Читать книгу Side-Stepping Normativity in Selected Short Stories by Sylvia Townsend Warner - Rebecca K. Hahn - Страница 17

In “Bruno”, the walled kitchen garden is a sexually charged place. It is associated with lust, knowledge, and desire and is both a site of inclusion and exclusion. Only the initiated know how to find it and, more importantly, how to enter it. It is notable that the reader is not included in this group and is never given a ‘key’ to solve the riddle of the garden. This approach is in keeping with the rest of the story which continually keeps the reader at a detached distance.

Gibbie is very protective of the garden, jealously hiding it away:

The lawn had its second mowing before Bruno discovered the kitchen garden. It lay a quarter of a mile from the house within a high brick wall. Its gate was kept locked; as a further precaution it was topped with iron spikes. Peering between the bars, he saw lettuces, peas, young carrots in disciplined rows, a tomato-house, a fruit-cage, and at intervals dead birds swinging from gibbets. In the first week Bruno would not have hesitated to demand the run of his teeth among the tomatoes and the peas and gooseberries – small quantities of which were vouchsafed by Henryson and implacably boiled by Mrs. Henryson. But now he had a changed Gibbie, a northern Gibbie, to handle, so he resorted to tablets of vitamin C, eked out by chewing sorrel and young conifer tips. (69)

The garden is situated on the periphery of the house. It is connected to the main building – fruit and vegetables are transported from the garden to the house – but the garden exists independently of the house. The garden is notably enclosed on all sides by a high wall that extends far upwards. The wall has been constructed for defensive purposes to keep intruders and thieves out. Additionally, the gate to the garden is locked and only a person in possession of a key can open the lock. The key and the lock add to the sexually charged atmosphere of the garden – keys being suggestive of the phallus and locks of body orifices. The walls are also secured with iron spikes, sharp pieces of metal that visibly demonstrate that anyone without a key is unwelcome. The worst threat, however, comes from the dead birds which form a striking contrast to the flourishing vegetation. Perversely, they also enable this form of vegetation. If they did not deter other birds from flying into the garden, there would be less fruit and vegetables.

In the passage quoted above, Bruno is depicted as an intruder intent on violating the garden. He is unable to enter, but he is able to stick his head between the bars and see what the garden has to offer. The produce he sees whets his appetite and drives his desire to gorge himself on the fresh fruit and vegetable. Just like Gibbie in an earlier scene, he wishes to consume what is in front of him. His desire, however, is much more unrestrained than Gibbie’s, since he, Bruno, wants the “run of his teeth among the tomatoes and the peas and gooseberries”. Mrs Henryson the cook, however, stalls his rapacious behaviour by boiling all the vegetables to a soft consistency until they no longer pose any temptation. Bruno realises that Gibbie, at this point, will not grant him access the garden. For the time being, he gives in to Gibbie’s wishes and resorts to tablets and plants he finds outside the walled garden. The “northern” Gibbie’s reluctance to open the garden up to Bruno is evidence of his fear that the garden will stimulate Bruno’s sexual appetite which he, Gibbie, will not be able to satisfy.

The walled kitchen garden gains even greater importance when Hector, eleven years old, arrives with his grandmother, Mrs Lilah Lumsden, Gibbie’s cousin. Up until Hector’s arrival, Bruno and Gibbie do not refer to the garden again, and Bruno makes no further attempts to enter it.

They [Mrs Lumsden and Hector] arrived. Bruno prepared himself for the sterner side of being a secretary. This included plucking and cleaning grouse in a whirl of feathers and bluebottles, since Henryson’s niece would rather face a bull than a maggot. The boy [Hector] was more stouthearted, and found maggots interesting and even a matter of congratulation. He would have taken on the grouse and asked no reward beyond entry to the kitchen and having something to do; but Bruno had a scruple of honor. He made an assault on Gilbert’s vassalage to Henryson and demanded the key of the kitchen garden. As he made the assault publicly, he got it. (77)

Hector’s arrival is of great advantage to Bruno since it gives him the excuse he needed to ask for the key to the kitchen garden. When asked in front of other people, Gibbie is forced to give in and provides Bruno with the keys.

He [Bruno] had not suspected figs; the bushes were not visible from the gate. While Hector rioted in the fruit-cage, he gorged on figs. No word was spoken between them and they walked silently back to the house. (77)

There is no transition between the two sentences “As he [Bruno] made the assault publicly, he got it [the key]” and “He had not suspected figs”. The abruptness with which the second sentence starts emphasises Bruno’s surprise at seeing figs and, more importantly, effortlessly places him and Hector in the middle of the garden. The narrator does not describe how they crossed the border between the house and kitchen garden only to find themselves in a very different world. By crossing over into this secret retreat, Hector escapes the control of his grandmother and can run wild in the fruit-cage.

Once Bruno discovers the figs, nothing can stop him and he feeds on them greedily. Figs are usually associated with female sexuality and in Genesis 3.7 Adam and Eve famously use fig leaves to hide their nudity (see The New English Bible). Yet Warner does not comment further on the conventional associations of figs. Firstly, the fact that Bruno, a gay man, devours figs, considered a vulvic symbol, indicates her indifference to stereotypically gendered images. Secondly, Bruno never feels naked or ashamed after eating the forbidden fruit. Bruno feels the opposite in fact: he feels confirmed that he is beautiful.

Bruno and Hector do not eat the same fruit. This indicates that they are experiencing different forms of sexual pleasures. While Bruno is occupied with the figs, “Hector rioted in the fruit-cage” and, in contrast to Bruno, Hector is confined. The narrator does not specify the fruit he gorges on, but, like Bruno, he also behaves in a dissipated way. Both characters appear to be very self-absorbed and do not exchange any words. The narrator leaves it completely open regarding what exactly happens in the kitchen garden. The consumption of the fruit resembles a form of sexual initiation; however, it is impossible to tell whether, for example, Hector had his sexual awakening in the kitchen garden or whether an actual sexual encounter took place between Bruno and the boy. It is obvious that something happened in the garden to change Hector, yet the narrator never discloses what it was. At this point of the story, Hector is presented as a child with diffuse desires who cannot be categorised as either gay or straight.

It is evident that Hector perceives Bruno in a new light after their trip to the kitchen garden. To Hector, Bruno has become something rare and surprising, something he did not reckon with:

It was on the threshold that the boy inquired. ‘Where did Cousin Gilbert find you?’

‘He picked me up on a beach.’

‘Like a shell?’

‘Like a beautiful shell,’ amended Bruno. The figs had restored his knowledge that he was beautiful. ‘And sometimes he puts his ear against my ribs and listens to the noise of the sea.’ (77)

In this passage, Bruno once again becomes associated with feminised objects. Like figs, shells and the sea are common metaphors for female sexuality. Warner, however, mainly draws attention to the sensual aspect that accompanies the image of the shell and disregards stereotypical associations. Hector questions Bruno just as they are about to cross the border that separates the house, representing tradition and order, from the garden, which stands for sexual desires. They are, in a sense, still standing on undefined territory which gives Hector the freedom to pose such questions. Bruno’s figurative reply to Hector’s question unmistakably implies that he and Gibbie share an intimate relationship, and that Gibbie takes pleasure in Bruno’s body. It does not, however, define their relationship. Under the Sexual Offences Act of 1967, for instance, Bruno’s description of his and Gibbie’s relationship – despite the fact he is 19, and not, as required by law, 21 – could not count as an offence. From this moment on, Hector becomes infatuated with Bruno:

He [Hector] fastened on him [Bruno] with a child’s imperative wooing. Bruno would have preferred figs and time in his own company, but companionship was forced upon him. They bathed together and sailed paper boats down the burn – Hector taught him how to make them; they climbed trees, explored about in the car, built a grotto, sat in the dank seclusion of the game larder telling ghost stories to an accompaniment of the steadfast buzzing of bluebottles worshipping without; they carved their initials on trees, went out at dawn to pick mushrooms, fled from hornets, swore eternal secrecies, competed, leaning toward each other till they became almost of an age. (78)

Hector effectively courts Bruno. Although Bruno is not interested in spending time with Hector at first – he would have preferred to spend time alone in the kitchen garden – he soon gives in. Metaphorically, the figs stand for the sexual pleasures he would have enjoyed in the garden. Quite obviously, the long list of activities Bruno and Hector undertake together indicate that they are both infatuated by each other’s company. It is so full of romantic suggestions that it almost becomes comical. Only the last part of the sentence, “leaning toward each other till they became almost of an age”, sounds sincere, suggesting that Bruno and Hector are very well attuned to each other. It is revealing that the description of their shared intimacies and activities is extremely detailed and stands in stark contrast to the veiled description of their first outing to the walled garden. Returning to the Sexual Offences Act of 1967, the description of Hector and Bruno’s relationship vividly demonstrates that desire goes beyond the reality of the law. That is, although the reader gathers that something happened, or rather, is happening, between Hector and Bruno, the story suggests that, whatever it is, the language of the law does not suffice to classify it a punishable offence.

The first section of the chapter examined the occurrence of heteronormative expectations and unkempt bodies in the short story. Throughout his life, one of the main characters, Gibbie has been confronted with people, his mother and then Bruno, who expect him to conform to their norms. However, rather than giving in to their demands, he gradually becomes indifferent to them. Without paying much attention to anyone else, he continues to lead the life of his choice. The only person who has some influence on Gibbie is Henryson – at least for a short time. Under Henryson’s influence, Gibbie seeks to act like a proper landowner. However, as Bruno thinks to himself, “Gibbie would tire of being at the beck and call of this malodorous man [Henryson] […]” (“Bruno” 68). Bruno knows that Gibbie will soon abandon this new way of life, just as he had done in the past. This section underpins the fact that while the story revolves around the heteronorm it does not confirm or oppose it. The second section analysed the representation of the walled kitchen garden. Here, the level of indifference is reflected on a more abstract level. The narrator hints at the fact that Bruno and Hector shared some kind of sexual experience, however, there is no indication of what really took place. The story does not categorise their desires and does not seek to explain them by reducing them to any kind of norm.

In reply to Warner’s letter, in which she reflects on the way she devised the characters in “Bruno”, Maxwell writes,

‘Bruno’ isn’t right for The New Yorker. It is beautifully written, but it has a curious quality; you give your sympathy to the characters, each in turn, and then withdraw it. As if in the end you had come to dislike them all impartially. Which is perhaps the case, and your intention. (Steinman 180)

Maxwell suspects that most readers will not enjoy reading a story that leaves them baffled and, ultimately, at a loss. The “curious quality” that he mentions results from the fact that the narrator does not offer any insight into the main characters’ thoughts and feelings, and remains dispassionate to the end.