A main element to both the advancement of the plot and the psychological complexity of the characters in Joyce Carol Oates’ Where Are You Going, Where Have You Been? is the management of space. 

In his introduction to the theory of narrative, Mieke Ball calls the physical space where a character is situated a ‘frame’ (134). This concept is of the utmost importance in Where Are You Going, because the different frames in the short story are fraught with meaning and often symbolise very specific states of mind.

Before starting my analysis, it is important to elucidate on an ostensibly simple distinction. We can divide spatial frames into two different categories; these, I must add, imply an inherent dichotomy: inside and outside. It is their contradictory character that gives them its meaning. Traditionally, an inner or intimate frame is a symbol of security and protection, more so if we are talking about someone’s home. An exterior frame, naturally, carries the opposite connotations. This dichotomy however, becomes much more complicated when we apply it to Oates’ short story. 

Let us think about ‘the outside’ as every space that is not Connie’s family home, irrespective of whether we are talking about the restaurant, Eddie’s car, the cinema or other traditionally interior spaces. If we agree to that distinction, then it becomes evident that the symbolic dyads outside-danger / inside-protection are reversed in this narrative.

We can see such a process happen from the very beginning of the short story. When Connie and her friend arrive in the restaurant wherein they meet Eddie, the narrator says that they approach the premises ‘expectant, as if they were entering a sacred building […] to give them what haven and blessing they yearned for’ (1). The restaurant is given a veneer of religious connotations and actually described as a ‘haven’ a safe place from the world’s dangers. This religious protection is something that Connie is unable to find with her family, and this situation is exacerbated when they leave the frame of their home. On the next page, the narrator tells us that ‘none of them [Connie’s family] bothered with church’ (2). Connie is therefore forced to overcompensate for the lack of religious instruction in her life, and in a clear example of what we call a ‘transference’ in psychology, she seeks the state of mind that the restaurant gives her, after all, ‘the music was always in the background, like music at a church service; it was something to depend upon’ (2).  

This inversion of symbolical associations to space is not natural, and this is something that the narrator himself is able to convey by dint of subtle details. To start with, the restaurant which Connie and her friends patronise is a place ‘where the older kids hung out’ (2), and therefore inherently dangerous to 15 year olds. In frequenting it, Connie is breaking social mores that dictate which kind of clientele can go where. Two further details make their presence there unwelcome: in the first place, the fact that to reach the restaurant they have to go through a ‘maze of parked cars’ (6), and in the second place, the fact that the restaurant itself is ‘fly-infested’ (2). These clues lead the reader to conclude that Connie’s safe ‘haven’ is not as safe as she would think it is: it is a frame infested by flies, patronised by an older clientele than she, and in the middle of a labyrinth. 

This complicates the symbolic relationship between the inside and the outside and protection and danger. At the beginning of the narrative, it seemed as though the connotations of the two different frames would be reversed, nevertheless, that only happens to a limited degree. Maybe the restaurant is a religious haven for Connie, but let us remember that it is there that she meets Arnold Fiend. His role is also important in terms of the frames in the narrative. It is none other than Arnold who introduces the danger present in the outside into Connie’s privacy when he shows up at her house. It is telling that, when Arnold drives to Connie’s house, the latter ‘dawdles in the doorway’ (3), as though tittering on the very boundary between the public and the private. 

 Even if Connie does pick up the receiver, Arnold does not step into the house. This might be due to the fact that he represents the outside, and therefore, he cannot trespass on Connie’s inner territory. In Arnolds own words, ‘I ain’t made plans for coming in that house where I don’t belong (7). Nevertheless, this presents an obvious problem: if Connie’s house can afford her a certain degree of physical protection, why is it not extended to the psychological sphere?

I propose a linguistically distinction to account for such an aporia. In her short story, Oates uses two words to refer to Connie’s family household; these are, ‘house’ and ‘home’. The difference between the two is of the utmost important, as they are far from being synonyms. The word ‘house’ refers mainly to the physical place, while ‘home’ implies its being lived in by a family. The latter naturally conveys an increased degree of protection both psychological and physical. Both terms are used in Where Are You Going, but not indistinctly, and not an equal number of times. ‘House’ is used thirteen times, meanwhile ‘home’ only eleven. This would seem to imply that the place whereby Connie seeks to fend off Friend is merely a house, viz., a non-descript construction with a least four walls and nothing else, an ‘asbestos ranch house that was now three years old [and] looked small’ (2). Even if we dismiss the fact that ‘house’ is used two times more than ‘home’ as a mere coincidence, we can see the inner frame lose its powers of protection in other ways.

Connie’s house is deconstructed when it loses that symbolical veneer of family protection. It is because Connie is home alone that Arnold is able to manipulate her in the first place. He tells her that ‘anybody can break through a screen door and glass and wood or iron or anything else if he needs to, anybody at all, and specially Arnold Friend’ (7). I must note that Arnold only lists the material components that make up a home and not the symbolical elements that are thereto attached. While he might go through the screen door easily, he will obviously find it a little harder to go through the paternal, maternal, and filial protection that Connie can rely on in normal situations. This makes Connie’s mother’s last comment to her daughter, ‘Stay at home then’ (2) rather ironic, for the moment she stepped out the threshold, the frame stopped being a home, to become a house.

It is at this point of the story that the dichotomy of inside and outside and the symbolic connotations thereto pertaining is turned on its head. After Arnold’s psychological siege on Connie, the frame that used to protect her becomes ‘nothing but a cardboard box, that [he] can knock down any time’ (9). Upon losing the ability to protect her, the house becomes strange to Connie, and so, ‘the kitchen looked like a place she had never seen before’ (7).

However, the house not only loses its status as a ‘haven’ when it fails to keep Connie safe, but it also actively harms her. Instead of helping her fend off Friend, the house acts against Connie: ‘she turned and bumped against a chair or something and hurt her leg’ (8). Arnold needs not harm Connie physically because the very same house she inhabits takes up that role. Finally, even though Connie is able to lift up the receiver, she finds it impossible to phone the police because ‘something roared in her ear’ (9).

In conclusion, we can see how the concept of space is of the utmost importance for a deeper understanding and interpretation of this short story in terms of the psychology of Connie. This being said, the implications of frames in the story are too complex to be analysed in a paper this size. Because of this, I decided to focus only on the use of space in its more conventional or literal sense. Nevertheless, as Jörg Schönert notes, ‘when speaking of space in narratology, a distinction should be made between literal and metaphorical uses of the concept (324). Metaphorical space in this short story undergoes a completely different approach and, because of that, it lies outside of the scope of this paper. However, I must mention briefly that one of the main ways in which metaphorical space is used in Where Are You Going is as an apparatus for dehumanisation. Arnold does not see Connie as a human being, but a place he wants to enter into: ‘And I’ll come inside you where it’s all secret’ (6).

Ian Iracheta is a student of English at UNAM in Mexico City where he specialises in Shakespeare Studies. He writes short and long fiction and critical essays on literature.

References:
Ball, Mieke. Narratology: Introduction to the Theory of Narrative. Toronto: University of Toronto Press. Print.

Handbook of Narratology. Gen ed. Schönert, Jörg. London: Walter de Gruyter. 2009. Print.

Oates, Joyce Carol. Where Are You Going, Where Have You Been? 1966. Web. https://www.d.umn.edu/~csigler/PDF%20files/oates_going.pdf

El espacio diegético en Where Are You Going, Where Have You Been?
por Joyce Carol Oates

    Un elemento esencial para el desdoblamiento de la trama y la complejidad psicológica de los eventos en Where Are You Going, Where Have You Been? por Joyce Carol Oates es el concepto del espacio. En su teoría de la narratología, Mieke Ball llama al lugar en donde un personaje se encuentra situado el frame o marco (134). Este componente es especialmente importante en el cuento de Oates, ya que los marcos topográficos están cargados de significado, y se pueden incluso concebir como símbolos. 

    La primera distinción que es menester hacer es una ostensiblemente sencilla. podemos dividir los marcos espaciales en dos simples categorías que implican una dicotomía inherente: éstas son adentro y afuera, y es exactamente su carácter de oposición lo que les da su significación. Tradicionalmente se concibe a un espacio interior como símbolo de seguridad y protección, más aún si éste se trata de un hogar familiar. Sin embargo, esta dicotomía teorética se complica al momento de aplicarla al texto.

    Si concebimos al concepto de “afuera” como el espacio exterior al hogar de la familia, sin importar que éste sea el restaurante,  el coche de Eddie o del padre de Betty, o el cine u otros espacios interiores, es entonces evidente que las relaciones simbólicas exterior-peligro / hogar-seguridad se ven invertidas en el cuento. 

    Éste, sin embargo, es un proceso que podemos apreciar en retrospectiva desde el principio de la narración. Cuando Connie y su amiga se acercan al restaurante en el que encuentran a Eddie, el narrador dice que ellas se acercan al lugar “expectant as if they were entering a sacred building […] to give them what haven and blessing they yearned for” (1). El restaurante es entonces recubierto con una investidura religiosa que lo presenta como un lugar seguro, un “haven” donde nada les puede pasar a las niñas. De la misma manera, esta seguridad religiosa es algo que Connie no encuentra con su familia, y mucho menos en la casa vacía. El narrador nos dice que “none of them [la familia de Connie] bothered with church” (2). Connie entonces se ve forzada a compensar la falta de religiosidad en su vida y a buscar la seguridad mental que ésta otorga en el restaurante: “the music was always in the background, like music at a church service; it was something to depend upon” (1).

    Sin embargo, esta inversión de significación espacial no es natural y el narrador logra expresar este hecho por medio de pequeños detalles. Para empezar, el restaurante es un lugar en el que Connie y sus amigas violentan ciertas convenciones sociales. Es un establecimiento “where the older kids hung out” (2), y por lo tanto, podríamos deducir que es inherentemente peligroso para niñas de quince años. Agregado a este hecho se encuentran dos detalles menores: primero, el hecho de que para llegar al restaurante tienen que atravesar un “maze of parked cars” (6) y en segundo lugar, que el restaurante mismo está “fly-infested” (2). El lector entonces deduce que el “haven” de Connie no es tan seguro como a ella le parece: es un lugar infestado de moscas, frecuentado por jóvenes mayores y a la mitad de un laberinto.

    Podemos concluir entonces, que aunque la tabla de relaciones simbólicas exterior-peligro / hogar-seguridad es violentada en el cuento, ella no sufre una inversión completa, por lo menos en la primera parte de la fábula, ya que cabe mencionar que Arnold Friend es un personaje que Connie conoce por primera vez en su “haven.” Empero, es este mismo personaje el que introduce el peligro del exterior a la esfera privada de Connie al presentarse en su casa. Cuando Arnold llega a la residencia, Connie “dwadle[s] in the doorway” (3), es decir, se encuentra justo en el punto de entrada, en el punto medio en el que convienen la esfera interior y la exterior. Aunque Connie toma el teléfono, Arnold nunca entra a la casa, a pesar de que la amenazó con hacerlo, tal vez porque lo que él representa, i.e., el exterior, no puede invadir el interior del hogar de Connie. En sus propias palabras “I ain’t made plans for coming in that house where I don’t belong”(7). Sin embargo esto presenta un problema: ¿si la casa le brinda a Connie cierta protección física de Arnold, por qué no también psicológica?

    En Where Are You Going, Where Have You Been? se usan predominantemente dos palabras cuando se tiene que hacer una referencia a la residencia donde vive la familia. Estas palabras son house y home. La distinción entre ambas es de suma importancia, ya que no son exactamente sinónimos. La palabra house simplemente indica el inmueble, mientras que un home es una casa habitada por una familia, lo que implica un grado mayor de seguridad psicológica. En el cuento se utilizan las dos versiones, sin embargo, no en números iguales. La palabra house es usada trece veces, mientras que home sólo once. Este hecho implica que el lugar en el que Connie se intenta refugiar del sitio psicológico de Arnold Friend es solamente un inmueble de cuatro paredes, solamente una “asbestos ranch house that was now three years old [and] looked small” (2). Incluso si no aceptamos la superioridad numérica de la casa sobre el hogar cómo índice de este proceso, éste también se ve realizado en otras maneras. 

    La casa es deconstruida al perder esa investidura simbólica que la reforzaba con la seguridad que provee una familia. Cabe mencionar que es exactamente el hecho de que Connie está sola en la casa lo que le permite a Arnold manipularla psicológicamente. Su atacante le confía que “anybody can break through a screen door and glass and wood or iron or anything else if he needs to, anybody at all, and specially Arnold Friend” (7). Sobre esta cita es importante mencionar que Arnold solamente enlista los aspectos materiales de la construcción y no los simbólicos. Él bien podrá atravesar el mosquitero, mas no la protección paternal, maternal y fraternal que Connie tendría si su familia se encontrara en la casa. Este hecho vuelve el último comentario que su madre le dirige a Connie, “stay at home then” (2), marcadamente irónico, ya que en el momento que su familia se fue a la barbacoa, el frame dejó de ser un home para convertirse en una house y por lo tanto perdió su sistema más fundamental de seguridad. 

    En ese mismo momento la dicotomía mencionada en la primera parte de este ensayo se encuentra por primera vez totalmente invertida. Después del asedio psicológico de Arnold, la casa que defendía a Connie “is nothing but a cardboard box that [he] can knock down any time” (9). Al perder su función primaria, la de la protección, la casa se vuelve igualmente extraña para Connie. “The kitchen looked like a place she had never seen before” (7). Sin embargo, la casa no sólo pierde sus cualidades de ser un “haven” al romper la promesa de mantener a Connie a salvo, sino que, en las escenas finales, es la misma casa la que lastima a la niña. De esa manera invierte totalmente su carga simbólica de protección. En vez de ayudarla a pelear en contra de la amenaza que es Arnold, la casa violenta a Connie: “She turned and bumped against a chair or something hurting her leg” (8). Arnold nunca lastima a Connie físicamente en el cuento, ya que es la misma casa la que toma ese rol. Finalmente, aunque Connie llega a sostener el teléfono en su mano se ve incapaz de hacer la llamada a la policía ya que “something roared in her ear” (9).

    En conclusión, podemos notar que el tratamiento que el espacio recibe en este cuento es de suma importancia para una interpretación más profunda de su contenido psicológico. Las implicaciones del espacio diegético en Where Are You Going, Where Have You Been? son por lo tanto naturalmente demasiado complejas para analizarse en su totalidad. Para limitar el tema, decidí concentrarme en el análisis del espacio en su sentido más “tradicional” o literal. Empero, como Jörg Schönert menciona, “when speaking of space in narratology, a distinction should be made between literal and metaphorical uses of the concept” (324). El espacio metafórico en el cuento recibe un tratamiento completamente diferente al literal, y por lo tanto se encuentra fuera de la jurisdicción de este ensayo. Sin embargo, cabe mencionar brevemente, que el espacio metafórico es usado como un aparato de deshumanización en el cuento. Arnold no ve a Connie como un ser humano, sino como un simple lugar al que quiere entrar: “And I’ll come inside you where it’s all secret” (6).

Bibliografía:
Ball, Mieke. Narratology: Introduction to the Theory of Narrative. Toronto: University of Toronto Press. Print.

Handbook of Narratology. Gen ed. Schönert, Jörg. London: Walter de Gruyter. 2009. Print.

Oates, Joyce Carol. Where Are You Going, Where Have You Been? 1966. Web. https://www.d.umn.edu/~csigler/PDF%20files/oates_going.pdf