Monday, June 20, 2022

Why Art Matters: A Separate Peace


I first read A Separate Peace for freshman honors English in ‘83/‘84, so I feel like I’m rewriting a book report 38 years later. Reading as an adult, this text is richly complex, with themes that resonate with each generation. Since Mr. Koeningchngt (sp?) isn’t around to give me a C, I can type away. And there’s a freedom to this, a ramble as I sort it out without the desperate hope I’ve written enough for an A.

And there is a lot to unpack here.

The first thing is the book is a tale about a rich white male. Tired. The fact it is still standard reading in high schools is frankly, surprising. But upon examination, there’s justification.

OMG, how did we overlook the overt homoeroticism of the relationship between Finny and Gene? The author denies it, and yet we have their night at the beach where Gene lovingly and lustfully describes Finny’s physical beauty as easily as a lover. And the tension between the two gives off will they or won’t they vibes. 

Yeah, they won't. 

Gene, the narrator, is an anti-hero, and one character after another calls him out for being a jealous guy, emotionally weak, selfish, a liar, and a loser.  I never found myself rooting for him. For some reason he is not honest with classmates about the most basic information, to the point I’m not sure which southern state he originated from. Texas? Georgia? Alabama? And his treatment of Leper, who reached out to him in despair, is not at all in keeping with what is expected of a friend, a hero. Gene left him to twist alone in the winter chill. But as a reader, am I expecting too much of a 17 year old?

But Finny, in coping with his injury, isn’t honest with himself either. Because he cannot serve in World War II, he develops a conspiracy theory that the war doesn’t exist. That it's a game dreamed up by fat cat bureaucrats. When Gene travels to Boston to check on his friend and admit to his mistake in the tree, Finny ignores his admission of guilt and makes up an alternate reality where the tree is at fault, not his best friend. 

So, they are codependent on each other in friendship and in deceiving themselves.

The overarching theme of the book for every character is the creation of protective bubbles, a separate peace that shelters them from the war. The diversions they create for themselves in the insulated safe haven of their boarding school - secret societies, clubs, carnivals - protect them from the war, until the war encroaches on the campus, and starts to claim student soldiers. By the time the climax occurs and the class of ‘43 graduates, the war has become a permanent part of the campus, the Far Commons a space for the army to train recruits and produce parachutes. Devon was no longer a safe haven. 

The book is also anti-war, Brinker transitioning from a patriot calling out those not eager to enlist, to a reluctant soldier, wondering out loud what the point is. There is also his uncomfortable relationship with his father, a WWI veteran who insists the war is just the thing for virile young men to become heroes, relishing his good old days. Leper’s emotional breakdown and AWOL status. Gene’s passive decision to let the draft decide his fate. 

When Finny passes away, he becomes forever a child, an immature idealist, pure of heart and intent, a tragic casualty of war even though he was never a soldier. 

Before Finny dies he forgives Gene, but it is clear that Gene has not forgiven himself, revisiting the scene 15 years later. Nothing is said of Gene’s desire to be valedictorian of his class, the goal abandoned. 

What’s startling about reading this 80 years past the fictionalized events of the book is we have been fighting conflicts with every generation with the same reactions. Vietnam. Gulf War. Desert Storm. The patriotic reaction to the events of 9/11. The constant, exhausting narrative that is conspiracy theories, the attempt to absolve bad people of bad behavior by accusing others of lies and cover-ups. 

Finny also follows the literary prep school tradition of spirited troublemakers, Doc Macnooder and Hickey from The Lawrenceville Stories come to mind. 

I’ve since moved on, reading stories depicting more anti-heroes, this time a loosely connected series of stories telling individual immigrant tales. No saints here either: an Asian pop star who cannot stay out of the tabloids, an unemployed software engineer setting a campsite on fire in a rage, and a locksmith who trashes the apartment of the man having an affair with his mother. I guess it’s as much a story of the struggle of the Everyman in face of adversity, we all can’t be winners. 

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