Seymour and Sybil again
Mattis Fishman (mattis@argos.argoscomp.com)
Wed, 11 Feb 1998 15:09:41 -0500 (EST)
What color is a bananafish?
yellow in the likeness of desire?
a rosy pink as fate and happiness conspire?
or perhaps a paler shade to match their deathly wish?
But my ever hungry eyes tell me at present
this elusive, subtle fish is irridescent
Hello friends,
Well, this post is going to be personal, and probably long, so those
of you (of us) who have no stomach for this kind of thing might as well
go and grab a snack and come back for the next post. Or if you've
never given away a Davega bicycle, go do it now and come back.
Jonathan asked if we somehow identify in our actions with some of
JDS's characters. It would be so easy to answer that I've never stopped
doing just that, which would be both an answer and a demonstration. But
more truthfully, it is hard to know just how much one absorbs when drinking
down a good piece of literature, and so it came as a shock, rereading
the collected works a short year ago to see how so much of myself that
I had considered "me" was plagarism. I got the eerie feeling that someone
had traced my life like M. Yoshoto and laid the sheets between some
book covers; but the tracings, with their corrections, of course, only
showed how flawed the drawings were. A lot had been assimilated over
the years, yet there is a long way to continue. So it goes. I can
give one piece of advice, though. That Seymour's advice in Hapworth
regarding becoming a juggler:
If it is too damn hot for juggling, at least carry some of your
favorite juggling objects, those of reasonable size, about with you
in your pockets during the stifling day.
applies to acquiring any sort of advancement, spiritual or other.
Well, if that is not personal enough, and it really isn't
todavía no has visto nada.
It is amazing how much I view my own marriage in the light of
Seymour's relationship with Muriel. Or perhaps it's the other way around.
Every time the weather changes, as my Muriel sends me along the roller
coaster, I say to myself "so that's what Seymour was up to". I have posted
a few of these observations, to your gracious and humbling quiet reception.
You still there? let me recollect. On a (rare) good day, I submitted
the "Somebody shoot me now, I'm happy" theory (one step beyond the
unable to handle an overabundance of emotion theory). On a day
of reconciliation, I suggested that Seymour learned from Sybil to
view a flaw as a component of innocence, rather than its corruption.
This fellow, some of you may have remarked, seems to change his mind
a lot about a stupid story, but I assure you, that every one of these
small waves started as some slight trembling in a human heart.
This phenomenon, you probably surmised is the inspiration for the
little poem above.
[aside: maybe this post is an experiment, can I convince anyone that there
really another person sitting somewhere at a keyboard (a fact that many of
you grammar checkers might remember sometime).]
Anyway, the most patent explanation, that Seymour killed himself in
despair, would go along with the not-so-hot married days. But of course,
no one needed me to suggest this theory, so I've been kind of quiet
on days like those. Well, today is one of them (one of series for those
keeping score at home), but why should I suffer alone? Let me burden
my patient (if pedantic and subtly condescending friends) with another
implausible explanation for Seymour's suicide (though not, thankfully
you say, with the poem about the widower and the cat - it's not finished,
though it's amazing how entering this mood I immediately gravitated to
that subject matter, and grasped the theme at once).
So this latest suggestion only comes to those who've had the patience
to get this far (and here should come the obligatory self-effacing "and
that's probably no one", but I'll let that slide). But first, an observation,
or a question.
JDS makes a nice case for undiscriminating love and acceptance. I
don't think I need to document this. If you don't exactly like the label,
consider that Seymour saw many traits in Muriel that did not find
admirable in themselves, but for which he loved Muriel as being so
human. Yet I can think of nowhere in Salinger's works that we find
a satisfying, mutually loving relationship where each participant
fully accepts the other. Seymours loves Muriel, Muriel loves marriage.
Joanie's eyes were far from green, and her affection far from her
husband. Uncle Wiggly anyone? Franny? Salinger's heros may love
fat ladies and pimps but do the fat ladies reciprocate?
In fact, the unselfish loving gift of Esme is such a rarity that it had
the power to restore faculties in someone previously incapable of
even scribbling a quote about a loveless Hell. And it is not
insignificant that only in children do we find the capability of
total acceptance displayed.
This leads us to Sybil. Funny robe, nose, feet are no problem. Seymour
does not just enjoy childish exuberance, but actually needs the childlike
love and acceptance which he does not get from Muriel. But if I once
suggested that the words "without regret" carried much of the meaning here,
I now propose that they be dethroned by "Hey!". Far from being
a pedophile, Seymour was simply testing the depth of her acceptance of
him with a loving gesture. When Sybil inevitably draws a line somewhere,
as there must always be a line, Rainer, Seymour realizes that he cannot
ever attain what his particular type of starving soul requires.
Now, this is probably not a new thought, that Salinger's characters are
almost universally unloved, but I hope some of you can comment on it.
Why, I can comment on it myself, and my first question is, are we
being showed failed, flawed characters, or if not flawed, unfortunate
in their lack of receiving affection. Or, is the point exactly the opposite,
that one must love unselfishly and never even hope for anything in return?
Do we explain the two Seymour theory by saying that Salinger grew from
the first point of view to the second? Can a real, non-divine, person
attain the loss of all expectations of love?
Well, I guess I must still practice juggling.
Love,
Mattis
p.s. I have put in a lot of time and self here, so please forgive me in case
I don't respond right away to any sympathetic or other replies or follow ups.
I really have to get back to work. Thank you for your patience.