We had some great discussion yesterday about the last act of “The Life You Save May Be Your Own.” I had planned to write today about that portion of the story; yesterday’s comments provide an excellent way to start. You can go back and read the back-and-forth, which was very insightful. Meanwhile, I’ll start with Chris’s first comment in the thread:
One thing you didn’t mention, and I am still a bit mystified over, is the presence of the boy/hitchhiker and how Mr. Shiftlet, seemingly out of nowhere, opens up to him about his mother, and then receives that stinging insult. The boy seems more symbol than real. He’s in and out, almost like a deus ex machina. I also found this line interesting: “A cloud, the exact color of the boy’s hat and shaped like a turnip, had descended over the sky…” Again, more symbol than real?
I’m not sure I would use the word “symbol” to describe the boy, though he’s certainly not a full-fledged character. Chris makes an important point when he notes that the looming thunderhead (clearly a symbol of divine judgment) is the color of the boy’s hat. That detail draws a clear connection between the boy and the judgment of God and suggests, it seems to me, that the boy somehow speaks for God in the way that, say, the textbook-flinging girl in “Revelation” speaks for God when she passes judgment on Ruby Turpin. The boy appears and disappears the way that angels so often do in stories. Chris has suggested that the boy’s sudden appearance and lack of context might mean he’s a symbol–a perfectly reasonable assessment. I’m suggesting that it could also mean he’s an angel, bringing a message from God. If you’re bothered by the idea of an angel referring to two mothers as a “fleabag” and a “stinking polecat,” well, so am I.
But consider this possibility: Mr. Shiftlet’s deepest problem is that he thinks he is his own Jesus. Look at this description of the man as he stands before the sunset: “He swung both his whole and his short arm up slowly so that they indicated an expanse of sky and his figure formed a crooked cross.” A crooked cross? That kind of imagery isn’t accidental. Later, when he has gotten the car running, “He had an expression of serious modesty on his face as if he had just raised the dead.” Only God, of course, can do that. Mr. Shiftlet’s gnomic pronouncements, empty though they may be, are modeled after the speech ways of a cult leader or messianic figure.
Mr. Shiftlet is determined to be his own Savior. His self-seriousness is comical, but it also represents serious soul-danger. He embodies a specifically twentieth-century American brand of self-sufficiency, with its commitment to self-improvement and self-confidence and hustle and, ultimately, the mobility represented by his longing for a car.
If indeed Mr. Shiftlet believes himself to be his own savior, then the boy hitchhiker’s insult takes on a whole new significance, especially in light of the fact that O’Connor was a devout Catholic. By saying that Mr. Shiftlet is the son of a stinking polecat, the boy is saying that he is decidedly not the Son of Mary. Mr. Shiftlet cannot save himself or anyone else. Like the rest of us, he is born under the curse of Original Sin.
When the boy jumps out of the car, Mr. Shiftlet is left to ponder these things alone. The experience confirms his belief that the world is rotten (the story’s original title was “The World Is Almost Rotten”). A question worth discussing is whether or not Mr. Shiftlet includes himself in that assessment. These sentences leave some room for interpretation:
Mr. Shiftlet felt that the rottenness of the world was about to engulf him. He raised his arm and let it fall again to his breast. “Oh Lord!” he prayed. “Break forth and was the slime from this earth.”
Bryana Johnson commented yesterday that this episode gives Mr. Shiftlet “an opportunity to show us that he is fully aware of his own rottenness…But although he is acknowledging that he is sickened by the state of the world, and by the evil he is a part of, he doesn’t ever appear to have any intention of doing things any differently than he always has.” The gesture of breast-beating would suggest that perhaps Mr. Shiftlet does understand his own rottenness and feels some guilt about it.
Bryana’s reading is reasonable, but I read it slightly differently. I’m not convinced that Mr. Shiftlet ever understands that he is as rotten as the rest of the world. The idea that the world’s rottenness threatens to engulf him suggests that he still sees that rottenness as being outside him (in my reading of the sentence, anyway). He steps on the gas to leave the world’s rottenness behind him, but in the process he outruns the storm that washes things clean. I’m reminded of Hazel Motes’s belief that the best way to avoid Jesus was to avoid sin.
What do you think? Could the runaway boy in overalls be “a angel of Gawd,” or is this a case of over-reading?
We still haven’t gotten around to the boy in the diner and his declaration that Lucynell the younger is “a angel of Gawd.” What do you make of that scene?