Saturday, October 10, 2015

Interesting or Stupid/Problematic: Narration in REVOLUTIONARY ROAD

The nonexistence of the American Dream, the crippling loneliness of existence, the crippling conformity of the suburbs. All things associated with what is supposed to make the novel Revolutionary Road an American classic ... I'm half-convinced. 

Revolutionary Road is about April and Frank Wheeler, a young couple who have reluctantly settled down in the suburbs of Connecticut, despite dreams of traveling, and living a bohemian lifestyle. The book explores their extremely flawed relationship, and eventual end of their marriage. What really captivated me about this novel was the amount of acting in the novel, how each character in the novel is attempting to perform and fulfill a role they feel they are supposed to be playing, and in attempting to live up to those roles, no character can really seem to know who another character is, there is no real communication, no real acknowledgement of anyone's humanity. With April and Frank, they are desperately trying to play the roles of wife and husband, and live up to the expectations of femininity and masculinity. The novel is especially preoccupied with delusions of masculinity, and conveys how both men and women play into illusory ideas of what men and women are supposed to be like. For example, the axis of the novel is when April convinces Frank that what they really need is to move to Paris in order to finally live the life they were meant to. One way in which she convinces him is to say that he needs to leave his mindless job, which he got to support their family, and move to Paris so that he can finally have the time to find himself and his ultimate purpose in life. Frank is not so convinced because he has no 'definite, measurable talent' to be successful in Paris, but April says, 'I don't care if you decide after five years that what you really want is to be a bricklayer or a mechanic or a merchant seamen ... it's your very essence that's being stifled here. It's what you are that's being denied and denied in this kind of life' (121). Frank then asks April what is it that he is, and says, 'You're the most valuable and wonderful thing in the world. You're a man' (121). And of course after this, Frank gives in, he feels as if he's had a victory, and he becomes excited. This moment is so ridiculously absurd, which makes it a perfect example of the toxic masculinity the novel conveys. In this moment, too, it does seem like April is really laying it on thick to convince Frank to drop everything and move to Paris, which means there is without a doubt a lot of self-interest here, and that she knows how to play to the right instincts to convince Frank. 

Aside from great moments like the one I mentioned above, the novel still does not go far enough to make these moments stick the landing, and arrive at a place where, as readers, we can put aside the expectations of masculinity and femininity that are actually very harmful to relationships, and rebuild. I am not convinced for a simple reason: we barely get any of April's point of view. I would say about 80% of the novel is narrated by Frank, 10% by another character Shep, 8% by an omniscient narrator, and 2% by April. Honestly, what the fuck is up with that? In a novel that is about two people and their inability to connect, about, according to Richard Yates himself, the fact that 'human beings are inescapably alone,' why are we offered so little of April's perspective? Is it that the only way to convey how inescapably alone human beings are is by only offering one perspective in a relationship? Does barring April's point of view until there are only 30 pages left, truly, truly convey their estrangement and disconnect, or does it make her a vague figure? And if it was purposeful to make her a vague figure to convey that disconnect, would it not also be powerful to have more of her narration, to make Frank a vague figure to her? And when we finally get a glimpse into her perspective, we get a flashback of her absentee father visiting on her birthday, thus automatically adding a distinct 'daddy issues' flavor to the novel, which no one ever needs. This all seems like a glaring oversight to me. What could potentially be an interesting point about human beings as fundamentally alone and unable to know each other, comes across as a distinct indifference to April's perspective, and ultimately, indifference to the consequences of toxic masculinity on women. So what ends up happening is a half-assed critique of all of those things I listed way back in the first paragraph of this post. The novel doesn't go far enough. Especially with theme of acting, and these roles of masculinity and femininity. 

That's all there is folks.

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