There is a story of a city known as Omelas which appears to be the happiest place on Earth. The city is prosperous, and its citizens, who are intelligent and mature, celebrate the first day of summer with a grand festival. It seems perfect, except for one aspect that all who have reached the age of adolescence are aware of: one child, locked in an unbearable, filthy closet setting with barely any food or kind words, suffering for the happiness of everyone else. Most are shocked and ponder for a while after learning of this, and choose to accept this social contract, continuing their happy lives in Omelas with the knowledge of the child’s existence. The others, after whom the story is named, walk away from Omelas forever, unable to come to terms with this moral paradox. The Ones Who Walk Away from Omelas by Ursula K. Le Guin describes different reactions to a shocking revelation: those who tell themselves the cold, hard truth; those who accept the dilemma as a necessary trade; and those who imagine that the child is not there, pretend that no one needs to suffer in exchange for their happiness. They tell different stories to deal with the knowledge of the child, some that simply convey facts, some that help escape reality, and others that justify a decision or cause guilt. It is not only people in fictional works who use storytelling for these reasons. Real people, especially soldiers experiencing or having experienced war, turn to storytelling for many different reasons. Whether to relieve us of a burden, to provide comfort, or any other reason, storytelling serves a much broader purpose than merely conveying facts.
One important purpose of storytelling is to release our memories and ideas and relieve ourselves of a burden. Many soldiers struggle with sharing their experiences with someone. One such soldier is Norman Bowker in The Things They Carried, who wanders aimlessly around town upon return from war and comments that “the place looked …still and lifeless… the town could not talk, and would not listen. ‘How’d you like to hear about the war?’ He might have asked, but the place could only blink and shrug. It had no memory, therefore no guilt” (O’Brien 143). Bowker desperately wants someone to ask him about the war, but unlike him, the town had ‘no memory’ and ‘no guilt,’ providing no sympathy for Bowker. The ‘lifeless’ town had no human empathy for him and ‘would not listen.’ Without someone to talk to and release his experiences and guilt, Bowker feels lonely and not understood, and ends up committing suicide. Another veteran, Brandon Friedman, similarly recalls in an article called The End of War Stories that “when I left the Army after two combat tours, I couldn’t shut up about it. I had to put the memories somewhere. So many were toxic, and I needed to purge. I would tell stories to anyone who would listen” (Friedman). Friedman’s diction of “couldn’t shut up” as well as telling his stories to “anyone” conveys his desperation to have his stories be heard. Describing his memories as “toxic” further depicts them as something poisonous that he needs to “purge.” By writing them onto paper, he releases his toxic memories into stories, relieving him of the poisonous burden. Another article, How Art Heals the Wounds of War by Andrea Stone, explains that creating masks helps soldiers because “someone who has experienced trauma has a block that keeps them from verbalizing what they’ve been through… The mask gives them a way to explain themselves. The concrete image of the mask unleashes words… reintegrates the left and right hemispheres. Now they can discuss their feelings…” (Stone). War veterans experience a “block” that prevents them from formulating words and expressing themselves. By releasing their thoughts onto a mask, they are able to “unleash words”: they are able to “explain” themselves, to “verbalize” and “discuss their feelings.” Storytelling through art allows soldiers to release their trauma into a mask. Those carrying their burdens for too long can face a fate like Bowker’s; through these masks, however, soldiers who struggle because of untold experiences locked inside them can free them, releasing ill feelings of guilt, regret, loneliness, and trauma into the stories they tell through words or art.
Another purpose of storytelling is to help cope or deal with a difficult reality. While Norman Bowker and Henry Dobbins play checkers, O’Brien and the other soldiers enjoy watching because “there was something… orderly and reassuring [about the game]… the playing field was a strict grid… you could watch the tactics unfolding… there were rules” (O’Brien 32). The soldiers are drawn in by the “strict grid” of the checkerboard. O’Brien mentions the “tactics” of the game, directly comparing it to his current position in war. Checkers is “strict,” war is not; checkers is “orderly and reassuring,” war is not; in checkers, “there were rules”; in war, there are none. The soldiers watching the story of the checkerboard unfold are trying to grasp onto the hint of control they had back in the U.S.; the story Bowker and Dobbins create on the board allows them to escape the reality of war and find comfort in everything the war is not. O’Brien also uses storytelling to cope with the loss of a soul. Reflecting on his imaginations of Linda, who died when he was young, O’Brien reveals that “in the spell of memory and imagination, I can still see her as if through ice, as if I’m gazing into some other world… sometimes I can even see Timmy skating with Linda under the yellow floodlights… I’m skimming across the surface of my own history… and when I take a high leap into the dark and come down thirty years later, I realize it is as Tim trying to save Timmy’s life with a story” (O’Brien 245-246). In this metaphor, O’Brien skates on ice that reflects his memories and history. Through the ice, he can remember Linda; he can “still see her… as if [he’s] gazing into some other world.” By remembering Linda and imagining she’s still alive, it helps him cope with the reality that she’s dead, because to him, her soul is still alive. Thirty years later, as he recalls his past, he realizes he’s trying to preserve his younger self, his innocence; that “it is as Tim trying to save Timmy’s life with a story.” Through the ice, through his stories, imagination and memories, he can “save Timmy’s life” as well as everyone he has lost in the past. As demonstrated by O’Brien with Linda and the soldiers with the checkerboard, imagination and storytelling can help one escape reality or be comforted by a loss through the salvation of a soul.
By allowing us to release repressed thoughts and by providing comfort in times of need, storytelling proves itself to have a purpose beyond the communication of factual information. Just as the citizens of Omelas do, many soldiers need utilization of storytelling for letting go of a guilty conscience or to escape the realities of their surroundings. War veterans often return home struggling to release their experiences and share with someone who understands. Storytelling is then crucial in welcoming a soldier back from war: by empathizing, listening, realizing the true magnitude of war’s horrors, and providing a platform for veterans to express themselves, veterans will be able to relieve themselves of much burden and more comfortably reintegrate into society.
Works Cited
- Friedman, Brandon. “The End of War Stories.” The New York Times. The New York Times, 21 Mar. 2013. Web. 02 May 2017.
- Natchez, Jon, and Sarah Robbins. The Things They Carried: Tim O’Brien. New York, NY: Spark Pub., 2003. Print.
- Stone, Andrea. “How Art Heals the Wounds of War.” National Geographic. National Geographic Society, 01 May 2017. Web. 02 May 2017.
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