Saturday, October 20, 2012

Shedding the Skin


Change is an everlasting part of life. Every day and second brings about change in governments, ideas, and cities. Most importantly, every day brings change in people. Humanity revolves around deviations and fluctuations, in fact, it survives because of them. Friederich Nietzsche once said that “the snake which cannot cast its skin has to die,” in One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest by Ken Kesey, this phrase proves uncannily accurate.  As the novel reaches its ending, the change in every one of Kesey’s characters is evident in their dialogue, actions, and attitude. One of the changes that is worth highlighting, is the one Harding goes through since McMurphy enters the ward, not only because it’s less obvious than that of the rest of the Acutes, but also because it’s one of the most significant. Throughout the novel, Harding progresses from being a rabbit to a full-fledged man. How does a change so impressive take place? Really, it’s all about knowing where the power lies, and what must be done to subsist.

“…we’re all here because we can’t adjust to our rabbithood. We need a good strong wolf like the nurse to teach us our place.” (pg. 58) When Harding mentions this in the first pages of the book, he is convinced that the power in the ward lies in the hands of the nurse, and that he needs her presence in order to go through life. The problem with his theory at this point is that he hasn’t accepted who he is.  Being a homosexual in the 1950’s was regarded as an abnormality, it was even condemned a sickness by many people around the globe. As the book progresses, one comes to realize that this ‘sickness’ is exactly the reason Harding is in the ward in the first place. At the beginning of the book, Harding is a closeted homosexual who is looking for guidance. He is a self-proclaimed rabbit, seeking cover from society’s insults. Mainly, he’s hiding from shame.

When he discovers this, McMurphy maneuvers through Harding’s fears and guilt, slowly showing him that power within the ward is actually in the patient’s hands; convincing him that the nurse isn’t necessary to guide his way. By the time the fishing trip takes place, Harding’s hypothesis about wolves and rabbits is annulled when he says: “”Never before did I realize that mental madness could have the aspect of power, power. Think of it: perhaps the more insane a man is, the more powerful he could become. Hitler an example. Fair makes the old brain reel, doesn’t it? Food for thought there.” (pg. 204)  

That quote; that single moment in the book, is when Harding sheds his snake skin and lives again. It is when he utters those five sentences that he becomes a man, ready to govern himself and accept the fact that he’s not insane: he’s just “different,” as he claims to be in page 246.

If he hadn’t shed his skin, if he hadn’t been pushed along by McMurphy to embrace change in his life, where would Harding end? Probably in the ward … thoroughly convinced of his rabbithood and impotence… refusing to live. But he did shed the skin, and he was pushed along, and for those reasons, Harding gains power of himself and his choices. He changes his mentality and accepts who he is in order to subsist within society.

“…they are sick men now. No more rabbits Mack.” (pg.204) 

Monday, October 1, 2012

Big brother vs. The Big Nurse


It often strikes me how similar One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest and 1984 by George Orwell are, not only in the dystopia they create, the use of “the hate” as a state of being, the creation of a bigger movement which seems to rule everything from a distance (In Orwell’s case “The Party” and in Kesey’s case “The Combine”), but also in the god-like figure that rules the previously mentioned dystopia. The Big Nurse has no feeling of pity or pain, or anything. In many ways she is exactly like Big Brother in Orwell’s novel: she’s always watching, she inspires fear without really punishing people outright, and she controls everything. There is however, one difference between her and Big Brother that makes her all the more intimidating: she’s real.


In Orwell’s book, Big Brother isn’t really a person. As an image, he can be everywhere and manage everything, without explicitly existing. This may seem daunting at first, having an imaginary entity watching over you, but overall, actually knowing that the physical being is lurking around ready to pounce makes the Big Nurse frightening. She has more direct presence in the patients’ life than Big Brother does in 1984’s citizens. Furthermore, Big Brother lacks the feminine intrigue that Nurse Ratched offers the role.   With the character being a woman, come many different types of intimidation than a man can attempt.


Oscar Wilde once said: “A man’s face is his autobiography. A woman’s face is her work of fiction.”  Women have always been a mystery to men, or at least that’s what many of the men I know have told me. In a woman, a smile can mean happiness, but it can also be resentful, angry, warning, sarcastic, etc. All in all, women pose enigmas men will never be able to figure out. Why is this worse than the image of Big Brother? Basically because a man being emasculated by a woman is, by far, more humiliating than a woman being intimidated by a man. The fear of humiliation in every patient’s life makes them feel insignificant, and, being unable to figure out what the nurse is thinking, they are often at loss as to how they are expected to react. Moreover, a man tends to be attracted by women, and not being able to get the Big Nurse’s attention in any way brings the interns’ confidence even lower.

“I couldn’t get it up over old frozen face in there even if she had the beauty of Marilyn Monroe.” Pg.64

Why are women so much more intriguing to men than men are to women? It’s probably because women are usually harder to figure out, more complicated, harsh, easy to anger and hard to calm down. A man is born with respect just because of the fact that he is a man, a woman is taught the hard way to demand respect, and nothing is more intimidating than a woman with power. Maybe this is why Kesey chose a woman for his god-like role, maybe he realized than a bunch of men being controlled by one powerful woman provided a certain tension and humiliation that wouldn’t be created if the leader was a man. Does this mean that his all-powerful being is better than Orwell’s? No. Does it mean that it is scarier? Yes.

Definitely yes. 

Hidden for the Best


“I see a lot of fog and a few lights. I like it when life’s hidden. It gives you a chance to imagine nice things, nicer than they are. “
- Ben Hecht

As we progress through the madness that is One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest, we begin to realize that the Chief isn’t really as crazy as he seems, it’s more like he just happens to be caught in the middle of an insane situation. Throughout the story, small moments make the reader question whether he is a reliable narrator. In the end, I believe he is. Exaggerations non-withstanding, I believe he is narrating the very messed-up reality he happens to be living. One of the most questionable aspects of this narrator is his description of “the fog” which appears in the ward when he is tense or scared. As I read I realized that the phrase above could easily be said by the Chief in the moments when said “fog” consumes him. To him, it is very clear what “the fog” is and what it means, but to the reader…

What is this “fog” that seems so important and pacifying in the brittle mind of our narrator?

At some point, I got to thinking that the fog could be a drug used on the patients of the ward to blur their memories, making them susceptible to any punishment the Big Nurse decides they deserve. This hypothesis is supported by the Chief on page 7 when he states that the two black helpers “...start the fog machine again…” A drug is to me, a very plausible theory for the fog because it provides an explanation to the calming and memory effects this phenomenon has. There are however, other possible explanations to this specific symbol in Kesey’s book. It could mean peace of mind; it could represent a person’s sense of security; or more significantly, it could symbolize mankind’s tendency to turn a blind eye to the most horrible events in the world. In the book, the fog usually shows itself when the Chief feels uncomfortable, scared, or tense; showing that the last meaning for the fog could be very accurate. As human beings we shy away from all of the previously mentioned feelings, preferring to turn our heads and walk away rather than to face them, locking ourselves away in a world where, like the quote at the beginning of this post states: everything seems better than it is.

Whatever “the fog” truly signifies may be clarified in later pages, or maybe it will never be fully explained, left open to every reader’s interpretation. In any case, whatever it represents is a safety valve for the Chief. After he’s consumed by the fog, he seems more peaceful, calm. When he is enveloped by the fog, to the Chief, “…life’s hidden.”