27 March 2017
Fort Worth, Texas
Dear Sophomores,
The purpose of Penelope’s retelling of her story in Margaret Atwood’s The Penelopiad, so well known from The Odyssey, is to debunk or demythologize the original story. And why not? Should we really overlook things such as servants and women being treated like commodities to be used, traded, given, and thrown away? And then to glorify such things by portraying the perpetrators to be virtuous, heroic men? These questions lie at the heart of Atwood’s treatment of the tale. Another word for what Atwood does in her novel is “deconstruction.” She deconstructs the story she parallels in The Odyssey to lay bare the unpleasant reality of an unacknowledged aspect of this revered poetic work: the abuse of power and the use of language to oppress.
“Deconstruction” is a post-modern school of philosophical thought that traces its origins to the French critic Jacques Derrida (1930-2004). The Internet Encyclopedia of Philosophy defines Deconstruction thus: "To deconstruct is to take a text apart along the structural 'fault lines' created by the ambiguities inherent in one or more of its key concepts or themes in order to reveal the equivocations or contradictions that make the text possible" (iep.utm.edu). Deconstruction therefore is often used as a tool by its proponents to demonstrate that those in the culture who control language and determine artistic tastes do so for the purpose of legitimizing their own use of naked power for self-aggrandizement. Whether it’s imperial European and Western powers colonizing and maintaining control over the undeveloped countries of the world for their own benefit or men bullying women into subjection to serve them, the official channels of culture--the art, poetry, literature, and music that are officially sanctioned by the culture--are designed to help the dominant classes and groups to stay in power by promoting and disseminating biases in their favor. So the advocates of deconstruction would have us believe. Deconstruction unmasks the oppressors and their oppressive techniques in the hope that the established order can be overturned. Margaret Atwood’s novel seems to be inspired by this deconstructionist impulse.
So in The Penelopiad, Penelope seems to be relating her story in such a way as to lay bare the misogynistic male bias of the original. But there’s an added twist to Atwood’s tale, one that may be unexpected. I wonder if you caught it? As much as Penelope appears to be a champion for the lot of women, her own story is flawed. The opening paragraph of the story highlights Penelope’s unreliability as a narrator. That’s because Penelope also may have her own ulterior motives in telling the story as she does, some skeletons in the closet that she wants to keep hidden.
The key to unveiling her unsavory motives lies in the occasional outbursts of the hanged maids in the story. They act as a Chorus to punctuate Penelope’s story with commentary undercutting or deconstructing the credibility of Icarius’ daughter as just another pampered upper class oppressor who exploits those beneath her. You may have noticed that Penelope consistently bemoans the deaths of the maids as an accident, something she would have tried to prevent if she could have. Unfortunately, she falls asleep during the slaughter of the suitors, and Odysseus/Telemachus kill the maids before she can save them. Both she and they, she implies, are victims of forces beyond their control. But the maids’ several appearances in the story imply something much more sinister: If Penelope was not directly responsible for their deaths, she was complicit with Odysseus in their murders. And so, they blame not only Odysseus for their deaths, but Penelope, as well. After all, their deaths guarantee that they will not be able to report to anyone Penelope’s possible acts of marital infidelity with the Suitors. Therefore, it’s in Penelope’s best interests that they be silenced. The maids’ occasional interference in the story is their attempt to get a fair hearing in circumstances in which the deck is still stacked against them.
Another example of a parallel story to The Odyssey can be found in the film O Brother, Where Art Thou? In past years, my classes have been able to view the film, something not possible because of our time constraints this semester. However, if you ever have a chance to view it on your own, I’d highly recommend it. The film also contains elements of deconstruction, although the emphasis is somewhat different from the Atwood novel. Perhaps we can grudgingly admit in response to detractors that that old dead Greek dude Homer must have done something right to have his story continue to spin off in new directions that make it speak to each new epoch of history in different ways. As the negative sides in my classes might argue, the value of studying Homer’s work is its ability to generate impassioned responses and to keep renewing the conversation that underlies our civilization, keeping it alive and vital.
I hope that's helpful. What do you think?
Go Trojans!
Dr. C.