot remember feeling that way about reading her other stories. Perhaps it was because she spent SO much time leading up to every incident that happened, it seemed more suspenseful. The constant griping about the immigrant from Poland made me uneasy. It also made me feel incredibly sad that almost nothing has changed as time has gone passed. No, we aren't really complaining about the Poles taking our jobs, but we have been complaining. Especially the language issue. I cannot help but remember all the times I've heard in conversation that people get irritated because an immigrant will not learn the English language. Honestly, I see both sides, and I've decided to remain completely neutral about this issue until absolutely forced to make a decision.

This fear of the unknown and "exotic" has pretty much been a constant theme in all our history. I feel like the peacock in the story kind of represented the Guizac family. They are such beautiful creatures, but all except for the priest, everyone seems annoyed by them and just put up with them (another mouth to feed). A part of me feels really guilty for not knowing. Why? It's part of tolerance. I feel like I'm a pretty accepting person when it comes to other people's ways of life... but I worry that there is some polite immigrant out there who sees me as a Mrs. Shortley.

I think I'm getting off track... My initial reaction I guess was just uneasiness. And not the same uneasiness that Mrs. Shortley felt in the beginning. It was the tension between the two sides. The two "white" sides anyway. I honestly do not know how I feel about the black servant representation in this story. I KNOW they have an integral part in it, but I think I'm too clouded right now about the immigrant/worker tensions that I've actually failed to think about the black workers. How should I feel about the put downs, but then when push comes to shove, it's the Shortleys that are fired? Obvious racism, but there is also obvious comfort in knowing them, making them less of the unknown. But the Shortleys were a comfort to Mrs. McIntyre too. I'm confused about this so I welcome any comments.

Political Narrative

I think the pervasive Biblical references in "Flowering Judas" suggest the overwhelming importance of narrative in political movements. As was pointed out, Braggioni's wish washes his feet as though he is Jesus. It seems difficult to accept Braggioni as a Christ figure, given what we know about his morals and manners. Yet, in order for any revolution or political movement to have life, there must be a supporting narrative to convince followers (and leaders) that they are justified in their beliefs and actions. (When Laura admits she won't wear lace made by machine, an idea counter to the revolution, it is called her "private heresy," framing political ideals is clearly religious terms) (92).

Braggioni frames himself as a prophet--perhaps a Christ figure--but unlike Christ, Braggioni is a "professional" who "will never die of it"(98). Yet, in the teleological narrative of the revolution, there is an expected apocalyptic endpoint: Braggioni claims that "Some day this world, now so composed and eternal...shall be merely a tangle of gaping trenches, of crashing walls and broken bodies" (100). If he is a prophet or a Christ figure, he must see himself as one of the few surviving "elect spirits destined to procreate a new world" (100).

In the driving political narrative, I had to wonder about Laura's place. She only half-heartedly buys into Braggioni's prophet character. But does she still accept and believe in the teleological pseudo-religious narrative of the revolution? She seems enamoured with her own role: she enjoys playing the spy, the go-between. Certainly, it's glamourous. I think this is the core of her betrayal of Eugenio. As an expat, she doesn't have a vested interest in the revolution in the sense that she doesn't have to put herself in these dangers for the sake of her home country. Yet real patriots like Eugenio are committing suicide in prison. Reading the reference to cannibalism in here, I think Laura can be considered a cannibal in the sense that she is feeding off the narrative of a revolution which is not her own.

On a side note, something to consider for the second part of the course: Did Porter have anxieties about "feeding" off of Mexico? Did she have anxieties about living the glamourous life of an expat and using the stories of the people of a country which was not originally her own?

Laura "Hannibal" and loss of faith

I think the line where Eugenio calls Laura a cannibal stuck out for me more than anything. After reading this, I started drawing correlations with the Bible, and this one has really got me stumped! I'm going to go on a controversial limb...

I understand why he calls her a murderer. It is the connection with the Judas blossoms and Judas betraying Jesus, which lead to his death. Since I don't actually know what the connection between Laura and Eugenio is (there was a line about love, but I read it over and over and I cannot seem to grasp it!) I'm not really sure what the value of the murder line is here. I just understood the connection.

Now the cannibal line... I connected this with the loss of her Catholic faith. How I read the story was that she used to be Catholic, but life and especially the revolution has jaded her, and she doesn't really have faith in anything. She is walking this path that she has chosen for herself, but even though she's not fond of it anymore, she doesn't really care to change it. As I understand, during communion, Catholics take and eat and drink the actually blood and body of Christ. This is a literal view of the last supper where Jesus offers these things to his disciples. Can this be where the cannibal comment came from? Or have I just royally offended people by taking such a literal view myself? I guess we can take this more figuratively. The definition of cannibalism is one that eats others of its own kind. I didn't really see Laura as a life sucker of any sort, rather, just a good woman making the steps of the right path yet not really believing in any of it.

I would love to hear comments on this. Possibly from those that have more knowledge on either Catholicism or cannibalism.

Mercy and The Artificial Nigger

One of the most interesting things that I found was the idea O'Connor brought up in the last couple of paragraphs, that in order to have mercy, you first have to go through pain in some way, "He understood that it [mercy] grew out of agony, which is not denied to any man and which is given in a strange way to children" (230). This is a very interesting idea to me, because mercy usually implies something getting better, but that means in order for things to get better, they had to have been bad at some point. It is also interesting to me that this quote implies that agony is necessary and something everyone goes through, but that mercy is something that is special that is not necessary and that is not bestowed upon everyone. I also wondered what she meant by, "it is given in a strange way to children" (230). How is mercy given to children? In this story, Mr. Head feels mercy at the end, but we do not know how mercy relates to Nelson only that, "They could both feel it disslving their differences like an action of mercy" (230).

This also brings up another interesting topic of how is Nelson left in this story? Both Mr. Head and Nelson have undergone a sense of transformation in this story, but while Mr. Head has improved and felt mercy, Nelson has not and some of his "childhood innocence" is gone.

I am also interested in who has the power to bestow mercy. While they are looking at the statue, they feel mercy, but this mercy seems to come from a mystical power. Does Nelson have the power to bestow mercy on Mr. Head because he is the one that has been wronged? How is mercy transferred from person to person?

Mercy in "The Artificial Nigger"

After reading this story, I wanted to approximate a definition for mercy, as O'Connor understands it. Mr. Head's deductions near the end of the story tell us quite a bit - that "it [mercy] grew out of agony, which is not denied to any man and which is given in strange ways to children"; that mercy requires humility, as shown when the action of it "covered [Mr. Head's] pride like a flame and consumed it"; and that mercy is a ticket to heaven, as "no sin was too monstrous for him to claim as his own, and since God loved in proportion as He forgave" (230-31).

On agony: Mr. Head's denial of Nelson to the toppled woman plunges him into guilt. At the sight of the boy's eyes, which are "triumphantly cold," with "no light in them, no feeling, no interest, " Mr. Head despairs, knowing "what man would be like without salvation." (229) Mr. Head is completely disillusioned, with himself and his ability, just as Nelson is with Mr. Head - this is agony, "given in strange ways" to Nelson, and by knowledge of what he's done to the boy, a realization unto itself to Mr. Head.

On humility: Mr. Head all but prostrates himself before the fat man walking the dogs, his desperation like that of "someone shipwrecked on a desert island" (228). This event is a stark contrast to the proud Mr. Head at the beginning of the story, who is in constant (rather humorous) competition with his grandson. Mr. Head feels "entirely confident that he [can] carry out the oral mission of the coming day" (211), the confidence amounting to rather a lot of hubris for such a small task.

Nelson is humbled as well by his trip to the city. It is a point of contention between the grandfather and grandson on just how many times Nelson has been to the city; he insists this is his second trip "because he had been born there." (211) This claim persists throughout the story until, in its closing words, Nelson lays off, muttering, "'I'm glad I've went once, but I'll never go back again!'" (231) This change in Nelson proves a counterpoint to Mr. Head's own journey towards mercy; he is not the transgressor, he is the victim, but is humbled all the same.

On salvation: The trip to the city is the launching pad for Mr. Head and Nelson to better understand the nature of sin. Nelson imagines the city sewers as connected to the entrance of hell (220); Mr. Head describes the city as a "nigger heaven," the term rife with implications as to just who Mr. Head thinks belongs there (222); and, as they disembark from it in their town once again, the train "disappear[s] like a frightened serpent into the woods" (231), the instrument of temptation, though given into once, scared off by the man and the boy who have seen the light. When Mr. Head realizes that "he was forgiven for sins from the beginning of time . . . until the present, when he had denied poor Nelson" (231), he sees that the agony of all those sins, and the humility that they cause in him, are in fact just entry fees to heaven. "[S]ince God loved in proportion as He forgave, he felt ready at the instant to enter Paradise." (231)

So in fact Mr. Head's confidence in completing a moral mission is not unjustified, just unfocused - both he and Nelson escape the city with a better approximation of sin, and what transformation they must undergo to relieve themselves of that burden, to accept God's mercy and join Him in heaven.

Oh Mercy... I guess I'll take it

I started reading "The Artificial Nigger" and couldn't wait to do a post on it. I like how the intense racism that brings Mr. Head and Nelson together is only a subplot. Perhaps I watch too many Hitchcock films, but I thought that the reason that Nelson kept saying, "this is where I was born," especially in the black part of the city, was because Nelson's father was black. Obviously I was completely wrong and was completely veering in the wrong direction with the story.

The dynamic between the grandfather and grandson is absolutely beautiful. It is a perfect example of the wise and the ignorant... wait, which one is which? We are given descriptions of the characters as Mr. Head expressing youth in his face and demeanor while Nelson has an ancient look. Nelson tries to rebel against his grandfather constantly, which cause Mr. Head to react by over-compensating wisdom to the point where he blatantly embellishes. Mr. Head also seems to push Nelson into racism as a form of control over him. Not just racism, I guess, but fear altogether. This could just be a form of projection of Mr. Head's own fears, but I think he's taking it one step further and adding control to it.

Back to the mercy theme... The city proves to be overwhelming even for the "experienced" Mr. Head and he is brought down to human form there. The opening paragraph in the story personifies all his things as if he was running some sort of kingdom (as if he was God himself!) and it isn't until he fails in the city that he realizes he really doesn't have control over anything. I think God gave him mercy by letting him get away with abandoning his grandson (and maybe even showed him mercy from trying to act as God) - or at least that is how Mr. Head sees it. Really, it is Nelson that shows him mercy. Nelson has the upper hand in many ways and "forgives" Mr. Head by contributing to their common love of bashing on the "Negroes." It is a very sick thing that ultimately brings them back together, and I don't really know how to feel about it except, well, sick.

I think the readers of the story, and even the background characters (the women that Nelson has a run in with) pity Nelson. He follows, reluctantly at some times, a false hero. Mr. Head believes he is entitled to have Nelson's devotion and hates when he is questioned because every time Nelson questions, it points out all the flaws in Mr. Head's theories. Mr. Head is a hero only in his own mind, and he tries to structure his surroundings accordingly.

Does Mr. Head learn his lesson after he is granted mercy? Maybe. He sees it as a divine mercy, so he really only repents to God, and doesn't even bother to apologize to Nelson. In fact we only see that Nelson has changed in the end, because he makes the statement that he's only been to the city once, and no longer includes his birth. He feels humbled by the experience, and decides to depend on his grandfather for further guidance. This could count as falling under God's mercy of Mr. Head. Everything in the end was restored to its former order, and they get to rid themselves of the experience of the city.

Since I don't think that Mr. Head really changes his ways after he thinks he is granted mercy from God, I'm not sure I buy the fact that mercy was even granted. I think the feeling Mr. Head is having more than anything is intense guilt for what he has done. I'm basing this opinion mainly on the definitions of mercy. "Compassion" is used a lot in the definitions and I'm not sure I see it anywhere, except from maybe the old woman who gets her ankle broken by Nelson, and the "dark" woman who gives them directions to the station. It's a stretch for mercy, but I guess I'll take it!

Concept of white trash 9/07/08

My first thought for these readings is definitely on "The River." For the first time, I completely related to the "Bevel" (child) character. Even though I don't consider my upbringings to be "white trash," I remember the first time I saw a Baptism. I remember seeing a the preacher yell out a heated prayer and then dunk the man's head under the water. They closed the curtain, so I never actually saw the man rise from the water. I put it together as Baptisms meaning that you are drowned in order to wash your sins. I never wanted to be Baptized! Anyway, Bevel's drowning in the end reminded me of my childhood memory and made me think about Baptisms in relation to revelations. I think in Bevel's case, his revelation was that only he could make his path. Even the preacher didn't take him seriously and "finish" the Baptism.

Does the message in the story mean it's better off to be dead than to be white trash? In Mrs. Turpin's mind, she'd probably say so. She would rather be black (and respectable!) then be white trash. It isn't even being poor that the characters in this story mind, it's having a "good disposition."

I can't help but wonder what this "good disposition" really means and if today we call it something else. Does it have to do with education? Politics? Religion? Can we draw similarities in the constant bantering of conservatives in primetime talk shows? Why is there such a dislike for the white trash? My entire life I let this term slide off my shoulder because I just assumed it was another stereotype that my mom tried so desperately to get rid of in my mind.

My interpretation of Mrs. Turpin's revelation was that she wasn't all that different from the other classes. Even as she was thinking and labeling the other classes, she notes that eventually they all muddle together. The "ugly" girl that attacked her probably targeted her because she "knew" that Mrs. Turnip would say one thing and think another. That is why Turpin said she felt like the girl knew her and had a specific reason for not liking her. I found Turpin's remarks in the waiting room much more offensive than the white trash lady, mainly because everything she was saying was sugar-coated and insincere. She was always thinking something else, and usually had some critical, judgmental thought about the ugly or white trash women. In fact, all she did was judge and criticize.

I'm not really sure if I understood the end of "Revelation." Was it that Mrs. Turpin was rationalizing her anger and frustration with feeling like she wasn't as good of a person as she thought? Was her "revelation" reversed? It seemed to me that she ended on the conclusion that no matter what happened, she was still right. Any thoughts?

Pigs in "The River"

Given the spotlight pigs enjoy in both "The River" and "Revelation," I thought I would try to explore their role in one story to better understand the other.

In Mrs. Connin's "The Life of Jesus Christ for Readers Under Twelve," Bevel marvels at the pictures, especially "one of the carpenter driving a crowd of pigs out of a man" (160). A little bit of googling ("jesus, pigs") leads me to believe that this is in reference to Matthew 8.28-34. Briefly, Jesus comes across two possessed men; they ask Him if he intends to torture them before their time. Looking to a herd of pigs in the distance, "the devils besought him, saying, If thou cast us out, suffer us to go away into the herd of swine. And he said unto them, Go. And when they were come out, they went into the herd of swine: and, behold, the whole herd of swine ran violently down a steep place into the sea, and perished in the waters." Biblical text from here.

Speaking of pigs: the shoat that Bevel releases from the pen is established to look like Mr. Paradise, the pig "long-legged and hump-backed and part of one of his ears . . . bitten off" (159), and Mr Paradise "a huge old man who sat like a humped stone," his hat turned up "to expose a purple bulge on his left temple" (163), what Mrs. Connin tells us is ear cancer (159). But the pig doesn't just look like Mr. Paradise - to Bevel, Mr. Paradise (in his rush to save Bevel from the river) is "something like a giant pig bounding after him" (171).

To draw a direct parallel between "The River" and the story in Matthew, Mr. Paradise seems to be representative of the pigs driven of the possessed men who scare the swine herd into the sea, causing their deaths, and Bevel himself representative of the herd. I think there's merit to the interpretation; the demons of Matthew are distant from God by virtue of their nature, and Mr. Paradise puts no stock in the words of Reverend Bevel Summers. According to Mrs. Connin, "'He always comes [to the river] to show he ain't been healed" (159).

However, the parallel connection seems a little too prosaic for O'Connor, and under a microscope it doesn't hold up. Who was the Jesus that drove Mr. Paradise to the river? What man was Mr. Paradise cast off from? I don't have a more satisfying interpretation, only a lot more questions, the first of which is, with whom do we sympathize in this story? Bevel's a liar and a thief, though only four or five; his parents shirk him so that they can have a good time; the Reverend is perhaps a hack. Maybe you sympathize with Mrs. Connin, but I like Mr. Paradise. Does that make him the Jesus of Matthew 8.28-34, or is O'Connor asking for a reinterpretation of that story to understand her own? I think that it's probably the second, but I haven't been able to figure out just how to justify that yet.

Mrs. Turpin's Faith

I find it interesting that Mrs. Turpin, Much like Granny Weatherall, expects that, because of her close relationship with the church/God, she deserves to be treated in a specific way. While Granny Weatherall expects some sort of salvation or entrance to heaven, Mrs. Turpin feels as though God should protect her from malicious people. Mrs. Turpin believes that God has sent her a disturbing and injudicious message through the ‘ugly girl’: “The message had been given to Ruby Turpin, a respectable, hard-working, church-going woman” (502). She cannot understand how something bad can happen to someone ‘good’ like herself. Mrs. Turpin believes that she should be protected from harmful and slanderous comments like these. When she hoses down the pigs by herself she states, “‘What do you send me a message like that for?’” (506), making it appear as though she is speaking directly to God. I think that Mrs. Turpin believes that God has control of everything that happens to her—that he has dictated the event. She is deeply hurt because of all the time she has dedicated to helping the less-fortunate and working at her church. This sense of imagined or assumed safety is questioned in both the case of Granny Weatherall and Mrs. Turpin, and perhaps is meant to act as a comment on people’s often expectant tendencies in regard to their faith.

He

What really captured my attention while I was reading this story was how the boy was referred to as "He" throughout. Usually, when I think of "He" with a capital at the beginning, I think of God and Jesus and how Christians show respect by capitalizing this pronoun. While reading this story, I kept trying to figure out why Porter would capitalize this word. One possibility I thought of is that He is like his name (or maybe is his real name?), so it became a capitalized proper noun. Another possibility I thought of is that he is so important in the Whipples' lives and to this story that he received special recognition through this pronoun. Another possibility, and the one that I find most intriguing, is the possibility that Porter was trying to draw a connection between the boy and religion. In a way, the boy is treated with respect (except when they take his blanket away from him), he gets fed first and best, he is expected to be forgiving (or forgetful) of everyone and everything, and he is also expected to be giving and help out (he is expected to help with the pig and bull), all the ways in which a God should be treated. Also, I have heard (was it in this class?) that in "the olden days," when this story took place, that people with mental disabilities were thought to be especially in touch with God and his message. I am wondering why Porter would be drawing (if she is in fact) connections between religion and this boy, especially when he gets taken away. Possibly as a social comment to show how religious people are? I don't have a clear answer for this, but I find it all very intriguing. What do you all think?