“That is the Egg of the Phoenix,” said Galaad. “From far Araby it comes. One day it will hatch out into the Phoenix Bird itself; and when its time comes, the bird will build a nest of flame, lay its egg, and die, to be reborn in flame in a later age of the world.”
“I thought that was what it was,” said Mrs. Whitaker [45–46].
Even though the reader may be confused by both the status of the magical elements in the story or the characters’ attitudes towards them, and thus alienated from the protagonist’s point of view, the liminality of such an effect is weakened by the possibility of attributing it to the influence of the mythic narrative on the text.
The other attribute of “liminal fantasy” which has demonstrated its empowering potential in the context of “Queen of Knives,” namely, the “metaphor concretization” is also possible to trace in “Chivalry.” Still, due to the crucial role of objects which, as the Grail itself, are constituted by a combination of material and metaphoric or metaphysical aspects, it may also be seen as a reversed process, which starts with an affirmation of their tangibility—the Grail being introduced as a second-hand item for sale (36), the appearance of the sword being described in detail (41), and the remaining three artifacts entering into physical contact with Mrs. Whitaker’s hands (45–46). Only then does the mythic or magical character of each object become clear: the heroine explains to an acquaintance that the newly bought decoration “[is] the cup that Jesus drank out of at the Last Supper. Later, at the Crucifixion, it caught His precious blood when the centurion’s spear pierced His side” (37); while Galaad describes his gifts’ origins and properties (41–42, 45–46). However, although the nature of the Grail becomes reaffirmed as metaphysical the moment the knight perceives it for the first time and kneels, as “A shaft of light c[omes] through the net curtains and paint[s] his awed face with golden sunlight, and turn[s] his hair into a silver halo” (39), no further specification of its power follows.14 In the case of the Philosopher’s Stone, the Egg of the Phoenix and the immortality fruit, the third and final stage of the “de-substantiation” process—namely the attachment of the actual metaphoric aspect—can be identified as the artifacts are ascribed auras of three specific feelings: “serenity” (45, original emphasis), “freedom” (45) and juvenescence (46), respectively. Still, if some kind of hierarchy may be applied to the discussed items’ material, magical and metaphoric aspects, it is disrupted by Mrs. Whitaker’s continuous practice of treating them, first and foremost, as decorations. The potentially confusing mixture of their physicality, supernatural character, symbolic meanings and aesthetic features may put the reader in a position close to that imposed by “liminal fantasy,” yet, similarly as in the case of “liminal irony,” such an effect seems mitigated by the presence of specified mythic frameworks to which the artifacts may be related. What is, however, much clearer is the direct as well as indirect empowerment, which they offer to the protagonist.
The Grail’s presence not only enables her to demonstrate her narrative agency by triggering the development of the mythically informed plot which Mrs. Whitaker subsequently takes under control in the ways analyzed in previous sections of this essay, but also grants her an immediate power over Galaad, who pursues the item she owns. Her critical consideration of the artifacts he has to offer further underlines her privileged position, while her peculiar focus on their decorative function manifests her independence from literary conventions. Finally, the fact that Mrs. Whitaker rejects the fruit of immortality, and shows no interest in the actual powers of other objects may be read as evidence of that kind of freedom from egocentric impulses that can only come from an accomplished and integrated identity, often pointed out as the ultimate goal in the process of aging. Still, the consideration of the heroine from the latter perspective may also lead to less optimistic conclusions.
Conclusion
The open character of my speculations about the ending of “Queen of Knives” is to some extent connected with the influence exerted on it by the characteristics of “liminal fantasy,” whose “ideological determination” (Mendlesohn 240) is called “essentially polysemic” (240), which means that the genre expects “the reader to accept the truth behind multiple and competing narratives while refusing to explain which truth it is we should discover” (240). In Gaiman’s poem, the factor of authority is put into question at the very beginning, in the already mentioned motto from Goldston’s book: “The reappearance of the lady is a matter of individual taste” (Gaiman 123). Taken out of its original context, the sentence leaves the reader with an open question, whose “taste” it is: the magician’s? The lady’s? Or maybe that of the audience? A similar confusion is inscribed in the poem’s ambiguous final image of the grandfather during a display of some undoubtedly strong, but unspecified emotion, which might be deciphered as a sense of personal or collective guilt, but also as a confusion in the face of the unknown, a simple longing or some entirely different feeling.15 The discussed scene is closed by two song verses: “You made me love you. / I didn’t want to do it” (132), which earlier in the poem are sung by the grandmother (123), but at the end reappear without any markers of either the quotation or the speaker. Perhaps the dangling phrase points to the emotional tumult of the spouse in mourning; perhaps it is the lingering voice of Pearl, which provides the only available explanation of her disappearance—only the poem’s reader can decide where the “truth” lies.
The doubts evoked by the poem’s ending correspond with those accompanying the whole narrative. It may be laced with the supernatural, but does not have to, while the Queen of Knives herself may be the agent subverting social and cultural mechanisms that affect the aged womanhood, or a victim submitting to them. This analysis, however, has first and foremost been aimed to show that it is exactly Gaiman’s skillful employment of liminality as manifested through the blurred borders not only between the real and the fantastic, but also the subject and the object or the active and the passive. This produces a potential for reflection as well as a promise of change.
In the case of “Chivalry,” the source of the protagonist’s empowerment is not so much liminality per se, mostly because its overall impact on the reader is disturbed by the story’s overt intertextuality, as the mechanisms of “irony” which underline the control of the heroine over the plot, and “concrete metaphors” in the form of artifacts whose presence reveals the integrity of her identity, manifested through the restraint towards the powers put within her reach. However, as both those forms of empowerment rely on the aged protagonist’s detachment, they invite a consideration in terms of the problem of “disengagement,” broadly discussed by gerontologists. While Stuart-Hamilton argues that the original “disengagement theory,” legitimating older persons’ decreasing involvement in the external reality, has been misunderstood as an attempt to erase older persons from the scope of social attention (14), the controversy around it has exerted a strong impact on gerontological explorations of the 20th century (Blaikie 42, 61–62), and the conflict between detachment and empowerment of the aging identity remains unresolved in Western culture. As signaled in at the beginning of this essay, Woodward touches on a specific aspect of the problem, when she depicts the concept of “wisdom” as “carr[ying] the connotation of detachment” (Against 206) and thus depriving aged people of the power of emotion, and especially anger, in the struggle for their agency (205–206). From that perspective, Mrs. Whitaker’s refusal to accept both the weapon which makes its user “unconquerable in war, and invincible in battle” (Gaiman 41), as well as the fruit of immortality and the passions it implies can be read as expressing submission rather than empowerment, especially that the artifacts she does keep signify “serenity” and “freedom” (45), which seem conventionally more suitable for an aged person, and especially a woman. Moreover, when the heroine’s comment that “[Galaad] shouldn’t offer things like that [the rejuvenating fruit] to old ladies. It isn’t proper” (47) may refer not only to her internal sense of decorum
in the light of which her pursuit of eternal youth might violate the memory of Henry (46–47), but also the externally imposed criteria of what is and is not appropriate for aged womanhood. Such an interpretation is to a large extent speculative, however, the otherwise impressive integrity of Mrs. Whitaker is more explicitly disturbed when, after Galaad’s departure, her sole emotional display is revealed to the reader, as she “crie[s] quietly into a Kleenex” and does not leave her house the following day (48). Whether her upset is triggered by an increased feeling of isolation, an unfulfilled longing, resignation or something else, it certainly testifies to the complexity of the female aging experience. Thus, it is to be concluded that even though both texts analyzed in this essay employ the subtle potential of an old woman’s empowerment, they remain affected by Western culture’s ongoing attempts at grasping the coherence of aging, as in “Queen of Knives” the possibility of Pearl’s agency is to be detected among the images of disintegration, while in “Chivalry” the development of such an agency involves an ambivalent treatment of the age factor in Mrs. Whitaker’s identity.
NOTES
1. The factor of transition was brought to my attention during an in-class discussion, thanks to a comment made by one of the students, Marta Zawieja, to whom I owe credit.
2. An attempt at a broader consideration of “Queen of Knives” in terms of “the memoir of a parent” would be far-fetched, the genre being defined by Wallace specifically as “[texts which] often deal with the issues raised by looking after an ageing and increasingly dependent parent” (398). Still, the poem’s autobiographical aspect seems worth underlining.
3. Specifically, Stuart-Hamilton’s discussion of psychological approaches to the process of growing old, as summarized in this essay, is based on the “stage theory” of Erik Erikson (Stuart-Hamilton 13) and Robert Peck’s concepts of “ego differentiation versus work-role preoccupation, body transcendence versus body preoccupation and ego transcendence versus ego preoccupation” (Stuart-Hamilton 13, original italics).
4. According to Diana Wallace’s essay published in 2011, the first decade of the 21st century has brought a growing contribution of poststructuralist and feminist studies to gerontology’s development, as well as feminism’s increasing self-awareness in terms of age-connected issues (408–409).
5. While in Propp’s model the “donor” usually provides the mission-fulfilling character with some kind of means to reach his or her main goal rather than the goal itself, the ultimate award may also be handed to the character in the form of a present (35).
6. Strikingly, the characterization of the grandfather brings to mind the issue of a wasted potential, which is discussed by Tillie Olsen in the context of gender rather than age. Olsen points, among others, to the requirements of the daily routine as a factor preventing people of both genders from developing their talents (94–95, 98–99, 103). The imprint of such a routine and the burden of the day-after-day caring for the family’s well-being permeates “Queen of Knives,” from the description of the kitchen duties’ division (Gaiman 123) and the monotony experienced by the narrator (124), to the mechanical continuation of the family’s previous lifestyle without the grandmother (131). The potential-destroying effect of family life is underlined with reference to the grandfather’s musical talent: “they said he could have been a cantor / but there were snapshots to develop, / radios and razors to repair ... / his brothers were a singing duo: the Nightingales, / had been on television in the early days” (132). He is also depicted as an unfulfilled politician and constructor (125).
7. As a very popular song, “Daisy Bell” has triggered the many informal continuations of the original lyrics. Interestingly, such “sequels” are often preoccupied with gender relations, giving voice to Daisy herself and developing into humorous dialogs in which the she turns the suitor down because of his material situation. A collection of such lyrics presented by Chris Komuves on his website includes even a version involving an exchange of emails (n.p.)
8. The last two songs appear in the poem as sung by the grandfather after his wife’s disappearance, which may point to his need to fill the gap by taking over Pearl’s repertoire.
9. Right after that the woman’s living face is revealed to the spectators, so the scene cannot be interpreted as one of an ultimate disintegration.
10. Olsen’s remarks can hardly be totalized, as they focus to a large extent on the working-class wife and mother; still they may be applied to the characterization of Pearl, at least on a general level. Both Olsen and Gaiman’s protagonists are ageing, married and Jewish by origin; both have grandchildren. The most probable difference between them is Eva’s immigration experience connected with her movement from Russia to the U.S. Pearl is only known to have moved from London to some unspecified place—details such as the Silver and Gold Shred marmalade brands mentioned in the poem (123) may suggest an English or perhaps Scottish setting.
11. Woodward talks about American mass culture, but, taking into account its broad influence, her remarks are worth considering also in a broader context.
12. Another consequence of the digressive structure of the poem is an impression that the present, understood as the timeline of the narrator’s memory, is strongly conditioned by the past—a conclusion corresponding with the cultural tendency to perceive the old age as past-oriented, offering little at the current moment, and virtually nothing for the future (Caramagno 61, Wallace 390–392, 403). Whether Pearl’s surprising and unexplained disappearance is to be read as a confirmation of such an assumption or, on the contrary—a sign that most unexpected things may happen at all times, depends on the reader’s own choice.
13. Richard Gilliam, Martin H. Greenberg and Edward E. Kramer, eds., Grails: Quests of the Dawn (New York: ROC, 1994).
14. Interestingly, the handling of the Grail’s symbolic significance in “Chivalry” goes, up to some extent, against literary and cultural tendencies traced by John Barry Marino, who perceives the gradual movement of the artifact from the realm of spirituality to that of mythology, and next to psychology and secularized metaphor as the reason for the trope’s lasting importance in the 20th century (103, 106). Gaiman’s tale not only suggests the movement in the opposite direction, from an ordinary object to an artifact, but also attaches the power of the said artifact directly to its Christian background, as confirmed by Mrs. Whitaker’s already mentioned description (Gaiman 37) as well as Galaad’s religious reverence towards the vessel (38–39, 47).
15. A number of interesting interpretations of the discussed scene can be found in the already mentioned discussion on the Neil Gaiman Message Board, where Cavenagh suggests, for instance, that the grandfather’s behavior is an attempt to work out the mechanism of the performance which made Pearl disappear (n.p.)
WORKS CITED
Alessi, Justine A., and M. E. McMillan. Rebirth of the Oracle: Tarot for the Modern World. Huntsville: Ozark Mountain, 2005. Print.
Archmage58. Message board entry. 3 March 2005. “‘Queen of Knives’ Q (spoilers).” Neil Gaiman Message Board. Web. 8 August 2011.
Attebery, Brian. Strategies of Fantasy. Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 1992. Print.
Blaikie, Andrew. Ageing and Popular Culture. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1999. Print.
Campbell, Joseph. The Hero with a Thousand Faces. 3d ed. Princeton: Princeton University Press, 2004. Print.
Caramagno, Thomas C. “Suicide and the Illusion of Closure: Aging, Depression and the Decision to Die.” Aging and Gender in Literature: Studies in Creativity. Eds. Anne M. Wyatt-Brown and Janice Rossen. Charlottesville: University of Virginia Press, 1993. 61–81. Print.
Cavenagh. Message board entry. 4 March 2005. “‘Queen of Knives’ Q (spoilers).” Neil Gaiman Message Board. Web. 8 August 2011.
Coiner, Constance. “‘No One’s Private Ground’: A Bakhtinian Reading of Tillie Olsen’s Tell Me a Riddle.” Tillie Olsen, “Tell Me a Riddle.” Ed. Deborah Silverton Rosenfelt. New Brunswick: Rutgers Uni
versity Press, 1995. 271–303. Print.
Feminism in the Worlds of Neil Gaiman Page 37