“The Story of an Hour”: A Fatal Freedom

The text of this short story was captured using the snipping tool from: http://www.vcu.edu/engweb/webtexts/hour/

Kate Chopin’s “The Story of an Hour” has intrigued me since I first read it in a freshman short story class in college. As a huge fan of The Awakening I naturally fell in love with this story. I think that what really draws me to Chopin’s work is that she embraces feminist ideas without taking them too far; she illustrates the lives and needs of women without making them seem as though they want equality so badly that they will go to unequal extremes to get it (obviously, I am petrified of “Feminazis”). I wrote a 7 page analysis about this story for the class that I took and was ready to post it, in lieu of rewriting my ideas, but I have decided to save you from not only the literary theory aspect of the story (Damn patriarchal societies! Just let women LIVE!) (Ok, I lied, there will be some theory) but also from the writing, which I am proud to say has drastically improved over the last 5 years.

So, here is my take. Or, rather, the abridged version (however, if any readers are interested in literary theory it happens to be something that I love, so comment away!). 

Highly interesting, right from the beginning, is the fact that although Richard rushes to tell Louise the news of Brently’s death before anyone else can, her sister Josephine is actually the one who reveals it to her in “veiled hints.” Seen from a theoretical perspective, it has to be this way– I mean, how ironic would it be for a man to tell Louise that she is free from a patriarchal institution? And of course they can’t just come out and say it, her troubled, weak heart and feminine disposition would not be able to handle the stress! 

Or would it? Once Louise is able to sit down by herself she realizes that her reaction to the news of her husband’s death is not at all what would be expected. Due to the social constraints forced upon her she feels guilty for actually looking forward to a life of her own, without a husband by her side. She fights back the feeling of freedom that his death evokes, but she soon embraces it and realizes that life, on her terms, is worth living. Brently’s death (of course a symbol of the repressive society) is not the end of the world and, really, has nothing but positive effects on Louise as an individual, which she undoubtably feels she is for the first time in her life (But that little tidbit is simply speculation, she could have dreamt of this day for years. Who knows.). She slowly begins to see the potential in life: “There were patches of blue sky showing here and there through the clouds.” A shift in the diction of the story mirrors her own change in thought– imagery symbolizing rebirth pours through the window from the natural world outside. This image, too, symbolizes the difference between the false, patriarchal society that rules the inside of the home and the natural, free world which lies beyond its confines.

When the true power of emotional freedom comes crashing upon her, Louise hardly knows what to do with herself. In fact, this situation is so foreign to her that she has to step out of her own perspective to accept it: “When she abandoned herself a little whispered word escaped her slightly parted lips.” Even then, even when she has stepped away, she only slightly opens her mouth to recognize the freedom that is now hers with a mere whisper. Here, though, her heart starts to speed up, and you readers should become concerned since this particular organ of hers is troubled.

Something that is interesting about this section is that love, as an idea, is slightly devalued (I leave it up to you, readers, to decide if “slightly” is a proper qualifier for what’s really going on. Could it be love itself that is devalued, or just her life with a man she only sometimes cared for?). Louise realizes that she both loved Brently and she didn’t, depending on the day, but that it is of no consequence. Louise, as a person, as a woman, as an individual, is the important thing here, not her relationship with a man:

“And yet she had loved him– sometimes. Often she had not. What did it matter! What could love, the unsolved mystery, count for in face of this possession of self-assertion which she suddenly recognized as the strongest impulse of her being.”

After embracing a new sense of freedom and enduring an immense paradigm shift, Louise is ready to take on the world. She leaves the room and takes her first steps out into the world as a single woman, as a free woman. Of course, Brently has to actually walk through the door, alive (how could he!), and cause Louise’s frail heart to give out and for this newly self-identified woman to drop dead at the sight of him.

Damn men.

Just kidding. I like men– I just don’t like oppressive social structures.

Now, this is where the story gets good, and where Chopin displays her phenomenal writing chops. Consider the last eight lines of the story:

“Some one was opening the front door with a latchkey. It was Brently Mallard, who entered, a little travel-stained, composedly carrying his gripsack and umbrella. He had been far from the scene of the accident, and did not even know there had been one. He stood amazed at Josephine’s piercing cry; at Richards’ quick motion to screen him from the view of his wife.

But Richards was too late.

When the doctors came they said she had died of heart disease– of joy that kills.”

First, who is it that Richards is trying to protect? Louise or Brently? The syntax of the sentence could go either way, but there is one line that provides a big clue: “But Richards was too late.” He was too late because Louise is dead, meaning that he could not protect her, meaning that she is the one he was trying to shield.

Second, what is it that really killed Louise? Joy, of course, but was it the joy at seeing her husband alive, or the joy of her new life unfolding before her? During the research I conducted for the paper (and by research I mean my expert use of Google), I came across an article by Mark Cunningham (I believe it is the one entitled “The Autonomous Female Self and the Death of Louise Mallard in Kate Chopin’s ‘Story of an Hour’”) in which he stated: “The reader cannot be certain that Louise sees Brently’s return.” 

Touché, Mr. Cunningham.

So, readers, what do you think? I personally feel that Mr. Cunningham’s comment has some validity, but the fact that the text claims “Richards was too late” means that he failed at what he was trying to do– at trying to screen Louise from the sight of her husband. Clearly, should he have been trying to shield Brently from the sight of his wife, he would not be too late because Brently is (still) alive and well. 

This leaves, according to my analysis, only two possible causes of death for poor Mrs. Mallard: 1. heart failure due to the intense emotions she had experienced during her realization that she was free and 2. heart failure due to the disappointment at finding that her husband is really alive. The final words of the story, though, tie my theory up into a nice little bow: “she had died of heart disease– of joy that kills.” Although everyone else in the room may have thought the joy to be a reaction to the sight of her husband, readers know that the joy has its roots not in her return to the patriarchal society of her time, but in her escape from it.

“The End of Something” Brings to Life a Dignified Hemingway Woman

One of the biggest lessons I learned in a Hemingway class that I took is that poor old Ernest got a really bad rap. The guy just wanted to get wasted, enjoy the company of beautiful women, and participate in the most masculine sports of the day (which, unfortunately, often included the killing of animals). While I highly dislike his choices of entertainment (I find no pleasure whatsoever in the idea of killing animals for sport) I do think that his writing reveals that there was more to the man than first meets the eye. My dear teacher worked tirelessly to convince us all that Hemingway was no misogynist, and I personally believe that he was right. Many critics have accused Hemingway of being unable to write a strong and complex female character. Though his strongest characters are often men, Hemingway has written some truly interesting and even dignified scenes for women.

So here I present Exhibit A in Hemingway’s defense. His short story, “The End of Something,” shows a woman (well, a teenager) walking away from a not so perfect situation with her head held high and her pride intact. Far from heartless, this girl was able to simply recognize where she was not wanted and move on to something new.

(Plot details ahead, go on and read the story now before finishing the post if you are worried about spoilers) 

“The End of Something” was originally published in a volume of stories called In Our Time, which was released in 1925. Like so many of Hemingway’s stories, this one revolves around the theme of disillusionment. Nick and his girlfriend Marjorie are on a fishing trip and row down the river by an old mill. The mill, long abandoned, stands as a symbol of the couple’s relationship and their dissimilar ideas about the dilapidated building reveal that their hearts and minds are in two completely different places. Marjorie, who is happy with Nick, sees the mill as a castle and is intrigued by it. Nick, on the other hand, who has grown bored (though he seems to have grown bored not just with Marjorie, but with himself and the rest of the world), sees just a broken building. As the title implies, Nick reveals that he is not having any fun and Marjorie takes that as her cue to row away, back to wherever it is that they came from.

I love feminist literature that shows the abilities of a woman without taking it too far, and I think that Hemingway has achieved that here. Before you start gawking at my insinuation that Hemingway has written a piece of feminist literature, and before you decide to never visit this blog again because you think I must be flat off my rocker, listen to the reasoning. Hemingway’s writing is focused on men. That is what he knows; Hemingway’s life experiences are highly reflected in his work, although his work is not autobiographical per se. His idea of a woman, according to many critics, is that of an object to be used for pleasure, for company, for entertainment. But this attitude is not reflected in this short story. “The End of Something” shows a woman interacting with a man and holding her own. Granted, Marjorie is highly peripheral to Nick in this scene, but she is still able to walk away from a man with her head held high and her dignity intact– something no simple object would be capable of.

I understand that many people dislike Ernest Hemingway because of his lifestyle, but that should not get in the way of their appreciation of his writing talents. If you haven’t read Hemingway yet I highly recommend picking up a collection of his short stories and diving right in. A man who lived and breathed adventure, Hemingway has made countless contributions to the literary world and should be recognized for his genius, not just critiqued for his lifestyle. Besides, where else can you read about drunken safaris, disillusioned soldiers, teen angst long before it was cool, and a fine appreciation of nature all in one volume? What do you think– is Hemingway capable of bringing to life a believable female character?