Political Activism in Nadine Gordimer's Short Stories.pdf

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Pleasure and Joy: Political Activism in Nadine Gordimer's Short StoriesAuthor(s): Barbara EcksteinSource: World Literature Today, Vol. 59, No. 3 (Summer, 1985), pp. 343-346Published by: Board of Regents of the University of OklahomaStable URL: http://www.jstor.org/stable/40140839 .Accessed: 26/07/2013 10:07

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Pleasure and Joy: Political Activism in Nadine Gordimer's Short Stories

By BARBARA ECKSTEIN I know a recent college graduate, a young white man from an ordi-

nary, comfortable suburb of an American Midwestern city. At Kenyon College he studied Central American history and culture, and now he is a political activist, living sometimes in Central America but mostly in the city where he grew up. Not too long ago I asked him if he sees much of his parents, who still live in the suburb across town. "No, not much," he explained. "They're into pleasure and I'm into joy." When I began thinking about all the characters in Nadine Gordimer's short stories who try to be activists or try not to be, I was reminded of my friend and his parents. Because true political activism does aspire to a secularized transcen- dence and political passivity does seek pleasure to numb reality, his dichotomy is useful in pinpointing what distinguishes political activists from others. One would think, moreover, that in a society as compartmentalized as South Africa's, this distinction between activists and others - in fact, any self and other - would be clearcut. However, most particularly in a nation whose official governmental policy since 1948 has been to mystify the black other as enemy and so promote dichotomist, we-they thinking, no dichotomy of humanity can withstand careful scrutiny. Careful, skeptical, but compassionate scrutiny is exactly the method of Nadine Gordimer's short stories.

John Cooke, Stephen Clingman, and others who have studied Gordimer's novels see in them a general movement from personal to political interaction and, in many of the novels, a direct response to the political context of a particular phase in South African history. l I am persuaded that this perception of a progression in the novels is well founded. The short stories, however, are different. Because short stories, at their best, have the resonance of a lyric, they can often be prescient in a way a novel cannot. A writer may well have an inkling of a complex vision beyond social dichotomies, find an image to embody that inkling, and thus create a very provocative short story. Still, a writer needs more than an inkling and an image to sustain a fictional society for the course of a novel. Even though Gordimer's novels show a development away from compartmentalized personal lives toward a holistic social vision, from the 1950s onward her short stories have suggested the kind of ambiguities that confound one's efforts to separate self from other, hero from enemy, even pleasure from joy-

"Is There Somewhere Else Where We Can Meet? " published in 1953, is just such a story. Simply put, it seems to be the story of a young white woman who,

finding herself alone in a deserted lot, encounters a ragged black man who robs her. This is the apparent action of the story, but there is no unequivocal evidence to confirm the truth of this appearance. Cooke, who does himself read the story as a robbery, nevertheless provides the terms to describe the story in another way. He suggests the terms camera-eye and painterly for two techniques Gordimer uses: the first is a detached perspective; the second, engaged.2 "Some- where Else" is a painterly story. The writer is very engaged in the fearful perception of the white woman as her eye flies past the landscape to the one use of red paint, the cap on the black man's head. Plunged into blind fear and unable to focus on anything else, the woman is thrown totally off balance as she and the red cap approach one another. The characters' movement has such a dizzying effect that after they are face to face, it is impossible to tell exactly what their ensuing ac- tions are. Writer and reader are enveloped in the fear felt by the woman, who is the central consciousness: "Every vestige of control, of sense, of thought, went out of her as a room plunges into dark at the failure of power. "3

In this dark room of fear without sense or thought, she sees what she has anticipated all her life: assault by a black man. However, in this dark room the reader cannot be certain that the character's "awful dreams came true," because the black man's movements are always a response to the white woman's; he may be steadying her, after all, and not robbing her. In her fear she is not able to consider this possibility. So when she "fumbled crazily" with her packages, and then "his hand clutched her shoulder," she is forced to interpret this as "grabbing out at her." She fights him; he responds by "jerking her back." She drops her packages; he responds - as she puts it - by "falling upon them." He may, in fact, be picking them up. In the dark room of fear one sees only the images of one's own night- mares; they may or may not truly be embodied in some external reality.

The beautifully created tension and ambiguity in this story allow for a vision beyond personal fear. Be- cause the woman has confronted her fear of the other, she may have taken the first step toward political commitment to change herself and her society. When she first enters the barren dreamscape at the beginning of the story, her eye is riveted on the red cap. Knowing that it is what she fears, she is propelled toward it, not in a death wish, as Freud might have it, but rather in an instinctual desire for survival. The desire to know that which one fears, to imagine what is real - no matter its horror - is the raw material for the thought and action


344 WORLD LITERATURE TODAY

that makes personal and social survival possible.4 Thus the young South African woman is compelled to leave her white female isolation and confront the two- personed other she has been conditioned to fear and distrust: the black "peril" the South African Nationalist Party has created to unify white voters, and the black male with whom sexual interaction is illegal and im- moral. When she does face the mythical other, she discovers that, though she cannot see clearly, she can survive.

Only after literally grappling with the black man does she realize, first, that she is relieved when she stops fighting and, second, that whether or not he was robbing her, it was silly to fight for her money, which she needs so much less than he. She uncovers at least this much reality by jeopardizing her security. At the end of the story she is described as an "invalid" picking burrs from her stockings. No longer protected and imprisoned by the pleasures and forces of isolation, she is vulnerable. Transcendent joy is hardly at hand, but it is now a possibility for this survior. Her meeting with the black man has not been pleasant, but for a moment she and the African did stand on the common ground of Africa, which runs from under one prison to under another.5

In "The Smell of Death and Flowers," a more dis- cursive story published in 1956, a young white woman takes her first overt political action. Having just re- turned to Africa after five years in England, she is very correct and bored with her prettiness. At a party given by white liberals she "feels nothing," she thinks, and so it is only whimsy that makes her decide to join the white activists on a protest march into the black quar- ter. Her participation at the march is like her attend- ance at the party: unfeeling politeness. Only her sense of etiquette prevents her from leaving. Even after the marchers are arrested, she again thinks, "I feel nothing"; but in the police station her "psychic numbing"6 constitutes an even more emphatic defense against seeing what is real than it did at the party. Not until she is being booked and thereby becoming the victim whom others, including blacks, observe does she recognize the observer she has been and so see the arbitrary will of white supremacy which they have felt. Gordimer writes, "And she felt suddenly, not nothing"7

"Not nothing" is something, but it is not much. Unlike the young woman in the earlier story who enters the dark room alone, this woman moves dis- interestedly into an established society of activists. Her transformation is sudden and guarded. Unable to feel pleasure at the party, she also stands at a great distance from any joyful release that follows political engagement. She does not grapple with her fear in pursuit of knowledge that will free her from an isolated, inherited point of view. Her vision of herself as a victim of the white god, as the blacks have been vic- tims, and the feeling that attends this vision may be a genuine epiphany, but the vision may also be a sen-

timental one which cannot break down the barriers of dichotomies. This pretty protagonist may be like some of the American activists in the sixties whom Chris- topher Lasch describes: young people from the sub- urbs who demonstrated not out of commitment or even fear, but because demonstrations suddenly produced a feeling that broke through numbness like a halluci- nogen or amphetamine.8 Because "The Smell of Death and Flowers" is a camera-eye account and not a painterly story, and because its protagonist is more thoroughly numbed, it is less successful in complicat- ing dichotomies than is "Somewhere Else." It does clearly show, however, that all the folks on one side of the police barriers are not of the same self. It also suggests that the distance between liberalism and political activism is no shorter than that between con- servatism and political change.9

Even armed with awareness and feeling, those who take action to alleviate injustice so as to break out of the isolation into which they were born cannot suffer the exact fate of those without choice. In South Africa this means no white activist, no matter how often she is jailed, will ever be black. After the heyday of interracial political action in the fifties, then the Sharpe- ville massacre in 1960 and the subsequent banning of the African National Congress, this fact came home to South Africa's black activists. Forced to go under- ground, they chose to work alone. The white activists were left to wonder if they would ever be able to struggle with or know the Africans.

Never sanguine about the possibilities of interracial- ism, Gordimer most explicitly shows this skepticism in several stories from the sixties and seventies, particularly "Not for Publication," "Open House," and "A Soldier's Embrace." Of these, "A Soldier's Embrace" is the most confounding, for it shows that even when black and white activists work together and succeed, their success inexplicably segregates them. In this story a white woman is caught up in a street party celebrating the liberation of an African state from a white-minority government. The woman and her husband, a lawyer who has defended black activists, have worked with the blacks for just such a liberation. So when, simultaneously, she is hugged in the street by both a white soldier (a European mercenary) and a black soldier, the visceral experience seems the per- fect image of the new state. After the liberation, however, their black friends are, in fact, cool; they are engrossed in the task of setting up a government in- dependent of any whites' advice. Sadly, with or without whites' advice, the likelihood is that independence will not be freedom for the new state, because all southern Africa is economically dependent upon South African white-supremacist capitalism.10 So this new state is destined to flounder and suffer, and even the most well-meaning whites are destined to move else- where to a stable economy, where they can practice their professions and run their businesses. Still, when the white couple in the story finally do decide to move,


ECKSTEIN 345

their African friend, earlier businesslike and cool, now cries. There is some genuine feeling embedded in their history of struggle together, however separate that togetherness has been, yet their success confounds everyone's identity. As they drive away, the woman thinks, "The right words would not come again/'11 The woman's pleasure in the soldiers' embraces might have been joy, since they have all worked for such liberation; but it is not.

Gordimer has stated several times that in South Africa no division is more absolute than that between the races. 12 In her short stories, however, she does not always accept the inevitability of this division. In a number of stories about activism and marriage, she explores all the permutations and combinations of connection and disjunction: is the most pronounced differ- ence between activists and nonactivists (regardless of race and sex), between men and women (regardless of political commitment and race), or between blacks and whites (regardless of sex and political commitment)? Gordimer's stories of marriage, like Chaucer's "Mar- riage Group," come up with every possible answer to the questions they raise. Though others might well be added, the stories to which I am referring are "Six Feet of the Country" (1956), "Something for the Time Being" (1960), "A Chip of Glass Ruby" (1965), "Some Monday for Sure" (1965), and "A Soldier's Embrace" (1975). The complexities of the connections in these stories make them some of Gordimer's best.

" A Chip of Glass Ruby" must be singled out because it contains an Indian heroine with a true Gandhian heart. She succeeds if not in all her poliltical goals, at least in being thoroughly alive by remembering and attending to the myriad details of political commitment and family. When her surly husband is both annoyed and awed by his wife's ability to remember his birthday even when she is in prison, his daughter explains her mother to him:

" 'It's because she doesn't

want anybody to be left out [that] she always remem- bers.' "13 Even the husband comes to realize he de- sires his wife because she not only survives, she lives. She has the very rare ability to sustain joy.

Due to the limits of space, I will have to leave the intricacies of the "Marriage Group" for another essay. Instead I would like to look at Gordimer's most recent work, the novella "Something Out There," in which the dichotomies of activists and others, men and women, and blacks and whites all have an opportunity to complicate one another. At the beginning of the story, what is "out there" is some sort of wild primate which is terrorizing the white suburb, an obvious inva- sion of Africa into the isolated white enclave. Fear prohibits even those who see the primate from describ- ing it with any accuracy, and fear feeds on itself until all the self-involved insecurities of the white suburbanites are externalized in the body of the primate "out there.

"

The great irony of the novella is that while the news- papers and neighbors are obsessed with the ape, four human terrorists establish themselves on the edge of

the suburb and, after careful planning, blow up the power station. This irony works nicely, but it is not what most interests me about the novella.

What interests me is that the terrorists enter the area and rent a house without fuss because the white man and woman terrorist pose as a young married couple soon to have a baby. Of course, the suburbanites are taken in by the disguise, but it is the meaning of the sham marriage and sham pregnancy for the terrorists that is intriguing. Once lovers, the young couple, Charles and Joy, continue to pursue their radical political action despite the dissolution of their personal relationship. This is admirable enough in light of several of the marriage stories in which characters refuse to see their compromised ideals in order to maintain a marriage. The novella certainly too gives ample evidence of joyless married suburbanites assuaged by pleasure. Nevertheless, Charles and Joy's ability to feign marriage and pregnancy without any notable second thoughts is a numbness of its own. Joy, in particular, can play the game of the young pregnant wife at the suburban grocery store with aplomb but is never shown making any connections with this life from which she originated. 14 For her, the white suburbanites are as other and "out there" as the ape is to the suburbanites. They are simplified, externalized evil. Because she does not feel the loss of what she has left or the viability of others' lives - however narrowly lived - her political commitment is its own ideological, walled garden. Joy does not live up to her name. That she would be only feigning pregnancy seems appropri- ate.

Still, I am not sure that this failure is entirely to be blamed on the character. Gordimer's portraits of the Afrikaners who rent Charles ancl Joy the house and of the other nouveau-riche whites terrorized by the ape are stinging portrayals of the pettiness of the bourgeoi- sie. So when we are told that Joy has come from such a home, it is not surprising that she thoroughly rejects it; but neither is her decision as human or as interesting as it could be. Despite the novella's being a satire, it is in other regards realistic enough to incorporate less exag- gerated, more complex portraits of the rising white middle class.

I am not defending the values of the white middle class - let alone white supremacy - or even any in- trinsic worth of marriage and pregnancy. However, when individuals born into this system of being leave it without any apparent struggle, I am skeptical of their ability to become truly engaged in any other struggle. Nonetheless, I should also say that Gordimer's novels demonstrate that she has been very aware of the struggle to leave home, however distasteful its values.15

The novella does present one character who ven- tures out to connect with the society that the radicals seek to change. Eddie, a young black activist, risks going into Johannesburg, the core of apartheid. Like the white woman in "Somewhere Else," he seems compelled to do the thing which most jeopardizes him.


346 WORLD LITERATURE TODAY

In the daytime the city is teeming with the lives of all races, and Eddie becomes a part of that life. He wan- ders the grocery-store aisles as though at a "vast exhibi- tion," window-shops along busy streets, buys himself some curried chicken, and is propositioned by a prosti- tute. South African society has treated him far worse than it has Joy, but he feels the necessity to remind himself of concrete lives and a bustling economy. Con- trasting alienated, white, Western antiheroes to Afri- can heroes, Gordimer has explained that African heroes, like Eddie, say yes, yes, yes by saying no; they suffer but are not sick at heart. 16 Eddie derives pleasure from what he must destroy, and so he knows the price not only of his failure - death or imprisonment or exile - but of his success. Knowledge does not change his commitment; it keeps that commitment human.

When Eddie returns to the hideout, he and Joy dance while Vusi plays his homemade saxophone and Charles looks on.1' Eddie again connects. In their isolated activist community, the white woman can approach the black man without fear and the black man can approach the white woman without rags. They all know, however, that the connection they make will soon be lost. After the power station is blown, one may be killed, all will be scattered, most will be in exile. It will be a long time before the filaments Eddie noise- lessly and patiently sends out can stick and per- manently hold. Perhaps that time will never come. In the meantime there is the possibility of joy for those who will risk it.

At their engaged and engaging best, Gordimer's short stories offer the reader not just "the pleasure of the text," but the joy of the text as well. We do not just luxuriate in the language; we rejoice in the commitment that confounds all dichotomies.

University of New Orleans

1 See Stephen Clingman, "Multi-Racialism, or A World of Strangers" Salmagundi, 62 (Winter 1984), pp. 32-61; John Cooke, Only Pursue: The Novels of Nadine Gordimer, Baton Rouge, Louisiana State University Press, 1985 (forthcoming); and John

Cooke, "African Landscapes: The World of Nadine Gordimer," WLT 52:4 (Autumn 1978), pp. 533-38. 2 Cooke, Only Pursue, p. 154. 3 Nadine Gordimer, "Is There Somewhere Else Where We Can Meet?" in her Selected Stories, New York, Penguin, 1976 (rpt. 1983), pp. 17-20. 4 Robert Jay Lifton, The Life of the Self: Toward a New Psycholo- gy, New York, Basic Books, 1976 (rpt. 1983), pp. 129-30. 5 In "The Novel and the Nation in South Africa" (TLS, 11 August 1961, pp. 520-23), Gordimer writes: "It is unlikely that while you are within the stockade thrown up around your mind by the situation about which you are reading, you will be aware that a common ground runs beneath your feet to beneath the stockade of another particular situation, and another." 6 Lifton replaces the Freudian term denial with psychic numbing, because denial focuses on individual, infantile repression, and Lifton wants to emphasize the individual affecting and affected by society. 7 Nadine Gordimer, "The Smell of Death and Flowers," in her Selected Stories, dd. 122-44. 8 Christopher Lasch, The Culture of Narcissism, New York, War- ner, 1979, pp. 57-70. 9 For more on the limitations of liberalism, see Kenneth Parker on A World of Strangers in "Nadine Gordimer and the Pitfalls of Liberalism," in The South African Novel in English: Essays in Criticism and Society, Kenneth Parker, ed., New York, Africana, 1978, pp. 114-30. 10 Donald Denoon, with Balam Nyeko and J. B. Webster, "Nationalisms" in Southern Africa since 1800, Washington, D.C., Praeger, 1973, pp. 214-29. More recently, Claude Robinson has demonstrated this same fact in his discussion of a Mozambique- South African pact in "Delicate Peace with Apartheid," The Nation, 22 September 1984, pp. 235-36.

Nadine Gordimer, "A Soldier's Embrace," in her collection A Soldiers Embrace, New York, Viking, 1980, pp. 7-22. 12 Nadine Gordimer, in "A Conversation with Nadine Gordimer" [interviews with Robert Boyers, Clark Blaise, Terence Diggory, and Jordan Elgrably], Salmagundi, 62 (Winter 1984), pp. 3-31. 13 Nadine Gordimer, "A Chip of Glass Ruby," in her Selected Stories, pp. 264-74. 14 Elizabeth Gerver notes the importance of Lukdcs's emphasis on connections ("Everything is linked to everything else") in her con- sideration of some of the women in Gordimer's novels, "Women Revolutionaries in the Novels of Nadine Gordimer and Doris Les- sing," World Literature Written in English, 17 (1978), pp. 38-50.

Cooke, "Leaving the Mother's House," in his Only Pursue, pp. 59-117, provides a great deal of evidence to support Gordimer on this point. 16 Nadine Gordimer, The Black Interpreters: Notes on African Writing. Johannesburg. Ravan. 1973. p. 9.

17 Nadine Gordimer, "Something Out There," Salmagundi, 62 (Winter 1984), pp. 118-92. See particularly pp. 165-72.

Fulvio Tomizza's Depiction of the Italo- Yugoslav Frontier

By ANTE KADlC Several years ago I published an article titled "Istria in Croatian Literature. "l At that time some

American friends recommended that I also deal with those Italians who wrote about this same province. The eastern and middle parts of Istria were indeed Croatian, but the majority of the city inhabitants on the western coast identified themselves as Italians. Although I have long been familiar with the works of certain Italian authors who are Istrian by origin (e.g.,

Giani Stuparich and P. A. Quarantotti Gambini), within the past few years I have become more and more interested in Istro-Triestine men of letters, particularly Italo Svevo, Umberto Saba, and Scipio Slataper.2 During my frequent visits to Trieste, perhaps on account of our linguistic and ideological closeness, my companions were mostly Slovene writers (e.g., Boris Pahor and Alojz Rebula). I even wrote a paper on how the Triestine question was reflected in Rebula's novel Sendni pies (The Shadows Are Dancing; I960).3


Article Contentsp. [343]p. 344p. 345p. 346

Issue Table of ContentsWorld Literature Today, Vol. 59, No. 3 (Summer, 1985), pp. 333-496Front MatterFrench Colonialism in Africa: The Early Novels of Ferdinand Oyono [pp. 333-337]The Metaphysical and Material Worlds: Ayi Kwei Armah's Ritual Cycle [pp. 337-342]Pleasure and Joy: Political Activism in Nadine Gordimer's Short Stories [pp. 343-346]Fulvio Tomizza's Depiction of the Italo-Yugoslav Frontier [pp. 346-354]Eeva Kilpi: Writer, Woman, Karelian, Finn [pp. 354-357]The Tragic Vision of Tangi Malmanche [pp. 357-363]The Graves of Connemara: Ireland's Mirtn Cadhain [pp. 363-373]Alienation, Nostalgia, and Homecoming: Editing an Anthology of Goan Literature [pp. 374-382]A Comparative Study of Basque and Yugoslav Troubadourism [pp. 382-385]CommentariesA "Golden Age" for Chinese Writers [pp. 386-389]Review: Mario Luzi's Latest Poetry [pp. 389-391]Fourth Revised Charter of the Neustadt International Prize for Literature [pp. 391-392]

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Finno-Ugric & Baltic LanguagesReview: untitled [pp. 458-459]Review: untitled [p. 459-459]Review: untitled [p. 459-459]Review: untitled [p. 460-460]Review: untitled [p. 460-460]Review: untitled [pp. 460-461]Review: untitled [p. 461-461]Review: untitled [pp. 461-462]Review: untitled [p. 462-462]Review: untitled [p. 462-462]Review: untitled [p. 463-463]Review: untitled [pp. 463-464]Review: untitled [p. 464-464]Review: untitled [pp. 464-465]Review: untitled [p. 465-465]Review: untitled [p. 465-465]Review: untitled [pp. 465-466]Review: untitled [p. 466-466]Review: untitled [pp. 466-467]Review: untitled [p. 467-467]Review: untitled [p. 467-467]Review: untitled [p. 467-467]

GreekReview: untitled [p. 468-468]Review: untitled [p. 468-468]Review: untitled [p. 469-469]Review: untitled [p. 469-469]Review: untitled [pp. 469-470]Review: untitled [p. 470-470]Review: untitled [pp. 470-471]Review: untitled [p. 471-471]Review: untitled [p. 471-471]Review: untitled [p. 471-471]Review: untitled [p. 471-471]Review: untitled [pp. 471-472]Review: untitled [p. 472-472]

Other European & American LanguagesReview: untitled [p. 472-472]Review: untitled [p. 473-473]Review: untitled [p. 473-473]Review: untitled [pp. 473-474]Review: untitled [p. 474-474]Review: untitled [p. 474-474]Review: untitled [p. 475-475]

Africa & the West IndiesReview: untitled [p. 475-475]Review: untitled [pp. 475-476]Review: untitled [p. 476-476]Review: untitled [pp. 476-477]Review: untitled [p. 477-477]Review: untitled [p. 477-477]Review: untitled [pp. 477-478]Review: untitled [p. 478-478]Review: untitled [p. 478-478]Review: untitled [pp. 478-479]Review: untitled [p. 479-479]Review: untitled [pp. 479-480]Review: untitled [p. 480-480]Review: untitled [pp. 480-481]Review: untitled [p. 481-481]Review: untitled [p. 481-481]Review: untitled [p. 481-481]Review: untitled [p. 481-481]

Near EastReview: untitled [p. 482-482]Review: untitled [pp. 482-483]Review: untitled [p. 483-483]Review: untitled [p. 483-483]Review: untitled [pp. 483-484]Review: untitled [p. 484-484]Review: untitled [pp. 484-485]Review: untitled [p. 485-485]Review: untitled [pp. 485-486]Review: untitled [p. 486-486]Review: untitled [pp. 486-487]

Asia & the PacificReview: untitled [p. 487-487]Review: untitled [pp. 487-488]Review: untitled [p. 488-488]Review: untitled [p. 488-488]Review: untitled [pp. 488-489]Review: untitled [p. 489-489]Review: untitled [pp. 489-490]Review: untitled [p. 490-490]Review: untitled [p. 490-490]Review: untitled [pp. 490-491]Review: untitled [p. 491-491]Review: untitled [p. 491-491]Review: untitled [p. 491-491]

Perspectives on World LiteratureReview: untitled [p. 492-492]Review: untitled [p. 492-492]Review: untitled [pp. 492-493]Review: untitled [p. 493-493]Review: untitled [pp. 493-494]Review: untitled [p. 494-494]

The Last Page [pp. 495-496]Back Matter

Documents

Political Activism in Nadine Gordimer's Short Stories.pdf