In Chapter Eight, Nellie meets Robin in the hotel she is staying at. They have a memorable night together, leading to Nellie’s loss of virginity. While this has been a topic for much of the story, the actual event is quite anticlimactic. In your opinion, what is Nellie’s motivation for sleeping with Robin? Is there motivation? Following that thought, is this act one of selflessness or selfishness? Nellie knows what awaits Robin at war, therefore she is providing him with a kindness. A night of pleasure and warmth before he goes into the horror of the trenches. On the other hand, he could be serving as a distraction. She could be taking advantage of this offered opportunity to distance herself from her past life (in the traumatic war) and the future that is to come (at her tragic home). She has many things on her mind, including her worry over going mad and her lack of awareness: “I don’t care…something has gone from me that will never return” (pp 169). Is Robin an escape for Nellie, a last act of tenderness for his benefit, or something else entirely?
Nellie has known about Roy’s interest in her since Chapter Four, when he writes a letter alerting Nellie to his coming arrival in France. Her response then is “Poor Roy,” a much different reaction to their eventual meeting in Chapter Nine (pp 75). When Nellie goes on her first date with Roy, she relays most of her feelings and activities as being “Queer” (pp 188-190). How do you interpret the continuous use of this word? Previously, she has made remarks about her inability to care, stating that she is “Emotion-dry” as the war has “drained me of feeling” (pp 169). Do you read the monotonous “queerness” of each situation as a lack of sentiment, or as symbolism for something larger? Figurative language, such as repetition, is usually used when representing a greater theme. As seen just a page later, the use of “queer” is substituted for the word “happy.” What do you find is the reason behind this? Is there an actual shift in emotions, or do you believe the word to be inauthentic? Does this change your previous answer in any way?
After reading the final paragraph, what feelings are you left with? Does the story seem resolved? Is it what you expected or hoped for? In my class, many felt the ending of All Quiet on the Western Front brought about a sense of closure and relief. Does that remain true for Not So Quiet…? The last few sentences are very similar between the two, but the interpretation of the endings rely heavily on the content of each novel. In All Quiet, Paul saw gruesome, awful sights and suffered many traumas. Nellie has also suffered many traumas, but her experiences differ because of her role within the war. Much of this is due to gender and class because of the period restrictions. Nellie is not on the front lines, but she is still constantly in danger. In both books, everyone has died by the end. Nellie’s familial connections, friendships, and relationships differ along the way from Paul’s. Do the characters that you have read in Not So Quiet… affect your feelings about the ending? Does the statement, “her face held an expression of resignation, as though she had ceased to hope that the end might come,” read as Nellie finding peace to you (pp 239)? Is her death a punishment or a gift?
10 thoughts on “Maddie’s Reading Questions for February 3rd:”
1) I personally see Nellie and Robin’s night together as an attempt of selfish escape disguised as selflessness. From Neil’s perspective, she is caught in the middle of two tragedies: Tosh and The Bug’s horrific deaths versus the dreadful, shameful life that awaits her at home—and then enters this charming, handsome, youthful man with “laughing eyes” who seems to be the only one to respect her wishes of not bringing up the war in a rare moment of calm. Its clear through her repetition of “poor Robin, poor baby, etc.” that she’s well aware that he’ll very likely not make it out of the war alive, and she pities him as much as she did the wounded soldiers she’s driven countless times. Considering the hell and shame that awaits her in her very own home, a constant nagging pressure of toxic selflessness for a war most commonfolk are only seeing the supposed positives of from the sidelines, this one moment inbetween the chaos is the one true moment Nell can truly indulge in her own selfish desires without shame, guilt, or society’s disdainful eye glaring down at her for her treacherous leisure (“…yes, daringly drop a kiss on top of my cropped head in full view of the shocked old lady with the lorgnettes…laugh, laugh, laugh, go on laughing…’). In this scenario, I have to remind myself that “selfish” is a harsh and stigmatizing word, nobody likes to be called selfish, but in such a society where “doing your bit” is constantly preached and you are publicly and verbally (and in the case of Nell, financially) shamed by even your supposed loved ones (how easy it is to fall into such cultlike tactics when nationalism is involved), I can hardly blame Nell for indulging in more carnal desires. As for Robin, we know the guy just as much as Nell does—hardly. He’s nice, he’s charming, he’s young, he has laughing blue eyes, and he’s going off to the trenches soon. Perhaps Nell views having sex with him as another extension of the selflessness she’s supposed to give towards the brave, fighting soldiers—she seems only to really engage with him for the thrill of it rather than for pleasure for her sake, she reads as incredibly detached throughout the entire night, and in the end, she can’t help but pity him as a child because he is nonetheless a soldier and he will die nonetheless, so she must do her job: comfort him, and if comforting him means giving him one last true night of passion and lying to his face the morning after, filling him with as much false hope as a rushed ambulance drive to an uneventful, early grave, so be it.
2) I find Nell’s repetition of the word “queer” throughout her and Roy’s date to be a sign of her attempting to ground herself in this new, strange reality (similar to her repetition of the phrase “I am happy!” and its variants except…slightly less of a mantra, I suppose?). I do genuinely believe that Nell IS happy when she’s with Roy, he is the only one who understands her after all—despite their differences, they’re both victims spat out by the war and are effectively living playthings in their mothers’ games (there truly is no escape from being rendered mere pawns in the war games, “Poor Roy!”)—but this love is a doomed, fleeting happiness, more akin to the relief Nell feels when she wakes up in her warm bed. Nell, or rather the person Nell used to be, is dying a quiet, painful death, if she’s not already long dead by the time she’s back in England—she can’t help but be somewhat unsentimental in her attachments; Roy and her are a doomed romance no matter what, in her mind, and it is strange to live in the moment with a “grown-up Roy I hardly know” who genuinely cares for Nell’s needs and desires and to truly be happy in the moment—for neither of them have truly escaped the war, they’re aware of this. Everything is different, unfamiliar, and yet, in these rare moments, nothing has changed, not really.
3) The final paragraph haunts me. I initially didn’t read the novel as Nellie dying in the physical sense, but rather her “soul”, as specified, dying and leaving her effectively dead inside (and correct me if I’m wrong, but I still do; the wording may be strikingly similar, but I find it hard to believe that Nell actually died that day in the trench)—her body is physically untouched, her eyes are still open and glossy if emotionless, her heart is still beating and blood is still flowing through her veins. Poor Smithy, the sole survivor of countless war tragedies lives on, but Helen Z. Smith, the person, is dead. This whole novel has been a stumbling slowburn to the death of Helen Z. Smith’s character—notice that at the beginning of Chapter 11, she has now accepted her role of a “machine”, has lost everything, and is as unattached as ever—all of this is for nothing, after all. And the death of one’s soul is a fate worse than actual, physical death in my eyes: because as painful as death can be, when it ends, it’s over. There’s peace, there’s sleep, there’s the quiet. But when you’re still alive, haunted by trauma, it’s a curse. Those memories will follow you, no matter how much you try to wash it off and bury it. And in Smith’s situation, what does she have to go back to? A hopeless fight full of senseless destruction and even more senseless deaths? A family who cares more about how honorable her death will be rather than her merits as a person, as a daughter? A fiancé who now carries a physical reminder of everything they both endured? Nightmares? Self-hatred? Shellshock? Shame? Pity? Survivor’s guilt? This was all for nothing. Paul at least died with some glimmer of freedom—he had time to grieve for his fallen comrades and a family that loved and supported him back home, no matter how oblivious they were to how hellish war truly is. Nell has…nothing, really, truly, honestly nothing. Her sister is dead, her friends are all dead, her lover is damaged, and her parents are more in love with the idea of her than she herself. Perhaps death isn’t such a bad thing then, it’s at least better than the cruel, unfunny joke that is the hell constantly awaiting her at every turn. Poor Nellie.
1) I personally see Nellie and Robin’s night together as an attempt of selfish escape disguised as selflessness. From Neil’s perspective, she is caught in the middle of two tragedies: Tosh and The Bug’s horrific deaths versus the dreadful, shameful life that awaits her at home—and then enters this charming, handsome, youthful man with “laughing eyes” who seems to be the only one to respect her wishes of not bringing up the war in a rare moment of calm. Its clear through her repetition of “poor Robin, poor baby, etc.” that she’s well aware that he’ll very likely not make it out of the war alive, and she pities him as much as she did the wounded soldiers she’s driven countless times. Considering the hell and shame that awaits her in her very own home, a constant nagging pressure of toxic selflessness for a war most commonfolk are only seeing the supposed positives of from the sidelines, this one moment inbetween the chaos is the one true moment Nell can truly indulge in her own selfish desires without shame, guilt, or society’s disdainful eye glaring down at her for her treacherous leisure (“…yes, daringly drop a kiss on top of my cropped head in full view of the shocked old lady with the lorgnettes…laugh, laugh, laugh, go on laughing…’). In this scenario, I have to remind myself that “selfish” is a harsh and stigmatizing word, nobody likes to be called selfish, but in such a society where “doing your bit” is constantly preached and you are publicly and verbally (and in the case of Nell, financially) shamed by even your supposed loved ones (how easy it is to fall into such cultlike tactics when nationalism is involved), I can hardly blame Nell for indulging in more carnal desires. As for Robin, we know the guy just as much as Nell does—hardly. He’s nice, he’s charming, he’s young, he has laughing blue eyes, and he’s going off to the trenches soon. Perhaps Nell views having sex with him as another extension of the selflessness she’s supposed to give towards the brave, fighting soldiers—she seems only to really engage with him for the thrill of it rather than for pleasure for her sake, she reads as incredibly detached throughout the entire night, and in the end, she can’t help but pity him as a child because he is nonetheless a soldier and he will die nonetheless, so she must do her job: comfort him, and if comforting him means giving him one last true night of passion and lying to his face the morning after, filling him with as much false hope as a rushed ambulance drive to an uneventful, early grave, so be it.
2) I find Nell’s repetition of the word “queer” throughout her and Roy’s date to be a sign of her attempting to ground herself in this new, strange reality (similar to her repetition of the phrase “I am happy!” and its variants except…slightly less of a mantra, I suppose?). I do genuinely believe that Nell IS happy when she’s with Roy, he is the only one who understands her after all—despite their differences, they’re both victims spat out by the war and are effectively living playthings in their mothers’ games (there truly is no escape from being rendered mere pawns in the war games, “Poor Roy!”)—but this love is a doomed, fleeting happiness, more akin to the relief Nell feels when she wakes up in her warm bed. Nell, or rather the person Nell used to be, is dying a quiet, painful death, if she’s not already long dead by the time she’s back in England—she can’t help but be somewhat unsentimental in her attachments; Roy and her are a doomed romance no matter what, in her mind, and it is strange to live in the moment with a “grown-up Roy I hardly know” who genuinely cares for Nell’s needs and desires and to truly be happy in the moment—for neither of them have truly escaped the war, they’re aware of this. Everything is different, unfamiliar, and yet, in these rare moments, nothing has changed, not really.
3) The final paragraph haunts me. I initially didn’t read the novel as Nellie dying in the physical sense, but rather her “soul”, as specified, dying and leaving her effectively dead inside (and correct me if I’m wrong, but I still do; the wording may be strikingly similar, but I find it hard to believe that Nell actually died that day in the trench)—her body is physically untouched, her eyes are still open and glossy if emotionless, her heart is still beating and blood is still flowing through her veins. Poor Smithy, the sole survivor of countless war tragedies lives on, but Helen Z. Smith, the person, is dead. This whole novel has been a stumbling slowburn to the death of Helen Z. Smith’s character—notice that at the beginning of Chapter 11, she has now accepted her role of a “machine”, has lost everything, and is as unattached as ever—all of this is for nothing, after all. And the death of one’s soul is a fate worse than actual, physical death in my eyes: because as painful as death can be, when it ends, it’s over. There’s peace, there’s sleep, there’s the quiet. But when you’re still alive, haunted by trauma, it’s a curse. Those memories will follow you, no matter how much you try to wash it off and bury it. And in Smith’s situation, what does she have to go back to? A hopeless fight full of senseless destruction and even more senseless deaths? A family who cares more about how honorable her death will be rather than her merits as a person, as a daughter? A fiancé who now carries a physical reminder of everything they both endured? Nightmares? Self-hatred? Shellshock? Shame? Pity? Survivor’s guilt? This was all for nothing. Paul at least died with some glimmer of freedom—he had time to grieve for his fallen comrades and a family that loved and supported him back home, no matter how oblivious they were to how hellish war truly is. Nell has…nothing, really, truly, honestly nothing. Her sister is dead, her friends are all dead, her lover is damaged, and her parents are more in love with the idea of her than she herself. Perhaps death isn’t such a bad thing then, it’s at least better than the cruel, unfunny joke that is the hell constantly awaiting her at every turn. Poor Nellie.