Red Herrings--Mystery in The Surrendered--Deborah Rocheleau

     Mysteries aren’t just for detective novels. We see this firsthand in Chang Rae Lee’s The Surrendered, in which war-survivor June Han uses red herrings and deception—elements of the mystery genre—to obscure the truth. In chapter nine in particular, we find a dubious conversation between June and her son Nicholas in which she tells him about Sylvie, a woman she knew during the war.

She told him [Sylvie’s name] and though it could mean nothing to him the name seemed to spark his imagination as might a character in a story. “What happened to her?”

     “There was an accident.”

     “What kind of accident?”

     “A fire.’ (250)

     From an earlier scene on page 48, we know that June often lied to Nicholas about her past, and so this dialogue could be laced with “loose improvisations” (48), carefully constructed to sate Nicholas’ curiosity about the war without revealing the truth. Several factors throw suspicion on June’s words; her observation that Sylvie feels like “a character in a story” suggesting that, like a fictional character, Sylvie is subject to the imagination of the author. June’s reluctance to provide specific details until pressed further suggests deception, in light of the passage on 48 in which June admits that “she found that concrete facts would put [Nicholas] off” the scent of the truth. Countless times throughout the novel, Chang uses June’s unreliable narration to build suspense in the reader, slowly revealing what is lie and what is a fact concerning what really happened during the war.

     Readers must finish the book to discover which of June’s words are true. Along the way, however, her ability to deceive becomes more and more pronounced, even as readers must rely on her as a narrator. This unreliable narration technique plays throughout the novel, as the reader is propelled, much like the private investigator Clines—to uncover the truth one unrelated fact at a time. 

Selfishness and Sacrifice in "The Surrendered" By Cody R. Tucker

“The officer sharply gave an order and one of the soldiers stood over Sylvie and began unbuckling his belt. It was then that Benjamin began screaming again. He was screaming bloody murder, all the names of his compatriots, screaming them in a litany, most loudly his own” (Lee, 239).

            The passage above acts as an antithesis to the principle of survival. Originally, Benjamin holds back the knowledge of fellow communists to the Japanese soldiers. As a result, much of Sylvie’s missionary associates are killed or hurt by the soldiers. It is only when Sylvie is threatened (with rape, not death) that Benjamin sacrifices his communist cover to save her. It is interesting, because one missionary wishes to kill Benjamin, again for his own survival, but is killed in the struggle that follows.

             I’m noticing a pattern of moral circumstance in the realm of survival found in Chang-Rae Lee’s novel, The Surrendered. There are instances in which characters lose people close to them. To make these instances more crushing, the deaths seem incidentally caused by the character acting within their own self-interest, even for a moment. We were discussing how trying to survive in this narrative de-humanizes people to the point that they act like animals simply trying to not die at any cost. I believe that this applies to this set of patterns I am about to confer. Losing people as a result of self-interest goes back to the life-stories of two other main characters: June and Hector.

             June loses her siblings after falling asleep on the train, though she originally resolves to stay awake to watch out for them. She succumbs to sleep and they seem to fall off of the train and die as a result of this lapse in her watch. She even leaves her brother at the end of the chapter at his suggestion, despite his bad injury. Hector loses his father in a similar fashion. After leaving his father at the bar, Hector goes off to have sex with a local woman whom he is attracted to. It is later learned that without Hector to watch out for him, his father falls into the Erie Canal and drowns. Lee seems to focused upon this theme of death, selfishness, and sacrifice as he keeps using it throughout each of the character’s life-stories. I believe that we shall see a similar situation again.

To Report an Incident is Not to Tell a Story

            In Richard Bausch's Peace, shortly before Asch, Joyner, and Marson witness the killing of Jews in a nearby town and some time after the soldiers have discussed the murder they witnessed, Asch informs the others, "I’m reporting it. That’s all I’m saying. I’m not going to go the rest of my life carrying this" - to which Joyner eventually responds, "You might've noticed that two of us got it when she fell out of that cart... she was a Nazi, man" (105-106). I am concerned here with Bausch’s use of the word “report.” It is a military word, and, like other military words in Peace, it fails to grasp the human impact of violence. Asch wishes to see Glick brought to justice for killing the unarmed woman because justice for Glick would create a story with an emotionally satisfying conclusion. The report itself would not be storytelling per se but the recounting of an incident: the soldiers overturned a cart, a Nazi officer and a woman fell out, and after the Nazi killed two American soldiers, Marson killed the officer and Glick killed the unarmed woman. A report lacks characters, plot, and narrative perspective: it is, in Benjamin's terms, information, not storytelling. While at first Asch’s determination to report the incident may read as an urge to tell a story – to confess, to speak forth the incident in order to make sense of what happened – we can view it instead as an urge to create or improve the story. Asch has created a provisional story to the woman’s murder on the road, but most of its characters are bystanders, witnesses to an atrocity; the story ends with some of the men surviving with the knowledge that an unarmed woman was killed for no reason besides Sgt. Glick’s caprice. Unwilling to be cast as bystander to a murder, Asch tries to change the story by pressing the other men to report the incident, which would allow him to tell himself a story that ends with justice for Glick. For Asch, and for Bausch’s Peace, storytelling is not merely a means of absolving or interpreting violence, but a motivation for rectifying violence. Bausch leaves his readers with two choices: rationalize violence, as Joyner does, or try to rectify it. Marson, the perspective character, stands between them, horrified at the woman’s murder but unable to proceed in either direction.

Learning from History

Nicole Gilmer

As Richard Bausch’s novel Peace nears its end, Marson thinks to himself that “they were in this space together… having been faced with this something so far beyond their own worst expectations of themselves or of the world, even a world at war. It was a strange, sorrowful moment… [and he] had to work to put it down in himself” (122). This reflection shows the way in which Marson is concerned with understanding his situation and being able to “put it down in himself” so that it shapes the circumstances into something reasonable. Marson realizes that, although he has heard and read stories of war before, he was not prepared for what it meant to be involved in a war. He could not have foreseen the toll it would take on him or the mark it would leave on the land around him. Joyner, Asch, and Angelo are equally dumbfounded in the face of the horrors of war. Bausch is making the point that if we don’t learn from history, we are doomed to repeat it; but that it’s often difficult to truly understand something you’ve not directly experienced.

This is why Mason finds it so important to be able to frame the war in a story that both he and others can be receptive to. The ability to effectively create this narrative is not one that is often possessed. For example, Asch’s grandfather had been in the First World War and told stories about it but still Asch was not prepared for the atrocities which he would witness during war. Marson too had been exposed to stories of war (he mentions having read The Red Badge of Courage) but found it entirely un-relatable when compared to the realities he experienced. It seems that true “Peace” may be attainable if relating war through a story were easier to do; if finding a way to “put it down” and properly capture all the unnecessary “strange, sorrowful moment[s]” were not so impossible. 

Fiction VS. Reality

Bethany Douglas

Early in Richard Bausch's Peace, Asch and Marson take to discussing their home lives to reminisce on pleasanter times and Marson reflects on a novel he read once, "He had read the Crane novel about the civil war, and Crane's conclusion-that his fictional soldier had seen the great death and it was, after all, only death-seemed utterly false to him, dangerously, stupidly romantic" (41). This statement captures the overall belief reflected in the novel, specifically by Marson and Asch, that death carries a great impact on those who witness it. The novel repeatedly brings us back to the moment Glick shoots the woman and how Asch, Joyner, and Marson react to this moment. The fact that Marson asserts how dangerous and stupid the idea that death is just death demonstrates the way the war has affected him in that he recognizes the impact of death and witnessing it. I believe the phrase "fictional soldier" further emphasizes Marson's disdain about the ideology of the novel and serves to demonstrate the difference between a fictional soldier and, in the world of this novel, a real one. For Marson, the fictional soldier has no problem believing in these dangerous and stupid ideas about death as he does not have to deal with the actual affects that death has on soldiers. This idea of death leaving an impact resonates throughout the novel as Marson and the others reflect on the horrid reality that they witnessed a murder in the middle of a war and now must deal with the two deaths on their hands, Marson specifically as he was responsible for the death of the German soldier. This one line then discusses the ideas reflected throughout the novel and leads to a greater understanding of why the men cannot accept the woman's death and have to work so hard to process it despite being in the midst of the general death caused by war.

The Truth in Storytelling

Blair Bailey

In the latter half of Richard Bausch’s Peace, the soldiers are feeling the heaviness of their situation as they sit on the mountain and listen to the volleying shots of the enemy’s guns. As Asch struggles to find meaning in his prayers, “Marson watched him and kept trying to pray. He could not find the words. Each time there was a volley, the sound of it and what it meant rose up in him, facing him, a wall against which his own soul could only collide in unbelief.” (121). this passage shows Marson’s attempt to comprehend what he is experiencing. In the past, Marson has relied on his words to make since of his surroundings and had the ability to tell good stories. Though in this instance, he fails to find the words.

Even earlier in the novel, Bausch mentions how Wagner trusted Marson because he was a storyteller. In regards to storytelling, there is a certain amount of trust that goes into the process. Not only does it require the listener to believe the story but the teller must believe in the story’s counsel. The chosen passage mentions that the sounds created a wall in him that “his own soul could only collide in unbelief. Marson knew what he was listening to over the hill but he could no longer use words to make since of it. What he was experiencing was so distant from what he could comprehend, that language itself could no longer connect him to his humanity. He sits blank and in disbelief as realizes that he cannot describe the closeness and realness of what is going.  He knew that no words that would make his story believable as he experienced it to any listener because he himself was in disbelief.

Bausch made it clear that storytelling plays an important role in connecting human experiences. It is used through the novel to bring a since of humanity and comfort to the soldiers. Though as the night gets harder and words have less meaning, Marson and his companions hold on to the idea that the words would help it all make since as Marson "kept trying to pray" in an attempted to sort through this undeniable truth.

The Unavoidable Story of The Truth: Storytelling in Bausch's Peace

In the midst of Richard Bausch’s Peace, Marson stops to recall details about the storytelling tendencies of Walberg, “a look would come to his dark eyes, an anxious widening of them, as if he understood quite well that no one would believe him, and yet he was compelled to tell the story” (62-63). Marson’s recollection of Walberg’s tendencies provides commentary that applies to the propensities of all the soldiers throughout the entirety of the novel. Walberg, though doubtful his stories will pass as believable, continues on because he feels such a strong pull to tell it. This unavoidable force that storytelling holds over Walberg is the same force that Marson, Joyner and Asch feel throughout.

Marson’s recollection of Walberg’s tendencies comes at a crucial time in the novel, while he, Asch and Joyner all grapple with whether or not to report what actually happened during the skirmish with the German soldier and the woman. Though their version of events is more than just a story, it is the truth, they still battle whether or not their version will be accepted as such. Perhaps Marson recalls Walberg’s pull towards storytelling at this point because Walberg refuses to refrain from telling a story he believes is the honest truth, just as the three men battle telling theirs. Either way, the similarities between Walberg’s wartime storytelling propensities and the recurring storytelling themes throughout provide an undeniable commentary by Bausch that storytelling is an act that one often finds unavoidable and imperative, whether the receiving party believes the story or not.

The World Has Moved On

Sean Gaboury

It would be naive of me to write this in the context of war as a whole, since the dawn of organized communities also brought about the concept of warring. But as a modern western world, more civilized per se, we brought about an era of what could be considered relative peace compared to centuries prior. Before the advent of such common reasons to travel abroad whether on business or for pleasure, most people only visited a new country if they were being shipped out for a military conflict. As this continued, soldiers began to learn and adopt the customs and language of other soldiers from other countries, whether it be allies or the enemy. These were the frontiersmen, and no matter how important or useful anyone back home was, they couldn't experience this new culture.

When the group is at camp in the middle of Richard Bausch's Peace, Mario introduces his father to the group. His father is a large, muscular man with hands that displayed his likely hard-working life back home. Despite the physical attributes, his father Giuseppe still feels inadequate. Upon his introduction,
"He said something to Marson in Italian, glanced at Mario, and then back at Marson. 'Per favore,' he said.
'I'm sorry,' Marson told him. 'Non parlo italiano.'
'This is my father,' Mario said. 'He's embarrassed by his English, so he speaks Italian to you.'"(90)
I find it interesting that a man that is surely a highly contributing man of his community can still be embarrassed about this cultural divide. This gives the impression that the generation of young men who are fighting in this World War are those of a new generation of bonds between countries. With the relative peace-time that men such as Giuseppe had encountered, and his country basically switching sides between Great Wars, his generation didn't truly have the chance of connecting to others like World War II had allowed. Giuseppe aspires to be like these young men.

While commerce and trade after the war ended exploded within counties involved in the conflict, the spread of influence of not only the victors but the reciprocation of the less fortunate changed the western landscape, with relations between America and Europe at a new high. These soldiers, and this war changed how countries communicate, and soon English spread as a second language to many European countries and even Japan. In the modern world, commerce directs the flow of country connections and communications, but the true communication was brought by war.

Storytelling as a Developed Coping Mechanism - Not a Majority Talent

Jessica Blair
             Near the beginning of Richard Bausch’s Peace, the narrator, Marson, pauses while recounting Joyner’s storytelling ability to reflect upon his own: “[Joyner] had once seen Benny Goodman at the Aragon Ballroom in Chicago, and he talked about the women he met that night and about walking along the lake in the summer dark with the city shining on the water. He could be expressive in that way, too, which made him all the more troublesome to Marson, who was himself expressive and liked what his mother always called picture speech, words and phrases that took you somewhere other than where you were” (28-9). This storytelling ability is not prevalent just in Marson and Joyner, but in the majority of the other characters, as well. Since this ability is so common amongst the soldiers, it could be argued that this talent isn’t natural, but one that is developed during the war to give the men an outlet to cope.
            It is widely accepted that the storytelling in the novel is a coping mechanism, however, it is much more important than that. It is a learned behavior that the men build on with each other to handle the atrocities of war. For example, on page 63, Marson is remembering Walberg before he was killed. Marson recounts Walberg having “the hope of being as funny and entertaining as the others – the desire to be a storyteller, like Marson – and the generations, too”. All of the men are storytellers and Walberg is striving to become like them. This ability is passing through generations of soldiers in order for them to cope. It is evident in Marson’s recollection that this is a learning process for the younger soldiers. Walberg, being younger than the rest of his group, had to learn to be as funny and entertaining as the more seasoned soldiers. He had not yet had the experience to fully develop his coping mechanism, as the others had. This is very telling to the fact that this ability is developed for coping over time, rather than just a hidden ability that all of the men appear to possess.

Connected to Death: Richard Bausch - Katharine Schlegel

Katharine Schlegel

            A quarter of the way through Richard Bausch’s Peace, Marson listens to Asch as he remembers the death of his wife’s first husband, “(He) slipped in the bath. No kidding. Fell over and conked his head and that was that. He’d served us iced tea the afternoon it happened. Singing in the shower and the next minute: dead. It doesn’t only take war, you know?” (40). This passage shows Asch’s attempt to make the war less frightening by recalling a story from his past, and becoming apathetic to death. The novel suggests that soldiers use stories to make war less ominous by distorting the atrocities witnessed while serving in the military. Marson, Asch, and the others often demonstrate this when remembering the murder of the German woman at the beginning of the story. The quote above shows that trivializing the horrors of war began before the soldiers even started up the mountain.

            Asch simplifies death; he retells the story of his wife’s late husband as if the incident was inconsequential. He uses phrases like “conked his head” and “singing in the shower” to maintain a lighthearted tone while talking about a nice guy’s instantaneous death. The theme of this particular story reminds Asch that death occurs regardless of one’s location, but his current location is a constant reminder that his chance of dying is amplified.

            In Asch’s final statement, “It doesn’t only take war, you know?” he expresses a desire for understanding. Asch automatically connects to the other soldiers through their shared military experience, but he longs for a human connection. He tries to achieve this by sharing his experiences through his stories. The soldiers on the mountain attempt to understand death from a militaristic perspective, while maintaining their humanity.

Patriotism

Jacob Smith

Patriotism

Late in the novel after Marson kills the sniper that shot Asch, a daunting realization comes over him:  “He stumbled out of the clearing and headed down the mountain to catch up with the others, moving quickly, as if running away from what he had just done…He did not feel sick now, so much, but empty.  It seemed that all the human parts of him had gone, had leeched out of him…”Do your duty,” his father had said.  And he could not find in his heart what the word meant anymore. And he could not find in his heart what the word meant anymore…”Do your duty” was an abstraction, and the dead made it seem ugly and irrelevant” (153-154).  Bausch’s telling of Marson’s last exchange with his father initially didn’t carry much weight.  At first, it only seemed to serve as another source of background information, and to fill out Marson as a character.  It also served as another example of time slowing down for Marson amidst the action in the war.  However, it becomes evident that Bausch inserted this patriotism into Marson’s backstory in order to bring into question the futility of it.  There was a large outpouring of nationalism during the Second World War.  This is personified through Joyner’s character as he constantly refers to the Italians as fascists in order to justify Glick shooting the Italian whore.  But it seems to fail Marson in the end.  Even after his father, a man that Marson has dreamt of being able to talk man-to-man with, tries to instill his own patriotism into Marson, it doesn’t help Marson come to grips with his actions.  Marson has done his duty as a soldier, but cannot seem to find satisfaction in this.  This nationalistic pride that fueled young men to battle fails to assuage any grief that Marson feels over the killing.  Ironically, the killing in the name of patriotic duty or vengeance made Marson’s duty all the more meaningless.