University of Wisconsin Milwaukee UWM Digital Commons Theses and Dissertations December 2013 Carry the Fire: Intersections of Apocalypse, Primitivism, and Masculinity in American Literature, 1945-2000 Dylan Barth University of Wisconsin-Milwaukee Follow this and additional works at: https://dc.uwm.edu/etd Part of the American Literature Commons Recommended Citation Barth, Dylan, "Carry the Fire: Intersections of Apocalypse, Primitivism, and Masculinity in American Literature, 1945-2000" (2013). Theses and Dissertations. 661. https://dc.uwm.edu/etd/661 This Dissertation is brought to you for free and open access by UWM Digital Commons. It has been accepted for inclusion in Theses and Dissertations by an authorized administrator of UWM Digital Commons. For more information, please contact [email protected]. CARRY THE FIRE: INTERSECTIONS OF APOCALYPSE, PRIMITIVISM, AND MASCULINITY IN AMERICAN LITERATURE, 1945-2000 by Dylan Barth A Dissertation Submitted in Partial Fulfillment of the Requirements for the Degree of Doctor of Philosophy in English at The University of Wisconsin-Milwaukee December 2013 ABSTRACT CARRY THE FIRE: INTERSECTIONS OF APOCALYPSE, PRIMITIVISM, AND MASCULINITY IN AMERICAN LITERATURE, 1945-2000 by Dylan Barth The University of Wisconsin-Milwaukee, 2013 Under the Supervision of Professor Kristie Hamilton This dissertation examines American apocalyptic and post-apocalyptic texts from 1945-2000 in order to consider the varying ways that masculinity has been constructed in relation to the imagined primitive. The first chapter provides an overview of studies in apocalypse, primitivism, and masculinity to lay the foundation for the in-depth, critical analyses that follow. The second chapter provides an operational definition of American post-apocalyptic fiction as well as a survey of American post-apocalyptic fiction that includes George Stewart’s Earth Abides, Richard Matheson’s I Am Legend, Pat Frank’s Alas, Babylon, Robert Heinlein’s Farnham’s Freehold, Larry Niven and Jerry Pournelle’s Lucifer’s Hammer, and David Brin’s The Postman. The remaining chapters focus on analyses of apocalyptic texts, texts that gesture toward apocalypse without explicitly depicting a catastrophic event. The third chapter, therefore, examines Edward Abbey’s Desert Solitaire, a non-fiction work of nature writing centered on the American Southwest in which Abbey constructs the image of the ecocentric ii male whose commitment to deep ecological thinking and a rugged, self-sufficient masculinity become reinforced through direct encounters with the primitive. The fourth chapter considers how William Gibson’s cyberpunk novel Neuromancer reimagines the intersections of masculinity, primitivism, and apocalypse in the heterotopic sites of cyberspace and through the formulation of the virtual male. The fifth and final chapter analyzes Chuck Palahniuk’s Fight Club, which employs conventions of the post-apocalyptic genre to highlight the limitations of apocalyptic fantasy and the effects it has upon contemporary men who think encounters with the primitive could allow for more “authentic” approaches to masculinity. Overall, this project highlights several key tensions between white men and men of color, between moral and savage men, and between sheer physical force and strength of mind. The intersections of apocalypse and primitivism, therefore, constitute the figurative territory in which competing constructions of American manhood have been debated in the late twentieth- century. iii © Copyright by Dylan Barth, 2013 All Rights Reserved iv TABLE OF CONTENTS CHAPTER PAGE I. Introduction …………………………………………………………………… 1 II. American Post-Apocalyptic Fiction, 1945-2000 …………………………… 24 III. The Ecocentric Male in Edward Abbey’s Desert Solitaire ………………... 92 IV. The Virtual Male in William Gibson’s Neuromancer ………………………. 134 V. The Anarcho-Primitive Male in Chuck Palahniuk’s Fight Club …………… 172 Epilogue ..……………………………………………………………………………. 203 Bibliography ………………………………………………………………………… 207 Curriculum Vitae …………………………………………………………………… 219 v 1 Chapter One: Introduction In the opening scene of Edward Abbey’s post-apocalyptic novel Good News (1980), the story’s protagonist, Jack Burns, and his Harvard-educated, Native American sidekick, Sam, sit around a campfire in the desert of the American southwest, roasting an animal that is described as “part Airedale” and “part coyote.” As the two discuss the origins of their meal, Sam tells Jack: “You think too much, boss. Thinking is good but you must not think too much” (7). The conversation continues and Sam decides to play a trick on Jack; he uses sleight- of-hand and hypnotism to turn his knife into what appears to be a rattlesnake: “The blade glitters, flashes; there is a hissing noise, a sudden rasping vibration, and where the knife had been, a rattlesnake appears, its body draped over Sam’s shoulder” (7). Jack sees through the illusion, and the two men decide to continue on their quest; they smother the fire, pack up their things, and head towards the city to look for Jack’s now-grown son. On the trail, they come across a grim scene that warns them of the dangers ahead. They “look toward the corral a hundred yards away and the tall tower—a skeleton of metal—standing within it. There they see, dangling on a rope, black in silhouette against the eastern sky, the first of the hanged men” (15). The dead men, strung up by followers loyal to the novel’s primary antagonist, the Chief, are meant to discourage resistance to the oppressive, militarized regime that has flourished in the ashes of modern America. 2 Contrast the opening scene of Good News with one that appears several chapters later, where two other men—one white and one Apache—also sit near a campfire. In this scene, the two men have bound prisoners accompanying them: “On the other side of the fire, bound and trussed, lie the two young prisoners. The first moans fitfully, semideliriously, moving feebly in his bonds. Blood trickles from his lips, from his ear; his ragged clothes are soaked with sweat and blood” (73). When interrogation does not persuade the wounded prisoner to talk, Sergeant Brock, the white man, commands his Native American subordinate, Corporal Mangus Colorado, Jr., to “finish him off.” When Mangus draws a pistol, Brock says: “No, no, not right here, you stupid nigger. Not with a gun. Take him out there ... and use your knife. Don’t play around. Just get rid of him” (75). Mangus obeys, and after a moment, there are “a series of grunts from the darkness, a stifled scream. Then silence. The Apache comes back into the firelight, wiping knife blade on his sleeve” (75). The two men then fasten a rope around the legs of the second prisoner—a young boy—and dangle him above the fire to continue their questioning in the service of the Chief. The contrast between these parallel scenes reveals two varying constructions of white masculinity that are situated in contrast to a racialized Other. Within the frontier-like, post-apocalyptic setting of the novel, both white men establish relationships with Native American men further configured within a wilderness environment. Jack, an aging cowboy figure whose sole purpose is to search for his long-lost son, is shown to be a wise and “thinking” (but not 3 overeducated) man, and his relationship with his Native American friend Sam, who uses his knife for parlor tricks and for teaching Jack a lesson rather than for murder, is depicted in terms of equality and guidance. Sergeant Brock, on the other hand, who holds a key position in the Chief’s military whose end is to squash local resistance and “rebuild America, to make her once again the world’s foremost industrial, military, and ... spiritual power, an example to mankind of what human beings, properly organized and disciplined, can accomplish,” is not a “thinking” man but is content with following orders and, in later scenes, succumbing to his brutish impulses (95). Brock’s superior position allows him to command Mangus and speak to him in racial slurs, while Mangus himself is characterized as “stupid” and willingly engages in primitive acts of murder and torture. This example from Good News highlights the key tensions that I will examine within the post-apocalyptic and apocalyptic texts of this study: tensions between white men and men of color, between moral and savage men, and between sheer physical force and strength of mind. The intersections of apocalypse and primitivism, therefore, constitute the figurative territory in which competing constructions of American manhood have been debated in the late 20th century by authors ranging in stature from George Stewart, Pat Frank and David Brin to Edward Abbey, William Gibson, and Chuck Palahniuk, in genres as seemingly unlike as the post-apocalyptic novel, American nature writing, cyberpunk fiction, and the contemporary realist novel. 4 * * * The end of the world seems always to be at hand. Apocalyptic thinking has been a central part of American mythology since the country’s inception, and despite the regularity of doomsday warnings that inevitably fail to come true, Americans tend to be in perpetual fear (and occasional hope) that the end is near. The majority of apocalyptic warnings have grown out of the historical events, often crises, that spark enormous cultural change. In his early study of the role of apocalypse in American fiction—Sense of an Ending (1967)—Frank Kermode writes that in the twentieth-century, crisis was “inescapably a central element in our endeavors towards making sense of our world”