Friday, May 13, 2016

Lee After Libra

In our final discussions of Libra, and specifically its portrayal of Lee Harvey Oswald, I'm struck by how much our collective perspective has evolved over the course of the novel.  I know some other readers probably had more background knowledge on the JFK assassination and Oswald than I, which perhaps made it easier for me to accept DeLillo's narrative as something at least reasonably close to the truth.  21st century America especially really isn't interested in the details of Lee Harvey Oswald's existence; the crazed, lone gunmen is readily accepted as an explanation for various other high-profile assassinations.  Though Lee would no doubt have found solace in the fact that every detail of his life was so extensively studied to piece together his motivations, his fate is undeniably a tragic one.  This is not to say that Lee was a kind or especially sympathetic character, but DeLillo's exploration and interpretation of his psyche is so convincing and relatable in basic and undeniably human ways that the reader (or at least I) can't help but feel for him a little in the end.  It's difficult to remove myself from the context of our class discussions and realize that we're talking about how funnily awkward and "classic Lee" an assassin of one of the most beloved American presidents is. Perhaps it is the will of the U.S. government that enemies of the state be so dehumanized and reduced to a few details.  Lee's lifelong desire for an identity and greatness is not unlike the motivation that drives many heroes in other novels.  The article my group and I presented today is also relevant to this, in that it portrays Lee as a result and manifestation of his society's violent tendencies.  I certainly felt that Lee was molded and corrupted as the novel progressed, as his ideals receded to the background and his desire to make an impact through violence increased.  It is uncomfortable to come to terms with the fact that even the most infamous criminals are products of their environment, but DeLillo forces the reader to acknowledge that in postmodern history there can never be a black and white narrative.