The Fragility of the American Dream and the “Languages of Apocalypse”

In his series of graphic novels collectively titled The Sandman, Neil Gaiman writes, “I have heard the languages of apocalypse, and now I shall embrace the silence.” Cormac McCarthy’s The Road is a post-apocalyptic novel, no questions asked. But what about Tim O’Brien’s The Things They Carried? Of course, the war in Vietnam has come and gone, and the world has generally recovered—or, at least, America would like to think—but what is war if not an apocalypse? The Book of Revelation provides a strict definition: the complete and final destruction of the world. Words have many meanings, however, and “an event involving destruction or damage on an awesome or catastrophic scale” is an almost understated description of the Vietnam War. The events in The Road and The Things They Carried are certainly not on the same scale, globally or in terms of long-term consequences, but their impacts on the people involved are comparable. It is perhaps their differences, though, that are more telling. Juxtaposing two novels with such contrasting ideas, remarkably, serves not to undermine the message of one, but enhance the messages of both. McCarthy and O’Brien explore opposing messages about community, death, and storytelling, but acknowledging both sides allows readers a more comprehensive glance into the true fragility of the American Dream.

Aside from the literal apocalypses that the characters of The Road and The Things They Carried face, they both explore moral apocalypses, of a sort. In post-apocalyptic America and the nightmares of Vietnam, morality becomes secondary to survival, understandably. O’Brien and his unit kill and injure, wreak havoc on the world around them in response to their pain. Similarly, the man and his son rely on stolen goods, end the lives of others in order to escape, and leave the less fortunate behind them on the road. This is not to say that their choices are wrong, but that the actions we consider “good” today no longer carry the importance that they do in a whole, unbroken society. In direct response to this, the people of both novels react entirely differently from each other. For example, when discussing how the war affected him, Tim O’Brien states that “It makes things vivid. When you’re afraid, really afraid, you see things you never saw before, you pay attention to the world. You make close friends. You become part of a tribe and you share the same blood—you give together, you take it together” (O’Brien 183). In the face of the horrific violence throughout Vietnam, it would make sense for the soldiers to experience depression symptoms, to curl into themselves in order to prevent forming relationships likely to lose one party. Throughout The Things They Carried, however, O’Brien explores the idea that he occasionally misses the war and his relationships with the other soldiers. The community he created was a way to survive their living hell.

In contrast, the father-son relationship, and only the father-son relationship, is the main idea dissected in The Road. In fact, it is the only relationship ever truly shown, emphasizing the extreme lack of positive community influence in the post-apocalypse. The social society that exists is completely demolished, and the man and boy trust no one, let no one into their circle. Nor does Ely, a man they meet on the road:

I couldnt trust you with it. To do something with it. I dont want anybody talking about me. To say where I was or what I said when I was there. I mean, you could talk about me maybe. But nobody could say that it was me. I could be anybody. I think in times like these the less said the better (McCarthy 171).

To be a part of a community is to be known, and the characters in The Road are actively avoiding this fact, as illustrated by the fact that no one’s true name is ever spoken. They have no identities and no defining characteristics. This makes Ely’s words incredibly powerful: he perfectly encompasses the ideas surrounding community throughout the novel. In the face of this moral collapse, it has been deemed a weakness to travel with others, to become attached and give up pieces of yourself that could be used against you. In other words, the risks of betrayal or grief have been recognized as greater than the rewards of moral support, directly opposing The Things They Carried.

While these two ideas about community do not support each other, paying attention to both of them simultaneously, putting them side by side, allows readers to gain a fuller grasp of both concepts. In addition to this, they both act as criticisms of the so-called “American Dream” in their own ways, providing two perspectives on the same issue. The American Dream is built upon a foundation of progress, success, and social mobility—the ability of a person to move around in the social hierarchy. The fact of the matter is, though, the American Dream is fragile, and The Things They Carried and The Road call that out. Take, for example, the return of the soldiers from Vietnam. Whether you disagree with the war or not, drafted individuals were stripped of choice, and did not deserve the shame and criticism they were given for actions they were forced to take. The American Dream is meant to be about working for your own fate and controlling where you end up in society. What part of that fits with the government forcing you into a role that makes those around you wince when they see you? The community O’Brien and his friends create, the relationships that last long past the war, is a direct response to America backtracking on their promise. The country meant to build them up broke them down, so they found solace among the scorned.

Similarly, the events of the road are a representation of how quickly America’s promises die in the face of hardship—the country was not strong enough to keep their supposedly unparalleled, battle-hardened society alive. Our current society is already facing the effects of climate change, and people are losing their lives due to government in-action. What must the world have been like shortly before the collapse? People have been protesting, speaking out, and still there are those in the government that refuse to acknowledge the threat America, and the world, faces. They could take greater action, share their information with the public, but still they choose to focus on issues other than the rapidly decaying planet. America is meant to be a place of dreams, where anyone can go to build themselves up again. How is that upheld if that same country watched—is watching— their “place of dreams” cave-in from the center of the flames? In the face of tragedy, the American Dream’s community-based foundation crumbled into dust.

Death is an ever-present force looming over both novels, and that is all too obvious. Nevertheless, there is an undeniable difference in how the respective characters cope with the loss of those around them. For Tim O’Brien, this is an active effort to keep the memory of the dead alive—specifically through storytelling: “We kept the dead alive with stories. . . . Often they were exaggerated, or blatant lies, but it was a way of bringing body and soul back together, or a way of making new bodies for the souls to inhabit” (O’Brien 226). Whether the stories of the dead are strictly true or not ultimately does not matter; it is the aim itself that sends the true message. The act of storytelling allows the soldiers to remember their fallen friends in their own ways, on their own terms, not through memories of the experiences necessitated by the government. One of the greatest criticisms of the American Dream is that assimilation to American cultures and ideas is almost necessary to succeed in the country. While it is built on the concept that anyone can work towards greatness, that really only holds true for White, straight, cisgender men. In that way, a rejection of the American Dream is incredibly similar to Tim O’Brien’s storytelling—sometimes, success is subjective, and may not match what others uphold.

The Road tackles death in a different way. Rather than actively working to keep the dead “alive,” the characters have a recognition that those they love are intrinsic pieces of themselves, and do not leave easily. This is especially prevalent in the boy, as shown by the death of his father in the end of the novel: “You have my whole heart. You always did. You’re the best guy. You always were. If I’m not here you can still talk to me and I’ll talk to you. You’ll see” (McCarthy 279). The man may die shortly after this conversation, but he lives on in the boy, who continues to talk to him, rather than talk to God. As opposed to the more communal storytelling aspect of The Things They Carried, McCarthy shows death as something personal, the spirit of the deceased a positive force inside those left behind. Still, though, the way that the boy copes with death is reminiscent of a rejection of the American Dream. The Dream would have us believe that there is nothing more patriotic than sacrificing for the country; in contrast, the father and son know that those who love us never truly leave us—the boy knows that the man lives on not for the hope of a new country, a new start for everyone, but for him. Death, like language, life, and culture, are deeply personal. America is almost unfailingly patriotic, but that should not come in the way of everything that makes us unique—you do not have to die, or live, in service to your country for your life to be worth it.

“America is almost unfailingly patriotic, but that should not come in the way of everything that makes us unique—you do not have to die, or live, in service to your country for your life to be worth it.”

Storytelling is an incredibly important way in which O’Brien keeps his friends alive, but it is also a crucial piece of the story as a whole. Without the exploration of metafiction and what a story actually is, the novel would have nowhere near the same level of impact. Specifically, the discussion over story-truth and happening-truth holds a lot of weight: “Twenty years ago I watched a man die on a trail near the village of My Khe. I did not kill him. But I was present, you see, and my presence was guilt enough. . . . I want you to know why story-truth is truer sometimes than happening-truth” (O’Brien 171). An understanding of the idea of story-truth is crucial to an understanding of The Things They Carried as a whole. Not every event is the literal truth, but the description of the event matches the pain and guilt the characters carry in their minds. The American Dream survives on lies; just as O’Brien presents two different views of the same event, so do the words and actions of those in power. Politicians dress their bigotry up with pretty sentences, but it does not take much to reveal their true motivations.

In a world where everything has fallen apart, is it worth it to tell of better times? According to the boy in The Road, no. As the boy grows more and more aware, he begins to make some startling observations to his father, paired with unnerving questions. Sending conflicting messages in terms of relation to The Things They Carried, the man and boy have a conversation about what a story is meant to be: “Yeah, but stories are meant to be happy. They dont have to be. You always tell happy stories. You dont have any happy ones? They’re more like real life. But my stories are not. Your stories are not. No. The man watched him. Real life is pretty bad? What do you think?” (McCarthy 268). Tim O’Brien might say that the emotions a story gives you are more important, even if they do not match real life. Clearly, McCarthy would disagree. Sometimes, there is such a thing as too much hope—it creates an expectation of a reality that might never exist. The boy’s contribution to this discussion illustrates the point that it is often better to have all the facts upfront rather than sugarcoat or conceal an unideal situation—which the American Dream is wont to do. It thrives on luring people to a country that is supposedly a perfect, ideal place to live. What happens when those same people arrive to racism, sexism, and bigotry? What happens when the government says one thing in public, and contradicts it in private?

Cormac McCarthy and Tim O’Brien have created incredibly vivid and violent depictions of apocalypses, whether real or imagined. And they certainly have a number of differences between them. Ultimately, though, it is the similarities that are more important. There is more than one way to arrive at the same conclusion, and O’Brien and McCarthy have done just that. Despite their differences of opinion on community, death, and the importance of storytelling, both of their novels serve a larger purpose; one that goes beyond just their surface-level differences. The American Dream is fragile—what better word to describe an idea that snaps under true pressure? It is meant to create hope and safety, a better world, but it did just the opposite, as the characters in The Things They Carried and The Road have already learned. Now, our current society is coming to learn the same.