Tuesday, September 27, 2011

Waiting for the Barbarians: An Immersion into the Dream World

In the novel Waiting for the Barbarians, dreams play a prime component in the deliverance of the narrator’s fears, hopes, and desires. We can observe such dreams through a Freudian lens, in an attempt to understand the repression of his staggering emotions.  Freud asserts that “ [dreams like literature] displace unconscious desires, drives and motives into imagery  that might bear no resemblance to its origin but that nonetheless permits it to achieve release or expression” (Rivkin 390). In the novel, the narrator, who presents himself to be the only person among other soldiers who demonstrates empathy for the imprisoned, finds himself trapped by his own inner consciousness. The manifest content behind some dreams demonstrates a sense of physical incompleteness and animalistic characteristics. The latent content, that information which is not directly revealed to the narrator, explores a possible meaning to the dreams and explores the metaphorical castration of a group of people referred to as the barbarians. The ideals behind that castration can be representative of the narrator’s repressed fears or anger for the injustices committed by the soldiers. There are various specific dream descriptions throughout the novel, but I will focus on just two.
                Time after time, the narrator dreams of snow and a young child whose face is not clearly shown. Such visions, which are manifested within his memory trouble him and cause him to continuously wake up every night. As the narrator vividly illustrates, “The face I see is blank, featureless; it is the face of an embryo or a tiny whale; it is not a face at all but another part of the human body that bulges under the skin” (42). Clearly, the narrator is troubled by this child he could not identify; the only aspect that can help him look at the child is replaced by a vision of emptiness and animalistic features that remove them farther away from “the normal” or the “accepted.” The narrator who is himself a magistrate, understands the power dynamics between himself, the soldiers and the most remote of civilizations in their eyes, the barbarians.  In this case, “normality” or “acceptance” is thus defined not by the fact that barbarians have arms, legs, and all other characteristics that are attributed to human beings, but by the savage like features that characterize them as the “other,” the not-nearly human savage.  In reference to his dream, not being able to identify the child might be a representation of his inability to understand the cruel doings of the soldiers who had violently attacked the prisoners. This notion of the “otherness,” ascribed to the barbarians feeds off of the idea that they are savages who do not even deserved to be recognized, as marked by the absence of the child’s face. After realizing that the beggared girl is a barbarian, who had been heavily attacked and who could very well be the face that is ascribed to the child in the narrator’s dreams, the narrator recognizes that she is a representation of the other who is trapped within the reigns of power.

http://blog.lib.umn.edu/meyer769/myblog/2011/10/freuds-dream-protection-theory--what-is-the-meaning-of-our-dreams.html
                Another important dream was when the narrator describes, “There are other dreams in which the figure that I call the girl changes shape, sex, size. In one dream there are two shapes that arouse horror in me: massive and blank, they grow and grow till they fill all the space in which I sleep” (101). At this point in the story, the girl has returned with her group of people. The narrator, the magistrate is kept in poor conditions, becoming himself another prisoner. In order to be able to fully analyze the meaning of the dream, it is important to consider the state of mind and the physical conditions under which he is kept: a dark and isolated room with little to no access to clean water and food. He has attempted to forget the memory of the girl who was once her companion as a way to displace the hidden emotions he feels for her. Her image in his mind thus becomes distorted.  The two shapes mentioned also emphasize the power dynamics present in his inner conflict. What grows tremendously now that he has lived in the shoes of the prisoner, is his inner conflict: being the colonizer who must hold and keep power for the sake of his soldiers and to prevent him from being punished, and the colonizer who does not want to be colonizer based on the ideals of those governing around him. These anxieties are thus manifested in his dreams as blank and incomplete vision of the enemy.

Coetzee, J.M. Waiting for the Barbarians. New York: The Penguin Group, 1980. Print. 
Rivkin, Julie and Michael Ryan. “Introduction: Strangers to Ourselves: Psychoanalysis.” Literary Theory: An Anthology. Malden, Mass.: Blackwell, 2004. Print.

2 comments:

  1. In your response you quote Freud in describing dreams as a conveyance of desires that, "…might bear no resemblance to its origin but that nonetheless permits it to achieve release or expression" That passage is so apt as to the framing of dreams and memory in this novel, especially in relation to the recurring dream which has the "featureless" child. As well as the magistrate's inability to articulate himself within his dreams. Though he is never able to fully grasp or impart any concise message from these visions he is able to intuit on a very primitive level which serves as a, "release or expression"
    You mentioned the magistrate's willful attempt, "…to forget the memory of the girl…" For me I remember it as an involuntary consequence. One that commences as soon as he turns away from her after leaving her with the barbarians. Though later, it seemed to me, the forgetfulness does become purposeful/deliberate. This seemed, again to me, to be the conscious form of the aforementioned Freudian idea. That our ability to understand whether consciously or unconsciously is dependent on memory which has latent potential beyond our control. Making remembrance/interpretation fraught with imperfection.
    I really enjoyed reading your response. I was hoping someone would address his idea and the psychoanalytical approach really helped to open it up for me in a way I would have ever considered. Thank you.
    -Daniel Linton

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  2. I found your reading of the dreams in the novel, and your use of psychoanalysis to explicate them, to be particularly resonant and productive. I was having a hard time making head or tail of the dream sequences—your drawing attention to the facelessness of the child in the dreams was really helpful to me, and I agree that this image suggests the resilience of the magistrate’s stereotypes of the “other.” To him they are all the “same,” with no distinguishing features to individuate their humanity. I wonder how your analysis would address the last scene of the novel? This scene seems similar to the earlier dreams, but it is not explicitly presented as a dream—it’s almost the merging of “dream” and “reality.” But what particularly struck me about this scene after reading your blog post was the child’s command for “things for the mouth and nose and eyes” of the snowman. It’s almost as if the facial features are being built anew from scratch. It turns out that they are made from pebbles and that “It is not a bad snowman,” modest gains, to be sure, but, perhaps, gains nevertheless? And maybe the narrator’s final feeling of stupidity is an important recognition of what he doesn’t know, and thus his first real step forward? So perhaps not such a bleak ending after all…

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