The appreciation of My Oedipus Complex读后感

外语系10级3班高文晴201005010304 My Oedipus Complex My Oedipus Complex, written by the famous Irish short storywriter Frank O?Connor, in my opinion, is more a sacred narration of the youth and growing-up problem than just a simple story told by a little child. Before starting the story, let?s see the background of the text. The Oedipus Complex originated from a myth about a Greek hero named Oedipus, written by Sophocles. As it develops, it now refers to the positive libidinal feelings of a child to the parent of the opposite sex and hostile or jealous feelings toward the parent of the same sex that may be a source of adult personality disorder when unresolved. It is a pattern of profound emotional ambivalence, a troublesome mixture of love and hate. The Oedipus Complex occurs during the phallic stage, from roughly ages 3-6 years. Freud believed that during this stage boys seek genital stimulation and develop both unconscious desires for their mother and jealousy and hatred for their father, whom they consider a rival. It was said that boys felt guilt and lurking fear that their father would punish them, such as by castration. Freud also believed that conscience and gender identity form as the child resolved the Oedipus Complex at age 5 or 6, but this actually happens earlier. A child tends to become strongly masculine or feminine without even having the same sex parent present. The protagonist in this text, My Oedipus Complex, is just in this stage. Then let?s see more details about the whole text. There are four characters in the story: Larry- the protagonist, also the narrator,his mother, his father, and his new born brother, Sonny. The story is told by the little child, Larry, who is five years old and who grows up in his peaceful and safe world with just himself and his “beloved”mother. He is not ready to share his mother?s attention with his father, who is returned from the WWI and with the new-born brother. It is because he has strongly connected with his mother during the past five years and wants her to belong only to him and love him only. To understand the external conflicts of the story, I?d like to analyse the four characters first: The protagonist, Larry, is a happy, creative, imaginative and kind-hearted young boy who thinks and cares a lot about his mother. For example, when he thought what his father said made his mother anxious, he bravely interrupted his father. Also,one day he said to his mother “I?m going to marry you when I grow up”. His creation is reflected when he names his feet Mrs Right and Mrs Left and makes them talk to each other about things he will do with his mother. Larry is only five years old, but sometimes he behaves like an adult person. “…Having settled my plans for the day, I got up, put the chair under the attic window…” he is planing the day, the things he wants to do. He is full of joy that “…feeling myself rather like the Sun, ready to illuminate and rejoice…”. However, he is just a five-year-old child, whose thought is too strict and sometimes too mirthful. For instance, he said “Man for man, I was prepared to compete with him any time for mother?attention.” Mother can be said to be a mediator between son and husband. She will immediately mediate when the two persons seem to quarrel. Also, she tried to connect them, which was well proved first when she adviced father to take the son for a walk when father just came back, hoping to better the relationship between them. What?s more, she said “You mustn?t play with Dad?s toys until he lets you,Lerry. Daddy doesn?t play with yours”. She didn't say directly, but she implied that father should make a step into the son?s world , communicating with the son and showing his love. In addition, mother is humorous. When the boy asked his mother why they did not have a new baby, mother said that they couldn?t afford because a baby would cost them “seventeen and six”. Here “seventeen and six” showed mother?s a kind of humor. Father in the text has little words and does not know how to get along with others nor show love to his family especially at the beginning when he just returned from the war. But at last he makes a change and forms the united front with his son. . Sonny is a new baby of the family , because of whom the relationship between the narration and his father finally gets changed. In the story, the author depicted with galore humour the boy?s “Oedipus Complex” referring to Freudian psychoanalysis. For example, at the beginning the young boy dislikes his father that he says to his mother “Mommy, do you think if I prayed hard God would send Daddy back to the war?” Besides, he wants to send his father to Home where he thinks is good for his father though he does not know what Home is. More, he wonders why Sonny wouldn't sleep at the proper time and thinks the new baby demand too much attention of his mother, so, whenever his mother turnes back he will wake the baby and sometimes even pinch the baby to keep him awake. It sounds ridiculous and mirthful. However, it, to some extent, proves what Freud says, “... that all sons unconsciously desire to kill, even if they love, their fathers.” The plot of this text is about the psychological change of the protagonist, Larry. It is truly abnormal for a boy to live just with the only woman, which I think is also the reason why he names his feet Mrs Right and Mrs Left but not Mr Right nor Mr Left. And then his father, whom to the boy is a stranger, comes back. What comes next is the conflicts between the boy and his father. But as far as I …m concerned, it is just the conflicts that supply the boy a chance to change or a transition to the much normal environment. His sleeping with his father in one bed in the end of the story symbolizes the protagonist?s successful psychological change. Moreover, it coincides the theory of Freud that the confusion of Oedipus Complex will be changed later when son begins to agree with his father and restrain the desire against his father. The text does not have too much conversations but more psychological description of the young boy. The protagonist?s Oedipus Complex is permeated in his thught, words and especially the conflicts with his father. For example , while Larry?s father was fighting in the WWI and rarely visited home, Larry was enjoying himself and all his mother attention was turned to him. Every morning he got up very early, giving Mrs Right and Mrs Left a conversation, after which he would go to his mother?s big bed and talk about his “schemes”. Next, he would go shopping with his mother and take a walk to coutry. All those things have been regular in his daily life, which is disordered by his father?s coming back. At the very beginning, he said”The war was the most peaceful period of my life”. It is a paradox but also foreshadows the conflicts between Larry and his father. When his mother just listened to his father, he interrupted his mother, though just got the words“Do be quiet, Larry. Don?t you hear me talking to your father?”, which also annoied the little boy. Then, the conflict sharpened: when he found his parents slept in one bed and father took up more share of the bed, he kicked his father to wake him. Then one day came the climax of the story: Father was provoked to anger by the boy and shouted to him. Then the boy shouted back angerily and fearly, “Smach your own! Shut up! Shut up!” The language of the text, the part I most appreciate,is vivid, humorous, childish and imaginative. The author is skilled to know well a five-year-old boy?s psychology,thought and words and has so successfully shaped a vivid protagonist。 Besides, throughout the text, the author uses symbolize technics. For instance, in the text in my opinion, the “bed” symbolizes a kind of love. “Aft,er turning me out the big bed, he had been turned out himself”. The protagonist thought that mother turned her love to his father because she refused to sleep with him but with father. After Sonny was born, his father also left the bed and began to sleep with his son, because mother paid all her attention to the new born baby. The protagonist?s sleeping with his father on one bed also symbolized the change of their relationship. They saw the love to each other in their deep heart. As far as I?m concerned, maybe Oedipus Complex or the relative Electra Complex may sound crazy and unbelievable, they, as Freud believed, are normal parts of human psychological growth. And the experience of Larry seems to be the representation of our childhood stories. It raminds people the relationship with their family and stories happened when they were very young, which is also the reason I like this text. Frank O?Connor (1903-1966) was born into grinding poverty in the slums of the Irish City of Cork. He left school at 14 and was largely self-educated. He is generally regarded as one of the 20th century?s great short storywriters. His first collection, Guests of the Nation, appeared in 1931, to be followed by Bones of Contention in 1936, The Stories of Frank O?Connor, and some others. As one of O?Connor?s themes, the problems of youth and adolescence are explored in some of his stories where he expertly describes what can trouble young lives, the early jealousies, fears and complexes. “My Oedipus Complex” is a unique title for the story. Oedipus is a character in the Greek mythology. He was the son of Laius, King of Thebes, and Jocasta his wife. To avoid the fulfillment of the prophecy that he would murder his father and marry his mother, Oedipus was abandoned on the mountains soon after birth and later adopted by the shepherd. Grown up, he unknowingly killed his father. Having solved the riddle of the Sphinx, he accordingly became the King of Thebes, and thus married Jocasta without the knowledge that she was his mother. When the facts came to light, Jocasta hanged herself and Oedipus tore out his eyes. “My Oedipus Complex” is a clever story about a young boy, Larry, who grows up in his own safe world with just himself and his mother. However, when his father returns from WWI, a man whom Larry hardly knows, it is a constant battle between the two for the mother's love and attention. With great gentleness, O?Connor depicts the important business of a small boy –growing up and leaving the self-centered childhood world behind. Father was in the army all through the war--the first war, I mean --so, up to the age of five, I never saw much of him, and what I saw did not worry me. Sometimes I woke and there was a big figure in khaki[1] peering down at me in the candlelight. Sometimes in the early morning I heard the slamming of the front door and the clatter of nailed boots down the cobbles of the lane. These were Father's entrances and exits. Like Santa Claus he came and went mysteriously. In fact, I rather liked his visits, though it was an uncomfortable squeeze between Mother and him when I got into the big bed in the early morning: He smoked, which gave him a pleasant musty smell, and shaved, an operation of astounding interest. Each time he left a trail of souvenirs --model tanks and Gurkha knives[2] with handles made of bullet cases, and German helmets and cap badges and button-sticks[3], and all sorts of military equipment--carefully stowed away in a long box on top of the wardrobe, in case they ever came in handy. There was a bit of the magpie about Father; he expected everything to come in handy[4]. When his back was turned, Mother let me get a chair and rummage through his treasures. She didn't seem to think so highly of them as he did. The war was the most peaceful' period of my life. The window of my attic faced southeast. My mother had curtained it, but that had small effect. I always woke with the first light and, with all the responsibilities of the previous day melted, feeling myself rather like the sun, ready to illumine and rejoice. Life never seemed so simple and clear and full of possibilities as then. I put my feet out from under the clothes--I called them Mrs. Left and Mrs. Right--and invented dramatic situations for them in which they discussed the problems of the day. At least Mrs. Right did; she was very demonstrative, but I hadn't the same control of Mrs. Left, so she mostly contented herself with nodding agreement. They discussed what Mother and I should do during the day, what Santa Claus should give a fellow for Christmas, and what steps should be taken to brighten the home. There was that little matter of the baby, for instance. Mother and I could never agree about that. Ours was the only house in the terrace[5] without a new baby, and Mother said we couldn't afford one till Father came back from the war because they cost seventeen and six. That showed how simple she was. The Geneys up the road had a baby, and everyone knew they couldn't afford seventeen and six. It was probably a cheap baby, and Mother wanted something really good, but I felt she was too exclusive. The Geney?s baby would have done just fine. Having settled my plans for the day, I got up, put a chair under the attic window, and lifted the frame high enough to stick out my head. The window overlooked the front gardens of the terrace behind ours, and beyond these it looked over a deep valley to the tall, red-brick houses terraced up the opposite hillside, which were all still in shadow, while those at our side of the valley were all lit up, though with long strange shadows that made them seem unfamiliar; rigid and painted. After that I went into Mother's room and climbed into the bed. She woke and I began to tell her of my schemes. By this time, though I never seem to have noticed it, I was petrified in my nightshirt, and I thawed[6] as I talked until, the last frost melted, I fell asleep beside her and woke again only when I heard her below in the kitchen, making the breakfast. After breakfast we went into town; heard Mass at St. Augustine's and said a prayer for Father, and did the shopping. If the afternoon was fine we either went for a walk in the country or a visit to Mother's great friend in the convent, Mother St. Dominic. Mother had them all praying for Father, and every night, going to bed, I asked God to send him back safe from the war to us. Little, indeed, did I know what I was praying for! One morning, I got into the big bed, and there, sure enough, was Father in his usual Santa Claus manner, but later, instead of a uniform, he put on his best blue suit, and Mother was as pleased as anything. I saw nothing to be pleased about, because, out of uniform, Father was altogether less interesting, but she only beamed, and explained that our prayers had been answered, and off we went to Mass to thank God for having brought Father safely home. The irony of it[7]! That very day when he came in to dinner he took off his boots and put on his slippers, donned[8] the dirty old cap he wore about the house to save him from colds, crossed his legs, and began to talk gravely to Mother, who looked anxious. Naturally, I disliked her looking anxious, because it destroyed her good looks, so I interrupted him.. In the afternoon, at Mother's request, Father took me for a walk. This time we went into town instead of out to the country, and I thought at first, in my usual optimistic way, that it might be an improvement. It was nothing of the sort. Father and I had quite different notions of a walk in town. He had no proper interest in trams, ships, and horses, and the only thing that seemed to divert[9] him was talking to fellows as old as himself. When I wanted to stop he simply went on, dragging me behind him by the hand; when he wanted to stop I had no alternative but to do the same. I noticed that it seemed to be a sign that he wanted to stop for a long time whenever he leaned against a wall. The second time I saw him do it I got wild. He seemed to be settling himself for ever. I pulled him by the coat and trousers, but, unlike Mother who, if you were too persistent, got into a wax[10] and said: "Larry, if you don't behave yourself, I'll give you a good slap." Father had an extraordinary capacity for amiable inattention. I sized him up and wondered would I cry, but he seemed to be too remote to be annoyed even by that. Really, it was like going for a walk with a mountain! He either ignored the wrenching and pummeling entirely, or else glanced down with a grin of amusement from his peak. I had never met anyone so absorbed in himself as he seemed. At teatime, “talking to Daddy" began again, complicated this time by the fact that he had an evening paper, and every few minutes he put it down and told Mother something new out of it. I felt this was foul play. Man for man, I was prepared to compete with him any time for Mother's attention, but when he had it all made up for him by other people it left me no chance. Several times I tried to change the subject without success.