Literature Essay on Post Modernism and The Passion of Eve
A postmodernism analysis of The Passion of New Eve, by Angela Carter
Is she for real? Is this novel for real? These are two questions that present themselves when reading The Passion of New Eve; Carter shows us a world both incredible but recognisable, characters that are, in turn, submissive then dominant and written in a style that breaks boundaries, yet follows a normative literary discourse.
These polarities mirror other polarities that will be discussed in this essay in that they are useful in understanding Carter's work, but perhaps also hinder us from what her real message, if any, was.
There is also an inherent limitation in what seems like a 'slotting into postmodernism' of her work. This will also be discussed; the 'fractured self' of postmodernism, I suggest, is not new, rather it is the utilisation of this self for particular social purposes, that reflects Carter's talent.
This will inevitably bring us back to what she does with language: is she effectively questioning anything through form and style, or does she, in various ways, undermine herself or, perhaps, a belief in any real social change.
The first part of the novel interests itself in presenting a world that is Rabelaisian in context, carnivalesque and uninterested in humanity's hopes beyond sex and death. The novel's protagonist Evelyn considers the America he has arrived in, 'From these unnatural skies fell rains of gelatinous matter, reeking of decay.'
From the multiplicity of voices in this environment come the women that live there, 'the bared teeth in the female circle' (12), who are presented as synonymous with 'the bright, rich smell of shit' (17).
He revels in, is disgusted by, and fears the city he is living in. This is a world of disorder, social flux mirrored in familiar literary terms through sexual degeneration and lack of aesthetic belief. What is different in this context is that, unlike her predecessors, such as Rabelais and the modernists, Carter does not seem to see this world as detrimental. It is in flux, but it holds together in its flux. It revels in change. This seems to be its demise, but there is no alternative or overall society presented. This is the real world.
Jean-Francois Lyotard makes reference to the 'grand' or 'master' narrative, one that serves to validate the mainstream society by viewing a marginalised group as being significant of disorder. Carter discards this theory, preferring in the disorder to see coherence and she does so through the setting and also through the character of Evelyn who is presented as a man who does not understand or can perceive women in any other way except the typical one of the time,
'Tristessa. Enigma. Illusion. Woman? Ah!' (6)
The image of woman, as presented in cinema and the rest of the consumer culture, is what Carter is concerned about. Woman is, from the start, in this culture, fragmented and not known totally in the first part because she is seen through men's eyes primarily, and then secondly, particularly in the period Carter is writing about, through the idealised eyes of Hollywood. One message that Carter presents through the reality of Tristessa, is that women themselves cannot know themselves in this dangerous technological culture and men certainly do not so this results in violence.
This is presented in the way Evelyn treats Leilah. Carter consciously presents this character through Evelyn, thereby pointing out how image threatens woman's health and welfare, as he idealises her, 'She was like a mermaid, an isolated creature that lives in fulfillment of its own senses: she lured me on, she was the lorelei of the gleaming river of traffic…' (23) He becomes bored of her as she becomes real and then becomes pregnant, 'She became only an irritation of the flesh' (31). The imagery of fish, mermaids and other mythical temptresses serve to highlight the danger of male treatment of women, as misconceived and destructive. The journey into the desert where Evelyn meets the Mother 'an incarnated deity' (49) apparently presents the solution to the problem: a return to ancient womanhood in a matriarchal but technological society. There is a graphic and scientific edge to Carter's writing here, as she brings together mythological imagery and scientific actions, resulting in the message that femininity can only be realised properly through this recourse to mythological symbols, 'I realised the warm, red place in which I lay was a simulacrum of the womb.' (52) Yet, it is exaggerated, grotesque and made unreal. The theorizing of an alternative culture edge dangerously towards dystopia, as when the Mother is described in detail, 'And she had made herself! Yes, made herself! She was her own mythological artefact; she had reconstructed her flesh painfully, with knives and with needles, into a transcendental form as an emblem, and flung a patchwork quilt stitched from her daughters' breasts over the cathedral of her interior, the cave within the cave.' (60) It is as if symbols cannot be used effectively anymore; that they are almost as detrimental to a woman's well being as the symbolism at the beginning of the novel; the female body cannot be redefined, it can only be constructed through perverted traditional symbols, such as the womb, the cave, the quilt or needles.
So the language and style of the novel strive towards new literary boundaries by using unusual events and an unusual character. In postmodern terms, Carter not only questions the order of the literary world, but the order of words, the very fabric of the text. In the juxtapositions of settings and symbolism and authorial voice undermining one another, tensions of un-belief are achieved. But by the fact that there is a definite sense of journey and that Evelyn is learning about being a woman, there is a certainty that the tensions are meaningful and ultimately harmonious. There is a trying and a testing in the different stages of the journey that are Dantean in imagery: I think this device achieves a sense of spiritual if not specifically religious journey.
The tensions of this image, however, is presented as the cave is described as 'of a tough, synthetic integument with an unnatural sheen upon it that troubled me to see, it was so slick, so lifeless.' (49) This seems to mirror the situation that Evelyn is in. He does not understand or can be comfortable in his own now female skin. The direct role reversal here is effective as it is used for a post-modern concern: the construction of femininity, in a male-controlled world. This is most closely seen in the scenes with Zero. When he rapes her the experience is closely seen through her eyes, 'I was in no way prepared for the pain; his body was an anonymous instrument of torture, mine my own rack. (86) The sense of detachment experienced during the second rape is also realistic, 'I registered in my mind only the poignant fact of my second rape in two hours. 'Poor Eve! She's being screwed again!'' (90) This achievement of making the protagonist perceive through different flesh is an experience that the reader also goes through, creating the usually marginalised voice of the woman the main narrative.
The role reversal interestingly questions the role of women in this postmodern society as constructed images, specifically in a technological age. In the scenes with Tristessa and Eve, death, sexlessness and sexuality are all offered up, at times grotesquely and then tenderly, 'He and I, she and he, are the sole oasis in this desert.' (148) It is here, when Eve falls in love with Tristessa, that the style changes and the view of how love can construct is being is first presented. On the one hand it can change a woman, and seem to fulfill her ultimate role, 'I'd played such a trick on Mother, had fallen in love.' (151) Then it seems to entail a sense of loss of self. What is apparent is that there seems to be not ultimate fulfillment to be found in each other. The novel is bleak in its post-modern outlook. Its ending, the descent into a cave then onto the ocean, is heavily and traditionally symbolic, and therefore not entirely convincing if a reader were to read the novel in the traditionally chronological and cathartic way. Instead, what is perhaps more helpful, is to view the novel in its parts, as not having an ultimate climax. There is no grand narrative here as there is no grand narrative for women in reality, Carter seems to be saying. It is a very postmodern novel in this sense, and the undermining and use of traditional symbolism conveys this idea: ultimately, Carter does not end as ends suggest death, the typical male literary concern. What seems to happen in this novel instead are suggestions in a playing around with language, that do not push towards fulfillment in ultimates as this would suggest a lie: a utopian fantasy. Carter achieves, through the fracturing of real and unreal narratives, a questioning of truth and urge for social change. Her undecided style mirrors the undecided society, importantly suggesting the truth the novel conveys could one day be achieved in reality. But just like the mirrors in Tristessa's house, it is only when we become sufficiently ware of them that any change will take place.
