This story, and childhood and growing up

[a_contemplative_life]

Let's not forget that from the very beginning, JAL wanted to write a story that related to his experiences as a child growing up in Blackeberg. There is a very distinct undertone throughout the whole story--as seen through the prism of JAL/Oskar's perception--that adults are disappointing creatures--that most of them are confused, blind, self-centered, unreliable, and imperfect. That they are not really qualified to teach a child about true love and true commitment. The other main theme is, of course, the bullying, and how a supernatural friend comes along to help Oskar overcome the bullies who torment him. Given these things, I do not see how Eli could have been anything other than a child (setting aside for a moment the whole 12/200 yr dichotomy). Making Eli an adult would have greatly undermined the "us vs. them" theme between the world of kids and adults that pervades the story, which is told directly through Oskar's eyes. JAL is saying, in some respects, that the world of adults, as he perceives it, is not something worth growing up to; that there is a kind of corruption that occurs when we mature into adults that he wants to reject; that maybe the highest and best form of love we can experience as human beings is this sort of pre-adolescent, friendship-based love that is not circumscribed by notions of marriage and sexuality. (The only ambiguity that I see in JAL's perception of a preferred notion of love is responsibility.) I think, though, that he firmly rejects the idea that life and love get better as we get older.

[Sevil Ile]

In the novel, after Oskar strikes back and the bullying temporarily ceases, Oskar feels he no longer belongs with his peers, and I was left strongly with the feeling that he has matured considerably, though not joined the adult world.

I would say that Oskar becomes estranged from his peers and from the world he has been living in, and only "matures" insofar that he becomes aware of his own estrangement and (subconsciously) of the course of action he needs to take to quell the existential void corroding his interior in Eli's absence. He becomes more self-aware, but instead of choosing one of society's preconfigured paths through life, he rejects society altogether. Does this qualify for a "mature" decision?

[PeteMork]

Let's not forget that from the very beginning, JAL wanted to write a story that related to his experiences as a child growing up in Blackeberg. There is a very distinct undertone throughout the whole story--as seen through the prism of JAL/Oskar's perception--that adults are disappointing creatures--that most of them are confused, blind, self-centered, unreliable, and imperfect. That they are not really qualified to teach a child about true love and true commitment. The other main theme is, of course, the bullying, and how a supernatural friend comes along to help Oskar overcome the bullies who torment him. Given these things, I do not see how Eli could have been anything other than a child (setting aside for a moment the whole 12/200 yr dichotomy). Making Eli an adult would have greatly undermined the "us vs. them" theme between the world of kids and adults that pervades the story, which is told directly through Oskar's eyes. JAL is saying, in some respects, that the world of adults, as he perceives it, is not something worth growing up to; that there is a kind of corruption that occurs when we mature into adults that he wants to reject; that maybe the highest and best form of love we can experience as human beings is this sort of pre-adolescent, friendship-based love that is not circumscribed by notions of marriage and sexuality. (The only ambiguity that I see in JAL's perception of a preferred notion of love is responsibility.) I think, though, that he firmly rejects the idea that life and love get better as we get older.

Thank you, ACL. I couldn’t have said it any better myself (or even half as well, it turns out.) And now we’ve come full circle. This was my point in discussing the “Peter Pan” syndrome in the first place, both here and in another thread; the innocence of youth and the relative perfection of pre-adolescent love is an integral part of what makes the story resonate so well, at least for me. And the bitter-sweet notion that it may never get any better than that.

[PeteMork]

Come on, now, people, let's see a show of hands: how many of you watched Harold and Maude? He was a young man, in his teens if I'm not mistaken, and she was near EIGHTY. People who've seen it may remember having seen it if you mention it, but they would probably never dredge up the movie unprompted..

Actually, in these parts that film was a cult film. You were weird if you hadn't seen it and weirder if you didn't just love it. The bridge Maude drove the tree across was the old Dumbarton bridge, not more than 10 miles from our house. Some of it was filmed on University Avenue in Palo Alto (where the tree was stolen in the first place), and all of it in the San Francisco Bay area.

(My own feelings about the film were quite mixed, in spite of the fact that I "Got It") I particularly loved Harold's car, and cried when he...well, you'll all have to see the film to find out what happened to that beautiful car.

The second reason the children had to (appear to) be young, vulnerable and unformed because, well... they are we, and we are they. They are the avatars of the selves we were before the world splattered a hardening crust of disillusionment on us. Oskar and Eli are mirrors of those selves that still survive hidden deep within ourselves, the voices of joy and of terror we hear when we dream.

But I don't think this brings us substantially closer to PeteMork's "Truth". We've known this for a couple of years.

QFT, Darn it!

[DavidZahir]

Playing semi-Devils' advocate here, I'm not sure I'd agree that the story is any particular indictment of the adult world per se, as opposed to the world in general. Yet with all the darkness and injustice and loneliness that frankly seems everywhere, I also see hope. People do find each other sometimes, and find joy in that fact. Even in situations about as soul-killing as one can imagine, we can find love.

Indeed, I read that JAL said somewhere that if LTROI has any kind of message it is "Don't give up on love."

The same thing applies to LMI or so it seems to yours truly. One really gets the impression that, despite all the torture and pain in their lives, the worst thing both Abby and Owen endure is loneliness. Yet with each other they find a balm. Will it last forever? Almost certainly not. Speaking as a widower, I fell utterly qualified to state That Makes What They Have More Precious.

Parenthetically, I'd also point out the worst monsters in the film are pretty young. Thomas kills to keep someone he cares about alive. Abby kills to survive. Kenny and his cohorts tortured and tried to commit murder for the sake of...fun? Meanwhile at least three adults come across as helpful, kind and good--the jogger, the detective and Mr. Zorin.

[lombano]

Playing semi-Devils' advocate here, I'm not sure I'd agree that the story is any particular indictment of the adult world per se, as opposed to the world in general.

But this is not Lord of the Flies - it's the adults who are supposed to be in charge. Also, Owen/Oskar's world is very much a man-made disaster. I don't view it so much as an indictment of adulthood per se, but nevertheless Oskar seems to disown the adult world of Blackeberg. His 'coming of age' involves rejecting the adult world immediately around him.

Parenthetically, I'd also point out the worst monsters in the film are pretty young. Thomas kills to keep someone he cares about alive. Abby kills to survive. Kenny and his cohorts tortured and tried to commit murder for the sake of...fun? Meanwhile at least three adults come across as helpful, kind and good--the jogger, the detective and Mr. Zorin.

In this respect, the novel is the version harshest on adults - Avila is basically the only positive adult character. Unlike the world of adults, which Oskar disowns and Owen flees, the world of his peers is one which has rejected Oskar/Owen. He doesn't leave it because he was never really part of it except at a superficial, mechanical level. You can't quit what you've never been part of, but you can renounce something you were expected to become part of eventually.

[DavidZahir]

I don't view it so much as an indictment of adulthood per se, but nevertheless Oskar seems to disown the adult world of Blackeberg. His 'coming of age' involves rejecting the adult world immediately around him.

Good point.

In this respect, the novel is the version harshest on adults.

True, although I quite like Lacke.

[gattoparde59]

My feeling is that if this is an autobiographical story, the "coming of age" part comes at the end when Oskar leaves Blackeberg on the train. Oskar is escaping this place which isn't so much a place as it is all the worst aspects of his childhood, including the various immature adult characters who have failed Oskar in some way.

This is also a love story, and I have always been struck the way this love story plays out in terms of child hood. Eli and Oskar begin by sharing a toy with each other. They eventually sleep together but their "love making" takes the form of games. Rock paper scissors in the novel, bulleri bulleri bock in the film version (an aspect that almost disappears but not quite in the film). The two are playing a game just before Oskar discovers Eli's secret.

As has been pointed out already in this thread, the story revolves around the innocent way that children build friendships with each other. There are other positives of children being explored: the miraculous ability of children to recover from frightful injuries. Oskar travels from abject despair to pure happiness under the influence of Eli and vice versa. Also among the special gifts of children is the ability to love and accept someone, even when they appear to be a monster. (This is an old idea repeated in many different stories) Oskar at the end of the story moves on to a new life for himself, he grows up, but with the idea that he is going to retain the special qualities of a child. Not his childhood mind you, which is depressing, but the miraculous qualities of a child.

I think, though, that he firmly rejects the idea that life and love get better as
we get older.

I am not so sure that is the case here. Perhaps he is saying that we can hold on to the best parts of childhood as we get older. We can live in an adult world, but reject the immature and self-centered parts of that world?

The only ambiguity that I see in JAL's perception of a preferred notion of love is responsibility.

My impression is that at the end of the story, Oskar is taking responsibility for Eli in a parental way. The heavy box he takes with him appears (to me at least) as a kind of cradle for the vulnerable Eli. That is not is not the impression I get at the end of Let Me In. Owen sings his ominously infantile candy jingle, and he seems pre-destined to share the fate of Thomas. That pre-destination becomes the whole purpose of Thomas in the story, a slave to perpetual adolescence.