Counterculture Brian Rande Daykin University of Maine - Main

The University of Maine DigitalCommons@UMaine Electronic Theses and Dissertations Fogler Library 2001 Counterculture Brian Rande Daykin University of Maine - Main Follow this and additional works at: http://digitalcommons.library.umaine.edu/etd Part of the English Language and Literature Commons Recommended Citation Daykin, Brian Rande, "Counterculture" (2001). Electronic Theses and Dissertations. 46. http://digitalcommons.library.umaine.edu/etd/46 This Open-Access Thesis is brought to you for free and open access by DigitalCommons@UMaine. It has been accepted for inclusion in Electronic Theses and Dissertations by an authorized administrator of DigitalCommons@UMaine. COUNTERCULTURE BY Brian Rande Daykin B.A. University of Michigan, 1995 ATHESIS Submitted in Partial Fulfillment of the Requirements for the Degree of Master of Arts (in English) The Graduate School The University of Maine May, 2001 Advisory Committee: Elaine Ford, Professor of English, Advisor Welch Everman, Professor of English Naomi Jacobs, Professor of English 0 2001 Rande Daykin All Rights Reserved COUNTERCULTURE By Rande Daykin Thesis Advisor: Elaine Ford An Abstract of the Thesis Presented in Partial Fulfillment of the Requirements for the Degree of Master of Arts (in English) May, 2001 Counterculture is a creative thesis written to earn the degree of Master of Arts at the University of Maine in spring of 2001. The short novel tells the story of Cannister Barnes, a young man who goes to England in the late summer for study and briefly catches a glimpse of a young woman while he’s lost in the winding streets and paths of Eton. His trip is also marred by a dreadful experience in the London Underground, in which he sees an indigent man in a wheelchair roll himself into the path of an oncoming train. Before returning to the States, however, Cannister finds that the man has left behind a little red book, and Cannister claims it as his own. He carries the memory of this trauma, the image of the young woman, and the red book all back with him to America. Back at home, Cannister finds himself being forced to confront problems in his life he’d rather do without-namely, the relationship with his partner, Amelia, seems to be f&g apart. Things are made worse by the fact that instead of taking action to either help or hinder these problems, Cannister would rather read the red book he absconded with back at the Underground. It appears to be a fictional account of shady scientific experiments, strange goings on, and other odd events. Cannister is drawn again and again to the book’s narrative. His life at the University, as well, begins to falter; absorption in the book‘s story Ieads to a few missed classes, to procrastination and un- graded papers. A close friend he made in England comes to visit him and expresses interest in the red book and its meaning. Upon the friend’s departure, Cannister, continuing to read onward, discovers that the book details his own young life, and he finally decides to travel back to England in search of his own history, and in fact, his own humanity. Counterculture explores a number of themes, many of them related to the reality of identity, and what shapes it. Cannister Barnes represents a peculiar icon of a mad society that has lost any sort of hold on what it means to be what we are. His personal search is representative in its commonality, but antithetical in the unique character of Cannister’s past. Dedication For Jack Wilson, who got me to thinking. Preface 1 “Why do you write?” For some reason, this was a very popular question during my first year in graduate school. Colleagues would sit in chairs, either leaning back with their arms crossed (psychologist)or leaning forward, elbows on knees, peering intently into my eyes (interrogator). I’d never been asked the question before, not that I can recall, and while I should admit that certainly these examiners made me think about the issue at hand, I never really did become comfortable with the question. Often, that first ”why” was emphasized, that final diphthong creating an uncomfortable (but dramatic) pause in which I could squirm, knowing full well what was to come next. For clarity: I think it’s a fair question. People involved with the arts tend to be intensely curious about whether or not their fellows share their own particular brand of psychosis. It’s only natural to want to talk about what interests you with people who share those interests. But too often, maybe, the question is asked while expecting some definitive answer, some rational reason that can be boxed into a category and examined against other reasons. Writing is intensely personal: the story that you have to tell is an extension of yourself, even if the work is a complete fantasy. The telling is personal: how one chooses to present the story also speaks to one’s identity, both as a storyteller and as a human being. These are fairly basic observations. I won’t spend time here talking about why I write. I don’t think there’s necessarily one answer or another. iv The question that ought to be asked is, "why did you write this?" That seems to be something we can discuss. There is always a genesis, a process, a craft.. or there should be. Those are things that a writer can tall< about with ease. Those are things that might be illuminating to another. 2 Simply put, Counterculture is a novel about its main character, Cannister Barnes. He recalls at one point in this story that someone once told him that every writer's first novel is autobiographical. That part, I think, is true. But in a sense, everything a writer writes is autobiographical. Certainly a novel's purpose is to say something to someone. UsualIy it's an observation about life. This could be (and has been) argued, I'm sure, but at its heart, the novel is a long story that attempts to set forth some basic truth. We are defined by the boundaries of human and religious strength: Robinson Crusoe. There is loneliness in the terrible chasm between youth and young adulthood: The Catcher in the Rve. Responsibility, and ownership, comes with creation: Frankenstein. These are essential truths about particularly popular works. The beauty of the novel or any story is that as an art that's defined by a readership, the meaning and truth evolves by the interpretation of its audience. If there's an essential truth behind Counterculture, it might be that we're defined by what surrounds us. Cannister is human-regardless of what comes to light by the end of the novel-because the reader objecbfies him as such quite early on. He is presented clearly at the beginning of the novel as the protagonist. Not simply because he is present at the novel's opening, but because of his heroic attempts in the first chapter and his constant, repetitive questioning, "How did I get here?" -which serves both as a nod to the novel's progression as a whole, but also as a connective device that's universal V in its commonaIity. We all want to know our own answers to Cannister’s question. Whatever happens in the book, the first quarter demands that the reader place Cannister inside certain boundaries. He tries to save a life, so he’s human. He is capable of great, passionate love, without reason or sense: he is human. He is deeply flawed (he sleeps with the gypsy woman only to deny it consistently later on, even to himself): he is human. The other aspects of Cannister’s humanity are defined by the idea that that very humanity is called into question. The reader will notice that those things that society uses to define humanity most often -whether erroneously or not -are the foggiest issues in the book. Religion, sexuality, and social class are all issues that become murky as they pertain to Cannister Barnes. Perhaps what causes these issues to remain unresolved is the not-so-gentle insistence by the author that these are unreasonable qualifiers to define human behavior. And of course, by novel’s end, the reader finds that a similar anomaly has been staring her in the face all the while: that Cannister is not, in fact, “human.” Let’s get back to that in a moment. Cannister, we find, is obsessed with time. Why? For one thing, the novel takes place at the turn of the century. For another, cannister is a being outside of time for most of the book. The fantasy world in which he finds himself when he discovers the girl with the summerstorm eyes, is oddly anachronistic. He bumps into The Bard himseIf whiIe walking down its streets. In Part 11, Cannister spends most of his time either daydreaming or lost in the world of the journal, which effectively takes him buck in time. His relationship is falling apart, but this does not seem to be a driving force in the middle half of the novel. There does, in fact, seem to be no driving force at all in the middle of the novel. The section is motivated purely by two dramatic devices: the “will hewon’t he” question (if it’s ever really a question) of whether Cannister will leave Amelia or stay, and the ”did she-didn’t she” question of Amelia’s affair with Ted. The women inside vi Cannister’s world are what define that world. The four female characters in the novel (not including Mrs.

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