현대영어영문학 제60권 2호 Modern Studies in English Language & Literature (2016년 5월) 273-88 http://dx.doi.org/10.17754/MESK.60.2.273

The Chronicles and Re-imagining the Frontier Myth

Yoo, Jihun (Georgia Southern University)

Yoo, Jihun. “The Martian Chronicles and Re-imaging the Frontier Myth.” Modern Studies in English Language & Literature. 60.2 (2016): 273-88. The exploration of has always been the major thematic concern for fiction. The Martian Chronicles delineates the process of human colonization of Martian landscape and establishes itself as a mainstream speculative fiction. It is difficult not to ignore how the recalls the imagery associated with the historical aspects in American history—especially, the early Western expansion and the frontier experience. This paper not only explores the ways in which the novel engages with the frontier myth but also investigate the issues regarding the underlying attitudes of the frontier consciousness. Relying on David Mogen's and Richard Slokin’s inquiries on the frontier mythology, in this paper, I suggest that The Martian Chronicles not only enacts the frontier myth but also maintains its traditional position within a thinly veiled conventions of speculative that ultimately re-imagines the frontier myth. (Georgia Southern University)

Key Words: frontier myth, Mars, colonization, science fiction

I. Introduction

In dealing with American science fiction and delineating its connection with the frontier story, Carl Abbott notes that the genre “lies at an intersection where the imperial romance or adventure story meets the American Western” and “extends the western openness to infinity” (12). In a similar way, Dianne Newell pointed out that the “links between the frontiers of science fiction and those of American myth and history” (50) are established. Therefore it is not unsurprising to find research that 274 Yoo, Jihun interrogates the correlation between (speculative) interplanetary frontiers, American history and myth of the traditional Western frontiers. Carl Abbott is one of the scholars that traces the frontier tradition onto the extraterrestrial frontiers of space in American fiction. Similarly to Newell’s above observation, Abbott explains that the reason behind science fiction’s repeated internalizing of the stories that Americans tell about the development of the West is because “the imagery and mythology of the western frontier" (243) are so pervasive in American culture. If both Newell and Abbott are correct—if post-WWII space frontier fiction was and is deeply “embedded in frontier myth” (Newell 50), then it is logical to read The Martian Chronicles within the frontier tradition. Thus, relying on Newell’s and Abbott’s hint, but, at the same time, diverging from their generic formula, I suggest that the novel not only reenacts the frontier myth but also by doing so paradoxically collaborates in perpetuating the myth’s position by re-imagining the frontier myth. Implicit in the myth, however, are ideas that promote the dominant ideological pattern of American imperialism: the colonization (or industrialization) of Martian landscape, subjugation and elimination of , and perpetuation of imperialism in new frontiers.

II. The Martian Landscape and the Frontier Paradigm

The idea of Mars is more complicated then a mere correspondence to observational reality of Mars. It rather serves to unveil mythological and ideological pattern of America surrounding its conception. The Martian Chronicles should be analyzed to consider the mythological, mythical and folkloric elements encoded in the chronicles of Martian colonization. The Martian Chronicles and Re-imagining the Frontier Myth 275

According to Frederick Turner, the frontier is the “meeting point between savagery and civilization,” (2) as Mars in The Martian Chronicles was a landscape where the savagery of Martians is met with civilized Earthmen. Just as Indians were viewed as savage beasts for Turner, Martians were treated as savage beasts in Mars. For Turner, words like “civilization” (2) and “custom” (9) are metaphors for the Old World whereas “savagery” (3) and “primitive wilderness” (3) stand in for the New World. Similarly, the novel positions human beings as representing order, morality and common-sense, whereas it posits Martians as representing savagery, immorality and irrationality. Investigating the frontier paradigm within the American literary tradition, David Mogen defines the frontier myth in terms of the opposition between civilization and frontier (25). In the frontier tradition the New World is considered “unknown, exotic, uncultivated, and peopled by . . . savages” (Slotkin 29)—an illustration analogous to what the Martians represents in The Martian Chronicles. In the frontier tradition the Old World is considered a “civiliz[ed] society ordered on rigid principles” (Slotkin 51)—an illustration corresponding to what human civilization symbolizes in the novel. Faithful to its own title, The Martian Chronicles, chronicles the , and this colonization and industrialization process becomes synonymous with distinctive group of settlers’ view and treatment of the Martian frontier. While, in general, the Martian frontier is considered a metaphor for the “New World Garden” the novel displays a variety of characters to illustrate how ideas about the Martian frontier differed. Obviously, the Martian landscape parallels the Western landscape of the frontier in urging settlers to seek new opportunities as a gateway of escape. Indeed, for Turner, the Western frontier did “furnish a new field of opportunity, a gate of escape from the bondage of the past; and freshness, and confidence” (26). The association between Turner’s frontier and the 276 Yoo, Jihun novel’s treatment of the Martian frontier becomes obvious if we consider the scene where Janice’s and Leonora’s imminent journey to Mars in the year 2034 recalls the frontier experience in 1849: where “ventriloquists, preachers, fortune-tellers, fools, scholars, gamblers” with “their dreams” (147) journey to a “New World” (150)—Mars. As they walk the streets of their hometown, they cannot help but to think that their and other people’s immigration to Mars is inexplicably a cyclical moment of history that “in their time the smell of buffalo, and in [her] time the smell of ” (159): are all about the frontier, whether Western or Martian. A small chapter titled “The Settlers” is evidenced to manifest this idea. That just as the American continent was considered to be the “New World Garden” for early settlers, Mars is viewed and treated much the same suggests the perpetuation of the images of the Garden projected into the new frontier landscape (in our case, Mars). To elucidate, just as westward expansion with its new opportunities furnished perennial rebirth of American life (Turner 2), interplanetary expansion to, and colonization of, Mars, as the New World Garden, is thought to provide these frontiersman with material and spiritual revitalization. In a similar fashion, Wayne L. Johnson recognizes the novel’s sporadic “touches reminiscent of classical mythology—golden fruits, fluted pillars, wine trees” (113) of Martian landscape before its colonization and industrialization by Earthmen. This observation is seconded by Carl Abbott as he points out that the novel features a character who “reenact[s] the story of John Chapman” (82), (a.k.a. Johnny ) settling “the imagined planets of science fiction” by an “entry into the homesteading theme in science fiction” (84). It is through the eyes and efforts of Benjamin Driscoll, a kind of like Johnny Appleseed figure—an early American pioneer man who introduced apple trees to the American soil—in planting “trees and grass” (103) that the Martian terrain is transformed from an arid “land of black loam” (103). The Martian Chronicles and Re-imagining the Frontier Myth 277

While this seems to be reversing Turner’s idea of social progress and evolution which transforms primitive industrial society . . . [in]to manufacturing civilization” (2) since Driscoll manages to build a horticultural landscape instead of industrialized towns and cities, nevertheless here, Driscoll’s “seeds and sprouts” (104) functions as an “European germs developing in an American environment” (Turner 3) that would ultimately transform the wilderness into a “manufacturing civilization” (Turner 2). Ironically, while Driscoll’s seeds and sprouts, in a single day, flourish and become a full forest to produce pure oxygen turning a valley into a river delta (106), the forest, nevertheless, serves as an infrastructure that paves the way for industrialization and colonization of Mars. Not surprisingly, readers are provided with a repetition of images recalling the American industrial development history in the next chapter titled “The Locusts.” Like locusts, migrating, swarming and devouring everything in their path in Biblical proportions men “men hammered up framed cottages . . . with sizzling neon tubes and yellow electric bulbs” (107). One cannot help noticing how this passage recalls Turner’s description of waves of emigrants who “purchase the lands, add field to field, clear out the roads . . . build mills, school-houses, court-houses” (Turner 15).

III. The Colonization of the Other

However the theme of justifying the colonization of the Other (the Martian landscape and Martians themselves) is achieved through the imperialistic portrayal of the Martians as the savage and monstrous Other. Investigating the theme of the Other in The Martian Chronicles, Noel M. Valis argues that the novel posits “the viewing of the Other as an element 278 Yoo, Jihun of one’s own being and identity” (52). While Valis, at a certain level, is correct in indicating episodes where the “identification of the Other with the I” (53) is elaborated, he misunderstands this as a generic form rather than an anomaly and thus ignores how the contrast between the Self and Other, in short, the ontological and physiological demarcation between humans and Martians, rather, serves as a justification for colonizing the Other (Martians). Even if Valis’ claim that Bradbury is implying that we humans are, and have always been Martians (57) is correct, it is difficult to explain the colonization of the Martian landscape and Martians. Therefore, the fact that we are again and again presented with this contrast between them conversely provides evidence to consider this as a prerequisite for the colonization of Mars. “The Third Expedition” illustrates the gruesome grotesque and savagery of the Martians, who in the eyes of captain Black and humans on Mars, in general, defy common sense, rationality and logic—as do the Native Americans, in the frontier myth. While the following scene seems to confirm Valis’s claim that this is a “realization of the One becoming the Other” (56) between humans and the Martians, this scene, on the contrary, validates that the demarcation between them—Martians can transform into other beings and shapes whereas humans can’t—suggests that Martians are viewed as “Monsters” or “terrible thing[s]” (64) not unlike Turner’s view of the European Other (Native Americans) as serpents and wolves— metamorphosing creatures that are thought to be associated with myth, , savagery and chaos. Upon the third expedition to Mars, Captain John Black and crew members including Navigator Lustig and archaeologist Samuel Hinkson arrive on Mars to find that they have landed on a small town. Black, initially unable to explain how this Martian landscape has come to look exactly like his home town, let alone is populated by people who have died on earth long ago, surmises that these people (who The Martian Chronicles and Re-imagining the Frontier Myth 279 look like his long dead family) might be hostile Martians with telepathic and hypnotic abilities. Not surprisingly, just as Black predicted in his thoughts, this is what exactly happens—as his brother (really a Martian) “change[s] form, melt[s], shift[s], and become[s] another thing, a terrible thing, a Martian” (64). That what terrifies Black is less the Martians’ supra human ability to kill their enemies by using telepathy and hypnosis but more their natural ability to “change form, melt, shift and become a terrible thing” (64) seems more interesting here, considering the terrors of the settlers towards the Native Americans, as their enemies (Turner 30), who act like shrewd “serpents” and “wolves” (Turner 32). In addition, another scene epitomizes similar anxiety of the explorers towards the savage-irrational Other (Martians) as the whole town mourns/celebrates the death of all sixteen crew members who were killed the night before. While Jorg Hienger explains the above scene as a moment of the science fiction uncanny (in the Freudian sense) since it “completely disposes of rationality” (149) by "preservation of an illusion, the victims of which have already all been murdered” (149), this scene, alternately, serves to illustrate the irrationality, and in turn, to justify the colonization of the Martians who seem to be celebrating (and maintaining a pretense of mourning) the death of these explorers by engaging in the funeral procession, more like a carnival, with the brass band playing “Columbia, the Gem of the Ocean” (65). On a similar note, George R. Guffey seconds Hienger’s diagnosis of the above scene as a kind of Jungian “fantasy thinking,” arguing that Bradbury, as its “determined practitioner” (149), like many fantasy and science fiction writers, admits to a significant amount of daydreaming (150) that involves “wish fulfillments” (151). While it is true that particularly in “Third Expedition,” Martians transform into human figures (beloved families) to these explorers and the Martian landscape transfigures into “Green Bluff, Illinois” (51) closer examination reveals that 280 Yoo, Jihun these transfigurations are not “daydreams which derive much of their power from mythic transformations” (152) as Guffey claimed, because these metamorphoses are, simultaneously, nightmarish and grotesque permeated with innocence/deception, savagery and violence as they transmogrified “into something else” (65), “a terrible thing” (64).

IV. The Frontiersman in Martian Frontier

With the Martians illustrated as cunning hostile savages intending to surreptitiously eliminate humans, the justification for colonizing the Martian landscape and Martians become nothing more than getting rid of the evils of the world/Mars (so they thought), just as the majority of sections in The Martian Chronicles actually deal with the colonization, civilization and exorcism process of Mars. In the novel, the imagery of industrial and colonial development crystalizes in one chapter titled “The Off Season.” Just as Edward J. Gallagher recognizes this chapter as a “story which dynamically couples commercialism with destruction of earth and Mars” (75), he rightfully sees the main character of this chapter, Sam Parkhill, to be a “product of the mainstream of American materialism” (75). Gallagher seems unaware that American materialism and its principles belong to a part of the frontier consciousness that readily views the destruction of the Other as an evolutionary process for the re-generation of the Self through violence. Richard Slotkin has insightfully delineated this frontier consciousness—inevitably accompanying violence—as an essential part of the American myth (Slotkin 557). Slotkin’s above analysis not only captures Turner’s formation of the frontiersmen as “the men of capital and enterprise” (Turner 15), “seeking its own place and finding play for its own powers and for its own original The Martian Chronicles and Re-imagining the Frontier Myth 281 initiative” (Turner 192) but also rightfully indicts Parkhill’s view of the world. As Parkhill sweeps the Martian sands where he recently purchased and opened Sam’s Hot Dog Stand on the main highway thought to attract miners and new emigrants from Earth, he is visited by a group of Martians reclusively living in the hills. Parkhill here lay claims to the ownership of this property based on three principles: first, he bought/built it with his own hands (self-reliance); second, the old ways, without leaders and law, must yield to the new (evolutionary point of view); finally, he has a gun (violence). Just as Turner’s frontiersmen laid claims to Native American land and property through these principles, Parkhill is without qualms in justifying his ownership of this land by ultimately using violence, in this case, to kill off these Martians, as well as destroying the old abandoned Martian city that to him, seems threatening. Parkhill is desperate because his ownership is forcibly contested by Martian history where even Parkhill’s currently-owned ship is, in fact, was Martian-made. Thus, in order to refute Martian claim for the ship and property, Parkhill resorts to the only recourse that he is able to acknowledge: violence. Unable to rid himself of the of history (regarding the ownership of the property), in other words, Parkhill kills these Martians that dissolve “in a shower of ancient glass” (210), in a desperate attempt to flee the other chasing Martians. Thus, he precisely epitomizes the point of view of the frontier consciousness in which the old, ancient, devolved and evanescent aliens perishes into oblivion paving the way for the new, self-reliant, evolved (superior) and violent characteristics of men. In “The Fire Balloons,” Father Joseph Peregrine and Father Stone, for the most part, express another aspect of the frontier consciousness, the so-called the “civilizing mission.” Just as the Western frontier “furnished a new field of opportunity” (Turner 26) for taking advantage of its seemingly unlimited source of free land, these Fathers considered their expedition to Mars as 282 Yoo, Jihun

“Manifest Destiny” (Turner 137, my capitalization) which allows them to take this new opportunity (with new land, and new sins) to “prepare the Martians for the reception of His truth” (123). Turner forthrightly takes the concept of Manifest Destiny into his thesis as he argues for the social evolution in the American frontier: it “goes on to tell of the disintegration of savagery” (9) that culminates in the wilderness being “interpenetrated by lines of civilization” (11). Similarly to Turner, Father Peregrine is adamant in repudiating his faith in manifest destiny to convert these lawless, sinful un-human Martians—“to find their own special ways of sinning” (137)—as he realizes that these remaining Martians, too, like the Indians, ought to be interpenetrated by lines of spiritual civilization. During their conversation, Father Stone tells Father Peregrine the Bishop’s words: “Sins ha[ve] collected [in Mars] like bric-a-brac” (123) and it now their mission to cleanse people’s (humans and Martians alike) “hidden sin[s]” (124) because it is a “frontier now, like in the old days on Earth” (125). As Father Peregrine recognizes the “frontier town with raw, fresh-built sin” (126), he also assumes that the second race of Martians, like humans, need “to discover God” (137). This second type of Martians, even without material bodies to commit corporal sins, about whom Father Peregrine becomes obsessive in his efforts to save them, further elicit his relentless adherence to the Puritan heritage known as the “Manifest Destiny.” However, unlike Father Peregrine’s arguments above, towards the end of this section, it becomes obvious that his civilizing mission is impure. Ruminating upon the possibilities of proselytizing to these Martians, Father Peregrine confesses that the Martians need saving from God. What is interesting about Father Peregrine’s thought in this scene is his view on Martian soil as the arena for achieving his Manifest Destiny, in other words, to civilize and proselytize the Martians—a view that can be found common in Turner’s essay. The Martian Chronicles and Re-imagining the Frontier Myth 283

If Turner’s conception of the Other (the Native Americans) that antagonize with his idea of the Self (European settlers) is indicative of the subaltern, then it becomes possible to logically infer the position of the Martians in this novel, which paradoxically submit to the desire of the Self (humans). Much like Spivak’s subaltern, “whose identity is its difference” (Spivak 272), trapped between the real and illusion, and at the same time, encased within the colonizer’s desire for differentiation, these last remaining Martians are non-humans. Feeding off of the desires and hopes of human beings, the remaining Martians—“the small last race of people remaining on this world” (189)—in “The Martian” episode recall the subaltern in a colonized third world. On a similar note, Wayne L. Johnson positions the Martians against the desires of humans by stating that these Martians become “metaphors for our dreams” (117). With the (unwilling) ability to metamorphosis into human forms caused by projecting human desires onto their bodies, these dependent Martians are the representation of the subaltern who is violently caught between the ontological conception of her own identity and the reconstructed idea of her identity enforced by the colonizers (humans). Prior to the culmination of people’s struggle to possess Tom (the shape shifting Martian) by projecting their desires onto him which led to his death, this Martian (which came in the form of Tom) likewise becomes a subject of colonizer’s desire. This is why Tom/Lavina/Martian tells old Lafarge that human desires “are too strong . . . it’s like being imprisoned. I can’t change myself back” (194). Indeed, the above scene is clearly understandable because the colonizer’s desire to define and situate the subaltern is too strong for the latter to resist or even deny, the latter, therefore, is susceptible to the former’s imperialistic gaze and desire and thus becomes “imprisoned” and unable to “change back” to what was once used to be. Ironically, for humans, these transfiguring Martians function as a 284 Yoo, Jihun desideratum, a delusional fetish, an “ideal shaped by their minds” (194). In this episode, Tom/Lavina/Martian’s subjectivity becomes a palimpsest of humans’ desire as humans see Tom/Lavinia/Martian as an “ideal shaped by their minds” (194). Pulled by people who claim this fleeing Martian to be their Tom, Lavinia, criminal and endless others, in short, as a figure “meaning everything to them, all identities, all persons, all names” (197), so that he/it/they ultimately, during the violent struggle for possession, melted away like a “melted wax” (198), this episode further suggests the inseparable linkage between the subaltern/colonized Other with the desire of the colonizer Self. The LaFarges who came to Mars, just like many other people who have come to Mars as a way of escape, in other words, to "enjoy old age in peace" (183) are constantly reminded of their dead son Tom even on Mars. It becomes quite clear, for LaFarge, that while he ultimately recognizes that this seemingly resurrected figure of Tom is the result of his dream/delusion, he, nevertheless, cannot deny that “if [one] can’t have reality, a dream is just as good” (194). This admission reflects, according to David Mogen, “the ruthlessness with which the quest is pursued, for wealth, power and possession of the dream” (93).

V. Mars and the New World Garden

Eric Rabkin is partly right in drawing a parallel between Euro-Americans and these new Martians “who has a second chance untainted with imperialism” (Rabkin 98). If these Americans (or emigrated Martians) are allowed a second chance to re-live the American myth, then it follows, in retrospect, that this journey from the Old World (Earth) to the New World (Mars) and this second chance on Mars, are, inexplicably also a part of the rhetoric and The Martian Chronicles and Re-imagining the Frontier Myth 285 logic of the frontier myth—consistent with its imperialistic characteristics. If the above logic is correct, then the final chapter should not be read as a showcase for a second chance to relive the frontier myth untainted by imperialism and colonialism, but rather as a revisionism of the frontier myth fulfilling “Lomax’s characterization of the role of landscape [the frontier of Mars] in SF" (Nichols 105) which is “to dramatize the need for a new totalizing myth in a world fragmented by the loss of the old” (Lomax 253). Thus, while “The Million-Year Picnic” seems to validate Rabkin’s above reading, closer reading of this chapter rather reveals an unsettling notion that even with human beings' second chance on Mars and their seemingly maturity (even as they realize their capacity for destructiveness through imperialism and colonization) underlies the cyclical—both creative and entropic—process of the myth. This prophetic idealism and conquest is best described in Turner’s essay: as “faith in man, hope for democracy, belief in American’s destiny, unbounded confidence in his ability to make his dream come true” (138) by way “of conquest” and in “domination” and “destructiveness” (170). Partly embodying this cyclical process of idealism and conquest, the very last chapter of the novel, “The Million-Year Picnic,” introduces a typical American family on an one-way journey to Mars to start a new (but a purer) civilization—“to start over . . . to turn away from all that back on Earth and strike out on a new line” (267). As the father burns all the documents associated with the planet Earth as firewood, he further tells his children that he is “burning [Earth's] way of life” (267). While it is true that the father recognizes the ways of life—“ logic, common sense, good government, peace, and responsibility” (258)—on Earth and towards the Martian frontier are equally destructive and wrong, it is also true that, he, nonetheless, relies on the rhetoric and logic of Earthian myth (particularly, the American frontier myth) to justify his family’s establishment on Mars to start a new frontier myth. Investigating the 286 Yoo, Jihun frontier myth in Bradbury’s The Martian Chronicles, Gary K. Wolfe correctly suggests the novel “talks about the colonization of Mars in terms of the colonization of American, and is, in fact, a view of history thinly disguised as science fiction . . . as a way of retaining some sort of frontier experience” (34-35). Here Wolfe carefully hints that the “father’s motivation is akin to that of one of Turners’ pioneers” and “[a]s the story progress, the ‘picnic’ becomes less a family outing than a metaphor for the eventual rebirth of a new civilization” (46).

VI. Conclusion

Along with the final chapter of the novel, if Wolfe’s ideas are considered, then it becomes more clear, just as Wolfe pointed out elsewhere in his essay, that “Bradbury’s Martian frontier never moves beyond the stage of environmental dominion” (48) as “the conclusion of The Martian Chronicles brings the myth full circle” (54). Even as the father tells his children the sordid tale of Earth’s fate—towards suicidal devastation—and even as he tossed all “the laws and beliefs of Earth” (267) into the fire, seemingly renouncing his own legacy and heritage, nonetheless, just like the European conquerors, he tells each son to pick “the city you like best” (263) and when they get to a deserted Martian city “where fifty or sixty huge structures still standing [with] old centrifugal fountains” (263), he then tells all of them that “[t]his is ours. This is where we live from now on” (263). Paradoxically, that in this precise moment “they stood there, King of the Hill, Top of the Heap, Ruler of All . . . [like] Unimpeachable Monarch and Presidents” (266) rather suggests the true nature of their establishment —a conquest by becoming new kings, new rulers and new monarchs and presidents, nonetheless built upon previous Martian civilization. Together The Martian Chronicles and Re-imagining the Frontier Myth 287 with the intention to claim the “whole darn planet” (266) as their own, the prospective arrival of another rocket carrying another family with four daughters suggests the engendering of a new species and a new civilization. Thus, while the final chapter may make it seem that “they are willing to affirm that they exceed the category ‘human’” (Whitehall 190), this precise condition in the affirmation on their super-humanity and limitation of humanity instead calls for a re-imagining of the myth. Consequently their faces (Americans-turned to new-Martians) reflected in the canal do not only signify a new hope for mankind as prophetic idealism, as many would think, but also a cyclic process of creation and destruction, just as David Mogen pointed out that “colonization process is both imperialistic conquest and metamorphosis” (92). And this, in fact, has always been the rhetoric and logic of the frontier myth, renouncing the Old for the regeneration of the New, for its perpetual re-imagination.

Works Cited

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논문접수일: 2016. 04. 10 / 심사완료일: 2016. 04. 30 / 게재확정일: 2016. 05. 04