I find the way that dialogue works in Autobiography of Red by Anne Carson compelling and confusing at the same time, reflective of what Carson wants the reader to question or think about. The choice of how to represent dialogue and distinguish which characters are speaking is a very deliberate one, it has to be, because the novel is in verse. And, because the narration of the novel is ambiguous and nuanced. An example of this use of dialogue in verse that stuck with me is a scene of one-sided conversation between Geryon (who doesn’t speak) and his mother:
“Nobody sees him around, is it true he lives in a trailer park– that where you / go at night? / Geryon moved the focal ring from 3 to 3.5 meters. / Maybe I’ll just keep talking / and if I say anything intelligent you can take a picture of it. She inhaled. / I don’t trust people who / move around only at night. Exhaled. Yet I trust you. I lie in bed at night thinking, / Why didn’t I / teach the kid something useful. Well–she took a last pull on the cigarette– / you probably know / more about sex than I do — and turned to stub it in the sink as he clicked the shutter” (40).
Carson establishes the dialogue system early on in the novel — what is said out loud is in italics, and you can pretty much contextually estimate or guess who exactly is speaking, at least most of the time. However, in this section, dialogue gets a bit lost in the room. There are two people present: Geryon and his mother. But Geryon doesn’t speak or reply, he’s just there, listening. And so, as the mother continues her reverie, there is an increasing feeling of Geryon’s vocal absence, and his immersion in his camera. Perhaps that is why her speech gets jumbled. The line “Why didn’t I / teach the kid something useful” (40), is unexpectedly not italicized. It’s immediately noticeable because at that point, the italics have become recognizable as speech versus inner thought. So, Carson is having us question: where did those words come from?
There is a possibility, I think, that in that moment the space, mental or physical, between Geryon and his mother is blurred. Perhaps, since we as the readers receive the story from Geryon’s perspective, that is something that Geryon himself projects upon his mother. Or, more simply, that sentence is not said out loud, but something that the mother says inside her own head. A moment where lines are blurred, conventions or systems of thought or verse strayed away from. Is this a moment of queer space, perhaps?
What even this small moment, even a small difference in form like italics, plays with is the complexity of Geryon’s “inside” and “outside,” that is established early on. When are we inside Geryon’s head and which moments are outside?
Great catch here. It’s absolutely interesting how Carson establishes rules in this book (rules which are already non-standard), so that the reader knows to pay attention when she breaks both regular rules and her own. That the italics conventions begin to break as Geryon mentally retreats from his mother’s phone conversation is a very good hypothesis, and your theory that “Why didn’t I teach the kid something useful” being said either mentally or under her breath also seems to make sense, especially since the phrase in which the italics pick back up again could theoretically end the last italic sentence fragment. Reading the novel while paying close attention to where thoughts blur into speech absolutely gives a sharp understanding of Carson’s goals of how she wanted the reader to perceive Geryon.
This is a sharp close reading! As another commenter noted, rules are very present in Autobiography of Red despite its fantastical and irreverent nature, and you did a great job reading between the lines here. I’m especially intrigued by your flagging of blurred space or queer space between characters, and around Geryon. Positionality was heavily on my mind as I read this book. All over the place, there were words like “under,” “beneath,” “behind,” “in between,” et cetera. Geryon carries the metaphor of the cage throughout the story, of which he is inside. Even time is configured in relation to the characters—“rushing towards them” at the end (Carson 146). I absolutely agree that Carson is intentional with these details and descriptors, and when she leaves us in the dark, there’s a reason.
I really like how you dig into the slipperiness of dialogue in Autobiography of Red—especially how you notice the emotional weight of Geryon’s silence. Your point about the missing italics caught my attention too. I wonder if another way to think about that moment is that Carson is showing how Geryon and his mother’s inner lives are starting to overlap without either of them fully realizing it. Instead of just projecting onto his mother, maybe Geryon is also starting to internalize her regrets and doubts as part of his own inner narrative. It feels like another way Carson blurs boundaries, not just between characters’ voices, but between feeling and memory, self and other.
I really appreciate this analysis, espeically your thoughts on the italics. I love the question you pose about the queer space that opens up when formal boundaries break down. It made me think about how silence, or the refusal to clarify, can be just as expressive as speech in Autobiography of Red. Your framing of the moment as one where “dialogue gets lost in the room” captures that beautifully.