Unfolding Decline in Hernan Díaz’s “In the Distance”
Unfolding Decline in Hernan Díaz’s In the Distance
. . . even though he did not know how old he was, it was clear to him that he had reached the age at which the human body has matured and starts its decline. Still, he had never stopped growing. Since he had not seen another human being in years, he had no sense of how tall he would feel next to someone else, but he did know he would be conspicuous—an added reason for staying out of sight. But these were only fleeting thoughts. He seldom considered his body or his circumstances—or anything else, for that matter. The business of being took up all his time. (Díaz 216)
Chapter twenty of Hernan Díaz’s unconventional western, In the Distance, ends with an easily overlooked passage that is the novel’s turning point. The lack of emotional form and content within the passage carries the weight of the entire plot; filled with context, structure, and repetition, the paragraph plays an essential role in unfolding the larger text by giving the reader a more intimate portrait of the protagonist and the beginning of the end of his journey in America. The passage is a detachment from the American Dream, a condemnation of property ownership and upward mobility, and a numbing portrayal of maturity and decline. To analyze this claim, it is crucial to examine the paragraph both holistically and in three distinct parts, as each piece describes separate fundamental characteristics of the turning point.
Throughout the novel, Håkan travels through desolate places and encounters an abundance of characters. The above passage ends one of the novel’s longest chapters. A bleak sense of wandering and timelessness fills the pages following the death of Håkan’s companion, Asa. After leaving the canõns where the two once resided, Håkan begins to become indifferent to himself and detaches himself from human society, his past, and future thoughts. He walks in circles for years, eventually numbing himself and blurring the landscape around him. Even after he settles in a harsh environment, the state of his mind and his menial tasks continue to follow a cyclical pattern. The passage describing this process carries the burden of Håkan’s grief and the knowledge that he is ready for death.
Following an analysis of the structure, it becomes evident that the weight of each sentence brings stabilization to the entire novel. The passage is scientific and clear, lacking evocative imagery. Words such as “know,” “clear,” “reason,” and “considered” bury themselves in the text, mundane and devoid of emotion. The language is clinical as Håkan examines himself in the way Lorimer once taught him to regard unknown specimen; it is as if he͒ has become unfamiliar himself along with his journey. Additionally, the passage is a metaphor for Håkan’s structure being chiseled away like the canõns were; death and decay run through the paragraph like water and time, carrying with them the course of nature.
While both the context and the structure of the passage bring stabilization to the novel, the subtle repetition becomes hypnotic and stirs a restlessness in the reader. On two separate occasions in the chapter the text reads, “A year and an instant are equivalent in a monotonous life. Seasons went by and returned, and Håkan’s occupations never changed” (Díaz 207, 211): the paragraphs bear a resemblance to the seasons in the novel, passing by and returning. Håkan becomes unaware of the length of his mourning, a result of the quiet timelessness of the passage. In addition, the passage repeats, verbatim, previous paragraphs (208, 209). By concluding the chapter with repetition, Díaz physically portrays the cycles in which Håkan is burying himself.
Following the analysis of the context, structure, and repetition, it is essential to dissect the paragraph into three sections. This annexation serves the purpose of describing distinct components that are integral to the turning point. The first part of the paragraph shows that Håkan is unaware of his age: “even though he did not know how old he was,” (Díaz 216), which continues the timelessness noted throughout Håkan’s journey. Furthermore, Håkan’s clarity on the subject is scientific and orderly. When Håkan notes that, “it was clear to him that he had reached the age at which the human body has matured and starts its decline” (Díaz 216), it is as if Håkan is both aware and accepting of his decline. This acceptance in Håkan marks a critical turning point in the novel, a representation of growth and decay coming together, understanding each other, and walking separate ways.
The second section of the passage describes the fundamental characteristic of size. Imagery is provided to show how large Håkan is, stating, “Still, he had never stopped growing. Since he had not seen another human being in years, he had no sense of how tall he would feel next to someone else but he did know he would be conspicuous—an added reason for staying out of sight,” (Díaz 216). Håkan’s massive stature is a symbol for the growth of his character throughout the novel, his size developing with each new antagonist and horizon. Simultaneously, this section of the passage shows the solitude Håkan is experiencing and provides a note that Håkan wishes to stay out of sight, that he is fearful of being near another human.
The final section of the passage reads, “But these were only fleeting thoughts. He seldom considered his body or his circumstances—or anything else, for that matter. The business of being took up all his time,” (Díaz 216). The emotionless objectivity and scientific precision of the preceding diction in this section jars with the term “business”. While the entire novel is a portrait of a stranger in a strange land, this passage shows the point in which Håkan is condemning the strange. Essentially, he is condemning Americans in the old west, condemning entrepreneurship, and condemning business, highlighting the components of property ownership and upward mobility found in the ideal of the American Dream. Following the realization of how soulless and how little he has come to care for the land, Håkan’s mind becomes void, devouring a monotonous life. Håkan becomes apathetic and his movement becomes cyclical, even despite his silver compass.
The noted passage carries the heavy grief residing in Håkan and provides bare language to give a numbing portrayal of how clinical he has become to himself. Additionally, it weaves repetition throughout the chapter, a physical representation of Håkan’s cyclical pattern. The division of sections shows that Håkan is unaware of his age yet acknowledging of his decline, that his size is symbolism for his growth, and that he has come to the realization of how little he cares for the strange land that has unfolded before him. For these reasons, it becomes clear that it is the most overlooked turning point in the novel. Closing chapter twenty is almost altogether closing Håkan's once innocent journey. It raises the question of what could have been. Furthermore, it debatably leaves the question of what value the American Dream holds.
Works Cited
Díaz, Hernan. In the Distance. Minneapolis: Coffee House Press, 2017. Print.
