I'm very hungry.
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Kenny, first let me say that I think I mis-used the word depraved. I think the other ones I used (lonely, alienated, (i forget completely)) are more accurate. I guess I meant he was deprived now that I think about it more. He wasn't evil, but he was deprived of a certain sense of peace and a certain sense of personhood. I felt he was deprived of an equilebrium and sense of belonging- which is very important.
The narrative was a bit tedious in a way, but I loved the story. It took some getting used to. I loved his little step-brother (the one who admits his sins so honestly and has great devotion to the church and to God) and I like, as I said before, his perspective on things.
As the story went along, and as I finished the book, I realized how many people in this world are lonely (root word of lonely: is to "to long for") alienated, disconnected and dis-integrated prime conditions for an addict! It is sad and hopeless but real.
It's interesting because the past few books I've read have all taken place in the South (The Firm: Mephis, The Moviegoer: New Orleans, and now, The Adventures of Huck Finn: Mississippi River and surrounding states). Makes me feel cold up here, but that ain't no matter.
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This is a great article.
http://www.godspy.com/magazine/redeemed/
"Alcoholics and addicts know this kind of thing about themselves, which is why, in spite of their other myriad shortcomings, they tend to be the funniest, and often oddly spiritual people on earth. Of course I would think that being one myself. In fact, I have a theory that’ll all addiction is, at bottom, a search for God.
Think about it: the blackout--a crude form of mystical union; the willingness to sacrifice reputation, family, money, health, one’s very life—a twisted martyrdom. Sometimes I think anyone as drawn as I am to suffering would have had to become a Catholic. But truly, it’s a gift to have seen the depths to which I’ll fall, the extent to which I’ll compromise myself, the lengths to which I’m willing to go to avoid God. The problem with avoiding God is that next thing I know, I’ve latched onto something outside myself, established a substitute God; and he, she, or it is holding me in complete bondage. To me, the fall doesn’t mean I’m bad (though in one way I actually am pretty bad) and that God hates me. It means I’m broken and I need help. "
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thought i should do this as a comment underneath the post:
ReplyDeleteok, i agree now with your analysis of binx, especially the part about him lacking a sense of personhood. a theme in percy's writing, in my opinion, is that it is actually reasonable, in a sense, to be depressed and to despair. i liked those quotes you chose before about him knowing he was in despair. this is a major current in existentialism ever since kierkegaard. kierkegaard's long essay, "the sickness unto death" is about precisely this. he says that it is extremely rare for a man to not be objectively in despair, but that most people are in despair but do not realize it. not realizing it makes it worse, in fact, because you are in less of a position to do anything about it. camus, too, valued what he called lucidity. i define this as the ability to see clearly the existential state of your being. i see a lot of influence in thomas merton from these thinkers, especially in passages where he states the benefits of confronting anxiety, our own emptiness, and things like that. this kind of thinking is hyper-critical of stances of abstract optimism based on anything but concrete immediate experience.