Shipwrecked : Disaster and Transformation in Homer, Shakespeare, Defoe, and the Modern World

James V. Morrison

• Publisher: University of Michigan Press
• Year: 2016
• ISBN:
  9780472902101
• Topic: Letteratura
• Subtopic: Critica letteraria inglese

This book presents the first comparative study of notable literary shipwrecks from the past four thousand years, focusing on Homer's Odyssey, Shakespeare's The Tempest, and Defoe's Robinson Crusoe. James V. Morrison considers the historical context as well as the "triggers" (such as the 1609 Bermuda shipwreck) that inspired some of these works, and modern responses such as novels (Golding's Lord of the Flies, Coetzee's Foe, and Gordon's First on Mars, a science fiction version of the Crusoe story), movies, television (Forbidden Planet, Cast Away, and Lost), and the poetry and plays of Caribbean poets Derek Walcott and Aimé Césaire.For survivors who are stranded on an island for some period of time, shipwrecks often present the possibility of a change in political and social status—as well as romance and even paradise. In each of the major shipwreck narratives examined, the poet or novelist links the castaways' arrival on a new shore with the possibility of a new sort of life.

CHAPTER 1

Shipwreck Narratives

Swept Away, an Italian film directed by Lina Wertmüller (1975), opens with a luxury yacht anchored in the beautiful blue Mediterranean. Wealthy couples explore caves, swim, drink, gamble, and live in a kind of paradise. Prominent among them is Raffaella (played by Mariangela Melato), who is blonde, spoiled, and arrogant. Among the crew on board is Gennarino (played by Giancarlo Giannini), a Communist with dark hair and a beard, who serves food, wine, and coffee to the owners and puts up with their disdain.

The adventure begins when Raffaella decides to go for a swim at dusk. Gennarino takes her toward the caves in one of the inflatable dinghies, though he warns that it is late, that the current is strong, and that the wind is against them. When the engine stalls, Raffaella assumes that they will be rescued, but Gennarino intones, “Speriamo” (Let's hope so). They spend the night in the dinghy and wake up surrounded by water, with no land in sight. Even when the engine starts, they do not know which way to go.

After two nights adrift, they find land and row in. This is not a true shipwreck—though Raffaella keeps calling it that—but more of a “drifting away” (the full title of the film is Swept Away…by an Unusual Destiny in the Blue Sea of August).¹ Though Raffaella is delighted at landfall and assumes that they will find a hotel, Gennarino immediately climbs up rocky terrain and announces that they are on a “wild, uninhabited island.” No one—“Not a soul”—is there. This leads to a pivotal moment, for Raffaella orders Gennarino to climb again to make sure. He refuses, and when she says, “You can't draw blood from a stone,” Gennarino erupts. No longer will he defer: “I'll do what I fucking like…Go fuck yourself.”

Gennarino and Raffaella respond to the shipwreck situation in very different ways. Gennarino is extremely competent: he finds an abandoned chapel for shelter, catches a lobster, starts a fire by reflecting the sun's rays off a water bottle, retrieves fresh water from a river, and cooks his own meal. He sits there like a king enjoying his feast. Using his only tool, a pocket knife, he later sharpens reeds for fishing and snares a rabbit. Raffaella finds only a tiny sea urchin and comes begging for food. She asks how Gennarino can eat “while others are starving.” Gennarino finds this query wickedly ironic, coming from a rich woman who symbolizes wealth's unjust distribution in society. When Raffaella attempts to buy his fish, she is told that it is not for sale. Capitalism is overthrown. Gennarino instructs Raffaella that she must earn her food by working—in this case, by washing his underpants. She must also say “please” and call him “Signore Carunchio” (signore meaning not only “mister” but also “lord” and “master”). The next day, Gennarino makes Raffaella wait on him just as he waited on her while on the yacht. That night, he sleeps alone in the chapel, slamming the door in Raffaella's face.

The contrasts in the two islanders are obvious: male and female, rich and poor, capitalist and communist, and capable and clueless regarding survival.² When Raffaella remarks that they must soon be rescued, he asks, “Who knows?” It may be years before they are rescued. But one thing is clear—their relationship has changed. The traditional Gennarino prescribes the new hierarchy: “You are a woman…You will wait on me…You will learn who the master is.” Gennarino tells Raffaella to kiss her master's hand, and this leads to violence. When she is about to submit to his attempted rape, he rejects her: “I'm saying no!” He wants her to love him and view him as her god. Gennarino is clearly in charge, and soon they willingly make love by the fire, on sand dunes, and in the waves by the beach.

This desert island has become a place of profound change. Such transformations are often explicitly announced. After his first angry outburst, Gennarino declares, “Gennarino is no more.” He is now lord and master (the “only one to make decisions”), while Raffaella is his servant. She also acknowledges, “I'm no longer my own self.” When a boat appears, Raffaella does not signal it and tells Gennarino that she has been “swept away by a crazy dream” and does not want it to end. She feels they now have a new life: “You and I were born here.” The past is irrelevant: “What do you care what we were before?”³ After “shipwreck,” these two stranded survivors must redefine their identities and their relationship.

Over time, Gennarino seeks proof that Raffaella is truly his, so when another boat appears, he signals it, and they are rescued. Raffaella's husband comes in by helicopter; Gennarino's wife emotionally cries, “I thought you were dead!” Reentry into the “old” world breaks whatever spell there was and returns Gennarino and Raffaella to the lives they led before.

This book presents the first comparative study of literary shipwrecks from the past four thousand years. The recurrent treatment of shipwrecks in epic poetry, drama, novels, science fiction, movies, television, and contemporary advertising demonstrates an enduring fascination with this scenario. I have narrowed my focus to those stories in which shipwreck survivors are stuck on an island for some period of time. In this situation—as we see in Swept Away—shipwrecks present the survivor with possibilities for a change in political and social status and for finding romance or even paradise. In some situations, this transformation may be considered a “rebirth” or “reinvention of self.”⁴ While a storm, the destruction of the ship, loss of human life, and isolation from perhaps all civilization may seem disastrous, this dramatic turn of events may still offer a positive outcome: a new sort of life.

Three works confront the question of shipwreck, transformation, and new roles in an especially provocative and probing manner: Homer's Odyssey, Shakespeare's The Tempest, and Defoe's Robinson Crusoe. In Homer's Odyssey, shipwrecks challenge Odysseus' sense of self by forcing him to contemplate alternative forms of existence. He must fight to maintain—and at times regain—his identity. Shakespeare's The Tempest explores the central themes of authority on and ownership of the island. In this play, the shipwreck itself appears to free the arrivals from any previous restraint: the island is a space where transformation can take place. Two central themes in Defoe's Robinson Crusoe are Crusoe's efforts to reestablish civilization and his inner transformation, a type of spiritual rebirth. In addition to analyzing these influential works, I will here explore a select number of modern adaptations, mostly from the twentieth century, some familiar (Lord of the Flies, Gilligan's Island), some perhaps less so (the works of Caribbean writers Derek Walcott and Aimé Césaire). In each case, the narrative links transformation with the shipwreck scenario.

Shipwreck narratives generally include a common set of features. First, we encounter the storm at sea. Descriptions may include the lack of distinction between sea and sky and desperate prayers of those on board a ship. A frequent experience for shipwreck survivors is profound ignorance, regarding where they are (or if they are even on an island) and whether they face danger from savage cannibals or wild beasts. Connected to the theme of ignorance is the possibility of a divine epiphany; that is, a god may live on the island and meet the survivor, or those who live on the island may encounter (or believe they are encountering) a divinity emerging from the sea.

If the island is deserted, the survivor must obtain water, food, and shelter. The absence of “civilization” forces survivors to re-create the culture they knew before; failure to do so would bring about a more primitive mode of life. If more than one person arrives or if the island is already inhabited, a social hierarchy must be established, often at odds with the situation before the shipwreck. Since the time of Defoe's Robinson Crusoe, the recurring leitmotif of a footprint on the beach indicates, of course, that the survivor is not alone. The panorama of shipwreck narratives from ancient Egypt to the contemporary Caribbean reveals how islands, cut off from other inhabited lands, come to represent new worlds. It is remarkable that the situations facing the survivors of Oceanic Flight 815 in the television show Lost (2004–10) or that of Raffaella and Gennarino in Swept Away share so many features with Homer's Odyssey and Shakespeare's The Tempest.

Homer, Shakespeare, and Defoe not only tie shipwreck to the opportunities of another life; in different ways, each of these works calls into question the definition of the self. Indeed, the central thesis of this book is that authors of literary shipwrecks are continually exploring the identities and potential new roles of survivors. Sudden change marks a new stage in a person's life; shipwrecks provide that pivotal hinge that distinguishes who you were from who you may become.

I should make two qualifications. First, it is certainly true that people embark on a new sort of existence due to many circumstances, such as war, exile, enslavement, or escape from captivity—sometimes by choice, sometimes by necessity. Nevertheless, there appears to be a particular appeal to the idea of a group of people isolated on an island: a little universe is created, in which drama may unfold. Part of this fascination derives from the primal human fear that such disasters threaten not only survival but also one's sense of self. We think we know who we are, yet these shipwreck narratives call into question one's very identity.

Second, when I speak of “transformation” or “a new life,” I realize I am entering an area of much controversy, that of identity. I will follow a common-sense approach, based to a great extent on how we speak about ourselves. To be sure, memories are an important part of how a person thinks of himself or herself. In addition, people may identify themselves by family connections, hometown, or relations with others. We often mention activities or professions as a part of identity: for example, merchant, doctor, shipwright, farmer, storyteller. Today, gender, ethnicity, sexual orientation, nationality, religion, and politics are all voiced to explain who we are. When we contemplate “transformation,” this new identity consists partly of an outer labeling from taking on a new name, engaging in new activities, or a change in status. But there may also be an inner transformation, such as what Robinson Crusoe experiences. When I refer to a new sort of existence, this points, at a minimum, to a significant change that the character becomes aware of, remarks on, or considers adopting. Shipwrecks provide the setting for such alterations.

Each chapter of this book will focus on one or two aspects of the shipwreck narrative. Chapter 2 demonstrates that shipwrecks allow the poet to explore new roles and relationships for Odysseus, including an offer of immortality. Yet shipwrecks also serve as obstacles to Odysseus' goal of returning to his former life in Ithaca. Chapter 3 explores narratives with survivors who, unlike Odysseus, accept the new roles offered by shipwreck, including the four-thousand-year-old Egyptian “Tale of the Shipwrecked Sailor.” Chapter 3 and subsequent chapters analyze how later works, such as Walcott's stage version of The Odyssey: A Stage Version (1993b), respond to Homer, Shakespeare, and Defoe. These juxtapositions indicate the range of variation for a particular scenario and also suggest how normative the “classical” models actually are.

Chapter 4, on Shakespeare's The Tempest, presents a shipwreck scenario that leads to social competition and the attempted seizure of power. There is a sense in which shipwrecks allow for a new start: both self and society may be transformed. Chapter 5 explores precursors and successors to The Tempest: Saint Paul's shipwreck in the book of Acts; Césaire's A Tempest (1968), a rewriting of Shakespeare's play; and Forbidden Planet (1956), a science fiction film that translates the shipwreck scenario to outer space. In certain historical eras—often characterized by the exploration of “new worlds” and advances in technology—artists are likely to imagine adventure, mishap, and a new life borne after shipwreck (or its equivalent in outer space). In the modern world, questions of identity and possible reinvention present challenges for those who, descended from slaves or dominated by colonial powers, obtain political freedom and control over their own lives. An instance is Césaire's A Tempest, which sets the issue of new roles against the context of the postcolonial world.⁵

In chapter 6, I explore how Defoe's Robinson Crusoe, a single survivor on an uninhabited island, works to recapitulate human technological and cultural advances (agriculture, domestication of animals, etc.). Interestingly, we often find a real-life “trigger” that has inspired the poet, playwright, or novelist. Much as the shipwreck of the Sea Venture off the coast of Bermuda in 1609 inspired Shakespeare's The Tempest (1611), the tale of Alexander Selkirk's marooned existence off Chile's coast (1704–9) influenced various aspects of Crusoe's life as presented in Defoe's novel (1719).

Chapters 7, 8, and 9 examine precursors and adaptations of Defoe's novel. As I discuss in chapter 7, Sophocles' Philoctetes is not shipwrecked, yet his isolation on a deserted island presents one of the earliest “anthropological” views of human development. In fact, the play Philoctetes, the film Cast Away, and the science fiction novel First on Mars undermine any confidence promised by Crusoe's many successes. Chapter 8 examines how the Crusoe story might be retold. In Walcott's drama Pantomime (1978), two actors contemplate rewriting the relationship of Crusoe and Friday. In Coetzee's novel Foe (1986), a new character, Susan, finds herself shipwrecked on “Cruso's” island and offers tremendous insight into the survivor's need to control the shipwreck narrative itself. Chapter 9 discusses the tension between group effort and conflict in the novels The Mysterious Island and Lord of the Flies and the television series Lost and Gilligan's Island. The conclusion in chapter 10 examines the marketing of shipwreck scenarios today. Islands in the Caribbean, Mediterranean, or South Pacific are often represented without inhabitants, suggesting shipwreck as a utopian escape.

What do we gain from this comparative study? In part, we can appreciate how attitudes shift toward the opportunities offered by shipwreck. Homer's Odyssey reveals a trajectory of returning to the previous order. Despite enticing new temptations, Odysseus—and some of the figures in The Tempest—revert to their previous lives, rejecting what many might consider to be paradise. Odysseus is reestablished as king; Prospero travels back to Milan. In such situations, we may more properly speak of potential transformations. Other shipwreck narratives—including many recent works—resist such a resolution and instead embrace the possibility of a new sort of existence. Only by juxtaposing ancient and modern narratives can we appreciate the vitality of the archetypal scene of a shipwreck survivor confronting the elements.

The focus of this book is quite narrow. The three narratives offered by Homer, Shakespeare, and Defoe are extremely influential and deserve our close examination. The inclusion of selected other literary and cinematic treatments has been determined...