Monday, September 30, 2013

the downfalls of Wing and a creature

Why are we so drawn to tragedy and violence?

From TV shows to video games, novels to movies, these two characteristics draw the attention of many individuals. Sure, there are pacifists and peacemakers, optimists and promoters of love, but they would never have been drawn to peace and happiness hadn't there been war and sadness. Only once the effects and emotions of conflict became known have these individuals yearned for halcyon. 

While reading Winesburg, Ohio, I can honestly say I was instantly drawn to the stories in which some violent, tragic event took place. I did get a rush from analyzing seemingly innocent passages and finding hidden meanings behind them -- Wash Williams and his garden? Hell-ooo, fertility symbolism! -- but I was most interested in the cataclysms of the work, specifically those of Wing Biddlebaum.

Within "Hands," we learn of Wing and his tragic backstory as a school teacher. Accused of touching his children, he is physically beaten by one of the fathers of the students he taught; "tired of beating the master, [he] had begun to kick him about the yard" (Anderson 32). Even more sickening, Wing is attacked by angry townspeople, "throwing sticks and great balls of soft mud" (Anderson 33). His fear and weakness were fuels for the townspeople, who continue to torment him until he is eventually driven out of the town. 

This portion of the story greatly resembles one of Mary Shelley's Frankenstein, in which Frankenstein's creature is chased out of a village. Just as in "Hands," the creature was attacked, "grievously bruised by stones and many other kinds of missile weapons" (Shelley 74). The creature, grossly misunderstood, is unable to reveal his docile nature as a result of his disfigured appearance; on the other hand, Wing is misunderstood, and although he's able to express his quiet character, he chooses not to. 

So why is it that the creature chooses to act out while Wing remains closed off?

Perhaps it is because the creature has never experienced the love associated with a parent, with a partner, or with a friend. His attempts to find a companion failed; his struggles to communicate with others were met with disdain; his deeds of kindness were not returned. Having received only hate and never love, the creature became consumed with this hatred that triggered an impulse to lash out.

In Wing's case, he has the experience of a schoolteacher to tell him what it's like to be loved. Leading up to his horrifying escape from town, Wing was "much loved by the boys of his school" (Anderson 31); he has significant knowledge of expressing love and receiving that love in return. It was the sudden violent acts against him that led Wing to doubt himself, to believe that he had lost the love he had once treasured dearly. With this belief, he begins to hide his major means of expressing love: his hands. 

The tragic downfalls of Wing Biddlebaum and Frankenstein's creature are not dissimilar; they both made decisions that would either hide or eliminate the love they had within themselves. It's these decisions that makes me so interested in them. I wonder if their lives would've been so marred with tragedy and violence had they not made these decisions.

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