The frame narrative that begins and ends Ethan Frome bookends it with tragic irony, with the 'sivilized narrator acting as a brand new perspective to the town of Starkfield. Having read it before in high school and loathed it, I'm trying to read it again now with an open mind.
(But I still, so far, resent its existence.)
I do appreciate the natural points in the intro; the trees bending with the weight of the snow, the oppression of the snow and the winter. I like that the townspeople all know enough about each other to have everyone else's story ripe for the telling, but they're also tactful enough to keep it to themselves. They respect each other's pain and hardship. Instead of man as a part of nature, as in McTeague, men in Starkfield (bare, desolate, emotionless wasteland) are results of nature. They are bowed and tamed by nature's force, hardened on the exterior by many harsh winters. The "smart" ones leave; so why have the other townsfolk (besides Ethan, who has been weighted down with responsibility and lameness) stayed? Why do Mrs. Gale and Harmon Gow stay?
Ethan reminds me of a stubborn mule this time around. Plodding on and on, never complaining, resting when necessary, helping you out when he can, not saying too much. So perhaps there is some subtle natural metaphor going on, here. We haven't delved into Ethan's mind too much yet, but we will. It'll get to be very depressing. There will be pickle dishes. And sleds. And bad decisions. But alas, what's a life for?
No comments:
Post a Comment