Re: Clinamen beginagain

Brendan McKennedy (suburbantourist@hotmail.com)
Thu, 15 Jan 1998 23:47:10 -0800 (PST)

>
>>I'd like to take on the "Why did Seymour Kill himself" entry.  I have 
such
>>violent opinions on the matter, and I now have two quarters worth of
>>experience testing my you're-supposed-to-think-at-the-end-of-the-
>>story-that-Seymour-was-going-to-shoot-Muriel theory on uninitiated
>>Salinger readers.  


I'm not really positive what you mean here; that is, are you 
suggesting that we SHOULD think Seymour was about to kill
Muriel, or that we SHOULDN'T?  It doesn't really change the
topic much, it'd just be nice to know your opinion.

Personally, I don't think Salinger meant us to think Seymour
would kill Muriel.  Perhaps it's only because I can't imagine
ANYONE wanting to kill Muriel (no, that's not sarcastic; yes,
I am still very Taken with her character).  But I also believe
that there was simply too little space in which to think it.
What I mean is, the place on the page where Seymour pulls out 
his gun is about an inch away from the place on the page where
he uses it.  (Sorry to put it so prosaically, but I wasn't sure
how else to articulate it.)  I don't think the reader really
has time in reading to consider it.

Unless, of course, you mean that after having finished the 
story, should a reader be left with the impression that Seymour
HAD been about to kill Muriel, but changed his mind at the last
minute?  That, I think, potentially has a lot of veracity, but mostly 
only within the context of that story alone.

In that story, we are led to believe via Mrs. Fedder and Muriel that 
Seymour is sick in his blessed noggin, that he's been to Germany
(which of course implies he fought in the war), and that, 
from a psychoanalytical view, he can be considered dangerous.  THEN,
through Seymour's own actions, we see that he is hiding himself
(in the bathrobe), is more comfortable with children than with 
adults, and is extremely volatile and agitable, as shown in the
elevator.  Is that a set-up for a potential killer?  It very well could 
be.  

The only source outside of the story that can support this is
his throwing the rock at Charlotte--which, I'll admit, is a very
imporant and solid source.  But elsewhere outside the story, we
see how much Seymour loves Muriel--and not for her very outward
Buddhist lifestyle, but rather for her very worldly (read 
"superficial") words and actions.

But even in light of that, did he think she was too 
perfect, in the same way that he perhaps thought Charlotte was
too perfect?  I think some credence can and probably should be 
found in that, although some very unproveable feeling I get
tells me that that is not the case.  Of course, feelings about
literature are very easily impugned, but no so easily deterred
in the feeler. 

Am I getting anywhere with this, or have I just gone on for
half an eon while entirely missing the point?

I don't know.  I still don't think Seymour meant to kill Muriel.
I have my own very strong ideas about Seymour's suicide, which
I've posted many times before, and which I'm glad to post again.
(Thought you were safe, did you?)  I think Seymour loved the
world too much, which interfered with his Dharma--his Dharma 
being to not be attached to this world and keep on with his
Dharma, which is loopy in more ways than one, perhaps, but it's
what I think.  Anyway, I borrow heavily from "Teddy" for this
explanation, since Teddy told us that Americans like the world too
much to further their spiritual development.  I think the 
fable of the bananafish meant that Seymour loved bananas so
much that he couldn't get out of the hole, which was his life,
so all that was left to do was die.

An interesting thing to consider is that everything we know
about Seymour, we really know through Buddy.  This is where
things get wierd (just here?), because I don't really think
that Salinger wanted Buddy to be an omniscient narrator, even
if Buddy himself thought he was.  I think Salinger wanted to
give us the story of the Glasses through a very slanted window,
so we would love them before we began to think about them--which,
if that is the case, Salinger achieved.  But then when the time
comes to think about them, things become very complicated, since
just because Buddy tells his stories with complete love, he doesn't
necessarily tell them with complete honesty--which he himself 
stresses in Seymour: An Introduction.

God, I've gone on far too long.  Please somebody shut me up with
something brilliant.

Brendan

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