The Fine Line Between Allegory And Truth

Truth is an event which actually occurred. It is subjective but invariable. O'Brien asserts that he could truthfully tell his daughter that he did kill someone, or that he didn't kill anyone. He is not stretching the "allegorical" truth. He can rationalize what he did/didn't do in any fashion he desires. The "allegorical" truth is subjective, and therefore infallible. He could tell his daughter the allegorical version of his time in Vietnam until he thinks she's ready to handle and understand it. When the daughter is of the right age, he should tell her the actual truth and explain the allegorical version. Recognizing the dichotomy between allegory and truth is essential to understanding the overall message which O'Brian is attempting to proffer.

Abnormal

Growing up I loved to read. It was a way for me to escape reality and become someone else for as long as I wanted. I would spend hours at time reading about people who made me thankful for the life that I had. That being said, Kiowa’s death affected me more than Rat Kiley loosing his mind. The mind is an easy thing to loose. It is almost expected during war. Everyone looses parts of themselves when faced in traumatic situations, such as Vietnam. I always hear post-war stories of grown men who wake up one day reliving battles and running around trying to protect themselves from things and people who aren’t there. Just like Rat scratching away bugs that were not crawling on him. Don’t get me wrong, the story of Rat is powerful but it’s generic compared to the death of Kiowa. Kiowa died in a field of feces he was literally sucked into the ground by bowel movements and rain. I think that I took to this story more than Rat’s because I enjoy reading about the abnormal. Things that make you feel uncomfortable almost to the point you want to stop reading. O’Brian talks about this in his interview when he says storytelling is “how we deal with conflict and with struggle and tensions in our lives”. Only for me I would rather hear or read of others struggles instead of tell mine. That is why I prefer “In The Field” instead of “Night Life”.

Down With The Rain

Let me start by saying that this part of the book, Kiowa's death and all the parts that related back to it, have been the most difficult to swallow. Previously, I was never much bothered by O'Brien's thin web of lies and truths. I found myself taking his stories as fact without much hesitation, and accepting them as fiction when he shed light on their false nature just as easily. However, there was something that kept me from going with the punches this time around. I think it was partly because he tells you this same story over and over again in all sorts of different ways for forty-eight pages straight.

First, it was Norman Bowker who couldn't pull Kiowa's body out of the mud fast enough to save his life, and so he gave up and let the man sink into the muck. Then O'Brien adds another layer to the story by telling you why he felt he had to write that story into this book. Bowker's tragic tale about needing to speak out to alleviate the guilt he felt about being unable to save his friend's life makes the story seem even more 'real', despite the fact that you know these character's aren't actually 'real' themselves. O'Brien goes on to further your emotional attachment to this particular tale by retelling it. Only this time, he decides to tell you that it was a nameless solider who failed to pry that boot from the mud pit. I had to go back and reread that part three times. I just could swallow it. I had no problem with O'Brien coming right out and saying that several parts of the story were not factual. I understood where he was coming from. I understood why the story needed to be told in this sort of deceptive way, and could therefore accept it. I couldn't understand why he would write the same story, completely change major details, and then not even space it out at all. Had he slide a few sections in between them, I probably wouldn't have even questioned it. I wouldn't have seen a need to. But him putting the stories practically back to back makes me think there had to be a reason he wanted you to see the differences. Maybe to further your distrust in him? I'm not really sure. It became even more frustrating for me in Good Form when he comes right out and reminds you that almost none of the previous tales were factually true. I think even that could have been forgivable, if he hadn't written Field Trip immediately after Good Form. I found myself wondering more about why he was becoming so untactful in his lies more so than concentrating on the story. It was a complete 360 to how I had been approaching the book, and I found it difficult to concentrate on the plot-line of Kiowa's death. It wasn't until after O'Brien had moved on to talk about gun wounds that I could fully immerse myself back into the story. I'm still completely baffled by why O'Brien chose to do this.

The Boy Who Lost Everything

"He was alone. He'd lost everything. He'd lost Kiowa and his weapon and his flashlight and his girlfriend's picture. He remembered this. He remembered wondering if he could lose himself." Those were the words that struck me with thought , the words that made him nameless. In this chapter, I felt that O'Brien was using the boy as analogy for the ignorance, innocence, and fragility that some of the now more experienced soldiers used to have. What they have now is the future, what they carry, and a reluctance. They seem to not hang on to the past as much as the book continues, although they do think about brutal events excessively from time to time. Even though that happens, they still continue forward. Lieutenant Cross seems to do this in the chapter, by just sitting there thinking about what he is going to do with the letter to Kiowa's father. While the nameless boy sits there looking for his girlfriend's picture. The metaphor here I believe, is that the novice soldiers are still hanging on to the past, whereas the adept are reluctantly looking forward. And, the reason the boy is nameless, mainly, is because he is still innocent. He is still one of the "identical copies of a single soldier". Even though he witnessed Kiowa's death, and lost his false sense of love from his ex's picture, he still wants to cling on to the past. When one of the soldiers that we can actually identify react to a situation, it is unique, and it always has been. Whether it was from killing the baby buffalo, or when Cross burned the letters from Martha, they all adaptively and uniquely coped with their situations. However, the nameless boy predictably looked for something he lost, especially predictable since it was his ex's picture. This predictability I believe shows innocence, and his frantic approach to find it showed fragility, and ignorance is just the sheer comparison of lieutenant to grunt. Despite his ignorance, though, I think the nameless boy was trying to convince himself that he needed to move forward, by doing the senseless act of searching for the picture. Because he needed to prove to himself that he lost it, that it was gone. He needed something to tell him he could go on, that he had no more burdens to bear. And I feel that correlates with the point that O'Brien made in his interview, to "convince the reader of the stuff that is happening in the now"; which is much like the nameless boy convincing himself of his current situation. O'Brien convinces us of the now to convince us of his truths, which inevitably entangle us in this complex web of truths, lies, and facts. Yet, he convinces us that this is true, whether it is lie or fact, and the nameless boy is convincing himself of the truth that he lost his picture, whether he accepts it or not. He is still innocent of the truths of war, the sins, the rights and wrongs, the fact that there are apparently none, and his name. I conclusively feel that O'Brien didn't name the boy, because he wasn't a part of the war, a part of the overall truth or truths we are being convinced of. He is still one of those identical soldiers, who is is still reluctantly holding on to the past.

Linda: The Introduction and Ending of Death

The story of a young O'Brien and his love interest, Linda, really brought the entire book together for me. Timmy was in love with Linda at such a young age, and her unexpected death was both heartbreaking and puzzling for young Timmy. I believe O'Brien included this story at the end of the book in order to explain his need for telling stories, for escaping. He even said it himself: he invented his own dreams and included Linda in them, who is very much alive in his fictional world. He slept in broad daylight in hopes of spending time with his love. Even in the years of writing "The Things They Carried", O'Brien admits he still thinks about Linda as he creates stories. In a way, Linda's death is an impetus for the start of O'Brien's writing career.
Timmy may not have necessarily understood death when he was exposed to Linda's corpse in her coffin. He could barely even recognize her in her post-mortem state. As far as the reader is concerned, this incident is the first time that O'Brien had ever seen a dead person face-to-face. His reason for including this story may have been to let his readers know that although he had been introduced to death pre-Vietnam, the entire concept was still new to him as far as comprehending and coping with the entire grieving process.
On the last page of the book, O'Brien says he is "Tim trying to save Timmy's life with a story". In other words, does Linda's death still haunt O'Brien to this day, and is his need to write stories an attempt to save himself from his own destruction?

The Things They Carried - Final Set of Prompts

I am going to make this blog post a little trickier for you (and a little more fun, hopefully). As before, you should choose one of these prompts and respond to it. However, your response will be a little different this time in that regardless of which prompt you choose, you should include, as part of your response, something from the O’Brien interview I posted on D2L. You might quote a line, or lines, from the interview, or you might paraphrase some part of it, or you might use it in some other way. Please remember, though, that your response should primarily be an expression of original thought.

1. In “In the Field,” there is a young boy that is not named. Why not give this character a name? Any ideas? Does the chapter give you any clues?

2. On 178-79, O’Brien writes, “Twenty years. A lot like yesterday, a lot like never. In a way, maybe, I’d gone under with Kiowa, and now after two decades I’d finally worked my way out. [. . .] I felt something go shut in my heart while something else swung open.” Interpret these lines.

3. What happens to O’Brien as he is enacting his revenge on Bobby Jorgenson? What do we learn about him in those chapters? How would you describe his emotional state?

5. O’Brien writes about the difference between “happening-truth” and “story-truth.” He writes that he could tell his daughter that he did, or did not, kill anyone, and that either one would be true. Is this stretching his definition of "truth" too far?
6. Which affected you more, Kiowa going under, or Rat Kiley beginning to lose his mind? Why? What does this teach you about yourself as a reader?

7. The story of Timmy and Linda is probably symbolic of many things. What does it symbolize to you? What is its significance? And why does O’Brien include it, even conclude with it, when it seems to be outside Vietnam, outside the framework of the book?

8. The last chapter, “The Lives of the Dead,” begins with the sentence, “But this, too, is true: stories can save us.” Why the word “too”? What other “truth” is he referring back to? And, perhaps more importantly, what do you think O’Brien means? After all you have read, respond to the idea that a story can save us.


Thank you!

Critical Response Prompts

I have written the prompts for your Critical Response and will bring a handout to class today. But I want to post them here as well:

Critical Response Paper Prompts

1. This prompt asks you to respond to the question of truth as it relates to storytelling.

In “Good Form,” Tim O’Brien makes a distinction between “happening-truth” and “story-truth” (171). How is truth conveyed in a story? Is it the same or different than the way truth is experienced “off the page”? Does “story-truth” follow rules, exhibit characteristics, or inhabit a moral universe separate from “happening-truth”?   

2. This prompt asks you to respond to the benefits of telling and/or hearing stories.

At the end of The Things They Carried, O’Brien realizes that “Tim [is] trying to save Timmy’s life with a story.” Write a paper that responds to the idea that stories can save. Can they save us? If so, how? If not, what is it that they do for us?

3. This prompt asks you to discuss the dynamic relationship between author and reader.

Louise Rosenblatt, a literary critic and theorist, formulated an idea called “transactional reader response theory.” According to Rosenblatt, a text has both determinate and indeterminate meaning. Determinate meaning refers to events, details, physical descriptions, and other “facts” of the text. Indeterminate meaning refers to “gaps” that the author intentionally leaves in the text. These might include actions that are not fully explained, incidents or facts that are in dispute or that allow for multiple interpretations, or any other element of a text that requires a heavy degree of reader participation. Based on what we have read so far this semester, discuss the relationship between the author and the reader. How much of a responsibility does an author have to supply “meaning”? How much of this is the reader’s responsibility? [Note: You certainly do not have to refer to Rosenblatt or her theory in your paper, but if you are interested in learning more about Reader-Response theories, please ask me, and I can supply you with some reading material.]

4. This prompt asks you to discuss the relationship between memory and literary form.

The topic of memory has surfaced several times during our class discussions. Mark Twain once wrote,

When I was younger, I could remember anything, whether it had happened or not; but my faculties are decaying now and soon I shall be so I cannot remember any but the things that never happened. It is sad to go to pieces like this but we all have to do it.

Storytellers, perhaps especially modern (or postmodern) storytellers, often write in a way that attempts to capture the complex and fallible way(s) that memory works, and this is particularly true in their formal choices. How can the form of a work of literature—that is, the way in which it is written as opposed to merely what it says—reflect or embody the workings of memory, and why is this important?