Ion, part 2

Well, praise God, I've finished reading Ion! Actually, I finished reading it two days ago, but for some reason I just couldn't bring myself to write about it. Perhaps because the plot is so intricate it leaves one with a content sigh after the last page is turned. Perhaps because it is an incredibly well-written novel that covers a large spectrum of topics. Perhaps because I'm an incurable procrastinator. *sigh*

Pofta vine mancand, [One's appetite comes after beginning the meal] some say. Well, I hope that's true and I will find my desire to write while doing so. Here it goes!

I've been following several important themes throughout the novel, noting the progression of ideas and the affirmation of my suspicions page after page.

• Different understandings of love surface in this work; both Titu and Ion say they "love" women, but what is their love based on? How does their view of love develop as they interact with different women? How does the men's understanding of love contrast with women's in the novel? How do Laura and Ghighi grow in their understanding of love?

• It appears all significant themes connect, in some way, with the land:

1. Class rank is intimately bound to how much land one owns, particularly in the rural scene; Ion attempts to break class structures by acquiring more land
2. Women are treated unjustly throughout the novel; Ana, in particular, is objectified on account of her dowry, transformed into a means to an end
3. The political power struggle between Romanians and Hungarians is actually a dispute over the Transylvanian land; this struggle is quite apparent in the conflict between the Lusca village men and Paunis Saxons (324)

• Ironically, Ion spends his entire adult life trying to conquer land, to assert his dominance over the fields of corn, wheat, and grass. At the beginning of the novel, it appears land is the master as Ion "gaze[s] at [the fields] with boundless reverence, like a faithful servant before a powerful and pitiless master" (40) (see earlier post about land). The twist seems to come when Ion does indeed secure Ana's dowry and all of his father-in-law's possessions. For a precious few days, the scale is inverted and Ion basks in his achievement: "His heart was steeped in happiness. There was nothing else in the world he desired; his bliss was supreme. The land, all the land lay prostrate at his feet, paying homage to him . . . it all belonged to him; all was his, his alone . . . [...] He felt in him the pride and might of the giant in fairy tales who, after a grim, deadly battle, has slain a host of fearful dragons. He thrust his feet deeper into the ground, as if he were crushing the last writhings of a defeated foe. And the land reeled and shuddered and bowed in obeisance before him" (329-30). Though Ion had indeed achieved his lifelong dream, the victory seems empty. After all, land in and of itself was not the end goal of his battle; he wanted a position of irrefutable superiority and dominance, where all others bowed before him and offered him whatever his heart desired. (I do not wish to imply that Ion was not ready to work hard for his wealth; after all, his work ethos is praised throughout the novel and earns the respect of the Herdelea family and others, before his descent into narcissism.) I believe the greatest irony in the book is spoken close to the very end, when Vasile Baciu unwittingly reveals the true victor in the struggle for the upper hand: “[Ion] stole my land, and God gave him all the earth he could want!” This phrase alludes to the Biblical verse “Of dust you are made, and to the dust you shall return.” Though Ion may have tried to exert his dominion over the land while he lived, it is the land that eventually engulfs him and decomposes the remains of his physical body, proving once more the immutability of the land amidst the fleeting days of humans.

• I would very much like to tackle a feminist reading of this novel at some point in the future. Ion is so perfectly patriarchal, that one would be hard-pressed to find an example of equality or fairness throughout. Nearly every woman is tainted by her pursuit of trifling concerns (c.f. the Herdelea women and their incessant, nonsensical chatter and wavering beliefs) and her physical, emotional, and mental inferiority to man. In fact, women appear to be the cause of many ills in village life: “It is my firm belief,” the Hungarian judge presiding over Ion’s murder says, “that if there were no women in the world, there would be no need of any criminal law!” Implicitly, then, women are the root of crime and corruption. Moreover, they are to suffer quietly the injustices raining upon them, having a meek and submissive attitude even when they are beaten within an inch of their lives. Ana, perhaps the most sympathetic character because of the numerous injustices she suffers is concomitantly the most antithetic character precisely because she is a weakling, bending to her father’s and husband’s wrath, cowering in a corner and eventually escaping life by suicide. After the first time Ion beats her, the kind-natured Mrs. Macedon Cercetasu attempts to sooth her, whispering, “There now, child! Don’t cry anymore. Hush! You must bear everything in silence, for God has willed it that women shall suffer. Hush, now! Hush!” (252) Ana unquestioningly embraces her “fate,” and resolves to try harder to please her husband and prove her worthiness. Even as the fists showered on her, she “bore it all, submissive and suffering” (277), even finding excuses for Ion’s behavior in order to spare him any blame. Perhaps the most shocking display of patriarchy in the novel comes when Vasile Baciu beats his daughter upon discovering the father of her child. In this scene, Vasile is punching and kicking the pregnant Ana, her face covered in blood and body writhing in pain. The village women shriek and try to entreat the man to stop, alternatively pleading with their husbands to interfere before the man kills his daughter. They all stand watching until “urged on by their wives, some of the men that lived nearby came up and tried to pacify him, not daring however to rush upon and hold him back as Avrum had done, for every man is his own master in his farmyard, whatever he may be doing there, and no stranger may interfere” (175, italics mine). I simply do not know what else to say after that. Perhaps the reason it leaves me speechless is because I’ve heard that very phrase repeated time and again while I was living in the village, often cited as an excuse for gross injustice. This claim is faulty on a number of levels; however, the most basic fallacy is simply this: though a man may be master over his farmyard, he may never be master over his wife or children. They, too, are created in the image of God and have intrinsic value and worth. I believe that, before the Creator of the Universe, the father and the daughter are equally valuable; moreover, fathers will be called to give account for the way they have treated their wives and children, whether good or bad. Claiming that a man’s yard is his kingdom and thus he has full prerogative to do whatever he wills in it is simply false; a daughter/wife is not an object, she may not be disposed of at one’s whim, she may not be humiliated and tortured simply because of one man’s temper. Not, that is, according to a humane society’s laws. …I will pause here for fear I say something based on pet peeves rather than fact. Unfortunately, I’m afraid other novels on the list will provide plenty of fodder for this discussion.

• Another important aspect to consider is the portrayal of Christianity in this novel. Romania considers itself to be a “Christian nation,” predominantly orthodox, holding to its traditions, fasts, ceremonies, and prayers with rigid dogmatism. However, too often Orthodoxy becomes merely a characteristic and not a heart attitude that affects every aspect of one’s life. The plot is filled with disparity between doctrine and lifestyle. Witchcraft is present throughout the novel, yet coexists with Orthodoxy undisturbed; charms, chants, suspicions and bad omens abound, yet they are conveniently intertwined with Christianity; for example, Zenobia prepares one of her charms to make her grandson, Petrisor, healthy once more, dropping flaming embers in a bucket of cold water to reveal whether someone has cast a curse upon the little one. All the while, she makes the sign of the cross over the bucket and whispers prayers to Mary to release the boy from any spell. Though this behavior may seem irreconcilable with Christianity to a protestant, the inhabitants of Pripas have no qualms about it.

• I thoroughly respect Rebreanu’s attempt to sketch lifelike characters, portraying people as they really are: good moments, bad days, fickle, loyal, praising a neighbor one moment and cursing him another. There is no man too strong to fall, no woman too gentle to turn around and spit on the hand that feeds her; for that, even the predominantly negative characters have redeeming traits that endears them to the reader, creating a strain in the reader’s loyalties. Rebreanu does not commit the sin other writers often do—he does not create characters merely to get a point across. Though his novel indeed has substance and important social and political critiques throughout, it is not merely a political statement thinly guised in fiction form. Rather, the story itself is a faithful portrayal of early 20^th century village life, including its breathtaking beauties and its dismaying horrors. All this to say, Ion, by Liviu Rebreanu, is a classic piece of writing that deserves exceedingly more scholarly attention than it has hitherto received.

I guess the Romanians’ saying is right, and may be equally paired with an Americanism: “Once you start, you just can’t stop.” Alas, the day is drawing to a close and so must this post. I am currently working on an essay surveying Romanian history, focusing in particular on the events of early 20^th century Romania. Incidentally, the first four decades of last century were arguably the most formative in Romania’s history. So I definitely have my work cut out for me.

If any of you readers have read Ion (assuming there’s actually someone out there who is reading this, besides the good-nature Mr. Clark), I would love to dialog on some of these topics.