ANALYSIS OF ‘IX. SPACE AND TIME’

Analyisis of  a section of ‘IX. SPACE AND TIME’ from Autobiography of Red by Anne Carson (1998)

PASSAGE:
Geryon was amazed at himself. He saw Herakles just about every day now.
The instant of nature
forming between them drained every drop from the walls of his life
leaving behind just ghosts
rustling like an old map. He had nothing to say to anyone. He felt loose and shiny.
He burned in the presence of his mother.
I hardly know you anymore, she said leaning against the doorway of his room.
It had rained suddenly at suppertime,
now sunset was startling drops at the window. Stale peace of old bedtimes
filled the room. Love does not
make me gentle or kind, thought Geryon as he and his mother eyed each other
from opposite shores of the light.
He was filling his pockets with money, keys, film. She tapped a cigarette
on the back of her hand.
I put some clean T-shirts in your top drawer this afternoon, she said.
Her voice drew a circle
around all the years he had spent in this room. 

ANALYSIS:

Autobiography of Red by Anne Carson (1998) is a piece of experimental fiction written in verse. It is based on the Greek Myth that follows Geryon and Herakles’s Tenth Labor, where Herakles. The novel re-tells this narrative as a coming-of-age romance in a contemporary setting. In chapter 9 of the novel, ‘IX. SPACE AND TIME’, Carson lays out a scene where Geryon’s mother addresses her fourteen-year-old son her concern that their relationship is growing distant, as he prepares to leave to spend more time with his new friend, Herakles. Geryon is reluctant to discuss her concerns with her. The chapter is slow, mellow and melancholic, shaped by Carson’s use of multiple literary elements, including figurative language, setting and characterisation. 

An Arrettian's Solitude

For alternative version: Linus and the Chimera-Person

There was once a being from planet Arrettia who sat to eat his lunch. He watched the Earthling besides him do the same, using two strange, shiny utensils to eat. They only heard the desert wind that whistled, and then the tools used for bearing food clinking onto the tools used for transporting it into one’s mouth. It was the two of them alone atop the ruins of a lost sanctuary, letting the slowest hours of the daylight pass by. 

Suddenly, the Earthling lifted one of its utensils, intertwined with a portion of the stringy, wobbly feed from its box. It held the utensil towards the curious Arrettian. A nervous murmur escaped the Earthling’s mouth as it held up its food, yet not eating it. Perhaps the Earthling was trying to communicate its distaste for its meal? Perhaps it was an exclamation of being thankful, or maybe it was even offering to share? 

The Arrettian struggled to do anything in return. A moment, and finally the Earthling appeared to give up the interaction, continuing to eat its stringy, wobbly food again. Then, the Arrettian continued the same with his own.

Linus and the Chimera-Person (An Arrettian's Solitude - Alternative Version)

Alternative version of: An Arrettian's Solitude

It’s a good hour for lunch, he thought. Perry L Linus was just delivering mail a few days ago and now he was sharing a lunch break with an alien companion. 

Atop the ruins of a sanctuary in an abandoned city, Linus and the alien both sat. They never conversed; they couldn’t. It was quiet, and the only sounds that accompanied the two were the light desert wind, and the awkward chewing made by the both of them as they ate. On occasion, Linus would take a glance at the alien. They were bizarre in appearance – something like a creature with the body of a vulture, the limbs of an octopus, and the face of a mantis. Linus had no idea such life-forms existed, so he just classified the being as a ‘chimera-person’. 

Insect Repellent and the Stars

It is the smell of a certain kind of insect repellent that takes me to the stars. It takes me back more than ten years; takes me to a riverbank kilometres away from home. I was there in a place just outside of some cabins, surrounded by strangers that accompanied me on that rusty old bus that took us there. It was the place where all that was familiar were my sketchbook, my flashlight, and myself. No buzzing and no troublesome bites – it was only the serenades of distant crickets and the laughter of unfamiliar children from metres away. On those few Spring nights, I lay alone.

The Lights, One by One

The kind of house that Clara lived in was ordinary. It had all its windows closed and every exit shut so that nothing could climb their way in to find her. Hardly any curtains nor blinds were left open, and now almost nothing could watch her from the dark outdoors. Tonight, Clara was the only one inside of her home. 

Clara took in her last spoonful from the now empty plate. It once contained the leftovers that her parents spared her before they left that night, and now her final task of the day was to catch up on her quadratic equations. Mathematics was never her strongest subject at school – she preferred ones that were more flexible and allowed for a greater imagination. She wasn’t excited to return to her room. But, why waste any time? Except to wash her dishes, there was no other use for her staying at the table any longer. She made her way to the sink.

A Bored, Needy Piano

We haven’t spent any real time together in so, so long. What are you doing these days? Always with those notebooks, are you? Always typing away on that little computer, too, are you? All of those other things that occupy you, you and I know I could never compare to – never in my lifetime. Oh, if only I was capable of providing the same variety as the infinite possibilities of strokes you could on a sheet of paper, or surpass whatever superpower a computer wields. A lot of the time I wish you and I could be more than just you instructing me what to sing, and me singing as you play. Do you wish that, too? I could never know.

THERE WAS ONCE A YELLOW HOUSE

One of the places on Earth that I felt about most fondly was the house placed at 23 Dudley Avenue. The address still exists, and you can find it right now if you wanted, but know that the house there now has nothing to do with me. Our old house wasn’t two-storied, nor was it so boxy and sleek. Instead, it was amusingly “L” shaped, and dressed in soft, cheerful yellow panelling. 

It was nearly the end of 2009’s Winter when my family and I started living in that yellow house. Especially for me, this was very exciting. We’d only just come from somewhere a couple of flights away, and for the first time in a while, we stayed at a house that was ours – as in “just for us” – meaning we were relieved of the concern of having anyone else around.