The Explosion that Changed Geryon’s Life

The cover of Autobiography of Red by Anne Carson is a very simple one. Other than the few words that tell the reader what the novel is and who it is written by, there is a picture of a volcano that has recently erupted. The way one can tell that is because of the smoke that is rising from the volcanic crater. Volcanoes are mentioned many times throughout the novel, but why is that? It is because Geryon unconsciously views Herakles as a volcano.

Geryon begins to form an interest in volcanoes because of Herakles. Herakles tells him the story of the “Volcano man” and from that point on, Geryon spends much of his life thinking about volcanoes. Simultaneously, he also spends much of his life thinking about Herakles. The times we as readers see Geryon thinking about volcanoes are the same times he is either around Herakles or remembering their time together. He obsesses over these two separate objects but always at the same time.

Geryon’s reasoning for this is the fact that Herakles erupted, and when he did that, he changed Geryon’s life forever. Volcanoes are looked to by some cultures as something to be feared but also something to be worshiped. They are seen as gods and so is Herakles. In the Greek myth of Herakles, he is a demigod, his father being Zeus and his mother being a mortal woman. He completed his 12 labors in order to achieve immortality. Herakles expects to be praised and worshiped, but does not care about anyone else. Just like a volcano, he is something that seems beautiful from a distance, but the closer you get to him and the more time you spend near him, he is bound to hurt you. Geryon learns that first-hand.

Years after his first relationship with Herakles, Geryon runs into him again. He forms a sexual relationship with Herakles once more, but learns to keep a distance from him, to put on an armor to protect him. Herakles gave him that armor. When a volcano explodes, lava is thrown from the giant mountain and covers the surrounding area. But lava is just molten rock, so once that rock cools down, it becomes another layer added to the earth, or for Geryon, it becomes armor. Geryon may love Herakles, but he has learned that he is not better than a volcano.

Red Wings, Telepaths, and Childhood Identity

After reading Autobiography of Red by Anne Carson, I found myself going back to Ruth Padel’s review of the book in the New York Times. In particular, I was taken by one section of the review in which she describes Geryon’s wings as standing “for creativity, its power and its pain.” It made me think about how Geryon’s wings, and the uniqueness of them, have influenced his development from childhood through adolescence, particularly in regard to how he sees himself. Being the only character in the book that has these physical characteristics, it’s easy to see how Geryon sees himself as alienated from all of the other, less-winged characters. Especially as a child, this sense of alienation can be really influential to how you are able to formulate your own identity, and for Geryon, I think he really sees himself as monstrous and strange as a result of his strange physical features.

Something similar is going on in another series I’ve been following pretty closely lately, called Spy x Family. A Japanese animated television series, Spy x Family focuses on a “fake” family named the Forger’s who are comprised of a father (Loid; a master spy), a mother (Yor; an assassin), and their child (Anya; a telepath). Particularly relevant in this case is Anya, who in the very first episode is adopted by Loid from an orphanage. Anya had a troubled history leading up to that point, experimented on by scientists from a certain “Project Apple” because of her psychic powers. In terms of how this relates to Geryon, I think it is very interesting to see how vehemently Anya is trying to prevent herself from revealing her nature as a telepath, even from her new parents, Loid and Yor, who she has come to love very much. She notes multiple times that if her father finds out about her powers, he may not want her anymore. While I don’t think she’s right about that, it is really interesting to see how Anya internalizes her secret powers as something that is actually a threat to the new life she’s created for herself with her new family. In a similar way to how Geryon feels alienated because of his wings, Anya sees her telepathic powers as something to be overcome rather than embraced openly.

I think both of these characters have very creative, unique ways of thinking that are different from their peers, largely due to the differences in how their bodies/minds work, and going beyond what Padel said in terms of creativity, I think both experiences actually fit somewhat neatly into narratives around queer childhood identity as well. This is more clear in Geryon, who actually expresses certain queer characteristics through his relationship with Herakles, than Anya, who is a very small child who mainly likes eating peanuts, watching cartoons, and being a little rascal. Even so, I think both characters deal with struggles that I think could really speak to queer kids everywhere who are trying to find their way in a world that doesn’t want them to be who they are, and are forced to grapple with the difficulties of trying to finding themselves in that unforgiving climate.

(P.S. I’ll also link the promotional trailer for Spy x Family for those who haven’t seen the show. I can’t recommend it enough.)

Inside vs. Outside

“If the body is not a “being,” but a variable boundary, a surface whose permeability is politically regulated, a signifying practice within a cultural field of gender hierarchy and compulsory heterosexuality, then what language is left for understanding this corporeal enactment, gender, that constitutes its “interior” signification on its surface?” (Butler, 139)

 

In Judith Butler’s “Gender Trouble,” they explore the idea that our bodies are constantly being perceived by others in our society. It’s impossible to escape the way our bodies signify gender to others because of the stylizations we have built over time surrounding sex and gender. In this sense, we almost lose control over our physical bodies. Once they are put out into the world, they are no longer ours. We may have our interior identity, but nonetheless we are expected to behave according to our perceived gender. Furthermore, Butler brings forth the concept of an interior gender and how this interior is connected to the exterior gender that we express, if it is at all.

 

The concept of interior vs. exterior gender relates to Anne Carson’s Autobiography of Red in that Geryon is a winged red monster who is very much aware of how he is seen because of it. He hides his wings in an overcoat because his external body will alter how people treat him in the world “It was not the fear of ridicule, to which everyday life as a winged red person had accommodated Geryon early in life…” (Carson 83). When I first read this it felt like a metaphor for queerness. The idea that a queer person is seen as a monster by others is definitely relevant. However, I think this has more to do with the ways in which our bodies perform. Without us asking them to, our bodies perform for each other through the significance we give them. 

 

This bodily performance is subconscious, as it’s ingrained into us from birth, with the speech act of a doctor declaring a gender (as we discussed in class). The doctor looks at the sex of the baby and says either “boy” or “girl.” From that moment on, the baby is categorized into certain expected behavioral patterns in relation to their exterior. Their bodies therefore are their gender, as the two are assumed to coincide. Thus, we rarely give thought to the idea that maybe the interior and exterior are separate. Geryon is a “monster” on the outside and is thus perceived to be a monster. Once his wings are revealed, he can’t change the way they are perceived. They don’t belong to him anymore, their meaning is created by others. People have made up their minds. Like Butler wrote, there is no language often used to define the inside. “…He thought about the difference between outside and inside. Inside is mine, he thought” (Carson 29). Interestingly, Geryon seems to believe that the inside belongs to him while the outside does not. He cannot control how his outside is perceived, but only he can control his inside. His wings may make him a monster to others on the outside, but the inside does not have to follow suit. He has the power to create his interior despite what the exterior signifies, a distinct separation between the body and the interior much like what Butler writes about.

sources:

Carson, Anne. Autobiography of Red: A Novel in Verse. McClelland & Stewart, 2016.

“Judith Butler, Gender Trouble: Feminism and the Subversion of Identity (1990).”

AWAB ( Assigned Winged at Birth)

“twelve percent of babies in the world are born with tails. Doctors suppress this news. They cut off the tail, so it won’t scare the parents. I wonder what percentage are born with wings?” (97).

 

In Judith Bulter’s Gender Trouble, she argues that sex, as well as gender, is performative. The labelling of genitalia on first glance is as socially constructed as the roles and expectations that it implies for the rest of the infant’s life. In the same vein of a male and female gender binary, then, is a penis and vulva sex binary, a simplified and constraining view of the many nuances and differences that exist within bodies. The quote above, from the Autobiography of Red by Anne Carson, involves bodily differences in a unique way. The main character of the poetic novel, Geryon, is described as a red monster with wings, and in the relevant quote he has been told by a friendly stranger that “twelve percent of babies in the world are born with tails”.

Because of the fantastical elements of the novel, there is no one meaning to Geryon’s wings, nor the babies supposed tails, however both are a difference from the mainstream or acceptable body. This difference could be metaphorical, representing Geryon’s queerness or a disability, or could be literal, representing those born intersex. Of course, these interpretations are not mutually exclusive either. I will choose to read the rumored tails as intersex but leave Geryon’s wings as something unique entirely to him, representing a societal difference of any kind. In the quote, the friend tells Geryon that not only do “doctors suppress this news”, but they also perform surgery on the infants, without the consent or knowledge of the parents, so as to keep them calm about their child fitting into the bodily binary.

This practice is nearly identical to the treatment of babies born intersex, with non-necessary surgeries performed in order to create a more socially acceptable body, one which falls into the penis/vulva binary. The suppression of information is similar to the isolation of queer children, and people as a whole, who are kept ignorant of others like them and instead only shown representation of non queer or acceptable identities. If looked at as metaphorical, the tails could also represent the forceful conversion and suppression of queer identities into the social binary, their presence seen as frightening or threatening to the heterosexual ‘parents’ or larger culture. Growing up, the children may not realize that they were born with tails at all, preventing the tails from becoming normalized and keeping those attached to them in isolation. Those children who do not have their tails removed, if there are any, would never know that their friends, family, or coworkers are really just like them.

This is something Geryon wonders for himself at the end of the quote, switching from the friend’s narration to his inner thoughts.  He wonders how many babies are born with wings, as he is the only one he is aware of. If the doctors are cutting off infants’ tails, it is plausible for Geryon to believe that perhaps they are also cutting off infant’s wings, leaving him isolated in the winged experience by force, even though in reality there should’ve been an entire community of winged people. Perhaps, that community has been stolen from him, their wings removed in a non-necessary procedure so that they could better align with the constructed bodily binary.

Red Clock

What is time made of? Geryon said suddenly to the yellowbeard…

Time isn’t made of anything. It is an abstraction.

Just meaning that we

impose upon motion. But I see–he looked down at his watch–what you mean. Wouldn’t want to be late to my own lecture, would I?” (Carson, 90).

Throughout Autobiography of Red, Geryon continuously questions time, and what exactly it consists of. The yellowbeard’s answer implies that humanity has a tendency to establish a framework for existence, creating a universal list of expectations to be met during one’s life. This idea corresponds with the ideas expressed within Judith Halberstam’s In a Queer Time and Place. Halberstam argues, “queer subcultures produce alternative temporalities by allowing their participants to believe that their futures can be imagined according to the logics that lie outside of those paradigmatic markers of life experience–namely, birth, marriage, reproduction, and death,” (Halberstam, 2). These valued landmarks encourage society’s favoritism of heteronormative practices. A desire to pursue alternative ways of living is met with external disapproval due to the unspoken, imagined set of rules that an individual is expected to follow. In reality, as the yellowbeard claims, time is not made of anything. The idea of imposing order to one’s period of living is unnecessary, villainizing the desire to explore the self.

Geryon, also villainized as a little red monster, feels this isolation from the world around him. From early on, he has felt this detachment from what is considered “normal,” eventually hiding his wings within an overcoat to abide standard values. His insecurity exhibits “emotional and physical responses to different kinds of time; thus people feel guilty… these emotional responses add to our sense of time as ‘natural,'” (Halberstam, 7). Geryon’s struggle with his unique qualities causes him great emotional distress, as he often feels very angry, sad, or frustrated. This confusion with the societal fabrication of “normal” causes him to question what it will take for him to fit into time’s standards. By viewing time as a indicator of what is natural, Greyon overlooks, and even seems somewhat disapproving of what is truly innate. His inner connection with the color red is an important facet to his being, something that is characteristic to him from birth. Instead of embracing himself, the perceived normalcy of time prevents his identity from flourishing.

Sources:

  Brennan, Toni. “In a Queer Time and Place: Transgender Bodies, Subcultural Lives: By Judith Halberstam, New York University Press, New York, 2005, 213 Pp., $19.00.” Archives of Sexual Behavior, vol. 36, no. 5, 2007, pp. 755–57, https://doi.org/10.1007/s10508-007-9224-x. 

Carson, Anne. Autobiography of Red : a Novel in Verse. First Vintage Contemporaries edition., Vintage Books, 1999.

The Ambiguity of Wordplay

In Autobiography of Red, Anne Carson uses wordplay, specifically double meanings, to complicate her subject matter and provide varying expectations and interpretations to the reader. For example, in a poem describing a moment when Geryon’s wings are lashing out and he tries to hide himself away from the world, Carson titles the chapter “XV: Pair.” The title references both Geryon’s ‘pair of wings’ and the couple themselves: “They watched each other, / this odd pair” (53). Titles are a way to introduce the poem and establish what to expect. Carson’s intentional chapter title words/phrases often come with many connotations, suggesting many topics the poem could explore. When we see a one-worded title like “Pair,” often the immediate reaction is to fill in the phrase: is it a pair of socks? A pair of people? What type of pair? This strategy of getting the reader to anticipate something and then either follow through or denying those expectations is a brilliant strategy. 

Carson also uses words that have two definitions itself to present two different ways to interpret the text. For example, in the chapter title “XIX: From the Archaic to the Fast Self,” the word ‘archaic’ has two different definitions: it means ‘very old’ but it also is a word used to describe the period of Greek art and culture from the 7th to 6th century BCE. During this chapter, Geryon describes himself as “a man in transition” (60). This transition, one can assume from the title, is from his ‘old’ self to a newer, ‘fast self.’ Interestingly, the choice to use the word “archaic” calls back to Geryon’s mythological past and role in Greek art of that time period, of which a few pieces still survive today. This transition in his identity calls back to the old him, but whether that is referencing the Greek version of him or this modern one in Carson’s novel is up to the reader’s interpretation.  

The ambiguity of the titles also force the reader to consider the complexity of words and their meanings. As discussed in class, language and the meaning we assign to it is slippery, and sometimes the word itself isn’t enough to encompass what we mean. I think Carson does an interesting thing in her novel when she tries to capture how our language can mean a variety of things, and sometimes that vagueness is confusing. For Geryon, words have always been a struggle: “Geryon always / had this trouble: a word like each, / when he stared at it, would disassemble itself into separate letters and go. / A space for its meaning remained there but blank […] What does each mean?” (26). Yet again, Carson uses a word (each) with a double meaning to imply two interpretations of his question — what does the literal word “each” mean?, and what does each word mean in general? The text points towards the former being the ‘correct’ interpretation since he is discussing that specific word, but the point remains that there is an ambiguity here, an open space to interpret the words in another way. The lack of punctuation, specifically quotations around the word ‘each,’ creates a more open-ended sentence and text. Carson specially worded this phrase and chose this word to make room for those double meanings and leave the reader thinking. 

We Know What’s Best for Them

There is this idea that a perfect society where everyone is happy and does not face struggles is an achievable thing. In Cereus Blooms at Night, the wetlanders see their actions as moving towards that perfect society. When they invite Chandin to come to live with them, they believe they are doing something that is moving them toward a perfect society. In Don’t Worry Darling, at first it seems like they are living in a utopia, but it is actually a simulation that half of them do not know they are in.

When the Thoroughlys have Chandin come and live with them, they convert him to their religion and make him shun his family. To the wetlanders, if someone does not fit what they think is the right way to live, that person must be changed. In Don’t Worry Darling a bunch of men kidnap women they want to be their wives and put them into a simulated eutopia. The world is very heteronormative, there are only heterosexual couples, and the men go to work well the women stay at home. Everyone acts extremely happy and grateful to be apart of this society. When the main character starts to get suspicious and ask questions she is taken away and reprogrammed with electroshock to forget about the real world.

When the women are kidnapped in Don’t Worry Darling and when Chandin goes to live with the Thoroughlys they are being treated like they are unable to decide what they want. I think there is this idea that people who are apart of minorities do not have the ability to make their own decisions. Women don’t know that they actually want to be stay at home moms and take care of the household, they need to be shown that that is what they want. Chandin doesn’t know that the religion he grew up with is the wrong way to worship, he needs to be shown the correct way to worship a god. Utopian societies with a messed-up secret are a genre of horror movies. I think this is because society cannot be perfect, especially when everyone acts the same.

Ikea but different

 

In the scene of the furniture tower, Mootoo uses the tower as a metaphor to show the way that Miss Ramchadin and Tyler can act in the room, versus who they are confined to act like outside of the room. At night, the room is the only place where they can both feel the freedom to express themselves in whatever manner they please. The tower continues to get higher the more they build on it, which reflects their growing comfortability and the increase in self-expression. The tower being deconstructed is representative of them losing this sense of identity that they create at night, and the fact that they must “knock down their towers” so they can fit the mold of what they are “supposed” to be. But they have the whole night to be at the top of their towers and behind the closed door, they can build their towers as high as they want.  

The tower seems like just a fun little activity, but it is so much more. Besides the fact that the reconstruction and deconstruction of the tower represent Tyler and Miss Ramchandin’s behaviors, for Miss Ramchandin it also represents an aspect of control in her life, something she has not had for a long time. Additionally, she has not had the support of someone such as Tyler in what appears to be a while. The first night of the tower, Tyler “wanted to take all the furniture in her room and help her build the biggest and tallest tower she needed.” (Mootoo 77-78) What catches my attention is the word “needed”. Building a tower out of furniture does not seem to be traditionally necessary, but Tyler sees past Miss Ramchandin’s illogicality and knows that her intentions are just to give herself a little control. Her entire life she was completely robbed of control and Tyler permitting this small act gives her a firmer grasp on a little bit of control.  

The re and deconstruction of the furniture tower is representative of Tyler and Miss Ramchandin’s ability to express themselves in all physical, emotional, and mental ways. 

Taking Flight

“PohPoh bent her body forward and, as though doing a breast stroke, began to part the air with her arms. Each stroke took her higher until she no longer touched the ground…  She practiced making perfect, broad circles, like a frigate bird splayed out against the sky in an elegant V. Down below, her island was soon lost among others, all as shapeless as specks of dust adrift on a vast turquoise sea.” (Mootoo 186).  

 Throughout Shani Mootoo’s novel Cereus Blooms at Night, nature and escape are persistent themes working in conjunction with each other. Mala, the protagonist, is first abandoned by her mother and aunt, then by her community (which turns a blind eye to her abusive father), then her sister Asha, and finally, her lover Ambrose. With each instance of abandonment, Mala is left behind as the only source of protection for herself and those she loves. Despite constantly sacrificing her safety for the well-being of others, her support structure gradually erodes until she is eventually left entirely on her own. 

Mala’s relationship with nature traces the abandonment she experiences. As she becomes more isolated living with her abusive father, she increasingly turns to nature as a means of escape and protection. While each of her loved ones escaped by physically leaving, abandoning Mala in the process, Mala escapes by becoming engrossed in the natural world. This begins after her mother and Aunt Lavinia flee, then drastically progresses – Mala collects natural elements, saves animals and bugs, lets her yard become overgrown, and begins to speak entirely with bird sounds. The culmination of this intertwining relationship between escape and nature seemingly occurs within the above passage, when Mala imagines seeing a younger version of herself named PohPoh take flight. 

The act of flying is so commonly associated with escape that phrases such as “taking flight” are understood to mean fleeing a situation. While the imagery of PohPoh lifting off the ground and soaring through the sky certainly generates this association, it is the leisure of her actions that indicates her escape is a final, permanent state. She “practiced” flying in circles until they were “perfect,” which suggests freedom of time and a lack of pressure from outside sources (Mootoo 186). As she flies, she observes that Lantanacamara, the site of her entire life and all of her troubles, was “lost” like “specks of dust,” revealing how far removed – physically and mentally – she now is from her past life (Mootoo 186). Her home becomes rapidly inconsequential as she imagines her younger self flying away, escaping forever. 

This scene can be viewed as Mala freeing a younger version of herself, one who she wished had received protection during her actual lifetime, by releasing her into the natural world. By using a simile to compare PohPoh to a “frigate bird,” this passage emphasizes how Mala copes with traumatic situations by escaping into nature (Mootoo 186). The comparison of PohPoh to frigate birds is symbolic, as they are known for flying in tropical climates at high altitudes. This once again suggests that Mala has released a part of herself to be fully free and distanced from her past traumas. Additionally, it alludes to Mala’s extensive knowledge of the natural world and her final transformation into a part of this environment. By imagining herself as a frigate bird, Mala gives herself the protection she wishes she had received as a child.  

A Doll In His Arms

Eli Clare’s “Stones in My Pockets, Stones in My Heart” discusses his experiences with childhood sexual abuse and the trauma associated with that. I wanted to explore the intersection between Clare’s story and the experiences of the character Inej Ghafa in Crooked Kingdom by Leigh Bardugo. Specifically, I was interested in the similarities between how both Clare and Inej found ways to cope with their experiences, and how those experiences impacted them later in life.

Clare frames his father’s sexual abuse of him as a way that his body was “stolen.” He explains that he “lived by splitting body from mind, body from consciousness, body from physical sensation” (Clare 153). His body was taken from him through his father’s abuse, and yet he also removed himself from his body as a coping mechanism for the trauma. This practice is mirrored in Crooked Kingdom. Inej, one of the main characters of the young adult fantasy novel (the second in a duology), also experienced repeated childhood sexual abuse, though hers was not familial. Inej was kidnapped at age fourteen and sold into slavery. She eventually ended up at a brothel, the Menagerie, where she was raped by strangers every night for one year. As a result, she enacted a similar coping mechanism to Clare: “As the nights at the Menagerie had strung together, she had become better at numbing herself, vanishing so completely that she almost didn’t care what was done to the body she left behind” (Bardugo 274). By separating herself from her physical body, Inej could pretend none of it was happening to her. This was further influenced by the fact that none of her assaulters knew her, which contrasts with Clare, since his experiences included the factor of incest. Inej was able to fade into anonymity, both with her assaulters and with herself. The importance of this is emphasized when Inej describes a particularly excruciating night when she was unable to remove herself from her body because a man recognized her (Bardugo 275).

Another similarity between Clare and Inej is found in the effects of trauma later on in their lives, as they both struggle with physical intimacy. Clare describes feeling a lack of desire or interest in sex. He writes that for him, “Sex meant rape – that simple, that complicated” (Clare 154). This resulted in the fact that, as an adult, Clare had no concept of the feeling of sexual desire. When describing his experiences with sexual partners, he explains that “all too often, sex was a bodiless, mechanical act for me as I repeatedly fled my body” (Clare 156). Though Clare is able to engage in sex, something Inej is nowhere close to, the experience remains completely unexciting and unenjoyable to him. He mentions again the concept of leaving his body, since although this kind of sex was not abusive, his trauma maintained that link. Inej has a similar aversion, though hers may be even more severe. Of course, Inej is still seventeen in the present-day events of the novel, so she hasn’t made it as far as Clare yet. However, she describes feeling uncomfortable with any sort of physical touch. In a scene in which she and her love interest (who has his own share of physical and emotional trauma) launch an attempt at physical intimacy, she explains, “Even now, a boy will smile at me on the street, or Jesper will put his arm around my waist, and I feel like I’m going to vanish” (Bardugo 362). Although Jesper is a close friend of hers, Inej cannot put away the effects of trauma because they are written so deeply into her skin. The word “vanish” is repeated from the passage I quoted earlier, which was part of the coping mechanism she used. Here, it seems the practice of removing herself from her body was both positive and negative, since now she can’t seem to control when it happens.

Overall, the experiences of Clare and Inej fall along similar lines, as they both abandoned their bodies to escape sexual abuse. It is important to note, however, that Inej’s story is fictional, while Clare’s is a real autobiographical account. Still, the similarities and differences between these stories intertwine to illustrate a complicated, multi-faceted representation of the experience and effects of childhood sexual abuse.