1 Alone Among Friends and How Memories of the Father Inform a Son's Understanding of Masculinity in the Novels of Per Petterson Submitted by Adam Gallari to the University of Exeter as a thesis for the degree of Doctor of Philosophy in English In August 2015 This thesis is available for Library use on the understanding that it is copyright material and that no quotation from the thesis may be published without proper acknowledgement. I certify that all material in this thesis which is not my own work has been identified and that no material has previously been submitted and approved for the award of a degree by this or any other University. Signature: ………………………………………………………….. 2 Abstract A combination of an original work of fiction, Alone Among Friends, and a critical discussion of masculinity in the work of Per Petterson, this dissertation joins a growing conversation in the field of Masculine Studies about the depiction of men in literature. Written in a spare and realistic style, Alone Among Friends is a novella that hopes to explore ideas of masculinity, friendship, success, and failure present in the mindset of the American Millennial generation. Takings its cues from The Sun Also Rises, Light Years, and The Salt Point, Alone Among Friends examines the destructive nature of hyper-masculinity and highlights the danger of attaching too much meaning to external validation as the measuring stick for one's self worth. Moreover, Alone Among Friends is also influenced by the themes of memory and knowing found within the work of Per Petterson. "How Memories of the Father Inform a Son's Understanding of Masculinity in the Novels of Per Petterson" discusses the ways in which Per Petterson, a Norwegian writer, has been both influenced by American notions of masculinity and also managed to incorporate European aspects of family into his work to create a unique hybrid perspective that merges the American idea of the emancipated male protagonist with the European family centered narrative. By tracing Petterson's influences, this dissertation will attempt to show how Petterson is a logical heir to such American writers as Ernest Hemingway and Richard Ford, and it will argue that, by firmly grounding his novels in the point of view of sons that study every aspect of their fathers, Petterson inhabits a space that has long been absent from both American and Norwegian literature alike. Through the examination of Out Stealing Horses and In the Wake, this dissertation focuses on the varying ways in which these direct comparisons between father and son influence the son's perception of his own success and failure as a man. 3 Alone Among Friends and How Memories of the Father Inform a Son's Understanding of Masculinity in the Novels of Per Petterson Table of Contents Alone Among Friends Part I. 5 I. 5 II. 13 III. 17 IV. 21 V. 35 VI. 46 Part 2. 54 VII. 54 VIII. 69 IX. 71 X. 84 Part 3. 94 XI. 94 XII. 100 XIII. 113 XIV. 119 XV. 128 XVI. 133 XVII. 138 XVIII. 149 XIX. 152 How Memories of the Father Inform a Son's Understanding of Masculinity In the Novels of Per Petterson 1. Introduction 155 1.1 Introducing Per Petterson 155 1.2 Gender and Masculine Studies 156 1.2.1 Literary Masculinities 157 1.2.1.1 The "Self-Made Man" and American Literary Masculinity 158 1.2.1.2 American Literature and Paternal Absence 162 4 1.3 Masculinity in Per Petterson's Work 164 1.3.1 Family, Death, and Place in the Work of Per Petterson 164 1.3.2 Character Memory and Unrest in Per Petterson's Writing 172 1.3.3 The Father/Son Dynamic in Petterson's Work 176 1.4 Masculinity and Fatherhood in the Norwegian Tradition 180 2. From Ernest Hemingway to Richard Ford: American Literary Masculinities and Their Influence on Petterson 187 2.1 Ernest Hemingway: Masculinity as Conflict and Violence 187 2.2 Cheever, Yates, and Carver: The Suburban Discontent 199 2.2.1 Cheever and Yates: Welcome to the Suburbs 201 2.2.2 Raymond Carver: Blue-Collar Burnout 212 2.3 The Ford Parallel: The Contemplation Man and Fatherly Vulnerability 217 3. Masculinity and Memory: The Father/Son Dynamic in Per Petterson's Work 228 3.1 Out Stealing Horses: Unrest and the Continued Quest for Paternal Validation 229 3.2 In the Wake: Father as Mirror and the Perception of Failure 264 4. Conclusion 290 5. Bibliography 297 5 "For it is not their enemies who condemn men to solitude. It is their friends." Milan Kundera, The Joke ALONE AMONG FRIENDS Part 1. "All things truly wicked start from innocence. So you live day by day and enjoy what you have and do not worry. You lie and hate it and it destroys you and every day is more dangerous, but you live day to day as in a war." Ernest Hemingway, A Moveable Feast I. For a moment he allows himself to believe that it will be Monica, not Troy, who will walk through the double doors a few feet away, and that the plane and its passengers have arrived from Paris, not Southern California. He imagines seeing a slender woman in a trench coat. She holds a burgundy handbag. She drags a small suitcase behind her. Occasionally, it tips over onto its side. She turns to look at it, a bit confused, a bit annoyed, the corner of her mouth twisted in an expression that he could never gauge, before she approaches him, stands on her tip-toes, kisses him on the cheek and then asks how her cute boy is doing. A week ago he received a phone call. Seeing the name flashing across his phone had shocked him, and when he answered the conversation was short, but everything that needed to be said was said. Hello. How are you? I’m good. Yes. Yes. It’s been a long time. You’re coming back? Yes. You’re doing better? Yes. And then: Stay at my place a while. So he purchased an air mattress and a couple of heavy down blankets because, even though it’s a quality apartment in a Park Slope brownstone, the heating goes out from time to time and he doubts Troy is accustomed to the approaching New York winter. 6 He bought a mini-fridge, where he stowed all the beer. He covered it with a red-and-white checkered tablecloth. He topped it with a few plants to give it the appearance of just another innocuous piece of furniture. The liquor he moved into his room. After four days of careful preparations, what was once a small study is now ready for Troy’s arrival. Still, Clancy knows he should have put the mattress and blankets in what would have been Monica’s bedroom, if they hadn’t always spent the night together in his, but even now, it’s a place he can walk into whenever the images of her on the cobblestoned streets of Paris keep him awake at night, and he doesn’t want to relinquish that just yet. The doors open. People stream in. It’s been a few years since Troy flew into the Hudson Valley to see him. It had been awkward and strained. Clancy still wonders if it was because he had changed, or if Troy was simply too far gone by then. He figures he should just stay where he is. Troy will find him. It will be easier that way. He hasn’t changed all that much. His eyes gloss over people rushing, hugging, kissing, laughing, and jumping. One man even swings a tiny woman in the air. He envies the simplicity of their happiness. He watches them until he notices a man in a pea coat with a blue Los Angeles Dodgers sweatshirt underneath it. The man carries two duffel bags. The man has shoulder-length hair, dark, a hint deeper than Monica’s, which he occasionally flips from in front of his eyes with a sudden jerk of his neck. His face is thin. The bones of his cheeks and jaw are prominent and when Clancy meets his gaze, the man smiles. “Thank you,” the man says. He drops his two duffel bags and takes Clancy in an embrace he’s not prepared for. You can stay as long as you like. Don’t worry. Take as much time as you need. Stay as long as you want. It’s no imposition really. This is what Clancy finds 7 himself thinking, and the suddenness of it shocks him. He wants to tell him to move in. The place will be empty unless he does. Right now, it’s just him and Dan, his old college roommate, who doesn’t yet know about Troy’s “visit,” and it doesn’t feel like home to him anymore. But it has been years, and Clancy isn’t certain if he knows who this person standing in front of him is anymore. He’s still broad in the shoulders, but before he had been big, huge even. He had been built like a brick shithouse. He had been muscle on top of muscle, and he had sported a high-and-tight Marine Corps fade. He’d been the kind of young man mothers pray their daughters might bring home for dinner. Now, he looks more like the guy in the corner of the Lower East Side dive bar who, afterwards, girls never tell their mothers about. Troy picks up his bags.