The tension between the positive connotations associated with the Bakhtinian grotesque and the negative ones associated with Romantic grotesque imagery, as well as Eco’s related assertion that the camivalesque is inherently cyclical in nature, are clear within the work of these two writers. What I would like to take forward in this thesis are the different ways in which these two writers have repositioned themselves within this model over time, and how this can be contextualised in terms of social and political change, within both the Republic and Northern Ireland.
The Bakhtinian grotesque is normally linked to the idea of a positive camivalesque revolution, in which the possibility of society being re-bom in a ‘better’ guise is opened up. The Romantic grotesque, as Bakhtin notes, is associated with threatening images, and connotations of the individual being at the mercy of larger movements in the world (be they cosmic or man-made). In the work of both McLiam Wilson and Doyle, the Romantic grotesque appears to represent the darker aspects of society, which may be associated either with change or the complete impossibility o f change
but, most importantly, with the violence or repression which forms part o f certain moments o f time captured within the novels.
The link between Eco’s theory o f the constant reassertion of repressive social structures and the darker tone of the Romantic grotesque is illustrated by McLiam W ilson’s first novel, Ripley Bogle. This can be linked to the seemingly interminable political model that Northern Ireland was caught in at the time. The situation appears strongly linked to Eco’s cyclical model in his critique of Bakhtin. There are small- scale revolutionary acts; however, these are rarely depicted as ‘camivalesque’ as they do not lead to any real change in the status quo. Whether Loyalist or Nationalist, political and paramilitary groups are depicted as wishing for a change in the social structure and government of the province which are absolute, and involve the destmction o f one another. This, coupled with the public refusal of the British government to have any dealings with terrorists (or parties associated with terrorism) leads to a symbolically farcical dead-lock. The impossibility of change in this situation is reflected in the use of the dark and inverted Romantic grotesque. Ripley himself can never escape his background and the violence associated with it. The entire narrative o f his life is also cyclical. The homelessness that he escapes in Belfast, he returns to in London. The violence that he presents himself apart from in Belfast, he enters into in England, as he loses his temper and injures a tramp.
Ripley depicts himself as at the mercy of outside forces which are out o f his control, and is keen to distance himself from any blame or responsibility (hence perhaps the appropriateness of the Romantic grotesque mode where the individual is powerless against outside forces). However, the text’s positioning of Ripley in relation to its
readership questions whether this hopeless way o f looking at both Northern Ireland and the individual is a helpful one. The very fact that Ripley tells us at the end o f the novel that he has been lying, questions whether this decline is really inevitable. It is true that his childhood is dreadful, but it could be argued that it is his adult actions that have led to his downfall. The same could be said of Northern Ireland in the context we are given here. Such a hard-line view renders the novel a biting satire, but leaves open the possibility for change in the future. Even Ripley’s fate is not entirely decided: ‘Smoking with steady, slow compassion, I begin to make some plans’
{Ripley: 326).
This more optimistic view of the world is given its full rein in Eureka Street.
Correspondingly, we see Wilson turning to the more positive side of the grotesque, that associated with Bakhtinian carnival, and the prospect of rejuvenation. As I have already observed, Chuckie is the archetypal Bakhtinian carnival leader, and the repository of optimism in the novel. The political change surrounding the 1994 ceasefire appears to encourage the tentative hope of real change. However, it is also important to note that the spirit of optimism that suffuses the pages of the text is not shared by all o f the characters. Jake, in particular, draws attention to the continuing shootings and punishment beatings, and even Chuckie concedes at one point that the possible release of terrorist prisoners worries him. Indeed, the optimism o f the novel relies on a blind cheerfulness, which is perhaps at odds with the narrative conclusion of the novel, where a new clear sightedness is highlighted.
The relationship between optimism and pessimism, carnival and social repression, and the Romantic grotesque versus the Bakhtinian grotesque, is blended more complexly
in the work o f Roddy Doyle. His first set o f books, The Barrytown Trilogy, appear to offer us an almost overtly Bakhtinian image of the carnival, centred around various members of the Rabbite family. The Commitments shows sexual freedom and a new voice for the disenfranchised through music; in The Snapper the rejuvenating aspects o f the lower bodily stratum make an appearance in the form of Sharon’s physical reproduction; and in The Van the act of conspicuous consumption shows itself as a possible act o f freedom in allowing Jimmy Sr and Bimbo a way o f a life which is not ruled by other employers or the welfare state.
However, throughout these novels, the cyclical nature o f revolution (as espoused by Eco) makes itself clearly felt. Each novel is, in itself, figured as a minor revolution for the characters concerned, offering a possible new way o f life, or thinking. But equally, by the end or start of the next novel we find the characters back in much the same position as they were when they began. Barrytown remains the symbolic heart of the texts, and in some way the characters are always drawn back there. The political climate of the time appears to preclude the characters moving out of their normal sphere. The new influx of wealth appears to be just out o f reach o f those like the Rabbite family. Moreover, within this camivalesque setting, which sets social hegemony against the repressed ‘people,’ the characters themselves are frequently reduced to camivalesque parodies. Yet at no point through the novel do we lose sympathy with the characters, or question their motives.
Doyle’s novel A Star Called Henry is, however, much more complex in its questioning of one of the founding moments of the Republic of Ireland’s history: that o f the Easter Rising of 1916. It is particularly notable here that Doyle switches from
exclusively using images connotative o f the Bakhtinian grotesque, also employing ones associated with the Romantic grotesque. Doyle highlights the emancipation of the poor, of children, o f minorities and o f women, as well as the freedom o f the country itself. However, the fact that few of these groups experienced any great changes after the Easter 1916 Rising (indeed many of them seem to have suffered more in the text), figures the Rising as a lost opportunity for real change. The fact that, by the end of the novel, the up and coming political figures are frequently shown to be as self-serving and inclined to their own bigotries (which replace those o f the previous regime), clearly backs up Eco’s statement that revolutions only ever lead to the imposition o f a new set of rules, which always have to repress someone.
We find, however, in A Star Called Henry, that the images are not wholly negative. In this second novel, Doyle appears to be calling for a reappraisal, not just o f an historical moment, but of something far more fundamental. By making his characters and the situations more complex, he appears to be calling the society to question itself as a whole. He shows society to be based not only on historical and political precedent, but often on the assumptions of people themselves. The history in Doyle’s novel relies not on the major groups involved within it, but on the individuals who make up those groups. By making Henry allied to few o f those groups, a random atom in the apparently regular structure of the story of the 1916 Rising, Doyle highlights the individual positions and alliances that, in fact, all go towards making history.
It is via broadly ‘humanist’ narratives like this that the novels appear to test the boundaries of both Bakhtin’s and Eco’s models of carnival/revolution. By concentrating on the group as made up of individuals, rather than on the individual as
subservient to the group, both Doyle and Wilson offer a different model o f revolution. I would suggest that the porosity of the boundary between the camivalesque grotesque and the Romantic grotesque comes from the uncertainty within society, both in the Republic and Northern Ireland, about the efficacy of categorising people according to class, religion or political affiliation. Groups are a sign of strength, and a large enough group can engender change. However, grouping individuals also leads to the abuse o f power in forms of sectarianism and bigotry, particularly when one o f those individuals refuses to fall in with the group.
Both Doyle’s and Wilson’s most positive characters are those who are able to mould their own identities to some extent. That is not to say they are ‘outside’ society. Rather they may be used to depict alternative models for change. Through these individuals, Doyle and Wilson demonstrate that in some ways Eco is correct: society never does evolve in leaps (or even a straight line) from bad to good. However, my own feeling is that they adapt Bakhtin’s model o f sudden revolution into something resembling an upward spiral. The shibboleths of history, of sectarianism, sexism or racism (both in Northern Ireland and in the Republic) always draw the individual back to them. However, the individual can return with a heightened knowledge and self- awareness that means the experience is never the same again.
It is in this mode o f discourse, which I think vacillates between the ‘freedom’ celebrated by Bakhtin and the ‘repression’ figured by Eco, that we see the most positive moves forward, if by a tortuous route. These novels point towards a way of living and change which is not easily effected in everyday life, in which socio economic factors work, habitually, to keep ‘the people’ down. It is this ‘mundane
which we move on to in the next chapter, here we will see how comedy may test boundaries on a smaller scale and often in a more domestic setting.