Tag Archives: Rytkheu

Depictions of Pyl’Mau (Mau) – In Three Phases

How does the novel’s portrayal of Pyl’maus perspective change over the course of the novel? While we are not to tokenize Pyl’mau as the only central woman character, are there any take-aways about gender dynamics in the novel?

There are three major phases of Pyl’mau in the context of the novel: 1) Pyl’mau, married to Toko, without any contact with John; 2) Pyl’mau, still married to Toko, but having met John;  3) Pyl’mau, having lost Toko, and soon thereafter married John.

From what we know of the “Phase 1 Pyl’mau,” she dearly loved Toko, even though she was initally terrified as an outsider to Enmyn.

Phase two Pyl’mau, to me, is the most interesting. We learn the most about Pyl’mau in the relatively short phase two, because the narration zooms into her perspective. In the very last scene between Pyl’mau, Toko, and John (before Toko’s death,) “Pyl’mau didn’t interrupt the men’s conversation. From time to time, she would get up, add some more duck to the plate, and stealthily move her eyes from one to the other. And the insistent thought was rattling around in her mind: Why can’t a woman do as a man does? Why is what he’s allowed not given to her?” (108). This key passage follows the men’s conversation about the fact that they both did not catch lakhtak this year, so we see a clear contrast between the men’s practical productivity, and Pyl’mau’s quiet but constant work, as she keeps putting food on their plates. It is also one of the most explicty passages in which we see the inequality between men and women, but only because we are briefly seeing her perspective. Phase Two Pyl’mau, she also contemplates having multiple husbands, since she knows men who have multiple wives. My main take away is that in this Phase two Pyl’mau, we as readers are fortunate to see some of her true, and normal human desires.

However, Phase Three Pyl’mau, whom we see for bout the last 170/330 pages of the Novel, seems to show a different personality (not necessarily because she has changed, but because of the lack of her narrative perspective). She is constantly at work, preparing meals for the village, caring for her children, or helping John. She is a crucial character practically, yet we no-longer get glimpses into her actual perspective. We see her outward emotions, as depicted through the narrative of the semi-omniscient-semi-John perspective, but I don’t believe we ever see her inner thoughts again for the entire latter half of the novel. What does this mean about how we should perceive John’s relationship with Pyl’mau? She, along with Orvo, is the most sympathetic character, yet within the narrative structure, we tragically lose connection with her as a real human.

An Emerging Leader?

One aspect that struck me while reading the last section of “A Dream in Polar Fog” is the great extent to which John integrates into the Chukchi community. Even more importantly than just integrating into the community, he becomes a leader of the people and also serves as their representative, especially when dealing with white people. By the end of the story, John promotes the interests and image of the Chukchi by ensuring that outsiders understand that “the people of the North… can be not only loyal and obedient guides, but also true heroes” (255). He aims to dispel the western notion of the Chukchi as savages by making it clear to outsiders, that the people should be respected for their understanding of the land and for living in unforgiving conditions. By taking pride in the Chukchi way of life, John make others (and the reader in particular) understand the Chukchi cultural tradition and how they thrive through what some would consider a primitive lifestyle.

As the story progresses, John takes on a greater role in the Chukchi community. While he initially completely depends on others’ help, he learns to provide for the tribe and subsequently plays a central role in their survival through his help on animal hunts. He also becomes a leader for the tribe through his further dealings with the white man. Upon John’s encounter with Captain Bartlett and discussion of national land ownership, the other Chukchi find it “strange… to see their own fellow-countryman Sson as someone in a position to discuss this unknown but evidently important business” (279). This marks a major change in John’s relationship with the tribe, as he now bears responsibility as a representative of the tribe’s interests. In the same scene with Captain Bartlett, John also requests the captain “not to use [his] engines,…make too much noise,… or shoot,” as this “frightens off the animals, [leaving us] without food or fuel” (280). The Captain respects John’s request, which underscores how John has the authority to defend the interests of the Chukchi. While John being a white man may have a role to play in the respect that Captain Bartlett gives him, John’s ardent support of the Chukchi interests nonetheless supports his emerged role as a leader for the tribe.

While John appears to have respect from the outside, one question I had at the end of the story is whether the Chukchi people consider him a leader. What intrigues me is how Orvo has few reservations about having John leave (and in fact encourages it), despite John becoming a key part of the community. I am eager to hear what others think about Orvo and John’s relationship and what role that plays at the story’s end.

Olenin vs. John

Comparing The Cossacks and A Dream in Polar Fog – this last section of Rytkheu’s A Dream in Polar Fog reminded me of Tolstoy’s The Cossacks in a couple of ways, but I will discuss two here. First is the way in which two different social classes think about themselves and “the other”. In The Cossacks, Olenin and his aristocratic fellows of Moscow are divided both physically and socioeconomically from the people of the Caucasus. Olenin, of course, has his own preconceived notions of the Cossack people, but nonetheless claims to go on this journey with an open mind and lofty goals for self-improvement. At the start of Chapter 21, John says, “The thing that divides us from one another is stereotypes about others and wrong ideas about ourselves… I think that the biggest mistake might be this: Each nation thinks that it’s the only one that lives in the right way… In itself, the idea is harmless. It even helps keep order in a society. But when a nation tries to change another’s way of life forcibly, that’s when things go wrong” (Rytkheu 222). I believe this to be true in the majority of cultures and societies, but do not feel this overlaps with how Olenin feels about the Cossack society. As the story goes on, we see Olenin purge himself of the wealthy values he’s adopted through high society Moscow in an attempt to integrate himself into this new village lifestyle he desires. He finds the simplistic lifestyles and values of the Cossack people beautiful and in this sense, does not appear to believe his aristocratic life is any better than that of the Cossack people. In fact, Olenin is sickened by the life he once led.

Second, the personification of nature appears in A Dream in Polar Fog as it does in The Cossacks. Also, in this same chapter, Orvo says, “…man starts to believe that he is the strongest and the smartest, and that he is the only master of the earth. And this is how it goes, for a time. But then, nature, Narginen, the Outer Forces, take away all the extraneous things… This is the kind of storm the Outer Forces use to clear away all that can lift man about them… It’s as though Narginen is reminding us: I’m master here, and it’s only on my sufferance that man lives here at all…” (Rytkheu 230). At the bottom of page 229, it is noted that *Narginen is defined as “the external forces that guide all life”. In The Cossacks, Olenin states, “Perhaps in her I love nature, the personification of all that is beautiful in nature; But I do not have a will of my own, and what loves her is some elemental force passing through me all of God’s world, all of nature presses this love into my soul and says: “Love” (Tolstoy 148). Olenin’s quote here shows that nature is stronger than him and therefore has control over him and his love for Maryanka. In this instance, the Narginen Orvo references, to me, seems relatable to the elemental forces Olenin mentions.

 

On Cultural Assimilation

I think after reading The Cossacks, a question on many of our minds (or mine, at least) is how can someone assimilate into another culture? Maybe not a step-by-step process, but is it possible to completely adopt customs and ways of life former alien to you? A Dream in Polar Fog certainly addresses these questions and presents a view quite different from the one presented by Tolstoy. I’d like to explore this idea more, while keeping in mind that just by reading someone else’s words, I am bringing my own biases and former understandings to this discussion, which is just something I think is worthy of being aware of.

To start, after this portion of reading, it appears that for all intents and purposes, John has assimilated into the Chukchi community: he marries a Chukchi woman (both in his conceptualization of marriage and in the Chukchi understanding), he hunts with the other Chukchi men, he shares his gifts and supplies with the other members of the community (unprompted and even unexpectedly), and even supports the ideas of communal living and common good to a further extent than Armol’ in the case of purchasing a whale boat individually versus as a collective. Recognizing these facts of how John acts does not place a moral judgement on them. It is not objectively “good” or “bad” that he adopts values and behaviors of another group of people. But it is a marked change in how John thinks and acts that should be acknowledged for his personal adaptation, and growth in understanding and ability to learn new things. I am personally impressed and would judge his change and rationale for that change as overall “good” (in simplest terms). He makes informed, rational decisions, “Stay here forever?…These people had been so good to him, and had shown the kind of magnanimity he would not have expected in the world he came from” which stem from a choice to realign his values with those of a community to whom he owes a debt of gratitude and his life in many ways (129).

But I especially appreciate Rytkheu’s manners and methods of highlighting the complexity of ideas of inclusion, assimilation and what it means to “belong.” Orvo, in particular, provides a counter-opinion to (primarily Armol’s and even John’s) doubts about the efficacy of cultural conversion. Instead of calling the other person’s views wrong, Orvo questions them, “[if we drive John off] what about Pyl’mau?…What danger is there in a cripple? You’re not afraid of him, are you?” (161). In so doing, he and so Rytkheu, question the premises for these gut reactions of “white people are bad for the natives, they ruin everything they touch, they will cause the native’s demise and never truly be able to understand them.” (Also see Orvo’s thoughts on page 139—very interesting.) Ply’mau also voices doubts about John’s assimilation, “You’re a white man, and you need these things more” (159) but also acts as John’s foil in accepting John, his way of life, and teaching him Chukchi ways (as opposed to John accepting her way of life) in mixed actions from washing her face (page 131) to questioning how their daughter could possibly not be ‘real’, “As you see, this baby is real enough, and I’m sure that Tynevirineu-Mary will fly” (211).

This reflection only touches on a variety of events/themes that could be explored much more in depth (the significance of Tynevirineu-Mary, especially her name, how Rytkheu may or may not present his own opinion in Orvo’s point of view, Armol’s jealousy and what that means, Ply’mau’s role her own questioning of cultural assumptions), but I was very interested in how it all works together, and especially the idea of judgement (having just read a multitude of The Orient opinion articles in response to “I am Brett Kavanaugh”). There are also a lot of other ideas I had, from comparing Mr. Carpenter to John (notable page 146-149) and views on religion, and questions of “who benefits” from these interactions. Anyway, looking forward to hearing everyone’s thoughts on these topics and others.

One question I had, that I would like to put out there before I forget, is on page 169, are they talking about children killing their parents because the parents are no longer self-sufficient and so are a drain on resources? Or am I misreading this?

Imagery of Fire, Imagery of Ice: Rytkheu’s Portrayal of John’s Crew versus the Chukchi People

This week’s reading of Yuri Rytkheu’s A Dream in Polar Fog opens with a quick developing narrative about John MacLennan, a Canadian university dropout, and his near death boating accident in the Russian arctic sea off the coast of Chukotka. In order to develop the scene within the first few chapters, MacLennan utilizes imagery such as “blasts of icy wind” and “frosty air” that “surge” through the “ice strip,” a description of the ever-freezing waters that surround the boat (Rytkheu’s chap. 1,2). Rytkheu’s utilization of cold and unforgiving diction about climate and topography suggests that the coast of Chukotka is strong, frigid, and even isolating. As for the MacLennan and his fellow sailors, Rytkheu’s utilizes imagery of fire and warmth, which ultimately differentiates these Canadians from the region they newly inhabit. For example, beginning chapter two, Rytkheu describes crew-members “Hugh and John” as “on fire for explorers’ glory” (2). Then again after John’s accident, he is referenced as a body that “suffused with fire,” with a “hot stream pulsating in his wrists” (2). Rytkheu continues to reference John’s state of “fiery pain” for the duration of this chapter, which directly precedes John’s introduction to the three Chukchi that agree to bring him to Anadyr after learning of his physical state. Up to this point, Rytkheu’s utilization of hot and uncomfortable imagery distinguishes John and his crewmen from the frozen regions that surround them.

 

With all this said, I do find an interesting divergence in Rytkheu’s use of imagery in describing the Canadian crew versus the Russian environment. At the beginning of chapter three while Grover notifies the “three Chukchi” of their task: to “deliver John MacLennan to Anadyr’, wait there until he is recovered, and then bring him back here,” one of the Chukchi named Toko “looks over” at John and notices his “icy, cold eyes” (3). Rytkheu emphasizes this moment, harping on the fact that “Toko could feel John’s star pierce him through, giving rise to a strange chill in the pit of his stomach” (3). Note Rytkheu’s in-depth description of John’s frigid stare. John no longer represents a hot, fiery force; instead, he is now cold and somber in relation to those around him, giving off a chill that “not even the fiery run could chase away” (3). I find it very interesting that while there is a complete transition in John’s nature from warm to frigid, there also exists a reference to something “fiery,” but this time “fiery” describes the rum offered by The Chukchi. It is interesting to think of not only the purpose of this change in Rytkheu’s differentiation between John’s crew and the people Chukotka, but also the implications that this transition has on John’s placement in and among the Chukchi. Could this adoption of regional characteristics, i.e. ice-cold features, be a form of foreshadowing John’s budding relationship alongside his Chukchi acquaintances? Or perhaps that both peoples are on track to connect with each other more connectively as they set out to begin this month-long trek. I would love to hear your thoughts and comments!