Ma as the true heroine of Room

From the start of this novel, I always could sympathize with Jack, but I never strayed from the sense that, while Jack serves as the narrator, it is Ma’s story he is telling. She is the one who has undergone the full extent of the entire traumatic experience—from being captured and initially trapped before Jack was even born.

When Jack some along, it’s more that he is an extension of Ma than anything else (Mr. Mitchell mentioned a word sandwich of Jackandma…). This is evident in points where he can’t imagine being away from her, or thinks it’s totally weird that she was awake while he was asleep. 

It’s true that as he grows up—especially as he grows accustomed to Outside, that this “jackandma” will crumble. He must, inevitably, achieve independence for this novel to be truly satisfying, I think. But that still doesn’t negate the fact that Jack was brought, by Ma, into her story of capture and isolation. She is the one who really underwent and understood her experience. In many senses, Jack is just along for the ride.

thoughts on Ma and Jacks future

So now that Ma and Jack are out, the difficulty of their situation in a sense becomes more complex. Not only is returning to the Outside an enormous change for Ma—especially considering the fact that it has been seven years since she was “put” and many things may have changed in that time; it is an unimaginable thing for Jack.

It might almost be a tempting dynamic for Ma to automatically lose some of that closeness she felt to Jack when they were both confined alone together in Room. She now has a whole array of other people who love her and want to place demands on her time, and it would be easy enough for Jack to feel incredibly jealous of her attention. 

In a similar strain, Jack is going to need a lot of help, support, and constant supervision to function in this entirely new world. This, I imagine, will demand most if not all of Ma’s energies. I kind of feel for her here, because—although I never doubt that her love for Jack is sincere and extremely strong—she had a life before Room that she must be desperate to return to, and taking care of a frightened dysfunctional five-year-old is certainly not part of that.

I hope that Jack and Ma can retain the closeness of their relationship outside of Room. But I also hope for Ma’s sake that she can find happiness for herself—beyond simply caring for Jack.

Memory of Saccharide Endings

So I know from class discussion that I am by no means the only one who cringed internally reading the end of Memory of Running. Despite this novel generally being of a completely different type and genre than my usual reading material (I can't remember the last time I read a New York Times bestseller), I had been enjoying it until McLarty's slap-in-the-face TV ending.

One of the things that I found to be interesting about this novel was that Smithy is so different from the typical TV (or hollywood, or comic book, or New York Times bestseller) image of a hero. He isn't shiny or obviously charismatic or even very compelling (at least not before he gets going on his ride). In fact, in many ways he is extraordinary in his ordinary-ness.

Other characters as well seem to break out of what a reader might expect. It's nice that the primary love-interest of the novel is between two unconventional oddballs (I mean that in an endearing and unoffensive way) Smithy and Norma. Now, even that obviously growing romantic connection between the two of them was giving me a hint of sickly sweet aftertaste while the novel was in progress. To be honest, I never cared much for Norma, who I always saw as being clingy and needy despite her assertions of physical independence. So I was never all that moved by the possibility of a love connection between her and Smithy. I tolerated it, but was never really sold on the idea.

Needless to say the ending took my teetering ambivalence and pushed it over the side of that cliff. It was too fake, too sweet, too neat and clean. I wanted Smithy to find resolution to his journey himself. To come to terms with the loss of his Bethany and his parents within himself before making the decision himself to return, victorious, to his life and to Norma (if thats what he chose--and I was expecting and prepared for him to choose that.)

That Norma showed up, out of the blue in L.A. (with impeccable dramatic timing no less), de-emphasized Smithy's prominence as a protagonist and chipped away at his accomplishments. At least that's how I see it. Even turning a blind eye to the cheesy-ness, I still think of this ending as McLarty taking the easy way out.