Two very different pieces of literature, two very different aims. Or are they really so different? Shaffer's obvious aim is to question our treatment of the "insane" as well as question that same classification. Atwood, on the other hand, attempts to question our feelings of superiority, particularly in regards to the forever ongoing male versus female debate. Those issues are an example of how literature can take a stance and change our perspective.
Alan Strang is classified as a lunatic in the play. He stabbed the eyes out of six horses because they "saw" him. At least, that is the basic storyline. If we define sanity as having a clear purpose and moral sense, then Alan Strang is most definitely sane. He has purpose in taking the horses out at night, and was in a fit of rage and passion when he hurt the horses, something we are all liable to do. As for as moral, Alan demonstrates an ability to tell right from wrong. He is aware taking the horses out is wrong, and so keeps it secret. Alan also demonstrates an ethical sense, when being embarrassed by the pornography show and knowing it was wrong that his father was there as well. There is no guilt in his actions. On the other hand, the supposed sane psychologist is struggling with guilt and remorse for what he has done. Dysart is the one with odd dreams, that can no longer distinguish good from evil, right from wrong. Shaffer does this to these characters as an enticement, a lure to show us that how we perceive the world is not always correct.
Atwood turns the tables as well. In Gilead, a supposedly male-dominated society, the women hold the real power. Sure, the men go to work everyday, but it is unimportant in the survival of the state, while the women are required to keep it going. The president's assassination allowed for a male takeover, but it didn't matter, it was the women behind these men that really received power. This is especially apparent in the strip club. Men are portrayed as slaves to their desires, inhuman beings that are dominated by the need to have sex. Women are not controlled by this, and so have the ability to run the country. The women have the power, especially the handmaids, to control the outcome of the state. Gilead will fall without the women, women that had become second class citizens.
Wednesday, February 9, 2011
Tuesday, February 1, 2011
New Society, Same Questions
In Equus, Peter Shaffer explored how we determine what passion is through the relationship between a passionate patient and passionless psychologist. In The Handmaid's Tale, Margaret Atwood also looks at passion, but focuses on where passion resides in a household. Does it reside in the man, the head of household? Or the wife? Or perhaps his "handmaid", a women assigned to him to make a child? Is there really passion at all? Enter the story of Offred (the handmaid's names are "of" combined with their commander's name, hence "fred") a woman of 33 years who watched the fall of the U.S. and now resides in Gilead with the specific duty of creating children. When first meeting her, she is as passionless as Dysart, as empty and cold as if all life had been sucked out of her. But she remembers times before. She remembers her husband, Luke, and five year old daughter, before they were taken away from her. She remembers college days with her best friend Moira. She remembers the fall of the state, and the failed escape plan. She remembers the days of training to be a handmaid, with the cruel aunts and the former "school." In these things she finds passion, and finds the strength to go on, that she may someday again be with her husband and daughter.
Martin Dysart too remembers, but not to the extent of Offred. While her passion gives her strength, his former passion for the Greek gods has given way to nothingness. He hates himself, and what he must do to "cure" children. His memory does not give him hope, but rather despair. This creates two very different endings for the two characters. Offred takes a chance and begins to privately see both Nick, the chauffer for the commander, and the commander himself. Both are opportunities to understand the complex society that followed the fall of the U.S. Offred learns of secret strip clubs, and a secret underground organization dedicated to freeing the handmaids and others from the clutches of Gilead. Through these learnings, she is able to plan an eventual escape. Dysart does none of this. So confused in his memory of children, so consumed by guilt, it is obvious he cannot go on with his life in the current matter. When he tries to treat Alan, it is known that it will absolutely and utterly destroy him. The guilt will consume him. There is no chance at a happy ending.
Perhaps though, we assign too much blame to Dysart and not enough to his society. Dysart is forced to cure people of mental "disease" that only may or may not exist. While he may have chosen the field, there is no proof he wanted to hurt people, to take away their very core. He is the result of what society has made him, a sad, lonely man, who hates himself for what he has done. Passion had to be eliminated so he could continue his work. Offred is also a result of her society. She is a woman used for reproduction, and the act of producing a baby is the height of passion. Sure, the "Ceremony" attempts to remove all passion from the act, but it is there, obvious in the way the commander still wants her, obvious in the way his wife Serena hates her. The passion of Nick, a hidden member of the secret Mayday organization, eventually saves her. Offred is a passionate creature because that is what society dictates she be, just as Dysart is passionless because society says he must be. The juxtaposition of these two characters asks the question: just what is society capable of?
Martin Dysart too remembers, but not to the extent of Offred. While her passion gives her strength, his former passion for the Greek gods has given way to nothingness. He hates himself, and what he must do to "cure" children. His memory does not give him hope, but rather despair. This creates two very different endings for the two characters. Offred takes a chance and begins to privately see both Nick, the chauffer for the commander, and the commander himself. Both are opportunities to understand the complex society that followed the fall of the U.S. Offred learns of secret strip clubs, and a secret underground organization dedicated to freeing the handmaids and others from the clutches of Gilead. Through these learnings, she is able to plan an eventual escape. Dysart does none of this. So confused in his memory of children, so consumed by guilt, it is obvious he cannot go on with his life in the current matter. When he tries to treat Alan, it is known that it will absolutely and utterly destroy him. The guilt will consume him. There is no chance at a happy ending.
Perhaps though, we assign too much blame to Dysart and not enough to his society. Dysart is forced to cure people of mental "disease" that only may or may not exist. While he may have chosen the field, there is no proof he wanted to hurt people, to take away their very core. He is the result of what society has made him, a sad, lonely man, who hates himself for what he has done. Passion had to be eliminated so he could continue his work. Offred is also a result of her society. She is a woman used for reproduction, and the act of producing a baby is the height of passion. Sure, the "Ceremony" attempts to remove all passion from the act, but it is there, obvious in the way the commander still wants her, obvious in the way his wife Serena hates her. The passion of Nick, a hidden member of the secret Mayday organization, eventually saves her. Offred is a passionate creature because that is what society dictates she be, just as Dysart is passionless because society says he must be. The juxtaposition of these two characters asks the question: just what is society capable of?
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