Anissah Madrid
In his novel Open Water, Caleb Nelson traverses the nuances of time and healing in an inherently cyclical fashion. In exploring the novel's discourse over a year, Nelson proposes a relationship with freedom, masculinity, and Blackness as fragments of a disjointed whole: thus, manifesting in the cyclical story that encompasses the waxing and waning of identity—further, exploring the relationship between time and character as comparable properties of subjectivity. In doing so, Nelson’s focus on the seasons reflects the nuances of healing as distinguished by applicable periods of idealism, agency, maladaptation, and acclimation; thus, forcing recognition of intersectionality rather than maintaining a fragmented view of self.
At the beginning of the novel, Nelson catalyzes the protagonists' growing romance by placing the setting within conventional aspects of Winter akin to frigid cold and unrelenting bitterness: thus, juxtaposing the warmness of emotion related to intimacy, idealism, and hope. Upon their first interaction, Nelson beseeches the protagonist's desire merely days following their formal introduction, intending his infatuation as inevitably ill-prepared, an impromptu. Although his brother advises he cut it off: with idealism and hope, Nelson emplores a metaphor of detailed germination. He abstracts this growth, stating: "To give it a voice is to sow a seed, knowing that somehow, someway, it will grow. It is to admit and submit to something which is on the outer limits of your understanding" (Nelson 8). Here, Nelson proposes the intricacy of admitting desire, specifically justifying a sense of blind idealism. Their situation inherently blurs the lines of honesty and truthfulness, as being in a relationship inevitably hinders the female protagonists' connection. Thus, Nelson is planting the seeds of desire in the wrong season, both literally and figuratively, sowing in denial. With blind-optimism and hopeful ideality, the couple endeavors through the outer limits of honesty: or, instead, the "outer limits [of] understanding," walking the line of an emotional bond that borders infidelity. Nelson foreshadows the likelihood of a prosperous relationship—fabricating the foundation of desire within the harshness of Winter to establish their demise: however, devising room for a cyclical shift in growth. Further, in continuously meeting at bars, Nelson envelopes the two in the choppy water of an explicitly social setting, contrasting their growing intimacy with the rigidness of social interaction. In doing so, Nelson explores their solace as: "[…] finding comfort in a language which is instantly familiar. You create a small world for yourselves and for you both only, sitting on this sofa, looking out at the world which [tends to] engulf even the most alive" (Nelson 12). Here, Nelson affixes their lively comfortability as found in the "language" they share, both literally and figuratively, functioning their world, or, intimacy, as a shared atmosphere. In setting their world as figuratively enclosed, Nelson emphasizes their identities as wholly intertwined and relative to their shared perceptions of the world, specifically as Black artists—the male protagonist photographer and the female dancer. Thus, the intention of the external world "engulf[ing] even the most alive" contextualizes their shared perception of the world, recognizing their experiences under race and occupation as dependent on observation. Projections onto their atmosphere then serve as a chasm for external perception; Nelson repeatedly mentions the idea in the novel as "being seen," an act abridged solely by Black individuals. Thus, Nelson introduces the male protagonist's fragmentation in response to the projections' weight and emphasizes the healing notion of their likeness and relationship.
As the novel progresses through Springtime, Nelson proposes the protagonists' recognition of self as best examined through projections of agency and liberation, effectively reflecting wholeness and reclamation of Blackness. Nelson explores both protagonists' familiar steps in expanding their comfortability to a more private setting through their secluded interactions. When the female protagonist returns from Dublin, she immediately urges their homecoming: in the rush of sentiment, Nelson detaches from the moment, stating: "[...] you experience a strange moment in which you are flung into the future, wondering how you will remember this. You would like a witness. You would like someone to stop you and ask, What are you doing?, to which you would reply, I'm doing what I feel'" (Nelson 47). Here, Nelson explores their connection not only on the subject of romance but also as an examination of self-assurance, expressing confidence in the security of trust. Thus, the spring not only advances their attraction but functions as a growth spurt in conviction and self-assurance: allowing the protagonist, seemingly for the first time, to step outside of himself in a declaration of confidence—to do what he feels. In the same way that the protagonist serves as a photographer, the novel acts as his camera, flinging the reader into points of context that make up fractions over the year. By traversing time through "flung into the future," Nelson underlines this point as a fragmented memento: acting as a snapshot with interwoven context that relies wholly on the specified emotion related to the moment. He confronts the reader by requesting a witness: working as a mirrored confrontation between the self and the reader. Akin to Nelson's suggestive use of reflection, Jacques Lacan, in his writing on the "Mirror Stage," emplores the impressionable use of mirrors, albeit in toddlers. Lacan's argument suggests that in catalyzing the development of the self, the child can begin to distinguish between the self and the other, thus, resulting in bodily autonomy and the first form of agency. Lacan explains the construction of his psychoanalytic study as:
a drama whose internal thrust is precipitated from insufficiency to anticipation—and which manufactures for all the subject, caught up in the lure of spatial identification, the succession of phantasies that extends from a fragmented [body-image to] the finally donned armor of an alienating identity (Lacan 78).
Here, Lacan suggests the switch from "insufficiency to anticipation" as the precise anxiety of the child. "Phantasies" of the image function as properties or projections onto the concept of wholeness, thus, suggesting the fragmented body image as a reflection of the ego: a wholly disjointed development in progress. In turn, the child's reflection juxtaposes the wholeness of the physical body with the projections onto the self that function to hinder the ego—forming the core image of the child and the first projections onto the self. Nelson utilizes this assumption as significant in expressing the waxing and waning of self as personified by the protagonist throughout the novel—displaying him in fragments as if the realization of being whole is dissimilar. The protagonist recognizes the lure of spatial identification by misidentifying the image of wholeness in the mirror, as his fragmented body-image results from projections onto the ego. This is to say, in recognition of the mirror stage, Nelson's use of the second-person perspective positions the female protagonist and audience as mirrors of self-confrontation, specifically in which this action of feeling is his first form of emotional agency.
Further, since the novel operates under the contextualization of its cultural setting, Nelson utilizes allusions to present movies, music, and individuals that commune to an interwoven reclamation of Blackness. In proposing identity as inherently multifaceted and nuanced, Nelson suggests an understanding of such as wholly ambiguous, indicating the inclusion of cultural powerhouses. Thus, by including Solange and emphasizing her gratitude towards Junie Morrison in her song of the same name, Nelson comments on their inter-relationship of shared identities, stating:
Which is to say everything comes of something else. Which is to say from your solid ache comes a gentle joy. Which is to say, moving across your living room, affording yourself the freedom, to be, such simplicity in this, in the hazy, rhythmic bounce of the drums, intentional bassline, intentional and unthinking in your steps, approaching ecstasy, losing control of what you know, losing what you know. Born fresh, born new, born free (Nelson 37).
Here, in exploring the rhythm and the freedom of self-expression in dance, Nelson applies a tempo to traversing the confines of his Blackness, affording himself the space to let his guard down. By using the cyclical movement of sentiment as a prevalent theme throughout the novel, Nelson applies a sense of rhythm to Blackness: emphasizing the movement, the freedom, the bounce, and the baseline as facets of expression akin to "ecstasy," which is to say, they afford him the detachment of intoxication. Further, Nelson conveys freedom in his relationship with the female protagonist, seeing as she is a dancer herself. In relating the expression of dance to his relationship with the female protagonist and freedom, Nelson applies his sense of autonomy as intricately wound within his romantic love. Which is to say, his release, to a certain degree, familiarly parallels his masculinity—to live "intentional and unthinking" in this way is to relinquish the traditional masculine facet of control. By stating the male protagonist as "born fresh, born new, and born free" in his comfortability, Nelson applies the action of agency and liberation afforded within his love for the female protagonist. Centering the protagonist's most significant part of growth within the springtime, Nelson recognizes the sowed seed as a means for developing his budding romance, agency, and liberation, foreshadowing the waxing and waning as prevalent throughout the conflict of the novel.
In examining summer with an almost meditative warmth, Nelson proposes acknowledging fragmentation as tolerated most throughout the lolling of passion—developing summer as maladaptive. In analyzing yet another form of cross-cultural representations of Blackness, Nelson formulates the negative consequence of the season, allowing the protagonist to explore the confines of his fragments. As a testament to the sentiment of wholeness, Nelson explores Blackness as contrastingly divergent, stating: "[…] wondering how strange a life, to be presented in the world through your flaws; through blood, swollen face, your bent body. How strange a life you and other Black people lead, forever seen and unseen, forever heard and silenced" (Nelson 80). Here, Nelson proposes that the protagonist's Blackness often manifests in bits and pieces of a fragmented whole, emphasizing the strangeness afforded in his identity—specifically under the facets of a Black man. In highlighting the nuances of Blackness as navigating the world both "seen and unseen" and "heard and silenced," the novel comments on the societal capacity to manipulate experiences by reducing the Black body and voice to a grey area, proposing an inherently exploitive relationship. In continuing the fragmentation of Blackness, Nelson suggests its outward perception as inherently skewed: offering his use of "through blood, swollen face, [and] bent body" as generalized facets of the media desensitize Black trauma. Nelson further beseeches the obligation of including Black creatives throughout the novel. Each individual holds a stipulated bond with their identity—attempting to craft his individualism introspectively by framing these small freedoms. Further, James Bladwin comments on this divergence in his essay "Many Thousands Gone," where he exposes the duality in revealing the underlined projections that create our society's foundational race image. Akin to Lacan's projection and reflection: Baldwin distinguishes:
When [the Black male] violates this image, therefore, he stands in the greatest danger (sensing which, we uneasily suspect that he is very often playing a part for our benefit); and, what is not always so apparent but is equally true, we are then in some danger ourselves—hence our retreat or our blind and immediate retaliation. Our dehumanization of the Negro then is indivisible from our dehumanization of ourselves: the loss of our own identity is the price we pay for the annulment of his" (Baldwin 26).
Here, Baldwin exposes the duality of revealing the underlined racial projections that create our society's foundational race image. In supposing Black lives as an act played in part for the benefit of society, Baldwin offers the fragmented body image as a product of the projection and reflection of institutions that so heavily safeguard this indication: our benefit relies solely on the marginality of their identity. These projections, however, remain underlined throughout the fabrication of society, and the tackling of such: akin to Jung's shadow work, would inherently result in "blind and immediate retaliation." Nelson utilizes Baldwin's emphasis on identity fragmentation to present the "strangeness" of his Blackness. Their expressions of identity are never explicit to themselves and, in many ways, are consistently exposed to subjectivity. Thus, proposing the protagonist's Blackness as inherently bound with his inability to grasp bodily autonomy, in that his body—the essence of his very being, is a matter of subjection.
Nelson stresses the cyclicality of sentiments by ending the novel in autumn and with a sense of acclimation, returning to the agency addressed and lost within the spring. Throughout the novel, Nelson utilizes prayer-like gospels to address the reader existentially. Thus, in using a Socratic reflection, the protagonist applies a sense of wholeness, stating: "You are more than the sum of your traumas, you decide, introducing her to your friends, your rhythms so fluid, a double act to be reckoned with. This is my friend, you say, words neither of you believe. (But can multiple truths not exist? Is anything definitive? Do you believe in permanence?)" (120) Here, Nelson addresses both the self and the reader in the subjective nature of projections and identity, implementing a return to the sentiment of agency lost within the spring. Nelson emphasizes being more than these projections, proposing existence as ubiquitously ambiguous and presuming multiplicity in life as a fact of reality. Thus the protagonist is more than a single facet of perceptions: more than a single fragment—or group of fragments—instead, he remains a fragmented whole. Nelson further implements the cyclical motion of sentiments as a double act by denouncing the definitive and permanence, relinquishing power over perception by renouncing a sense of control over projections. Acceptance of such thus functions as the acclimation within the novel, as living involves more adaption than it does wisdom. Thus, in continuing with the meditative use of prayer, Nelson ends the novel with the testament: "God has many faces. Many voices. A song in the darkness. Have faith. Suck at the snake's bite, spit out the venom at your feet. To swallow is to suppress. To be you is to apologize and often that apology comes in the form of suppression, and that suppression is indiscriminate. Spit it out" (Nelson 128). Here, Nelson again pinpoints the diversity of truth—utilizing God's many faces and voices as facets of revelation. In using the serpent to express the vermin of indifference, Nelson functions suppression as a form of non-fulfillment. To suppress in this action is to succumb, and to swallow is to accept. Thus, Nelson uses the biblical allusion as a testament to the projections of Blackness—embodying the true evil of dehumanization and racial indifference. In applying apology as a form of submission, the novel comes full circle in that its reclamation of Blackness denounces the indiscriminate. By centralizing the reclamation, Nelson appeases the diversity of truth and upholds fragmentation, not as a debilitation but as an indiscriminate fact of being human. By spitting out this venom, the protagonist moves into a new cycle of existence that acknowledges all aspects of the self as both disjointed and whole: in that identity's best expression is at the heart of all intersections. Thus, Nelson formulates a cyclical year that breaks and heals, producing the whole, fragmented identity.
Thus, in interpreting the seasons as nuances of healing, the distinguishing factors force recognition of the intersections of identity—proposing fragmentation as a form of wholeness. By beginning their relationship in Winter, Nelson, with ideality, presents a sense of a new beginning concerning the period with most humanity, manifesting in the warmness of kinship. The protagonist's love, in consequence, projects facets of agency and liberation, offering wholeness as a dissimilar image of self. However, through the waxing and waning, Nelson introduces a sense of maladaptation, in that with an off foundation and improperly sowed seed, the inevitability of demise falters tenfold. Thus, by the end of the novel, Nelson stresses a sense of ambiguity in traversing the confines of identity. Life and formative experiences are relative to multiplicity—although existence functions under the confines of the present, multiple truths prevail validly. In structuring the novel in this way, repetition of interpretations proves substantial: every form of argument is wholly valid—utilizing the book's form of Socratic meditation. Hence, emphasizing the title as undividedly relevant: diving into open water functions as a chasm for expressing the depth of perception.
Works Referenced
Baldwin, James. “Many Thousands Gone.” Notes of a Native Son, Beacon Press, 20 Nov. 2012, pp. 25-46.
Lacan, Jacques. “The Mirror Stage as Formative of the I Function: as Revealed in Psychoanalytic Experience.” Écrits. Translated by Bruce Fink in collaboration with Héloïse Fink and Russell Grigg, 1st ed., W. W. Norton & Company, 17 Jan. 2007, pp. 75-82.
Nelson, Caleb Azumah. Open Water. Grove Press, Black Cat, 13 April 2021.
Biography
Anissah Madrid is a twenty-year-old Community College student currently finishing dual Associate degrees in English and Philosophy. She hopes to pursue Graduate school in either subject, and she is interested in Absurdism and Romanticism.
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