"The Things They Carried" by Tim O'Brien is written as a striking sequence of recalled and retold stories that not only depict the horridness of the Vietnam War but also explore the human heart. One of the major themes in the book is that of the conflict between one's individual needs and the pressures of society. The obligation to go along with the norm is a powerful motivation. In the short story "On the Rainy River," O'Brien struggles with the dilemma of whether or not to run away from the draft. His conscience and instincts tell him to flee; yet he fears losing the respects of his parents, he fears the law, he fears ridicule and censure (42). It is the fear of shame that drives men to the war to kill one another.
They carried the common secret of cowardice barely restrained, the instinct to freeze or hide, and in many respects this was the heaviest burden of all [...]. They carried their reputation; they carried the soldier's greatest fear, which was the fear of blushing. Men killed, and died, because they were embarrassed not to. (21)
They are scared, but the deep, overpowering sense of guilt and especially "fear of blushing" cause them to conceal their true emotions with a mask of callousness. They try to repress their confusion and fears of the chaotic, savage, and horrendous reality of war by becoming a part of that horrendousness. The formerly innocent and impressionable young men become cynical, apathetic, inhuman, unfeeling individuals who cut fingers and tongues off of death bodies for lucky charms and look down their nose at death.
Tim O'Brien's blunt prose, though chaste, successfully conveys the intangible burdens that the soldiers carried and delivers the appalling reality of the war. In most parts of the book, the tone is bitingly brash and candid, which insinuates the audacious, clinical attitude of the men towards life and death. The raw depiction of the war is chilling and fascinating at the same time. His absorbing narrative aims at truth divested of ornament or exaggeration with precise observations that are sensual, keen to the essence of smell, sound, and sight. The specificity of observed physical details suggests that the experience has made an indelible impression on the young soldier:
His jaw was in his throat, his upper lip and teeth were gone, his one eye was shut, his other eye was a star-shaped hole, [...] the skin at his left cheek was peeled back in three ragged strips, his right cheek was smooth and hairless, there was a butterfly on his chin, his neck was open to the spinal cord and the blood there was thick and shiny and it was this wound that had killed him. (118)
As real and vivid as these images are, the boundaries between facts and fiction are blurred at places within this piece of rendering memories. For example, in the very first chapter, the emotions reeling in Lieutenant Cross's guilt-stricken mind when he attributes Lavender's death to his negligence are explored as if from a third person omniscient narrative mode. Later in the book, after recounting incidents that lead to Kiowa's death, the author himself admits: "The piece has been substantially revised, in some places by severe butting, in other places by the addition of new material. [...] Norman did not freeze up or lose the Silver Star for valor. That part of the story was my own." (154) Fiction and nonfiction blends together to, as O'Brien states it, "get at the truth when the truth isn't sufficient for the truth."
Thank you :>
They carried the common secret of cowardice barely restrained, the instinct to freeze or hide, and in many respects this was the heaviest burden of all [...]. They carried their reputation; they carried the soldier's greatest fear, which was the fear of blushing. Men killed, and died, because they were embarrassed not to. (21)
They are scared, but the deep, overpowering sense of guilt and especially "fear of blushing" cause them to conceal their true emotions with a mask of callousness. They try to repress their confusion and fears of the chaotic, savage, and horrendous reality of war by becoming a part of that horrendousness. The formerly innocent and impressionable young men become cynical, apathetic, inhuman, unfeeling individuals who cut fingers and tongues off of death bodies for lucky charms and look down their nose at death.
Tim O'Brien's blunt prose, though chaste, successfully conveys the intangible burdens that the soldiers carried and delivers the appalling reality of the war. In most parts of the book, the tone is bitingly brash and candid, which insinuates the audacious, clinical attitude of the men towards life and death. The raw depiction of the war is chilling and fascinating at the same time. His absorbing narrative aims at truth divested of ornament or exaggeration with precise observations that are sensual, keen to the essence of smell, sound, and sight. The specificity of observed physical details suggests that the experience has made an indelible impression on the young soldier:
His jaw was in his throat, his upper lip and teeth were gone, his one eye was shut, his other eye was a star-shaped hole, [...] the skin at his left cheek was peeled back in three ragged strips, his right cheek was smooth and hairless, there was a butterfly on his chin, his neck was open to the spinal cord and the blood there was thick and shiny and it was this wound that had killed him. (118)
As real and vivid as these images are, the boundaries between facts and fiction are blurred at places within this piece of rendering memories. For example, in the very first chapter, the emotions reeling in Lieutenant Cross's guilt-stricken mind when he attributes Lavender's death to his negligence are explored as if from a third person omniscient narrative mode. Later in the book, after recounting incidents that lead to Kiowa's death, the author himself admits: "The piece has been substantially revised, in some places by severe butting, in other places by the addition of new material. [...] Norman did not freeze up or lose the Silver Star for valor. That part of the story was my own." (154) Fiction and nonfiction blends together to, as O'Brien states it, "get at the truth when the truth isn't sufficient for the truth."
Thank you :>