On thing that I find most interesting about Molloy is attempting to work out what it is that he understands. I am thinking specifically of the instant at the beginning of the novel when Molloy is arrested. He does not seem to understand exactly why he has been arrested other than a lack of papers. He can not tell the officers anything about who he is at first and I see it as a lack of competence; however, his language in the text at times comes across as very competent. For example Molloy claims, "This should all be re-written in the pluperfect (20.)" This shows that he has a functioning knowledge of how language should work, and that he is the person dictating the information we are receiving. But it seems that he is unable to separate the information we benefit by knowing, and the information that is more generally kept inside. I can't help but thinking that Molloy does not keep statements like this inside because he has trouble conjuring memories and by expressing even the irrelevant ones he is able to access that information later; however, he claims that the does not re-read his work. Maybe he wants not just to access this information in the future but simply lay claim to the fact that he has this knowledge in the first place?
What I am trying to say is that Molloy comes across to me in layers, and I have to work through most of what he is saying, or attempting to say, in order to place him in the situation he his relaying.
What I am trying to say is that Molloy comes across to me in layers, and I have to work through most of what he is saying, or attempting to say, in order to place him in the situation he his relaying.
I agree, it is true that Molloy does not seem willing, or able, to sort through thoughts, experience, and information; this means that we receive a narrative that is not well-refined or logically coherent (this being interesting irony, as Molloy so strives to understand and be logical), but rather one with innumerable deviations, red herrings, and the like.
ReplyDeleteIn a similar vein of thought, the form of the narrative also seems to contrast to the way in which Molloy perceives himself, at least in the sense that Sam pointed out on Monday--while Molloy feels bounded, the reader of Molloy cannot set up or maintain any sense of boundary pertaining to where he is, who he's with, or what he thinks.
Something I would like to finally point out in response to these thoughts is how Molloy's irregulation of narrative contrasts sharply to Moran's, who reflects on his experiences in a way that is not only more succinct, but also more obviously afflicted (by this I mean that we can identify more clearly what he is doing, what he is skewing in his narrative...although I also don't mean to say that it is totally obvious). Moran's paranoias, contrary to Molloy's, cause him not to present an indistinguishable, kaleidoscopic description of events, but rather a story that is edited accordingly, acutely designed to cater to his vanity and exhibit heroism. I won't say much more about him though , as I still have forty pages of Moran left, so I don't know if it is revealed to us his final relation to Molloy.
I think these are all really interesting observations. I hadn't really thought of it this way until I read this post. I do wonder why Molloy is so bent on being as incoherent as possible. I wonder if it is a conscious thing he is doing for, like Clare said, he tries so hard to understand. That is the one thing I just cannot work out about this book. Why. And better yet, should I even be asking this question?
ReplyDeleteMolloy may be contradictory, but he is precise and exacting in expressing his ideas. As has been mentioned on another thread, his vocabulary is excessively broad, to the point of hardly matching the inchoate, toeless, bedraggled creature he claims to be. I think we should wonder about the precise connection between the narration and Molloy's body, which I don't think is one of mind/body.
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ReplyDeleteThis may seem hokey but I can’t help- in light of the novel’s end-read Becket’s Molloy as a cautionary tale for readers. Like Anna suggested, I’ve tended to read Moran and Molloy as the same person. While this warning mocks our necessity for order, it also depicts the loss of an individuality as Moran physically and literary morphs into a version, if not the exactly Molly. Similar to Moran’s reliance on Molloy for purpose and direction, we also attach ourselves with characters and the narrators to guide us though the themes of the text and the novel as a whole.
ReplyDeleteIn his pursuit of Molloy (for reasons I perceive as very ambiguous but are ostensibly known, Moran adopts various physical (Molloy’s legs, Moran’s legs) and literary (eventually becomes obsessed with patterns and systems ) characteristics comparable to Molloy. These similarities resulting from a potential transformation, suggest the loss of an identity (whether that be Molloy or Moran’s depending on your subjectivity). In this way, any anxiety initially felt by anyone’s inability to relate, understand, identity with Molloy in the first part of the novel is mocked and illuminated in the second section as we are only able to define/understand/psychoanalyze Moran thanks to our observations of Molloy as an unstable, potentially “mad” entity. Molly in the first section exists to affirm the order/insanity of Moran and Moran similarly exists to affirm the precise chaos of Molloy (depending on your perspective). When relating this idea to Clare’s mention of Sam’s “Bounded” post in relation to boundaries I get the sense that we, as readers, perhaps act as the boundaries. As long as we keep reading in pursuit of order, structure, form, and finality, the novel will, also eventually ( like Moran) morph and change in its fluidity until its deconstruction: the end of the text, the simultaneous end of our readerly experience, and existence of the “rain beating on the windows” so that it is also “not raining” (pg 241). Should we be more cautious when entering a text? Should we be less eager to attach to characters and more aware of the reality of our individuality in sometimes tantalizing world of fiction?
I think Emily brings up a very good point, namely that we, the readers, serve as the boundaries of this text. Throughout the novel, the lack of location, time, and identity of other characters allows us to create those boundaries through our interpretations. In addition the flow of the novel as a whole is completely up to interpretation. The ending of the text is not an ending insofar as we have a conclusion nor are we even able to make a single coherent story after finishing it. Rather, the text, as Emily said, maintains a fluidity that can morph and change into completely different stories depending on how it is read. Were Moran and Molloy the same person, were they father and son, was Molloy the alternate inner voice of a schizophrenic? All of these theories are plausible, but none can be said to be certain. The final lines instill doubt as to everything Moran has said, and in doing so make us question what was true in the story. They also simultaneously create a circular narrative loop for the second half of the story, and if each time the story is read Moran is perceived to be lying about what he is saying, is there even a true story?
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