Flannery O’Connor is an important voice in American literature, not only for her two outstanding novels and thirty-one short stories she managed to produce in her short life but also because of the novelty of the religious aesthetics she brought about. When researching her biography, it is easy to understand such a strong reliance on Catholic Christianity, as faith was her only saving grace in the struggle against the terminal disease, which she overcame and whose development was deferred by more than fifteen years. She was extremely self-critical and carefully perfected and polished each detail of her literary works; moreover, she was demanding, selective, and sometimes even ironical to all writings she encountered: “It all reminds me of the Tates getting upset because Cardinal Spellman writes bad novels. I think it’s charming that Cardinal Spellman writes bad novels. If he wrote good novels, I’d be worried about the Church” (Habit of Being, 1979, p.583). She considered literature a source of self-awareness and divine grace and thus sought to bring to this world only insightful works with edifying nature. The present paper explores O’Connor’s Christian aesthetic of grace, composed, however, not merely of the classical divine light but also of the shade of death.
Instead of taking the traditional (for the beginning of the 20th century, at the conception of the Modern Christian Movement) path of apologetic writing, O’Connor decided to invent her own style, often classified as “religious shock” (rather than “plotting of divine grace”) (Farmer, 1996, p.92). With respect to the transformation her contemporary social ambiance (in the broader context) was undergoing, including the decline of piety and spirituality, industrialization, and fixation on the material good and consumption, O’Connor saw no other way of paying reader’s attention to the urgent need for returning to Catholic Christianity from Protestantism and Methodism except the incorporation of appealing and striking passages into her works – in “Wise Blood,” for instance, the protagonist blinds himself with lime acid when searching for a sense of life and trying to renovate spirituality (O’Connor, 1952, p. 316); another novel, “The Violent Bear It Away,” narrates about a young man, granted with “grace” and self-awareness after he is sexually abused (O’Connor, 1960, p.342).
As Farmer writes, “She wrote ironic, subtly allegorical fiction about deceptively backward Southern characters, usually fundamentalist Protestants, who undergo transformations of character that to O’Connor’s thinking brought them closer to the Catholic mind” (Farmer, 1996, p.92). Violence and cruelty are inherent components of her creative legacy, as the writer gives them a different, rather sentimentalized than demonized meaning. This view on violence as a means of purifying the soul and renovating human self-awareness is actually a distinctive feature of her literary works.
The author of this paper is particularly fascinated with the mastery with which the author introduces a grace-bringing stranger in her short stories and the immense role of the mysterious person in helping characters understand the gaps in their faith and outlook. The short story entitled “River” shocked me the most in terms of the author’s method of bringing the protagonist to grace; O’Connor kills her protagonist for the purpose of showing that in the afterworld, he will feel much safer and more confident than in this rotting society. The first lines of “The River” portray a family cursed by a deep social pathology that includes a poor commitment to parental responsibilities.
Harry, the only child of quite affluent parents, suffers from the deprivation of love, which he, however, never received from Mr. and Mrs.Ashfield, but actually has always been thirsty for affection and the sense of family bonds; moreover, has been potentially capable of responding to this warmth. This short story is actually the most prominent confirmation of Folks’ words: “O’Connor viewed human nature and human society as innately corrupt, permeated with human selfishness, ignorance, and destructiveness, and both believed that within this earthly wasteland, human systems or ethics were ultimately ineffectual. Human society could approach an ethical condition only through the redemption of individuals” (Folks, 126). Harry is portrayed as a direct product of this distorted and corrupting common ethics observed only conditionally: e.g., his father promises to change the minor’s outfit “for Christ’s sake” (O’Connor, p.154), referring to deity in such a trivial matter. However, his sitter once takes him to the public preacher, Summers, who consequently baptizes him.
Due to the fact that his whole life is soaked with meaningless jokes his parents use in the conversations with their son, Harry-Bevel clearly perceives the striking distinction between the atmosphere of drunk illusion in his own home and the spirit of the lucid knowledge that emanates from the preacher: “The grin had already disappeared from his face. He had the sudden feeling that this was not a joke. Where he lived, everything was a joke. From the preacher’s face, he knew immediately that nothing the preacher said or did was a joke” (O’Connor, 165). This person gives Henry hope for changing the order of matters in his own life, convincing him that baptism changes his personality. The boy, in turn, is painfully sincere in his unwillingness to return home: “I won’t go back to the apartment then, I’ll go under the river” (O’Connor, 165). In this sense, the symbol of the apartment can be interpreted as emptiness, darkness, and mindlessness the protagonist is tired of notwithstanding his young age. Therefore, Henry begins to believe and perceives too directly each word received from Rev.Summers
It needs to be noted, however, that the main character, similarly to any five-year-old child, interprets the idea of the magnificent and comfortable underworld in the depth of the river too literally, so his further exploration and penetration into the dimension of the true grace should be understood from the child’s position. In this sense, on the next morning, Henry-Bevel realizes he should leave the apartment and find the omnipotent river that will bring him to the place that reflects the knowledge he has recently received (it is important to remember that children’s reasoning is to a great extent fixed to material objects and places). The river becomes his major goal: “He only saw the river, shimmering reddish yellow, and bounded into it with his shoes and his coat on and took a gulp. For an instant, he was overcome with surprise; then since he was moving quickly and knew he was getting somewhere, all his fury and his fear left him” (O’Connor, 171).
Therefore, the protagonist ultimately accesses the source of grace through abandoning his physical life, as the inner peace is possible only in case one avoids treasuring their existence in the objective reality for the eternal peace of their soul. In this sense, owing to the preacher, the boy “comprehends” the distinction between the cruel and degenerative mirage ( his parents’ pathological social life) and the most unshakable and original world of Heaven, moreover, receives guidelines for accessing the latter world of bliss. This naïve grace might seem to some extent tragic or tragic with regard to the lethal outcome, but the short story apparently provides the young boy’s account of the events, from which it is clear that he is delighted to get rid of the load of the harsh physical life and obtain the long-waited freedom and truth.
Similarly, in “Good Country People,” Hulga is blessed with grace after being deprived of her artificial leg as a symbol of all unnatural aspects of her nature. In this sense, the author probably implies the booming industrialization, which became one of the factors contributing to the loss of faith. The alleged Bible seller invites her to a date and convinces them to take off her wooden limb so that she becomes more “authentic.”
Finally, Pointer unveils himself: he opens one of his Bibles, which appears hollow inside, and takes out a bottle of whisky, pornographic pictures, and a package of condoms. To her answer concerning his “good country” background, he responds that his goodness is not his personal restraint. Further, it becomes clear that Pointer is his false name, which he changes after each visit to countrymen’s homes. He is also a nonbeliever:” “I hope you don’t think, “he said in a lofty indignant tone, “that I believe in that crap! I may sell Bibles, but I know which end is up, and I wasn’t born yesterday, and I know where I’m going!” (O’Connor, 283). He disappears shortly, not forgetting to grab her leg. As one can interpret, Hulga is at once cured of all her corrupting illusions, as the “Pointer” has illustrated to her the boundary between theatrical performance and reality and unquestionably causes the dissolution of her counterproductive identity and worldview. As a result, Hulga is really given a chance to reconsider her values and beliefs and begin a new life, which potentially might bring her to fulfillment. The opportunity to re-write the novel of life constitutes the major aspect of grace, as the author probably believes the protagonist will manage to match atheism to deceitful Pointer and accept contemplation ( as one of the most valuable states of mind) (Folks 133), love, mercy, and absolution into her heart. In this case, the aesthetic of violence is replaced with the spirit of deception, which equally refers to criminal or traumatic action.
The story entitled “The Lame Shall Enter First” has had a particularly strong influence, as it narrates about obtaining grace through paying an extremely high price, the nearest and dearest person’s life. The protagonist also endures a profound transformation of personality accompanied by the re-evaluation of his performance at work and in his own family. In spite of his demonstratively angelic nature, Sheppard objectively fails to provide his son with positive and supportive parenting: “You are ten and Rufus if fourteen, ‘he said. “Yet I’m sure your shirts would fit Rufus” “(O’Connor, 596).
Sheppard reproaches the child with the way he eats, for the amount of food he consumes, for his food preferences as well as for Norton’s stout building. The protagonist’s view on his son is inherently biased: “He had never noticed then that the child was selfish” (O’Connor, 596), whereas in the present day, his child is regarded as a walking vice, as a concentration of selfishness, ignorance and indifference. The protagonist thus inhibits his love for Norton, putting all his affections, emotions and warmth, intended for his son, into a passive or latent state. Sheppard devotes himself to Rufus, a disabled and extremely reserved boy, through surrounding him with affection, care, and new knowledge, which is likely to develop his extraordinary intelligence. In addition, he begins to love the delinquent teenager, seeking to compensate with the years of maltreatment he has been undergoing, yet each gesture and word the young criminal produces shows that he neither deserves nor seeks Sheppard’s love and care.
After living for quite a while as Sheppard’s stepson, Rufus Johnson begins to reflect the protagonist’s desire for becoming a peculiar Pygmalion, a sculptor of the new personality. In simpler words, manipulation interlaces with the teenager’s behavior, which means, self-reliance and inflexibility in the relationships with children are certainly unproductive. Moreover, Johnson’s manipulations for the purpose of having Sheppard to indulge in his deviant behavior and observe his interests reproduce the man’s own self-interest and the deceitfulness of his “best intents”: in fact, Sheppard seeks to test his tutor’s skills and re-assert his belief in his abilities, which probably weakened given the distress associated with his wife’s death. Furthermore, Rufus’ resistance to some extent fascinates him, turning the boy’s salvation into a quest or an obstacle the true man needs to overcome.
The phrase “Satan has you in his power” (O’Connor, p.631) becomes a turning point of the main character’s attitude towards his goals, aspirations and competencies. Focusing on the hopeless, mentally unfit child, he has been ignoring his own son, whose attempts to identify the deceased mother in the array of stars he sees through the telescope have already grown into fixation and who is probably desperate to live in a fully functioning family environment. The above mentioned points of Sheppard’s poor commitment to his parental duties, including his self-centeredness and ignorance in terms of Norton’s psychological needs are rushing as flashbacks: “He had stuffed his own emptiness with good works like a glutton. He had ignored his own child to feel his vision of himself. He saw the clear-eyed Devil, the sounder of hearts, leering at him from the eyes of Johnson” (O’Connor, p.632). Consequently, going through the pain of self-exposure to his inner censor and self-evaluation, Sheppard once again learns the psychological art of love.
However, the ending, as for me, is excessively harsh, as inspired by his willingness to embrace his newly-obtained son, Sheppard enters Norton’s room and finds out that the boy has committed suicide, for the purpose of getting to his deceased mother. This self-affected violence is thus sentimentalized and seems appealing to the complex set of human emotions, including the ability to forgive, mercy, pity and grace, yet weaker than the insight experienced by the protagonist. The given short story depicts the stranger, who constantly notifies the protagonist about the need for examining and filling the gaps in his value system and “code of conduct”, yet these messages, except the last one and the most comprehensible, reach the addressee. In fact, I consider O’Connor’s short stories much more influential in terms of my own ambitions as a writer, comparing to her novels, but the effect of the above specified narrative resembles to me a short but intense sparkle of sun suddenly changing its temperature, as after reading it I once again realized the following truth: one can act in the direction of public altruism only after putting in order their domestic matters; the country is not able to establish appropriate diplomatic relations until it organizes its domestic affairs. The inner “stuff” is much more important than what the person reveals. Most pleasantly, the author allows the reader to come to this conclusion by themselves without directly leading to this axiom and focusing rather on the spiritual aspect of new self-awareness.
To sum up, O’Connor’s difficult life, saturated with pain, frustration, and the persistent fleur of forthcoming death, is the lesson of bravery, which I would like to learn and use in my literary works in the future. As for her stable algorithm of obtaining grace, I wouldn’t like to employ it fully and would rather avoid the episode of overt violence, as the psychological side of transformation has appeared to be much more interesting. Furthermore, I would also argue that although her “framework’ normally involves conversion to Christianity, it is actually universal, as the adoption of faith implies learning love, forgiveness, mercy, and care about the nearest. I dare also state that her ironic and allegoric writings have a global mission that consists in adding value to the universal human virtues like integrity, understanding, acceptance, and tolerance, which have become especially relevant in the age of multiculturalism. Therefore, I would be proud to continue O’Connor’s tradition of sawing humanity.
Works cited
Arbor, A. Flannery O’Connor: The Devil. Sapientia Press, 2005.
Elie, P. The Life You Save May Be Your Own: An American Pilgrimage. Farrar, Straus and Giroux, 2003.
Farmer, J. “Mary Hood and the Speed of Grace: Catching Up with Flannery O’Connor”. Studies in Short Fiction , vol. 33 no. 1 (1996), p. 91-99
Folks, J. “In a Time of Disorder: Form and Meaning in Southern Fiction from Poe to O’Connor. New York: Peter Lang Publishing, 2003.
Meeks, L. “Flannery O’Connor’s Art”. In Flannery O’Connor’s Radical Reality, edited by Gretlund, J. and Westarp, K., pp.18-25. University of South Carolina Press, 2006.
O’Connor, F. “Good Country People”. In Collected Works by Flannery O’Connor, pp. 263-289.
O’Connor, F. “The Lame Shall Enter First”. In Collected Works by Flannery O’Connor, pp. 595-632.
O’Connor, F. The Habit of Being: Letters of Flannery O’Connor. University of Georgia Press, 1979.
O’Connor, F. “The River”. In Collected Works by Flannery O’Connor, pp. 154-171.
O’Connor, F. The Violent Bear It Away. University of South Carolina Press, 1960.
O’Connor, F. Wise Blood. University of South Carolina Press, 1952.