chrysanthemums l雏菊的分析.docx

A Womans Frustration in the Gender-Divided World-An Analysis of Steinbecks “The Chrysanthemums”In his 1933 letter to a friend, John Steinbeck talks about his newly composed short story “The Chrysanthemums”: “It is entirely different and is designed to strike without the readers knowledge” (qtd. in Segal 214). It has indeed achieved the effect: ever since its publication, critics and readers, who unanimously “feel that something profound has happened to him” (qtd. in Segal 214), try in each way to figure out under and between the lines the theme of the story. While generally interpreting the tale as one about a womans frustration, critics put forward different reasons to explain the “what” and the “how. Some critics relate the protagonist Elisa Allens discontent and loneliness to the fact that she has no children and therefore is thwarted in her motherhood; and others, perceiving that Elisa and her husband Henrys relation lacks deep understanding and passion, suggest that sex-starvation is the cause of her sense of repression; still others treat the story as a tale of a bored middle-age housewife, believing that Elisas discontent is caused by her vague longing for illusive “romance” (Segal 214). Undoubtedly these analyses help, in various degrees, shed light on the understanding of the tale. However, they havent exhausted the complexity of the theme yet. If we approach the story by a close reading, taking adequate notice of the images and symbols which Steinbeck has carefully woven into the story, we may find that “The Chrysanthemums” is also a “profound” tale of “gender”, a story of the doomed frustration of a female who, in her attempt at self-fulfillment, unwittingly and yet inevitably “trespasses upon” the world branded as belonging to male gender.As we know, “gender” as a social construction, is the way we are socially defined. As Scott Carpenter points out: “our lives are steeped in distinctions based on gender, and these distinctions have a real, demonstrable impact on the way people live and interact” (89). As a woman, Elisas gender decides the role she should play, the work she is allowed to do, and the very style of life she has but to accept. In the binary oppositions of gender there exist two and only two possibilities: male and female, or “Ladies and Gents”. “Transgressions are not tolerated,” as Carpenter maintains, for binary oppositions “are rarely even-handed, one term of the pair almost always enjoying the privileged status over the other” (95). Therefore, in order to maintain male dominance and privilege over female, this proposition is “rigorously maintained-or even policed”(Carpenter 90). As soon as Elisa tries to break through the confinement of her gender, she inevitably bruises herself.The opening imagery sets the tone for the whole story. It not only depicts the protagonist Elisa Allens repressive life, but also foreshadows her inevitable disillusionment. The Salinas Valley is described as “closed off” by the “high grey-flannel fog of winter”; the fog “sat like a lid on the mountains and made of the great valley a closed pot” (Steinbeck 169).There is a prevailing sense of repression and confinement. Yet the repressive sense is mixed somehow with glimmering hope. We are told that the land floor of the valley is plowed deeply to receive the expected rains. “It was a time of quiet and of waitingthe light wind blew up so that the farmers were hopeful of a good rain” (169). The land is expecting the nourishing rains; the protagonist is in a vague yearning of a relief from the barren and confined life. But the promise of rain is an irony: “fog and rain do not go together” (169). Similarly, the hope of breaking through the “closed pot” for Elisa is an illusion.When Elisa Allen first appears in the story, she is working in her flower garden with her chrysanthemums, while across the yard, her husband Henry is talking business with two businessmen by the tractor shed. Distinctly two worlds in binary oppositions of gender are presented to us: one is the female world of gardening and housekeeping, the other is the male world of business, machinery and farming. However, the problem of this distinction is immediately shown in the images of Elisas house and her way of gardening. The little house is “hard-swept”, the windows are “hard-polished” and even the mud-mat on the front steps is “clean” (italics added). She is doing more than good. Obviously, housekeeping is far from being a sufficient challenge for such an energetic and strong woman. Consequently, she pours her energy onto the gardening. Wearing a heavy “gardening costume”, “a mans black hat”, and “clodhopper shoes”, she works in a way a man treats his occupation; “even her work with the scissors was over-eager, over-powerful. The chrysanthemum stems seemed too small and easy for her energy” (169). Elisas bounded energy and potential finds its only outlet in growing chrysanthemums. But Henrys remarks on her flowers revealingly indicate the significance, or rather insignificance of her gardening: “Youve got a strong new crop coming” (170). Its ironical praise, with the implication that the chrysanthemums are NOT crops and therefore are not of any value in a pragmatic sense. If we regard chrysanthemums as a symbol related to Elisas potential, then this potential is neither recognized nor valued.The tinker comes, bringing double illusions for “rains-expecting” Elisa. First, he enchants Elisa with an aura of a free life which Elisa has never had a taste of except in her imagination. In term of physical appearance, the sloppy stubble-beard tinker is by no means attractive. In fact, stopping in front of Elisas house, this strange sloppy team of man, horse, burro, and mongrel dog strikingly contrast with Elisas neat and clean house and wire-fenced garden. However, the tinkers nomadic and free way of life in the wagon “sounds like a nice kind of a way to live” to Elisa, awakening her lurking yearning for a different unbounded life (172). After conversing with the tinker for a while, she expresses her wish explicitly: “It must be nice. I wish women could do such things.” But, the tinkers answer- “it aint the right kind of a life for a woman” (175)-indicates equally explicitly that this way of living is only for man, not “right” for woman. Elisa is wishing for something beyond her gender.The tinkers insincere praise of the chrysanthemums constitutes a deceiving evaluation of Elisas worth and potential, bringing another illusion for Elisa. Finding that the tinker is interested in her flowers, “the irritation and resistance melted from Elisas face” (173). Too excited in finding a person who knows the worth and value of her work, Elisa fails to notice the discernible lies in the tinkers oily words. She eagerly and excitedly transplants the buds for the tinker so that he can bring the flower to a lady who, as the reader knows, actually does not exist. The dramatic irony here echoes the irony in the opening imagery of false promise of the rain, building up continually until the last revelation for the protagonist. The encounter of the tinker and Elisa is also a confrontation between a man and a woman. Elisas eagerness to show her chrysanthemums results only from her excitement in finding a kindred spirit, but also is partly due to her intention to compete with the tinker in terms of competency for work. As we have noticed, the tinkers sloppiness is in striking contrast to Elisas competent neatness. He is not efficient and competent except when he starts his work. When Elisa hands the saucepans for him to repair, “his manner changed. He became professional” (174). But, Elisa launches her challenge. “You might be surprised to have a rival some time. I can sharpen scissors, too. And I can beat the dents out of little pots. I could show you what a woman might do” (175). In terms of capability, Elisa is probably a far better worker. In offering the chrysanthemum buds she plants, Elisa shows her capacity and obtains a sense of triumphant pride. Enchanted by the free life of the tinker, and intoxicated by her sense of unfolding potential, Elisa imagines the night in the wagon: “Every pointed star gets driven into your body. Its like that. Hot and sharp andlively” (174). If the statement is tinted with a sexual overtone, its more directed to the fascinating uninhibited life associated with the tinker rather than to the sloppy person himself. In this state of high-spirited fantasy, she murmurs good-bye to the tinker: “Thats bright direction. Theres a glowing there” (175).In the same state of mind, she returns to her house to have a bath before going to town with her husband. “In the bathroom she tore off her soiled clothes and flung them into the corner. And then she scrubbed herself with a little block of pumiceuntil her skin was scratched and red” (176). She has to hold back the surging passion by dressing slowly. “She put on her newest underclothing and her nicest stockings and the dress which was the symbol of her prettiness. She worked carefully on her hair, penciled her eyebrows and rouged her lips” (176). Here the image of Elisa forms a contrast to her image in the garden. If we believe the garden image indicates Elisas so-called “masculinity,” then this one obviously asserts her “femininity.” Elisa seems to take on different gender features. Once again, gender features are called into question. A single either /or designation of gender, which speaks of our tendency for binary oppositions, is problematic when used to describe Elisa, who cannot be comfortably put into this arbitrary label. On the other hand, this change also corresponds to Elisas development of her sense of self. In the garden, Elisa assumes a mans image in order to snatch a slice of privilege from mans worldthe privilege of having ones own occupation. Convinced, after the encounter with the tinker, of her female potential, she is more confident with her female self. Instead of hiding her female self under the guise of a man, she is now proudly manifesting it, unfolding herself like her chrysanthemums in full bloom. This change is, however, quite puzzling for Elisas husband. The latter blunders bewilderedly and helplessly upon seeing his wife in the house: “you look different, strong and happy.” When Elisa boasts, “I am strong,” Henry is almost stricken with fear. The familiar image of his wife seems to have undergone a mysterious change. However, “Henry looked down toward the tractor shed, when he brought his eyes back to her, they were his own again” (176). He regains his composure. The world is still the old world under his-mans-control. The realization of the same fact does not come to Elisa until she is on the way to Salinas. “Far ahead on the road Elisa saw a dark speck. She knew” (177). The tinker has deserted her chrysanthemum buds on the road. The chrysanthemum, whose value has not been recognized by the husband, is now more heartlessly deserted by the tinker. Ironically, that man has thrown away her treasure and kept the pot; the latter is obviously regarded as more useful. The unusual briefness of the statement “she knew” is charged with tension between the overwhelming pang of disappointment and Elisas ultimate effort to hold it down. The briefness of the sentence also implies the simplicity of the truth revealed to Elisa. This is the moment of epiphany for Elisa. She knows that all the while she has been manipulated by the tinker and cheated by the illusion he brings to her; she knows that her aspiration of unconfined fulfillment is totally impossible in this male dominated world; she knows that if she goes outside of the “fence” of her confined world and attempts something beyond what the society assigns for her gender, she inevitably bruises herself. Seized by an impulse to fight back and disgusted by the cruelty of men in their subjugation of their fellow creatures, Elisa asks Henry: “at those prize fights, do the men hurt each other very much?” (177) But when Henry asks her whether she really wants to go to the prizefights, she “relaxes limply in the seat.” “Oh, no. No. I dont want to go. Im sure I dont” (177). She has no courage to venture any further into mans world now. “It will be enough if we can have wine. It will be plenty” (177). From “gardening” to “wine”, thats the farthest way Elisa could go. Gardening, which is usually a female job but also occasionally attempted by men, can be done by Elisa with a tint of so-called “masculinity”; wine, which is a drink usually for a man, but is also allowed for a woman, can be drunk by Elisa without the danger of raising brows from the society. Elisa has been venting her repressed energy and emotion through planting chrysanthemums, and now she can only resort to the wine to quench her frustrated aspiration and to solace her bruised self-esteem. Elisa “was crying weaklylike an old woman” (177). She is a withered chrysanthemum now. The use of third-person objective point of view in the story is significant. First, it forms a constrained point of view, corresponding with the fact that a females heart is generally not understood by the male world. In the story, neither husband nor tinker tries to comprehend Elisas inner feelings. Second, this narrative technique helps add ambiguity and complexity to the