Hanna Mak 1b. Long Essay: The Constructed
Reality of Correspondence Within the Romantic tradition, the
inner world of emotions and the concept of reality are fundamentally
inseparable. In perceiving reality as unbound purely to the material, the
elements of twinning and correspondence, which effectively dissolve the already
unstable boundary between the real and unreal, are both natural territories for
a Romantic text. In the words of Emerson, “Dream delivers us to dream, and there
is no end to illusion. Life is like a train of moods like a string of beads,
and, as we pass through them, they prove to be many-colored lenses which paint
the world their own hue.” The use of correspondence thoroughly reflects this
view of reality, even in twinning—an element of story which ultimately makes
manifest our latent fears and anxieties regarding the fragility of identity.
Although each specific instance of correspondence differs somewhat from the
next, each example is still connected via an inextricable link to the mysterious
psychology of our culture’s collective imagination. Furthermore, despite their
notable prominence within the Romantic period, examples of these reality-bending
elements are common occurrences within subsequent modern literary traditions as
well, which further serves to underscore their extensive psychological
significance. In the context of early American
Romantic literature, as in Washington Irving’s
Legend of Sleepy Hollow, the example
of correspondence taps into an awareness of the natural and supernatural alike,
together evoking an overall sense of the dark and arcane. During Ichabod’s
ill-fated trek towards home, the stage is initially set by the specific
evocation and corruption of nature: “the melancholy chirp of a cricket…the
guttural twang of a bull-frog from a neighboring marsh, as if sleeping
uncomfortably and turning suddenly in his bed.” Here, Irving makes use of
atmospheric night sounds which are often perceived as both natural and pleasant,
but uses them in order to set the stage for Ichabod’s gradually building unease.
Ichabod’s pensive emotions are projected onto the cricket, and his anxiety seeps
into the restless call of the bullfrog, making use of a natural, material
reality and effectively manipulating it in order to gradually build a darkly
psychological, supernatural depiction of reality. The character’s demonstrable
and steadily creeping despair, as well as his special predilection towards
elements of the supernatural, only further seeps into his perception of reality
as the night progresses: “All the stories of ghosts and goblins that he had
heard in the afternoon now came crowding upon his recollection. The night grew
darker and darker; the stars seemed to sink deeper in the sky, and driving
clouds occasionally hid them from his sight. He had never felt so lonely and
dismal.” In these particular instances, the line between the natural and
supernatural, as well as the line between reality and perception, are ultimately
blurred, mirroring Ichabod’s emotions with the environment. The effect of correspondence,
however, is as complex and diverse as the range of emotions which it strives to
manifest. In Emerson’s Nature, for
example, the reader is exposed to a use of correspondence which is empowering,
exultant, and highly spiritual. The material imagery of the plants, animals and
stars in this case function not to evoke darkness or fear, but serves to operate
as a mirror which reflects the author’s own spiritual contemplation and his
veneration for the natural world: “The stars awaken a certain reverence, because
though always present, they are inaccessible; but all natural objects make a
kindred impression, when the mind is open to their influence. … The flowers, the
animals, the mountains, reflected the wisdom of his best hour, as much as they
had delighted the simplicity of his childhood.” Despite this initial reverent
tone, however, Emerson also expressly acknowledges the flexibility of nature
within the context of human emotion: “for every hour and change corresponds to
and authorizes a different state of the mind, from breathless noon to grimmest
midnight. Nature is a setting that fits equally well a comic or a mourning
piece.” In this instance, Emerson pointedly reveals the psychology and power
behind the use of correspondence—man’s interpretation of the natural world is
ultimately as malleable as his own mind. This evident emotional malleability
is exemplified by Poe in The Fall of the
House of Usher, which darkly inverts the expression of natural beauty and
religious splendor which is demonstrable in the works of Emerson.
The potency of the narrator’s word choice evokes the spiritual, but does so
to the opposite effect: “…within view of the melancholy House of Usher. I know
not how it was—but, with the first glimpse of the building, a sense of
insufferable gloom pervaded my spirit.” Mere contact with the environment
establishes a discourse between the setting and the emotional state of the
character, casting both in a decidedly otherworldly light. As with the
spiritual, the effects of the environs are received almost through absorption,
but are in the service of the narrator’s building despair, which oftentimes
borders on the profane. In this vein, the observance of Madeline’s death seems
to infect her brother with the wraithlike qualities of his sister, which, in
turn, spills over into the psyche of the narrator himself: “The pallor of his
countenance had assumed, if possible, a more ghastly hue… it infected me. I felt
creeping upon me, by slow yet certain degrees, the wild influences of his own
fantastic yet impressive superstitions.” In this sense, the effect of
correspondence is that of an inexorable and unholy disease, spreading from
person to person in a manner which should be inexplicable, but is justified and
real when constructed within the narrator’s own reality of abject terror and
emotional vulnerability. If the literary device of
correspondence may go so far as to effectively function without reproach as a
disease, its link to human psychology is decidedly profound. Therefore, it is no
surprise that it continually occurs within works well after the Romantic period,
albeit perhaps with different aims and added complications. In William
Faulkner’s Modernist novel, Absalom,
Absalom!, the characters are constantly subject to correspondence, but here
its function is often to cast doubt upon the reliability of the narrator’s
self-conscious retrospect, establishing that details constantly shift within the
failing realm of memory. This aspect of the narrative is demonstrable in Miss
Rosa’s anxiety and uncertainty towards the death of Charles Bon: “…I tried to
take the full weight of the coffin to prove to myself that he was really in it.
And I could not tell. …Because I never saw him. You see? There are some things
that happen to us which the intelligence and the senses refuse just as the
stomach sometimes refuses what the palate has accepted but which digestion
cannot compass.” The vague feelings of anxiety and uncertainty that Rosa feels
towards the death of Charles Bon move beyond mere emotion and effectually become
evidence to support the unreality of her situation—did he actually die? While it
is a relatively simple matter for the reader to determine that he did, as the
result of direct access to every narrator and testimony that the novel presents,
for Miss Rosa, while she certainly knows the empirical facts as well as the
reader, her psychological state provides a tincture of doubt that is not only
impossible with an impartial, omniscient narrator, but is a common occurrence in
the reality of daily life. The modern use of correspondence is
not solely restricted to the process of casting doubt, however. It is a device
that may also be used for the opposite aim of shedding a new and purposeful
light upon a particularly complicated matter. In Salman Rushdie’s Postmodernist
novel, Midnight’s Children, the
effects of correspondence, and especially twinning, feature prominently in its
plot; however, its significance is placed on a different cultural level due to
the unique purpose of the text. The basic premise of the novel is that the
protagonist and narrator, Saleem Sinai, was born at exactly midnight during the
precise moment of India’s independence, and claims that from the moment of his
birth, both his fate and the fate of the nation became mysteriously intertwined;
in other words, if the narrator is to be trusted, the main character’s ‘twin’ is
not a person, but the nation of India itself. In fact, the purported motive for
Saleem’s narration is the declining state of his health, which itself is
constructed to reflect the political and cultural turmoil of the nation: "Please believe that I am falling
apart. I am not speaking metaphorically; nor is this the opening gambit of some
melodramatic, riddling, grubby appeal for pity. I mean quite simply that I have
begun to crack all over like an old jug… buffeted by too much history...In
short, I am literally disintegrating, slowly for the moment, although there are
signs of acceleration. ...I shall eventually crumble into (approximately) six
hundred and thirty million particles of anonymous, and necessarily oblivious,
dust." The narrator, then, burdens the
reader with the task of unraveling some version of the truth—are the fates of
the narrator and the nation of India supernaturally linked, or does the narrator
purposefully construct the events of his life to coincide with the history of
his nation? Regardless of the empirical truth, however, the narrator’s version
of events still serves to elucidate matters about the religious, cultural and
political state of India, via the emotional and psychological truth of the
protagonist. In this sense, whether the narrator is telling the ‘truth’ is
irrelevant—the purpose of the narrative and the function of the correspondence
within it exists to grant the reader access to what would be wholly inaccessible
with bare, empirical facts. This, however, is the very essence of
correspondence—to make accessible this version of reality, this illusive
emotional truth. If Realism aims to construct a believable version of reality
based upon the tangible, then Romanticism seeks to construct a version of the
tangible based heavily upon an abstract yet powerful emotional reality. Indeed,
correspondence is the ultimate manifestation of that latter impulse. The
dependency of this literary device upon the emotive qualities of its narrator or
characters, ultimately lends it an instinctive depth and fluidity which brings
to fruition the primal psychological truths that lie dormant in every mind.
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