This land is your land.... This land is MY land!

I’m 150 pages into Ion, and enjoying it much more than I had anticipated. I had heard the novel called “an agrarian novel,” but had not understood what exactly that phrase referred to –until now. (Well, perhaps even now I don’t completely understand, but at least I’m starting to grasp the meaning.)

Ion’s relationship with the land is one of master-servant. However, surprisingly, it is the land that masters Ion, not vice-versa. Traditionally, people set out to stake their claim on land, charting unconquered territory, galloping into the Wild West to tame and subdue the wilderness. Well, in this case, the land has long-since been tilled, plotted, and cultivated for generations before Ion, yet, surprisingly, it always outlasts its masters. It may change hands from one person to another (even as the Glanetasu’s have lost their land and Baciu has gained increasingly more), it may submit itself to the whims of the farmer, but eventually, the people die off and the land remains, a silent witness to the ever-changing surroundings. Rebreanu describes the land as much, saying “the whole land, cut up according to the whims or needs of the host of living and dead souls into thousands of small pieces, seemed to be alive and breathing. […] The voice of the earth pierced deep into the young man’s soul, like an irresistible, overwhelming call. He felt little and weak, like a worm that is trodden underfoot, or like a helpless leaf whirled about by the wind to where it pleased. He heaved a deep sigh of humility and awe before the giant” (40). The “giant” is neither a man, nor a man-made institution, nor God Himself (who Ion addresses in his admiration) but rather the land itself. Ion worships the ground he walks on, gazing “at [the fields] with boundless reverence, like a faithful servant before a powerful and pitiless master” (40).

However, it is not an innocent love and admiration for land that has Ion spellbound—it is his own insatiable thirst for security and wealth. In fact, one may even say that land is just a means to an end; Ion wants Vasile Baciu’s land so that George won’t have it (67), but also so that he would prove to the villagers his worth. Perhaps one of the most startling realizations so far—for me, at least—is how very far Ion is willing to sacrifice his principles in order to appease his appetite for land.

In a telling paragraph, Rebreanu recounts “[Ion] had been a prey to this love of land since his early childhood. He had always envied the rich and had even nurtured the same ardent resolution: to own a great deal of land, whatever might happen! Ever since, his love for land had been greater even than the love for a mother” (41). This comparison, the love of land and the love of mother, is significant because of Romanians’ fierce devotion to their mothers. Sure, they may swear at them in anger, they may taunt and belittle them, some may even beat them; however, one’s loyalty inevitably lies with one’s mother, and a son would die to defend her honor. Thus, elevating Ion’s love for land above his lover for mother reveals that Ion is willing to do anything it takes to secure it. I’ve sensed that the love of land had quite a hold on Ion’s heart, but I didn’t quite realize the extent of his obsession until I saw it played out in his actions. The fact that Ion is envious is quite plain—the narrator even says so. However, the land motivates Ion in his every action, and his desire to increase his holdings prods him to commit shocking actions.

Of course, one quickly realizes that Ion courts Ana because of her dowry and not out of sincere devotion. He leads her, without a qualm, into believing that he is fiercely in love with her. However, his most pure emotions are certainly linked to Florica; Ana realizes this, and (I’m sorry to say this) is a fool to see only what she wants. Ion’s love of land blinds him to any reason or propriety, and he courts one girl (Ana) while pledging devotion to another (Florica). Soon, however, it is not just girls’ hearts he toys with; his avarice leads him to a deeper crime—theft. First he simply appraises Vasile Baciu’s land, dreaming and planning how it shall be under his hand (79). Almost immediately, he turns his attention to Simion Lungu’s plot, land which had originally belonged to his parents yet had been sold in an attempt to pay off debts. Ion consequently plows four furrows into his neighbor’s land, “his brow moist with sweat and excitement” (79). This is a significant moment in the plot, because for the first time, Ion’s love for land pushes him to an action completely antithetical to his system of beliefs. Sadly, it is only the first hint of his future demise.

Avarice leads to theft, which then leads to blasphemy. Ion had been an admirable young man, well-educated, hard-working, respected by his peers and village folk alike, content to settle down with a beautiful (albeit poor) woman—all until it occurred to him that he could increase his lands by marrying Ana. After being confronted by Simion, the two broke into a brawl and, in the end, “Ion spat disdainfully, crying out that he didn’t care a damn about anyone and wasn’t afraid of anybody, not even of God Almighty” (81). Granted, the village priest didn’t give Ion a positive picture of Christianity to begin with (more on Christianity in this novel in a future post, hopefully). However, Ion’s greed blinds him to any principle whatsoever, and that includes his reverence (or lack thereof) for God, and transforms him from a decent, honest man into a scoundrel, heralding his descent into immorality.

On a side note, I noticed the Hungarian domination over the Romanians in Transylvania and how this causes unbridled patriotism/nationalism. My Romanian history is a little murky at this point, so I’ll have to consult the history books on this one, but I’m curious to set this novel in its proper historical context.