If I were to strap weights to my shoes, or boots for that matter, it might make it a little difficult to walk, and very hard to run. Heavy boots would weigh me down. Oscar Schell seems to get “heavy boots” when he is in low spirits, usually from some reminder, no matter how remote, of the September 11 tragedy.
Oscar, his grandmother, and his grandfather have experienced terrible things in their lives. Oscar lost his father in the attacks, and he spends the book desperately seeking out his father. He knows what he’s looking for (the lock for the key), but he doesn’t know what he wants to find, and that’s the problem. Oscar’s grandfather lost Anna, his love. He’s trying to find her too—he thought he did when he met Oscar’s grandmother, but he still did not know what to find when he found what he was looking for. That’s why he left Oscar’s grandmother. As for the grandmother herself, she’s looking for everything she’s left behind in the past: the life she could have had in Dresden, the real life she could have lived with her husband, and the life she never even finished with him. She’s afraid of losing another piece of her life; that’s why she’s so protective of Oscar. This trio of characters cannot find what there’re looking for because even if they did know what they wanted to find, they could not find it because what they want are things lost forever in the past. The only things left are the present and the lives left to live.
Although it is my conjecture that Oscar probably uses the phrase “heavy boots” in the sense that his spirits are weighed down by tragedy, it symbolizes the weight on their symbolic boots. They wear these boots down the path of life and with these self-applied weights they hinder their own pace. They linger on the path, wallowing in despair and a vain sense of possessiveness, when they should stride forward to the new lands ahead.
John Quincy Adams, the sixth President of the United States. If he was unsuited for politics, his duty and conscience made him so.
8 comments:
Excellent Job! I enjoyed reading your interpretation on "heavy boots." I agreed that these heavy boots may have been Oskar's pain and suffering, but also symbolized greater things in the end. Good job!
Well, I'm glad you liked it. Unfortunately, if I understand your comments correctly, you misunderstood my post. In hindsight, I don’t think I made this clear enough. Like Anonymous, I think that the abstract “boots” are of the characters’ own creations. Oscar makes his boots heavy by reigniting the possessiveness in him when he is reminded of his dead father (the boots are heavy and they hold him back on “the path of life”). In my last paragraph, I’m trying to define how Oscar the character uses the phrase, as opposed to what it actually symbolized. To Oscar, these heavy boots were the emotional pain and suffering of his loss weighing down his spirit. In truth, the “boots” are a symbol to the reader of Oscar’s self-imposed possessiveness, the consequential despair, and the “weight” on his life’s progress, rather than despair and melancholy imposed upon him by others. I also did not comment on the end of the novel. I haven’t given it serious critical thought; consequently, I haven’t stated (nor have I come to any conclusion on) whether Oscar sheds himself of his possessiveness at the end of the work. I think he may have, but I’m not prepared to make a qualified statement on it at this time.
Mr. Monk,
Are you sure that this trio didn't know what they were looking for? Or was it more simply that they did not have the strength to go out and grab it?
Oskar and his grandparents had each suffered terrible tragedies in their lives. Oskar lost his father, his grandmother lost his sister, and his grandfather lost the love of his life. Each of these characters experience horrible pain, a loss that cannot be repaired.
They know that they desire to be healed, hence the reason each of them embark on their quests. They also know that this healing can only come from the love of another person. However, what these characters fail to do is turn to each other until the very end. Each of them shares a common bond that gives them the power to help each other. Their only failure is in not using it sooner.
Hey "The Monk" I tried to elaborate for you the questions that you had about my blog post in my comments section. Check it out!!! Hopefully it helps:)
To Ziggy and anyone who had questions during today’s discussion,
Oskar’s looking for a lock that might not exist. After all, it could be any one of the thousands of locks in the city, if it isn’t a lock in possession of one of the many Blacks. It’s quite a formidable task for those of even elevated interest. Nothing but a diehard determination could cause one to search like Oscar does for his lock. It’s not a determination set in by curiosity—Oskar wants his father (which is fine) and he wants any part he can have of him (which is probably not altogether unhealthy). What makes the difference here is that Oskar is all-consumed by an impossible search that, had there not been a stroke of luck, would have been in vain. A lock is also just a lock; it’s what behind it (he doesn’t know what) that superficially motivates Oskar. Why take on an impossible search for a lock protecting items that are unknown or nonexistent? He doesn’t know what’s he actually looking for, whether in the physical sense (the items under the protection of the lock) or the abstract sense (anything which could bring him his father, whom he could never have back because he is dead). Oskar, like his grandfather before him, is looking for people he can’t have—how could he possibly find something to “bring back” the dead in any substantial way?
Love of the dead and the living should never leave us. Grief is a cruel force, but it is one that should pass. Sometimes it lingers forever, and that is unfortunate. Being a cruel force, however, grievers should try to the best of their ability to dispel the grief; what they should never do is try, intentionally or unintentionally, to prolong their sufferings, which, had it not a fortunate turn, the search might have amplified from failure. Oskar, even in a state of emotion, should possess the proper state of mind to know that such a search is nearly impossible—he simply chooses to ignore that it could hurt him.
Mr. Monk,
I reread my comment, and I was commenting when you said that you would agree that having 'heavy boots" would be hard to run in. And by that the cause of this heaviness is his heaviness of pain and suffering. Does this clarify?
KABUNKY auo
Thanks! No, my sister has not since recovered, but she is doing better. I honestly didn't source much for the post; it's really just things that I know about. However, an interesting point that you brought up: is OCD a threat to the individual and others? No. Most compulsive behaviors caused by OCD are in fact to protect others from harm and from anything that may be threatening them. However, the anxiety that can be caused by OCD could potentially cause a threat to oneself: going hand in hand with depression, I would say that that amount of frustration could cause one to be a threat to themselves; this is a stretch though, I don't claim to be a doctor.
Tripleaye, thanks for getting back to me. Ms. H., if you read this, Tripleaye was just responding to a comment I left on Tripleaye’s blog.
As for Kabunky…
Although I have only been able to read a few other blog posts so far, I can say that, judging from yesterday’s discussion, that some of my classmates believe that Oskar’s heavy boots are so because of the pain and suffering from the loss he has endured. While this is a compelling argument, I beg to differ. I believe that, because of the need for unity of themes among characters and other symbolic considerations, that the boots are heavy because Oskar makes them so through his partly unconscious, futile possessiveness of his father. When I say “heavy boots,” I mean that the boots that he symbolically wears are heavy enough to prevent him from moving forward due to his own possessiveness. Since he cannot get what he wants (his father) he despairs; that is not to say that some or most of his emotion is grief, and Oskar should be expected to have grief. It’s just that by embarking on such an adventure in search of his dead father, Oskar is doing the opposite of healing—he’s not trying to alleviate his grief. Oskar shouldn’t forget his father or stop loving him, but he should try to move on.
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