Wolfe’s “Boom Town” and the Myth of Arcadia
p. 135-144
Texte intégral
1Thomas Wolfe’s short story “Boom Town” first saw print in the American Mercury in 1934. Taken from “K 19”, a manuscript for a novel set aside in 1932, about a Pullman train (Kennedy 248), it was developed and inserted in the posthumous novel You Can’t Go Home Again, published in 1941. “Boom Town” seems to be a good example of the “machine in the garden” pastoral, in which, according to Leo Marx, the intrusion of “civilization” destroys an Arcadian setting—with a 20th-century twist, since for the protagonist, John Hawke, the train holds promise not terror. In depicting the adult John’s return home from New York to a small Southern town to find a sprawling urban space, Wolfe upholds “the ethos of nature” and “rusticity” and perpetuates the myth of Arcadia through various images of the garden1.
2In ancient myth, the Greek land of Arcadia was home to the god Pan, symbol of Nature2. With Virgil, that “bleak and chilly district of Greece came to be transfigured into an imaginary realm of perfect bliss3”; yet his Eclogues open and end on loss, on the regrets of those who were kept from Arcadia4. And Southern pastoral, according to Christopher Rieger, has always been marked by “nostalgia for a bygone era”, a lost Arcadia, whether the antebellum critiques of industrialization and modernization or the Reconstruction era and the late nineteenth century’s nostalgic versions of the Old South, with the sense of a lost golden age pervading5. However, Wolfe, whose preceding major work, the novel Look Homeward, Angel (1929), was seen as critical of the South, nuances his rural Arcadia of the past and complicates the situation he denounces in “Boom Town”; moreover, he gives nature a function. In some respects, then, the story can be likened to what Rieger calls the “ecopastorals” of the Southern Renaissance6.
3Robert Taylor Ensign considers Wolfe to have been “ecocentric”, for he “used the natural world as an anchor for both the structure and the content of his narratives7”. In “Boom Town”, he alternates descriptions of natural environments with the urban sprawl and frenetic activity that spoil the once rustic peace of John’s old town until the earth prevails.
4The new, or “boom” town, which John finds on returning home is associated with the New South. Andrew Nelson Lytle, Wolfe’s contemporary, insisted that he grew up in “the ghostly presence of the older and more civilised America destroyed by the Civil War”, so slow were manners and mores to die8. John has come home expecting to find the community still bound by the old familiar codes, and retains “the memory of all their words, the densely woven fabric of all their histories9”. However, the town is “filled with new faces he had never seen”, and everywhere are “variations of a single chorus: speculation and real estate10”; his old friends and even his family have little time for him, so busy are they buying to sell and buy again on credit. As early as 1922, Wolfe had made such a real estate and development mania representative of the New South in his Harvard play, Welcome to Our City. There had been a cotton mill in Wolfe’s home town of Asheville since the 1880’s, as well as coal mines, and other manufactures, but they are nearly absent from the work Wolfe set in his native region. According to Kent Cave, Asheville’s growth was originally based on tourism rather than industrialism, and differed from that of most New South cities; and in Wolfe’s fictional Altamont, as in the Asheville he knew, the New South sets in with the frenzy of the boom years in the twenties. In “Boom Town”, the effects on the Southern identity of what the boosters call “progress” are made evident.
5The aristocratic planter, one of mythic figures Richard Gray identifies as defining Southernness over the centuries11, ideally eschews self-interest to act for the good of his community. But in the new town “[the] spirit of drunken waste and wild destructiveness […] everywhere apparent” is guided by personal profit and best illustrated by the destruction of a garden and of an inn: “In the center of town […] there was a beautiful green hill, opulent with rich lawn and lordly trees, with beds of flowers and banks of honeysuckle, and surmounted with an immense rambling old wooden hotel12.” The garden’s opulence (“rich lawn” and “banks of honeysuckle”) together with the aristocracy of its “lordly” trees point to a plantation past that the “glorious old place” that is the hotel seems to recreate for its guests.
“It had a splendid mellow dining-room filled with laughter and quiet voices, and unctuous expert niggers, bending and scraping and chuckling with glee over the jokes of the rich men from the North as with prayerful grace they served them delicious foods out of old silver dishes13.”
6The diners may have been travelers from the North, who brought with them, for John, “somehow a marvelous evocation of the whole golden and unvisited world” when he was young; and the hotel may have been “the most delightful place in town” only “for the past forty years14”; but the atmosphere of gracious living and manners recalled with nostalgia is clearly antebellum.
7The narrator chronicles the razing of the beautiful garden as if the New South had spread uniform desolation where lushness and originality once reigned:
“Now they advanced upon this enchanted hill […]. Now this was gone: an army of men and shovels had advanced upon this great green hill and leveled it down to an ugly mound of clay, and they had paved that clay with a desolate horror of hard white concrete, they had built stores and garages and office buildings and parking spaces—raw and new15…”
8The sixteen-story hotel they build among the concrete “seemed to have been stamped out of the same mold as a thousand others throughout the country by some gigantic biscuit-cutter of hotels16”. With the plantationlike garden gone, one might be anywhere. Moreover, profit-obsessed man has become a threat to the environment, which is “as lovely and magical a landscape as the earth can offer”, whereas the “enchanted hill” had exalted it with its harmonious grace17.
9And as the protagonist accompanies his mother to the green slopes of the hillside garden cemetery to visit the family plot, features of the traditional pastoral seem to accentuate the feeling of loss for the past virtues of a rustic South. In Wolfe’s childhood Asheville was a bustling town, equipped with major public buildings and streetcars, as described in Look Homeward, Angel. Yet in “Boom Town”, the town John knew is said only to have been ensconced in quiet leafy streets, which he views from the hill of the cemetery, a middle ground from which he can see both “the deep dense green of the wooded slopes and hollows” and the center of town below, its new parts “explod[ing] from the old design with glittering violence18”. On the hill, John wonders whether the old rural life has changed.
“Below their feet, the earth was still and everlasting as it had always been. And around them in the cemetery the air brooded with a lazy drowsy warmth. There was the cry of the sweet-singing birds again, the sudden thrumming of bullet noises in undergrowth and leaf, and the sharp cricketing stitch of afternoon […] as well as all the drowsy fragrance of a thousand warm intoxicating odors—the resinous smell of pine, and the smells of grass and warm sweet clover19.”
10He is caught up in the spell of that enchanting garden, but it is dedicated to the dead; and when he looks down at the town, it is as if the Old South had suffered another defeat: “The place looked like a battlefield; it was cratered and shelltorn with savage explosions of brick and concrete all over town20.” In contrast to the new ugliness, the remnants of the old town emerge from their gardens, or bowers, as witnesses to a more harmonious life of simple human pleasures:
“[I]n the interspaces the embowered remnants of the old and pleasant town remained, timid, retreating, overwhelmed, to remind one, in all this harsh new din, of foot-falls in quiet streets as men went home at noon, of laughter and quiet voices and the leafy rustle of the night. For this was lost21!”
11The life that now seems Arcadian to John is one which, in the words of Ruel Foster, could “encourage the belief that human processes and natural rhythms are closely associated and that the passage of time shapes and solidifies tradition22”.
12As in traditional pastoral, the question of husbandry is raised in “Boom Town”. Wolfe’s New Southerners have rejected the old values. John’s mother, whose incessant talk of real estate dealings distinguishes her from the ideal of the attentive, courteous Southern lady, believes the cemetery would be the finest building site in town, and would be happy to sacrifice the beauty of the natural scene they are enjoying for more concrete: “[T]hey should have known as much themselves if any of them could have seen an inch beyond his nose—that someday the town would grow up and this would be valuable property! […] This by rights is building property23!” The developers who have marked off “a loneliness of field and pine” nearby and dedicated it “to the glory of the Greater City” that will emerge there are in fact, according to John’s brother “dedicated to cutting your goddam throat and bleeding you white of every nickel that you’ve got24”. The townsfolk defer “in all their staggering speculations” to Rufe Mears, a cocaine addict and ex-convict, in the belief that he has a knack for real estate25. W. J. Cash said that among Southerners of the 1920’s,
“the passion for money-making, pride in and admiration for acquisitiveness, carelessness as to the means employed to the end, and the spirit of calculation in general were all feverishly increasing. ‘Makin’ any money?’ Such would become the almost universal greeting among the more ambitious orders in the towns in these years26”.
13Notions of honor and virtue once basic to the code of conduct in the South were being revised. Accordingly, John, a university instructor in the city, is “not by any standard which his native town could know—‘successful,’ ‘a success’27”, compared to his childhood friend in the boom town who “[m]ade three hundred thousand dollars in the last two months” on speculation28. Thus Wolfe’s pastoral does not, with the native’s return from New York, vaunt the advantages of a small rural town as opposed to the metropolis; his machines in the garden are the concrete mixer and the telegraph conveying information for the banks. He denounces greed and the excesses of a would-be city as leading up to the Great Depression. As John looks down from the cemetery, he ponders the folly of the investors: “They had flung away the earnings of a lifetime and mortgaged those of generations to come […]. Already the town had passed from their possession […], it was mortgaged under a debt of fifty million dollars, owned by bonding companies in the North29.” With John on the green hill in July 1929, the narrator jumps to the Wall Street crash, just around the corner, “which brought ruin to millions of people all over the country30”. Like Asheville, Wolfe’s home town, which was bankrupt by 1931, the boom town in the summer before the crash was “drunk with an imagined victory31”. Moreover, as Richard Pells has pointed out, the Depression was to confirm many American writers’ belief that “the quality of human life under capitalism offered men no sense of community or common experience32”; and in “Boom Town” Wolfe has John reflect that the so-called “better life” only turns the townsfolk into “starved squirrels chasing furiously the treadmill of a revolving cage,” in spite of country clubs and larger cars and houses33. In the less driven pace of the old life one could presumably extend and enjoy the comforts of traditional Southern hospitality and reinforce bonds with family. “The calm eternity of the hills” and the sense of a less rushed past when the men walked home at noon contrast with the hurtling cars and feverish dealing of the new town34. Paul Crosthwaite has shown that simultaneousness in the new world order, as in the business transactions leading to the 1929 crash, was an important modernist theme, and Wolfe suggests that men are not made to deal in that sort of time35. The wilderness-covered hills around the Boom Town represent a lost integrity.
14Thus it might appear that Wolfe shared the longing of the Southern Agrarians for the old certainties, expressed in I’ll Take My Stand. John’s nostalgia for the “bending and scraping niggers” who live in “Niggertown”, in addition to his hostility to change, make Wolfe appear sentimental and regressive on social issues. But his emphasis on the lack of a proper husbandman for what is replacing the gardens denotes a protest against capitalist excesses common in leftist literature in the thirties. And in “Boom Town” the past does not hold only simplicity and order—nor is the present uniformly evil.
15Notably, John recalls the wintry streets of his childhood where “desperate famished lonely men […] dying in the darkness” had come from their cabins hoping “for some haven of comfort, warmth and love” but found only shut doors36. Such hyperbolic treatment of the earlier mountain dwellers’ dissatisfaction with their lot, which led to hopes for “the better life” of the new town (“it was there… that all this madness had been brewed37”), is characteristic of Wolfe’s prose, in which loneliness and death are the main facts of life. Here spiritual death serves as a memento (Et in Arcadia ego), and casts doubt on the myth of a happier past.
16What is more, Wolfe balances the picture of the twenties by showing that the townsfolk were not motivated exclusively by greed in overdeveloping, as John realizes after speaking to his mother: “[T]his ‘great city’ that she spoke of now was the city of her heart, her faith, her spirit—the city of the everlasting future, and her quenchless hope, the fortunate, good, and happy life that some day she was sure would be found here on the earth for all men living38”. Some of these New Southerners see Arcadia in the future; what the reader learns in “Boom Town” shows they are mistaken, but some are guided by ideals as well as acquisitiveness.
17More importantly, Wolfe gives force to the myth of “the Arcadian wilderness39”. His treatment of this extended natural garden contributes to making the story progressive, in spite of its affinities with Agrarian traditionalism. As Faulkner does in Go Down Moses, Wolfe suggests the impossibility of possessing the wilderness, which is not doomed when values erode but defies developers with its “lyrical immensities of wild earth where there was land enough for all men living40”; although it accepted men like the old mountaineers who kept within the balance of sustainability, the last garden foils the profiteers. When the townsfolk have no more room for their buildings, they claim lots in the wilderness around the town and sell them as future artists and writers’ colonies; but the crash ruins the investors before these are built. The vegetation-covered mountains stand “as a kind of rim of sanity to the crazed speculators”, as Ruel Foster put it41, and the order in which the story is told makes it seem that with the crash, nature is vindicated. This illusion, as well as the language of the tale of its victimization, insisting on its awesome character, make nature more than simply a backdrop to the story; and the landscape penetrates the language with which Wolfe ends the passage on the nature-defying townsfolk: “the desolate and barren panorama of their ruin would not be clearly known to them for several years to come42”; the term “panorama” evokes the hills that they tried to defile, “the vast panorama of the ranges of the ‘Smokies’” mentioned earlier43, suggesting just retribution and nature’s role as a subject.
18Finally, the myth of the Arcadian Southern town in which John grew up is annulled by the protagonist’s emerging personal myth—one reminiscent of Wolfe’s personal experience. John resolved to leave his mountain town and see the world at a young age—the train whistle “had come to him […] as a child at night, bringing to him huge promises of flight and darkness44”. The manners and customs of the South did not hold sufficient charms for him then, nor was the town good enough to settle in later: he remains a “wanderer.” And at the end of “Boom Town,” he hears the train whistle again—one recalls Marx’s comment that at the end of machine-in-the-garden pastorals the protagonist either dies or runs away, alienated from society45; in this modernist work John’s escape is to be achieved by the train that typically destroyed 19th century Arcadias: “And something in his heart was saying like a demon’s whisper of unbodied joy that spoke of flight and darkness, new earth he could touch and make his own again: Soon! Soon! Soon46!”
19John’s personal myth is revealed to be that of the disinterested, unattached hero, who travels the earth and possesses it not by buying land or houses but by “touching” the earth, by standing upon it and knowing it—an emphasis on experience lived fully that was to inspire Jack Kerouac. If there is a feminization of the land which he “makes his own” in a form of male conquest, it is non-intrusive compared to the ravages perpetrated by the developers of the New South, who “had leveled hills and bored through mountains”, for their ruin and their children’s47. Wolfe’s message, encapsulated in John’s story, might be: Seek not to amass wealth, experience life to the full, thus assuaging man’s incommunicable solitude.
20Christopher Rieger contends that writers of the Southern Renaissance created new versions of the pastoral that were more critical of the past, and although they retained “the basic pastoral strategy of criticizing present society by a set of purer standards” they tended to be “highly ironic and self-questioning”. His study of post-Depression works by Erskine Caldwell, Marjorie Kinnan Rawlings, Zora Neale Hurston, and William Faulkner establishes them as “ecopastorals” in which the natural environment is brought to the foreground and “natural landscapes, and more specifically wilderness, assume many of the qualities of purity and legitimacy associated with the past in the Southern pastoral tradition48”. For these writers, like the small town for Wolfe, the traditional pastoral setting had come to seem like “a simplified version of civilization,” while their ecopastorals dwelt on the wilderness as the site of “real” nature—there they sought “ethical and sustainable models of a natural network in which humans play […] [a] responsible role49”. I have shown that in its treatment of the hotel garden, the hillside garden cemetery and the wilderness, “Boom Town” seems to mourn a past Arcadia, but I suggest that the short story is comparable to Wolfe’s more critical contemporaries’ longer works in that it questions this Arcadia. If, unlike the authors Rieger studies, Wolfe makes a minimal case for the interdependence of humans and nature, the threatened wilderness that prevails in his story, oblivious to human comfort in its looming bulk of “dense massed green50”, has the legitimacy that the developers lack. And although in Wolfe’s work the mountaineers are giving up their lives in the wilderness for the town, and the leafy bowers of the old center are being been torn apart, he offers an ethical model for dealing with the land—one based on deep though transient experience, not possession, impractical as that may be for developers, bankers, or others of that ilk51.
21“Boom Town” situates Wolfe among his contemporaries: long numbered among the protest writers of the thirties, more recently qualified as an ecocentric modernist, Wolfe shares with the writers of ecopastorals both a social conscience and a receptivity to nature. Moreover, the short story sheds light on the whole of his work, as the Arcadian references associated to the various images of the garden illuminate his favorite themes of nostalgia for a vanishing small-town past and the shaping of identity in conflict and ambivalence.
Bibliographie
Cash Wilbur Joseph, The Mind of the South, New York, Alfred A. Knopf, 1941.
Cave Kent, “Southern Appalachia and the New South Ideal: Asheville as a Case Study in Development”, in National Park Service, Appalachian Cultural Resources Workshop Papers, [http://www.nps.gov/history/history/online_books/sero/appalachian/sec7.htm], last consulted 03/11/12.
Commelin Pierre, Mythologie grecque et romaine, Paris, Bordas, 1991.
Crosthwaite Paul, “Anticipations of the Accident: Modernist Fiction and Systemic Risk”, Textual Practice, no 24.2, 2010, p. 331-352.
Ensign Robert Taylor, Lean Down Your Ear Upon The Earth and Listen. Thomas Wolfe’s Greener Modernism, Columbia, University of South Carolina Press, 2003.
Foster Ruel E., “Thomas Wolfe’s Mountain Gloom and Glory”, American Literature, vol. 44, no 4, Jan. 1973, p. 638-647.
Gray Richard, Writing the South. Ideas of an American Region, Cambridge, Cambridge University Press, 1986.
Kennedy Richard S., The Window of Memory. The Literary Career of Thomas Wolfe, Chapel Hill, The University of North Carolina Press, 1962.
Marx Leo, The Machine in the Garden. Technology and the Pastoral Ideal in America, New York, Oxford University Press, 1964.
Panofsky Erwin, Meaning in the Visual Arts, New York, Anchor Books, 1955.
Rieger Christopher, Clear-Cutting Eden: Ecology and the Pastoral in Southern Literature, Tuscaloosa, University of Alabama Press, 2009.
Virgile, Bucoliques. Géorgiques, Paul Valéry and Jacques Delille (trans.), Dupont Florence (ed.), Paris, Gallimard, 1997.
Wolfe Thomas, “Boom Town”, in Skipp Francis E. (ed.), The Complete Short Stories of Thomas Wolfe, New York, Scribner’s, 1987.
Wolfe Thomas, “Boom Town”, [http://www.unz.org/Pub/AmMercury-1934may-00021], last consulted 16/5/13.
Wolfe Thomas, Look Homeward, Angel, New York, Scribner’s, 1929.
Wolfe, Thomas, Welcome to Our City, Kennedy Richard S. (ed.), Baton Rouge, Louisiana State University Press, 1983.
Wolfe Thomas, A Western Journal: A daily log of the Great Parks trip, June 20-July 2, 1938, Pittsburgh, University of Pittsburgh Press, 1951.
Wolfe, Thomas, You Can’t Go Home Again, New York, Harper and Bros., 1940.
Notes de bas de page
1Buell Laurence, “American Pastoral Ideology Reappraised”, American Literary History, 1, 1989, p. 23. Cited in Rieger Christopher, Clear-Cutting Eden: Ecology and the Pastoral in Southern Literature, Tuscaloosa, University of Alabama Press, 2009, p. 3: “‘Pastoral’ is used in an extended sense, familiar to Americanists, to refer not to the specific set of obsolescent conventions of the eclogue tradition, but to all literature—poetry, prose, fiction or nonfiction—that celebrates the ethos of nature/rurality over against the ethos of the town or city… [including] all degrees of rusticity from farm to wilderness.”
2Commelin Pierre, Mythologie grecque et romaine, Paris, Bordas, 1991, p. 178-179.
3Panofsky Erwin, Meaning in the Visual Arts, New York, Anchor Books, 1955, p. 300.
4See Virgil, first and tenth eclogues. Virgile, Bucoliques. Géorgiques, Paul Valéry and Jacques Delille (trans.), Florence Dupont (ed.), Paris, Gallimard, 1997, p. 50-57, 126-131.
5Rieger Christopher, Clear-Cutting Eden…, op. cit., p. 3-4.
6Rieger Christopher, Clear-Cutting Eden…, op. cit., p. 4.
7Ensign Robert Taylor, Lean Down Your Ear Upon The Earth and Listen. Thomas Wolfe’s Greener Modernism, Columbia, University of South Carolina Press, 2003, p. 13-14.
8Lytle Andrew Nelson, “The Working Novelist and the Mythmaking Process”, The Hero with the Private Parts, Baton Rouge, Louisiana State University Press, 1966, p. 178-179. Cited in Gray Richard, Writing the South. Ideas of an American Region, Cambridge, Cambridge University Press, 1986, p. 141.
9Wolfe Thomas, “Boom Town”, inSkipp Francis E. (ed.) The Complete Short Stories of Thomas Wolfe, New York, Scribner’s, 1987, p. 121.
10Ibid., p. 126.
11Along with the yeoman farmer, these two figures, Gray posits in Writing the South, have shaped South thought and behavior.
12Wolfe Thomas, “Boom Town”, op. cit., p. 127.
13Idem.
14Idem.
15Ibid., p. 127-128.
16Ibid., p. 128.
17Ibid., p. 127 and 128.
18Ibid., p. 133 and 134.
19Ibid., p. 140.
20Idem.
21Ibid., p. 140-141.
22Foster Ruel E., “Thomas Wolfe’s Mountain Gloom and Glory”, American Literature, vol. 44, no 4, Jan. 1973, p. 641-642.
23Wolfe Thomas, “Boom Town”, op. cit., p. 134.
24Ibid., p. 133.
25Ibid., p. 130.
26Cash Wilbur Joseph, The Mind of the South, New York, Alfred A. Knopf, 1941, p. 267.
27Ibid., p. 121.
28Ibid., p. 128-129.
29Ibid., p. 139.
30Idem.
31Ibid., p. 140.
32Rieger Christopher, Clear-Cutting Eden…, op. cit., p. 27.
33Wolfe Thomas, “Boom Town”, op. cit., p. 139.
34Ibid., p. 139 and 141.
35Crosthwaite Paul, “Anticipations of the Accident: Modernist Fiction and Systemic Risk”, Textual Practice, no 24.2, 2010, p. 339-341.
36Wolfe Thomas, “Boom Town”, op. cit., p. 140.
37Idem.
38Ibid., p. 138.
39Ibid., p. 139.
40Idem.
41Foster Ruel E., “Thomas Wolfe’s Mountain Gloom and Glory”, op. cit., p. 643.
42Wolfe Thomas, “Boom Town”, op. cit., p. 140.
43Ibid., p. 127.
44Ibid., p. 121.
45Marx Leo, The Machine in the Garden. Technology and the Pastoral Ideal in America, New York, Oxford University Press, 1964, p. 364.
46Wolfe Thomas, “Boom Town”, op. cit., p. 141.
47Ibid., p. 139.
48Rieger Christopher, Clear-Cutting Eden…, op. cit., p. 4-5. Rieger’s corpus: Caldwell’s Tobacco Road, God’s Little Acre, You Have Seen their Faces; Rawlings’s The Yearling, Cross Creek, Hurston’s Their Eyes Were Watching God, Seraph on the Suwanee; Faulkner’s Go Down, Moses.
49Faulkner’s, Go Down, Moses, op. cit., p. 162.
50Wolfe Thomas, “Boom Town”, op. cit., p. 122.
51There was a happy development for a part of the Appalachians: the creation of the Great Smoky Mountains National Park and of the Blue Ridge Parkway during the Depression made “just experiencing” nature possible for tourists. Wolfe, who made a tour of the National Parks of the West in 1938, recorded his experiences in A Western Journal. Featuring notes on what man has made of his environment, it shows the sensuous appreciation of nature possible even from a passenger seat.
Auteur
-
Amélie Moisy
Maître de conférences en langues étrangères appliquées à l’université Paris Est-Créteil, où elle est membre du groupe de recherche TIES/IMAGER. Elle est l’auteur d’une thèse de doctorat, de nombreux articles, et d’une monographie sur Thomas Clayton Wolfe, Thomas Wolfe, L’épopée intime (Belin, coll. « Voix américaines », 2002). Son travail sur Wolfe l’a menée à étudier des fictions autobiographiques et la littérature de l’excès. Elle a communiqué et publié des articles sur d’autres écrivains américains, depuis Nathaniel Hawthorne et Jack London à Tennessee Williams, à Anne Sexton, Barbara Kingsolver et George Saunders. Dernièrement elle s’est penchée sur la vision sociale des écrivains du Sud des Etats-Unis des années 1930 et 1940, contemporains de Wolfe, tels que Erskine Caldwell et Marjorie Kinnan Rawlings.
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