LITERATURE AND THE ENNEAGRAM:

APPLYING THE ANCIENT TYPING SYSTEM FOR

NEW PERSPECTIVES ON CLASSIC CHARACTERS

By

Rebekah E. Bell

A thesis submitted to the Faculty of the Graduate Studies Division

Ohio Dominican University

Columbus, Ohio

in partial fulfillment

of the requirements

for the Degree of

MASTER OF ARTS IN ENGLISH

DECEMBER 2018 ii

CERTIFICATION OF APPROVAL

LITERATURE AND THE ENNEAGRAM:

APPLYING THE ANCIENT TYPING SYSTEM FOR

NEW PERSPECTIVES ON CLASSIC CHARACTERS

By

Rebekah E. Bell

iii

CONTENTS

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS ...... iv

INTRODUCTION ...... 1

CHAPTER I: A HISTORY OF THE ENNEAGRAM ...... 5

CHAPTER II: JAY GATSBY AS A THREE ...... 16

CHAPTER III: HUCK FINN AS A SEVEN ...... 23

CHAPTER IV: SCOUT FINCH AS AN EIGHT ...... 29

CHAPTER V: CONCLUSION: TRIADS, STANCES, AND WHY ...... 36 iv

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

I owe so much to Dr. Kelsey Squire. While sitting at a café, pitching my rather unique thesis proposal to her, I prepared myself for her to politely redirect. However, she did not. She did what expert teachers do. She listened, she encouraged, she fostered. She saw a purpose in my passion, and I have never regretted asking her to be my adviser. In the same light, I thank Dr. Martin Brick for his open-mindedness and acceptance of my proposal, as well. The way they both developed graduate courses that possessed rigor and relationships directly impacted my ability to delve into a study possessing both rigor and an emphasis on relationships. Thank you.

Next, I would like to acknowledge my parents and siblings, by birth and marriage. They offered encouragement in many ways during my graduate career. I am indebted to their sacrifice and support, over many years, but specifically in this season of life.

To my students (former and present), my administrators, and coworkers, thank you for your impact on my life. Thank you for teaching me so many life lessons and allowing me to share a passion for literature and life with you all. Our experiences in these novels together are what challenged me to read them in a new way. Thank you.

To Kelly, my dear friend and fellow Enneagram enthusiast—I never would have developed this topic if it was not for you introducing the Enneagram to me. Your desire to grow personally and in your relationships with others is one of life’s greatest gifts. You are all the best things a Seven should be. I am blessed by God to experience life through your enthusiastic, optimistic lens. No matter the storms that come your way, I will always champion your Seven-ness. Thank you.

To my children, the lights of my life, Jase and Nora, you have all my love. While I am proud of the work and effort I placed on this project, nothing compares to the joy and reward I have of being your mother. You are my greatest successes, my favorite “job,” and what motivates me to be the best version of myself. Regardless of who you become or what you will do with your lives, I will always be humbled that God, in His infinite grace, made me your mother. I cannot wait to see how He uses you for His glory.

To my husband, Travis, the strongest Eight I know, thanks does not seem enough. For thirteen years, you have been my companion and my strongest supporter, even when I have not deserved it. You, in all definitions of an Eight, have championed for me and defended me when I allowed doubt to control me. Of all my earthly relationships, ours is the most important to me. Thank you for loving me in all my imperfections and standing by me during this project. No one saw my development of it more than you, so I acknowledge you. When God brought us together, He knew I would need you to make me more like Christ. Thank you for being my “challenger,” my Eight, my love. 1

INTRODUCTION

The Enneagram, while ancient in its roots, has rapidly gained popularity in Western culture since Bolivian lecturer Oscar Ichazo began speaking on it at the Institute for Applied

Psychology in Santiago, Chile (Wagner 2-3). More recently, the it gained interest (and speculation) due to a 2013 CNN report that pulled the Enneagram from the realm of modern psychopathology and labeled it as a “quasi-mystical system rooted in ancient philosophies,” and asked if it really has the ability to “bring enlightenment, efficiency and a better bottom line to organizations” (Fitzsimmons and Killen 5). The Enneagram is not the first attempt at typing people. Hippocrates in the fourth century BCE may have been one of the first people to suggest groupings of personality types according to blood types. Freud, Jung, and other psychoanalysts devoted careers to personality tendencies and the human psyche. Barnes and Nobles across the country are lined with self-help books that explain habits, tendencies, predispositions, personalities, and many other characteristics of humans in order to explain behavior. How can the Enneagram possibly be any different? Or, perhaps more importantly, does the Enneagram even explain human behavior?

While other typings (take the Myers-Briggs Type Indicator, MBTI, for example) focus on an outward expression of character, the Enneagram considers how people inwardly perceive information. The MBTI allows for people to evolve over time and change identifying letters of their personality type due to circumstances and maturation of the individual. One could consider the MBTI and other typing systems as personality masks people put on or take off, but the

Enneagram is not something one can change or evolve—it does not deal with the brain, but the soul. While modern science demands validity, evidence, and questioning for different methods,

Enneagram enthusiasts counter with French physicist Blaise Pascal’s assertion that truth is 2 known not only with reason, but also with the heart. Because the Enneagram focuses on a spiritual element of the human experience, and not just the physical, I decided to challenge familiar interpretations of literary characters through the lens of the Enneagram. Ultimately, it is not my goal to determine if the Enneagram is “scientifically proven.” The Enneagram does not advertise as science or as a behavior chart. It serves to explain how people see the world, how they succeed and struggle in relationships, and how one they achieve spiritual growth.

The Enneagram finds its home between science and spirituality in the category of depth psychology. Depth psychology became a familiar term due to the work of Freud and Jung and is defined by the C.G. Jung Center as “the exploration of the subtle, unconscious, and transpersonal aspects of the human experience” (“What is Depth Psychology?”). The understanding of the

Enneagram as a tool for the human psyche that transcends behavior requires one to define archetypes using depth psychology terms. While archetypes in literature have often been viewed as stock or stereotypical characters, using the Enneagram to analyze characters does not reduce literary greats like Jay Gatsby, Huckleberry Finn, and Scout Finch to stock terms “Hopeless

Romantic,” “The Runaway,” and “Motherless Tomboy,” respectively. Instead, according to depth psychologist Gina Thomas’s definition, “the essence of an archetype [in depth psychology] is an internally coherent pattern, the expression in imagery and behavior is diverse, depending on the culture and person expressing the pattern” (Thomas 60). So even though the Enneagram suggests people follow certain patterns, it doesn’t limit them to those boundaries. The diverse imagery and expression of those boundaries is what makes Gatsby, Finn, and Finch so prolific.

For as Thomas continues, the use of depth psychology archetypes in literature of all cultures

“acts as both container and channel for the individual to perceive, respond to, and experience the typical events and relationships that occur throughout the lifespan” (60). While tradition 3 archetype terms reduce characters to stock level, the Enneagram uses archetypes to enhance value and understanding of people. When a reader begins “to perceive, respond to, and experience” the actions of a literary character, the reader becomes more empathetic. It is not necessarily the reader’s job to prescribe, diagnose, or formulate human behavior as a scientist, but applying the Enneagram allows the reader to connect, identify, and relate to characters in a way he or she may never have before. That is the power art, specifically literature and poetry, has where science fails.

C.S. Lewis in Mere Christianity discusses the purpose of science. He explains how science observes, tests, formulates, and essentially “watches how things behave” (qtd. in

Fitzsimmons and Killen 9). As Lewis continues, he develops the idea that science doesn’t ask ongoing questions of “‘Why is there a universe?’ ‘Why does it go on as it does?’ ‘Has it any meaning?’” (9). That, he explains, is left to journalists and novelists. And that, I would suggest, is what the Enneagram does. In a world inundated with scientific explanations of brain chemicals and explanations of what people do, the Enneagram seeks to explain why people do the things they do with the hope, ultimately, that people can avoid unhealthy responses and pursue growth.

It’s this understanding of the Enneagram that inspired my research topic. As a student with an interest in American literature, I know enough has been written about classic characters like Jay

Gatsby, Huck Finn, and Scout Finch and what they do. Is there power or merit in asking and understanding why the characters do what they do? C.S. Lewis said the novelists ask why. Why would readers not ask, as well? What I am curious about is if reading these familiar characters with a rich understanding of the Enneagram can help us read classic literary characters more deeply. 4

Chapter one provides an overview of the Enneagram and what each of the nine types are.

It will define key terms such as “triad” and “stance,” for the three characters being analyzed are in three separate triads but are also in the same stance. Chapter two focuses on Jay Gatsby from

F. Scott Fitzgerald’s The Great Gatsby as a type Three in the heart triad and aggressive stance.

Chapter three analyzes how Huckleberry Finn from Mark Twain’s The Adventures of

Huckleberry Finn types as a Seven in the mind triad and aggressive stance. Chapter four examines how Jean Louise “Scout” Finch from Harper Lee’s To Kill a Mockingbird types as an

Eight on the Enneagram in the body triad and aggressive stance. Chapter five summarizes how all three characters exhibit different decision making modes from their unique triads, yet how all possess similar qualities residing in the aggressive stance together.

5

CHAPTER ONE

History and Background

The Enneagram is ancient in tradition but modern in its study and application. “Ennea” comes from the Greek word for nine, and “gram” describes something that is written or drawn

(like a telegram). Enneagram scholars trace the origins of the diagram and teachings back to

Mesopotamia, more than four thousand years ago (Chestnut 51). In Ancient Greece, the Temple of Apollo at Delphi holds the inscription, “Know Thyself” (Chestnut 8). For much of the ancient world, there was an understanding that humans had to understand themselves as well as the natural world. Some of the greatest epics of literature, Homer’s The Iliad and The Odyssey as well as Dante’s The Divine Comedy, touch on similar themes of the Enneagram: one must experience a “journey of personal growth toward ‘home’ or the true self,” and “different kinds of

‘sins’”—nine of them, even—will be one’s downfall if one does not make conscious efforts to become aware of them (Chestnut 50-51). However, in the last century, three individuals have been credited with bringing the Enneagram study to its modern application: G. I. Gurdjieff,

Oscar Ichazo, and Claudio Naranjo.

G. I. Gurdjieff taught the Enneagram in Russia and Europe. Born in 1866, he began teaching in 1914 after traveling and studying how people taught the sacred tradition in Asia,

North Africa, Egypt and the Middle East (52). His methods were controversial because

Gurdjieff’s teachings focused on the “chief feature” of the Enneagram from the Sufi tradition, meaning rather than the personality one took at a party where alcohol “loosened the defense mechanisms of his guests,” Gurdjieff would base people’s typings “on their thinking, feeling, or physical reactions to his provocations” (Heuertz 45-46). This is the core of the Enneagram; it is not a personality assessment of how people project themselves to be, it is their essential nature. 6

While Gurdjieff introduced the ancient focus on the chief feature of each type which the modern

Enneagram still does, he did not use the drawn symbol that is prevalent in Enneagram teachings today (45). It was in Chile, in the 1950s that Bolivian-born Oscar Ichazo taught the first program of the Enneagram as people see it today, under the name “Protoanalysis” (Chestnut 53). His

Arica wisdom school (which is the Quechua word for “open door”) developed his teachings with the traditional Enneagram terms used today: Passions, Fixations, Virtues, Holy Ideas, wings, and the symbolism of the lines (Heuertz 46). Ichazo’s Fixations reflect Gurdjieff’s “chief feature,” and laid the groundwork for Ichazo’s student, Claudio Naranjo, to bring his teachings to the

United States in the 1970s (Chestnut 54). Naranjo, an American-trained psychiatrist, worked alongside Fritz Perls, the founder of Gestalt therapy in his hometown of Berkeley, California and paired with A. Hameed Ali of UC Berkeley to share the work of the Enneagram (Chestnut 54,

Heuertz 48).

The Enneagram exploded in the Jesuit community thanks to Naranjo’s former student,

Robert Ochs, who took the Enneagram and its ancient traditions back to Loyola University in

Chicago. The first Enneagram book in the West was written in 1984, and it continues to grow as the CIA has adopted the Enneagram to type world leaders, it has been profiled in major publications such as Forbes and Newsweek, and it is even being used in graduate courses at higher education institutions like Stanford University (Heuertz 48-49).

In its modern form today, thanks to Gurdjieff, Ichazo, and Naranjo, the Enneagram is believed to be more than a personality test. It does not exist to tell people who they are. On the contrary, the Enneagram shows who people are not. Gurdjieff’s focus on the negative “chief feature,” (or, the type’s ego Fixation, as Ichazo coined the term) demonstrates how the

Enneagram focuses on the “part of our ego we are unable to consciously recognize” (52). 7

Therefore, the ego Fixation of each Enneagram number is where humans unknowingly retreat to the worst versions of themselves—destructive patterns, stress habits, addictions, unhealthy coping mechanisms, dysfunctional tendencies, etc. While this may not sound like the most flattering portrayal of one’s self, that is because the Enneagram suggests a person’s number is not who they are but it is the thing that is keeping people from being their true self.

Symbol Explanation

At first glance, the Enneagram symbol appears to be a nine-pointed star and a jumble of confusing lines and numbers (Figure 1). Upon closer observation, one will see that the Enneagram symbol is made up of three specific shapes: a circle, a triangle, and a hexad. According to Beatrice Figure 1- Enneagram Symbol Chestnut, PhD, author of The Complete

Enneagram, the circle (Figure 2) represents “unity, wholeness, and the

natural order of the universe” (45). This is an essential component to the

validity of the Enneagram as a personality theory. Anna Sutton, a senior Figure 2- Unity Circle lecturer in Organizational Behavior at Manchester Metropolitan

University Business School, has three criteria for evaluating personality theories. She says for personality theories to be credible they must be rigorous with clear, testable predictions, they must be useful, and they must have a comprehensive theory (Sutton 3). The circle as a symbol for the Enneagram depicts Chestnut’s claim of unity, and Sutton’s demand for something comprehensive. The Enneagram, then, is universal and uniquely individual in its approach.

The triangle is a historically familiar and powerful symbol, especially an equilateral triangle as is present in the Enneagram. The triangle in the Enneagram symbol represents the 8

Law of Three and appears in many world spiritual teachings. Brahma, Vishnu, and Shiva appear in Hinduism, Christianity has the Holy Trinity, and even Buddha taught of the great trap of life to get caught in the endless cycle of ignorance, craving, and aversion (Chestnut 46). The number three also appears in measures of time (past, present, and future), primary colors (red, blue, Figure 3- Triangle Law of Three and yellow), and stages of life (birth, life, and death) (47). The number three appears in the Enneagram as the square root of the nine types, the three triads where types make their decisions, and finally, each person has essentially three types: a core type and two numbers where a person goes to one number in health and another number in stress, making the triangle a necessary element in the symbol.

Finally, the hexad and the Law of Seven rounds out the

Enneagram symbol (Figure 4). While the circle and triangle represent entire systems (unity and time, for example), the hexad and the Law of

Seven depict what Chestnut calls “a cyclical process of transformation”

(48). The Law of Seven is used to explain several examples of Figure 4- Hexad and the Law of Seven transformation processes that occur on a spectrum such as “light (refracted through seven colors of the rainbow), sound (heard through the seven fundamental tones of an octave), sequence (the seven days of the week forming the basic interval to measure time), and energy (the seven chakras of the body’s energy)” (Heuertz 41-42). An understanding of the Enneagram symbol will help place the literary characters I will be studying (Gatsby, Finn, and Finch) as well as show 9 their relationship to one another. Now that the symbol and location of the numbers have been explained, I will give an overview of the nine types, numbered One through Nine.

Overview of Types

All nine types have a role-name to help distinguish them from one another. Enneagram teachers like Ichazo use these role-names not to reduce numbers to a stereotype, but in order to understand how those tendencies are detrimental to the ego Fixation and Passion that Ichazo identified with each type. Fixations of each type become “mental tactics used to convince an uncentered mind that its Passion is legitimate” (Heuertz 112). When a person is consumed by their Fixation and / or Passion, that is when he or she is most disconnected from his or her true self. A type’s Fixation that becomes a Passion connects to Jung’s depth psychology terms that an

“unconscious potential” can become a “living reality” if unchecked (“What is Depth

Psychology?”). Using the Enneagram to type people (and literary characters) looks beyond the surface to assess what unconscious Fixations become a living reality, a Passion.

TYPE ONE: Ones are called the Perfectionist. Because they see the world as black and white and have a tendency to “avoid fault and blame,” their Passion becomes anger (Cron and

Stabile 25). Ones become angry when people are doing something wrong and their Fixation leads to resentment. Ones live in resentment toward imperfection because they have been led to believe they are only worthy of love if they follow the rules (Chestnut 21). Ultimately, Ones’ basic desire is “to be good, to have integrity,” and they resent others who are not and do not

(Heuertz 111).

TYPE TWO: Twos are called the Helper. They avoid acknowledging their own needs and desires in order “to be loved and needed” by others, therefore allowing their Passion to become pride in the form of self-abnegation (Cron and Stabile 25). Twos become prideful about their 10 service, almost to the point of martyrdom and that sacrifice of their own needs leads to a Fixation of flattery (Chestnut 23). Ultimately, their desire to help and serve becomes about themselves and replaces the need for them to express their own desires. If they do have one desire, though, it is “to feel love,” and so they make others feel loved through service (Heuertz 111).

TYPE THREE: Threes are called the Performer. Threes believe they are only deserving of love if they are “(or appear to be) successful and [if they] avoid failure” (Cron and Stabile 26).

Threes are the most image conscious of the numbers, and this image consciousness creates a

Passion of deceit. While not openly liars, Threes are experts at leading others to believe the best of them, even if it is not entirely true. This Passion creates a Fixation of vanity. Because the

Fixation is what keeps people from their true self, a Fixation of vanity, or the Three’s ability to

“shape-shift into whatever image is the right or most successful image for the context” creates a crippling disconnect (Chestnut 22). Threes’ basic desire is “to feel valuable,” and unfortunately, they have learned to do whatever it takes to feel valued, even if it is an inauthentic version of themselves that other people value (Heuertz 111).

TYPE FOUR: Fours are called the Romantic. While not always romantic in the terms of love, Fours have a deep desire to be understood, and they experience deep, powerful feelings and emotions to “avoid being ordinary” (Cron and Stabile 26). Fours possess a Passion of envy. This envy should not be thought of as jealousy of others but a deep longing for something real and authentic—something more. This Passion of envy leads to a Fixation of melancholy; Fours have a “perception that something good is outside the Four’s experience—and that this something is 11 necessary but missing because of an inner deficiency” (Chestnut 23). In spite of this, Fours’ greatest desire is “to be themselves” (Heuertz 111).

TYPE FIVE: Fives are the Investigator. Fives “avoid relying on others” due to their

“analytical, detached and private” minds (Cron and Stabile 26). They crave information and knowledge, and they use it to conserve their energy and resources. This leads to a Passion of avarice. While Fives are the most reserved and introverted of the types, their Passion of avarice creates a Fixation of stinginess. An essential distinction is the stinginess is “not so much greediness as retentiveness” (Chestnut 25). Fives do not have a desire to acquire more as much as they desire to hold on and steward what they do have in terms of time, space, and resources.

This produces a Five’s basic desire “to be capable and competent,” especially on his or her own

(Heuertz 111).

TYPE SIX: Sixes are the Loyalist. Sixes, once they are on someone’s side, are highly committed and witty teammates. But, they chose their loyalties after assessing “worst-case- scenario” situations and are “motivated by fear and the need for security” (Cron and Stabile 26).

This is why Sixes’ Passion is fear. Logically, their Fixation becomes cowardice. This is not to say Sixes live in a constant state of fear, but they analyze perceived “danger, the sources of which is unknown and unrecognized,” before making a decision (Chestnut 24). However, once they overcome this Fixation, they are closer to their basic desire “to have support and guidance” from someone who has earned their loyalty (Heuertz 111).

TYPE SEVEN: Sevens are called the Enthusiast. Ever the optimists, Sevens find ways to be fun and spontaneous; yet, because they “are motivated by a need to be happy,” they are experts at planning “stimulating experiences to avoid pain” (Cron and Stabile 26). This indulgence in fun and adventure gives Sevens a Passion of gluttony. Sevens are not directly set 12 up for lives as alcoholics or overeaters, but their “passion for pleasure and a desire for more” leads to a Fixation of planning (Chestnut 25). Sevens constantly plan for the next adventure and in doing so, may miss the authentic experience of the present. This is the challenge for a Seven to experience his or her basic desire: “to be satisfied” (Heuertz 111). How is a Seven satisfied when there is more fun to be had? How is a Seven fulfilled in difficult, less-than-fun times? That is when growth occurs.

TYPE EIGHT: Eights are called the Challenger. Eights may be “commanding, intense and confrontational,” but they should not be considered bullies (Cron and Stabile 26). Because

Eights have a Passion of lust that comes from how much they enjoy being in control, their intensity manifests by “confronting others when necessary” and “protecting people they care about” (Chestnut 20). Eights’ Passion for lust, when unchecked, becomes a Fixation on vengeance. No one is better than an Eight at getting revenge when someone takes advantage of another—especially if the victim is less fortunate. Eights have a basic desire “to protect themselves,” and that is why they often take it upon themselves to protect others (Heuertz 111).

TYPE NINE: Nines are called the Peacemaker. Nines avoid conflict at all costs and maintain peace while being “pleasant, laid back and accommodating” (Cron and Stabile 26). Too much avoidance of conflict, however, allows their Passion for sloth to take hold. The Fixation on indolence can be reversed if Nines use “inertia of the will when it comes to tuning in to what is going on internally,” rather than possessing “a resistance to change, and an aversion to effort” 13

(Chestnut 20). Nines cannot achieve their basic desire “to have peace and wholeness” when they

ignore anything that makes them uncomfortable (Heuertz 111).

Triads

Now that the Enneagram symbol and nine types have been

summarized, the circle needs to be broken into three new triads,

sometimes called the intelligence centers (Figure 5). Understanding

the triads of the Enneagram is essential because they “highlight our Figure 5- Intelligence Center Triads primary ways of perceiving the world: through our thoughts, our

emotions, or our instincts—our head, heart, or body” (Heuertz 90). As evident in Figure 5, types

Eight, Nine, and One are in the body center. Often called the instinctive or gut center, people in

the body triad use “an impulse from the motor, or gut, center [to] be a solid guide to right action

(Chestnut 18). Types Two, Three, and Four make decisions that are “rooted in their fluency in

accessing and trusting their emotional impulses” (Heuertz 96). Those in the heart triad have a

great ability to experience and express emotion and it allows them to connect with others through

empathy, since they perceive the world through their own emotions. Finally, types Five, Six, and

Seven reside in the head center. These types “have highly developed mental faculties they use to

assess and address everything in life” (Heuertz 93). What people in the head triad have to be

cognizant of is constant analysis and reasoning “can paralyze” these types if they “get caught up

in overanalyzing a situation” (Chestnut 19). Again, the triad is an essential understanding for this 14 specific study as the highlighted literary characters (Gatsby, Finn, and Finch) each belong to a different triad.

Stances

The final division of the Enneagram numbers to be established is the stances. So far, the types have been defined by what they need or do as well as how they make decisions. The final element—stances—explains how types react in trying times. There are three categories of stances: the Figure 6- Stances withdrawn stance (types Four, Five, and Nine), the compliant stance (types One, Two, and Six), and the aggressive stance (types Three, Seven, and Eight) (Figure 6). In moments of stress or challenge, the withdrawn stance represses its doing center and retreats to think and feel on its own rather than relying on others (Stabile 00:17:41-00:21:13). The compliant stance, however, suppresses the thinking center and relies on doing and feeling. This is not to say they are incapable of thinking during challenges, but it is not their most productive task. This stance gets caught up in its “internal chatter” and this causes them to depend on others in times of stress

(Stabile 00:06:11-00:09:56). The final stance, the aggressive stance, in moments of stress and difficulty, refuses to access its feelings and barrels forward to take action with its thinking and doing centers. While this is the stance that seems fearless and unconquerable, this stance’s reluctance to consider their feelings or the feelings of others in times of difficulty may cause harm to those they love, but they are often unaware (Stabile 00:26:13-00:41:44). In the following chapters, the withdrawn and compliant stances will not be discussed at length, but the aggressive stance will, as all three characters in this study fall in the aggressive stance. They do not run from 15 challenges and they often act with little regard to their feelings or the feelings of others. Often, this has catastrophic consequences for Gatsby, Finn, and Finch.

16

CHAPTER TWO

Jay Gatsby, a Type Three Performer

The great American classic The Great Gatsby begins with an epigraph by Thomas Parke

D’Invilliers. It states:

Then wear the gold hat, if that will move her;

If you can bounce high, bounce for her too,

Till she cry “Lover, gold-hatted, high-bouncing lover,

I must have you!”

D’Invilliers appears as a poet in another work by Fitzgerald, This Side of Paradise, and yet the general editor of the Cambridge Fitzgerald Edition said there is no indication Fitzgerald is the author of the epigraph. However, a recently acquired rare book in Princeton’s collection included two Fitzgerald signatures in a first edition of The Great Gatsby, including the word “myself” next to D’Invilliers’ epigraph (Ferguson). The discovery of the epigraph being Fitzgerald’s own words profoundly impacts a reader’s interpretation of Jay Gatsby as an image-conscious man. He was not a hopeless romantic or simply an ambitious dreamer; he was an intentional man who wore many masks in order to accomplish a goal at any cost, and that is the core of interpreting the Three, the Performer, according to the Enneagram.

Beatrice Chestnut defines the Three as “the person who seeks to create an image of value and success, and to gain the admiration of others, through active efforts in both work and appearance” (311). Early on in the novel, Nick Carraway similarly defines Gatsby by saying, “If personality is an unbroken series of successful gestures, then there was something gorgeous about him” (Fitzgerald 2). Threes are experts of persona and image, and Nick’s first descriptions of Gatsby support the assertion Gatsby strung together his words and actions as a way to 17 highlight his personal worth, appearance of success, and his physical possessions to always appear “gorgeous.” This ability, however, is not to be commended as a gift. Drawing on Carl

Jung’s definition of the “persona,” Chestnut explains how the “persona is our conscious outer social face… to give form to our outward sense of self” (311). The epigraph’s order to “wear the gold hat, if that will move her” causes the hat wearer to be so consumed with the perception of others he does not consider if he wants or needs the hat. Especially in Gatsby’s case, we see this image-seeking mentality and over-identification with a persona causes everyone around Gatsby

(himself included) to be under-identified with who he really is. Not only does Gatsby not experience his lover exclaiming, “I must have you!” as the epigraph promises, but he loses connection to his true self (James Gatz from the Midwest) and ultimately, his life.

Chestnut begins her analysis of the Three with a quote from Nobel prize winner V. S.

Naipul to speak of the Three’s main vice: “The only lies which we are truly punished are those we tell ourselves” (311). It is no secret Gatsby told lies about his background. While his partygoers speculated his history, which included details like killing a man or being a German spy, perhaps his greatest feat was in creating an air of speculation about himself “from those who had found little that it was necessary to whisper about in this world” (Fitzgerald 44). This is something at which Threes excel—disowning “who they really are” and creating “a specific image to get the love (or approval) they need” (Chestnut 315). No matter how many lies surround Gatsby, he seems dedicated to maintaining a different image with Nick, as Gatsby proclaims, “I don’t want you to get a wrong idea of me from all these stories you hear”

(Fitzgerald 65). Gatsby wants an image of honesty to be presented to Nick without actually doing the hard work of being vulnerable and truthful. For almost immediately, Gatsby becomes entangled in his own lie by saying, “I am the son of some wealthy people in the Middle West— 18 all dead now,” which his living father, Mr. Gatz, later disproves by attending his son’s funeral

(65). Gatsby embodies the Three’s vice of deceit even further when he “hurried the phrase

‘educated at Oxford,’ or swallowed it, or choked on it, as thought it had bothered him before,” but it is essential partial truths like this one that Threes rely on to prove their worth to others

(65). Gatsby navigates these waters of duplicity expertly, due to his ability to hold “himself so remote from his character that he can lift up its words and nod at them with a smile that is portable—a facial expression that repeats one which might be found between glossy covers”

(Godden 344). Referring back to Naipaul’s quote, the lies Gatsby tells others about his past are not nearly as damaging, and punishable, as the lie he tells himself: that someone who used to be

James Gatz could ever be with Daisy Buchanan.

In health, Threes’ can adapt to meet the needs of others through empathy, because they are reinforcing their self-image and are competent in their own right. At unhealthy levels however, as with Gatsby, they “begin to deceive themselves and others, saying whatever will impress people… they will concoct any story or scheme in order to cover over their deterioration” (Riso and Hudson 161). Gatsby makes the same error that Threes make, by

“seeing themselves as equal to the image they create, and believing they are what they do”

(Chestnut 316). Gatsby sees himself as an equal with those from the East Egg, even though his new money will never be the same. Gatsby concocts a story of wealth and inheritance to gain their favor and hopes it will cover his humble background, but as Kermit Vanderbilt aptly highlights, Gatsby yearns “after the rarer fruits of civilization—and esthetic quest,” and that esthetic quest could never be obtained with his true self (Vanderbilt 292). No matter what story

Gatsby produces about his past, the fact that “Jay Gatsby of West Egg Long Island, sprang from this Platonic conception of himself,” and that “he invented just the sort of Jay Gatsby that a 19 seventeen-year-old boy would be likely to invent” proves the fault in Gatsby operating as a

Three, believing he is the image he created for himself (Fitzgerald 98). This image does not change the fact that James Gatz was the son of “shiftless and unsuccessful farm people,” even if

“his imagination had never really accepted them as his parents at all” (98). His projected present—wealth, connections, and flare—may be the socially sanctioned definition of success that Threes pursue, but the future he wants with Daisy cannot overcome his past, his true self, which is the challenge Threes face.

In Adam Meehan’s fascinating analysis, “Repetition, Race, and Desire in The Great

Gatsby,” he proposes an assumed Jewish background for the Gatz family causes Gatsby to make sure he is not “praised for what he is, but for what he is not.” He continues to say this reconstruction of his past is not where it stops: “[Gatsby] also wants to repeat the past once he has revised its premises and live out the fantasy that his socially and racially muddled pedigree has prevented. Gatsby’s symbolic transformation from James Gatz to Jay Gatsby has already set his desire in motion before he meets Daisy” (Meehan 80). Chestnut describes this similar behavior in Threes as dangerous because when Threes “live through an image of what they have become in order to be valued—and not their real selves—they often aren’t available for real love and connection” (Chestnut 323). This lie that Gatsby told himself—that he can buy-out his past—made him unavailable to have a genuine relationship with a woman who hardly knew

“what he is,” let alone “what he is not” (Meehan 80).

The epigraph’s ill-advised statements to “wear the gold hat, if that will move her” and “if you can bounce high, bounce for her too,” will produce little results (let alone the promise of

“Lover! … I must have you!”) when Gatsby’s and Daisy’s true selves are compared—not the projected images of them, but who they really are as seen by their voices. Gatsby’s “elaborate 20 formality of speech just missed being absurd,” and he gave “a strong impression that he was picking his words with care” (Fitzgerald 48). Gatsby’s true self is not refined by an embedded sophistication. It is practiced, and it is intentional. Even his body language is constructed. While meeting Daisy at Nick’s house for tea, he had “a strained counterfeit of perfect ease, even of boredom” (86). Gatsby is incapable of expressing his discomfort or lack of refinement and so he

(and Threes) “lie to themselves about who they really are because they so badly need to believe they are whoever they need to be for others to see them in a positive light” (Chestnut 321).

Daisy’s voice, however, is not practiced or fabricated with eloquence. “Her voice is full of money,” Gatsby says (Fitzgerald 120). As Meehan explains, “he employs not a simile but a direct metaphor; her voice is not like money, it is money” (82). If Daisy’s voice were like money,

Gatsby’s money may be able to suffice, but her voice is not similar to money, it is the commodity itself. And it is a commodity of which Gatsby has no equal. It matters not if he wears a gold hat or bounces high; his money is simply something he has evaluated his “audience for the clues [he] used to design the right image” (Chestnut 338). It is not him.

This leads to biggest lie Gatsby tells himself: that he even loves Daisy. As has been mentioned, is Gatsby even capable of loving anyone while so disconnected from his true self?

Chestnut explains the pattern for Threes to grow by stating they must “gain insight into why they work so hard and strive to look so good,” because when they do, “it can help them see how these strategies operate as a protection, but also how they keep Threes trapped in a limited “acorn- self,” even if their acorn shells look really shiny and attractive” (339). It is easy for Gatsby to say he created his image because he loves Daisy. He even professes, “I can’t describe to you how surprised I was to find out I loved her, old sport” (Fitzgerald 150). He does not re-evaluate his image after falling in love with her, though. He did that moments before when Daisy’s number of 21 previous lovers “increased her value in his eyes,” and he realized he was, at the moment, “a penniless young man without a past” (149). As Nick retells their pre-war romance, he explicitly states Gatsby “had certainly taken her under false pretenses… he let her believe that he was a person from much the same stratum as herself” (149). It was not Daisy he loved, and it wasn’t even her “stratum” that he loved—it was the image of himself being from that stratum that he fell in love with. Meehan describes it as, “Daisy is only an object-manifestation of Gatsby’s deeper desire; because it is not Daisy, but a reconstituted version of himself that he seeks,

Gatsby’s dream inevitably fails shortly after he and Daisy reunite” (Meehan 84). This focus on a

“reconstructed version of himself” also appears when Gatsby incredulously cried, “Can’t repeat the past? Why of course you can!” (Fitzgerald 110). If Gatsby had the introspection to assess why he was projecting an image—at any cost—different from his true self, he would have realized it was not for Daisy, but for himself all along.

Fitzgerald ends his masterpiece by comparing Gatsby’s dream to the hopes and aspirations the Dutch sailors had when they arrived at the West Egg. Familiar interpretations suggest the sailors and Gatsby both had, according to Hugh Kenner, “Appearance made Real by sheer will: the oldest American theme of all” (qtd. in Weinstein 24). While disillusionment and the American Dream are classic themes of the novel, evaluating Gatsby in light of the type Three of the Enneagram, one can see Gatsby’s fault was not in pursuing his dream and making it “Real by sheer will;” his fault was, in Enneagram terms, identifying with his projected image more strongly than his true self. Gatsby’s inability to know why he was projecting the image he was allowed him to disconnect, and ultimately lie to himself about who he is and want he wants.

Threes, essentially, “must lie to themselves to keep up their self-esteem and to motivate themselves toward greater achievement” (Riso and Hudson 163). However, as Naipul states, lies 22 to the self are the punishable ones. Gatsby’s lies to himself cost him his life, and people (or fellow Threes) who follow in his footsteps will continue to “beat on, boats against the current, borne back ceaselessly into the past” until they accept their true self and grow.

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CHAPTER THREE

Huckleberry Finn, a Type Seven Enthusiast

Before Huck Finn even utters a word, Mark Twain, “BY ORDER OF THE AUTHOR,” issues a famous warning with his “Notice:” “Persons attempting to find a motive in this narrative will be prosecuted; persons attempting to find a moral in it will be banished; persons attempting to find a plot in it will be shot” (Twain vi). Simply put, Twain is implying the following novel is

“just for fun.” Critics, such as the renowned scholar Sacvan Bercovitch, highlight the fact, however, that as Twain is the master of “deadpan directive, which therefore requires interpretation.” Bercovitch continues explaining how this “Notice” is the beginning of a very humorous piece, for “We’re not allowed to interpret (not even on the most elemental love), but the story Huck tells demands interpretation, demands it unrelentingly and all the time. We can’t get any of its jokes without figuring out motive and plot, and we can’t possibly do that without assuming a moral position” (98). What Twain establishes with his “Notice” and throughout the entire novel with Huck is a typical manifestation of type Seven on the Enneagram—seeking entertainment and avoiding pain. Beatrice Chestnut defines the Seven as “the person who seeks pleasure in different forms as a distraction from the discomfort, darkness, and downside of life”

(135). The obvious danger in operating this way is people can become “avoidant, distracted, irresponsible, and noncommittal” with the serious, uncomfortable challenges in life (137). The author’s “Notice” in The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn, taken verbatim, presents a dangerous approach to a story filled with divisive characters, controversy, and over two hundred occurrences of a painful, racial slur—the word “nigger.” To view this novel as simply “a boy’s book about the happy, innocent times long ago of a barefoot boy in a straw hat and coveralls on the Mississippi River,” is not only inaccurate but dangerous (Johnson 235). As we will see, Huck 24

Finn avoids the pain of his troubled childhood, the discomfort of a developing conscience, manifestation of deep-seeded institutional racism, and the emergence of guilt as a Seven does: seeking the thrills and pleasures of the idyllic Mississippi River instead. Reading the novel in the same way—as a fun adventure book—while overlooking the painful realities the language and setting provide is erroneous, also.

Sevens, at their core “seek refuge in pleasant feelings as a way of evading painful emotions” (Chestnut 136). This is not only a universal human experience, but it is true of nearly every animal, and it is a fundamental principle for survival. The problem with how Sevens approach negative experiences, however, is how they “automatically distance” themselves from the difficult or painful experiences of life (136). Chestnut uses an analogy of an acorn while discussing the Enneagram. She explains how acorns must transform from acorn to oak tree by

“traversing underground territory—allowing defenses to crack open and break down;” this requires humans, then, to “integrate our disowned feelings, blind spots, and Shadow traits so that we can shake off the limiting outer shell of our personality and grow into all that we are meant to be” (39). For Sevens, like Huck, that “underground territory” is uncomfortable, and they are used to “moving and thinking at a fast pace, allowing them to outrun or outwit” those negative feelings (136). What happens when people avoid the dark and difficult moments where transformation occurs? They are unable to grow. What happens when society ignores and represses its darker histories filled with racism and cruelty? It will not transform, either.

Rereading Huck as a Seven, and the novel in a similar light, is essential for readers to face a dark, deep stain in our society’s history. And in doing so, we may even be able to grow in our discourse regarding these challenging topics. 25

While observing this holistic view of the novel before looking at Huck’s specific actions, consider the excessive use of the word “nigger.” Reading it according to Twain’s notice to not

“find a moral” in the word or a tired, blasé excuse of “That was the language of the time,” reflects a Seven’s tendency to “deny, avoid, or otherwise move away when they get a whiff of pain” (171). Kenneth Dauber, in his analysis of realism fiction in “Realistically Speaking:

Authorship in the Late Nineteenth Century and Beyond,” explains how Twain’s experience as a writer working in the tradition of realism serves a similar function. He describes Twain’s

“insistence on describing things accurately, on seeing and hearing,” in a sense, as removing good and evil and attempt to write about life simply as it is (Dauber 384). But, Dauber is correct to assert: “motives and morals are what we stand upon. They are the values according to which we define ourselves, and plot is their articulation” (381). And, without the struggle between good and evil, right or wrong can there even be pleasure or joy that Sevens seek? Avoiding evil and struggle—or, as Twain suggests, not seeking a moral or plot that is propelled by inherent conflict—will always prevent true fulfilment of the happiness, peace, and joy Sevens want.

Similarly, reading The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn without analyzing the “moral” or

“motive” of the word “nigger,” or reading it as word that is obligatory due to the time period without an imbedded struggle, will prevent true racial reconciliation to occur, as well.

Huck Finn, in his pursuit of personal peace, individuality, and freedom, never faces the antithesis to those attributes—racial oppression—head-on. As he debates sending the letter to

Miss Watson announcing the location of the “runaway” slave Jim (whom he has befriended throughout their journey and for whom he has a deep affection), he struggles with the moral dilemma. In what many deem the moral climax of the story, Huck decides to not mail the letter and he accepts, and says to himself, “All right then, I’ll go to hell,” while he tears up the letter 26

(Twain 170). He never openly defies slavery. He never challenges the extortion the Duke and

Dauphin place Jim in. This is because Sevens, like Huck, “tune in primarily to what they want, need, and do in an immediate way” (Chestnut 149). Considering taking on a transformative movement like abolition requires facing the darkness of slavery with direct confrontation; something that is a stark contrast to a Seven’s tendency to search for options that are less combative. John Alberti, in “Race, Identity, and the Teaching of Huckleberry Finn,” asks a similar question regarding the use of the word “nigger”:

Why is Huck unable to relinquish the word… in spite of the supposed growth of their

friendship?... What do the excuses and explanations offered in justification of Twain’s

use of the word, to attempts to control the discussion of how race operates in the novel

and in the classroom, tell us about the investment Huck and his white critics, teachers,

and readers have in the book and in the word, and what implications does such an

analysis have for discussions of race in the classroom? (920)

Why does Huck continue to use the word? Why do people minimize the impact, or even justify the use of the word in the novel? Because confronting the word is hard, uncomfortable work.

Huck may refuse to analyze his usage of the word because Sevens “reframe reality to defend against seeing something real and important that they might label as ‘negative’ because it gives them bad feelings” (Chestnut 149). When Huck decided to “go to hell” for Jim’s sake, he, at that moment, should have re-evaluated everything that was in opposition to that decision, but Sevens employ “positive reframing… to suspend criticality just when a critical eye is most needed. It can be a way of making everything all right and denying a real need to cope with something difficult” (149). That “something difficult,” with Huck’s continued use of the n-word is what enables the continued “construction and maintenance of race and racial oppression in the United 27

States,” according to Alberti (931). Huck did not feel the need to confront his use of the word, and thereby continued the racial oppression Jim (and other black people of the time) experienced because Sevens possess “a ‘maladaptive’ or self-defeating belief in the need to stay positive”

(Chestnut 147). This is dangerous, regarding societal tragedies like racism, because it allows

Sevens (i.e. Huck) to view themselves “as kind to Afro-Americans, thereby focusing on their feeling of being good, decent people, rather than on the feelings of enslaved blacks” (Jones 30).

And so, if we view Huck as a Seven, and we evaluate his decision to “defy” Society and protect

Jim without ever addressing the ugliness of racism and the n-word, we must also ask: does he really transform? In light of the Enneagram, we must answer, “No.”

Huck’s typing as a Seven not only is apparent with his avoidance of negative experiences like racism, but also in his distaste for authority figures. Sevens, as a part of the head triad have a natural fear. Their fear regarding authority, is that rules and stipulations will limit the amount of independence and fun a Seven can possess. Beatrice Chestnut calls this a “soft anti-authoritarian stance,” that causes Sevens to “equalize authority within hierarchies to prevent those below

[Sevens] or above them from controlling them in any way” (144). Huck avoids the Widow

Douglas’ attempts to “sivilize” him (those “above him”), the same way he refuses to listen to

Jim’s concerns about boarding the wreck by telling Jim to “Stick a candle in your pocket; I can’t rest, Jim, till we give her a rummaging” (those “below him”) (Twain 1, 53). While not overtly rebellious (as previously highlighted with Huck’s handlings with racism), Sevens display subtle rebellions by being “anti-conventional,” which allows Sevens to “question authority implicitly without feeling compelled to openly oppose it” (Chestnut 151). Huck’s inability to openly challenge corrupt authority figures (the Duke and Dauphin, Pap, the imprisonment of Jim by the

Phelps family) stems from a desire to not be controlled, personally, while also being unable to 28 confront the harsh reality of evil. Chestnut further describes the behavior as Sevens questioning

“typical ways of doing things without having to abandon conventional behavior completely”

(151). Huck questions, but he does not transform. He inwardly opposes, but he does not outwardly defy. This behavior of a Seven requires a reading of The Adventure of Huckleberry

Finn as what Stacey Margolis critiques as, “an attempt to imagine accountability even in the absence of malice” (331). The authority figures in this novel are corrupt, they are cruel. As is aptly summarized, the book is “one of the most radical and darkly bitter books in the American canon,” due to the portrayal of “churchgoers as hypocritical and their religion as silly; respected community leaders to be cruel and immoral. The most admirable characters in the book habitually lie and steal and loaf” (Johnson 234-5).

And yet, the reader must not view Huck Finn—with his avoidance of pain and his alliance with a “runaway” slave—as a model. His unhealthy coping strategies, according to the language of the Enneagram, prevent him from actually transforming during his journey on the

Mississippi River. Although he was not explicitly cruel (in fact, even feeling deep remorse after the pranks he played on Jim with the rattlesnake and pretending to be sleeping while separated in the fog!), Huck Finn must be viewed as having a “form of impersonal responsibility” with the darker themes of the novel (Margolis 337). Summarized with a perfect overview of Sevens’ behaviors, Jane Smiley asserts, “Huck feels positive toward Jim, and loves him, and thinks of him as a man, then that’s enough. He doesn’t actually have to act in accordance with his feelings” (63). Sevens, Huck, and readers of The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn must not primarily seek superficial, positive experiences alone. For, it is in the wrestling, challenge, and difficulties of darkness that true transformation occurs.

29

CHAPTER FOUR

Jean Louise, “Scout,” Finch, a Type Eight Challenger

Harper Lee begins her American classic, To Kill a Mockingbird, with an epigraph from

Charles Lamb that states, “Lawyers, I suppose, were children once” (Lee ii). One could read this epigraph and surmise its impact is because the adult narrator who is telling the story of her childhood as “Scout” grew up to become a lawyer like her father. It would not be a far stretch, since her brother, Jem, openly admitted to wanting to be a lawyer, and Miss Stephanie Crawford teased Scout about growing up to be a lawyer exclaiming, “Shoot… you’ve already commenced going to court” (Lee 230). In a broader view, however, the epigraph is an interesting conclusion in terms of moral development. Lawyers deal extensively with right and wrong, guilt and innocence, and often they witness or willingly partake in the blurring of those two poles.

Childhood is the formative time when a child’s perception and understanding of right and wrong are developed. Lee’s epigraph, then, could be asserting that people who seem to challenge or defend right and wrong, once were children with little or no exposure to either. Eights on the

Enneagram deal with these terms more than any other number. They seek justice for themselves, those they love, or those being oppressed, and they express truth relentlessly. An Eight “denies weakness and vulnerability by taking refuge in fearlessness, power, and strength” (Chestnut 91).

While not a bully with hulking size or strengths, Eights, rather, can face the storm of injustice and they face that storm with resolve. As it is unknown whether or not Scout grows up to be a lawyer who faces injustices in the courtroom, her childhood is a testament of how she boldly confronted the injustices in her hometown of Maycomb, Alabama, to protect herself, those she loved, and the weak. 30

As all Enneagram types have a childhood manifestation of the Shadow that prevents them from becoming their true self, the childhood pattern of Eights fits Scout perfectly. According to founding directors of the International Enneagram Association Don Richard Riso and Russ

Hudson, “Eights tend to grow up quickly, and survival issues are foremost to them” (291). Scout fits all definitions of growing up quickly by losing her mother at the age of two, reading The

Mobile Register, and “Bills to Be Enacted into Laws, the diaries of Lorenzo Dow” by age six, and facing angry mobs and a drunken attacker by age nine (Lee 18). Beatrice Chestnut also explains Eights are often “the youngest, smallest child” in a family (also true of Scout), and that

Eights “taking on a persona that was bigger and more powerful helped them to deal with a world that did not provide needed love, care, or protection” (Chestnut 96). With one parent dead and another parent dual-serving as the town attorney and a member of the Alabama legislature,

Scout’s “love, care, or protection” was often left to her brother (“who was four years my senior,”

3) and Calpurnia, whose “hand was wide as a bed slat and twice as hard. She was always ordering me out of the kitchen, asking me why I couldn’t behave as Jem when she knew he was older” (6). This expedited childhood causes Eights like Scout to “take justice into their own hands and express power in the name of justice,” for themselves and for underdogs (Chestnut

96). In Lee’s To Kill a Mockingbird, there are plenty of marginalized people for whom Scout develops her thirst for justice such as:

…outlaws in truth (Boo Radley) and in fiction (Dracula). In addition to the Radleys, other

eccentric neighbors who influence their lives, because in varying degrees they skirt

accepted codes of behavior, are Miss Maudie, who is railed at by foot-washing Baptists

for her azaleas, their blooms testimonies to her excessive love of the natural world, and

Mrs. Dubose, an addict of morphine. (Johnson, “The Secret Courts…” 132) 31

Johnson could have included several other examples on her list, such as the honest, hard- working, poor farmers like Walter Cunningham’s family, as Scout defended him and informed

Miss Caroline she was “shamin’ him” when she tried to force a quarter on him when “he had probably never seen three quarters together at the same time in his life” (Lee 20-21). And finally,

Scout’s protection of her friend Dill should certainly not be overlooked. When her cousin Francis mocks Dill calling him “that little runt” who “hasn’t got a home—he just gets passed around from relative to relative,” Scout comes to his defense (82). Scout and Eights do not go out of their way to pick fights, nor do they attack the weak, but they “are willing to confront or fight with others if they need to” and this is reflected in a childhood that exposes Eights to the injustices of the world sooner than other types are (Chestnut 97).

Lee’s storytelling style of an adult reflecting on her childhood is further justification for analyzing Scout as an Eight. Because typings do not change throughout one’s life, the fact that an adult Eight Scout retells stories of a child Eight Scout still highlight a “central concern with justice” throughout her life. The reader sees how as a child and now as an adult, Scout desires “to right wrongs committed by others, and focus on justice and fairness” (Chestnut 106). In her critique of traditional readings of To Kill a Mockingbird, Jennifer Murray discusses the impact of an adult narrator reflecting on her childhood by asserting,

the narrator is able to recount, with the full scope of adult discourse and perspective… In

no way can this summarizing voice be attributed to the child Scout; the narrator therefore

establishes herself as a potential guide to our understanding and interpretation of events

that go beyond the awareness of her childhood self. (78)

This aspect of an adult reflecting on her childhood adds a different level of development (the

Riso-Hudson scale) of an Enneagram number than was observed in the previous two pieces. 32

Gatsby was the lowest of the three, wavering between levels eight and nine of the nine levels of development. Huck was in the average levels going between a five and a six on the scale. Scout, however, possesses attributes of the healthy levels of an Eight, fulfilling level two’s descriptors of being an Eight who is “independent and in control of their lives,” as well as the markers of level three, “taking on challenges, proving strength through action, protecting others and providing for them” (Riso and Hudson 296). Scout’s higher levels of health within her number could be due to a stronger family unit that challenges her to overcome her unhealthy tendencies, or it could be the natural maturation of an adult who, as Murray suggests, has a “full scope of adult discourse and perspective” that is more developed and healthy than the previous examples

(78). Either way, child Scout and adult Scout are defined by actions that naturally protect those

“they care about and feel responsible for” (Chestnut 108).

Scout’s defense of those she loved first began in chapter nine when she fought Cecil

Jacobs in the schoolyard as he defamed Atticus for the upcoming trial. Even though Atticus had requested Scout “hold in” her desire to fight, Scout maintained, “Cecil Jacobs made me forget

[my promise to Atticus]” (Lee 74). Eights, especially children like Scout, “don’t see or know the impact of their strength,” and their immediacy to react can appear hurtful or insensitive to others.

Scout’s healthy levels of being an Eight, however, are cultivated because of Atticus’s leadership in her life. His quiet leadership challenges Scout to “just keep your head high and keep those fists down. No matter what anybody says to you, don’t you let ‘em get your goat. Try fighting with your head for a change” (76). This is invaluable advice for an Eight because “they can believe they are right about everything, or that their opinions are correct interpretations of what is happening, even if they aren’t necessarily seeing all the data completely or accurately”

(Chestnut 109). As a child and an Eight, Scout needs this mentorship in her life so that when 33 difficult times come her way, she can rely on Atticus’s words rather than her own fists. This influence in her life enabled her to take ownership for her actions later in the chapter when she confesses, “I split my knuckle to the bone on [Francis’s] front teeth” after he perpetually harassed her calling Atticus a “nigger lover” (Lee 84). Scout did not punch Francis out of blind rage, but out of injustice. She did not shift blame, and it was only after she received punishment from Uncle Jack that she admitted her true motive, and it sounds like something an Eight would say: “I ain’t very sure what it means, but the way Francis said it—tell you one thing right now,

Uncle Jack, I’ll be—I swear before God if I’ll sit there and let him say somthin’ about Atticus”

(86). As a child in the moment and as an adult reflecting on this moment, Scout’s retelling of the story depicts how she embodies an Eight’s orientation “toward protection and loyalty… and

[expression] of aggression in the service of life and other people” (Chestnut 113).

This ability to confront injustice may make Eights and Scout appear rebellious, but it should not be viewed as an aggressive rebellion. Eights “simply take the position that they are not going to submit to the authority that others might want to have over them. Rather, they see themselves as their own authority and make or break rules as they see fit” (Chestnut 105). One of

Scout’s stronger examples of rebellion was supported by Jem’s decision to disobey Atticus and not leave the jail when the intercepted a mob who had arrived to lynch Tom Robinson. Jem continued to shake his head when ordered to go home. As a “burly man” grabbed Jem by his collar, Scout broke the rules as she saw fit—she “kicked the man swiftly” (Lee 152). Adult Scout reflects on how she had “intended to kick his shin, but aimed too high” (152). She did not intend to rebel against the most important authority figure in her life, and she did not intend to cause extreme physical pain to the recipient of her kick, but she was indignant in her justification of her actions: “Ain’t nobody gonna do Jem that way” (153). Atticus’s final pleas towards Jem to 34 please take the children (Scout and Dill) home, were met with Scout’s final rebellion. She addressed the crowd as individual men, spoke of their children, reminded them of their humanity, and, in effect, dispelled the mob’s murderous intent. She identified her “vengeful feelings” towards those who she thought were hurting Jem, but what she did not realize at the time, is she was simultaneously combatting the injustice being extended towards Tom Robinson as well (Chestnut 106). It is a common conception that Eights operate under a “Fire, ready, aim,” mentality rather than a “Ready, aim, fire,” one. With Scout’s “Fire, ready, aim,” actions with the mob, she was not even aware of the “full meaning of the night’s events” until she was in bed that evening (Lee 156). And while Eights may naturally avoid these moments of vulnerability, it is in these moments where they can reflect and grow.

A final example of Scout protecting the weak is encapsulated in her book-long journey to see Boo Radley. While many critics, including Jan Susina in The Southern Quarterly, assess To

Kill a Mockingbird in terms primarily dealing with race, viewing the book through an

Enneagram lens of an Eight reveals how Scout is not only championing a fight against social injustices, but she is advocating for all the marginalized, including Boo Radley. Susina explains how “the novel sets out to change an attitude toward race, rather than to promote specific laws about race,” but one could easily remove “race” and insert prejudice (65). For as Johnson summarizes in her analysis of To Kill a Mockingbird in law terms, Scout’s final protection of

Boo reveals how “law is proven inadequate for another reason, because on occasion laws must be overridden for justice to be done. Circumstance must override honor; an individual human being’s needs must supercede [sic] principle” (“The Secret Courts…” 139). Boo may not be a victim of racial prejudice, but his life has been subjected to speculation and social prejudice for decades. Her final rebellion of the law in order to protect the weak not only exemplifies the 35 characteristics of an Eight, but also reveals how Scout has changed her “attitude” toward all marginalized, rather than “promoting specific laws” about what is right or wrong (Susina 65).

Challengers, type Eights on the Enneagram, would make great lawyers. But as Harper

Lee’s epigraph from Charles Lamb suggests, even lawyers—defenders or challengers of justice—were children once who developed their understanding of right or wrong. Scout, unfortunately through her experiences in the novel, realizes at a young age that “beneath the surface of the world [she belongs] to and must live in there lies another frightening force that threatens to unsettle it all” (Johnson, “The Secret Courts…” 138). Even if Scout never grew up to face injustices in a courthouse, she grew up seeing them in “the Finch house, the courthouse, the schoolhouse, and the Ewell house” (132). And for type Eights and all readers of To Kill a

Mockingbird who do not acquire careers as lawyers, either, they, too, must “think about themselves as innocent children, as we all understand that all children deserve love, care, and protection—and that all children are naturally innocent,” as Atticus displayed to Scout, while opening themselves to love, care for, and protect the weak in their communities, regardless of race, gender, socioeconomic status, or any other vulnerability (Chestnut 133).

36

CHAPTER FIVE

Conclusion

Enneagram Instinctive Triads

All three literary characters—Jay Gatsby, Huck Finn, and Scout Finch—reside in different instinctive triads. While their types have been discussed individually, I also want to look at all three characters to see how a comprehensive understanding of the Enneagram highlights other unique characteristics about the characters, as well as shared tendencies between all three. As a reminder, the three triads are the instinctive (body), feeling (heart), and thinking

(head) centers. Specifically, the triads “identify a person’s most accessible emotional response or reaction” (Heuertz 91). Since the triads describe how people “habitually take in, process and respond to life,” it is necessary to comparatively assess how Gatsby responds from the feeling center, Finn from the thinking center, and Finch from the instinctive center (Cron and Stabile

27).

Jay Gatsby reflects how the feeling triad is more “concerned with self-image” than any other triad, thereby possessing an “attachment to the false or assumed self of personality” (Riso and Hudson 51). The feeling center is also rooted in shame. Gatsby’s abandonment of his past and a family of which he is ashamed as well as a reckless pursuit of an image he thinks will gain the approval of others is the root of Gatsby’s story. Because Threes are so consumed with feeling valued by the perception of others, they “have trouble recognizing their own or other people’s feelings” (Cron and Stabile 27). As suggested in chapter two, Gatsby does not know the true source of his feelings; he thinks he loves Daisy, but a reading of The Great Gatsby with an

Enneagram lens insinuates Gatsby’s main motivator is not love of Daisy, but a love and desire to coexist in her social strata. Riso and Hudson define this “tragic result” of not knowing their own 37 feelings or the feelings of others as forcing Threes to “never actually see each other or allow

[themselves] to be seen” (55). That is why when Tom Buchanan attempts to reveal Gatsby’s true self as “one of that bunch that hangs around with Meyer Wolfshiem” and a “bootlegger,”

Gatsby’s false personality began to shatter, and his dream became unreachable (Fitzgerald 133-

4). As Gatsby forces Daisy to express her feelings because he assumed that she “never loved

[Tom],” Gatsby refuses to believe any other feelings Daisy may have, even though she explicitly states, “Oh, you want too much!... I love you now—isn’t that enough?” (132). Gatsby’s presence in the feeling center as a Three leads to his obsession with a false image, his inability to identify his own feelings, as well as his tragic misreading of Daisy’s feelings for him as well. And yet, he bases all his decisions on these misguided feelings. Even his determination to take the fall for

Daisy (“but of course I’ll say I was [driving]” 143) proves to be a fatal misstep in allowing his life and his decisions to be controlled by the feeling triad.

Huck Finn, as a resident of the thinking triad, displays how Sevens “experience a lack of support and guidance,” causing them to “carry a great deal of fear” about which they continually think (Riso and Hudson 51). Since all of the decisions in the thinking triad are driven by fear,

Sevens respond to their fear by “forgetting about it” and creating a tendency to “think and plan carefully before they act” (Cron and Stabile 27). Finn’s journey along the Mississippi River and his concurrent inner monologue show how actively his mind thinks and rethinks, plans and re- plans. Whether it is surrounding adventure like boarding a floating house or considering “turning in” Jim to Miss Watson, Finn’s mind never stops. Sevens aggressively pursue entertainment opportunities because of a fear of their inner world. Riso and Hudson describe it as a fear “of being trapped in emotional pain, grief, and especially feelings of anxiety” (58). This is no more evident in Finn’s life than when he is dealing with his developing conscience. At not even the 38 half-way point of the novel, Finn’s endurance for the anxiety that surrounds his guilt begins to wane. He describes his conscience as “stirring me up hotter than ever,” which forces him to tell his conscience, “‘Let up on me—it ain’t too late yet—I’ll paddle ashore at the first light and tell.’

I felt easy, and happy, and light as a feather, right off” (Twain 71). After that moment, he continues to lead with his mind as he re-evaluates his decision to turn in Jim to the slave hunters.

He displays this tendency by saying, “I see it warn’t no use for me to try to learn to do right…

Then I thought a minute, and says to myself, hold on” (73). His thinking center leads to a complete conversation with himself and expresses what Heuertz describes as Sevens’ concern that “their pain will limit their freedoms and so they try to reject it entirely” (94). Huck ultimately rejects the pain that his emerging conscience brings so he “reckoned” he wouldn’t

“bother no more about it, but after this always do whichever come handiest at the time” (Twain

73-4). Finn’s emotional journey has a natural course alongside guilt, fear, and pain, but his physical journey on the river cannot coexist with this, so his commitment to do “whichever come handiest” is the ultimate representation of the thinking center and his development as a Seven on the Enneagram.

As highlighted in chapter four, Scout Finch possesses the instinctive triad’s propensity

“to have problems with aggression and repression,” as she engages in verbal and physical fights with a number of characters in To Kill a Mockingbird (Riso and Hudson 51). It is the natural inclination for those in the instinctive triad to be “driven by anger” that allows them to “express themselves honestly and directly” (Cron and Stabile 27). While the three numbers in the instinctive triad express their anger differently, Eights (as evidenced by Scout) externalize their anger. A key distinction about this anger, however—especially regarding Scout—is how instinctive triad people “are generally more impassioned than emotional, and their great 39 determination is often the source of their pain” (Heuertz 96). Scout’s aggressive actions always stem from a place of passion and an awareness of injustice—not an emotional, baseless reaction.

Scout’s impassioned more than emotional responses can be seen in her reaction to her cousin

Francis’s baiting in chapter nine. She admits how she understood the best reaction to his taunting was similar to “stalking one’s prey” and deemed it “best to take one’s time. Say nothing, and as sure as eggs he will become curious and emerge” (Lee 83). Scout does not quickly respond to

Francis’s inciting comments. She also, however, does not allow her anger to recede. After she delivers a quick punch directly on his teeth, she does not respond emotionally to Francis; justice was served. However, there is a blatantly impassioned response to Uncle Jack’s emotional (and unjust) disciplining of Scout. Without hesitating, she breaks into an outburst that read, “I’ll never speak to you again as long as I live! I hate you an’ despise you an’ hope you die tomorrow!”

(85). While seemingly emotional (and maybe even sophomoric) on the surface, an understanding of the instinctive triad shows her impassioned response is an externalized manifestation of her anger at the injustice of the situation—not emotional anger.

Aggressive Stance in the Enneagram

Gatsby, Finn, and Finch display stark differences regarding their distinct triads and how they perceive the world around them. However, they all belong to the aggressive stance which allows the reader the unique opportunity to assess how similarly these three characters respond in the face of difficulties—and it is not an understatement to say all three characters face immense difficulties. While the other two stances in the Enneagram respond to challenges by withdrawing or relying on others, the aggressive stance members “build up, reinforce, or inflate their ego” and attack (Riso and Hudson 61). The aggressive stances “insist or demand that they get what they want. Their approach is active and direct as they go after what they believe they need,” and yet, 40 this has an interesting parallel to their unique triads as were just described (63). In moments of difficulty, Gatsby asserts himself and demands attention and recognition from Daisy. Finn demands security and knows he will flee the confines of society in order to feel secure on his own terms; he will not stop until he finds it, causing him to make plans to “light out for the

Territory ahead of the rest, because Aunt Sally she’s going to adopt me and sivilize me and I can’t stand it. I been there before” (Twain 232). And finally, Scout Finch demands autonomy on her own terms. She will not wear a pink dress because Aunt Alexandra wants her to. When

Uncle Jack asks her, “You want to grow up to be a lady, don’t you?” she replies, “not particularly” (Lee 79). She does not retreat, or rely on someone else to solve her problems for her; she speaks honestly and directly in order for people know where she stands. All three novels would look vastly different from their current version if any character of the three belonged to a different stance. Gatsby, Finn, and Finch make many errors throughout their stories, but they never allow someone else to make those errors for them.

It is my hope that an understanding of the Enneagram allows readers to go beyond the surface of a reading, the typical analysis of a character’s actions, and gain new meaning and insight as to who these characters really are. The Enneagram exists to help its students overcome instinctive tendencies and experience authentic growth and maturation. When individual people are the best versions of themselves, the world is a consequently better place. Reading classic literature with an understanding of the Enneagram allows the reader to more deeply empathize with its characters. Jay Gatsby is no longer a vapid bootlegger, but a lost man who needed to find the value in his true self. Huck Finn is no longer a carefree adventurer, but a boy who avoided all forms of fear and discomfort, greatly in need of someone to provide security he searched for on his own. Scout Finch is more than a tomboy in the South and becomes a challenger of all 41 forms of injustice that she experienced, unjustly, at a young age. I believe the Enneagram as a personal study and a literary application molds humans to become more self-aware of their own predispositions and more richly authentic in their relationships. In a world that continues to demonize and fracture, I can think of nothing more important than a desire to grow ourselves and our connections to those around us.

42

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