September 21, 2009

I found Vice's explanation of polyphony very interesting. I immediately thought of J.M. Barrie's Peter Pan, which I think has one of the most unique narrators in fiction. I wrote a paper on that narrator for a class last year, but I wish I had read Bakhtin before that. In Peter Pan, the narrator is obviously (and humorously) intrusive. At one point, the narrator is describing how exactly Hook uses his hook to kill. The narrator then says, "Let us now kill a pirate" and immediately a pirate is brought forward and Hook obediently kills him. This narrator is not recounting a story that has taken place, but is actually creating the story as he (or she, but really I think it's a he) is telling it. Vice cites that Bakhtin has commented on the polyphony within Dostoevsky: "the author's discourse about a character is organized as discourse about someone actually present, someone who hears him (the author) and is capable of answering him." Barrie's text is not polyphonic because the characters do not have control over their actions. What is unique about Barrie's text, however, is that the narrator is so obviously, and playfully, in control.

As I began again with Burroughs, I wanted to apply some of this polyphonic discussion to that text. I realized, however, that I don't think we have discussed Burroughs too much as a narrator. I am not sure what historical evidence we have about the writing of this memoir. Do we know that Burroughs is the author? Is he the sole author? I was also very curious in this reading about all of the letters Burroughs included. I do not really trust Burroughs that those letters are entirely, or perhaps even partially, accurate. Those letters are also an interesting piece of dialogism. They are the words of one person as read, interpreted, and reprinted by their intended reader, then read, interpreted, and reprinted by an unintended reader (an editor), and then finally read and interpreted by me. How much of their original intent must have been lost through all of these filters? 

I found that most of those letters were curiously flattering of Burroughs. His wife's plea to the court was especially vexing. He admits in his memoir to having sexual relations with one of his students, but his wife insists on how excellent a husband he is and that he should be released from prison for her sake. Although I was frustrated with both Burroughs and her, I did find that her plea brought an interesting (and I think largely unintentional) feminist issue into the text. Her plea points out the hopeless situation of women who must rely on their husbands for sole economic stability. Burroughs's text overall is largely egotistical and self-serving, but the inclusion of this letter does show a larger political problem. Burroughs attempts to be political and philosophical with his rants against the government and the court system for the injustices he has faced (he compares himself to slaves- really?), but I think that his wife's letter more compellingly argues a real problem in the early republic. What is a woman to do when her husband turns out to be a selfish, counterfeiting, sexual predator?

On his more philosophical musings, I thought it was interesting that a con man would agree so much with Confucius. Burroughs writes about benevolence, and he believes that the state should treat its subjects as children. He believes that children will mirror their parents' benevolence, and thus they will be deterred from crime. Confucius had the same thoughts about leadership, but I'm also pretty sure that Confucius did not have as much trouble with the law. Burroughs repetition of a great thinker's thoughts creates another interesting dialogic question. What happens when an utterance is dialogically responding and interacting with a previous utterance made by a very different person? To what extent does the identity of the speaker affect the meaning of an utterance? Burroughs may not be the most trusted or reliable narrator, but does that make his words any less true? Perhaps benevolence really is the best way to lead, not just the most convenient solution for Burroughs.