Re: Seymour's Suicide

oconnort@nyu.edu
Sun, 13 Jul 1997 21:37:10 -0400 (EDT)

 
> with my opinions.  Like a lot of people on this list, I'm not a
> literature expert.  I'm just another regular person who loved CITR in
> high school, loved all the other Salinger books in college, and got a
> little depressed when I wasn't able to find any more Salinger books that
> I hadn't read.)

You're in good company here, I think.  We're all just regular people who
found our way here.

> Anyway, the thing that strikes me about Seymour's suicide is that he did
> it while Muriel was in the room sleeping.  There are hints throughout
> the story that he had intended to commit suicide for a while.  But why
> didn't he take the gun, find a secluded spot on the beach, and do it
> there?  Was he so disgusted with Muriel at this point that he wanted her
> to wake up to the sight of his head blown to bits all over the hotel
> room?  Seymour struck me as a person who didn't deliberately want to
> hurt anyone.  The thought of him putting a bullet through his brilliant
> (albeit tortured) brain bothers me immensely, but so does the thought of
> what Muriel will have to face when she wakes up.    

Yes, I've always thought that one of the most intriguing aspects about
"Bananafish" is what happens immediately after Seymour pulls the
trigger.  Muriel must wake up -- to what?  Most of us respond to a
disruption of sleep in confusion.  ("Did I dream it or was that a
bang?")  Of course, her instant reaction -- no matter how "good" or
"bad" a person she is -- would likely be horror, shock, revulsion, 
probably panic.  The abrupt ending of the story, which has an impact
like driving a car into a concrete wall, is one element that gives 
the story its power and its drama and its ambiguity.
 
> Am I weird to feel sorry for Muriel (I know, it's like feeling sorry for
> the section man or some of the pretentious guys at Pency Prep), or does
> anyone else feel that way too?

No, you're not unusual at all.  It's a natural reaction to wonder about
this.  One way of looking at it is that Seymour is by that last moment 
so self-absorbed that he is virtually unaware of what he is about to do to
her.  Another is the opposite extreme: that he is quite aware of what he
is about to do, and that this is his way of punishing her or playing out
his hostile feelings.  And there are probably a thousand subtle
gradations between these extremes.  (I admit that I read the story
differently depending on my own mood. Some days I can imagine him
pursuing sweet escape; others I can envision him believing that he is
about to enter a different spiritual plane, the next logical plane for a
man of his mind.)  I hasten to add that I'm simplifying things extremely
for the sake of being brief.

This element of ambiguity provides the story with a rich texture; here 
we are discussing it nearly fifty years after it was published, without
any clear indication, one way or the other, about Seymour's reason for
his action!

--tim o'connor