Joyce Carol
Oates’ short story Where Are You Going,
Where Have You Been?, like many of the other short stories we have read, is
about a young girl transitioning into a woman. However unlike some of the other
stories, Oates’ story of transition into womanhood is much darker and is
painful for the reader to read and experience.
The story
starts with a general discretion of the daily life of Connie, a fifteen year
old girl exploring her sexuality as a woman. Connie hates her life at home
where “[she] wishes her mother was dead and she herself was dead and it was all
over.” In order to escape the prison of her home, she frequently goes out with
her friend to the movies and a drive in restaurant, where they meet up with
boys. The story draws a clear distinction between Connie’s life at home and
away from home.
“Everything about her had two
sides to it, one for home and one for anywhere that was not home: her walk,
which could be childlike and bobbing, or languid enough to make anyone think
she was hearing music in her head; her mouth, which was pale and smirking most
of the time, but bright and pink on these evenings out; her laugh, which was
cynical and drawling at home . . but high-pitched and nervous anywhere else . .
.”
Clearly Oates is depicting
Connie living a dual life. At home she is attempting to maintain her childhood
in front of her family and, outside of the house at the shopping plaza, she
experiments with her growing womanhood. However this balance cannot last and,
Connie’s childhood is shattered when her lifestyle outside her house comes home
with her.
One
Sunday when Connie’s family is away at a barbeque, Arnold Friend, a boy who she
saw while out, comes to her house to get her. From her first encounter with
Arnold, Connie realizes that there is something strange about him. Oates
depicts him as having shaggy hair, a style not popular with most boys, and
using expressions that went out of date the year before. His unusual appearance
and demeanor give the reader an uneasy feeling and seem to foreshadow a
traumatic event.
When
Arnold appears in the driveway, Connie goes to question him. She leans out the
halfway out the doorway, inquiring as to why he is here. The fact that Connie
is halfway in the house and halfway out of it indicates she is unsure of how to
act in the situation. Should she attempt to act as a woman, as she does while
she is out? Or should she maintain her identity as a child, as she does in her
home? In the end she just stays perched in the doorway, forcing Arnold Friend
to determine in which direction she falls to.
After
a short bout of flirting between Connie and Arnold, the situation becomes tense
when Connie realized Arnold is much older than herself. At this point, she
demands that he leave. However, this only seems to make him more aggressive and
he proceeds to come closer to the door of the house. This causes Connie to
withdraw into the house, into her childlike persona. After several tense
exchanges, Connie continues to back farther into the house until she finally
reaches for the phone to call for help. Then something happens, which is not
entirely clear but, the lines “Arnold Friend was stabbing her with again and
again with no tenderness” seem to indicate a rape scene. During this scene, “She
cried out, she cried for her mother” showing that she was trying to grasp out
for her last bits of childhood.
After
the rape scene, it appears that Connie has lost all sense of her childhood.
With barely any urging, Arnold convinces her to leave the house and “out into the
sunlight where [he] waited.” In these final lines of the story Connie leaves
the house, and her childhood, behind and steps out into the adult world, which Arnold
Friend has forced her into.
Hi Taylor, Thanks for the great posts. You are the first to blog about the Oates story, which most students find disturbing. Thanks for the description of your fifth meeting. I am sorry that your partner is leaving the program, but thanks for your interest in her English. I also thought you were perceptive in your Space Race response. Good work. dw
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