Friday, January 25, 2013

Hugo, Merajver and the Manifestation of Angst

I return to my tattered copy of  Les Misérables and begin again with Monseigneur Bienvenu and the travails of Jean Valjean. The verb 'to read' seems a wholly inadequate description of my interaction with this narrative:
implying a superficial, restrained skimming of the surface of printed ink....with Hugo, however, one descends beneath the membrane to the throbbing pulse of things, embroiled and immersed in the emotional and social turbulence of nineteenth-century France.

I have been thinking about the manifestation of character angst - and the degree to which it is conveyed via internal monologue or through outwardly observed action. The scene that lingers in my mind from a previous reading of Les Misérables is that in which Valjean paces his candelit room beset with mental agonies: to reveal himself as 24601 and exchange his honorable life as Mayor of Montreuil-sur-mer for the ignominious despair of prison: "the chain gang and the convict-smock, the plank bed and the cell, all the horrors that he knew;" a confession that would entail abandonment of the multitude that depended upon his business and charity; or alternatively by remaining silent he consigned an innocent to the darkness of a living hell in his place. Through the course of this chapter (entitled 'A Tempest in a Human Skull') Valjean is possessed by a furious tumult of fear, despair and agonized indecision.

 His character (sombre, silent and brooding, fused and defined by the interminable years of imprisonment) proceeds through the novel, gently but firmly rebuffing Cosette in her bid to understand the taciturn man that had become her father: his enigmatic travels, his intermittent melancholy, and their resolute isolation. Jean Valjean is, necessarily, an intensely private individual and the reader is provided a privileged insight into his innermost feelings only when he examines them himself in the quietness of solitude. The ebb and flow of his meditations exist as darkly-swift undercurrents; emotional riptides on which the reader is a half-drowned companion; an essential inclusion, for as we have already noted Valjean is a master of countenance-control, his turbulence of mind scarcely perceptible in the icy exterior.

Several nights ago I also completed Just Toss the Ashes by Marta Merajver; an intensely brilliant psychological novel that investigates suicide and its aftermath. It details the angst of a woman who has endured an abusive childhood at the hands of an egocentric mother - and the impact that traumatizes the next generation. This novel serves, predominately through the perspective of the embittered son, to illustrate the complexity of privacy, of the individual ways in which one compartmentalizes family issues and the insecurities that accompany abuse.

Obviously these books are utterly disparate in every respect, separated by a thematic, geographic and chronological divide; Victor Hugo, a French Romantic whose hefty tome details the plight of the poor in nineteenth century Paris, and Marta Merajver, an Argentinian writer whose slim contemporary novel examines suicide and the hidden depths of self; however it seems in recent reading of both of these works, an element that I find intriguing is the manner in which these two authors treat character angst. Jean Valjean's afflictions are privately revealed, the reader comprises an audience of one, often an exclusive witness to the extent and nature of his sufferings; we gain unprecedented access to his internal monologue, are intimately intertwined with his emotional state, and a fierce adherent to his cause. This insinuation into the tortured monologue of a private man, one who has been unjustly served by the overzealous application of the law, serves as a brilliant mechanism to secure the attention and advocacy of reader.

Merajver's primary character is already deceased at the opening pages of her novel, however Sylvia Meyer proceeds to enthrall and engage through the subsequent narrative despite the pointed lack of internal monologue that characterized Valjean (albeit there is a brief European interlude where her youthful voice is heard); the intriguing point here is that this character is initially depicted in all her strident venom and strife, full of sound and fury, and it is not until later in the novel that one begins to understand the complicated composite that is Sylvia. This growing awareness of cause and motivation is provided not by the primary character herself, but through the various perspectives of friend, husband, son and occasionally via letter through the deceased herself. While Sylvia is undoubtedly the dynamic force within the narrative, her angst, her ferocity of emotional turmoil and despair is brilliantly chronicled through the slant of third-party perspective. So the reader, as well as the son (whose journey we accompany in search for the 'truth') is left with a multitude of filtered still-shots with which to resurrect the essence that was Sylvia.

Character angst and the degree and manner in which it is utilized within the narrative remains a literary element of profound interest to me. Perhaps because internal strife, stress and self-reflection seem inextricably a part of thinking man (and woman), and an aspect of novels which facilitates an almost immediate empathetic connection with its readership. Reading these two novels in close proximity, I was struck by the disparate manner in which each author conveyed character angst - both effective in their own distinct way, viscerally engaging the reader within the turbulent mindset of their primary characters.

18 comments:

  1. I am on a major LES MIS jag. A book to live with, not read once. I had loved this musical once. The thousand condensations now seem painful, more like parodies.

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    1. Thank you Brandon for your visit and your most interesting comment - I agree entirely in regards to the novel - I have read it a multitude of times and doubtless the tattered (and most beloved) copy I own will be perused many more times during my lifetime...I am an exceptionally hard critic of movies-made-from-literature - particularly when the book is much loved - so much is excised in the process that the original seems a whole other thing entirely.

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  2. Dear PJ,

    I have to agree that, there is nothing more humanizing than to have the angst jump off the page to make a character come alive. When an author achieves a level of "third degree burn" in my book (the first degree being undeniable physical characteristics and facial recognition; the second degree is having an emotional connection by way of unique personality and character attributes), which is to say the deep psychological rumblings of struggle that somehow contribute to the conflict in the story that must be overcome (or not), and a plausible yet exclusive expression of that individual's innermost thoughts by way of innovative linguistic perspective.

    When the "three degrees" burn a hole in my reading experience then I am convinced that the work is worthy, masterful, captivating and enjoyable.

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    1. Thank you Shari - I love your analogy and your 'deep psychological rumblings' !! Your turn of phrase is utterly exquisite! I am most grateful to your for both stopping by my humble musings and gracing them with your most elegant and insightful commentary - I am so very much obliged!!

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  3. PJ,I'm humbled. Thank you so much for your deep analysis and comprehension of my technique, not to mention that to see my name next to Hugo's -an impossible model to emulate- makes me wonder what I've done right :)

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    1. Thank you Marta - I so enjoyed your work and was keen to go a little deeper in the course of a musing - thank you for writing it! And for being such an inspiring literary influence for me!

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  4. Thoroughly enjoyed your post, PJ, as always! I have read neither of these novels and greatly look forward to doing so! Keep writing, loving your prose!

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    1. Thank you Sarah - yes both novels to be highly recommended! Thank you so much for stopping by and for following my musings with such enthusiasm and support!

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  5. I wonder if I'll ever be able to depict Angst. It's Angst that made me start writing in the first place. To me it is connected with nothingness, annihilation, living death and so on. But these posts made me think again: it's probably a childish illusion that I left Angst behind by merely trimming my sails to the winds of fiction. But the idea I should actually write about it fills me with awe: the fear of the player having to reveal his hidden cards maybe?

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    1. But perhaps it is by revealing your hidden cards that invites immediate visceral empathy in a reader who has a similar stack of aces up their sleeves :) And what could be more powerful than that? i think there is a vulnerability professed that unites all humanity and which then renders the characters struggles to recognize/overcome so much more poignantly expressive...

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  6. So true... Hope to get there within this life, PJ

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  7. Only now, I finished "Just Tosh the Ashes". It took me less than 24 hours - I could not put the book down. Not because it was 'a good read': it was revolting rather than good. And not because it contained lovable characters: it did not (with the possible exception of Jaime). I couldn't lay it aside because Merajver, like few other authors, proves Kafka was right when he wrote that divine line...

    'Literature is like an ax on the frozen sea in us'.

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  8. (2)
    Revolting, he wrote.
    And beautiful, of a sombre, Sartrean grandeur... Sylvia Meyer compellingly displays Angst, and yet I do not believe Angst is the primary theme. It is love. Either love or nothing - the very nothing that horror-house called life is without it.

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    1. Gorgeous depiction of Merajver's work Pim. Perhaps the angst pertains to life without love? The emotional reaction to the horror-house you refer to? Thank you dear friend for your wonderful commentary and for deigning to read my humble musings!

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  9. Aaand I am back into LES MIS. Just flat out inexhaustible!

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    1. It is indeed Brandon - perhaps that is part of its recurring appeal, and certainly one that pulls me back again and again....I only lament that Hugo did not publish more...greedy as I am for his sublime narrative voice! Thank you for your visit Brandon, and your wonderful comment.

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  10. What an extraordinary accomplishment...

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