I'm glad I picked up Wise Blood relatively soon after perusing A Good Man is Hard to Find, because this novel clarified some things in my mind about Flannery O'Connor's theology. I'm now certain that I disagree with just about every aspect of her worldview, to the point where I am actually repulsed by her assumptions and arguments. But I also find her thought processes fascinating, and her writing tight and, often, darkly funny. Moreover, it's probably a good exercise, every so often, to stretch one's brain around concepts completely foreign to one's way of thinking, and that Wise Blood most certainly requires me to do. Through Hazel Motes and his frantic attempts to escape his own religious conviction; through Enoch Emery and his resentful adherence to the mysterious dictates of his "wise blood"; through the sham blind-man Asa Hawks and his gleefully wicked daughter Sabbath; and through the blunt apathy and ignorant cruelty of all the regular citizens of the town of Taulkinham, O'Connor presents a vision of the world in such marked contrast to my own, that I can only make sense of it in glimpses, as if through a veil. I should admit up front that I am not the ideal reader for this book. O'Connor writes in the Author's Note to Wise Blood: That belief in Christ is to some a matter of life and death has been a stumbling block for readers who would prefer to think it a matter of no great consequence. For them Hazel Motes' integrity lies in his trying with such vigor to get rid of the ragged figure who moves from tree to tree in the back of his mind. For the author Hazel's integrity lies in his not being able to.I am one of the former class of reader: a secular humanist of the type that O'Connor ruthlessly lampoons throughout this novel, even if I'm not as stupid as most of her characters or as set on the triumph of consumerism and scientism over the mysteries inherent in human existence. Still, perhaps O'Connor would see me as stupid and cruel. That's the way she seemed to see everyone, after all, Christians and secularists alike: she seems to have interpreted the doctrine of original sin to mean that all humans are doltish and mean, all equally bad, not just imperfect but bound to do a poor job at whatever they set their minds to, which will undoubtedly be a petty, irrelevant thing to begin with. Irrelevant, that is, because human intention seems not to matter to O'Connor. Enoch Emery, for example, is resentful and mean about the mysterious messages he receives through his "wise blood," but despite his lack of understanding he must obey; he is subject to grace. Hazel Motes attempts to deny his faith in Jesus, but Christ haunts him wherever he goes and whatever atrocity he commits, a nightmare figure whose presence implies that Hazel needs salvation and is therefore unclean.Did they know that even for that boy there, for that mean sinful unthinking boy standing there with his dirty hands clenching and unclenching at his sides, Jesus would die ten million deaths before He would let him lose his soul? He would chase him over the waters of sin! Did they doubt Jesus could walk on the waters of sin? That boy had been redeemed and Jesus wasn't going to leave him ever. Jesus would never let him forget he was redeemed. What did the sinner think there was to be gained? Jesus would have him in the end! The boy didn't need to hear it. There was already a deep black wordless conviction in him that the way to avoid Jesus was to avoid sin. He knew by the time he was twelve years old that he was going to be a preacher. Later he saw Jesus move from tree to tree in the back of his mind, a wild ragged figure motioning him to turn around and come off into the dark where he was not sure of his footing, where he might be walking on the water and not know it and suddenly know it and drown.But Motes cannot escape sin; he cannot escape Jesus; he cannot escape into some kind of humanist daydream that declares him already clean and in need of no salvation. For O'Connor humanity is inherently sub-par—the hucksters out for a buck, the sleazy waitresses and their sleazier customers; the tight-fisted landlady plagued by the suspicion that she's being cheated. No character in Wise Blood is empathetic; the best you could say for any of them is that they're conventional, or, looked at another way, that they're tortured and struggling. And it matters not whether they try to be good, or try to be bad: God is an incomprehensible mystery, and his grace is given regardless of human intent or action. That the two most sympathetic characters in the novel commit murder before the end of it, seems hardly relevant to their, in O'Connor's word, integrity: as she herself wrote, "grace changes us and change is painful." Based on her writings I'd say she opined in the other direction too: not only did grace imply pain, but pain equaled grace. When O'Connor's characters endure pain, they are closer to a state of grace. When Enoch Emery is most resentful; when Mrs. Flood is most troubled; when Hazel Motes wraps himself with barbed wire and fills his shoes with broken glass; they are, in O'Connor's mind, closer to God than when they are comfortable, and closer to God than the oblivious, semi-religious or secularist folks who stream by in blithe ignorance in her crowd scenes. Just as the murdered grandmother in "A Good Man is Hard to Find" "would have been a good woman, if it had been somebody there to shoot her every minute of her life"; just as the young boy in the story "The River" is closer to God when alone and drowning than at home with his drunk parents, tortured struggle is a sign, in Wise Blood, that grace has been received. Not because the recipient has become a more virtuous or better person, or because his tormentors are enlightened; on the contrary, the acts of torment are themselves more evidence of universal human corruption. It's just that, because of all humans' inherent badness, because they are intrinsically unable to fathom the mysteries of God and because their wills are inherently warped to desire the wrong things, human pain and discomfort is, for O'Connor, a fundamental symptom of the approach to the divine. The sham preacher who tells his congregants that "You don't have to believe nothing you don't understand and approve of" may be more comfortable and happy than Hazel Motes, and he may be no worse a person than Haze, but he is less in a state of grace. You can tell because he's not suffering, and because he is disregarding the fundamental mystery of existence.(Can I just reiterate that I IN NO WAY relate to this. Nor do I imagine that this is official Catholic doctrine or the majority Christian view. O'Connor was seriously dark! I am just trying to fathom the way her philosophy worked.)Much of the humor in Wise Blood comes from the disconnect between people who are suffering—people who are struggling, and doing daily battle with their religion—and those who are happy enough to drift along with conventional flow of life. O'Connor does not endow the sufferers and strugglers with any more intelligence than the complaisant secularists; most everyone in her novel is stupid as dirt. The strugglers, though, are gifted or cursed against their will with an instinct for living life at a symbolic, mythological level, which passes completely over everyone else's head. In this scene, for example, the protagonist Hazel Motes has just spotted a man he sees as his doppelgänger, another false prophet preaching from the hood of a car: Haze was standing next to a fat woman who after a minute turned her head and stared at him and then turned it again and stared at the True Prophet. Finally she touched his elbow with hers and grinned at him. "Him and you twins?" she asked. "If you don't hunt it down and kill it, it'll hunt you down and kill you," Haze answered. "Huh? Who?" she said. He turned away and she stared at him and he got back in his car and drove off. Then she touched the elbow of a man on the other side of her. "He's nuts," she said. "I never seen no twins that hunted each other down."Hazel is either too noble, too apathetic, or too self-centered, here, to notice that "If you don't hunt it down and kill it, it'll hunt you down and kill you" is not an appropriate thing to say out loud in company, even if you believe you have spotted some kind of shadow-self whom God is telling to to search out and destroy. Not too surprising, since by this point it has been long established that Hazel is well-nigh driven mad by his religious angst. What's funnier, to me, is the response of the fat woman. She doesn't think to herself, "Wow, that is a batshit crazy thing to say! Maybe I should call the cops." She doesn't even become alarmed and inch away from Haze through the crush. No, she has decided she's going to have a superficial conversation with another member of the gawking crowd, and when Hazel gives her an answer she's not expecting, she just turns to someone else and responds to the absolute surface level of his comment: "I never seen no twins that hunted each other down." It's hilarious because the two people appear to be having a conversation with each other, but they're actually not interacting at all. He's too deep into symbolism and metaphor to be conscious of the surface, whereas she's too committed to the superficial to recognize a metaphor when it's standing in front of her.And that's pretty much the fate, I think, of a secular person like me and a person of O'Connor's particular brand of extreme religiosity: we may attempt a conversation, but our words do not point to the same referents. I deeply admire what O'Connor does with the English language, and laugh at the bizarre interactions of her characters. I can even relate to the value of discomfort, in that it can stimulate human growth, and mystery, in that our existence contains more than we can fathom. But I, like her supposedly misguided secularist landlady, can't bring myself to admire what O'Connor admires, can't help asking myself why anyone would put themselves through such suffering if they believed in no hope of becoming a better person, especially considering all the pain and cruelty that already exist in the world. To do so is not useful—a shortcoming beyond which I am simply too utilitarian to move. For O'Connor, it is a mark of Hazel Motes's integrity that he is unable to escape his religious conviction; for me, who finds plenty of struggle and inspiration in secular life, it, and he, are merely incomprehensible.She was not religious or morbid, for which every day she thanked her stars. [...] What possible reason could a sane person have for wanting to not enjoy himself any more? She certainly couldn't say.
A story of dark and strange staggering beauty.Joy and pain, suffering and redemption.It's has dark cynical humour with characters of outrageous quality.There is plenty of work behind the structure of the story.She has included many issues around her during her time and locality, they are of beauty, child neglect and abuse, racism and police brutality.Watch out for these things as you read this along as you might not pick up what she trying to convey.His large hat and clothing seem to give everyone an idea that he is a preacher and his body seems to imbue that he's a preacher and a believer. But he's wants others to see that he's an admirable nihilist. This war he has with himself accepting and refuting continues throughout.This is no picket fence Walt Disney happy ending story. A very Flannery O'Connor like mood of story dark and strange but very human, they all seem to be on a road the characters to somewhere in this story. She is trying in a way to say, due to her beliefs and new testament understanding, that every believer is really in a sort of suffering prison in this world expectant of a happier life after death. The suffering and obstacles that the characters face all seem to be part of that road to understandings of a bigger picture. The main character Hazel Motes is bent on proving there is no need for a redeemer and Christ, with his mission of starting a church 'the church without Christ' and fails in getting followers. This failure in his journey seems to turn him back to the very whole Redemption topic he has been trying to disprove and turn away from and seems to come back full circle.Will he take it on? How will his journey end?Flannery tackles big things in her life here and has it all symbolically imbued in the text. She written a story that even a person with not even a grain of belief in God will still look back and enjoy and many ponder over her mastery and brilliance in the literary field.Most of her characters are in suffering or a generally unpleasant people. her symbolism and characters Ochange and shift meaning throughout this novel and her other works. There is a catalog of suffering and struggle in her writing. Flannery describes her female characters with ugliness and describes the body in a fragmented way, disconnecting the hands and feet when describing a body in the story, possibly she is trying to use a certain style inspired by the southern society regard of women and beauty and anther important factor her own decline in health with lupus causing disfigurement and mutation.To recap a short novel but outstanding in structure, characters and story. Filled with joy and suffering, escape and discovery, brutally human with dark humor. There is some light and I think it comes with the readers experience and interpretation. 'You then,' he said impatiently, pointing at the next one.'What church you belong to ?''Church of Christ,' the boy said in a falsetto to hide the truth.'Church of Christ!' Haze repeated.'Well, I preach rather Church Without Christ. I'm member and preacher to that church where the blind don't see and the lame don't walk and what's dead stays that way. Ask me about that church and I'll tell you it's the church that the blood of Jesus don't foul with redemption.' ""I like his eyes . They don't look like they see what he's looking at but they keep on looking."Sabbath Lily Hawkes. Review also @ http://more2read.com/review/wise-blood-by-flannery-oconnor/"I wouldn't have you believe nothing you can't feel in your own hearts."Onnie Jay Holy
Do You like book Wise Blood (2007)?
A escritora Flannery O´Connor (1925 – 1964) é unanimemente reconhecida como um dos expoentes máximos da literatura norte-americana do século XX, particularmente aclamada pela genialidade dos seus trinta e dois contos, coligidos em dois volumes: “Um Bom Homem É Difícil de Encontrar” e “ Tudo o Que Sobe Deve Convergir”, que combinam o cómico, o violento, o trágico e o brutal.“Sangue Sábio” e o “Céu É dos Violentos” são os seus dois únicos romances publicados e que se inserem na tradição Gótica Sulista, focada na religiosidade e na decadência do Sul e nas suas gentes malditas.“Sangue Sábio”, publicado em 1952, é o seu romance de estreia e apresenta-nos Hazel Motes que regressa para a sua casa em Eastrod, no Tennessee, depois de ser desmobilizado do serviço militar, após a Segunda Guerra Mundial, emocionalmente e espiritualmente mudado. O seu avô tinha sido um pregador itinerante bramindo o evangelho e proclamando que “Jesus morrera para os redimir! Jesus tinha tanta fome de almas que morrera uma morte por todos, mas podia bem ter morrido uma morte por cada alma!”. Motes cresce perseguido pelo pecado, revelando “uma instintiva convicção, negra e profunda, de que a forma de evitar Jesus era evitar o pecado.”As inúmeras personagens que se vão “reunindo” com Hazel Motes apresentam comportamentos estranhos e bizarros, que vão tentando lidar com as sua próprias crises individuais, seja emocional ou espiritual, ou numa conjugação dos dois estados e com a mentira, a hipocrisia, a vingança e o arrependimento, com destaque para Emoch Emery, um jovem de dezoito anos, tratador num jardim zoológico, detentor do seu “sangue sábio”, para Asa Hawks, um pregador autoproclamado “cego” e sua degenerada filha Lily Sabbath, para Leora Watts, uma prostituta que lhe dá guarita e para Hoover Shoats, um charlatão, fundador da “Santa Igreja de Cristo sem Cristo”. O romance de Flannery O´Connor está repleto de personagens intrigantes, com relacionamentos díspares e abstractos, associados a comportamentos extremos num fanatismo religioso ou a um simbolismo místico. Um livro admirável que revela uma originalidade temática, que oscila entre um realismo atroz e uma comédia negra.
—João Carlos
My first feature-lengthed O'Connor, Wise Blood brought to mind an old friend, Sherwood Anderson, and his Book of Groteques as seen in Winesburg, Ohio. Trouble is, I kind of felt sorry for a lot of the grotesques in the Anderson. I can't say the same for O'Connor's motley crew, and trust me when I say this lot puts the "motley" in crew. Hazel Motes is a guy, for starters, who is 22 and about as likable as a serpent that weighs heavily on its scales. He founds some Church of Christ Without Christ or something. The anti-religion, maybe. Darkly funny in its way, but it's hard to laugh in pitch dark because the echo is so heavy and a little uncomfortable sounding. He's on a train to Nowhere, and when he gets there he meets an even more grotesque kid, 18-year-old Enoch, who decides that kidnapping a mummified, shrunken man from a museum is the equivalent of forcing the second coming of Christ. "Lord," the reader mutters, feeling closer to Christ (for comfort, if nothing else) every second.Throw into this mixed-up melange a false preacher/alcoholic who pretends he blinded himself years ago, his wanton daughter who stalks Haze, and a second false preacher who kidnaps Haze's idea and one-ups it with another Church of Christ Without Christ Only Without Jesus (I've got that title wrong, but it's something equally preposterous) and you'll understand that this isn't Kansas anymore.Reading this book is like passing an accident on the highway. I will not look, I will not look, I will... OK, maybe I'll look... but only for a second, mind you! Next thing you know, it's over, and you're wondering, "What the hell hath man wrought here?" only you can fill in "man" with "Flannery O'Connor" if you want. No matter what you come up with for answers, your blood will be none the wiser, trust me. You'll just know that man and religion make for one strange brew -- leave it at that.
—Newengland
This is my first O'Connor. I've heard so many good things about her which made this novel even more disappoiting. I'm not sure if it's a satire/commentary on atheism or about the irony of life but whatever it is, instead of being comic, it's mocking and mean spirited. Hazel Motes comes out of the army and finds that his home is gone and heads to the nearest city in Tennessee. He's had a crummy life up til then, both of his brothers are died early in life, his dad died in his youth and the strict religious mother that raised him also passed on. With a stretch in the armed forces leaving him disillusioned he goes into the city preaching about the Church Without Christ. He runs into and becomes obsessed with a blind preacher who turns out to be not so blind and a crook to boot. Homely girl who falls for him. But he pursues his Church Without Christ as passionately as any zealot. He sins but has deep issues with doing so. Hazel is an atheist in name only because he acts as religious as anyone can. Then there's the blind preacher, his antithesis, the Godly man who lives in ungodly fashion. What's more annoying then the storyline is the writing style. It's in the simple vernacular of country folk, and it feels put on, fake. It's tedious and it doesn't enrich the work. I don't understand why this is such a classic. I guess all of the people can be wrong some of the time.
—Alan Chen
