Journal #17: Kate Chopin Part I

"The voice of the sea is seductive; never ceasing, whispering, clamouring, murmuring, inviting the soul to wander for a spell in abysses of solitude; to lose itself in mazes of inward contemplation.
The voice of the sea speaks to the soul. The touch of the sea is sensuous, enfolding the body in its soft, close embrace."

This passage is found in chapter VI of The Awakening, and is striking initially... but the last part of it appears again at the end of the novel, which made me take particular notice of its significance. In the novel, the sea represents freedom in more ways than one. It represents an awakening itself. Edna Pontellier emerges in the beginning as a woman who is somewhat subdued, and submissive, but has begun to view herself in a different manner. She is recognizing a whole, sensuous, independent person inside of herself, and learning and thirsting to make due on her own, without the help of anyone else, particularly any man. Consider that... then consider learning to swim. Here's this woman who has been splashing about clumsily for years, always aware that there is a helping hand nearby, but wishing she could just do it on her own. Every time, she simply gives up and reaches for a hand. All of a sudden, she does it on her own... She swims! And it seems easy! How could she have had such a difficult time of it for so long? All that time, she could've done it on her own, but knowing there was an assisting hand nearby, she never really tried.

Edna's learning to swim is a metaphor for her awakening. All that time, she was a sensuous, independent woman, but never realized her "position in the universe as a human being" and recognized "her relations as an individual to the world within and about her." The sea is a symbol also, as it is a vast, unknown body, which is at the same time intriguing and frightening, and can give life or consume it... The moment when Edna learns to swim, she feels free and alive, and wants to swim for a long time, and far, even though she gets tired. She overestimates her strength in the excitement of it all, just as she seems to inevitably do with her new found inner "freedom." She doesn't know what to do with it... what to make of it, and has somewhat clumsy time of it. There is beauty mixed with chaos, and grace intertwined with recklessness... whether we consider her learning to swim, or her awakening unto independence and sensuality.

This is all coming out in a sort of chaotic manner, I suppose, but if I were to close my eyes and think about the subject at hand, that's the only way I could see fit to describe it. The whole story of Edna has a sort of turbulence to it, in which the reader is happy for her, and judgmental of her, and rooting for her, and damning her... or maybe only one of these, or two, or one at a time, or all at the same time. It really depends on the reader. One may sympathize and identify with Edna, while another may exclaim at her selfishness and judge her for abandoning her responsibilities. As Edna's eyes are opened to new ideas, new things... an onlooker is all at once intrigued by the beauty of it, and nervous for the danger in it. As Mademoiselle Reisz put it, some have the wings for it and some don't. Only the strong ones don't come crashing back down to earth. The same could be said for a swimmer. An over-ambitious new swimmer may fail to pace herself, and if she is not strong enough, she will grow fatigued and drown.