A Pale View of Hills

I would like to write about A Pale View of Hills, where the narrator seems unreliable, as she is retelling memories that she might have made up. Memories that are out of order and incomplete when it comes to the life of Mariko. When reading the book, the relationship between Etsuko and Mariko seems odd, and assuming that Etsuko is infact Sachiko, things make much more sense, as to why Mariko would be acting the way she does towards this Woman  (who may have a personality disorder). The novel is seen through the eyes of Etsuko, and once we make the connection between her and Sachiko, her memories   have to be examined and criticised, because we will never really know what is made up, and what has been repressed (dark events were told, but yet, we were left with questions about what Mariko was exposed to). 

"Yes, of course.” Mrs. Fujiwara kept looking into my face. “But I meant you looked a little miserable.’ “Miserable? I certainly don’t feel it. I’m just a little tired, but otherwise I’ve never been happier.” ‘That’s good. You must keep your mind on happy things now. Your child. And the future.”

 “Yes, I will. Thinking about the child cheers me up.” “Good.” She nodded, still keeping her gaze on me. “Your attitude makes all the difference.A mother can  take all the physical care she likes, she needs a positive attitude to bring up a child.” -A Pale View of Hills

This conversation [above] between Etsuko and Mrs. Fujiwara, which talks about how expectant mothers must be, shows how happy they seem, and how their only concern is the future of their families and the well-being of the babies. When all that has happened in Japan, a woman is expected to rebuild and only worry about keeping their children innocent. Based on historical knowledge, this novel portrays women as the future and therefore, they believed they had to maintain a certain level of sanity throughout the horror and obstacles. When we look at the actions and feelings others have had on the women and each other; the bomb was justified in order to bring peace. The people affected were supposed to get over this incident, and as a matter of fact, they were believed to be “okay”, as nothing major had happened. Women were seen as the future, and as a result, they had the pressure to remain as beautiful “virgins”. In the case of Etsuko, we can see that her life was affected and not only that, but the life of her older daughter as well. What stands out, in the passage, is that Mrs. Fujiwara, who is at an advanced age, is the one who is thinking about the future and the idea that all one needs to bring up a child through war times, is to remain positive. Women were not supposed to dwell in the present, when they had to deal with their children. In the passage, Mrs. Fujiwara thinks it is strange that she looks miserable, and yet, she is told that she could not be happier. The conversation seems to talk about, or insinuate, that she does not physically look well, but that all will be well if she remains positive. The denial that this woman feels about not being affected, makes it hard to further believe what these people are saying, since they cannot be honest with themselves.

 

“As master and man stood before him, the black upholding the white, Captain Delano could not but bethink him of the beauty of that relationship which could present such a spectacle of fidelity on the one hand and confidence on the other. The scene was heightened by the contrast in dress, denoting their relative positions. The Spaniard wore a loose Chili jacket of dark velvet; white small-clothes and stockings, with silver buckles at the knee and instep; a high-crowned sombrero, of fine grass; a slender sword, silver mounted, hung from a knot in his sash—the last being an almost invariable adjunct, more for utility than ornament, of a South American gentleman's dress to this hour. Excepting when his occasional nervous contortions brought about disarray, there was a certain precision in his attire curiously at variance with the unsightly disorder around; especially in the belittered Ghetto, forward of the main-mast, wholly occupied by the blacks.

The servant wore nothing but wide trowsers, apparently, from their coarseness and patches, made out of some old topsail; they were clean, and confined at the waist by a bit of unstranded rope, which, with his composed, deprecatory air at times, made him look something like a begging friar of St. Francis.” (45)

In this passage, Captain Delano's observations of Babo and Cereno's clothing (which has been entirely staged by Babo) shows us both the difference between the true plot and the unreliable narrator as well as highlighting exactly where his ideology impacts his reliability.  “As master and man stood before him, the black upholding the white, Captain Delano could not but bethink him of the beauty of that relationship which could present such a spectacle of fidelity on the one hand and confidence on the other.” In this introductory sentence to the paragraph, Melville is drawing direct attention to Delano's shortcomings, and allowing us to play detective. Delano's convoluted ideology is consumed by his presupposed relationship between black and white that all he can see is the radical contrasts between them. “Fidelity” and “Confidence” are two words which begin to trigger our unreliable narrator sensors: Delano himself is astonished at the supposed trust Cereno gives Babo, as he himself would not think a servant should be entrusted as much as Babo.

The description of the dress is where Captain Delano is thoroughly played by Babo. Babo has forced Cereno to dress in unnaturally fancy clothes of “...jacket of dark velvet; white small-clothes and stockings, with silver buckles at the knee and instep; a high-crowned sombrero, of fine grass; a slender sword, silver mounted, hung from a knot in his sash”. As in many other passages, here Babo is enjoying the theatrics and performance and almost teasing Cereno with the reversed power balance by dressing him in fine dress wear, as though even while at sea Cereno can show his status. Babo has even outfitted Cereno with a decorative sword scabbard (which Delano does not realize is empty). Delano himself isn't sure what to make of the sword, saying it is “an almost invariable adjunct” and it does not match the style-over-function attire of the Captain. Delano also notes “There was a certain precision in his attire curiously at variance with the unsightly disorder around”. Delano is unconsciously noticing how Babo has precisely crafted and staged a costume for Cereno to help sell his story.

Indeed Babo's pants are made from “some old topsoil”, another Sherlock moment in which the reader remembers the previous page where the sails were supposedly “torn asunder”. Babo's costume for himself is similarly over the top as his costume for Cereno; with his tied burlap shorts he is seen as Francsescan, which can be decoded as he is attempting to emulate Jesus himself. The passage as a whole draws attention to Babo's theatrics and the unreliability of Delano, while also reinforcing that it is his own ideological failures that prevent him from realizing the truth.

Western Gaze Defining the Narrative of a Culture

"Perhaps I was unnecessarily curt with her that morning, but then it was presumptuous of Niki to suppose I would need reassuring on such matters. Besides, she has little idea of what actually occurred during those last days in Nagasaki. One supposes she has built up some sort of picture from what her father has told her. Such a picture, inevitably, would have its inaccuracies. For, in truth, despite all the impressive articles he wrote about Japan, my husband never understood the ways of our culture, even less a man like Jiro. I do not claim to recall Jiro with affection, but then he was never the oafish man my husband considered him to be. Jiro worked hard to do his part for the family and he expected me to do mine; in his own terms, he was a dutiful husband. Indeed, for the seven years he knew his daughter, he was a good father to her. Whatever else I convinced myself of during those final days, I never pretended Keiko would not miss him." 

- A Pale View of Hills pg. 90

Previously before this passage, Niki is telling Etsuko about how her poet friend was inspired to write about Etsuko's experiences in Nagasaki and presumably her decision to move to leave Japan and her husband to move to Britain. She prefaces by saying how "So many women,' she said, 'get stuck with kids and lousy husbands and they're just miserable. But they can't pluck up the courage to do a thing about it. They'll just go on like that for the rest of their lives" and ties this statement to her mother by saying "You ought to have been proud of what your did with your life."

In a lot of ways, Niki is a reflection of her father, whom Etsuko left Jiro to be with, in that like her father she only has a screened memory of what Etsuko's life must be like beforehand and romanticizes through their Western gaze: unnamed husband seems to implicitly stated to be a reporter or journalist, wrote a few articles that are "impressive" but totally doesn't know the culture so to me that's probably an implication that his articles skews on an Orientalist sensationalism rather than some kind of cultural sensitivity; Niki judges Etsuko's prior life to be backwards, and that leaving that life is some kind of empowerment act, while the unnamed husband chose to interpret Jiro as oafish and also in the text insinuates that it's because of Jiro that Keiko turned out the way she is before her suicide.

Niki also prioritizes other people's interpretation of events above the actual person who is being subjected to the interpretation. She states that her poet friend is brilliant in that "It's amazing how well she understands people. She's been through quite a bit herself." It's like saying that her poet friend knows Etsuko just as well as if she had met her, and that by making Etsuko the subject of the poem, it's in a way de-mystifying her and placing her in a specific narrative, which is that of an empowered woman who left a traumatized country and presumably an unhappy marriage. This perception of her mother is also given secondhand from her father, who as a journalist, authoritizes his own perception of Japan and decided that some aspects of its culture must be this way despite being totally ignorant about the nuances.

Such as Jiro. Why would Etsuko say her husband thought Jiro oafish? It comes from the historical feminization of Japan in Western narratives. Japan is not only a victim, but one that has to be reshaped through westernization so that they can be "liberated," or becoming more free and turning away from backwards beliefs like having an emperor or being imbued with divinity. And without even going into the text, what are the usual racist perceptions of Japanese men by westerners? There's things like "oh the Japanese are so overtly humble, they're value authority over individuality, they'd rather sacrifice their lives for their work or their country." The overarching narrative of western perception of Japanese men is that they are just not masculine or have the virtues that are associated with masculinity. The Western narrative of emasculating Asian men occurred before WWII and is justified even more in the United States' victory in Japan after WWII, and their decision in the occupation of Japan is to focus on the female Japanese narrative sculpted in their hands which includes actions such as "rehabilitating" Japanese women who survived the atomic bombings by giving them plastic surgery to reconstruct their appearances, dubbing them "Hiroshima maidens" or "Atomic Bomb Maidens."

Which is why the term "oafish" is used by Etsuko's English journalist husband. It'd be one thing if Jiro was described by either Etsuko or unnamed husband said that he was abusive or it was an unhappy marriage (which is what Etsuko seems to say it is; in the text their interactions are depicted as a pretty typical salaryman husband and wife going through their own domestic microaggressions), but saying that he is "oafish' suggests that unnamed journalist husband knew him enough to form a judgment that isn't just "oppressive Asian man" but that Jiro, in connection with his culture that journalist husband doesn't understand at all, is lacking in some kind of standards.

But I think what makes up the meat of this exchange is how much Niki and Etsuko are opposed to each other. Niki's character seems to imply that she is more interested in understanding her mother through other people, whether it be through her dad or her poet friend who apparently understands Etsuko more than Niki herself. She seems to feel very comfortable in objectifying her mother by being the subject of a poem from her friend who despite "been through a lot herself" shouldn't know anything about Etsuko because it suggests that her experiences in Nagasaki and the trauma of the atomic bomb is some kind of "universal" sentiment. It's made clear through Etsuko that she doesn't like anything of what Niki might have thought of her but chose not to reveal her true feelings to her. Which also includes how despite how she felt about Jiro, he and Keiko actually got on well with each other which is more than how she thought about her own mother-daughter relationship with her.

The screen memory for Niki is that narratives such as her mother's are there for the consumption of other people who are not directly related to her experiences, with her culture being distilled for Western perceptions and her own experiences being artful fodder for strangers, all the while saying that she is somehow empowered, and that unlike her so many other women get stuck in apparently dead-end marriages and shackled with children. Which is really, a very unkind thing to say about her own sister Keiko.

Language of the Disempowered

"They are too poor. They are too poor to go anywhere. They are too poor to escape the reality of their lives; and they are too poor to live properly in the place where they live, which is they very place you, the tourist, want to go---so when the natives see you, the tourist, they envy you, they envy your ability to turn their own banality and boredom into a source of pleasure for yourself" (Kincaid 19).

The language in this particular passage carries a sarcastic tone, and I find that it is quite unapologetic in its delivery. I think language is very much related to identity, and one idea that I have often come across is that identity, or in other words, "the personal" is political. There is no hesitation in these words, and that tone continues throughout Kincaid's novel. I also find that the repetition of the natives being poor serves to highlight the both the privileges and wrongs of the tourist and colonizers. The natives do not necessarily have a representative voice, or even the means to move freely like the tourists do, so why wouldn't they be envious? Underneath the sarcasm, there seems to be another layer of emotion that wants to say something along the lines of "All these natives want to do is imitate the tourists and live glamorous lives" but that is not the real intention Kincaid wants to get across; but rather it shows that these native people would like the freedom to be their own person. That they do not want to be singled out as a "they" or some kind of Other. That the effects of violence and neocolonialism have stripped them of their right to make a living as a free individual. Instead, they are victim to being the underdog, which causes scuffles among their own people, and in falling victim to the tourists/colonizers, they have fallen victims to themselves. And because they don't have the resources or the right leadership to pull them out of this, the cycle of violence continues.

Imposing Values on the Colonized

"They don't believe in anything either. You and your like are trying to make a war with the help of people who just aren't interested."
"They don't want communism."
"They want enough rice," I said. "They don't want to be shot at. They want one day to be much the same as another. They don't want our white skins around telling them what they want."
"If Indochina goes--"
"I know that record. Siam goes. Malaya goes. Indonesia goes. What does 'go' mean? If I believed in your God and another life, I'd bet my future harp against your golden crown that in five hundred years there may be no New York or London, but they'll be growing paddy in these fields, they'll be carrying their produce to market on long poles, wearing their pointed hats. The small boys will be sitting on the buffaloes. I like the buffaloes, they don't like our smell, the smell of Europeans.”

-A Quiet American (94-95)


This passage is important in demonstrating the paradox of many conflicts involving the Western countries and the East, especially the Vietnam war. Time and time again, the United States insists to its citizens and the rest of the world that the reason for engaging in battle is for helping the people in the area fight for a certain political system -- namely democracy. This has been used as a justification for invading other countries for decades, not just by America, but European nations as well during the peak of imperialism. It is a well known fact that European colonialists upheld the idea of the "white man's burden," or the white man's moral duty to help their uncivilized brothers in Africa and Asia become culturally and politically enlightened. In the 20th century, America took over this role by attempting to clear the world of communism, trying to convince other nations it was for their own good while clearly having an ulterior agenda, in their power struggle with the Soviet Union.

Fowler's comment about how the Vietnamese don't actually want to engage in this war is true, that it is really the United States who are the ones with special interests in continuing the fighting. It is obvious that the Vietnamese aren't the ones calling the shots in regards to when combat starts and ends, as Fowler points out by saying "white skins [are] around telling them what they want." Pyle, in contrast, represents the typical brainwashed mentality of a fresh soldier, believing in the good that the Unites States is trying to do; his statement about communism being the reason for the fighting makes it clear that he buys into the American propaganda. Fowler's jaded perspective allows him to see through that.

Permanently Masking the Truth in Post-War Japan.

Passage: "A young woman, very thin. I knew something was wrong and Mariko must have done too because she stopped running. At first I thought the woman was blind, she had that kind of look, her eyes didn't seem to actually see anything. Well, she brought her arms out of the canal and showed us what she'd been holding under the water. It was a baby. I took hold of Mariko then and we came out of the alley" (Ishiguro 74).

The narration of the speakers dialogue, who is in this case Sachiko, is done so in a way that emphasizes the ambiguity in the language and tone to show the unreliability of the reflecting narrator who is traumatically affected by the devastating bombings in Hiroshima and Nagasaki. As the narrator, who is believed to be Etsuko, retells her friends story as being an example of her bad and negligent parenting--she creates a screen memory that replaces her responsibility of how the bomb affected her into a descriptive imaginary friend that mirrors her own blurred experience after the bomb dropped. The woman who is "thin" cut her throat in front of Mariko and that triggered her natural emotion to overtake her and her mother just cant understand why. She mentions that she looks blind which shows the real blindness of the narrator because she is retelling the story and going over explicitly how this "Sachiko" supposedly saw this setting, but why is she able to retell this with such great detail? It could be because she cant and never will accept the truth even though there is all this talk about moving forward on her half, and she just cant realize that she is the witness to this horrific event. The parallel of this scene to the scene on pages 165-166 reveal that it is quite possible that it was Etsuko who killed her child. The baby is held up out of the water by the ghostly woman and similarly, Sachiko hold up the wet kitten and says its all right. This is a cover up, a mask that Etsuko chooses to believe is real to escape her reality and it shows just how devastating war technology can affect an entire society.  

By Alex Hanley  

Looking Through Lenses: A Pale View of Hills

"Besides me, Mariko was looking out of the window, her knees up on the bench. From our side of the car, we could see the forecourt and the gathering of young spectators at the turnstiles. Mariko seemed to be testing the effectiveness of her binoculars, holding them to her eyes one moment, taking them away the next" (Ishiguro, 106).

This passage exemplifies the unreliability woven through Kazuo Ishiguro's A Pale View of Hills. Mariko is looking at the town of Nagasaki through a window and in addition with her binoculars, which can be compared to a camera obscura. This causes a disconnect from the reality of the ground-level devastation of the atomic bomb due to the act of looking being a form of separation. It is also interesting that Ishiguro decided to have Mariko looking through the window with her binoculars because she is an innocent child, looking at violence through two panes of glass. Perhaps this creates evidence of the phrase that "children are the future" and thus, must be blinded to the atrocities that were committed in acts of peace. In addition it can be concluded that the act of looking is one of innocence.
Delving further into the passage, the use of the word "young spectators" infers that there is an already established alienation of the history of violence, from the tourists' point of view; a young tourist. This act of spectating can be related to Peter Hale's theory of the Atomic Sublime, in which the image of the mushroom cloud is an act of separation from the viewer's perspective and the perspective of the people experiencing the mass destruction underneath the mushroom cloud. Hales describes the mushroom cloud as a horrific and magnificently beautiful image, that can be related to what Mariko is looking at through the different lenses of a window and her binoculars.

Captain Delano's ideals of Friendship

Herman Melville, "Benito Cereno", (1855).

"'Ah, master,' sighed the black, bowing his face, 'don't speak of me; Babo is nothing; what Babo has done was but duty.'
'Faithful fellow!' cried Capt. Delano. 'Don Benito, I envy you such a friend; slave I cannot call him'"
As master and slave stood before him,  the black upholding the white, Captain Delano could not but bethink him of the beauty of that relationship" (45).

The view that Capt. Delano has of Babo and Capt. Cereno is reminiscent of the propaganda images for Uncle Tom's Cabin. The sight of Babo as the perfect servant is one that neutralizes him as a threat, placing him in the position of an endearing figure, one that Capt. Delano indulgently calls 'friend', although we know that this is not a true friendship between equals..
The seeming docility and servility of Babo, as well as the apparent joy that he feels in doing his job well, work to endear him to Captain Delano, and the Captain makes a weak attempt to humanize him, although in an inherently unequal way.
These initial impressions of Babo lead Captain Delano, and subsequently us, to read Babo as a 'good black', a docile fellow who is completely and utterly fulfilled by his job. Babo is portrayed as achieving recognition of the whites through his good service, the only way through which a slave can earn the honorary, yet utterly false, label of 'friend'.
These terms of endearment are ultimately patronizing labels designed to perpetuate the ari of inequality between the races; the bestowal of this title upon Babo by Delano only serves to highlight that they could never indeed truly be 'friends'.

Becoming Scientifically Interesting

“I couldn’t help asking him once what he meant by coming there at all. ‘To make money, of course. What do you think?’ he said, scornfully. Then he got fever, and had to be carried in a hammock slung under a pole. As he weighed sixteen stone I had no end of rows with the carriers. They jibbed, ran away, sneaked off with their loads in the night—quite a mutiny. So, one evening, I made a speech in English with gestures, not one of which was lost to the sixty pairs of eyes before me, and the next morning I started the hammock off in front all right. An hour afterwards I came upon the whole concern wrecked in a bush—man, hammock, groans, blankets, horrors. The heavy pole had skinned his poor nose. He was very anxious for me to kill somebody, but there wasn’t the shadow of a carrier near. I remembered the old doctor—‘It would be interesting for science to watch the mental changes of individuals, on the spot.’ I felt I was becoming scientifically interesting. However, all that is to no purpose.” (Conrad 13)

Throughout Heart of Darkness, a reader is forced to make an evaluation, and subsequent consistent re-evaluations, of Marlowe’s mental state. While one must often read into the text in order to do so, there are moments within the story where Marlowe calls attention to his own declining mental health. Therefore, the reliability of Marlowe’s entire narrative is called into question. The above quotation is a unique moment in which Marlowe displays a self-awareness that hints at his steady decline into what one may consider to be madness, darkness, or mere unreliability. 

In this passage, Marlowe is conveying the story of his arguably useless, and certainly laughable, “white companion.” The man is not well suited for the climate or environment of the Congo, however, when Marlowe questions him about why he came to the place, the man asserts that it was entirely for “money, of course.” This calls attention to the purely capitalist motives of the majority of the colonial forces and imperial agents employed within the region while simultaneously implying that Marlowe possess a different motivation. When the man falls victim to fever, he must be carried by the natives within Marlowe’s caravan who are already carrying sixty pound loads. This is in stark contrast to Marlowe’s description in the proceeding paragraph of the path and “now and then a carrier dead in harness, at rest in the long grass near the path, with an empty water-gourd and his long staff lying by his side.” The black men are allowed to waste away and die under forced, enslaved labor conditions, while the white man’s well being is guarded under threat of violence. Marlowe explains that he makes a speech to the carriers who are complaining or abandoning their duties because of the difficulty of carrying this white man. However, he makes this speech “in English” and it is merely his interpretation that the meaning of his accompanying gestures was not lost to the men. This is an instance where the legitimacy of ‘law’ in the eyes of the colonizer is mediated by the language of that colonizer, rendering the law itself unreliable. However, it is soon clear that Marlowe’s speech was not successful as later that morning, he comes across the man in the litter wrecked in the bushes. He describes it as “man, hammock, groans, blankets, horrors.” The word ‘horrors’ stands out clearly, for it appears as a rather obvious exaggeration for what has occurred, particularly considering the scenes of death that Marlowe was so recently describing. The man wants blood in return for was has happened but the carriers have fled. Marlowe’s response to this is interesting, because he refers back to the “old doctor” and the notion that “it would be interesting for science to watch the mental changes of individuals, on the spot’ and furthermore, that he feels as though he is “becoming scientifically interesting.” This leads one to the conclusion that in this moment, Marlowe is changing somehow, yet one must question why and how this is occurring, which is what I hope to explore further in my paper. 

"Innocence is a Kind of Insanity": Pyle and the Third Force

“…Do you expect General Thé to lose his demonstration? This is better than a parade. Women and children are news, and soldiers aren’t, in a war. This will hit the world’s Press. You’ve put General Thé on the map all right, Pyle. You’ve got the Third Force and National Democracy all over your right shoe. Go home to Phoung and tell her about your heroic dead––there are a few dozen less of her people to worry about… and I thought, ‘What’s the good? he’ll always be innocent, you can't blame the innocent, they are always guiltless. All you can do is control them or eliminate them. Innocence is a kind of insanity’ (Greene 163).

A theme that I have been following in The Quiet American is the way western perceptions of Vietnamese political desires are portrayed. Specifically in this passage, I am interested in Pyle’s overgeneralizing belief that the solution to the political crisis in Vietnam is a Third Force rather than Communism or Democracy. A common theme in the novel is the assertion of western viewpoints as truth, while the political beliefs of Vietnamese characters are often rendered voiceless in the novel. In several cases, Pyle and Fowler actually disguise their highly invested ideologies as disinterested or innocent views. 

After Fowler witnesses the detonation of Pyle’s bomb in the town plaza, Fowler criticizes Pyle for his decision to join General Thé, who Pyle had believed to be the answer to his so called Third Force. Pyle’s naiveté that rushed him into following the plans of General Thé illustrates the danger of enforcing western viewpoints as the best solution. While Pyle believed that the Third Force was a neutral force that represented the answer to the Vietnam War, the reality of death and war are materialized as Fowler says, “You’ve got the Third Force and National Democracy all over your right shoe.” By pointing the blood of the Vietnamese that died in the bombing, Fowler attempts to show Pyle the reality of his idealistic beliefs of innocence. Fowler’s claim that “innocence is a kind of insanity” illustrates the way that innocence and ideology go hand in hand in distorting reality.

Lastly, I would like to point out the way that Phoung serves as a distraction for Fowler that blinds him from the reality behind Pyle’s actions. Fowler attempts to pin all of the blame for the bombing on Pyle, while Fowler may actually be less innocent than he believes. Even within the above passage, Phoung serves as an object of jealousy as Fowler tells Pyle to “go home to her.” Because Fowler’s perception of Pyle is completely obscured by their rivalry over Phoung, Fowler doesn’t see Pyle as the threat that he is.

Marlowe's Interiority Extenalized

"I came upon him and if he had not heard me coming, I would have fallen over him too, but he got up in time. He rose, unsteady, long, pale, indistinct like a vapour exhaled by the earth, and swayed slightly, misty and silent before me while at my back the fires loomed between the trees, and the murmur of many voices issued from the forest. I had cut him off cleverly, but when actually confronting him I seemed to come to my senses; I saw the danger in its right proportion. It was by no means over yet. Suppose he began to shout. Though he could hardly stand there was still plenty of vigour in his voice. 'Go away- hide yourself,' he said in that profound tone. It was very awful. I glanced back. We were within thirty yards from the nearest fire. A black figure stood up, strode on long black legs, waving long black arms across the glow. It had horns- antelope horns, I think- on its head. Some sorcerer, some witch-man, no doubt: it looked fiend-like enough. 'Do you know what you are doing?' I whispered. 'Perfectly,' he answered raising his voice for that single word; it sounded to me far off and yet loud like a hail through a speaking-trumpet. If he makes a row, we are lost, I thought to myself. This clearly was not a case for fisticuffs, even apart from the very natural aversion I had to beat that Shadow- this wandering and tormented thing. 'You will be lost,' I said- 'utterly lost.' One gets sometimes such a flash of inspiration, you know. I did say the right thing, though indeed he could not have been more irretrievably lost than he was at this very moment when the foundations of our intimacy were being laid- to endure- to endure- even to the end- even beyond."

~ Marlow on Kurtz from Conrad's Heart of Darkness (65)

This portion of the text stems from the evening before Marlow's crew takes Kurtz out of the wilderness he calls home during his ivory exploits. The fact that his physical health is failing during a moment where a possible uprising by the native peoples is happening outside does not bode well in Marlowe's eyes, who describes finding him lying in the grass as he attempts to escape. Here, Kurtz rises "unsteady, long, pale, indistinct like a vapour exhaled by the earth," swaying "slightly, misty, and silent." Much like Marlow's background of the "fires that loomed between the trees," Kurtz is a smoky fragment of a man in the night. The fact that the language utilized to describe Kurtz's ascension from lying on his belly to being upright in a standing position functions to produce this connection not only emphasizes Kurtz's failing vitality, it also maintains the idea that his life has consisted of perpetuating destruction as well. His physicality is inseparable from the fiery hell behind Marlow because of this, which could have caused Marlow to be dragged down with him if Kurtz hadn't "got up in time." Yet the hunting like diction from Marlow in regards to cutting Kurtz "off cleverly" before realizing the "danger in its right proportion" at the chance of Kurtz drawing attention to them by shouting somewhat places Marlow in a position of power over Kurtz. This is why at the thought of fighting the tribes people, Marlow indicates that "this clearly was not a case for fisticuffs," simply because Marlow has no intention to fight and Kurtz is too weak. However, Marlow is defenseless in more ways than this when one considers the manner in which he upholds Kurtz's most trivial actions. He claims that despite Kurtz's physical weakness: "there was still plenty of vigour in his voice;" Kurtz's advice to hide is stated in a "profound tone" that is somehow "awful" too;  he answers with a "raising his voice for that single word" that it sounds "far off and yet loud like a hail through a speaking-trumpet" for Marlow. None of this would cause any indication of something out of the ordinary if it wasn't for how profoundly detailed Kurtz's mannerisms are in relation to how they affect Marlow, which leads to the conclusion that Marlow is more fond of Kurtz than just an acquaintance or male friend. Instead, it subtly implies an unspeakable homosexual liking of Kurtz because of how deeply moved Marlow is by every aspect of Kurtz he describes, even down to the most trivial things such as the volume of his voice while speaking only five words within this scene. This is why Marlow falls to repetition between his sentiments to Kurtz that he will be lost if he moves to action, to how unreachable Kurtz is despite his words because he's already "more irretrievably lost than he was at this very moment when the foundations of our intimacy were being laid- to endure- to endure- even to the end- even beyond." The repetition of "to endure" expounds upon the nature of their relationship through Marlow's eyes, who does not merely see Kurtz as the mysterious man he's been trying to find throughout the entirety of his story; rather, Kurtz has become the ultimate boon for Marlow to obtain, with an inexplicable love that will go on "to the end" and "even beyond" said end. Perhaps this explains the satanic imagery of the "black figure," who "stood up, strode on long black legs, waving long black arms across the glow. It had horns- antelope horns, I think- on its head. Some sorcerer, some witch-man, no doubt: it looked fiend-like enough." Instead of portraying Kurtz as evil due to his violent methods of gaining control over these people (the heads on stakes for example), Marlow characterizes the native person with his headdress as demon-like to emphasize his adoration of Kurtz. The fact that this figure is referred to as "it", with long limbs, and is called a "sorcerer" or "witch-man" not only animalizes him, it makes him the embodiment of something evil and devilish, even though Marlow calls Kurtz "that Shadow" that he needs to beat. Kurtz is undeniably an evil of colonialism and a figure of underlying homosexual desire for Marlow, which encapsulates two humongous examples of darkness within Marlow's interpretation of this memory of the Congo. Nonetheless, Kurtz is an untouchable figure for Marlow, for a variety of overlapping reasons. 

A New Dawn for the Rising Sun

For this blog post, I’ll be analyzing the key moments of a rising cultural conflict between the older generation in Ogata-San and the upcoming generation in the lens of Shigeo.

“In your day, children in Japan were taught terrible things…They were taught lies of the most damaging kind. Worst of all, they were taught not to see, not to question. And that’s why the country was plunged into the most evil disaster in her entire history” (147)

“You have no idea, Shigeo, how hard we worked, men like myself, men like Dr. Endo, who you insulted in your article. We cared deeply for the country and worked hard to ensure correct values were preserved and handed on” (147)

“Very few men could see where it was all leading at the time, and those men were put in prison for saying what they thought. But they’re free now, and they’ll lead us to a new dawn…For instance, the sacking and imprisoning of the five teachers Nishizaka…but those men are free now, and they’ll help us reach a new dawn” (148)

From the first part of the dialogue, we see that Shigeo is quick to criticize the education the teachers like Ogata-San taught to the children of Japan. The traditions that were instilled in the young Japanese children were things deemed mythological and lacked logic of science to back up their claims. These “lies of the most damaging kind” set the children up to believe in their nation and their superiority. This was an important critique by Shigeo because questioning the higher power could be dangerous. There are many times where scientific claims could get you killed or imprisoned if it did not match or went against the authority in power. Another thing to note is that “they were taught not to see,” meaning that they would always have an obscure vision towards Japan. An individual or entity in power remains in power by filtering out what their subjects should and need to know. By teaching children at an early age, they completely screen out all intents to ask questions. This creates a paradox between what the children are able to read from the newspaper and if the children are able to decode what truly is going on.

This cycle further perpetuates through the use of media. We know that media has played a strong role in both sides of the war as propaganda can be seen boosting the morale of the people. After the war, the media takes on a different form. Post-WWII Japan and the occupation of the U.S. meant the installation of capitalism and liberal ideals. Because U.S. was free to exploit Japan and use it as an economic and political sphere, the U.S. made it an interest to impose new and “correct values” to the Japanese. We see this in Shigeo’s thinking because he advocates the new process of thinking, even backing up the imprisoned “teachers” and believing they will help lead them to a “new dawn”.

This “new dawn” may see idealistic for Shigeo, but one thing even more interesting is whether women will play a big role in this new society. There is an engendering of a virgin Japan and how it was viewed as “her entire history” after being penetrated by “Little Boy” and “Fat Man.” It is also critical to note that Ogata-San and “men like [him]self” found a way to preserve the country and that Shigeo and “those men” are able to rebuild the country, yet there is no mention of women being a part of either ones. Perhaps this may be the newest “disaster” in their history, the lack of inclusion of women.

Jiro and his Coworkers (and other random ideas)

After finishing A Pale View of Hills it is apparent that the characters of the narrator’s constructed memory, are personifications or symbols of the multiple facets of the fewer people who actually exist.  In many anecdotes it seems that the different characters involved in either Sachiko or Etsuko’s life have mirrored or parallel roles, implying to me that they may have been the same person.  There are other instances where the characters seem to function as place holders for certain historical moments or eras in Japan.

The excerpt I’ve chosen to close read is going to pose more questions than answer them since I do not have enough knowledge of Japan’s social or political history, but the scene indicates a fissure between past and present through characters.  Chapter Four brings a lot of the defining characteristics of each time-space through the interaction of Ogata-San and Jiro and his coworkers. 

“You gentlemen are from Jiro’s firm?”  Ogata-San asked.

“Yes, indeed,” the tubby man replied.  “A great honour it is too, even if he does give us a tough time.  We call your son ‘Pharaoh’ in the office because he urges the rest of us to work like slaves while he does nothing himself.”

“What nonsense,” said my husband.

“It’s true.  He orders us around like we’re his dogsbodies.  Then he sits down and reads his newspaper.”

Ogata-San seemed a little confused, but seeing the others laugh he joined.”

(Ishiguro 61)

The tubby man’s description of Jiro’s leadership seems to confuse Ogata-San.  The man refers to Jiro as Pharaoh.  The use of this word draws a connection to ancient empire, but does not culturally correspond to Japan.  The man jests that Jiro does not work at all, but orders all of the work to be done by workers ranking lower than him.  Jiro does not react as though he is insulted, but with his “what nonsense” seems almost to be dismissing a compliment rather than a criticism.  The tubby man continues saying, “He orders us around like we’re his dogsbodies.  Then he sits down and reads his newspaper.”  This description seems to say that Jiro is rewarded at work not for his strong and impressive capabilities or work ethic, but for his ability to fill a leadership role and give orders.  His father is neglected most nights for Jiro to rest to go to work, designate work, and hang out.   Yet his coworkers are able to arrive drunk and laugh with him about their own exploitation.  I read this as a criticism from Ogata-San’s era of Jiro’s capitalist, americanized work environment, where productivity is rewarded above fairness or ability.  The fact that Jiro takes being called essentially a slave-driver as a compliment, and that his friends seem to respect him for it, makes for a confusing moral ground for Ogata San interpret.  

P.S.  I read these men as showing elements of Capitalism.  I’m hoping that is not incorrect.  But if it is, I see them as symbolizing the consumer-driven indulgent side of capitalism as well.  They show up drunk, over-indulged.  One of the men is tubby, possibly implying gluttony.  And Etsuko notices that these men have eaten all of her generously portioned cakes, again a greed or consumption.

Dream Sequence

" have found myself continually bringing to mind that picture — of my daughter hanging in her room for days on end. The horror of that image has never diminished, but it has long ceased to be a morbid matter; as with a wound on ones own body, it is possible to develop and intimacy with the most disturbing of things" (54)

Also to support the idea that the girl on the swing in the dream is a repressed memory of Keiko hanging, is when Etsuko describes the events leading up to going to the tea house with Niki, where she says she saw the child on the swing. She says, “I had not been out of the house for several days and enjoyed the feel of air as we stepped into the winding lane outside” (47). This is an interesting connection to the story Etsuko tells about learning of Keiko’s suicide, especially given that Etsuko says her first thought upon hearing the news that her daughter committed suicide was wondering how long she had been hanging before she was found. Etsuko dreams about a little girl, overwhelming influenced by British culture through her clothing, swinging, and thinks about the haunting picture of her daughter, hanging. Etsuko “continually” thinks of her daughter’s suicide and continually has the winging dream, not coincidentally. The difference is, when she admits to thinking of Keiko, it is with “horror,” and the dream is never implied to be an unhappy one, because the underlying meaning behind it is so repressed. Even in her subconscious, Etsuko has built up so much pain that she can’t dream about the reality, only a figment that is connected to the reality. The word Etsuko uses describes it perfectly — “intimacy.” This recurring dream is a way Etsuko intimately, yet distantly, deals with her motherly anguish and regret. By somehow comparing a girl happily playing on a swing, to her daughter’s lifeless body swaying from a rope, demonstrates not only Etsuko’s inability to cope with reality, but her way of coping through familiar images in her head. She describes the girl “standing on the seat of the swing, was pulling hard on the chains, but somehow she could not make the swing go higher,” again showing Keiko’s resistance to move and despite any action or words, being ignored — even if there was verbal assurance (48). This also stems from Etsuko not knowing the details or events surrounding Keiko’s death, and her eerie need to imagine what happen to get some sort of conclusion. Aside from the metaphor of Keiko’s resistance in this line, it also depicts Keiko standing on a chair, and her body pulling hard against the rope as she fell.

Etsuko describes the girl as “a cheerful little girl, dressed in a green mackintosh and small Wellington boots” (48). This description is important because it supports the theory that the girl on the swings could be a suppressed picture of Etsuko thinking about Keiko’s body hanging after her suicide. Etsuko never saw her daughter hanging, even though she replays the imagined version of the scene in her mind on multiple occasions. Mackintosh raincoats were iconic in the United Kingdom, and were the innovation of water-proofing by spreading rubber over cotton. Keiko was forced to move to Britain with her mother after the bombings. She was forced into the English culture and despite her apprehensions about moving, as portrayed in the ending scene with Mariko’s reluctance to move to the United States, her feelings essentially didn’t matter — they rolled off Etsuko like the rain rolls off the coat. More coincidentally since this move happened after A Pale View of the Hills was published, Mackintosh was bought by a Tokyo firm in 2007. As for the boots the girl in the scene is wearing, Wellington was a symbol for British aristocracy, and during World War II 80 percent of production was from war materials. The boots were a product of the war, and Keiko was a second-generation victim and remnant of the war.

--Alexa