Reading Journal 5

(In response to the first half of Gorky's Mother, first my initial thoughts, and then, as requested, answers to two questions from the problem sheet.)

The first half of Mother was very interesting for me to read, given the background about Gorky that I had read about in Nadezhda Mandelstam's book for the research paper (i.e., how he becomes the leader of the writer's union under Stalin, etc.), and given my long-standing interest in the kind of communism found in the early church as described in Acts 2 in the New Testament, as railed against by Ayn Rand in the novel or two of hers that I've read. At first I started looking for fairly glaring similarities between the two, in the vein of viewing Rand's writings as "capitalist propaganda" and Gorky's as "communist propaganda." It soon became clear, however, that Gorky's characters are much more believable, and although they are strongly archetypal despite their basis upon specific, historical individuals, the relational dynamics of the protagonist group in Gorky's novel allow for a much more true-feeling view of human nature in all its blacks, whites, and grays compared with Rand's striking caricatures. For instance, Rand's protagonists all have angular physical features, while her antagonists are blob-like. Gorky's description of the general of the gendarmes reads: "He was a round, well-fed creature, and somehow reminded her of a ripe plum...," (p. 81) contrasts with such descriptions of such figures as Andrey, "In the entire angular, stooping figure, with its thin legs, there was something comical, yet winning." (p. 16) It's the "comical" and similar descriptions that set Gorky apart, in that all of his characters, hero or enemy, feel more human, thanks to their imperfections. It's the hopeful development of individuals, though, and the negotiation of values within their community that rings most true to life for me. I committed to a community for a reason similar to why the mother ends up being on-board enough to smuggle leaflets into the factory: seeing healthy interactions between people, "life being carried out fully, as it should be," in some senses, such as how men and women are treated with dignity, is a good reason to join them and look forward to the same things that they do.

In the communities I've been in, particularly a religious one and the sort of loose social justice community at large within the universities, there tend to be a similar range of voices amongst people who are actively engaging a cause with their lives. There are some like Vesovshchikov, ready to burn things down (literally or otherwise) in order to expedite the downfall of massive systems of oppression being witnessed; others, like Rybin, have been simmering patiently for long enough, and go "on tour" by themselves trying to save the world, even at the expense of the locals in the places they go to; there are the self-denying types like Pavel, bringing wisdom to the movement but arguably at the price of living their own lives to the fullest; finally, I know some like Andrey who disagree on that point, but sometimes their passions can lead to regrets. At an anti-war protest at a munitions factor I was at a couple weeks ago, it was interesting watching these very dynamics play out: some voices among us hated the factory workers openly, condemning them as active parts of the system; others ignored them, seeing them as instruments of the state war machine not exactly acting of their own accord; still others bestowed human dignity on protester, factory worker, police, bystander, and factory owner alike, mourning the implication of all in the war machine, and gently but energetically engaging anyone open to dialogue. Anyway, it was interesting to see these types develop in the book and compare them with real-life experiences, all this in light of where, historically, so many of these paths (ardent capitalism, communism, religiosity, anti-religiosity, tolerance, intolerance, and all combinations and their gray areas) have lead people.

But before I go too far without direction, to the problem sheet:

3) The mother's role seems to have at least three key elements to it. Although she doesn't initially seed the worker's movement, it's her very disposition, incompatible with it at first, that bears witness in hindsight to the contrast between her life as a women under the system she was born into and the one her son is helping to bring about. This very much helps develop the idea of a better life, or a best life, in extreme contrast to the hopeless-feeling beginnings that most of the Russian population (women in particular) would find themselves in in life. At the same time, she becomes crucial in enabling both her son's alibi-protection and release from prison, and the movement coming to a head with May Day at the end of the first half. Both of these happen because she gains courage and creativity, smuggling propaganda booklets into the factory. Thirdly, her religious piousness and the privileged narrative view allow the mother's Christian faith and the movement's atheism to struggle with one another, and come to different syntheses. We see her religion soften but then become more ardent, and she takes what she sees in her son as come from God if not in so many words in his opinion, and continues to take part in this new life with ever-fuller faith in Jesus being at work amongst them. Contrary-wise but eventually not to the detriment of any relationships, Pavel sees God as a humanly constructed concept, usually used by the state to oppress, but in his mother's case, used by her as a source of courage, perseverance, and care. In this fascinating contrast the two can hold tightly to their belief in the actual existence or non-existence of God while still loving each other and graciously (tactfully?) interpreting each other's belief.

Thus her perspectives as religious and as girl/woman/wife/mother/old-mother earn either the reader's sympathy or respect, and so either way allow her to be an effective vehicle for Gorky's message. It's extremely difficult to discount her honestly-obtained viewpoint. Perhaps Rand enthusiasts are an exception, but in terms of turn-of-the-last-century Russian peasant culture, even bourgeois culture, this remains true.

As discussed in class, some of the broader mother-child relationship meanings include casting her as a Virgin Mary type, having to come to terms with her son's sacrifice for the good of many, and thus in some sense sacrificing herself in the same way; the reversal of her role in how her son leads her development being a reflection of Mother Russia's "backwardness" internationally (although, I would add, a better fit might be the proletariat, normally beneath or seen as a child in the care of the bourgeoisie, becomes the class that will teach rather than being taught); and finally her adoption of Andrey as a projection onto the future as a model for the kind of "international brotherhood" where all workers, worldwide, can treat each other fairly literally as family, insofar as that connotes a caring and developmental relationship, and the proletariat-group itself as a mother figure (Mother Russia, in contrast to the father's state-like oppressive dominance over her.)

10) Gorky's heroes are at first a little hard to define because of the dynamic perspective of the mother. She distrusts everyone (generally, minus Pavel) at first, but then almost instantly after meeting them grows to like characters that we're supposed to, such as Andrey, Natasha, Somov, and Alexey Ivanovich. So once she knows a bit more of the "good life" they enjoy in their community, we trust her judgment of them because it's the same as ours. What then do we do with the more violent characters that she has an intuitive dislike of, even after she begins to know it's good to trust the above heroes? Shashenka, Nikolay, Rybin, and others we might think of as fallen angels, misguided heroes that may become villainous, but then all of the sudden she cares for Nikolay (p. 120)--what do we make of this redemption? In the end, I suppose we take as the heroes all of the revolutionaries, and just bestow varying levels of pity or admiration on them depending on their stage of development towards what the reader regards as the true ideal, rather than marking a "hero threshold" along such lines that might not even include the mother.

That said, the virtues common to this larger group is necessarily more limited. I would put forth that the key virtues they share are a capacity for self-sacrificing leadership, a disciplined and patient love for one another that allows sharp disagreements about even life-or-death matters without leading to violence within the group, a rejection of the current political system and prevalent culture as a whole, and a hopeful vision of that with which they endeavor to replace it.

It's interesting that in class, though I hadn't thought of this question except in the Ayn Rand context above and so agreed at the time, some of these virtues--such as love--were taken as weaknesses, and some things I am about to discuss as weaknesses--such as being able to put a cause above people--were taken as virtues, if disagreeable ones. Perhaps it depends on how it's emphasized.

Pavel at times loses favour in his mother's eyes to Andrey because he, in some way, writes her off where they differ. He moves on to more important things, whereas Andrey takes the time to engage her in conversation and help her understand things. On the subject of love as a weakness, Andrey actually calls out (p. 100) Pavel's partiality toward Sashenka (p. 99) in more gently disagreeing with her feelings of angst over his upcoming self-sacrifice compared with his mother (pp. 99f). What I see as Pavel's weakness in this case is actually the opposite, that he won't perhaps let himself get closer to Sashenka despite his sacrifice, or carry the banner jointly, maybe even with her. These possibilities aren't explored. In any case, though there are probably more, the chief weakness, in my opinion, of all the characters, is their hopelessness about the rich. For all their patience with their own class, they still ultimately draw a line and declare hopeless another group. At one point, one of them seems close to excepting this, but only goes so far as to extend mercy toward the police and other instruments of the state, but in the end, there are human beings that the heroes consider to be unredeemable. I see this as a weakness even from within that very perspective--I believe that their disconnect from their masters and oppressors as human beings is what leads to the violence inherent in taking something back, rather than working towards a place where it might be given back not only willing but joyfully and with conviction. What I mean is, the more hasty they are (compare Pavel with Nikolay, for example) in attempting to bring about their utopia, the more they taint the very reality they do affect.

I mentioned the mercy towards instruments of the state, and being brought up by Gorky via one of the heroes it seems that the redeeming feature given to them as villains is some kind of inherent goodness. They act a certain way because they know no better, and this implies that if they knew better they would not be villains, so that there's hope for their characters. The prison guard, for instance, seems to oppress Pavel not out of hatred for his personal character, but just because that's his job, and that it keeps him able to live is all he knows in life. That seems to be the extent of it, for if Gorky went too far in redeeming his villains, the type of revolution he believed in would be less justifiable.