Re-reads
Dom Casmurro – Machado de
Assis (Portuguese)
This novel, published in
Brazil in 1900 and written by a grandson of a slave, is strange in both its
approach and its construction. Machado first tries to make it seem that Bento,
the main character, is speaking to the reader. All first-person novels take this
tack, but not with the insistence found here. Bento often comments on what he’s
telling us. One example, from the second page: when explaining how he got the
nickname of Casmurro, he tells us, “Don’t look it up in the dictionary,” for
the definition there, he finds, is not fitting. He explains what it means in
his case, which is “a quiet person who keeps himself to himself.” This quiet
person, a man in his sixties who lives alone, is going to tell us the story of
his life solely because he wants to relive the past. Or, more specifically, to
evoke “a celebrated November afternoon that I have never forgotten.” Then he
adds, “Read on and you will understand what I mean.” So I read on and was soon
introduced to Capitu, a neighbor girl he had known and played with since
childhood. But he has reached the age of fifteen, she fourteen, and feelings
change. He combs her hair on that celebrated November afternoon, and a kiss
follows. A kiss he will never forget. Capitu is a very strong character. She
seems, from what she says and by her actions, to be intelligent, determined and
manipulative. More of a woman than a girl. The two vow to get married, but
there’s a hitch: his widowed mother’s first child, a boy, had been born dead,
and she had made an oath to God that if her second child were a boy, and lived,
she would destine him for the priesthood. Since Bento is an obedient and loving
son, there’s that dilemma to be solved. It is, eventually, and he and Capitu
get married. But I wondered, from the beginning, how Bento reached old age
alone and isolated. The answer emerges late in the narrative; in between there
are many digressions, side issues – too many. And there’s a skipping of huge
gaps of time; an abruptness sets into the narrative. Capitu largely disappears as
the vibrant presence she was for that one scene (a fact which may have
significance). The novel is considered to be a masterpiece of Brazilian
literature. I found it original and engaging, but in some vital way frustratingly
inexplicable. In the end I didn’t understand Bento – the man “speaking” to me.
3
A Member of the Wedding –
Carson McCullers
It took McCullers five years
to write Member. In a letter she told her husband “It’s one of those
works that the least slip could ruin,” and that she had worked over some parts
“as many as twenty times.” In my opinion, she should have spent another month working to delete whole sections. All of Frankie’s ultra-sensitive musings
needed to go. No human being ever indulged in such delusional thinking. Even
the whole premise of the book – Frankie’s intention to live with her newly
married brother and his bride, for them to be a threesome – is such a silly
idea that I can’t believe any twelve-year-old girl would ever entertain it. Also
needing deletion is the whole business with the soldier – again, no twelve -year-old
girl would act so stupidly (nor would the soldier). Lastly, delete the entire final
Part Three, all twenty-some pages. It wraps things up in a highly unsatisfying
way (and does so by using the gratuitous death of one of the characters). What
is left after all these deletions? There’s the kitchen where Frankie and
Bernice and John Henry sit and talk and interact. This is wonderful. Bernice
(the Black cook) serves to blunt Frankie’s extreme words and actions. Bernice is
by far the strongest character in the novel, and McCullers should be given credit
for creating her. There’s not much to John Henry, except a sweet, unformed
little boy (he’s the one who gets sacrificed in Part Three). The atmosphere of
a small Southern town is nicely evoked. So there are pluses. The book didn’t
get much of an audience, but the play and the film (which I saw, and liked very
much) and the TV version made the story famous. I won’t delete this novel, due
to its strengths. 2
A Member of the Wedding: A
Play – Carson McCullers
This play version happened to
be available at my local library. Reading it was quite a surprise. McCullers
pretty much fixed all the problems I noted in my review of the novel. Did she
see the light? Did someone give her guidance? (The primary candidate is Tennessee
Williams, who encouraged her to do a play version and who helped her in writing
the beginning.) Did the restrictions of staging benefit in not allowing all
that indulgence in Frankie’s musings? The set keeps us in a single location:
the kitchen, where the novel was at its strongest, and where we only get to
hear what Frankie says and see what she does. Bernice is given the major role
she deserves; John Henry is more developed; the soldier is eliminated entirely.
The premise – wanting to be a member of the wedding – is presented in a more
reasonable way. In other words, there’s an overall toning down of the
extravagances. A few characters that were only referred to in the novel make brief
appearances – mainly Frankie’s brother and the bride-to-be. This was a
stabilizing element, because in the novel they came across as mythical figures.
Three good actors could do something with this material, and Ethel Waters,
Julie Harris and Brandon de Wilde (at age seven!) surely carried it off
admirably. The play ran for 501 performances and won the New York Drama Critics
Award. My only gripe (one I had with the novel) was the death of John Henry.
When a character in a movie or play mentions in passing that they have a
headache, you know that they’re doomed in the last act. But, probably, when
Bernice talks of his death, there must have been a ripple of shock throughout
the audience. What?! John Henry died? That lovable kid?
