Bruce Bechdel, lost in his books?

    One chord in Fun Home I find especially heartbreaking, running throughout Alison Bechdel’s relationship with her father, is the detachment that leaves the man more a fictional character to his daughter than the flesh and blood presence he was. By fictional character, I mean that his emotional distance and sudden departure color Alison’s memories of him and that detachment manifests itself in the way Alison recalls him and in the order she presents the narrative. As she says on page 67, “My parents are most real to me in fictional terms.”
    I find it telling that she describes her parents in terms of ill-fated fictional characters of which they are reminiscent. She stresses the literary atmosphere of her childhood, painting her father as a sort of Victorian man of letters living a century and a half too late, but the characters she chooses to relate her parents to are examples of thwarted passions and a sort of settling for the trivialities of daily life. There are the F. Scott Fitzgerald-esque letters her father writes while he’s courting her mother — a tragic precedence of a yearning for a more vivid life, since Fitzgerald burned out so quickly. Her mother is the lead in Henry James’ Portrait of a Lady, a character yearning for the excitement of an artistic life in Europe, yet winds up trapped in stagnant domesticity. Yet not everything is explained in a literary metaphor: the violent arguments between the elder Bechdels isn’t related to any particular work, but instead shown off panel through speech bubbles while the children listen, frightened. The literary allusions and glimpses of a family cracking apart illustrates Alison’s grim prognosis after her father’s funeral: “Dad’s death was not a new catastrophe but an old one that had been unfolding very slowly for a long time.”
    In light of this long spiral downwards, I don’t believe Alison’s coming out is what caused her father to throw himself in front of the truck with the incongruous smiling Sunbeam girl on the side (an example of her often wry eye for grimly humorous detail). Rather, I’m inclined to believe that if it’s any one cause, it’s the divorce: that the shock of having his life in stasis, surrounded by his Victorian house and Victorian airs, jarred by his wife finally having had enough, is what causes everything to fall apart for him. If Helen Bechdel had stayed, and Bruce managed to keep his same-sex affairs secret, I think the situation would have stayed tense yet stable. In that light, I think he viewed his daughter’s lesbianism as either a phase or a wry coincidence to his own sexuality; while her mother is shocked and disapproving, Bruce Bechdel “seemed strangely pleased” and told her “Everyone should experiment. It’s healthy” (page 77) — an ironic reaction given that his own experiment is what is about to drive his wife out the door.
    This is quickly becoming perhaps my favorite work of this semester, and a key factor in my liking of the book, despite the grim events, is the complex characterization. I’m still not sure whether to feel much sympathy for Bruce. Is he a tragic figure, stuck in a stifling marriage and unrewarding, limited life in a place he hoped to escape; or is he a more reckless character, taking out his frustrations on his family physically and indulging his passions behind his wife’s back? How sympathetic is the prodigal father?

    Also, the green coloring throughout the book brought to mind an unsettling association. With my grandfather in the hospital for heart surgery, the past week I have seen an army of green scrubs, a more vivid version of the same pale green mix floating uneasily with a calming blue that colors the novel. Indeed, I am writing this in a hospital waiting room, breathing in the faint odors of disinfectant and distant disease, the same odors that Bruce Bechdel as an embalmer would be so familiar with. That surgical association is reinforced by the elder Bechdel’s funeral home management, especially the grisly, coolly anatomical panels where Alison gives him scissors while he dissects a man. In my mind, that pale green brings to mind the surgical gowns and their association of illness and examination; so by extension the surgical connotations of the coloring emphasizes that something is deeply at fault in this family, and that it will take deep examination and painful treatment in order to find, and hopefully remedy, what has ailed this family, coloring our narrator’s background.

3 thoughts on “Bruce Bechdel, lost in his books?

  1. While not warranting its own post, I found a page at Find a Grave,, about Bruce Bechdel written by a daughter in law. The summary is rather nondescript, but the pictures are interesting, and especially the oblique reference to “the book” at the very end of the obituary: anyone seeking to mention it, “please refrain from commenting here.” I’d imagine Fun Home ruffled more than a few feathers back home, and I wonder if the person who put this together is the wife of the son who we never saw mentioned in Fun Home, the web page reflecting a family split continuing the tragic discord in the Bechdel family.

  2. Although the class is all but over, I found myself back on the blog. Partially because I believe I was a post and a response behind, but also because I wanted to look back over everything we’ve done. There are so many things I’d like to respond to and comment on in regards to this post.
    First off, I think that Find a Grave page you found is very interesting. I agree that it’s very interesting to think which person put it together from the family. It very well could be the wife of the son we seldom hear about. I briefly mentioned in this in class, but I think that the publication of this graphic novel definitely didn’t go over very well back home. At the end of the novel in the acknowledgments she writes that she would like to thank her family for “not trying to stop me from writing this book”. I thought it was an interesting way to word that. She doesn’t say that they approved of it or gave their blessings, just that they didn’t stop her.
    In response to your actual post, I completely agree with you about her father. I think that it is sad that there is such detachment and emotional distance between them. Describing him as a fictional character is completely right on. She is constantly bringing these authors and characters into the story, simply because it’s the only way she can explain who he is. She never truly knows her father growing up. After she has come out and talks to her father about homosexuality (particularly the car conversation stands out in my mind), there seems to be a slightly different relationship growing. There is actually a moment where we can see them both playing the piano and SMILING, and I think that this is why it is such a moment that sticks out in my mind. You never see the two of them interacting like that before. I saw this as the moment that he started to become a real person in her mind, and not this fictional character she grew up with.

Leave a Reply

Please log in using one of these methods to post your comment: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s