Sunday, January 18, 2009

A Letter to Kindly Yet Deranged Sigmund Freud

Dear Dr. Sigmund Freud,

I am Dr. Wilhelm Français. We met briefly once at the psychiatric convention in Vienna. We conversed on the subject of cocaine and its uses. I still insist, it is a very addictive and the chances of overdose are far too high for my comfort as a doctor. Nonetheless, I am not writing to you to continue this repartee.

It has come to my attention that you, after seeing the recent revival of Sophocles’s Oedipus the King, posited a recent theory regarding sexual development.

Truly, the play was a moving piece of literature—a tragedy indeed. Sophocles was an extraordinary playwright. He is a stubborn and great leader to the Thebans. It was deeply touching to witness his incredible human strength against the obstacles that stood between him and the truth, and even more to endure it. He accepts responsibility for all his actions. I admire him for his integrity, remaining true to his word and pursuing the truth even it led to his ultimate downfall. Never, I believe, has a character existed who is noble, courageous, and strong as poor Oedipus.

I confess, however, that I was perturbed by your interpretations of Oedipus’s conflict and the compassion that we feel for him. In your recent article “The Destiny of Oedipus,” you describe your curiosity in the similarities between the modern and contemporary Greek reactions. You thought that there must be a deeper and more profound significance to our feeling moved. You finally concluded, “His destiny moves us only because it might have been ours—because the oracle laid the same curse upon us before our birth as upon him” (1355). You propounded the notion that Oedipus’s story and destiny shows the fulfillment of our own inner wishes—to have sex with our mother and to kill our father. Apparently, we fear our fathers because they will castrate us. Your argument is fairly well developed albeit not well supported.

It is impossible for me to respond subtly, so I will get straight to the point: what the hell?! I have no desire whatsoever to think about my mother—may she rest in peace forever—in a sexual manner. I am certain that those sexual impulses did not exist either when I was a young man. I love my wife dearly, and I have never loved or desired any one like her. I find it difficult to believe that most boys would be attracted to their mothers, much less to kill their fathers. Even if those feelings existed and were to become suppressed, as you say they do, the mere notion is preposterous. The love we feel for our mothers is truly unique, yet it transcends animalistic, lusty feelings. In addition, our fathers are another recipient of love and admiration.

Moreover, thinking of Oedipus, how could Oedipus have been inclined to sexually desire his mother? Oedipus initially has no idea that Iocastê is his biological mother, and the man he kills, Oedipus believes, is a stranger on the road. He believes that he has run away from his true parents. When Oedipus finally discovers the truth about his past, my heart wrenched in pain for him. However, I, in no way, believe that I could have been him. My compassion for Oedipus stems from my admiration for human strength and courage and my wish for others to feel no pain. Even more venerable is Oedipus’s realization that true human happiness is based on an illusion.

I might be willing to concede that cocaine is acceptable because of its benefits for surgical patients, but I refuse to accept this new theory about Oedipus and psychosexual development. I say this with the utmost respect possible: you would do well to discard this theory. It is entirely perverted, and I a fear that others may condemn you as a lunatic.

Otherwise, I hope that you are doing well in your psychiatric research. May we have the pleasure of meeting again soon. Thank you for your time and patience.

From,
Dr. Wilhelm Français
(672)

Monday, January 12, 2009

The Boy is the Key

Vasya Ivanovich Golovin, Ivan Ilych's son, is a seemingly unimportant character. However, if you look closely at his appearances in The Death of Ivan Ilych, Vasya adds an essential aspect to Tolstoy's novel. While Ivan's schoolboy son has one of the smallest roles and does not speak in Tolstoy's story, his presence is memorable and significant because he is portentous and almost greater than human.

The story's central focus is on the mental, emotional, and spiritual battle that plagues Ivan Ilych's inner being. Ilych struggles to discover the cause of his illness. Finally, he determines that he is sick because he has not led the life that he was supposed to lead, and instead it was full of falsities and meaningless societal expectations that he embraced. Yet, Ivan has trouble accepting this explanation to be the root of his sickness. He rejects the idea, thinking, "How could that be, when I did everything properly?" (304). A couple of weeks later, the possiblity that Ilych failed at life occurred to him again when he sits with Gerasim one evening. Ilych tries to defend his life's actions, but he realized that "there was nothing to defend" (325). Then, the screaming begins. As he screams, Ilych thinks of two things: 1) the fear of his inevitable death, and 2) the horror that he feels for living a life that has been deceitful. Ivan finally stops screaming when he recognizes that he can rectify the situation and seeks to discover the right way to live.

When Ivan stops screaming, he remains in a trance. However, Vasya touches Ivan’s hand, and the touch draws Ivan out of his stupor. In both this scene and the scene before the family leaves for the play, Vasya does not speak but emanates an overwhelming sensation that Ilych feels. The father relates his son to Gerasim, the only other person in the novel who represents honesty and liberation from societal conformity and falsities. Vasya and Gerasim are the only characters who feel real human pity for Ivan. The other family members are full of self-pity, and Ivan's "intimate acquaintances" are self-centered, feel awkward at Ilych's funeral, and seek to obtain his official position. These low-lifes, these self-serving characters starkly contrast the two figures of light and true humanity as well as Ivan Ilych, who is caught precariously and painfully in the middle. Ilych experiences the tension and the pull between society and his conscience. Ultimately, Ilych fully earns our pity and compassion when he firmly decides to follow his conscience.

Vasya is a crucial character in this story for a number of reasons. Firstly, as I said before, Vasya creates a clear contrast between societal deceit and human love. The narrator's tone unambiguously condemns the falsity by, for example, portraying Ilych's wife and daughter with haughty personalities and by demeaning them in the story's subtext and word choice. Secondly, Vasya's appearance at Ilych's funeral and his demeanor hint that there is a negative quality to Peter Ivanovich's presence at the funeral. When Vasya saw Peter, he "scowled morosely" (48). And finally, Vasya "awakes" his father from the screaming trance in the final moments of the story. The boy's touching gestures—the kissing and crying—further display the human love that the boy represents. In addition, Vasya's actions convince Ilych and the reader that love is the "right way" to live life.

Tolstoy's title "The Death of Ivan Ilych" suggests that it is a grim and tragic story. And it is, but we learn that there is a much deeper and very profound message embedded in the plot that is intertwined with the characters. Ultimately, the story contains a mildly happy, and Vasya reminds us that death is pleasant and meaningful if we live with genuine, human love in our hearts. (631)