Amos Oz’s
novel My Michael traces the
psychological meanderings of young wife and mother, Hannah. As the speaker in
the book, thirty-year-old Hannah looks back at her ten-year-long marriage to
Michael. Because her point of view is retrospective, she is able to subtly
foreshadow the “disappointment” that is her marriage (48). The heroine of the
movie at Edison Cinema “dies of unrequited love after sacrificing her body and
her soul for a worthless man” (21). The “strange language” of her geologist
husband tells of the “forces [that] are perpetually at work” under “the surface
of the earth”: “the thin sedimentary rocks are in a continuous process of
disintegration under the force of pressure” (12). And on a New Year’s Day,
Hannah watches a rusted bowl, which had been hung in a tree in the backyard since
the couple had moved into the apartment, fall to the ground. She explains the
collapse: “strong forces came to fruition at that moment” (101). Drawing a
parallel to her collapsing relationship with Michael, Hannah adds, “All those
years I had observed complete repose in an object in which a hidden process was
taking place, all those years” (101).
But while all of these images
suggest a deep violence between both people--that is, Hannah and
Michael--perhaps this is a misconstruing on Hannah’s part. She underestimates
her own role in the disappointment. Along with continual depression, Hannah clings
to an idealized image of her perfect marriage relationship, in which she “creep[s]
into [her husband’s] severely furnished study, put[s] a glass of tea down”
without him noticing (48). Michael, on the other hand, is more of a realist: he
mocks the “prince-poet-boxer-pilot husband” for whom Hannah longs (222). As a
result, he does not feel the same disappointment as Hannah. Her feeling of loss
is based in the difference between her idealized and ultimately unrealistic and
unfulfilling vision of marriage and the mundane reality of marriage. And she
attributes her disappointment to an underlying battle between her and Michael,
but perhaps does not give enough credit to real problems of her own--depression
and unrealistic expectations. Though I may not find myself in as complicated a
situation as Hannah--deeply disappointed, in a marriage, and with a young
child--her story has served as a sort of haunting warning. The more stubbornly
I cling to idealized visions for my future, the more likely disappointment is
to come and the less likely I am to enter into honest and mutual relationships.
Perhaps I should heed Michael’s advice: “[I]t [is] a mistake to demand too much
from life” (56).
Wow. This is a very fine response, Lydia. You have drawn a great deal of insight from the novel, from the flawed relationship, and from Hannah herself. Your ability to draw fine distinctions and to articulate relationships is really quite energizing for a reader. I am not quite so sanguine about your point of engagement, however. You are right, of course, in thinking that idealizing a spouse or the institution of marriage itself can lead to misjudgement and to difficulties. But I suspect it is not the idealizing alone that is the problem in this relationship. I think rather it is the grip of the past that skews her ideals AND her experience. Her father, after all, controls some of that idealism despite the fact that he is dead. The same might be said of Michael, although the past that grips him is harder to account for. I think a necessary idealism is one based on the possibilities of marriage itself and on the actual person you marry -- a practical idealism, if there is such as thing, in which love governs.
ReplyDeleteAnyway, I enjoy your discussion.