"Maturity" as Told by a Pilgrim

What does Kurt Vonnegut have to say about maturity in Slaughterhouse Five?

Kurt Vonnegut, in his novel Slaughterhouse Five, introduces an antihero protagonist who examples to readers what maturity lacks, as well has its complex relationship with adversity. The audience experiences the life of Billy Pilgrim, who suffers from severe PTSD after experiencing the bombing of Dresden, Germany during World War I. Vonnegut presents a character deeply impacted by trauma, who regresses rather than matures from the adversity he endures. Billy routinely experiences psychological flashbacks that take him away from the current moment he is in, to the point that he is no longer mentally present in reality. Billy describes the moment when he “first came unstuck in time” (Vonnegut, 54), and travels in his mind back to the moment when he was a little boy and first learned to swim. The audiences witnesses as Billy leaves his current situation in the middle of World War I, and reminisces about his "execution" as his dad "was going to throw Billy into the deep end" (54). Then, Billy travels mentally to years past the war, when Billy visits his dying mother who "had caught pneumonia, and wasn't expected to live" (55). Throughout the extent of the novel, Vonnegut tells Billy's life story in fragmented, random parts, with short snippets into the present, as Billy's war-torn mind escapes to other times in his life. The reader struggles to follow this non-chronological pattern, but cannot help noticing that Billy's mind always travels back to the war. Vonnegut describes “crippled human beings” and tragic events (Vonnegut, 191), soldiers who "pranced, staggered and reeled to the gate of the Dresden slaughterhouse" (194), and relays the war through Billy's perspective. He describes that when Dresden was bombed, "the one flame ate everything organic, everything that would burn" (227). This event, when the American troops bombed Germany's city of Dresden, serves as a climactic part of the novel, because it is the moment that sends Billy over the edge. Readers assume that based on the title of the book, which alludes to the name of the shelter in Dresden that Billy stayed in, Dresden's bombing is the event that psychologically damaged Billy to his current and severe state. Billy is desensitized to death, and responds to many horrific deaths with “so it goes” throughout the novel (Vonnegut, 2). After Dresden is bombed, Vonnegut describes that "everybody else in the neighborhood was dead. So it goes." (227). He purposefully repeats this phrase throughout the novel so that it catches the audience's attention, alerting them to a crippling problem. Billy cannot comprehend the weight of death, or of life, because his war experience has overwhelmed him. Billy's mind is like a record player that always scratches in one area, stuck in a pattern that catapults him out of the linear flow of time, and out of reality as well. Billy visits an imaginary planet called Tralfamadore, which is his most obvious coping mechanism. On Tralfamadore, aliens reassure Billy that moments are permanent and can be revisited at any time, which is why death is "just an illusion we have here on earth" (34). According to the Tralfamadorians, a "dead person is in bad condition in that particular moment, but that same person is just fine in plenty of other moments" (34). This line of thinking gives Billy comfort, but escapism is a dangerous tool, and Vonnegut displays that it has no correlation with maturity. Billy's daughter "though her father was senile, even though he was only forty-six-- senile because of damage to his brain" (36). When Billy's wife dies and his son comes back from the war where he served a green beret, Billy is so enslaved to the places he goes in his mind, that he has little response. In fact, "it was generally believed that he was a vegetable" (243). While "Valencia was being put into the ground" (243), Billy's mind "was preparing letters and lectures about the flying saucers, the negligibility of death, and the true nature of time" (243). Billy's adult life is anything but full of mature moments and growth... he is so captured by the idea of Tralfamadore: of a place where all of the pain and suffering life brings is made easier, that he misses crucial moments in his real life. He makes no impact on his children and wife that lead them to respect him. In fact, they must care for him as if he is a child. He embraces a false truth and builds his life upon it, missing real life in the interim. This way of living is impossible to advocate, and requires no integrity or maturity. Escapism and denial sure make the horrors in this world easier to comprehend, but ultimately lead people to miss rich and good moments in their lives, and only backpedal growth.
From his overwhelming amount of flashbacks, it is clear that Billy Pilgrim needs to confront what he went through, because it still plagues him. Billy cannot move on with his life until he addresses the horrible realities he has endured. Through Billy's example, Vonnegut shows that when people experience tragedy, they must confront the truth of what they have endured, or they will be overtaken by their adversities instead of growing because of them. It takes guts to confront our most difficult memories, but if not, how will we ever hope to grow? Vonnegut displays a character who is trapped by trauma, and through this character illustrates that maturity must confront reality and take the time to work through hardship, no matter how difficult. He shows exactly what maturity is not, and reminds readers that someone who is healthy and growing- someone who is mature- lives actively in the present, and sees what is true, although that truth may be difficult to take in. Billy Pilgrim requires real help: probably intensive counseling and years of healing. Yet if Billy does not seek out help, he will never truly be present in his life again, because he is stuck in another world and cannot move forward until he has addressed his traumatic experiences. Mature people do not settle to live enslaved to anything, and strive to be awake to their realities. Shakespeare, Sophocles, Ralph Ellison, and Kurt Vonnegut point out that mature people search for what is true: about themselves and the world around them. Pain must be brought to the surface and made tender again, in order for healing to be possible. If healing never happens, pain will rot within us like a sore that touches everything we do, and we will never become the dynamic individuals we were made to be.

Maturity Unseen

Why is invisibility a sure sign of maturity? Ralph Ellison may know…

Any novel in which a character grows will likely suggest that maturity requires strength, because maturity demands growth, and growth almost always comes from adversity-- and adversity isn’t easy. In his novel Invisible Man, Ralph Ellison displays the weary road that one will inevitably travel as he grows in maturity. This weary road takes strength. In the case of Invisible Man, Ellison’s main character must fight to identify what is true about himself and the world around him in a society that limits him because of his race. Ellison illustrates this when the narrator attends the first successful African American university in America, and learns that even in places known for progression, society remains tainted by corruption and racism. Through the narrator’s story, Ellison depicts a universal truth. The world is full of contradictions, and the road to maturity is messy. However, it is essential that one seeks truth and traverses down that road, even when what he finds opposes society and culture.

Maturity embraces a challenge, as Shakespeare and previous authors have displayed, especially when that challenge proves to be a catalyst for growth. Ellison presents a challenge in his novel that not only grows his narrator, but allows his narrator to find himself. That challenge is this: attempting to discern what is true and what is false in the immaterial sentiments that present themselves in society, amidst the confusion of a selfish and complex human nature. Throughout the novel, the narrator must confront various “group thinks” that claim to promote the truth. One of those “group thinks” comes from the well-known African American university that he attends, and the man who leads it: Dr. Bledsoe. Bledsoe preaches his belief in the African American people, and becomes a figurehead for the entire Civil Rights movement. He promotes that equality among races is possible with perseverance, that his sole mission is to see his African American students succeed in life, and that he himself is proof that with sustained integrity and hope, one can achieve the dream, even with racism present. Naturally, the narrator “believed in the principles of the Founder with all (his) heart and soul, and believed in (the Founder’s) own goodness and kindness” (99), because he had no reason to think differently. The narrator describes that at his college, “in this quiet greenness” (99), he “possessed the only identity (he) had ever known” (99). In this passage, Ellison shows the danger in an organization or group of people who are united around a set of ideals: people find their identity in them. And through this example, Ellison displays the inherent folly in aligning one’s self with a group think: because group thinks are comprised of individuals, they are bound to be corrupt. The narrator trusted in who Dr. Bledsoe was and what he stood for blindly, yet quickly discovers that Dr. Bledsoe lives solely for his own power. When the narrator “bucks against me (Dr. Bledsoe), you are bucking against power, rich white folk’s power, the nation’s power-- which means government power!” (100). The narrator believed in a man with pure intentions, who sought for freedom and equality, and embodied humble character. Yet human nature is not that simple, and certainly not that clean. Through the young narrator’s mistaken belief, Ralph Ellison displays that what appears to be real often differs from what actually is, and maturity must have sharp eyes to spot the difference.

Ellison leads the narrator through various experiences and times of self growth, until he emerges at the end of the novel as one who has grown, and one who is mature. After he has matured and experienced the events of the book, the narrator introduces the concept of “inner eyes, those eyes with which they look through their physical eyes upon reality” (3). (Because the narrator introduces this concept after he has matured, the reader understands the concept of “inner eyes” as an element of maturity). One’s “inner eyes” see past what seems to be, and into what is, and it is through these eyes that a mature person observes the world.  If what is true is what is real, then reality includes all of the selfishness and complexity of human nature, as well as the hope that humans are not reduced to their corrupt nature alone. At the end of the novel, the narrator identifies that “in spite of myself, I have learned some things”  (579). A mature person, despite his own corrupt human nature and the corruption within society, seeks to understand and make sense of the world around him. Even when everyone else sees with their outer eyes, and to them he is invisible. It is better to see what is real than to see what appears to be real, and most of society sees only the appearance. A mature man has no choice but to risk invisibility, if he ever hopes to live a life of substance.

Is He Mature, or Just Strange?

What is Albert Camus's take on maturity in The Stranger?

In light of the previous authors and their viewpoints of maturity, Albert Camus proposes a fascinating and unmatched interpretation of what it means to be mature in his novel The Stranger. Although The Stranger is a younger novel than any of Shakespeare's works, its publication date of 1942 is not so far off that of Tracks, which Louise Erdrich published in 1988. No, Camus's unique interpretation of maturity is not due to its fresh existence as a literary novel itself, but to the author's unique interpretation of life. Along a similar line of thinking as many existentialists, Camus introduces a character whose way of approaching his own world is so logical that no one in his own society understands him. These things about Meursault that separate himself from his peers- both how he thinks and what he does- are proof that a mature person accepts life's disorganized reality instead of fabricating meaning and purpose simply for the sake of feeling secure.
While Shakespeare and Erdrich prompted discussion about life's meaning and a person's purpose in their novels, even illustrating the concept of suicide due to a lack of purpose, never did they propose the idea that one's purpose and meaning in life comes only after an understanding that "nothing, nothing mattered" (Camus, 121). Camus explains that if one does not accept the brutal reality that life is random and his own actions are insignificant, then he is living in falseness. He is living a lie, and a mature person embraces the truth, even if that truth is an uneasy one. When a Chaplain confronts Meursault and attempts to convince him of his belief in God, Camus illustrates this point most clearly. The Chaplain, representing society, asks Meursault whether he really believes that "when you die, you die, and nothing remians?" (117)? Meursault's frank response of "yes" and his utter contentment with his answer knocks the Chaplain off his feet, and spirals him into an attempt to console himself: "No , I refuse to believe you! I know that at one time or another you've wished for another life" (119.) The Chaplain, like all of society, cannot understand how one can look at life without meaning at all, and walk away content. However, Camus does not believe that these other peoples' lives are meaningful, while Meursault's is meaningless. "Everybody knows life isn't worth living" (114), Camus explains, only most people choose to deny it. Thus, those who embrace the truth of reality as Meursault does are estranged, are misunderstood, and are even so far as eradicated because they do not adhere to the lie. At the end of the novel, Meursault's society condemns him to death, because they do not understand him. The idea that life is inherently without meaning, that there is no comforting explanation for the tragedies that may occur or the direction of one's own life, is an extremely difficult one to accept. Camus compares it to a "dark wind" that had been "rising toward (Meursault) from somewhere deep in his future" (121). And when it is realized, the wind "leveled whatever was offered to (Meursault) at the time, in years no more real than the ones (he) was living" (121). According to Camus, truth levels everything, because the truth of reality suggests that nothing is more significant than anything else. If it all is meaningless, then it is all on the same level. It takes maturity to see life for its brutal reality-- it takes strength, but the only other option is to live in foolishness, and Camus stresses that this is worse. For anyone who hopes to be mature, this is not an option. Although Camus's truth is a weighty one, it is not without hope. A life where everything is leveled is an open field, full of possibility up to the creator. When Meursault "opened (himself) to the gentle indifference of the world", he "felt happy" and found the world "like a brother" (122-123). According to Camus, refusing to believe the simple explanations of life that society offers and looking truth in the face is ultimately freeing, and is necessary to live a life of meaning at all. For if one is living a lie, how can he ever hope his life to be worth anything? It is better to accept what is true and run freely than to live confined in the fabricated walls of a lie.
Albert Camus in his novel The Stranger displays reality at its most basic premise: an existence that is disorganized-- one which many try to assign value to using various methods and explanations. In his portrayal of what is true about life, he conveys what is true about maturity: maturity accepts and embraces what is real, no matter how unsettling or difficult the truth may be. Yet Camus offers hope, for in truth there is freedom.

Tracking Down Maturity

What does Louise Erdrich have to say about maturity in her book Tracks?

Author Louise Erdrich presents a unique view on maturity when considered in light of the other three books discussed. East of Eden, Oedipus Rex, and King Lear are all similar in that each of these novels carries the perspective of a white culture, whereas Erdrich’s Tracks is written from a Native American perspective. When I first started this novel, I was excited to see what awaited me. Would her illustrations of maturity be different from those of the other two authors? Does Native America see maturity in a different light than predominantly White cultures? And what similarities would there be between the four? What about maturity is universal?
Well, I was not met with disappointment. Erdrich paints a complex view of maturity in her novel Tracks, which tells the story of a Native American tribe that is being taken over by white people. Specifically, it is the story of the Anishinabe tribe told by two members of that tribe: Nanapush; an older member of the tribe and grandfather to Lulu (who he tells the story to), and Pauline; a half-Canadian Native American who detests the culture which she was born into. Through these two characters, the reader witnesses firsthand the pain, conflict, and struggle that comes when one’s way of life slowly fades, at the same time gaining a deeper insight into Native American culture and its values.

Erdrich seems to use Nanapush as a significant picture of what it looks like to be “mature” throughout her novel, especially in contrast to Pauline. The audience picks up on Pauline’s unreliability as a narrator from the very beginning, but Nanapush “was never one to take notice” of the gossip of those who “fattened in the shade” (9). Here, Nanapush is referencing town gossips- one of which is Pauline- and how he does heed anything they say as factual. The fact that Nanapush is completely indifferent to the drama and false stories of local gossipers- he does not even notice them- demonstrates a maturity and reliability to the reader, in that he does not exaggerate stories for selfish purposes. We can trust what he’s saying- he does not take notice enough to make them up. Pauline however depends heavily on the opinions of people, and is known to “improve the truth”, as Nanapush says at one point in the book. This parallel of the two narrators is significant. Maturity includes a security enough in one’s self, that he does not rely upon the opinions or attention of others to uphold his identity. Nanpush criticizes his son-in-law who struggles with a wrong act he committed: “that’s all you think about! You!” (99). Nanapush is not phased when Eli confesses his unfaithfulness to his wife, and is irritated when Eli spends so much time in self-pity and hatred. Maturity is trustworthy, accountable, and authentic, just as Nanapush demonstrated through his narrations. It also has the depth of vision to see one’s wrongdoings in their full weight, without becoming absorbed in them. Maturity sees a situation for what it is and takes action, which Nanapush urges Eli to do.

Not only is maturity reliable-- it also stands for something. Nanapush always has an opinion and knows where he stands, regardless of whether his opinion is more right or more wrong than another’s in the reader’s eyes. Nanapush has convictions, and he backs them up in action. This is a significant message to the audience that mature people stand for something. They have opinions about subjects that matter, and their opinions are realistic and stem from more than emotion. Nanapush comments that “a strong heart moves slowly” (102). Strength of heart to me demonstrates maturity, and his comment about “moving slowly” is fascinating, because it goes completely against human nature. When we feel something, we want to act on it: immediately. Nanapush urges that a strong heart waits- it takes its time- to sift through the emotions and the truth of the situation, so that a foundation may build for a real conviction. Maturity is reliable, authentic, truthful, and has a strength to it. It is not formless, but rather, it stands for something. Something well-thought out.

As Erdrich paints her pictures of maturity, one thing she demonstrates more than the other authors is the inherent imperfections within people. Nanapush is undoubtedly the most mature character. He demonstrates reliability, wisdom, has more life experience than any other character, and yet the audience views him in his full humanity. Nanapush lusts for women, acts out of carnal desire at times, is inconsiderate, and demonstrates many more actions that are not so impressive. He admits it too. When reflecting on the entire situation- how the white people attained power over the Anishinabe tribe and how much of the culture was lost- he admits “I should have tried to grasp this new way of wielding influence, this method of leading others with a pen and paper” (210). So stuck in his traditions, Nanapush refused to sign contracts or protest through petitions on pen and paper, because pen and paper are more a part of White culture than the Native American tribe at this point.  He stood for something. Mature. And when looking back, he saw how he could have handled the situation better, how he was not so right as he thought. Mature. Maturity accepts his own faults, and does not expect perfection from others. Maturity is constantly exercising and growing, and does not pretend to be perfect and complete. Erdrich introduces a deep and complex truth: maturity includes inherent brokenness. Because people are broken. But although it is broken, that does not mean it is not powerful. Maturity is needed in this world, and those in his tribe needed it in Nanapush, who many looked to for counsel.

Sight Without Eyes

What is William Shakespeare's take on maturity in King Lear?

In his novel King Lear, William Shakespeare reiterates his depictions of maturity in Oedipus Rex-- then takes it one step further. In Oedipus Rex, Shakespeare illustrates through the story of Oedipus (a man destined to marry his mother and kill his father) that maturity entreats an acknowledgement of reality, although that reality may be brutal. In Oedipus's case, it was. King Lear advocates a similar message, which Shakespeare conveys through the characters Lear and Gloucester, and their journeys to seeing reality as it really is. King Lear banishes his daughter Cordelia after she refuses to publicly profess her love for him, and in doing so, ignores the only daughter who truly loves and respects him. Over and over, Shakespeare declares King Lear to be "mainly ignorant" (4.7.74), using similar terms to emphasize just how "old and foolish" the King is for what he did to Cordelia (4.7.98-99). Since foolishness directly contradicts maturity, we know that the author is sending a message about what maturity looks like through Lear's actions. Shakespeare claims Lear as "foolish", for desiring the "glib and oily art" of public affirmation from his daughters (1.1.258), at the expense of sincerity. He banished Cordelia for refusing to compete with her sisters in praise of their father, although the sisters' adoring words were not authentic. Regardless of Lear's exact motives, they were foolish and inherently selfish, and Shakespeare is clear to point that out. Based on this passage and Shakespeare's descriptions, the reader can conclude certain truths about maturity. Maturity sees through falsehoods, upholds truth, and values truth above self-want. 

Similarly to his King, the character Gloucester also banishes a child who does not deserve it. Gloucester believes the lies of his "loyal and natural" son Edmund (2.1.98), who deceitfully leads his father to believe that his brother is a "strange and fastened villain"(2.1.98). Edmund gives Gloucester false information, and out of pride, anger, and an "old heart" that is "cracked" (2.1.106), Gloucester banishes his other son. Only when both of Gloucester's eyes are gouged out, does he see the tragedy of his "follies" in believing Edmund's lies (3.7.111). Gloucester later makes the ironic remark: "I stumbled when I saw" (4.1.20)---

Meditate on that one for a second. "I stumbled when I saw." 

Both King Lear and the nobleman Gloucester, in their high and comfortable societal positions, were deceived, manipulated, and unwise. However, when the King vanquished his power to his insincere daughters and was thence treated as a worthless madman, and Gloucester's eyes were gouged out, they both were able to see reality in a way that they never did before. Shakespeare's message here about foolishness and maturity is scandalous. Shakespeare deliberately paints this picture where "the madmen lead the blind" (4.1.54): an idea that seems uncomfortable, unnatural, and backwards according to society. Shakespeare himself called it "time's plague" (4.1.54), yet what he is insinuating holds deep truth to it. People, by nature, are foolish. Oftentimes, those who are the most comfortable in society- who are rarely challenged, who experience little hardship- see the least. They are blind to those truths that adversity brings about. King Lear affirms this idea later when, stranded in a storm with little clothing (a situation a poor person would likely find himself in at some time), he determines to "feel what wretches feel" (3.4.39), for he had "ta'en too little care of this" (3.4.37-38). By that last line, Lear admits to some deep self-reflection as the leader of a country, in that he did not pay enough attention to those whose needs he did not notice. 

Oftentimes, until we are in our lowest places, do we come to full humility. As Shakespeare said, "neither wise men nor fools" are greater than the elements of a storm (3.2.15), or even the elements of their own humanity that lead them to stumble. In our pride, we fall, just as King Lear and Gloucester fell both position-wise and as fathers. It takes real maturity to admit to our own mistakes, and especially our own eternal propensity to make them. Maturity means acknowledging our own shortcomings, and living in that kind of humility. That is real leadership. 

In King Lear, not only does Shakespeare reemphasize the importance of acknowledging truth within the world and ourselves; he admits that sometimes we are blind to these truths, and we can do nothing about it. This seems like a paradox, as Shakespeare challenges us to see and then tells us that we cannot always, yet his theory really works in fluid relationship. We must live in humble acknowledgment that we are blind creatures, and then and only then, are we able to start to see. Maturity entreats both sight and humility, and the two work together as essential elements of growth. 

Maturity Lies East of Eden

What does John Steinbeck have to say about maturity? 

John Steinbeck in East of Eden reveals through his characters that maturity requires an admission of the truth, no matter how ugly. East of Eden tells the story of humanity’s ancient battle with good and evil through the generations of a family, whose members continually grapple with the nuance of themselves and of the world around them. These complexities are made possible by the never-ending clash between good and evil that confronts each character; who must choose how he responds to it. Steinbeck ultimately illustrates that in order to grow, a person must address the truth that both good and evil exist within the world and within people, else they will live in an eternal chosen ignorance.

In order to fully present this idea of truth working in partnership with growth, Steinbeck presents a character who grows in age but not in wisdom, due to his aversion to reality. Aron Trask seems mature in his commitment to the church and college, yet lives his entire life in denial of the truth that his mother is a prostitute, and his father a liar. Aron "couldn't stand to know about his mother because that's not how he wanted the story to go" (Steinbeck, 576), and his inability to grapple with this reality leads him to deny later ones. The girl who Aron loved- Abra- feels unseen by Aron, who "made someone up, and it's like he put my skin on her" (493). She explains further, saying that Aron's projected girl is "nothing but pure- never a bad thing" and "I'm not like that" (493). For a long time, Abra struggles against the false image that Aron has created of her, until Abra's mentor pinpoints that "nobody is (solely pure)" (493). When Abra's mentor clarifies that truth about humanity, that no one is only one side, Abra is able to identify that even as an adult, "Aron never grew up" (575). She clarifies that "when we were children we lived in a story that we made up" until one grows up, and "the story wasn't enough... because the story wasn't true anymore" (575). Real maturity requires an admission of the truth. The truth that people are more complex than just good or just evil, and that the world is that way too.

Aron "wouldn't have any other story" (576), and because of this choice, he saw only a part of reality.

"It's worse, but it's much better too", to discover that the world is different than one always perceived. It takes real guts to grow from being a child, for maturity is an uncomfortable process. Yet it is that great battle between good and evil that spurs freedom. If people were only black or white- if the world was only black or white- then all would be enslaved to their innate makeup. There would be no risk, and no responsibility to "carry a man's greatness if he wanted to take advantage of it" (520).

The Truth About Oedipus

What does maturity look like in Oedipus Rex? 

Remember that one man who killed his dad and married his mom? Oh yeah, that guy... rough...

We all recognize the infamous story of Oedipus Rex. Doomed to murder his father and marry his mother, Oedipus proves the futility of attempting to outrun fate. While the story undoubtedly explores issues such as free will and human control, Sophocles' dramatic work also offers great insight into the process of human maturity. At first glance, it seems that Oedipus gains no ground. Not only does Oedipus fail to thwart his tragic fate despite honest efforts; he has multiple opportunities to confront and possibly escape the truth of his situation, and instead he continues "living blind" (Sophocles, 72). Although Oedipus was unsuccessful regarding his situation, Sophocles reveals through his character's transition from naive to aware that maturity has less to do with outward circumstance, and more to do with the recognition of reality. 

If maturity were simply a matter of adult decision-making, Oedipus has it down. After first learning of his proposed fate, Oedipus makes the difficult choice to leave his home and (adoptive) parents in order to save them all from their "now more desolate" future together (67). Each choice that Oedipus makes is made in earnest, yet the future ahead of him involves only tragedy. He still is a murderer and "in wedlock cursed" (66), yet Oedipus does not stay the same. The real growth lies in the revealing of reality. As Oedipus peels back the layers of truth and discovers who he really is in the midst of a desolate situation, he may be doing the most mature act possible. With utmost strength, Oedipus utters "let the storm burst... for nothing can make me other than I am" (59), and in this statement Sophocles suggests a profound truth about maturity. Sophisticated people confront reality, no matter how dark, no matter how difficult. They confront the reality of who they are, for nothing can make them other than they are, and they confront the reality of the world around them. Let the storm burst. Truth is the catalyst, and it takes maturity to acknowledge that it exists, but we must. What that truth may be, is another matter altogether...