Paddy Clarke Ha Ha Ha

Since I read the book all in one sitting, I'll post an overall response here.

What I, and I imagine most people, found most interesting in this book immediately was the narrative voice. For me, its absolute authenticity was the most striking feature; as someone who used to be a 10-year-old British boy, I could certainly identify easily with much of the psychology behind Paddy's words and actions, even though I experienced and did little of what Paddy does.

As the book progressed, however, what struck me most was the shift in power in the relationship between Paddy and his brother. Initially, Paddy is very much the dominant force, mainly because he doesn't seem to care about Sinbad, and Sinbad is unwilling to fight back. It's not an unusual sibling relationship; the younger trails behind the older, who in turn treats them abysmally- not maliciously, just because that's what older brothers do. So, Sinbad plays along with Paddy, who gives him the mouldy faux communion bread, and tries at every opportunity to get him into trouble: 'Francis didn't lift the seat! I shouted.' Here, the violence enacted upon Sinbad is casual, meaningless, and with no real intent: 'I kicked Sinbad when he was wiping the seat with his sleeve.' Sinbad comes to expect it, worried to play a leper in case he gets kicked.

Nevertheless, Sinbad is always present, always comes back for more abuse uncomplainingly. Perhaps he idolises his older brother to an extent. As the troubles at home become more and more pronounced, however, there is a shift. Partly this is because Sinbad (now Francis more often) retreats into silence whilst Paddy wants to talk about the situation between their parents, but it becomes even more significant when Francis transfers this silent resentment into his dealing with Paddy.

One of the most poignant scenes of the novel comes when Paddy tries to make amends to his brother, and shelter him from the turbulence at home: 'I was going to look after him.' Paddy even calls him Francis intentionally, only to be met with a harsh coldness: 'leave me alone, he said.' Later, equally heart-wrenchingly, Paddy is still trying to reach his brother, who has taken silence to extremes (scene starts p.239). Paddy kicks his brother in this scene, but everything is different. Now, he kicks Francis simply to elicit some kind of response- he gets none. As he subsequently explains: 'I wanted to help him... when he wouldn't do what I wanted him to I couldn't help going back to annoying him, frightening him, hitting him. Hating him. It was easier.'

Ceremony Wrap-Up

The close of Ceremony makes even more explicit what has been clear throughout the novel; Silko's very strong affinity for her Native American heritage. Tayo is healed not only by the Native America medicine man, Betonie, but by an almost mystical Native American girl, and alongside her, the very land itself. Those set in opposition to those ideals- and they are Native Americans, too, as well as Whites, are portrayed by Silko as monsters. They are drunk, disloyal, and brutal. Silko paints them as odious, capable of great atrocity and disrespect.

This comes to a head with the pseudo-crucifixion of Harvey, an act which makes the slightly ambiguous nature of who Silko blames even more so. For it is Emo, a Native American, who is the most evil character- symbolic 'flashing yellow eyes' are evident on his glasses as they reflect the fire, and his impaling of Harvey is described as 'witchery'- the same 'witchery' that brought Whites into the world; and who performs the witchery? Native Americans. So where does the blame lie here? Silko seems to be suggesting that the most atrocious acts are those of the Native Americans who reject their own culture, or dabble in great evil (both), rather than any external race.