Author's note: I love this novella. The imagery, the syntax, the thoughts that it elicits...they all fascinate me. Everyone knows that I love horror movies, and I think that it's partly because people behaving badly is something that I'll never see in real life. And because it's not part of my everyday existence, I'm intrigued by the unknown potential of evil in us all, and what makes it reveal its ugly head, not to mention the fact that we just can't bear the truth of it... This is a response to the first three chapters of the novel...
No one likes to have a mirror held up to their face that shows them the truth about their ugliness. The silvery layered reflection of our deepest and darkest desires dwells within, and staring at ourselves and truly seeing who we are shatters the fragile outer veneer that we work so tirelessly to paint. Our masks that define who we are on the outside, our roles that we play to appease society, our lies that we tell ourselves to hide the truth can only temporarily subdue the truth that evil lurks beneath the surface of our souls and there is absolutely nothing we can do about it. It smirks with a "black, sneering coolness," and it brings out the "sweat" on Enfield "like running."
So why can't Enfield truly describe what Hyde looks like? After all, the horrific trampling of a young girl at 3 am (why she's out on the street so late is unclear!) occurred recently, so why should he fluster when asked? He says, "There's something wrong with his appearance; something displeasing, something down-right detestable...He must be deformed somewhere; he gives a strong feeling of deformity, although I couldn't specify the point...I can't describe him. And it's not for want of memory, for I declare I can see him at this moment" (11). Like looking to the stars in the darkened heavens and trying to focus on one solitary diamond, only to find that the only way to truly see the star is to look at it peripherally, Utterson finds that there is no direct way to encapsulate the source of the problem. But that's just it. He is human, he has walls that protect him from the truths that will undoubtedly tear him, and the rest of us, apart. Who can truly look death in the face and say, "Yeah, I'm okay with this?" Who can know the most forbidden Faustian knowledge without sacrificing part of themselves? We can't. We can't see the truth because it's too difficult to bear.
The faceless and nameless evil that swims in our veins is better left unearthed. Ignorance is bliss, and if we only have a short amount of time here on earth, and we really don't know what happens next, then why not just enjoy each moment for what it is? A moment. A gem. But, alas, poor Utterson. Now that he's seen "evil," he can never go back. Formerly, it was "his ignorance of Mr. Hyde that had swelled his indignation; now, by a sudden turn, it was his knowledge" (13). That forbidden fruit is just too destructive, and part of me wishes that Adam and Eve didn't bite, that we could just stop wondering and be at peace with the world, ready to just hang around and love the beauty that is life. Why are we so damaged and flawed? It drives me nuts. Childhood was blissful until I discovered that other girls made fun of me for my talented ability to gallop like a horse, leaping picnic benches like Olympic rails. And I was GOOD at it! Gosh! I could leap those wooden benches like I was a true Palomino, but all they saw was a dorky animal lover lost in her own world, singing to her own tune, prancing to her own beat. My point? There's always that moment when we "understand."
Our ancient ancestors damned us to this knowledge. There's no turning back. So what now?
So where am I going with all of this? I think it's me just dealing with the fact that even if we can't name or describe the evil, it is still there, and we collectively know it. Psychoanalytic theorist Carl Jung's notion of the "collective unconscious" poses that there are certain "original set of archetypes common to all members of a group, and out of which they formulate meanings, contexts, and patterns within the group" (http://csmt.uchicago.edu/glossary2004/collectiveconsciousness.htm). On some deeper level, we KNOW when we look into one anothers' eyes that our thoughts and desires are their thoughts and desires. It just icks us out to truly acknowledge this. Hyde's evil is Utterson's, is the girl's, is ours. That icks us out, too. We can't HYDE it! How "punny!!!"
I really like the thoughts here, the way you casual roll over such content, occasionally just relaxing the voice to relieve the pressure you build by posing the questions we struggle with. There is an interesting quality of casual mixed with depth. Interesting.
ReplyDeleteI could write a response to so many of your points, so many issues and ideas you raise, and I hope you are reading this as the compliment it is meant to be. I love writing that causes me to think, makes me want to blurt out, going on a rant. Thanks! And yes, I am Jekyll, and I am Hyde. I have seen the face of fear and lived.