Precision
and Depth in Flannery OConnors Short Stories
Karl-Heinz Westarp
Aarhus (Denmark): Aarhus University Press, 2002.
16.95 euros, 146 pages, ISBN 87-7288-937-3.
Georges-Claude Guilbert
Université de Rouen
Karl-Heinz Westarp is associate professor at the department of English,
Aarhus University. Judging by the list of the authors
previously published material on OConnor that completes
the bibliography of Precision and Depth in Flannery OConnors
Short Stories, he has spent much of the last twenty years reading
and writing about Flannery OConnor. Westarp has been repeatedly
published in The Flannery OConnor Bulletin (seemingly
soon to become The Flannery OConnor Review), and few
will question his authority on the subject. As he tells us, he has
extensively researched her manuscripts, which are to be found at the
Ina Dillard Russell Library in Milledgeville, Georgia (her hometown).
Considering the title of this book, I was mistakenly expecting a study
of precision and depth in OConnors stories
as they stand. So I cannot help feeling that he makes a little bit
too much of the manuscripts. After all, we are dealing with a twentieth-century
author, and it is not very risky to assume that the texts OConnor
agreed to see in print (in book form at any rate) can be seen as what
readers should primarily read and what literary critics should primarily
study. Maybe I lack imagination; as a mundane lecturer teaching OConnor
I may be thinking too much in terms of immediate student use. So when
Westarp builds on manuscript studies, manuscript
evidence, or wonders, how do the final changes affect
the story as a whole?, I find myself wishing he had more straightforwardly
examined the texts that can be found at the bookstore of your local
mall. Hoping (probably against all odds) that my undergraduates as
readers will enjoy OConnor, Im not sure they want
to know that OConnor had written, say, bee in a
first draft, and then opted for wasp. The second choice
might be immensely more adequate, but if they appreciate it only because
they know that there was a less inspired first choice, isnt
their fun (Im being wildly optimistic here) somewhat
spoilt? This minor objection only concerns chapters I and II, however,
which are by no means uninteresting. On the contrary. As a scholar
I found them rather thrilling.
Chapters III, IV, V, and VI, concerned with translucency in
OConnors settings, mystery and evil, as well as
with very helpful comparisons with Eudora Welty and Walker Percy,
are much more traditional in terms of literary criticism; some might
even say too traditional, since the shadow of Derrida certainly does
not hover over these pages. The precision and depth of the title are
mostly of a spiritual nature, obviously. Even people who have never
read more than one or two OConnor stories know that she is a
Catholic. Indeed it is quite impossible to study her without delving
into it, even if one decides to privilege the Southern and / or gothic
angle. Westarp succeeds in showing that on the whole OConnor
reached her aim, i.e. to write fiction where every word serves her
religious vision, if not message. OConnor was fully aware
of the detrimental impact that her religious upbringing might have
upon her prose, writes Westarp [14]. She was aware that her
religious convictions could discourage some readers, the people
who think God is dead, as she put it. Westarp reminds us of
the often bad reception of her books as they were released in her
lifetime, and of the accusations of gratuitous grotesque. As OConnor
saw it, when as a Christian with firm convictions you are addressing
spiritually near-blind and near-deaf people, you generously splatter
your garish colors and scream your philosophical / theological concepts
in their ear. I am paraphrasing one of her most famous and constantly
quoted lines, which is: To the hard of hearing you shout and
for the almost blind you draw large and startling figures.
Westarp is particularly good when he undertakes to trace Teilhard
de Chardins influence on OConnors work. He begins
with a reminder of a text most OConnor exegetes have read, Ralph
C. Woods The Heterodoxy of Flannery OConnors
Book Reviews, published in 1976 in The Flannery OConnor
Bulletin. In that article, Wood attempts to show that OConnors
(uneven) book reviews and her fiction indicate a critique rather
than a vindication of Teilhard de Chardins special brand
of mysticism, notably when it comes to his approach to science and
evolution. Westarp disagrees with Wood, and his refutation is very
convincing. Of course, as OConnor seems to have become
aware of Teilhard de Chardin only after the American publication of
The Phenomenon of Man in 1959 [82], his influence on
her writing is not to be found in the early work. One cannot help
wondering how different (if at all) Wise Blood (1952), The
Violent Bear It Away (1960) and the stories of A Good Man is
Hard to Find (1955) would have been if she had read Teilhard de
Chardin before writing them. They might conceivably have been hardly
different at all, since there is ample evidence in them that in many
respects OConnor and Teilhard de Chardin shared numerous ideas
to begin with. Westarp tells us that when OConnor began studying
him, she found Teilhard difficult reading [86], but she
adopted Teilhardian thinking as her own [83]. That is
slightly exaggerated. Such thinking is indeed at work in the story
entitled Parkers Back (Everything That Rises
Must Converge, 1965). Westarp identifies it persuasively in the
progress of a man, Parker, who after a series of very Old Testament
events decides to go to a tattoo parlor and get the haloed head
of a flat stern Byzantine Christ with all-demanding eyes tattooed
on his back. He already has many tattoos. Later, Parker knows that
the eyes that were now forever on his back were eyes to be obeyed.
He was as certain of it as he had ever been of anything. The
tattoo will remain unappreciated by his religious wife
Sarah Ruth. Westarp concludes:
Flannery OConnor has dramatized a heresy, which is the backcloth
for the drama of the history of the universe from the creation to
its final fulfillment in the cosmic point Omega, who is already with
us in Christ. Moreover, she has dramatized Teilhards scientific-philosophical-theological
vision in a unique way. Against Sarah Ruths bloodless denial
of the flesh and heretical misunderstanding of Christian life, she
placeswith Teilharda Christian spirituality, which accepts
with all its consequences that The Word was made flesh
(Jn 1:14). The order of the tattoos on Parkers body is the symbolic
rendering of the inner life of the creation and its convergence towards
Christ. However, the eschatological point Omega is not reached yet,
and the entire creation is still groaning under the retarded effect
of evil. Only if Sarah Ruth opens her eyes to the light shining through
Parkers back, i.e., only if mankind opens its eyes for Christ
and freely accepts His offer, will the child of the future or the
future generation, move further towards convergence in Omega.
The book lacks an overall conclusion, but is on the whole appealing
enough to make one try to locate Westarps previous OConnor
material. Flannery OConnor is sometimes underrated, and books
like this contribute to dispel certain misapprehensions. She wrote
in Mystery and Manners (1962) that the fiction writer needs
to have anagogical vision, he must cultivate [it] if he is ever
going to write stories that have any chance of becoming a permanent
part of our literature. Well, her stories definitely have. These
days in the US alone, some five book-length critical studies come
out every year, and OConnor creeps up everywhere. As Hilton
Als puts it in the New Yorker, one can hear her syntax
and thoughts in the stories of Raymond Carver, in Robert Duvalls
brilliant movie The Apostle, [and] in the Samuel L. Jackson
characters final monologue in Pulp Fiction.
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