Carson McCullers

by Carson McCullers

  Harry has the exaggeratedly developed sense of right and wrong that sometimes is a characteristic of adolescence. He is also of a brooding nature. There is the implication that his abrupt experience with Mick will leave its mark on him for a long time.

  Lily Mae Jenkins

  Lily Mae is an abandoned, waifish Negro homosexual who haunts the Sunny Dixie Show where Jake works. He is always dancing. His mind and feelings are childish and he is totally unfit to earn his living. Because of his skill in music and dancing he is a friend of Willie’s. He is always half starved and he hangs around Portia’s kitchen constantly in the hopes of getting a meal. When Highboy and Willie are gone Portia takes some comfort in Lily Mae.

  Lily Mae is presented in the book in exactly the same naive way that his friends understand him. Portia describes Lily Mae to Dr. Copeland in this manner: “Lily Mae is right pitiful now. I don’t know if you ever noticed any boys like this but he cares for mens instead of girls. When he were younger he used to be real cute. He were all the time dressing up in girls’ clothes and laughing. Everybody thought he were real cute then. But now he getting old and he seem different. He all the time hungry and he real pitiful. He loves to come set and talk with me in the kitchen. He dances for me and I gives him a little dinner.”

  The Kelly Children—Bill, Hazel, Etta, Bubber and Ralph

  No great interest is focussed on any of these children individually. They are all seen through the eyes of Mick. All three of the older children are confused, in varying degrees, by the problem of trying to find their places in a society that is not prepared to absorb them. Each one of these youngsters is seen sharply—but not with complex fullness.

  It is Mick’s permanent duty to nurse Bubber and the baby during all the time when she is not actually at school. This chore is something of a burden for an adventurous roamer like Mick—but she has a warm and deep affection for these youn­gest children. At one time she makes these rambling remarks concerning her sisters and brothers as a whole: “A person’s got to fight for every single little thing they ever get. And I’ve noticed a lot of times that the farther down a kid comes in a family the better the kid really is. Youngest kids are always the toughest. I’m pretty hard because I have a lot of them on top of me. Bubber—he looks sick but he’s got guts underneath that. If all this is true Ralph sure ought to be a real strong one when he’s big enough to get around. Even though he’s just thirteen months old I can read something hard and tough in that Ralph’s face already.”

  INTERRELATIONS OF CHARACTERS

  It can easily be seen that in spirit Dr. Copeland, Mick Kelly and Jake Blount are very similar. Each one of these three people has struggled to progress to his own mental proportions in spite of fettering circumstances. They are like plants that have had to grow under a rock from the beginning. The great effort of each of them has been to give and there has been no thought of personal returns.

  The likeness between Dr. Copeland and Jake Blount is so marked that they might be called spiritual brothers. The greatest real difference between them is one of race and of years. Dr. Copeland’s earlier life was spent in more favorable circumstances and from the start his duty was clear to him. The injustices inflicted on the Negro race are much more plainly marked than the ancient vastly scattered mismanagements of capitalism as a whole. Dr. Copeland was able to set to work immediately in a certain narrow sphere, while the conditions which Jake hates are too fluid for him to get his shoulder to them. Dr. Copeland has the simplicity and dignity of a person who has lived all of his life in one place and given the best of himself to one work. Jake has the jerky nervousness of a man whose inner and outer life has been no more stable than a whirlwind.

  The conscientiousness of both of these men is heightened by artificial stimulation—Dr. Copeland is running a diurnal temperature and Jake is drinking steadily every day. In certain persons the effects of these stimulants can be very much the same.

  Dr. Copeland and Jake come into direct contact with each other only once during the book. Casual encounters are not considered here. They meet and misunderstand each other in the second chapter when Jake tries to make the doctor come into Biff’s restaurant and drink with him. After that they see each other once on the stairs at the Kelly boarding house and then on two occasions they meet briefly in Singer’s room. But the only time they directly confront each other takes place in Dr. Copeland’s own house under dramatic circumstances.

  This is the night in which Willie has come home from the prison hospital. Dr. Copeland is in bed with an inflammation of the pleura, delirious and thought to be dying. The crippled Willie is on the cot in the kitchen and a swarm of friends and neighbors are trying to crowd in through the back door to see and hear of Willie’s situation. Jake has heard of the whole affair from Portia and when Singer goes to sit with Dr. Copeland during the night Jake asks to accompany him.

  Jake comes to the house with the intention of questioning Willie as closely as possible. But before the evening is over he is drawn to Dr. Copeland and it is he, instead of Singer, who sits through the night with the sick man. In the kitchen Willie is meeting his friends for the first time in almost a year. At first in the back of the house there is a sullen atmosphere of grief and hopelessness. Willie’s story is repeated over and over in sullen monotones. Then this atmosphere begins to change. Willie sits up on the cot and begins to play his harp. Lily Mae starts dancing. As the evening progresses the atmosphere changes to a wild artificial release of merriment.

  This is the background for Jake’s meeting with Dr. Copeland. The two men are together in the bedroom and the sounds from the kitchen come in during the night through the closed door. Jake is drunk and Dr. Copeland is almost out of his head with fever. Yet their dialogue comes from the marrow of their inner selves. They both lapse into the rhythmic, illiterate vernacularisms of their early childhood. The inner purpose of each man is seen fully by the other. In the course of a few hours these two men, after a lifetime of isolation, come as close to each other as it is possible for two human beings to be. Very early in the morning Singer drops by the house before going to work and he finds them both asleep together, Jake sprawled loosely on the foot of the bed and Dr. Copeland sleeping with healthy naturalness.

  The interrelations between the other characters will not have to be described in such detail. Mick, Jake and Biff see each other frequently. Each one of these people occupies a certain key position in the town; Mick is nearly always on the streets. At the restaurant Biff comes in frequent contact with all the main characters except Dr. Copeland. Jake is constantly watching a whole cross-section of the town at the show where he works—later when he drives a taxi he becomes acquainted with nearly all of the characters, major and minor, in the book. Mick’s relations toward each of these people are childish and matter of fact. Biff, except for his affinity for Mick, is coldly appraising. Certain small scenes and developments take place between all of these people in a variety of combinations.

  On the whole the interrelations between the people of this book can be described as being like the spokes of a wheel—with Singer representing the center point. This situation, with all of its attendant irony, expresses the most important theme of the book.

  GENERAL STRUCTURE AND OUTLINE

  TIME

  The first chapter serves as a prelude to the book and the reckoning of time starts with Chapter Two. The story covers a period of fourteen months—from May until the July of the following year.

  The whole work is divided into three parts. The body of the book is contained in the middle section. In the actual number of pages this is the longest of the three parts and nearly all of the months in the time scheme take place in this division.

  Part I

  The first writing of Part I is already completed and so there is no need to take up this section in detail. The time extends from the middle of May to the middle of July. Each of the main characters is introduced in detail. The salient points of each person are clearly implied and
the general direction each character will take is indicated. The tale of Singer and Antonapoulos is told. The meetings of each one of the main characters with Singer are presented—and the general web of the book is begun.

  Part II

  There is a quickening of movement at the beginning of this middle section. There will be more than a dozen chapters in this part, but the handling of these chapters is much more flexible than in Part I. Many of the chapters are very short and they are more dependent upon each other than the first six chapters. Almost half of the actual space is devoted to Mick, her growth and progress, and the increasing intensity of her admiration for Singer. Her story, and the separate parts developed from her point of view, weave in and out of the chapters about the other characters.

  This part opens with Mick on one of her nocturnal wanderings. During the summer she has been hearing concerts under unusual circumstances. She has found out that in certain wealthier districts in the town a few families get fairly good programs on their radios. There is one house in particular that tunes in every Friday evening for a certain symphony concert. Of course the windows are all open at this time of the year and the music can be heard very plainly from the outside. Mick saunters into the yard at night just before the program is to begin and sits down in the dark behind the shrubbery under the living room window. Sometimes after the concert she will stand looking in at the family in the house for some time before going on. Because she gets so much from their radio she is half in love with all of the people in the house.

  It would take many dozens of pages to go into a synopsis of this second part in complete detail. A complete and explanatory account would take actually longer than the whole part as it will be when it is completed—for a good book implies a great deal more than the words actually say. For convenience it is best to set down a few skeleton notations with the purpose of getting the sequence of events into a pattern. These rough notes mean very little in themselves and can only be understood after a thorough reading of the part of these remarks which goes under the heading of Characters and Events. This rough outline is still in a tentative stage and is only meant to be indicative of the general formation of this central part.

  LATE SUMMER

  Mick’s night wandering and the concert. Resumé of the growth that is taking place in Mick this summer. On the morning after the concert Portia tells Mick and the other Kelly children of Willie’s arrest. Mick’s morning wanderings.

  Jake Blount’s experience at the Sunny Dixie Show.

  AUTUMN

  Mick’s first day at Vocational High.

  Dr. Copeland on his medical rounds. Another visit from Portia in which she tells her father that Highboy has left her.

  Mick becomes acquainted with Harry West.

  Biff’s wife, Alice, dies—his meditations.

  Mick and her music again. Mick’s sister, Etta, takes French leave of her family and tries to run away to Hollywood, but returns in a few days. Mick goes with the little girl who teaches her music to a “real” piano lesson. She experiences a great embarrassment when she boldly tells the teacher she is a musician and sits down to try to play on a “real” piano. (This takes place at the house where Mick was listening to the concert at the opening of this section—and Mick already knows this teacher and her family quite well after watching them through the window during the summer.)

  WINTER

  Christmas. Dr. Copeland gives his two annual Christmas parties—one in the morning for children and another in the late afternoon for adults. These parties have been given by him every year for two decades and he serves refreshments to his patients and then makes a short talk. The relation between Dr. Copeland and the human material with which he works is brought out clearly.

  Singer visits Antonapoulos.

  Jake Blount’s experience in the town as a ten-cent taxi driver.

  Mick and Singer. Mick begins plans for the glider with Harry West.

  The tragedy of Willie and the other four boys is told by Portia in the Kelly kitchen to Mick, Jake Blount and Singer.

  SPRING

  Further meditations of Biff Brannon—and scene between Mick and Biff at the restaurant.

  Mick and her music again—Mick and Harry work on the glider.

  Willie returns. The meeting of Dr. Copeland and Jake.

  The experience between Harry and Mick comes to its abrupt fulfillment and finish. Harry’s departure. Mick’s oppressive secret. The Kellys’ financial condition. Mick’s energetic plans and her music.

  Singer’s death.

  This outline does not indicate the main web of the story—that of the relations of each main character with the mute. These relations are so gradual and so much a part of the persons themselves that it is impossible to put them down in such blunt notations. However, from these notes a general idea of the time scheme and of sequence can be gathered.

  Part III

  Singer’s death overshadows all of the final section of the book. In actual length this part requires about the same number of pages as does the first part. In technical treatment the similarity between these sections is pronounced. This part takes place during the months of June and July. There are four chapters and each of the main characters is given his last presentation. A rough outline of this conclusive part may be suggested as follows:

  Dr. Copeland. The finish of his work and teachings—his departure to the country. Portia, Willie and Highboy start again.

  Jake Blount. Jake writes curious social manifestoes and distributes them through the town. The brawl at the Sunny Dixie Show; Jake prepares to leave the town.

  Mick Kelly. Mick begins her new work at the ten-cent store.

  Biff Brannon. Final scene between Biff, Mick and Jake at the restaurant. Meditations of Biff concluded.

  PLACE—THE TOWN

  This story, in its essence, could have occurred at any place and in any time. But as the book is written, however, there are many aspects of the content which are peculiar to the America of this decade—and more specifically to the southern part of the United States. The town is never mentioned in the book by its name. The town is located in the very western part of Georgia, bordering the Chattahoochee River and just across the boundary line from Alabama. The population of the town is around 40,000—and about one third of the people in the town are Negroes. This is a typical factory community and nearly all of the business set-up centers around the textile mills and small retail stores.

  Industrial organization has made no headway at all among the workers in the town. Conditions of great poverty prevail. The average cotton mill worker is very unlike the miner or a worker in the automobile industry—south of Gastonia, S.C., the average cotton mill worker has been conditioned to a very apathetic, listless state. For the most part he makes no effort to determine the causes of poverty and unemployment. His immediate resentment is directed toward the only social group beneath him—the Negro. When the mills are slack this town is veritably a place of lost and hungry people.

  TECHNIQUE AND SUMMARY

  This book is planned according to a definite and balanced design. The form is contrapuntal throughout. Like a voice in a fugue each one of the main characters is an entirety in himself—but his personality takes on a new richness when contrasted and woven in with the other characters in the book.

  It is in the actual style in which the book will be written that the work’s affinity to contrapuntal music is seen most clearly. There are five distinct styles of writing—one for each of the main characters who is treated subjectively and an objective, legendary style for the mute. The object in each of these methods of writing is to come as close as possible to the inner psychic rhythms of the character from whose point of view it is written. This likeness between style and character is fairly plain in the first part—but this closeness progresses gradually in each instance until at the end the style expresses the inner man just as deeply as is possible without lapsing into the unintelligible unconscious.

  This book will be
complete in all of its phases. No loose ends will be left dangling and at the close there will be a feeling of balanced completion. The fundamental idea of the book is ironic—but the reader is not left with a sense of futility. The book reflects the past and also indicates the future. A few of the people in this book come very near to being heroes and they are not the only human beings of their kind. Because of the essence of these people there is the feeling that, no matter how many times their efforts are wasted and their personal ideals are shown to be false, they will someday be united and they will come into their own.

  The Flowering Dream: Notes on Writing

  WHEN I WAS A CHILD of about four, I was walking with my nurse past a convent. For once, the convent doors were open. And I saw the children eating ice-cream cones, playing on iron swings, and I watched, fascinated. I wanted to go in, but my nurse said no, I was not Catholic. The next day, the gate was shut. But, year by year, I thought of what was going on, of this wonderful party, where I was shut out. I wanted to climb the wall, but I was too little. I beat on the wall once, and I knew all the time that there was a marvelous party going on, but I couldn’t get in.

  Spiritual isolation is the basis of most of my themes. My first book was concerned with this, almost entirely, and all of my books since, in one way or another. Love, and especially love of a person who is incapable of returning or receiving it, is at the heart of my selection of grotesque figures to write about—people whose physical incapacity is a symbol of their spiritual incapacity to love or receive love—their spiritual isolation.

  To understand a work, it is important for the artist to be emotionally right on dead center; to see, to know, to experience the things he is writing about. Long before Harold Clurman, who, bless his heart, directed The Member of the Wedding, I think I had directed every fly and gnat in that room years ago.