WOMEN
CHARLES BUKOWSKI
English Module Project
RUC Winter 2014
Project group:
Martin James McNally (48980)
Elvin Misimovic (49247)
Mikkel Svanborg (49779)
Characters: 116.613
Project tutor: Ebbe Klitgård
Danish Summary
Introduktion
Dette projekt udforsker hovedkarakteren Henry Chinaski i Charles Bukowskis roman Women fra
1978. Denne karakter er bredt anerkendt som værende en kvindeundertrykkende alkoholiker der
udnytter kvindekønnet til at tilfredsstille sine egne seksuelle lyster. For videre at kunne undersøge
denne fejlede karakter har vi baseret vores analyse på både Sigmund Freud’s psykoanalytiske
koncepter Thanatos og Eros samt Simone de Beauvoirs eksistentiel-feministiske begreber. Disse
teorier danner ramme for en litterær analyse som har til at formål at udarbejde en forståelse for
karakteren og hans gøren i de mangfoldige og forskelligartede forhold han udlever med
kvindekønnet igennem romanens handlingsforløb.
Problemformulering
Hvordan reflekterer karakteren, Henry Chinaski, i Charles Bukowskis roman Women, de
freudianske koncepter om Thanatos og Eros, og hvordan relaterer dette til hans forhold til
kvindekønnet undersøgt med Simone de Beauvoirs eksistentiel-feministiske optik?
Metode
Ved en mobilisering af Freuds Thanatos og Eros begreber har vi udarbejdet en dualistisk
portrættering af Chinaski med udgangspunkt i udvalgte eksempler fra hele værket der henholdsvis
illustrerer de to instinkters forekomster og den indbyrdes og evindelige kamp i karakterens sind.
Dernæst har vi anvendt De Beauvoirs eksistentiel-feministiske begreber vedrørende Herre-Slave
forhold, Transcendens og Immanens, Ond tro, Facticitet og Moder Jord til at belyse de vekslende
magtforhold i Chinaskis forhold. Vi har i denne analysedel taget udgangspunkt i de tre mest centrale
forhold han udlever i løbet af romanen som alle hver især giver et nuanceret billede af Chinaski
samt de kvinder han er sammen med.
Sigmund Freud
Som sagt er Freud’s koncepter om Thanatos og Eros blevet benyttet til at udforske romanens
hovedkarakter, som et splittet individ drevet af en både modsigende og gensidig dualisme imellem
koncepterne, som underbevidste instinkter, der styrer hans opførsel, lyster og formål. Hvor
Thanatos afspejler et dødsdrev og en evindelig stræben efter eksistensens endeligt, med døden
positioneret som livets eneste formål, afspejler Eros, i kontrast, et livsdrev og en stræben efter en
bekræftelse af mening og en eksistens beliggende i livet med henblik på overlevelse og forlængelse
af eksistensens uundgåelige endeligt. Thanatos er derved et koncept der stræber mod en afklaring af
menneskets ellers uforklarlige selvdestruktive tendenser, alt imens Eros leverer en afklaring af
menneskets livslyst og benægtelse af døden. Disse to koncepter indgår dernæst i en evig stridighed
imellem hinanden, og danner en forklarlig ramme og kausalitet for menneskets opførsel grundet i
psyken.
Simone de Beauvoir
De Beauvoirs teori tager udgangspunkt i den splittelse der gennem historien er blevet konstrueret
mellem de to køn. Mandens suverænitet er konceptualiseret i en Herre-Slave dialektik som danner
basis for den teori vi har benyttet os af i vores litterære analyse af forholdene mellem Chinaski og
de kvinder han er involveret med. Underliggende for forståelsen af denne teori og dens anvendelse i
praksis har vi yderligere brugt nogle andre begreber som forklaring på de spændinger og de
vekslende magtforhold der opstår i et Herre-Slave forhold.
Thanatos og Eros
Den primære betagelse ved benyttelsen af Freud ligger i kompatibiliteten imellem koncepterne og
Chinaski som karakter, hvorved romanen tydeliggør Chinaski som et individ drevet af Freud’s
fremlagte instinkter til en sådan grad, at de flyder til overfladen igennem hans opførselsmønstre, og
instinkterne derved ikke længere er udelukkende underbevidste, men derimod finder sin plads som
evidente, hovedsagelige drivkrafter i karakterens psyke. Vores analyse af Thanatos og Eros som
uløseligt forbundede instinkter har derved påvist, at Chinaski er en karakter splittet imellem sin
stræben imod døden og sin livslyst manifesteret i hans umættelige seksuelle lyster.
Herre-Slave Dialektikken
I vores analytiske arbejde har vi fundet manifestationer af Herre-Slave dialektikken gennem alle de
tre centrale forhold Chinaski gennemlever i løbet af romanen. Med Lydia og Sara positionierer han
sig som den suværene Herre, mens at vi i hans forhold med Tammie ser denne dynamik vendt på
hovedet og Chinaski ser sig selv relegeret til Slave. Hans konstante forsøg på at transcendere sin
egen konkrete situation gennem forskellige projekter, som fx alkohol, undertrykker den anden i
forholdet, kvinden, og dette medfører at hun forbliver i sin egen immanens. På samme måde når
Chinaski møder Tammie, hvis egotistiske og amoralske tendenser overgår Chinaskis, befinder han
sig så i en situation af undertrykt immanens. Dermed er de konflikter og spændinger der opstår i
disse forhold genereret af Herrens og Slavens subjektive, konstante ønske om at transcendere sin
konkrete immanens.
Konklusion
Konklusionen på vores projektarbejde er at Chinaski er en karakter som er præget af en dualistisk
tvetydighed som er tydelig i den omskiftelig interaktion mellem Freud’s koncepter Thanatos og
Eros samt de Beauvoirs teoretiseringer vedrørende transcendens og immanens og deres forhold til
Herre-Slave dialektikken. De to instinkter Thanatos og Eros er både modstridende og gensidige i
deres natur og de er altid til stede i Chinaskis væsen. Konflikten mellem disse to indre kræfter og
deres paradoxale tvetydighed er kilden til mange af de problemer der opstår i Chinaskis forhold til
kvinder. Denne tvetydighed er på samme måde afspejlet i hvordan transcendens og immanens
indgår i et magtforhold med hinanden i Herre-Slave dialektikken. For at Chinaski skal kunne
gennemføre sin suveræne dominans af sin Thanatos er det nødvendigt for ham at undertrykke sin
Eros, som er materialiseret i den transcendente Herres undertrykkelse af sin immanente slave.
»What kind of shit was I? I could certainly play some nasty, unreal games? What was my
motive? Was I trying to get even for something? Could I keep on telling myself that it was
merely a matter of research, a simple study of the female? I was simply letting things
happen without thinking about them. I wasn’t considering anything but my own selfish,
cheap pleasure… I tinkered with lives and souls as if they were my playthings.«
Henry ‘Hank’ Chinaski
(Bukowski, 1978: 245)
Table of Contents
Introduction and Problem Formulation:
1
Methodology
2
Theory
3
Analysis
16
Discussion: The Reciprocal Ambiguity of Instincts and Freedoms
45
Conclusion
48
Bibliography
49
Introduction
This project is centered on an exploration of Charles Bukowski’s main character and alter
ego, Henry Chinaski, in his novel, Women (1978). The character is widely considered to be an
alcoholic womanizer, who often takes advantage of women in a contemptuous and fractious
manner. Our exploration of this ‘flawed’ character will thus be grounded in an investigation,
whereby we will utilize Sigmund Freud’s psychoanalytical concepts of Thanatos and Eros,
and Simone de Beauvoir’s existential-feminism, the theoretical import of which will be
applied to interpret the character of Chinaski through a literary-theoretical perspective. This
approach will be aimed at garnering a more nuanced understanding and classification of the
character as a conflicted individual, followed by a subsequent examination of how this
materializes in Chinaski’s relationships with women. This will be enabled by an examination
of the alternating power-dynamics underscoring the most prevalent relationships between
Chinaski and the women in Bukowski’s novel. On the basis of this approach, we have
composed the following problem formulation:
How does the character, Henry Chinaski, in Charles Bukowski’s novel Women embody
the Freudian concepts of Thanatos and Eros, and how is this reflected in his
relationships with women as seen through the perspective of the existential-feminist
theories of Simone de Beauvoir?
1
Methodology
As evident in our problem formulation, the approach to our research is dualistic in nature and
thus also reflected in our methodology. Women is the empirical source that presupposes the
case study undertaken in this project. In analyzing the main character of Henry Chinaski and
his relationships with women we have chosen two different theoretical approaches. The
character of Chinaski will thus be analyzed by applying Sigmund Freud’s conceptualization
of the psychoanalytical instincts, Thanatos and Eros, the concepts of which will be grounded
in a literary-theoretical approach. The analysis is aimed at illuminating the struggle of these
instincts as they are portrayed within the character in the novel. The second part of our
twofold analysis deals with Chinaski’s troubled relationships, analyzed through the use of the
theoretical framework presented by noted philosopher and existential-feminist Simone de
Beauvoir. The theoretical concepts and terms in question are: the alterity, Master-Slave
dialectical relation, bad faith, transcendence and immanence, facticty, and the feminine myth
of Mother Earth. This theoretical framework will underscore a feminist literary analysis,
focusing on the three main relationships presented in the novel.
It is our intention to develop these analyses holistically by bringing the analytical
conclusions garnered from 1them together in a discussion chapter. The discussion will thus
chain the two different theoretical approaches into one cohesive argumentation aspiring to
demonstrate their dualistic relation to each other. Our theoretical chapters are therefore
presented in continuation of each other in order to illustrate the connection between the
concepts, before the subsequent analyses are executed.
2
Theory
Sigmund Freud’s concepts of Thanatos and Eros
»In the psycho-analytical theory of the mind we take it for granted that the course
of mental processes is automatically regulated by the ‘pleasure-principle‘: that is
to say, we believe that any given process originates in an unpleasant state of
tension and thereupon determines for itself such a path that its ultimate issue
coincides with a relaxation of this tension, i.e. with avoidance of ‘pain‘ or with
production of pleasure.« (Freud, 1920: 4).
The quote above acts as the opening words of Sigmund Freud’s Beyond the Pleasure
Principle, a piece of psychoanalytic writing within which he attempts to further his thoughts
on the nature of the human psyche. This opening paragraph of the text is the starting point of
his investigation, whereupon he builds the foundation for an informed discussion on the
subject, and outlines the nuances and uncertainties regarding our mental processes, and the
causality of our actions. On the subject of the pleasure principle, Freud writes: » […] we take
it for granted […] « (ibid.) and that he finds the pleasure principle to be too singular and
simplistic a thesis and, therefore, in need of further investigation, hence the title Beyond the
Pleasure Principle. He explores what he thinks are glaring holes within the theory, or more
accurately, that there are, perhaps, other factors at play, and hence, concludes that a complete
submission to and understanding of the pleasure principle as the absolute causality of human
behavior would be insufficient and ill advised. But before going into detail with such
insufficiencies, we need to understand what the pleasure principle is.
The pleasure principle is described as a driving force in the mental processes that
impacts upon the behavior of human beings, acting with the purpose of steering them towards
pleasure, and thus, the avoidance of pain. It does so through the relief of anxiety (or
‘Apprehension’), and here it is important to make a distinction:
»Apprehension (Angst) denotes a certain condition as of expectation of danger
and preparation for it, even though it be an unknown one; fear (Furcht) requires
3
a definite object of which one is afraid; fright (Schreck) is the name of the
condition to which one is reduced if one encounters a danger without being
prepared for it; it lays stress on the element of surprise.« (Freud, 1920: 8)
Therefore, we interpret apprehension as a constant, and at times, incomprehensible anxiety
inevitably tied to the meaningless nature of existence. However, it is a condition that comes in
many shapes and forms, from the fear of death to the fear of failure within certain social
settings, and has hence been embedded as an anxiety of a ‘something’, the root of which is
not always known to the beholder. It is this lucid concept, difficult to pin down and examine,
taking the shape of ‘tension’ or ‘anxiety’, which is at the core of the pleasure principle, since
the relief of this anxiety is what results in the acquirement of pleasure and the avoidance of
pain. The aspect of pleasure takes on many shapes and forms ranging from physical, sexual
pleasure and biological fulfillment, to psychological pleasure and a fulfilling state of mind,
the fulfillment of which corresponds with the ignorance or forgetting of the meaninglessness;
or in other words, filling the ‘void’ with a different and more pleasurable ‘something’. These
core concepts are to be understood as part of a fundamental guiding force in the human
psyche, guiding our every move in life. Or at least, that is the thesis that Sigmund Freud is
attempting to challenge and examine further.
Where Freud challenges the pleasure principle is in the misguided understanding of the
concept as absolute ‘supremacy’, as a sub-conscious guiding force within all mental
processes, a psychological be all and end all so to speak. He challenges this notion with the
following logic:
»If such existed, then the vast majority of our psychic processes would necessarily
be accompanied by pleasure or would conduce to it, while the most ordinary
experience emphatically contradicts any such conclusion.« (Freud, 1920: 5-6).
Since not all human behavior is being constantly and immediately rewarded with pleasure,
which it necessarily would was it in actuality guided solely by the concept of pleasure, we can
conclude that the pleasure principle is, in and of itself, insufficient in explaining the nature of
the human psyche. This abrupt dismissal of the pleasure principle can seem premature and
unfounded, but consider for a moment a simple everyday chore such as cleaning the dishes.
4
The pleasure principle would not alone be adequate in explaining such an act. The
interpretation of such an inadequacy is twofold; firstly, cleaning dishes (for most people) does
not grant much immediate pleasure; and secondly, if the pleasure principle was in fact the sole
driving force behind human behavior, would our actions not then be of a completely different
nature? If we were to constantly seek out pleasure, would our actions not then be of a more
animalistic and somewhat anarchistic nature? This is not to say that a complete and utter
dismissal of the pleasure principle should be implemented, but rather that such a concept
needs to be revisited and supplemented, whereby the recognition of additional factors in the
interpretation of our mental processes might be approved.
»Under the influence of the instinct of the ego for self-preservation it [the pleasure
principle] is replaced by the ‘reality principle’, which without giving up the
intention of ultimately attaining pleasure yet demands and enforces the
postponement of satisfaction, the renunciation of manifold possibilities of it, and
the temporary endurance of ‘pain’ on the long and circuitous road to pleasure.«
(Freud, 1920: 6)
Freud thereby introduces the concept of the reality principle which can be seen as a modifier
for the pleasure principle, acting as a survival instinct in its postponement of pleasure and
regulation of the id’s chaotic search for immediate gratification. Were one to indulge in the
longings of the id and attain absolute and unsurpassable pleasure, then all purpose and
reasoning for existence would be terminated. In other words; an attainment of satisfaction and
happiness in its absolute form would cause an end to the purpose of living. The modification
of the reality principle therefore sustains stability and constancy within the psyche by the
negation of absolute pleasure, and hence maintains pleasure as the goal and ultimate driving
force of existence. By never granting us our wishes and fulfilling our utmost desires, we are
forced to keep going in our pursuit of the attainment of a gratification, which ultimately does
is not commensurate with the purpose of survival and self-preservation.
With the inner workings of the reality principle, the pleasure principle is thereby
reduced to a preservation of constancy, the goal of which is to maintain a certain level of
status quo within the pleasure principle, the alteration of which would be perceived, by the
ego, as ‘pain’. Feelings and experiences that would normally be understood as pleasurable
5
could hence be understood as painful, if such experiences were in conflict with an established
constancy. Such a state of unsustainable pleasure could, for instance, be brought on by
repression of certain sexual desires, the sudden fulfillment of which would be unfamiliar to
the ego, and therefore might act as a source of ‘pain’ rather than pleasure. Sigmund Freud
emphasizes, however, that sexual desire is, in principle, surpassed and ungoverned by the
reality principle, acting as a relatively uncontrollable driving force, and an acute example of
the powers of the pleasure principle, and ultimately the id. Although it may grant immediate
pleasure, the fulfillment of sexual desire will nonetheless not result in absolute gratification,
since the fulfillment of such desire will - immediately after its attainment - be modified by the
reality principle, and hence a new search for pleasure will be initiated.
Concomitant with the concept of the reality principle and the maintaining of constancy,
Freud explores the notion of the reality principle being utilized as a defense mechanism in
that it modifies the perception of painful experiences into a feeling of control. Freud thus
explores the act of repetition as a tool for constancy insofar that a painful experience is being
repeated, the perception of which is thus being modified and transformed into a pleasurable or
an acceptable one. This concept is applicable to the functionality of the reality principle,
insofar as a repetitious, behavioral pattern invigorates and attaches a sense of stability to
human interaction. In other words, repetitional behavior is useful in the process of developing
a state of existence identified as acceptable by the ego. Hence, experiences and behaviors
which might be construed by others as being unacceptable or painful will, through the
repetition of the subject, be transformed into a sense of constancy, integrated into an
experience of stability, and thereby pleasurable, or, at the very least, neutral.
After having outlined the faults and deficiencies of interpreting the pleasure principle as
the supreme driving force of the human psyche, Freud embarks upon an exploration of the
the two i subconscious instincts Thanatos1 and Eros as being in constant struggle with each
other within the human psyche. The pleasure principle has thus been laid out as a foundation
for a further examination of the nature of the human psyche. The two instincts are
contradictory to one another in the sense that Thanatos is the death drive, while Eros is the life
drive. In order to enable an understanding of these concepts, we have formulated some
contradictory terms for pertaining the two drives: Thanatos stands for death, destruction, anti-
1
A term not initially used in Beyond the Pleasure Principle but later coined by Wilhelm Stekel, subsequently
becoming a widely recognized term for Sigmund Freud’s concept of the death instincts.
6
sociality, apathy, chaos, and annihilation; while Eros stands for life, creation, sociality,
empathy, harmony, and unity
Freud uses examples from contemporary biology in order to deliver a view of Thanatos
and Eros on a macro level, meaning that he contemplates the inner workings of organisms to
explore the very nature of life as a circle of destruction and re-creation. An exploration of this
sort is not one that this project intends to utilize further (since it is a very broad view on the
terms), the main points and conclusions of which will however remain of importance when
examining the inner workings of the concepts on a micro level, i.e. within the psyche of the
isolated subject.
»It must rather be an ancient starting point, which the living being left long ago,
and to which it harks back again by all the circuitous paths of development. If we
may assume as an experience admitting of no exception that everything living dies
from causes within itself, and returns to the inorganic, we can only say 'The goal
of all life is death‘, and, casting back, 'The inanimate was there before the
animate‘.« (Freud, 1920: 30)
Thanatos is thereby acting as an instinct striving towards death, or an instinct: » […] in living
organic matter impelling it towards the reinstatement of an earlier condition.’« (Freud, 1920:
29) Thanatos is therefore a destructive impulse propelling the subject towards a state of
nothingness, or towards the inanimate, i.e. death. This includes all self-destructive behavior in
which a human being may be inclined to partake, and must hence be understood as a longing
for the return to ‘an earlier condition’. Thanatos must thusly be recognized as prevalent in all
human beings, in the shape of self-destructive acts, meaning acts that must be perceived as
being in conflict with the aim of survival. Freud finds the purpose of all organic matter to be
centered on arriving at its own conclusion, which can be exemplified through acts such as
drinking, smoking, fighting, etc. This, of course, will be understood as the death drive
imposing a longing for physical annihilation, but just as harrowing is the concept of the death
drive imposing a state of mental annihilation, or indifference. The method of such a
destructive behavior is that of repetition, wherein the repetition of behavioral patterns
neutralizes the experiences and implements a sense of immunity towards them. Hence, the
repetition of experiences, good or bad, ultimately renders them ineffective, causing the
subject to then return to an initial state of mind. In other words, the introduction of a new
7
experience will inevitably have an effect on the subject's state of mind, but through a
repetition of behavioral patterns, the subject will gradually allow his self a return to a state of
indifference. A subject can henceforward be content with an otherwise undesirable state of
existence through repetitive behavior granting this state a stamp of approval. According to
Freud this is explained by the very nature of life stemming from nothing and therefore
striving towards a reinstatement of that nothingness. Furthermore, Freud recognizes repetition
as being an inherent element in the fabric of life within all living organisms since he identifies
life to be of a circular nature functioning through reproduction and destruction. This is where
Eros is introduced as an antithesis to Thanatos, and is described as a self-preservative (Freud,
1920: 42) and life-sustaining instinct (Freud, 1920: 44). Eros is hence the desire for life in
different aspects; i.e. self-preservation and reproduction which stands in direct contrast to
Thanatos.
»Shall we venture to recognize in these two directions of the vital processes the
activity of our two instinctive tendencies, the life-instincts and the death-instincts?
And we cannot disguise another fact from ourselves, that we have steered
unawares into the haven of Schopenhauer’s philosophy for whom death is the
‘real result’ of life and therefore in so far its aim, while the sexual instincts is the
incarnation of the will to live.« (Freud, 1920: 40)
Thereby Eros, being the life instinct, acts on behalf of preservation (or survival) of both the
subject and the species. It is constantly striving towards avoiding the conclusion of the subject
and the species by avoiding danger and actively seeking procreation through sexual desires.
Hence it is a force within the subject aiming towards a continuum of life in many shapes and
forms.
Freud further speculates the concepts of Thanatos and Eros to be the only prevalent
instincts of the human psyche acting as the sole driving forces of human behavior (Freud,
1920: 42) and is thusly in a constant struggle with one another, although they additionally can
be of a reciprocal nature in instances of, for instance, sexual objectification, wherein the
subject’s sexual desires includes a desire for the annihilation of the object of said desire
(Freud, 1920: 44). Eros can therefore be viewed as a force driving the subject towards a sense
of harmony, unity, life, etc., whereas Thanatos is a force driving the subject towards chaos,
annihilation, death, etc.
8
Simone De Beauvoir’s Master-Slave Dialectic
Presupposing De Beauvoir’s thesis is the assertion that western civilisations from Classical
Antiquity onwards have evolved in such a way, whereby the ascension of one half of
humanity to a position of absolute privilege and hegemony has necessitated the subjugation of
the other half. That women’s situation2 should have come to be defined as being one of near
compliant subordination to the absolute sovereignty of man, cannot in itself be explicated by
the intrinsic desire of man to make the world in his own image. Neither can the fact that man
has been successful in positing himself as a sovereign subject in his relations with women
account for their passive acceptance of the subservient role designated to them by man
(Beauvoir, 1949: 638). However, according to De Beauvoir, it is also irrefutable that man has
desired to be master of his own destiny; but in the manifestation of his desire he has robbed
woman of her autonomy; she can no longer conceive of her own destiny; her destiny has
become wholly subsumed by his. As De Beauvoir writes:
»Humanity is male, and man defines woman, not in herself, but in relation to
himself; she is not considered an autonomous being [...] she is determined and
differentiated in relation to man, while he is not in relation to her; she is the
inessential. He is the Absolute. She is the Other.« (Beauvoir, 1949: 5-6)
We would here like to draw the reader’s attention to the last sentences of the quotation above
that read »He is the Absolute. She is the Other.« Inscribed in these two sentences is not only
the affirmation of the inequality inherent in the problematic underpinning the historical
relations between the sexes, but also, and of much greater importance, the principal dynamic
underscoring this problematic: that is, the ambiguous nature of the human condition,
understood as being presupposed by the intrinsic division between the Self and the Other as
manifested in the human proclivity towards alterity. For de Beauvoir, alterity is » [...] the
fundamental category of human thought. No group ever defines itself as the one without
immediately setting up the other opposite it.« (Beauvoir, 1949: 6). De Beauvoir’s
2
From the existential notion coined by the French existentialist philosopher, Jean Paul Sartre (1905-1980), in
Being and Nothingness (1943): our human reality is always a being-in-situation; that is, we are always at one
and the same time defined by a combination of what we were, what we are, and what we might like to be.
9
understanding of the category of alterity is aligned with Hegelian 3 phenomenology. Hegel’s
understanding of alterity is firmly positioned within a relation connoting the continuous and
dialectical relationship between interpersonal human experience, and individual, selfconscious desire:
» […] the definitive desire of explicitly self-conscious beings is a “desire of the
other”, that is, we desire to be the object of the other’s desire, and we are
inherently responsive to the experience of being subjected to the gaze of other
self-conscious beings.« (Russon, 2010: 26)
De Beauvoir is in agreement with Hegel’s understanding of alterity, while also claiming that
this fundamental lack of understanding of the true nature of our human condition has
manifested itself in patriarchal societies historical construction of ideologies designed to
subjugate woman. In de Beauvoir’s optic, man has posited himself as a sovereign Self in his
relations with woman, thus denying her all recourse to her subjectivity. Hence, the historical
evolution of woman’s concrete situation has borne witness to her relegation to a position as
man’s passive Other. Indeed, woman’s situation is, according to de Beauvoir, primarily
positioned within a profoundly unethical Hegelian, Lord and Bondage dialectic relation, or
Master-Slave dialectical relation4, as she terms it. Implicit in de Beauvoir’s understanding of
the Master-Slave relation is thus the notion of man and woman being rooted in two dialectical
‘poles’ of hostility - the oppressor and the oppressed - and how these oppositional ‘poles’ are
reflected in the historically contingent philosophical domains of transcendence and
immanence. Man, as the oppressor, enjoys a position of absolute sovereignty in society: his
elevated position is testament to an individual imbued with a pioneering spirit; he is a
dynamic individual who thinks in abstract terms and seeks out universal values and ideals; his
interests lie in creation and accomplishment, which is reflected in the projects he undertakes;
he epitomises reason and intellect; he equates his destiny with that of one wherein he must
continuously forge new futures; he must never lapse into idleness or repetition; thus, his
existence is defined by the singular pursuit of the affirmation and reaffirmation of his
transcendence as a sovereign subject. By contrast, woman, as the oppressed, is defined by
3
4
Georg Wilhelm Friedrich Hegel (1770-1831), German philosopher.
From G.W.F. Hegel’s Phenomenology of Spirit (1807).
10
man in opposition to him as his passive Other; her position is one of resignation and
alienation; she is static and dependent; her activities are confined to meaningless chores and
inconsequential frivolities; she is superstitious and mysterious, lacking in reason and acumen;
thus, her existence embodies the characteristics of servile obedience; she is imprisoned in a
mundane world of repetition and enduring immanence (Beauvoir, 1949: 74-75)
But underpinning this binary opposition is the ineluctable fact that man’s desire to
transcend his concrete situation is wholly dependent on keeping woman bound in her concrete
immanence, and thus suppressing her own desire for transcendence. The Master’s concrete
situation can, then, only be preserved by keeping his dialectical ‘pole’, the Slave, in a state of
permanent subservience. Therefore, woman’s understanding of her concrete situation is
wholly bound up in the subservient role that man has determined for her. (Beauvoir, 1949: 1617). The inequality of woman’s situation as presented in this Master-Slave relation is further
compounded by the phenomenon, whereby woman, as the oppressed Other, paradoxically
accepts her situation, by internalising the position of passive immanence ascribed to her by
the sovereign male subject. De Beauvoir posits, however, that this example of the
phenomenon of bad faith5 can only be understood in its overall context: that is, as a logical
corollary of the inequality provoked by the one-sided concretisation of the notion of the Other
in woman’s relations with the sovereign male subject:
» [...] in the master-slave relation, the master does not posit the need he has for
the other; he holds the power to satisfy this need and does not mediate it; the
slave, on the other hand, out of dependence, hope, or fear internalises his need for
the master; however equally compelling the need may be to them both, it always
plays in the favour of oppressor over the oppressed.« (Beauvoir, 1949: 9)
There is a pertinent question we must ask ourselves at this point: What do the philosophical
domains of transcendence and immanence actually connote for de Beauvoir? For de Beauvoir,
every human being is born with an existential right to the immutable domains of
transcendence and immanence. Furthermore, every human being should allow for the
5
French existential-philosophical notion espoused by Sartre, De Beauvoir et al., connoting an individual, who
feeling pressured by external forces, embraces false values, thus negating his existential freedom to act
authentically; that is, he negates his own subjectivity by seeing himself only as an object, thus choosing an
inauthentic freedom.
11
reciprocal interplay between these two domains in their subjective engagement with their
objective reality. However, in this interplay there exists an immutable ambiguity: that is, that
the freedom we experience in our intersubjective human situation is one fundamentally riven
by conflict. This conflict underscores the tragic condition of the human condition in the sense
that it is wholly derivative of an ongoing battle between the subjective desire to spontaneously
transcend the materiality of our concrete situation, and the realisation that our concrete
situation is often determined for us by forces beyond our control and choosing (Beauvoir,
1947: 25-28).
Thus, it is clear for de Beauvoir that the domains of transcendence and immanence are
conjoined with the perpetual desire of competing individual freedoms to endeavour to become
authentic freedoms, through the repeated enactments of spontaneous projects. In choosing to
transcend their immanence through spontaneously enacted projects, human beings can,
however, never posit such projects as being absolutes. This is because the desire of every
human being to be able to accomplish an authentic freedom through the free choice and
enactment of spontaneous projects is always mediated by an underlying ethical relation: in
their desire to transcend their concrete situation, every human being has to assume the ethical
responsibility that presupposes the potential and actual consequences of the choices they may,
or do, make. Human beings cannot abnegate their moral culpability, if the consequences of
the choices they make in choosing their projects lead to them forcefully positing their
objectives as irrefutable absolutes. Because for a human being to be in a position whereby he
can affirm such abnegations implies the enforcement of ethically untenable practices designed
to coercively suppress the legitimate desire for transcendence implicit in other human beings.
Hence, for de Beauvoir, our human situation is one wholly presupposed by the notion of an
ontological, rather than an absolute, freedom, and also, wholly contingent upon the conflictual
and ambiguous interplay between multitudes of ethically mediated ontological freedoms
(Beauvoir, 1947: 22-24).
At this juncture, it is necessary to explicate the significance of de Beauvoir’s
application of the existentialist concept of facticity to her treatment of the underlying MasterSlave relation. The notion of facticity wholly constitutes the ambiguity that underscores our
human existence inasmuch as our facticity is always in conflict with our desire to transcend it.
The notion of facticity together with de Beauvoir’s understanding of the domain of
transcendence constitute, in addition, the Hegelian dialectic that connotes the roles of
12
oppressor and oppressed found in the Master-Slave relation. Moreover, for de Beauvoir, the
notion of facticity corresponds with her understanding of the domain of immanence inasmuch
as our facticity is bound up in immutable ‘facts’ that always already constitute our concrete
human situation. That is, our facticity connotes an assemblage of the given material
conditions - ‘facts’ - that govern our concrete situation, which have their source in an
admixture of our current, and our past, concrete relations with one another (biological, social,
historical, etc.) (Keltner & Julian, 2010: 50). As we have stated, however, problems can arise
when we try to deny our facticity in order to transcend our immanence without taking into
account the ambiguity that defines our concrete situation. This can be explained by the fact
that transcendence connotes self-consciousness, and to accomplish transcendence is in fact to
accomplish the free expression of a self-conscious desire to transcend our immanence. This is
where the tension arises, as the self-conscious desire to fully transcend our immanence is
always already mediated by the factual ‘objectivity’ of the facticity that constitutes it. In
Beauvoirian terms, this tension is ultimately derived from the incompatibility of the desire of
a human being to recreate anew what they have already created in the past (transcendence),
and the choices a human being makes which always determine who they are (facticity)
(Russon, 2010: 29).
Man cannot accomplish his freedom in solitude, but this desire is fraught with danger,
for he must always compete with his ‘peers’ in order to realize this freedom. As de Beauvoir
writes, man’s life is » […] a difficult enterprise whose success is never assured.« (Beauvoir,
1949: 160). Paradoxically, however, man lives in fear of adversity. He likes to dream of a life
where the conflicted nature of the relation of his being to his existence might one day be
reconciled. His restless and pioneering spirit is the price he must pay for his continued
evolution; to remain true to himself he must ‘so to speak’, remain foreign to the object. But
man dreams of accomplishing serenity and an impenetrable affluence within whose
parameters his consciousness would nonetheless dwell. And it is in the shape of woman as his
passive Other that man can realize these dreams:
» [as] she is the perfect intermediary between nature that is foreign to man and
the peer who is too identical to him. She pits neither the hostile silence of nature
nor the hard demand of a reciprocal recognition against him; by a unique
privilege she is a consciousness, and yet it seems possible to possess her in the
13
flesh. Thanks to her there is a way to escape the inexorable dialectic of the master
and the slave that springs from the reciprocity of freedoms.« (Beauvoir, 1949:
160)
But in ‘possessing’ nature man still feels threatened by it. His possession and eradication of
nature as Other is thus only ever temporary. This can be explained by the fact that man is
never able to wholly dismiss the ambiguity of his carnal facticity. He is always in revolt
against his carnal being. Thus, woman becomes the focus of man’s ire because of the shame
he feels for being carnally and biologically contingent on the her. (Beauvoir, 1949: 165-66).
The ambiguity underlying man’s fears’ thus described converge in the feminine myth of
Mother Earth. Mother Earth discloses a material darkness. She connotes for man his chaotic
destiny. She is death. But Mother Earth is riven by ambivalence. Birth, while it might be
associated with death, is also associated with fertility, with re-birth. It reaffirms fertility.
Mother Earth grants existence the sheen of purification in death. Ergo, man is promised a type
of re-birth in death. He can cease to fear his own mortality. Woman as man’s mythical Other
in the guise of Mother Earth thus becomes an ambiguous figure for him; both frightening and
alluring, disabling and enabling. As de Beauvoir writes: »Woman who condemns man to
finitude also enables him to surpass his own limits: that is where the equivocal magic
surrounding her comes from.« (Beauvoir, 1949: 167).
Moreover, for de Beauvoir, the dualistic ambiguity inherent in the feminine myth of
Mother Earth is manifested in the ‘phallocentric universe’ the sovereign male inhabits,
wherein the male sexual organ has the character of a ‘demi-god’. It symbolizes man’s phallic
transcendence. However, the male ‘phallus’ contains an equivocal truth which man cannot
ignore: it is a constant reminder of his carnal facticity. It invokes shame in him because he
cannot curb the sexual desire it incites in him. His sovereignty as a transcendent being is thus
compromised by his own phallic contingency in the consummation of the sexual act. As
described by de Beauvoir:
»Ejaculation is the promise of death, it affirms the species over the individual; the
existence of the sex organ and its activity negate the subject’s proud singularity.
The sex organ is a focus of scandal because of the contestation of spirit over life.
Man exacts the phallus in that he grasps it as transcendence and actuality, as a
14
means of appropriation of the other; but he is ashamed when he sees it only in
passive flesh through which he is the plaything of life’s obscure forces.«
(Beauvoir, 1949: 181)
Thus, when man cannot ‘possess’ woman in the flesh, her flesh thus becomes a carnal ‘vassal’
of contention. His shame for succumbing to his own phallic desire is projected onto woman in
the resentment he feels for having been ‘duped’ by her. His phallic transcendence is
vanquished. In his desire to ‘conquer and possess’ woman as flesh, he becomes the
‘conquered and the possessed’. His desire to sexually transcend the female body is eclipsed
by woman’s own transcendent, sexual desire. Hence, he becomes enslaved in his own phallic
immanence. As de Beauvoir describes it: »The man captivated by [woman’s] spell loses his
will, his project, his future; he is no longer a citizen but flesh, slave to his desires […] «
(Beauvoir, 1949: 183).
The myth of Mother Earth thus helps man to conceive of woman’s unpredictability
and hysteria as something mysteriously exterior to him. But in doing so, he is ultimately
compromised by the dualistic ambiguity of the concrete situation this myth paradoxically
reflects: woman radiates life yet promises death; she is celestial beauty and malevolent
carnality; woman is the mother who protects, and the mother who destroys (Beauvoir, 1949:
269). Thus, in embracing this myth man is merely flattering himself and excusing his vanity.
This effectuates a profoundly inauthentic and negative relation. Ergo, man’s abiding passion
for the repetition of such relations paradoxically affirms his own isolation and the disavowal
of the tranquility he so earnestly desires. As de Beauvoir writes:
» […] faced with a living enigma, man remains alone: alone with his dreams,
hopes, fears, love, vanity; this subjective game that can range from vice to
mystical ecstasy is for [man] a more attractive proposition than an authentic
relation with another human being.« (Beauvoir, 1949: 269)
15
Analysis
Eros and Thanatos
Using Sigmund Freud as the theoretical foundation and framework, we aim to execute an
analysis of the character of Henry Chinaski highlighting the contradictory and struggling
dichotomy of Thanatos and Eros as two distinct forces within the character piloting his
behavioral patterns. The analysis will be split into three parts, the first revolving around
Thanatos, the second around Eros, and finally, a concluding analysis of the inner workings of
the concepts within the character as both reciprocal and contradictory instincts. The analysis
therefore aims, in its entirety, to gain an understanding of the possible reasoning behind such
behavior as that of Chinaski, engaging in an analysis and conceptualization of both the selfdestructive and sexual patterns of the character. This will be enabled by looking at Chinaski’s
behavioral pattern throughout the entire novel, and also, by highlighting selected sections of
the novel that we find to be particularly suited for analysis.
Chinaski’s Thanatos
»I drank a pint of whiskey and two six packs of beer each night while writing. I
smoked cheap cigars and typed and drank and listened to classical music on the
radio until dawn. […] I’d get up in the morning, vomit, then walk to the front
room and look on the couch to see how many pages were there.« (Bukowski,
1978: 1)
The quote above is from the very first page of Women instantly familiarizing the reader with
the self-destructive behavior of a character living on the edges of society. Drinking constitutes
a substantial amount of Chinaski’s time; seemingly, not a single day passes without the
character turning to the bottle, which together with his smoking, can be labeled as an urge for
annihilation of the self, and is directed towards death as the ultimate goal of the character’s
existence. In the quote above it is apparent that drinking is gradually leading the character
towards his own demise, the vomiting being a clear manifestation of the toll which his
16
drinking habit has on his physical well-being, and the subsequent ignorance of such bodily
warning-signs must be ascribed to both addictive tendencies, and an urge for self-destruction.
The drinking and the urge for self-destruction is not merely an uncontrollable force within
himself, but, additionally, an image he is consciously determined to cultivate. He enjoys being
perceived as a careless and unfazed individual willfully hurdling himself towards death. An
example of this can be found in the following passage from chapter 97, where Chinaski has
engaged in relations with a woman named Valencia:
»She came out with the sherry. It was very cheap stuff.
“Where’s your bathroom?” I asked.
I flushed the toilet to cover the sound, then puked the sherry back up. I flushed
again and came out.
“Another drink?” she asked.
“Sure.”
[…] Then I walked out to the Volks. I got in and drove off. I circled around the
corner, double-parked, opened the door and puked up the other drink.«
(Bukowski, 1978: 271)
This is an example of a character desperately, and quite amusingly, attempting to cultivate the
image of a drunk able and willing to drink anything, while the truth is that his alcoholism has
its limitations. The character is thusly, not only aware, but even appreciative of his inherent
death instinct, and is determined to uphold the appearance and effects of Thanatos as a
substantial component within his perceived identity. Thereby, the drinking habits of the
character function as a manifestation of the death drive within the character, guiding his
behavior towards an annihilation of the self. The prospect of death as the ultimate goal of the
character’s existence becomes increasingly evident in additional instances, wherein the
prospect of death is directly apparent, articulated, and even relished:
»“Here we are,” she said and drove her car into the Hollywood cemetery.
17
“Nice,” I said, “real nice. I had forgotten all about death.”« (Bukowski, 1978:
51)
In this example, Chinaski is pleased by the reminder of death, which further exemplifies
Thanatos as a prevalent instinct and driving force within the psyche of the character, and
contextualizes the life of the character in relation to death, the concept of which could even be
construed as a more desirable state of existence, or rather, non-existence, than that of life. By
articulating death in an appreciative manner, Chinaski integrates the concept as part of his
persona, as the inevitable and desirable conclusion to his existence, the vocalization of which
serves the purpose of upholding the image of himself as a doomed individual contemptuous of
life itself.
»I turned on the light, sat down and typed Lydia a 4-page letter. Then I went into
the bathroom, got a razorblade, came out, sat down and had a good drink. I took
the razorblade and sliced the middle finger of my right hand. The blood ran. I
signed my name to the letter in blood.« (Bukowski, 1978: 37)
Additionally, the death drive is evident within Chinaski to such a degree that he must fulfill
an urge to share his self-destructive and self-mutilating tendencies with the people around
him. The character’s death-wish is, consequently, not merely indirectly apparent, but
manifests itself directly through the articulation of the concept, and the actions of the
character must thusly be understood as a direct longing for death, and a return of the self to a
state of nothingness.
The narrative of the novel delivers a glimpse into the existence of a character the life
of whom is constituted by a seemingly endless repetition of alcohol-abuse and fornication. It
is an existence situated on the edges of society, drifting through and living life as a somewhat
anti-social individual, and as an exemplification of a life lived in exclusion from societal
norms, in a state of complete indifference, wholly dismissive of any illusions of meaning in
life. These components are what form the reader’s view on Chinaski’s existence, the whole of
which, objectively speaking, would considered to be an undesirable state. The character of
Chinaski is, however, content with his existence, not expressing much desire for change of
any kind. This state of satisfaction in a life, which most would not grant much (if any) value,
can be viewed as a product of repetitiouos behavior acting on behalf of constancy, and
18
granting acceptance to otherwise unacceptable constituents, and is thusly, and as a whole,
treated by the ego with a sense of indifference. Since it is within the concept of repetition that
we find the essential core of Thanatos, we must thusly treat Chinaski’s repetitious behavior as
the main catalyst for his longing towards self-destruction and death. By repeating constituents
such as drinking, smoking, exclusion and fornication, the character has managed to grant such
behavior a certain level of validity and acceptability, and has moreover developed the
perception, within himself, of such an existence as being desirable. Furthermore, such
repetitious behavior has attached a certain level of acceptability to otherwise unacceptable
tendencies such as alcoholism and repulsive sexual behavior, and thusly hurled the character
into a state of ethical indifference. In other words, the immoral acts of Chinaski have, through
repetitious behavior, been green-lit by the ego, labeling such behavior as normative, although
being in direct conflict with society’s ideas of morality, i.e. the difference between right and
wrong.
In addition to physical annihilation, and as explained in our theory, such repetitious
behavior can be viewed as aiming for mental annihilation insofar as the act of repetition
constitutes and supports a state of non-development, which is the essence of Thanatos, since
the absence of growth or progress must be perceived as a resemblance of nothingness, and
hence in opposition to the ‘objectives’ of life. Meaning that a reluctance to evolve and instead
ascribe to a state of mental indifference leaves the subject in a state of nothingness, a state
which must therefore be perceived as being in resemblance to that of death. Therefore,
inherent within the concept of Thanatos lies a negation of sensory fulfillment carried out
through the repetition of experiences, depriving said experiences of the initial pleasure
facilitated within the ego, which subsequently leads the subject to chase a sense of fulfillment
no longer attainable, and increasingly diminishing with each repeated attempt. In other words,
Henry Chinaski has acquired for himself a sensory existence of nothingness and indifference
engendered by a compulsive and repetitive, behavioral pattern, a state of carelessness not
dissimilar to that of nihilism that facilitates a complete and utter disregard for normative,
societal morals and norms: A character situated in limbo, and thus, in a perpetual condition of
disregard and dismissal for any kind of development or growth.
19
Chinaski’s Eros
As earlier mentioned, there are certain themes which transcend others; drinking, writing,
gambling, and as the most prominently featured, sex. »”None of us quite know how to use sex,
what to do with it” [...] « (Bukowski, 1978: 181) Chinaski says during a conversation in the
book, but Bukowski as a writer really does have many ideas. The sexual acts in the novel are,
usually, quite graphically depicted, and are sometimes borderline pornographic. Sex is a plot
device, a conversation topic between characters, and both the frustration and resolution of
many of the relationships portrayed in the novel. By applying the concept of Eros we aim to
examine Chinaski’s sexual tendencies throughout the novel, concomitantly exploring the
underlying psychological causality behind such excessive sexual behavior.
The first sentence of the novel introduces Chinaski’s age and the information that he
has not been with a woman for four years (Bukowski, 1978: 1). A couple of paragraphs
further down Lydia is introduced, and the possibility of Chinaski experiencing a sexual
encounter with her is looming. It is noticeable that this is where the novel takes its point of
departure: Chinaski engaging in a relationship with a woman for the first time in four years.
Sex is the motivation for him and it continues to be throughout the novel.
The novel starts unfolding at the point where he meets Lydia, and so does the
character of Henry Chinaski. His sexual needs are in that way also his desire for life. We do
not know much about his life before he meets Lydia, so what we have to go by is the
paragraph in the very beginning where he recollects his daily life: he’s been married before;
he writes every night; and sometimes spends time with an old, neighboring couple
(Bukowski, 1978: 2). While this does not seem like a horrible existence, it does sound
somewhat stale. There is nothing exciting happening, and he is merely following a routine.
There does not seem to be anything energetic or lively about his life, which is also described
in sort of a monotonous way.
So both the novel and Chinaski come to life, so to speak, when there is a possibility to
break away from this way of life which he does through his intimate relations with women.
This is a trend that follows Chinaski’s pattern as his story is told. The way he sustains this
new life is by using sex as a gateway between relationships, thus preserving himself. Because
while he often seems content, there is monotony to be found in his expression, but not any
20
traceable discomfort or dissatisfaction with how things are. Chinaski gives off the impression
that he is comfortable with the status quo, whatever it may be, as long as he gets to do the
things that he enjoys (i.e. drinking, writing, gambling, etc.) he still deliberately seeks to break
out of one situation and into another. But he is simply adhering to his Eros. For while he
pretends to enjoy staleness his pursuit of fulfilling his sexual instincts speak to the contrary.
We see it multiple times: he is with Lydia, and while they are having minor issues he is still in
love with her, but yet he has sex with the girl Lilly he meets at a reading (Bukowski, 1978:
27). Examples like this are manifold: he is infatuated with Katherine but still ends up having
sex with Joanna Dover (Bukowski, 1978: 94). And so it continues as he grabs every sexual
opportunity that is presented to him. He is completely controlled by his sexual desires, as it is
the only tool he has for preserving his sense of life. This adherence to his sexual instincts is a
perfect example of the uncontrollability of the pleasure principle presented by Freud. The
strength of the desire surpasses what obstacle or imposition the reality principle may impose.
The moment before the reality principle sets in, and sexual gratification is within reach, is
really what ultimately matters, and what guides many of his decisions and actions throughout.
In the following passage, the novel presents its reader with a self-reflecting Henry Chinaski,
pondering the reasons behind his excessive sexual desires:
»Was I trying to screw my way past death? By being with young girls did I hope I
wouldn't grow old, feel old? I just didn't want to age badly, simply quit, be dead
before death itself arrived.« (Bukowski, 1978: 73)
Chinaski has a very specific idea of sex. It is what separates him from spending nights
drinking beer with the old couple at his courtyard, and in that way, being old himself. Every
sexual act becomes a proof of life, or at least, a simulated sense of belonging - not being dead
before death arrives.
Another section illuminating Chinaski’s attitude towards death, is to be found in
chapter 30. Here, he is in the woods with Lydia and her sister, and he finds them and their
conversations annoying, so he decides to go for a walk by himself. After a short while he is
lost, and he is immediately consumed by the idea that he might die out there. He fantasizes
about newspaper headlines describing his death in different ways, and after screaming for
Lydia he starts thinking:
21
»It would be nice, I thought, to be back with the sisters, hearing them laugh about
sex and men and dancing and parties. It would be so nice to hear Glendoline's
voice. It would be nice to run my hand through Lydia's long hair. I'd faithfully
take her to every party in town. I'd even dance with all the women and make
brilliant jokes about everything. I'd endure all that subnormal driveling shit with
a smile. I could almost hear myself. "Hey, that's a great dance tune! Who wants to
really go? Who wants to boogie on out?"« (Bukowski, 1978: 84)
Despite only being lost for a short amount of time, Chinaski quickly turns to cowardice, and
romanticizes about all those things that he normally, and mere moments earlier, seemed to
reject. The mere possibility of death makes him yearn strongly for life, and it further
underlines our point regarding Chinaski being driven by his Eros. He wants life, even if it
means reversing all his ideals and opinions. The life instinct drives him into an avoidance of
death, evident in the decisions he makes, which reflect his underlying and suppressed fear of
death. It is why he would change his precious personality in order to escape the woods, or
why he has sex with Tessie, while Debra is out running an errand (Bukowski, 1978: 223). He
is avoiding death, and the way to achieve that is, in most cases in the novel, through the
medium of sex.
It is also prevalent in the fact, that all the women he has sex with are much younger
than him. Chinanski himself is 50 years old, but there is never a woman who is even close to
that age. Their youth represents life, and by having sex with them he can come further away
from death: »I decided to live to be 80. Think of being 80 and fucking an 18 year old girl. If
there was any way to cheat the game of death, that was it.« (Bukowski, 1978: 52)
The above quote describing his fantasy speaks for itself. These young women are the
antithesis of death, and his only way of experiencing these women, and thus experiencing life
in his mind, is by having sex with them. And it is shown in it’s most extreme form when he
imagines himself being 80 and as close to death as possible, whilst having sex with someone
situated at the other end of the age spectrum. The young women thereby become a symbol for
life, which subsequently stands in direct contrast to what Chinaski represents, i.e. death .
As the novel progresses we are shown how Eros consumes Chinaski. It is the very fabric that
constitutes his character, which he ca no longer contain. In chapter 93, he breaks down crying
in front of Debra because he has promised to see the belly dancer, Iris, when she comes to
22
town (Bukowski, 1978: 250). He is full of regret, but just saying no to Iris and staying with
Debra is not an option. His desire for sex governs his entire being and, therefore, determine
his actions over his rationale and his conscience. It not only affects his relationships with
women, but also those he has with other male characters in the novel. When he goes to visit
the poet William Keesing, whom he claims to have much respect for, he asks Keesing’s wife
Cecelia the next day if she wants to have sex with him (Bukowski, 1978: 174). Furthermore,
it leads to a rejection of anything, and any relationship, which does not hold the possibility of
sexual involvement. Later on, when Keesing dies, Chinaski becomes even more interested in
Cecelia. He describes her as: »Durable. A cow of a woman, cow's breasts, cow's eyes. She
could handle plenty. Keesing had had a good eye.« (Bukowski, 1978: 178) But later on, when
it becomes apparent that he has no chance of having sex with her, his perception of her and
her appearance changes, and when he sees her sleeping he simply notes: »She looked fat to
me.« (Bukowski, 1978: 185).
When going through the mail he receives from fans of his work, he discards the ones
from male fans because there is no sexual potential in those relationships. As he says to
himself when throwing out a letter from an aspiring writer who wants to meet him: »The poor
fucker didn't have a cunt. I threw his letter into the wastebasket.« (Bukowski, 1978: 196) The
cause for such behavior once again stems from the prevalent and forceful nature of Eros
guiding his behavioral patterns. So in that sense, it is impossible for him to not pursue a
sexual connection in any situation, as it is his only way of sustaining life.
The Struggle of the Instincts
The preceding analyses laid out how the concepts of Thanatos and Eros manifest themselves
in Chinaski’s character and his life. The dialectical difference between them was outlined.
Each concept explained different aspects of Chinaski in their respective terms. This
discussion proposes to bridge a connection we feel is evident between Thanatos and Eros in a
way that is faithful to the way they are presented by Freud in Beyond the Pleasure Principle.
By taking some of the already presented themes, and using both concepts to expand further
upon them, we aspire to gain a better understanding of the relation between Thanatos and
Eros and how they relate to the character of Chinaski and his activities.
23
Earlier we established, how the sexual act is an active approach Chinaski utilizes to
fulfill his Eros. By having sex he is following his sexual instinct and continually keeping
himself alive. But some of the passages where sex between Chinaski and a woman is
described, form a more nuanced picture of the act than that of pure Eros fulfillment.
In the following section Chinaski is having sex with Katherine. She is one of three women
who he claims to have ever been in love with (Bukowski, 1978: 169), and she is the only one
of all the women in the novel who he contemplates marrying, so it is safe to say that his
relationship to her is grounded in many of the values which are usually ascribed to Eros. Their
sex is described in the following way:
»Then I gave up trying to please her and simply fucked her, ripping viciously. It
was like murder. I didn't care; my cock had gone crazy. All that hair, her young
and beautiful face. It was like raping the Virgin Mary. I came. I came inside of
her, agonizing, feeling my sperm enter her body, she was helpless, and I shot my
come deep into her ultimate core--body and soul--again and again. . . .«
(Bukowski, 1978: 99)
What is supposed to be a reaffirmation of life is described as the direct opposite. Thanatos is
much more present here and the lust for death is vividly described. He is murdering her and
the climax is described as agonizing. This speaks to the duality, which the two concepts of
Thanatos and Eros represent. As the only two instincts present within the human being, they
are in a constant battle with each other, and so it is to be expected that the struggle between
the two would be embodied within the sex act. On one hand, it is the very basis of life and
reproduction, but when performed, it is striving towards the conclusion of life. An almost
identical description can be found when he is having sex with Iris:
»I tried to rip her apart, I tried to split her in half. I watched that strange halfIndian face in the soft sunlight that filtered weakly through the blinds. It was like
murder. I had her. There was no escape. I ripped and roared, slapped her across
the face and nearly tore her in half.« (Bukowski, 1978: 258-59)
Earlier we established how his pursuit of sexual gratification is driven by his sexual instincts,
but it becomes apparent that this is additionally supplemented by the death instinct, once
again with murder being the symbol of Thanatos as an equally present force. As he is
24
controlled by these two instincts, an event of such importance as sex can then not only adhere
to only one of these instincts, since they both demand an equal role in his being.
In the Eros part of the analysis we touched upon, the quote of Chinaski wanting to be 80 year
old and having sex with an 18 year old, and we ascribed this to being illustrative as to how he
is adhering to the Eros part of his instincts. But this particular quote also lends itself to
discussion, as it can be seen as the two opposing forces; Thanatos and Eros pulling in each
direction again. When finding himself close to death due to his age he seeks to infuse and
experience life through sex with a younger person. But as explained above, this is
paradoxical, since the very sexual act is not only a desire towards life. The meeting of 80year-old Chinaski as Thanatos, and the 18 year old as Eros, is sex. And this sex is in turn
equal parts life and death. This confirms Freud’s thesis regarding the role these two instincts
play in accordance with each other.
The struggle within the character between Thanatos and Eros is evident in many
instances, wherein the contradictory instincts pull him in each their opposing directions. As
earlier examined, the drinking habits of Chinaski can be attributed to the death instinct
prevalent within the psyche of the character. Furthermore, there are many instances in which
his drinking gets in the way of his sexual desires:
»Her body was amazing, glorious, Playboy style, but unfortunately I was drunk. I
did get it up, however, and I pumped and pumped, I grabbed her long hair, I got it
out from under her and ran my hands through it, I was excited but I couldn't
finally do it. I rolled off, told Cassie goodnight, and slept a guilty sleep.«
(Bukowski, 1978: 209)
This is merely one of many such instances, wherein Chinaski’s alcoholism gets in the way of
his urge for sexual fulfillment, and the functional parallelism of his drinking habits to that of
the death instinct, and his sexual desires to that of Eros, further illuminates the struggle of two
opposing instincts within the character, and of how he aims for a perpetual state of
indifference, whilst additionally longing for a fulfilling expression of his sexuality – two
differentiating urges, the absolute fulfillment of which will, inevitably, be unattainable due to
their contradictory nature – one standing in the way of the other.
25
The struggle of Eros and Thanatos as the two main and contradictory instincts guiding
the behavioral patterns of Henry Chinaski is prevalent in every aspect of his existence.
However, there are discussions to be had as to which of the two instincts certain behavioral
patterns ought to be ascribed. Throughout the novel the character drifts from one relationship
to another in a perpetual search for sexual fulfillment, but ought this undetermined search be
credited to Thanatos, or to Eros, or to both?
Using Thanatos as the starting-point, such wavering and unsatisfactory behavior can
be construed as being a product of the death instinct, since it ascertains a repetitious,
behavioral pattern constituting and reproducing a stationary existence, lacking any signs of
growth or will for further development. It contributes to a mental state of indifference, with
sexual experiences being repeated to such a degree, that the extracted sensory impressions are
degraded to a level resembling a state of nothingness, i.e. death. Furthermore, the refusal to
settle down and merely enjoy the company of one woman reiterates the character’s negation
and lack of enthusiasm for a life of stability and unity, thereby standing in sharp contrast to
the notions and core principles of Eros through the rejection of harmony and development.
Through the drifting nature of his behavior, the character succumbs to a mental state leaning
towards chaos, apathy, and anti-sociality, not allowing anyone to get close to him, or in any
way have an effect on his sense of self. Thereby, the character allows himself to drift through
life in a careless manner with no attachments to anyone or anything, ascribing to himself
nothing but indifference towards his surroundings, and thusly, disregarding, and replacing the
normative sensory impressions of empathy, sociality, and vitality normally associated with
intimate relations, with a state of nothingness and indifference.
On the other side, and in contrast to Thanatos, we have Eros, to whom such sexually
driven behavior could additionally be ascribed, since the notion of an undetermined sexual
desire aiming towards manifold sexual objects could equally be interpreted as a way of
spreading one’s seed as far as possible. Meaning, that by not settling for only one sexual
partner Chinaski allows his own animalistic and instinctive desire for procreation to flourish
in a subconscious attempt to save the species. Eros, being the life instinct, is constantly
driving the subject towards the possibility and purpose of life, and it would, therefore, be
sensible that a subject would enhance the probability of creation and development through the
attainment of multiple sexual partners.
26
Thereby, the sexual behavioral patterns of Chinaski can be ascribed to both the
contradictory and reciprocal dichotomy of the inherent instincts of Thanatos and Eros.
Therefore, the primary catalyst of such behavior becomes increasingly difficult to determine,
since it can be ascribed to both instincts. Such an analysis could illuminate and encourage an
interesting discussion regarding the nature of our instincts, and the underlying motives of
human behavior in general.
27
The Master-Slave Dialectic
With a point of departure firmly grounded in the existential-feminist theory of Simone de
Beauvoir, we will in the second part of our analysis endeavour to isolate and analyse certain
‘dualistic’ phenomena underscoring Henry Chinaski’s often tense and antagonistic relations
with the female characters depicted in Bukowski’s novel Women. More specifically, we will
present an analysis grounded in a rigorous dissection and assessment of three specific
relationships with women involving Chinaski in the novel. The three relationships we have
chosen to analyse concern Chinaski’s relationships with the female characters Lydia, Tammie,
and Sara. Our choice of these relationships is founded upon de Beauvoir’s theoretical
contention that the human condition is exclusively constituted by an underlying notion of
dualistic ambiguity that ineluctably engenders the tension and antagonism evident in human
beings reciprocal relations with one another. In addition to the notion of ambiguity, we will in
our analysis of Chinaski’s relationships be utilizing a number of conceptual notions and terms
de Beauvoir has employed in formulating her theoretical hypotheses. These are:
alterity/otherness, The Master-Slave relation, bad faith, transcendence and immanence,
facticity, and the feminine myth of Mother Earth. Finally, we will conclude the second part of
our analysis by discussing the analytical conclusions garnered from the preceding relationship
analyses.
Chinaski & Lydia
Lydia Vance is one of the great loves of Henry Chinaski in Women. He is immediately taken
by the wild vitality and overt sexuality she exudes when he first encounters her at a party in
the beginning of the novel (Bukowski, 1978: 2). These are two character traits that Chinaski
finds irresistible in a woman. But the ensuing relationship that evolves between the two is one
underscored by a latent antagonism and tension. For while both of these characters share a
number of analogous idiosyncrasies that are absolutely essential to the impulsive dynamics of
their relationship, these same idiosyncrasies are, however, predicated by a series of immutable
contradictions that ultimately unravel the brittle fabric underpinning it. Already in chapter
two, we are given a tantalising insight into the possible origin of these troublesome
contradictions that henceforth will constitute their hypnotic, if belligerent, relationship:
28
»Lydia Vance had on a suede cowgirl jacket with a fringe around the neck. Her
breasts were good. I told her, ‘I’d like to rip that fringe off your jacket - we could
begin there!’ Lydia walked off. It hadn’t worked.« (Bukowski, 1978: 2)
Implicit in the quotation above is the sense that Chinaski is an overtly sexual being. However,
in the language he uses to convey to Lydia the animal desire her body incites in him, Chinaski
evinces an attitude towards women couched in a quite aggressive and archaic male
objectification of the female form. This attitude can, in part, be explained by the fact that
Chinaski is a 50 year old man, who has grown up in an era where male expressions of a
boorish sexism towards women were commonplace. But Chinaski’s sexism is, nonetheless,
legitimately grounded in the awkwardness he experiences whenever he is in the company of
attractive women like Lydia, who are much younger than he is. This awkwardness can be
explicated by the profound insecurity he feels about his physical appearance, because
Chinaski is not a good-looking man. He is middle-aged, overweight, and possesses a
corporeal complexion commensurate with a life ravaged both by a debilitating acne affliction,
a chronic addiction to alcohol, and generally, a habitual aversion to wholesome living.
Nonetheless, it is a combination of the boorishness implicit in the concrete expressions
of his sexuality, together with his eccentric appearance and his uncompromising lifestyle as a
writer, that attracts Lydia to him. But Lydia’s attraction to Chinaski is, nevertheless, couched
in a belief that beneath the coarseness evident in Chinaski’s individuality lurks a fragile
individual whose underlying vulnerability and anxiety needs to be mollified. Thus, her
intuitive recognition of the imperfections inherent in Chinaski’s being engenders in Lydia a
maternal instinct the symbolic articulation of which takes the form of a sculpture she fashions
of Chinaski's head. Lydia’s sculpture, however, constitutes a symbolic diagnosis of an
immutable fact concerning Chinaski’s character: that is, that he is an individual fundamentally
riven by a dualistic ambiguity, and that it is in the essential incompatibility of the
contradictory ‘poles’ embedded in this duality, that induces the tension interior to Chinaski’s
enigmatic personality. Indeed, Lydia touches upon this conflictual duality, and in doing so,
anticipates the impending anarchic combustibility of their ill-fated relationship:
»”I had a dream about you. I opened your chest like a cabinet, it had doors, and
when I opened the doors I saw all kinds of soft things inside you - teddy bears,
29
tiny fuzzy animals, all these soft, cuddly things. Then I had a dream about this
other man. He walked up to me and handed me some pieces of paper. He was a
writer. I took the pieces of paper and looked at them. And the pieces of paper had
cancer. His writing had cancer. I go by my dreams. You deserve some love.”«
(Bukowski, 1978: 13).
In justifying why Chinaski is deserving of her love, Lydia reasons that he is an individual
whom, on the one hand, inhabits a childlike state of tenderness and innocence, while, at the
same time, he is a poetic harbinger of cancerous annihilation. Lydia would thus seem to
confirm in the elucidation of her dreams that her attraction to Chinaski is one wholly founded
upon a genuine affection for his dualistic individuality. But in her fervent acknowledgement
of this dualistic ‘division’, as being the foundational basis whereupon she can cultivate a
loving relationship with Chinaski, Lydia discloses a quite stunning naivety, and thus almost
certainly ensures that her relationship with Chinaski will terminate in failure, inasmuch as her
recognition of Chinaski’s paradoxical duality flatters his ego, confirming for him the
legitimacy of the luminously tragic individual he takes himself to be. Additionally, however,
and of far greater consequence, Lydia’s recognition relegates her to a position of contingent
dependency in their relationship. In effect, she cedes all sovereign authority to Chinaski in
their relationship when she embraces his dualistic individuality, as it is in the uncontested
admiration for, and expression of, this individuality that enables Chinaski to confer absolute
meaning on his life.
In de Beauvoir’s interpretation of the Hegelian conceptualisation of alterity and its
relevance to the construction of the Master-Slave relation, Chinaski thus assumes the position
of the sovereign Master in his relationship with Lydia on account of her recognition of his
dualistic individuality. In effect, Lydia’s passive recognition enables the projection of
Chinaski’s own objectified otherness - originally projected onto him by Lydia’s subjective
gaze - back onto her in the form of a sovereign Self. Moreover, his redirected otherness in the
shape of his sovereign subjectivity is reflected back onto him in the shape of that which he is
not: namely his passive Other, Lydia, who is thus robbed of her own subjectivity. Lydia thus
becomes an objectified ‘vassal’ for Chinaski, enabling both the cultivation of a sense of
absolute ‘possession’ of her, and the egotistical gratification derived from her uncontested
admiration for him. Quite literally, this new state of affairs is reflected symbolically in
30
Lydia’s sculpture of Chinaski’s head. The sculpture, which in a way embodies his sovereign
status in their relationship, becomes, at times, a symbol connoting Chinaski’s indignation
when he and Lydia split up, as he believes it is her own unreasonable behavior (e.g. her
flirtatiousness, her sexual frankness in conversations with other men) that generates these
splits (Bukowski, 1978: 29). However, it is the frequency of Chinaski’s errant behavior, and
the repercussions they induce, which incite Lydia’s frequent contestations of his sovereign
status, her subsequent errant behaviour, and which, arguably, constitute the authentic source
of their frequent break-ups.
Lydia’s contestations of Chinaski’s sovereign status stem from the boredom and
frustration she experiences in her role as Chinaski’s subjugated and dependent Other. Her
concrete situation is one wholly constituted by the elements conducive to Chinaski’s desire to
accomplish himself through the lifestyle he evinces. These ‘elements’ especially concern
Chinaski’s writing, drinking, and womanising. Moreover, in Beauvoirian terms, these
elements constitute Chinaski’s projects, the continual enactment of which allow him to
spontaneously transcend his concrete situation, and thus affirm his absolute sovereignty
inasmuch as it relates to his life, as well as his sovereign position within his relationship with
Lydia. Lydia’s refusal to accept her concrete situation, that is, to assert her desire to transcend
her position as Chinaski’s immanent Other - through the spontaneous enactment of her own
projects - thus embodies an attempt to escape the boredom and frustration caused by the
concrete facticity imposed on her by Chinaski’s desire for fulfilment through his projects.
One of her projects, namely, Chinaski himself, is the source of immense frustration for
her in the sense that Chinaski’s excessive drinking often leaves him sexually impotent, and
thus unable to satiate her prodigious sexual desire. Furthermore, her boredom is a logical
corollary of the fact that Chinaski’s cantankerous nature and love of solitude, as evinced in his
aversion to mixing socially with other people, entirely contradicts Lydia desire to accomplish
herself via her active engagement with another of her projects, namely that of her love for
socialising. As Lydia ruefully laments:
»“We haven’t been to a party in months! I like to see people! I’m bored! I’m so
bored I’m about to go crazy! I want to do things! I want to DANCE! I want to
live! [...] You’re too old. You just want to sit around and criticize everything and
31
everybody. You don’t want to do anything. Nothing’s good enough for you!”«
(Bukowski, 1978: 33)
In this particular instance, Lydia’s forceful assertion of the frustration and boredom she
experiences meets with a predictable response entirely in keeping with Chinaski’s disposition
any time he feels Lydia is challenging his sovereignty: he threatens to leave her. But this, in
turn, earns him a stern rebuke from Lydia, who in doing so, emphasises the latent inequality
she experiences in the Master-Slave dynamic that underscores her relationship with Chinaski:
»“There you go! The minute things don’t go your way you jump up and you run
out of the door. You never want to talk about things. You go home and get drunk
and then you’re so sick the next day you think you’re going to die. Then you
phone me!”« (Bukowski, 1978: 34)
Implicit in the above quotation is another tendency intrinsic to Chinaski’s character that
further cements the underlying tension that predicates and perpetuates the mutual hostility
evident in their relationship. When Lydia challenges Chinaski’s sovereignty by questioning
the legitimacy of the constituent elements that define his projects, such as his drinking,
Chinaski’s reaction always results in him fleeing Lydia. The problem here, however, is that in
fleeing Lydia, Chinaski normally seeks out the company of another woman. Chinaski can take
refuge with such a woman, safe in the knowledge that she will not seek to contest his
sovereignty by insisting that he recognizes her right to express her individuality through the
spontaneous enactment of projects, like Lydia does. A woman, moreover, who can radiate
Chinaski’s sovereign subjectivity by categorically acknowledging and embracing it in the
shape of his flawed, dualistic individuality. But in fleeing Lydia, Chinaski is acting in bad
faith in the sense that he is trying to flee the concrete facticity that connotes his concrete
situation with Lydia, which he himself has constructed. For Chinaski’s flight from Lydia,
towards another woman, is wholly founded upon his desire to avoid being relegated to a
position of immanence in his relationship with her. That is, he fears that in acquiescing to
Lydia’s demands expressing her desire to transcend her concrete situation, he himself will
have to compromise the projects that both constitute and affirm his position of subjective
sovereignty within their relationship. Thus, to acquiesce to Lydia’s requests of him to curtail
32
his drinking and show a genuine interest in participating in her socialising would, in
Chinaski’s optic, equate to a wilful secession, on his part, of his position of sovereign
authority. Because implicit in such requests would be the notion that he treat Lydia as his
equal, which in itself would require a genuine commitment to their relationship that Chinaski
seems incapable of. In short, in Beauvoirian terms, if Chinaski were to commit to their
relationship under such conditions, his desire for transcendence would be eclipsed by Lydia’s,
and as such, would precipitate the reversal of the roles hitherto assigned in their Master-Slave
relation.
Chinaski’s flights from Lydia are only ever temporary though, for he is consumed by
the tension intrinsic to the dualistic ambiguity that underscores his flawed individuality, and
the concrete facticity of his relationship with Lydia. While the women he takes refuge with
can provide him with a temporary respite from Lydia, they can, however, never furnish him
with the feral sexuality and unpredictability women like Lydia evince. In returning to Lydia,
however, the initial elation he experiences in their reunion is always replaced by a fresh desire
to flee again, for Lydia is never content with leaving unchallenged the unresolved issues that
always resurface when he returns. This can be explained both by the fact that Chinaski’s
‘flights’ always engender a sense of hysteria and jealousy in Lydia, and the fact that Chinaski
tends to taunt her by being quite cynical in the manner he goes about engineering them. We
see one such example when he deliberately incites Lydia into challenging him so he can
threaten to leave her. Lydia issues him with an ultimatum that if he does so, he will never see
her again. In taking up Lydia’s offer, Chinaski thus frees up time to be with Mindy, who he
has invited to Los Angeles to stay with him (Bukowski, 1978: 72-73). But when Lydia shows
up at Chinaski’s place a week later we see the repercussions generated by Chinaski’s flight
from her. Mindy opens the door to be confronted by Lydia, who immediately states the
purpose of her visit: »I just came over to check out the competition.« (Bukowski, 1978: 78).
Lydia then attacks Mindy, and in the ensuing fracas Mindy flees. Left alone with Lydia,
Chinaski subsequently receives a visit from the police who are answering a ‘disturbance of
the peace call’. The police ask him which of the two women he wants. Chinaski chooses
Lydia (Bukowski, 1978: 78-79). Thus, in his efforts to flee Lydia by cynically engineering a
flight from her, Chinaski, paradoxically, is reunited with her. Hence, in his desire to transcend
his concrete situation with Lydia, by fleeing from it in bad faith with Mindy, Chinaski is, once
again, constrained by the tension created by the dualistic ambiguity underpinning the concrete
33
facticity of their relationship, the gestation of which is prophetically shaped by the
consequences of the inauthentic actions he takes.
At this point, it would seem pertinent to inquire why Lydia continues to indulge
Chinaski, when all the evidence would suggest that he is incapable of committing to their
relationship in a manner that would grant her the equal status she craves. For her position as
Chinaski’s dependent Other within a Master-Slave relation doesn’t quite chime with de
Beauvoir’s interpretation of it in the sense that Lydia’s position is not dictated to her on
account of her being married to him. On the contrary, Lydia, like Chinaski, is a divorcee.
Thus, if she is not institutionally bound to Chinaski, one would assume that it might be in her
best interests if she moved on from Chinaski, and sought a new relationship where her
legitimate desire for equality might be realised. The reason why she does not is evident in the
following lines, wherein Lydia intimates to Chinaski a significant difference between him and
her ex-husband:
»“My husband had this big cock and he thought that was all he had. He had no
personality, no vibes. Just a big cock and he thought that was all he had to have.
But Christ he was dull! With you, I keep getting vibes…this electric feedback, it
never stops.”« (Bukowski, 1978: 60)
The sexually explicit content of the lines notwithstanding, what is revealing in Lydia’s
comments is the fact that of the two projects we have mentioned as being fundamental to her
desire to transcend her immanence are clearly mentioned. However, they are also clearly
graded in accordance with their importance to Lydia. Despite Lydia’s ex-husband possessing
a penis one would assume large enough to enable Lydia to accomplish her transcendence
through the fulfilment of ‘her prodigious sexual desire’, it would appear that it was trumped
by the acute sense of boredom engendered in Lydia by her his underwhelming personality. On
the other hand, her primary project, Henry Chinaski, not only possesses a ferocious sexuality
that can satiate her immense sexual desire, but is also in possession of an unpredictable
disposition that is wholly superior to that of her ex-husband’s. But in the articulation of the
reasons underscoring her attraction to Chinaski, Lydia too, is guilty of acting in bad faith,
insofar as her extolment of Chinaski’s ‘qualities’ appeal to Chinaski’s considerable hubris. In
doing so, Lydia relinquishes her subjectivity and reaffirms her position as Chinaski’s passive
34
Other. This is particularly galling when one considers that Lydia has just taken Chinaski back
after one of his flights, thereby making a mockery of her original attempts to contest her
immanence by challenging the behaviour that presupposed the aforementioned flight
(Bukowski, 1978: 60). Ergo, in Beauvoirean terms, Lydia embodies a woman in love acting
inauthentically in the sense that her own words actively mitigate the possibility of her
transcending her concrete immanence. This example constitutes, however, a logical corollary
of situation whereby a Slave (Lydia) ‘out of fear, hope, or dependence internalises her need’
for the love of her Master (Chinaski), who nevertheless does not reciprocate the need for her
love in their Master-Slave relation, yet retains the sovereign privilege to do so, if he so desires
(de Beauvoir, 1949: 9).
One final point we would like to elucidate before we finish, concerns Chinaski’s trip
to Lydia’s hometown of Muleshead, Utah, where he joins her, and her sister Glendoline, at a
mountain retreat. However, upon arrival he is appalled by the situation he finds himself in,
contending as he must with the sisters’ overt discussions about their sexuality (Bukowski,
1978: 81). As Chinaski ruefully laments: »I was trapped in the woods with two crazy women.
They took all the joy out of fucking by talking about it all the time. I liked to fuck too, but it
wasn’t my religion.« (Bukowski, 1978: 82).Chinaski flees the situation, heading off on a walk
alone in the surrounding countryside. But he quickly loses his bearings and ends up lost. He
now experiences real fear: he is alone and subject to the unpredictable forces of nature. He
tries, unsuccessfully, to find his way back to the campsite. At one point, he pauses to consider
the apparent hopelessness of his situation:
»There was the backdrop of mountains and all around me were trees and brush.
There was no center, no starting point, no connection between anything. I felt real
fear, real fear. Why had I left them take me out of the city, my Los Angeles? A
man could call a cab there, he could telephone. There were reasonable solutions
to reasonable problems.« (Bukowski, 1978: 83)
Once more, we witness the dualistic ambiguity that underscores Chinaski’s being. Alone, and
at the mercy of the elements, Chinaski’s fear manifests itself in his pining for the comforting
rationality of his beloved Los Angeles. In Beauvoirian terms, we can, metaphorically,
compare Chinaski’s situation with that of the sovereign male who seeks to ‘conquer’ and
35
‘possess’ his female Other as nature, hoping for solitude and peace in doing so. But as we
know from the feminine myth of Mother Earth, nature is an ambiguous creature, who is
capable both of protection and destruction. Ergo, Chinaski, lost and alone, becomes the ‘prey
and property’ of nature. The peace in solitude he seeks in his ‘possession’ of the Other as
nature is thus supplanted by a coruscating fear, his sovereign ‘spirit’ crushed by nature’s
capricious materiality. But as we have stated, Mother Earth can furnish sustenance and
protection at the same time one fears one is being ‘destroyed’ by her chaotic nature. This we
can clearly ascertain when Chinaski is eventually reunited with Lydia. Lydia knowingly tells
him: »“I tracked you. I found your red notebook. You got lost deliberately because you were
pissed.”«, to which Chinaski revealingly replies: »“No, I got lost out of ignorance and fear. I
am not a complete person - I’m a stunted city person. I am more or less a failed drizzling shit
with absolutely nothing to offer.”« (Bukowski, 1978: 87)
Chinaski & Tammie
Henry Chinaski’s introduction to Tammie occurs when he receives a phone call from her
while at home writing and drinking. Tammie explains to Chinaski that Arlene, her sister, who
happens to be a huge fan of his writing, is celebrating her birthday, and Tammie would like to
know if they could drop by Chinaski’s place to meet him. Chinaski is no stranger to such
random requests, and as such, is amenable to their suggestion (Bukowski, 1978: 108).
Although Chinaski notices that Tammie is high on pills when she arrives, he is immediately
taken with her » [...] near-perfect body and long natural red hair.« (Bukowski, 1978: 109).
Based on his initial impressions he is, nonetheless, more than a little wary of her frank
boorishness: »Tammie was hard like so many women in their early twenties. Her face was
shark-like. I disliked her, right away.« (Bukowski, 1978: 108). However, two days later
Tammie arrives unannounced at Chinaski’s place. In the two hours Tammie and Chinaski are
together, Tammie makes such an impression on Chinaski that his initial appraisal of her is
reversed. Chinaski is completely consumed by her feral sexuality and chaotic madness:
qualities in a woman, as we have mentioned, that Chinaski is utterly incapable of resisting.
Fatally smitten when she leaves, Chinaski informs us of his revised opinion of her:
36
»I went to bed and thought about her hair. I’d never known a real redhead. It was
fire. Like lightning from heaven, I thought. Somehow her face didn’t seem to be so
hard anymore…« (Bukowski, 1978: 110)
When we posit that Chinaski is ‘fatally smitten when she leaves’, what we are explicitly
alluding to is the fact that the evolution of Chinaski's relationship with Tammie differs from
that of his relationship with Lydia with regard to one crucial element. With respect to the
Beauvoirian interpretation of the Master-Slave relation we wish to set Chinaski and Tammie’s
relationship in relation to, the sovereign status that Chinaski, for the most part, assumes in his
relationship with Lydia is stunningly reversed in his relationship with Tammie. Hence, the
proposition we wish to proffer from the outset here is, that Tammie’s anarchic assertion of her
subjectivity in her relationship with Chinaski relegates him to a position as her immanent
Other within the dialectical domain of their Master-Slave relation, Tammie respectively
assuming the position of the Master.
The reasoning behind our claim is grounded in the reality that Chinaski, in the shape
of Tammie, has met his own doppelgänger. For Tammie’s eviscerating disposition would
seem to evince a subjective sovereignty wholly presupposed by the contradictions imbued in
the dualistic ambiguity intrinsic to Chinaski’s being. Furthermore, the tension and inequality
induced by Chinaski in his relationship with Lydia would seem to be evident in his
relationship with Tammie, only in reverse. Tammie’s behaviour is punctuated by a chaotic
unpredictability, the ambition of which seems only to lie in the constant satiation of her
egotistical desires. However, in her endeavours to affirm her sovereignty through the
continuous accomplishment of her projects (men, drugs, drinking etc.), she supplants
Chinaski’s own egotistical ambition to accomplish himself through his. What we are saying is
that, in Beauvoirian terms, the concrete facticity that connotes Chinaski and Tammie’s
concrete situation is wholly constituted by Tammie’s accomplishment of her projects. Thus,
Chinaski must reconcile himself to the fact that his concrete situation with Tammie is one
connoted by her imposition of an alien facticity upon him. In short, Tammie is the
transcendent, sovereign subject whose desire to accomplish herself results in Chinaski’s
relegation to a position of passive immanence. Chinaski thus becomes Tammie’s objectified
‘vassal’ in much the same way that Lydia became his, in the sense that he merely functions as
a passive enabler through which Tammie can accomplish her projects.
37
That we can posit this claim with such certainty stems from the fact that Chinaski
assumes certain passive characteristics in his relationship with Tammie that mirror those that
Lydia assumes in her role as Chinaski’s immanent Other. First, Chinaski is undoubtedly in
love with Tammie as he writes a number of love poems dedicated to her (Bukowski, 1978:
118). Tammie’s knowledge of these poems, however, bolsters her own narcissistic self-image
and subjectivity in a way that contrasts sharply with Chinaski’s own intuitive understanding
of what these poems represent for himself: that is, as representations of his sovereign
accomplishment of himself through his poetry as a project. Second, Tammie’s projects often
engender serious repercussions for Chinaski that compromise the enactment of his own in a
manner familiar to the way in which Lydia must cope with the consequences generated by
Chinaski’s. Furthermore, these repercussions instigate, in Chinaski, feelings of jealousy
similar to Lydia’s in the sense that they are a result of projects engaged in by Tammie, that
are generated by her flagrant expression of her ravenous sexual desire.
One such example materialises when Chinaski and Tammie visit his friend Bobby,
who is entertaining some guests. At one point, Tammie runs out after one of Bobby’s guests’,
Louie, who she subsequently accosts sexually by offering him oral sex while he is throwing
up outside. Later, Chinaski notices that Tammie, who has her head placed in Bobby’s lap, is
enthusiastically fondling and stroking Bobby’s manhood. Chinaski immediately takes his
leave (Bukowski, 1978: 120-21). The following day Tammie shows up at Chinaski’s place,
apologising by saying to him: »“I’m sorry if I hurt you acting like I did, but that’s all I’m
sorry for. The rest is just me.”« (Bukowski, 1978: 121). But her apology seems more like an
aggressive ultimatum to Chinaski. To paraphrase: Tammie is sorry, but she is who she is, and
Chinaski must accept that, as she is not going to change any time soon. Chinaski’s subsequent
passive acceptance of her apology would thus seem to affirm Tammie’s sovereign subjectivity
in their relationship.
Chinaski’s relationship with Tammie reaches a temporary denouement of sorts when
Tammie decides she is going to call over to Bobby. Chinaski reacts angrily when Tammie
tries to take the bottle of champagne he had bought for her with her to Bobby’s: »“Fuck off,”
I said, “you’re not taking it down there and drinking it with him.”« (Bukowski, 1978: 124).
Here, for the first time, we see Chinaski contest Tammie’s sovereignty that determines the
concrete facticity that hitherto has connoted his concrete situation within their relationship. It
is his way of venting the frustration he feels for once again being denied the opportunity by
38
Tammie to contest his immanence through the transcendent accomplishment of his projects.
However, both parties are guilty of committing inauthentic acts of bad faith in this situation:
Tammie, because she uses Chinaski’s challenge to her absolute sovereignty as a precondition
to engineer a flight away from him; and Chinaski, whereupon arriving at Bobby’s place later
on drunk on champagne decides to stay, even though the source of his earlier contestation,
Tammie, is also there drinking and snorting coke with Bobby (Bukowski, 1978: 125). What is
significant here, then, is that Chinaski affirms his role as Tammie’s immanent Other, by once
again passively accepting the inauthentic actions underscoring Tammie’s expression of her
sovereignty. Hence, his actions mirror, step by step, those of Lydia in her relationship with
him: first, contest the sovereign subject’s transcendent behaviour out of frustration at again
being denied the opportunity to transcend your own immanence through the enactment of
your projects; second, out of jealousy, confront the sovereign subject (Tammie) and the
desirous object (Bobby) of her flight; and finally, ensure one’s position of immanence by
paradoxically recognising the validity through passive acceptance of the behaviour originally
contested. Thus, as we proffered earlier, we witness, in Chinaski’s relationship with Tammie,
a stunning reversal of the Beauvoirian interpretation of the Hegelian Master-Slave relation set
in accordance with Chinaski’s relationship with Lydia: Chinaski is the passive Slave, who
internalises his need for the love of his Master, Tammie, who nevertheless does not
reciprocate her need for the love of her enslaved Other, yet retains the sovereign privilege to
do so, if she so desires. Indeed, one might further propose, that Chinaski’s palpable and
narcissistic desire for the love of his Master is ultimately eclipsed by the Master’s equally
palpable and narcissistic desire for the love of herself.
Chinaski and Sara
The final female character whose relationship with Chinaski we will endeavour to analyse is
Sara. Chinaski first meets Sara in a bar, after she had approached him with two other women:
Debra and Cassie. Chinaski will subsequently, over the course of the next five chapters,
engage in relationships with all three women, Sara being the last. But it is only with Sara
whom he attains a sustainable relationship, one which will endure until the end of the novel.
In the following analysis we will thus endeavour to analyse and discuss their relationship
against the backdrop of de Beauvoir’s theory, in order to gain a more nuanced understanding
of the dynamics underscoring this relationship.
39
Chinaski, as the sovereign Master has the freedom to spend his time as he sees fit. As we have
established in the preceding analyses, Chinaski, in order to affirm his sovereign subjectivity is
always in search of activities, or projects, through which he can accomplish himself. Thus,
this desire to accomplish himself is reflected in the projects he undertakes, which are
fundamental to the lifestyle he is accustomed to living. These projects tend to manifest
themselves in the shape of the projects he engages in with ferocious regularity: drinking and
womanizing. However, these activities usually coalesce in the project where he accomplishes
himself the most: namely, his writing. These activities usually converge in his writing. But it
is in his womanising that Chinaski’s desire to assert his sovereign subjectivity through his
writing is most evident. As Chinaski ruminates:
»I had to taste women in order to really know them, to get inside of them. I could
invent men in my mind because I was one, but women, for me, were almost
impossible to fictionalize without first knowing them. So I explored them as best I
could and I found human beings inside.« (Bukowski, 1978: 235)
Nevertheless, Chinaski’s desire to accomplish himself through his projects always creates
problems in the sense that his relationships with women are riven by tension and ambiguity
on account of Chinaski’s dualistic individuality. Indeed, it is in his relationship with Sara that
we see once more the dichotomous ‘division’ in Chinaski’s personality engendering the same
contradictory tendencies in his behaviour that plagued his relationship with Lydia. This is not
surprising given the fact that the difficulties Chinaski experiences in his relationship with Sara
result in him acting repeatedly in bad faith, and engineering inauthentic flights away from her
and into the arms of other women, who rather than contest his subjective sovereignty like Sara
does, actively embrace it.
The source of Chinaski’s repeated acts of bad faith in his relationship with Sara stem,
in part, from the fact that Sara is unwilling to have full sexual intercourse with him on account
of her religious beliefs. As she informs Chinaski on the first night: »”One doesn’t have sex
without marriage”« (Bukowski, 1978: 232). Later she reiterates her point to Chinaski when
he visits her on her birthday, boldly declaring, when one considers Chinaski’s ferocious
sexual appetite, that: »Fucking is not that important.« (Bukowski, 1978: 236). The problem
for Chinaski, so to speak, is not that they do not engage in sexual activity when they are
40
together, but rather that this activity involves a bizarre practice, whereby Sara violently rubs
her genital area up and down against Chinaski’s manhood without ever letting Chinaski
penetrate her. This unusual act, not only inflicts real physical discomfort upon Chinaski’s
manhood, but also engenders a palpable sense of frustration in Chinaski, who is dismayed at
the lack of penetration during this activity. But the source of his dismay is also grounded in
yet another ambiguity. For Sara’s refusal to grant Chinaski full penetration is further
compounded by the fact that in the sexual act it is Sara, and not Chinaski, who assumes
sovereign control of both the act and the role Chinaski’s manhood plays in it. This engenders
a crisis in Chinaski in the sense that it, in his sexual activity with women, is almost always he
who assumes the role of the dominant, sovereign subject. For Chinaski is a phallocentric male
living in a phallocentric universe all of his own creation. He exudes a mystical, godlike
reverence for the sovereign, transcendent power of his own ‘phallus’. But on account of
Sara’s usurping of the sovereign role in their sexual relations Chinaski feels both angered and
ashamed of his ‘phallus’, insofar as the sexual desire it has awoken in him leads to his
relegation to the position of Sara’s immanent Other. As he ruefully laments: »I was still
naked. I looked down at my penis: you dirty son-of-a-bitch! Do you know all the heartache
you cause with your dumb hunger?« (Bukowski, 1978: 246)
In Beauvoirian terms, what Chinaski experiences is a carnal ambiguity that,
paradoxically, predicates an inversion with regard to his expression of his own carnal being.
That is, although it is undeniable that the need for regular sexual gratification in his sexual
relations with women is an essential ingredient in his understanding of himself as a carnal
being, the act of coitus for Chinaski primarily functions as a means by which he can ‘conquer’
and ‘possess’ women in the flesh. It is about asserting his sovereign, ‘phallic’ transcendence
over his immanent Other. But in his concrete ‘carnal’ situation with Sara, it is he who
becomes ‘conquered’ and ‘possessed’ in the flesh by Sara’s transcendent, carnal desire; thus,
he becomes ‘enslaved in his own fleshy, ‘phallic’ immanence’.
But as we have said, this in itself is not enough to fully explain Chinaski’s repeated
acts of bad faith in his relationship with Sara. For even though Chinaski’s problem is both a
challenge and a burden, it is in another area where Sara’s fate is sealed. For Chinaski, a flight
to a woman like Sara is only ever a temporary solution. Because implicit in Chinaski’s flight
to Sara is the fact that he has flown from another woman whose character traits are wholly
different from Sara’s. For Sara will never possess the base sexual instincts and manic
41
unpredictability of the women Chinaski so desires. Sara can provide him an escape from these
women when they contest his sovereignty. She can take care of him. She can mother him, and
thus appeal to that part of Chinaski’s ego that secretly aches for the care of a good woman.
But it will never be enough for Chinaski, for as soon as Sara begins to contest his sovereignty
in their relationship Chinaski will flee. Thus, we observe the same problems arise with Sara
that we saw with Lydia in our earlier analysis. She becomes frustrated with Chinaski’s
transparent aversion to investing time in her projects as they contradict with his desire to
enact his own. We see this in the situation that evolves regarding the thanksgiving dinner she
had planned for them both. Chinaski had promised he would be there, but then quite brazenly
informs Sara that he has forgotten, and, moreover, has promised her friend Debra that he will
go along to hers (Bukowski, 1978: 246). Sara’s original desire, that she and Chinaski share
thanksgiving dinner together, eventually ends in utter disappointment for Sara. Sara’s desire in the form of the realisation of her thanksgiving project - to contest Chinaski's sovereign
subjectivity, and thus, possibly transcend her concrete immanence is trumped by Chinaski’s
desire to enact his own. Here, Sara, like Lydia, is guilty of repeated acts of bad faith in the
sense that she always takes Chinaski back, thus repeatedly undermining her previous
contestations of Chinaski’s sovereignty by passively accepting his previous indiscretions and
inauthentic flights, and in doing so, affirms Chinaski’s position as the sovereign Master, and
hence, her own as his enslaved Other.
Conflictual Freedoms
In the preceding analyses of Henry Chinaski’s relationships with women, we have observed a
number of phenomena which we feel are worthy of further explication and discussion. Firstly,
it is clear from the relationships we have analysed that the status enjoyed by one of the
protagonists in each of these relationships is one wholly connoted by a stifling inequality.
Furthermore, this status has, for the most part, been imposed on them by the other
protagonist’s engagement in projects that have been motivated by a robust desire to cultivate
their sovereign status.
Thus, in all three relationships we have seen this phenomenon reflected in the
evolution of a dialectical Master-Slave relation, whereby one character, in assuming the role
of a sovereign Master, simultaneously, relegates the other character to the role of his or her
enslaved Other. In such circumstances, we observe Chinaski assume the role of the sovereign
42
Master in his relationship with Lydia and Sara, but conversely, witness his relegation to a role
as Tammie’s enslaved Other. However, as we have posited, the roles that are assumed by all
of the characters in each of these relationships are riven by an underlying tension and conflict
generated by their inauthentic actions. That is, that the tension and conflict inherent in each of
these relationships is predicated and perpetuated by the Character’s wilful negations of an
ineluctable, dualistic ambiguity peculiar to their situation. Moreover, these negations
represent the character’s palpable desire to circumvent the discomfort and fear this ambiguity
awakens in them.
In Beauvoirian terms, such a negation manifests itself in the sovereign subject’s
projection of his otherness onto his enslaved Other. The desire of each Master to disavow
their ‘otherness’ as originally projected on to them by the ‘subjective gaze’ of their enslaved
Other is a desire to suppress their own fear that they are, in fact, contingent human beings
whose concrete situation is, for the most part, imposed on them by forces beyond our control
and choosing. In applying the domains of transcendence and immanence to the underlying
Master-Slave relation in our analysis of these relationships, what we are in effect saying is,
that the tension and conflict engendered in these relations is a result of the Master’s subjective
desire to maintain a position of sovereign transcendence, whereby he can ‘self-consciously’
accomplish an absolute freedom through the spontaneous enactment of his projects. However,
in order to do so, he must, suppress the desire of his Slave to accomplish her freedom through
the spontaneous enactments of her projects; Moreover, we observe in all our relationships the
manifestation of the tension and conflict triggered by this dynamic: Chinaski’s freedom in the
shape of the sovereign enactment of his projects supersedes that of Lydia’s, and relegates her
to a position of passive immanence; Tammie’s sovereign enactment of her projects denies
Chinaski his freedom in the shape of the enactment of his; and finally, Sara’s desire for the
freedom to transcend her concrete immanence in the form of her projects is, for the most part,
surpassed by Chinaski’s.
But the Master-Slave relations in all the relationships as expressed in these terms, is
deeply problematical because of the dualistic ambiguity that manifests itself in the inherent
injustice and antagonism they exude. Because in order for the Master to cultivate his position
as the sovereign subject he must deny an ethical responsibility to himself, and in doing so, an
ethical responsibility to his enslaved Other. The Master’s fundamental lack of moral
accountability is evident in all of our relationships: on each occasion the Master seeks to
43
accomplish themselves through his projects, he always repudiates the ethical consequences
these projects cultivate for his enslaved Other, because they posit them as incontestable
absolutes. Thus, when the enslaved Other subsequently contests the ethical validity of the
Master’s projects, he simply abnegates his moral responsibility, by projecting any guilt he
may feel back onto his enslaved Other. Furthermore, the Master repudiates the ethical
contestation of the unethical consequences engendered by his projects by acting in bad faith
and fleeing the source of this contestation. This lack of an ethical relation is what we mean by
‘imposed facticities’ in the sense that it is our concrete facticity that always mediates our
desire for freedom to transcend our immanence, insofar as all the choices we have made or
will make always define our concrete situation. In the relationships we have analyzed, the
concrete facticity that has been imposed by the Master on the Slave has wholly been
constituted by the unethical choices the Master has taken in order to accomplish himself
through his projects, the consequences, or the facticity of which the Slave has had to contend
with.
In Beauvoirian terms, what we observe in these relationships is a tension and conflict
between two competing freedoms whose legitimate desire to accomplish themselves would
seem to have resulted in the unethical enslavement of one, by the sovereign desire of another.
But as long as there is no reciprocal and ethical recognition by the Master of his enslaved
Other’s legitimate desire for equality through the transcendence of her immanence, then the
tension and conflict will always remain. What would seem necessary, then, would be, that
both Master and Slave alike, accept and embrace the dualistic ambiguity manifested by the
Self/Other division inherent in both of them. This would further require an ethical acceptance
of the tension and conflict inevitably generated by a reciprocal recognition of each other as
both sovereign subject, and immanent object, as being the only basis, whereby a truly
authentic and free relationship between them might manifest itself. If not, the dynamic
underscoring their conflictual Master-Slave relation would in the future, as it has done in the
past, always favour the oppressor over the oppressed.
44
Discussion: The Reciprocal Ambiguity of Instincts and Freedoms
Henry Chinaski’s concrete situation is riven by a dualistic ambiguity: on the one hand, it
connotes a desire for the chaotic and self-destructive pursuit of hedonistic annihilation; and on
the other, it connotes a desire for tranquility, preservation and benevolent union. His concrete
situation would thus seem to be underscored by a tension and conflict brought on by his
struggle to harmonize these two contradictory dualistic poles into a singular, satisfactory
entity. Furthermore, this dualistic and ambiguous struggle is generated by the fractious,
dualistic division interior to the subconscious of Chinaski that manifests itself in the Freudian
concepts of Thanatos and Eros. For Chinaski’s concrete situation is one wholly representative
of the fact that his subconscious drives in the form of Thanatos and Eros are out of sync with
each other. This subconscious imbalance is evident in Chinaski’s behavioural patterns in his
relationships with women, wherein it would seem that Chinaski’s proclivity for projects (i.e.
drinking, womanising, gambling, etc.) evincing the self-destructive and chaotic qualities of
the death instincts concomitant with Thanatos, exceed the desire he may have to adhere to the
life-affirming and self-preserving principles intrinsic to the life-instinct, Eros. Chinaski’s
struggle to harmonize these two contradictory poles would thus seem to originate in the
material manifestation of the subconscious domination of the death instinct, Thanatos, over
the life-instinct, Eros. Chinaski’s proclivity for engaging in chaotic projects in his
relationships with women that adhere to the principles of Thanatos can be explained by the
fact that they mirror his own longing for death. That is, that Chinaski’s projects are geared
towards his own annihilation, both physically and mentally. The pleasure he derives from
these projects in the form of his Eros is subsumed by his overriding desire for annihilation
though his Thanatos - in embracing death it would seem he is repudiating life. Hence, in his
engagement in these projects, Chinaski’s principal motivation would not seem to be guided by
the desire for simple, pleasurable gratification through his Eros; rather, it would seem to be
motivated by a singular desire in the shape of his Thanatos to annihilate the women in his
relationships as he annihilates himself. Presupposing his desire to annihilate himself through
the affirmation of his Thanatos would, however, seem to be the forcible submission of the
women in his relationships to the will of his Thanatos, if they do not share the same desire for
annihilation. Moreover, it would seem logical to presume that such women might contest the
enforcement of Chinaski’s Thanatos upon them - as implicit in such a contestation would be a
45
rejection of the consequences imposed upon them by the unethical practices employed in such
an enforcement. Chinaski’s ‘unethical’ desire to assert the sovereignty of his Thanatos in his
relationships with women would thus seem to correspond with the Beauvoirian Master-Slave
relation. Indeed, in the Master-Slave relation, we observe the materialisation of the ethical
implications engendered by the dualistic ambiguity intrinsic to the tension and conflict
generated by Chinaski’s Thanatos/Eros division; that is, the absence of an ethical obligation
provoked by Chinaski’s competing instincts is materialized in the competing freedoms
emblematic of the Master-Slave relation; for implicit in the dialectical struggle between the
competing freedoms in the Master-Slave relation is the notion that the Master must always
refute the validity of his enslaved Other’s contestation of his transcendence as espoused
through the unethical enactment of his sovereign projects; that is, he must always suppress her
desire to authentically transcend the imposed and unethical facticity that connotes her
concrete immanence through the enactment of her own projects, if his desire to transcend his
own immanence is always to be realised. Chinaski’s desire for a sovereign Thanatos thus
presupposes his desire for sovereign transcendence as the Master, insofar as it fosters a
subconscious enabling of a subjective abnegation of an ethical responsibility for the
repercussions of actions concomitant with the forced enslavement of women as his immanent
Other.
As an antithesis and counter-argument to the above, a compatible dualistic pairing can be
made in the relation between the Freudian concept of Thanatos and the Beavourian domain of
immanence insofar as Thanatos, within its function as the death instinct, contains within itself
an awareness of death as an immanent threat and the inevitable conclusion to one’s existence.
Thusly a pairing can be made, drawing the concept of Thanatos into the spectrum of
immanence, through the subject’s submission to his or her concrete situation as a mortal being
incapable of escaping one’s final destination, and the inevitable return to a state of
nothingness. Such a submission accumulates a contentment and acceptance of one’s concrete
situation, and an indulgement in the chaotic nature of Thanatos, allowing it to position itself
as the dominant instinct. Hence, the subject’s mental state spirals through a continual and
circular repetition, affirming and re-affirming the subject’s own sense of self as a mortal
being, thusly relegating the subject to a state of indifference. This is where Eros can be seen
as an instinct resembling the Beauvoirian domain of transcendence in the sense that one can
use Eros to positively transcend one’s concrete situation, and one’s contentment with the
46
inevitable threat of death. Eros, acting as the life instinct, thereby challenges Thanatos by
attempting to transcend one’s immanence and one’s acceptance of death as the absolute
conclusion to life. The source of such a utilization of Eros must inevitably be caused by a
refusal, or incapability, to accept one’s concrete situation as a mortal being - rejecting death
and the repetitive nature of non-development - accordingly, replacing such a state with the
nature and core principles of Eros, which includes a feeling of unity, harmony, sociality and
comfort. Furthermore, the concept of Eros, when functioning as transcendence over and out of
immanence, and in being a negation of death, speaks to man’s inherent longing for
immortality through procreation. The subject’s sexual desires can, in other words, be
construed as containing within itself an ultimate goal of re-creating one’s self, and thusly
living on after the inevitable occurrence of death. Hence, the utilization of Eros as the tool for
transcending one’s concrete situation, is driven by a fear of death, and has, therefore, through
sheer necessity, overtaken Thanatos as the dominant instinct, and as a method of surviving
one’s own death. Therefore, through the exploration of both instincts as contradictory and
reciprocal dualisms governing the human condition, the instincts of Thanatos and Eros act as
equal drives within the psyche of Chinaski, intersecting one another through a power-dynamic
driven by forces of domination and submission. They swap hierarchical positions depending
on the context; Thanatos dominating Eros until Eros, through necessity and fear of death,
dominates Thanatos as a means for survival. It does so by transcending the concrete situation
within the domain of immanence, replacing it with the affirmation of life and the negation of
death. Eros and Thanatos must therefore be understood as fluid concepts inevitably ruled by a
dualistic relationship of domination and submission, the power-dynamic of which varies from
one instance to the other, embodying an eternal struggle of the instincts.
47
Conclusion
We can conclude that Henry Chinaski’s character is one riven by a dualistic ambiguity, which
we can see in the fluid interaction within the Freudian concepts Eros and Thanatos with the
Beauvoirian domains of transcendence and immanence within the dynamics of the MasterSlave relation. Eros is represented through his sexual desires, and Thanatos through his
longing for death. But nevertheless these two conflicting instincts are always present in
Chinaski’s character. These instincts in Chinaski are both contradictory and reciprocal in their
nature; for in his embrace of Thanatos, he accepts the primacy of the absolute certainty of
death, and in doing so, relegates the life instincts of the Eros to a position of secondary
importance, and vice versa. The conflict and tension produced by the ambiguous and the
dualistic interplay inherent in these two drives is the source of Chinaski’s tortured and
combative relationships with women.
Moreover, we observe the conflict, engendered by the competing instincts within
Chinaski’s psyche, manifest itself in a material sense in the competing ‘freedoms’ connoted in
the Beauvoirian Master-Slave relation. Immanence represents Chinaski’s concrete and static
situation, whereas transcendence represents his desire to transcend the concrete immanence
that connotes his concrete situation. But the Beauvoirian domains function in complementary
accordance with the Freudian concepts of Eros and Thanatos, inasmuch as these two domains
reflect a compatible dualism that is both reciprocal and contradictory in nature. Thus, in order
for Chinaski to assert the sovereign dominance of his Thanatos, he must repress his Eros, as
the transcendent Master must suppress his immanent Other.
48
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