For the first time since I graduated from high school, I was assigned a set book to read. Most of all it made me nostalgic for my literature classes, listening to my teacher (probably one of the cleverest man I've ever met), riding in the bus completely exhausted but still reading them books on my Kindle, playing the Cure on my headphones. Yeah, what a time. However, it's just like Sufjan Stevens is singing: The past is still the past./The bridge to nowhere. So let's move onto the Crucible, shall we?
One of the main goals of a story is to evoke certain feelings in a reader; the most common one may be an empathy towards a protagonist, or, analogically, an apathy towards an antagonist. A writer has a difficult task because the means of a written story are very limited, they only have words. Despite that, there is one powerful tool that can be made of them, a tool that every human craves and loves, a tool that can cause the most devout love and the most passionate contempt: a narrative.
Many things are said by many people about human nature. The majority of what is said is nihilistic, capitalism-rotted, and straight up false. Greed doesn't lay in our nature, our hearts are not corrupted by evil forces, and we certainly do care about our fellow humans (and more). What could possibly be found in our programming, though, is this intrusive need to seek patterns, motifs, to carry on with this ongoing tale about our lives. Our minds are tormented by this crave of narration, and that is why it holds so much power. It was Seneca who said “We suffer more in imagination than in reality.”; Stoics believe that with a proper mindset, a proper narrative in one's head, suffering can be overcome. It may happen on a macro scale as well, how else the wars are started if not by creating antagonistic stories about “the others” who should be feared but most favourably destroyed? But narrative is not only the bad things that happen. It is also joy coming from children's books, survivors' poetry overflown with hope, laughter provoked by well-phrased satires and comedies.
So, as we can see, words in skilful hands can be enough to manipulate the reader into desirable reactions. This is why we sympathise with Rodion Raskolnikov in “Crime and punishment”, even though he killed two old women. This is why we are sincerely moved when Uncle Iroh sings for his late son in “Avatar: the Last Airbender”, even though he committed war crimes. This is why we fear and are little repulsed when Buka once again approaches the Moomin's house, even though in reality she should be pitied. And, finally, this is why we sympathise with John Proctor from “the Crucible”, even though… Yeah, exactly, even though what?
Let's start with the broader context, how Arthur Miller sneakily reverses the roles in his play. The community depicted in the play is an orthodox one. They are Puritans, settlers from Britain, who escaped the king, so that they could worship their God however they pleased. Strict rules are upheld, and every member of the community is low-key obliged not only to obey them, but also to monitor the others. There is no margin for any mistake since every wrong doing is a sin, a sin is a crime, and a crime is a sin. The judges who arrive to settle the witchcraft case are honouring God's law, and the girls, the accusers, are said to be the God's fingers. Yet, despite all of that, they are the ones with more connections with the feared Satan than the accused. The accusers are the ones involved in voodoo practises, in an attempt to take an innocent woman's life, and not the people they accused. The judges are pressing people to tell lies, cause harm to others, and sign one's name in their books, not the Satan. It's really quite ironic.
Just like in any other story where evil forces try to win, there are also the servants of the good. The main protagonist in “The Crucible” is John Proctor. A man described as even-tempered, powerful of body, respected in his village. Later on, he falls a victim to the unfair decision made by the judges after his attempt to rescue his wife and help his friends. He becomes some sort of martyr as he withdraws from confessing and sacrifices his life for the truth. Yes, very tragic, very sad. But did we skip the part where he makes a decision that leads to that whole hysteria, and murders, and whatnots?
Because, well, he brought it on himself; none of it would happen if John Proctor didn't decide to cheat on his wife with his teenage servant. I am mentioning Abigail's age only to point out the advantage of a fully-developed frontal lobe he had over her. Teenage years of every individual are cursed by some irrational thoughts and actions. It's nothing surprising that an orphaned teen girl became obsessed with a respected older man who must have showed some interest in her (I may think of you softly from time to time.). It was Proctor's responsibility to recognise his actions and prevent the situation from further development, but he didn't, and we know how it eventually ended.
But I didn't come here to demonise John Proctor's figure. I came here to point out how powerful narrative can be. It is revealed before the final scenes that Proctor had an affair with Abigail, but it doesn't stop a reader from feeling for him when his wife is convicted, when he tries for the last time to rectify the situation. We pity him because we hear his story. Miller presents us with Proctor's tragedy, just like Dostoevsky doesn't spare the readers very long and vivid descriptions of Raskolnikov's agony. All of that gives these characters human faces, and it makes us feel things. Always. We are social creatures; no matter how individualistic the society, this gene of empathy prevails. And combined with a narrative? Phew, man. You can get away with any crime, ask the Bryan Fuller's Hannibal Lecter about it.
It's not entirely harmful when it happens in fiction. A problem forms when we experience such manipulations in our everyday life. It matters what words are used to tell certain stories because through them, we navigate this world. Writers consciously choose their words to present their vision as precisely as possible, and so should we. We will never achieve full understanding of each other, and rarely there is a perfect verbalisation of our thoughts and emotions, but we shall never lose our consciousness. That provides us clarity of our intentions so we remain the ones controlling a narrative and not the other way around.
No comments:
Post a Comment