The Unforgiving Margin in the Fiction of Christopher Isherwood Paul Michael McNeil Submitted in partial fulfillment of the requirements for the degree of Doctor of Philosophy in the Graduate School of Arts and Sciences COLUMBIA UNIVERSITY 2011 Copyright 2011 Paul Michael McNeil All rights reserved ABSTRACT The Unforgiving Margin in the Fiction of Christopher Isherwood Paul Michael McNeil Rebellion and repudiation of the mainstream recur as motifs throughout Christopher Isherwood‟s novels and life, dating back to his early experience of the death of his father and continuing through to the end of his own life with his vituperative rant against the heterosexual majority. Threatened by the accepted, by the traditional, by the past, Isherwood and his characters escape to the margin, hoping to find there people who share alternative values and ways of living that might ultimately prove more meaningful and enlightened than those they leave behind in the mainstream. In so doing, they both discover that the margin is a complicated place that is more often menacing than redemptive. Consistently, Isherwood‟s fiction looks at margins and the impulse to flee from the mainstream in search of a marginal alternative. On the one hand, these alternative spaces are thought to be redemptive, thought to liberate and nourish. Isherwood reveals that they do neither. To explore this theme, the dissertation focuses on three novels, The Berlin Stories (The Last of Mr. Norris and Goodbye to Berlin), A Meeting by the River, and A Single Man, because ach of these novels corresponds to marginal journeys of Isherwood— namely, his sexual and creative exile in Berlin from 1929 to 1933, his embrace of Hindu philosophy, and his life as a homosexual. Each of these novels positions characters outside of the mainstream in order to subvert a redemptive message and depict the margin as a very dark and dangerous place. Chapter 1 focuses on the period from 1929 to 1933 when Isherwood lived in Berlin and on the collection entitled The Berlin Stories, which includes The Last of Mr. Norris and Goodbye to Berlin. That fiction tells of the variegated landscape that was Weimar Berlin. In that landscape, Isherwood discovers and examines others who, like himself, seek alternatives to the mainstream: the bohemian Sally Bowles, the Landaurer family, who as Jews fear the rising Nazi tide, and the politically ambiguous Mr. Norris. His portraits of these people and the world they inhabit expose not only the darkest corners of mainstream Berlin, but also the futility of attempts to flee from the mainstream to more satisfying alternatives. Chapters 2 and 3 are devoted to Vedanta, one of the six schools of Hindu thought that would become central to Isherwood‟s life from July of 1939 until he died in 1986 and that is at the heart of Isherwood‟s final novel, A Meeting by the River (1967). In that work the margin and the mainstream are juxtaposed throughout. Rhetorically, the novel is rich and clearly one of Isherwood‟s finest. One approach to the novel emphasizes the redemptive power of the margin. The monastic life and all that it entails spiritually free one from the burdens of the material world. A compatible approach to the novel emphasizes the power of self-discovery as a bonding agent between the brothers. I argue for an alternative reading of the novel, one that emphasizes Patrick‟s journey and the implicit peril of the moral relativism endorsed by Vedanta. Patrick is nothing more than a con artist. And finally, Chapter 4 examines Isherwood‟s finest novel, A Single Man, the story of George, who is left alone after the death of his lover, Jim. Isherwood‟s homosexuality asserts itself both covertly and overtly throughout the novels, though today many of the positions reveal themselves as nascent attempts to understand sexual identity in personal, social, and political terms. A Single Man is Isherwood‟s most sophisticated and probing look at what it means to be a homosexual. The militantly political is ever present. And yet, the novel is in many ways a contemplative piece, one of stunning beauty that grows out of the simple fact that George‟s lover of many years has died. In reflecting on the cottage where they lived, George reminisces early on that “they loved it because you could only get to it by the bridge across the creek; the surrounding trees and the steep bushy cliff behind shut it in like a house in a forest clearing. „As good as being on our own island,‟ George said.”1 In essence, George and Jim cut themselves off from the world. They live unto each other and in a community of like-minded people. Together on the margin, they are content and fulfilled. And yet, when Jim dies, George is abandoned and adrift. He is deprived of mainstream consolation—public memorials, spousal recognition, and children—and deserted; he is a sobering portrait of isolation and despair. 1 Isherwood, A Single Man, 20. CONTENTS Acknowledgments pp. ii–iv Dedication pp. v Introduction pp. 1–11 Chapter 1 pp. 12–80 Chapter 2 pp. 81–133 Chapter 3 pp. 134–197 Chapter 4 pp. 198–218 Conclusion pp. 219–229 Bibliography pp. 230–236 Appendix I pp. 237–256 i Acknowledgments I begin by thanking Edward Mendelson, who has been enthusiastically supportive from the start and who continues to inspire me with his wisdom, knowledge, and abiding belief in the power of the text. I am equally indebted to the members of my committee, each of whom challenged in order to illuminate and bolstered in order to encourage. To Peter Awn, Robert Klitzman, Victoria Rosner and Margaret Vandenberg I am eternally grateful. The work of Katherine Bucknell, who is without peer in the world of Isherwood scholarship, was indispensable to my work here. Having known Dr. Bucknell many years ago when we were young graduate students, I feel comfortable when I say, “thanks, Kate.” Don Bachardy has been generous with his time and knowledge, providing me with access to his personal relationship with Isherwood and breathing life into a world I could otherwise have known only second hand. In preparing the manuscript for submission, Joyce Ippolito was indispensable. Thank you, Joyce, for understanding the personal dimension to the work at hand. At Vassar College, my advisor and teacher Paula Kopacz modeled for me what it means to be a meticulous scholar, a gifted teacher, and a true friend. My life is rich in so many ways because of her enduring presence. Over the years, many Columbians have enlightened and encouraged. I will never forget or be able to adequately acknowledge the support of Jan Allen, Karen Blank, Laura Brown, Mary Cargill, Claire Carroll, Ward Dennis, Ann Douglas, Kathy Eden, Alice Fredman, Robert Furno, Karen Green, Jean ii Howard, David Kastan. Steven Marcus, James Mirollo, Frank Moretti, Catherine Nepomnyashchy, Henry Pinkham, Joseph Ridgley, Richard Sacks, Carol Slade, and Martha K. Zebrowski. I thank Jack and Cecily Salzman who were not only with me on two of the worst days in my life, but who inspired me early and have remained ever constant. My family at the School of Continuing Education has been a source of enduring support in this and many other projects. Thank you, Dean Kristine Billmyer, and all of my colleagues at SCE for the gift of time, patience, and understanding. In a world of her own, I thank Joy Hayton, Departmental Administrator in English for over thirty years; her prodding was persistent, but tempered by her unwavering faith that I would finish and prevail. The love of true friendship fills my life on a daily basis. Manuel Hurtado makes Spain ever-present. Dennis Green delights with wit and whim. Ed Campanelli is quick to chat and distract. Darlene Giraitis is my companion in seafood and wine. And, Lisa Yakas is the older sister I always wanted. You all nourish my soul with food, song, solace and laughter. My “out-laws,” Marina and Peter Johnson, have embraced me as one of their own for the past twenty-one years. Perhaps one day, if the government allows, they will become my in-laws. I would be honored My mother and father, Rose and Daniel McNeil, along with my brothers and sisters have stood by my side throughout life, protecting me from a world that shuns difference. In their embrace I was safe and able to become who I am today. iii And finally, I am most thankful for every day that I spend with Soterios Johnson. In the words of W. H. Auden, he is “my North, my South, my East, my West/My working week and my Sunday rest.” iv DEDICATION To Rose and Daniel McNeil who first taught me to take baby steps And To Soterios Johnson who has held my hand while taking them v 1 INTRODUCTION My preoccupation with the margin maps back to adolescence, when at the hands of a bully I discovered that most boys didn‘t like boys the way that I did. Early identification as a gay boy involved my locating places where I would be safe: the school orchestra, the marching band, the theater, the choir. Because these spaces required special talents not universally shared, they were separate and apart from the mainstream. For boys like me and for others, they were safe spaces where we were protected from the brute force of the majority. And so began my lifelong journey to the margin, which took me first to Vassar College in Poughkeepsie and ultimately to Columbia University in the City of New York. In both places, I was certain I would find communities filled with people like me, communities that would not only protect, but also nourish.