Trauma Theory in Twenty-First Century Literature
- veritybrownpoetry
- Mar 18, 2022
- 6 min read
An essay by Verity Brown
Since we are living in what the media is calling “unprecedented times” (BBC, 2020), I believe it is important for people to understand how Trauma Theory is presented in prose and media. This is especially pertinent considering the level at which it is currently being consumed out of necessity of entertainment, as we make our way through this pandemic isolated from friends, family, and our normal routines.
With this growing demand for media, it is vital that these texts that we rely on for comfort also fulfil a mimetic role; that they are relatable to the mass trauma that we are all experiencing in our little bubbles, and yet also altogether. The desire for escape is not always a solution, and instead people can find relief where they see the trauma of others as they live through their own, and feel that they can relate to it in their own experiences. This is key to individual catharsis.
Originating with Sigmund Freud and his developments in the field of psychology, Trauma Theory stemmed from psychoanalytic studies in the 19th century, though at the time was coined as ‘hysteria’ (Mambrol, 2017) (Mambrol, 2018). It is defined as an event, or the experience of an event, that is so overwhelming to the victim that they cannot assimilate or understand it as it occurs until it reappears later in the form of behavioural re-enactments, nightmares, neuroses and affectations.
Historically, trauma was thought of solely as a physical affliction, but as the 1800s progressed, more medical practitioners began to deduce that trauma could also be mental. This was brought on by the onset of modernity – the new fast paced lifestyle brought on by the Industrial Revolution meant people were exposed to more experiences, and more information, faster than ever before.
Signs of mental trauma – shell-shock, and what we now know as Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD) – have been inherent throughout history, in reality as well as in every literary period from Brontë to DBC Pierre – Wuthering Heights to Vernon God Little, respectively. A second wave of trauma theory in text experienced a renaissance after the world bore witness to the Vietnam War. The increased availability of cameras, improved literacy, and globalisation of media meant increased accessibility for all to observe the trauma of the conflict. The famous “War is Hell” photograph by Horst Fass portrays the eyes of a young man under the helmet bearing the slogan, for all to see; and it shocked people across the globe. Herr reflected that “the problem was that you didn’t always know what you were seeing until later, years later…it just stayed stored there in your eyes.” (Herr, 1977)
This collective traumatic experience no longer solely affected the soldiers who returned with only their inaccessible memories – the ‘shell-shock’ of World Wars 1 and 2 seen in veterans, and expressed fictitiously through Tolkien in his novels The Lord of the Rings, to the victims of the Holocaust – an event so despicable to contemplate that many people who weren’t even affected actively deny its occurrence to this day.
Often the problem with this theory is the accurate portrayal of the Other; in problems with trauma, even in collective experiences, trauma is entirely unique in its relationship with its victims and survivors. Hence a key element in literature that addresses trauma, is the author of the text asking themselves: “How do I address my story to another who is there only to listen; and what kind of address would be required to make it curable?” (Caruth, 2020)
Although Freud initiated thinking around the subject, he ultimately abandoned the study in favour of other psychoanalytic fields. On Trauma Theory, he wrote Beyond the Pleasure Principle, specifying within that “Most of the ‘pain’ we experience is of a perceptual order, perception either of the urge of unsatisfied instincts or of something in the external world which may be painful in itself…and is recognised [as] ‘danger’.” (Freud, 1920) In literature, fictional texts that engage in Trauma Theory often do so as social experiments, with aims to engage readers in sharing in a hypothetical path of vicarious healing.
Arguably the most prominent academic in the field today, Cathy Caruth has spearheaded the importance of Trauma Theory in the 21st century, and how this historically pertinent century is so full-to-bursting with significant events, it is essential that Trauma is discussed and worked through to find true witness to events that cannot be recognised by those they have forced repression upon. “They become a symptom of a history that they cannot entirely possess.” (Caruth, Trauma: Explorations in Memory, 1995)
Khaled Hosseini is a particularly talented author in this regard, merging the reality of war, of rape, and abuse, in two of his novels: The Kite Runner and A Thousand Splendid Suns. Both portray realistic characters from varied backgrounds, yet all his characters witness the same historical event: the invasion of the Taliban into Afghanistan. Hosseini recognises the layers of victimhood in response, and the varied abilities of his characters to cope with this upheaval.
Writers usually use Trauma Theory in their media in the pursuit of pedagogy. The text is created with intention of educating the reader with a fictional recreation of traumatic events, which creates a mimetic framework which theorists look for in order to deem a text a useful tool when examining the human psyche in lieu of trauma. When the text is completely fantasized, it can be an experiment in the reaction of a character’s psyche after exposure to pain; or a recollection of the author’s own experiences, fashioned in such a way as to present them as more palatable to a reader.
This latter approach is evident in The Shawl (Ozick, 1980), particularly at the peak of the traumatic event; the loss of her baby to violence is almost disguised with the language used in Part 1 – “The Shawl”. Rosa describes Magda, her baby, as “swimming through the air”, that she “looked like a butterfly touching a silver vine”. The reality is that her baby has been hurled by a Nazi officer against an electric fence; but this approach in using overly floral language to describe the event as Rosa witnesses it gives the reader the impression that she is unable to truly process the trauma in that moment. Instead, she represses it as she “took Magda’s shawl and…stuffed it in” to her mouth – the simile here indicative of repression. For theorists, this is useful in sustaining realism in the witness’ paradox of observing history but being unable to retain it in the moment, a factor that Caruth in particular focusses on.
Similarly, in the television series Poldark (2015-2019), the events witnessed by Doctor Dwight Enys when he is confined in a French prisoner of war camp are demonstrated even to the viewer of the text: the guards roll dice and execute men for sport. The Doctor tries to keep his focus solely on healing the sick within the walls of the prison, but the guards shoot a man he has nursed back to health out of spite. The consequences are not wholly evident until he returns home after his rescue – his wife cannot understand why he has changed and he refuses to share his experiences with her. However, he connects with a fellow prisoner, and in sharing their bond and experience, both men are able to reach a tentative resolve in their response to the trauma.
This is arguably a harkening to the benefits that trauma theorists find in texts which promote therapy as a repose for the mind, and by re-engaging with trauma in a safe space, with partners who are able to enter into the same mindset. This allows those witnesses of the unassimilable to create an environment in which they can come to terms with the history to which they were a party.
Hence, both in fictional text and real-world trauma, the import of Trauma Theory being utilised promotes, in the view of theorists within the field, only the positive reclamation of our own, and our collective histories.
Sharing trauma was a way for those directly affected to reduce their neuroses, and perhaps believe that if they could induce the empathy of the horrors in the unaffected, history would be less likely to repeat itself. A bond is formed with those who have their own traumatic experience, and assurance can come from connecting and reaffirming in communities where similar ordeals have been felt.
Trauma Theory is hence utilised in texts to encourage connection by the reader with the character on the page—a character who could so easily be real. And, by sharing in that problematic experience, this connection whether fictitious or based in reality (neo-journalism, such as Dispatches by M. Herr) can invoke healing through awareness and communication. Writers most often draw from the world around them – the world that they know – and the most poignant experiences are those which entice humankind to connect with one another with empathy, dissection and healing.
Perhaps, however, the most important utilisation of trauma texts, is that readers bear witness on one another’s behalf, and in doing so put an end to the erasure of history. If a text can portray what is defined by its incomprehensibility in a form that creates relatability, it becomes a powerful tool against potential future atrocity.
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