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The Mailer Review/Volume 3, 2009/Genre-Bending in The Armies of the Night: Difference between revisions
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History, Mailer says, is “interior” {{sfn|Mailer|1968|p=281}}, indicating that history is a lived experience, not a compilation of data which bear a purely external relation to the individuals involved. ''Armies'' contains a multitude of facts about the anti- war demonstration, but Mailer’s primary concern is with the feel of the event, the emotional factors that cannot necessarily be conveyed by the conventional five Ws approach—Who, What, When, Where and Why. | History, Mailer says, is “interior” {{sfn|Mailer|1968|p=281}}, indicating that history is a lived experience, not a compilation of data which bear a purely external relation to the individuals involved. ''Armies'' contains a multitude of facts about the anti- war demonstration, but Mailer’s primary concern is with the feel of the event, the emotional factors that cannot necessarily be conveyed by the conventional five Ws approach—Who, What, When, Where and Why. | ||
By referring to himself in ''Armies'' in the third person, as “Mailer,” the narrator not only situates himself as protagonist; he also creates a certain distance, sometimes ironic, sometimes ambiguous, between himself and his experience. At the same time, as Laura Adams suggests, Mailer seems to believe that “journalists and historians are incapable of handling the ambiguous” {{sfn|Adams|1976|p=130}}. Ambiguity suggests an ability to entertain multiple perspectives, a negative capability, in Romantic terms, as well as a sensitivity to nuance and connotation. Exploring that ambiguity, Mailer asks of his persona: “is he finally comic, a ludicrous figure with mock-heroic associations; or is he not unheroic, and therefore embedded somewhat tragically in the comic? Or is he both at once, and all at once?” {{sfn|Mailer|1968|p=65}}. He goes on to suggest that there may be no answers to these questions, just as the ambiguity of the event itself may never be resolved. Kathy Smith argues that in ''Armies'' “the self ’s preemption of the story, the self ''as'' story, is the only strategy that can precipitate a radical rethinking of how history provides cohesive explanations of ambiguous events” {{sfn|Smith|2003|p=187}} | By referring to himself in ''Armies'' in the third person, as “Mailer,” the narrator not only situates himself as protagonist; he also creates a certain distance, sometimes ironic, sometimes ambiguous, between himself and his experience. At the same time, as Laura Adams suggests, Mailer seems to believe that “journalists and historians are incapable of handling the ambiguous” {{sfn|Adams|1976|p=130}}. Ambiguity suggests an ability to entertain multiple perspectives, a negative capability, in Romantic terms, as well as a sensitivity to nuance and connotation. Exploring that ambiguity, Mailer asks of his persona: “is he finally comic, a ludicrous figure with mock-heroic associations; or is he not unheroic, and therefore embedded somewhat tragically in the comic? Or is he both at once, and all at once?” {{sfn|Mailer|1968|p=65}}. He goes on to suggest that there may be no answers to these questions, just as the ambiguity of the event itself may never be resolved. Kathy Smith argues that in ''Armies'' “the self ’s preemption of the story, the self ''as'' story, is the only strategy that can precipitate a radical rethinking of how history provides cohesive explanations of ambiguous events” {{sfn|Smith|2003|p=187}}. Mailer indeed suggests that history is an ambiguous and dynamic process, not static. The significance of events, therefore, must continually be reassessed, and from as many points of view as possible. If he conceives of contemporary history as fundamentally ambiguous, even absurd, his role as participant is similarly ambiguous and absurd, in Mailer’s view. | ||
Mailer’s conception of history and his own role in the historical drama overlap. John Hellmann observes that Mailer “casts himself as a protagonist able to bridge self and event through action and metaphor” {{sfn|Hellmann|1981|p=37}}. Indeed, one of the text’s central metaphors compares history to a “crazy house” that the reader gains entrance to via Mailer’s persona as “bridge”{{sfn|Mailer|1968|p=66}}. Mailer says that | Mailer’s conception of history and his own role in the historical drama overlap. John Hellmann observes that Mailer “casts himself as a protagonist able to bridge self and event through action and metaphor” {{sfn|Hellmann|1981|p=37}}. Indeed, one of the text’s central metaphors compares history to a “crazy house” that the reader gains entrance to via Mailer’s persona as “bridge”{{sfn|Mailer|1968|p=66}}. Mailer says that | ||
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However, if the opening chapters of Book Two are less self-consciously dramatic than Book One—both in terms of the nature of the events described and the narrator’s reaction to those events—Book Two, Chapter 6 quickens the dramatic pace. All of the events related up to this point lead to the principal confrontation between demonstrators and U.S. troops in front of the Pentagon. Mailer begins Book Two, Chapter 6 with the following assertion: “It is on this particular confrontation that the conceit one is writing a history must be relinquished” {{sfn|Mailer|1968|p=280}}. He explains that if “the first book is a history in the guise or dress or manifest of a novel ... the second is a real or true novel ... presented in the style of a history,” thus blurring the distinction between the two forms of writing {{sfn|Mailer|1968|p=281}}. Nevertheless, ''Armies'' does, indeed, become more novelistic from this point on: the narrative drive shifts into a higher gear, and Mailer’s imagination goes to work. The narrator is then able to dramatize certain details of the action not because he personally witnessed them, having by this point been arrested and incarcerated, but because his participation in the march up to the arrest was sufficient to enable him to recreate the mood of the proceedings. | However, if the opening chapters of Book Two are less self-consciously dramatic than Book One—both in terms of the nature of the events described and the narrator’s reaction to those events—Book Two, Chapter 6 quickens the dramatic pace. All of the events related up to this point lead to the principal confrontation between demonstrators and U.S. troops in front of the Pentagon. Mailer begins Book Two, Chapter 6 with the following assertion: “It is on this particular confrontation that the conceit one is writing a history must be relinquished” {{sfn|Mailer|1968|p=280}}. He explains that if “the first book is a history in the guise or dress or manifest of a novel ... the second is a real or true novel ... presented in the style of a history,” thus blurring the distinction between the two forms of writing {{sfn|Mailer|1968|p=281}}. Nevertheless, ''Armies'' does, indeed, become more novelistic from this point on: the narrative drive shifts into a higher gear, and Mailer’s imagination goes to work. The narrator is then able to dramatize certain details of the action not because he personally witnessed them, having by this point been arrested and incarcerated, but because his participation in the march up to the arrest was sufficient to enable him to recreate the mood of the proceedings. | ||
Book Two introduces a new dramatic conflict: in Book Two, Chapter 6, the confrontation between troops and demonstrators becomes, in part, a political struggle between working class and urban middle class youth. This conflict comes as a surprise, as Mailer notes: “It would take the rebirth of Marx for Marxism to explain definitively this middle class condemnation of an imperialist war in the last Capitalist nation, this working class affirmation” {{sfn|Mailer|1968|p=284}}. The narrator muses on this apparent contradiction, reasoning that the students own neither property nor the means of production and so are cut off from the real source of power, and yet their education has provided them with the critical framework to reflect upon their own powerless- ness and alienation; they are, therefore, the most critical of their government’s policies. The working class, by contrast, “is loyal to friends, not ideas,” so alienation is less likely {{sfn|Mailer|1968|p=284}}. “No wonder the Army bothered them not a bit,” Mailer says {{sfn|Mailer|1968|p=284}}. The working class has the authority and the guns, but the urban middle class feels it has the moral advantage. Mailer imaginatively recreates the message the urban middle class youth brings to the troops: “I am morally right and you are wrong and the balance of existence is such that the meat of your life is now attached to my spirit. I am stealing your balls” {{sfn|Mailer|1968|p=285}}. Later, however, in a dramatic reversal, the antagonistic forces of the U.S. Military reassert their dominance. After dark, when many of the protestors have left the grounds of the Pentagon, the Military rotates its forces; the troops form a wedge and begin moving through the crowd to separate it, kicking and clubbing at the demonstrators. Mailer quotes several accounts of “The Battle of the Wedge” which describe the violence and brutality in graphic detail {{sfn|Mailer|1968|p= | Book Two introduces a new dramatic conflict: in Book Two, Chapter 6, the confrontation between troops and demonstrators becomes, in part, a political struggle between working class and urban middle class youth. This conflict comes as a surprise, as Mailer notes: “It would take the rebirth of Marx for Marxism to explain definitively this middle class condemnation of an imperialist war in the last Capitalist nation, this working class affirmation” {{sfn|Mailer|1968|p=284}}. The narrator muses on this apparent contradiction, reasoning that the students own neither property nor the means of production and so are cut off from the real source of power, and yet their education has provided them with the critical framework to reflect upon their own powerless- ness and alienation; they are, therefore, the most critical of their government’s policies. The working class, by contrast, “is loyal to friends, not ideas,” so alienation is less likely {{sfn|Mailer|1968|p=284}}. “No wonder the Army bothered them not a bit,” Mailer says {{sfn|Mailer|1968|p=284}}. The working class has the authority and the guns, but the urban middle class feels it has the moral advantage. Mailer imaginatively recreates the message the urban middle class youth brings to the troops: “I am morally right and you are wrong and the balance of existence is such that the meat of your life is now attached to my spirit. I am stealing your balls” {{sfn|Mailer|1968|p=285}}. Later, however, in a dramatic reversal, the antagonistic forces of the U.S. Military reassert their dominance. After dark, when many of the protestors have left the grounds of the Pentagon, the Military rotates its forces; the troops form a wedge and begin moving through the crowd to separate it, kicking and clubbing at the demonstrators. Mailer quotes several accounts of “The Battle of the Wedge” which describe the violence and brutality in graphic detail {{sfn|Mailer|1968|p=299-305}}. Mailer points out that much of the violence was directed at women, in what he interprets as a symbolic attempt on the part of the Military to emasculate the male demonstrators; the working class youth “had plucked all stolen balls back,” he says {{sfn|Mailer|1968|p=304}}. Various demonstrators point out that the Military had no legal right to attack protestors acting under the protection of a permit. Mailer states that “[t]he Army had been guilty of illegal activity and knew it,” appealing to the moral indignation of his readers {{sfn|Mailer|1968|p=306}}. | ||
Book Two, Chapter 10 concerns the repercussions of the march and follows up on continued protest activities. Many of the activists served extended prison sentences and were brutally mistreated for non-cooperation with their incarcerators. In the following passage, Mailer dramatizes their | Book Two, Chapter 10 concerns the repercussions of the march and follows up on continued protest activities. Many of the activists served extended prison sentences and were brutally mistreated for non-cooperation with their incarcerators. In the following passage, Mailer dramatizes their | ||