Isolation and Space in Dahmer

 As I read My Friend Dahmer this summer, I found myself really noticing the theme of isolation in the book (perhaps because I was also focused on that in The Lovely Bones - if you want to know more - see my posting about the penguin in the snowglobe). Not only was Jeff Dahmer alone on a regular basis, but even when he was with others, he found ways to separate himself through his behavior, his drinking, his choice to go to the shed behind his house. He is portrayed as a 'loner' in Backderf's book through the visual representations as well: in the "Prologue," Jeff is shown as a tiny image on the bottom right of page 13; the road, which is stretched out before him, rolls and shows a combination of dark and light spaces. But Jeff is located proximal to the darkest part of the road, which moves from the dark forest (often used in literature as a representation of the base part of human nature - the wildness of human beings) to the brighter city (which is connected - notice the telephone poles and wires).

Here is a discussion of the concept of isolation from Peter Gutiérrez. (Peter is a spokesperson on comics and graphic novels for the National Council of Teachers of English (NCTE), and is a frequent contributor to School Library Journal.) This excerpt is taken from the Teacher's Guide, page 2):

In an online review of My Friend Dahmer for Time, Lev Grossman writes about the feeling of isolation that Dahmer felt. In the late 1970s,
“there was no Internet and no cell phones. Back then you could actually be alone, truly, deeply alone and isolated in a way that’s almost
impossible now. There was no Twitter, no Facebook, no global network of electronic confi dences and confessions open 24/7. Whatever was
going wrong in your house, and in your head, you dealt with it, or not, by yourself in your room.” 

Thinking about Snow Globes and Lovely Bones

In terms of The Lovely Bones, this time, I was thinking about the penguin in the snowglobe and its connection to the people in Sebold's story. Here is the quote from the epitaph: "Inside the snow globe on my father's desk, there was a penguin wearing a red-and-white-striped scarf. When I was little my father would pull me into his lap and reach for the snow globe. He would turn it over, letting all the snow collect on the top, then quickly invert it. The two of us watched the snow fall gently around the penguin. The penguin was alone in there, I thought, and I worried for him. When I told my father this, he said, 'Don't worry Susie; he has a nice life. He's trapped in a perfect world."' At first I thought the penguin was Susie, trapped in her perfect heaven. But instead of focusing on the penguin this time, I'm focused on Susie's concern for the penguin, who perhaps represents her family members who are trapped in their physicality and in time as well. They cannot escape the tragedy of the loss of Susie Salmon, and though they can run away (like Abigail) or obsess over not being able to protect Susie (like Jack or Len), they are trapped in their grief. Here's a picture of a penguin in a snowglobe that reminds me of the one in the novel. http://www.milanoworldwide.com/picts/Prosperity%20Key%20Chaines%20and%20Pictures%20Snow%20Globes/Key%20Chain%201.5%20inches%20Plastic%20Snow%20Globe%20Penguin.jpg ALSO - Here is a poem you might enjoy by Theodore Roethke which talks about a woman,"lovely in her bones." I recommend you listen to him reading the poem aloud; I love the movement - and the power of his phrasing reminds me of the power of Susie Salmon over her attacker. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gcjk6jrPZnA I Knew a Woman I knew a woman, lovely in her bones, When small birds sighed, she would sigh back at them; Ah, when she moved, she moved more ways than one: The shapes a bright container can contain! Of her choice virtues only gods should speak, Or English poets who grew up on Greek (I'd have them sing in chorus, cheek to cheek.) How well her wishes went! She stroked my chin, She taught me Turn, and Counter-turn, and stand; She taught me Touch, that undulant white skin: I nibbled meekly from her proffered hand; She was the sickle; I, poor I, the rake, Coming behind her for her pretty sake (But what prodigious mowing did we make.) Love likes a gander, and adores a goose: Her full lips pursed, the errant note to seize; She played it quick, she played it light and loose; My eyes, they dazzled at her flowing knees; Her several parts could keep a pure repose, Or one hip quiver with a mobile nose (She moved in circles, and those circles moved.) Let seed be grass, and grass turn into hay: I'm martyr to a motion not my own; What's freedom for? To know eternity. I swear she cast a shadow white as stone. But who would count eternity in days? These old bones live to learn her wanton ways: (I measure time by how a body sways.)