🌹The Rose & Skull ☠️
Sex Trade and Orientalism
(2 More Essays on QA and Year)
Sex Trade
Scratch Outline for “She Works Hard for the Money”
Both novels portray a potent image and impact of the social inequalities between these impoverished “prostitutes” who are subjected to an unfathomable level of dehumanizing humiliation which is haunting and heartbreaking—beyond that of the betjack and trishaw drivers.
Given the eras in which these novels were written, it is also socially appropriate to focus on the male hardships of the betjack and trishaw drivers, as it was and still is taboo to be a “whore” (a very western, religious constructed concept).
In The Year of Living Dangerously Koch’s use of imagery is haunting and heartbreaking when he talks about the “Cemetery Girls”.
Koch’s comparison of the women to a “group of cattle debating movement” as their prospective client’s car approaches them, depicting a level of human desperation that is almost incomprehensible to the reader.
In The Quiet American, Greene’s use of imagery is also dramatically impactful when he talks of the “House of Five Hundred Women” -- more sedate than Koch’s but still employing the sense of desperation of these women.
A heartbreaking image of Greene’s that is not readily expressed is that these women will take anyone and everyone’s money.
In conclusion, it is not about “feminism”, it is about “humanism”.
“She Works Hard for the Money”
by Brie Warnick
The novels The Quiet American and The Year of Living Dangerously show powerful imagery of the nameless, faceless women being exploited sexually in order to survive. Both novels portray a potent image and impact of the social inequalities between these impoverished “prostitutes” who are subjected to an unfathomable level of dehumanizing humiliation which is haunting and heartbreaking—beyond that of the betjack and trishaw drivers. The women of the “House of Five Hundred Girls” in Vietnam and the women of the “Cemetery” in Indonesia sell their bodies in order to survive, often becoming riddled with sexually transmitted diseases to feed themselves and their children (perhaps conceived during a sexual transaction). As the local governments afforded them little to no education, their circumstances in life left them no choice but to sell the only thing of value they owned—their body. As a result, these women were exploited not only by the Westerners, but also by their own countrymen.
Given the eras in which these novels were written, it is also socially appropriate to focus on the male hardships of the betjack and trishaw drivers, as it was and still is taboo to be a “whore” (a very western, religious constructed concept). In both novels no female character was without the possibility of being a “whore”, not even Jill (a westerner) in The Year of Living Dangerously. As a single divorced woman Jill was still seen as a “hot piece of tail” that was hated by the wives of the British Officers and desired by many men (hence her arrangement with Billy). An unattached woman would easily be labelled as a “whore” if she was viewed as a threat, or if she was sexually liberated or if she rejected a man’s advancements. If Fowler did not end up marrying Phuong in The Quiet American, she potentially could have become a “whore”.
In The Year of Living Dangerously Koch’s use of imagery is haunting and heartbreaking when he talks about the “Cemetery Girls”. He describes this dark, licentious cemetery surrounded by beautiful Frangipani trees, remotely located where these women gather to compete to earn a living. The image of a cemetery should indicate a place of serenity and rest, but instead it becomes tainted with the harsh reality of “immoral” acts, which is a continual theme through the book. Interestingly, the Banshees (male prostitutes) are the ones trying to entice their customers by wearing the national dress and their hair “piled high”, whereas the women are trying to emulate the western style of dress (tattered rags really) and their hair long and loose.
Koch’s comparison of the women to a “group of cattle debating movement” as their prospective client’s car approaches them, depicting a level of human desperation that is almost incomprehensible to the reader. Another haunting image is of the “anguished faced” woman who felt the need to stand in front of the car headlight and lift her dress to expose her nether regions to prove her female gender. To be reduced to such a level is inarguably heartbreaking. Koch creates this image of pandemonium with the “Cemetery Girls” as they approach the car of Hamilton and Curtis by describing these women as having “spidery eagerness” as they swarm the car, clawing and climbing on the roof, the hood – every available surface. They are fighting with each other to be seen and get selected by the “Johns”, crying out shrilly and exposing themselves with the hopes of earning a dollar. Koch creates a level of discomfort that invokes a sense of shame as Curtis giggles with delight at these frenzied women trying to entice him. Koch shows how these women are “whores” particularly through the eyes of Billy when he compares them to the woman called Ibu. She may have dabbled in prostitution, but because she wears the national dress and her hair in the traditional bun, she is seen as a woman of respectability. Ultimately it is impossible to dismiss the pain and suffering of these women.
In The Quiet American, Greene’s use of imagery is also dramatically impactful when he talks of the “House of Five Hundred Women” -- more sedate than Koch’s but still employing the sense of desperation of these women. The women working in this house have less impoverished surroundings – they have beds, cubicles with curtains and access to a grassy courtyard. Yet there is still frantic aggression, the women grabbing, swarming and bickering to be the one chosen. Greene depicts a “ring” of women which creates an image of a wrestling match, a “scrimmage” like a football game, or a tug of war implying these women are trying to get the trophy. Although these women are not referred to as outright “whores” in The Quiet American, they are certainly exploited and treated as such by the westerners and the various soldiers chasing “a bit of tail”.
A heartbreaking image of Greene’s that is not readily expressed is that these women will take anyone and everyone’s money. They cannot pick and choose their “Johns” and have turned a blind eye to who these men really are, what they stand for, and what they are doing in their war-torn country. These “women of ill-repute" will take the money from the hand of a soldier who could have just returned from killing their family members in the remote surrounding villages. These women are left without choice, and as the saying goes “beggars can’t be choosers”. Their survival depends on what little money they can stick in their pockets to support their families.
In conclusion, it is not about “feminism”, it is about “humanism”. The social inequality and unjust exploitation of these women trying to survive is utterly devastating and heartbreaking. These novels put forth the realities of two countries going through major political unrest and the harsh realities of war, and how the people have been left to fend for themselves in any way possible. (988)
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Orientalism
Scratch Outline for “Listening For The Voice Of The Other”
In both novels, readers are not only exposed to Orientalism, but are also shown the damage that can be done when Western visitors reduce the East to nothing more than their own narrow understanding of it.
Portrayed through the eyes of her English lover, the reader’s understanding of The Quiet American’s Phuong is stunted by Fowler's limited perception of her.
When introduced to Billy Kwan in The Year of Living Dangerously, we get a sense of hope that this is a character able to bridge a gap between the West and the East.
Finally, Hamilton’s assistant Kumar emerges as an Eastern character who gets to define and represent himself.
Listening For The Voice Of The Other
(Anonymous)
Coined by cultural critic Edward Said, the term Orientalism refers to “the way the West perceives of — and thereby defines — the East” (Said). Rather than allowing Asia and its people to represent themselves, in Orientalism Asia “becomes an ‘other-ized’ fiction of everything the West is not...” (Fang). Throughout The Quiet American and The Year of Living Dangerously, it’s impossible to deny Orientalism’s pervasive presence. It is tempting to blame Koch and Greene for perpetuating their own Orientalist views: after all, both novels were written during the height of the cold war, when an ‘us’ versus ‘them’ mentality permeated the West. However, a closer inspection indicates a level of self-awareness in both authors. In both novels, readers are not only exposed to Orientalism, but are also shown the damage that can be done when Western visitors reduce the East to nothing more than their own narrow understanding of it.
Portrayed through the eyes of her English lover, the reader’s understanding of TQA’s Phuong is stunted by Fowler's limited perception of her. We don’t get to know her thoughts and feelings, as we do Fowler’s. In fact, Fowler goes so far as to imply that Phuong lacks thoughts of her own, saying “she’ll never suffer like we do from thoughts, obsessions...”. Her silence is a choice Greene has deliberately made in order to reveal how little we allow the ‘other’ to speak for themselves. To Fowler, Phuong is simply the comfort of “the clink of a cup,” someone to prepare his opium pipe, and an escape from his unhappy marriage and life in London. Greene also allows Phuong to serve as a symbol of Vietnam itself, subject to Fowler’s exoticization and Pyle’s Orientalism. Embodying America’s neo-colonial relationship with Vietnam, Pyle is fixated on rescuing Phuong. “I want to give her a decent life,” Pyle says, “This place — smells.” Both men reduce Phuong to an object of desire, helpless to define herself and unable to hold her own. “One always spoke of her... in the third person as though she were not there,” Fowler states casually at one point. Sadly, neither Western man seems to consider the possibility that Phuong is her own person, capable of speaking for herself.
Despite this, Fowler does show an attempt to understand the desires of the average Vietnamese person. In the tower on the road from Tanyin, he tells Pyle that the Vietnamese want peace, enough rice, and that “they don’t want our white skins around telling them what they want.” However, based on Fowler’s interactions throughout the novel, it’s doubtful that these ideas have been learned through a relationship with locals, as the only locals he seems to have contact with are Phuong and her sister, who are far removed from the Vietnamese peasants he is speaking for. Again we see a Westerner confidently imposing his own perceptions, rather than allowing the Vietnamese people to represent themselves.
When introduced to Billy Kwan in TYOLD, we get a sense of hope that this is a character able to bridge a gap between the West and the East. Billy feels he belongs in Indonesia and that he knows it better than the other expats. As someone whose appearance allows him to be mistaken for a local, who is rumoured to speak fluent Bahasa, perhaps Billy can avoid ‘othering’ the Indonesian people the way the other Western characters do. After all, he doesn’t walk around in the same “white mask” that his colleagues do. Billy shows compassion to the Javanese, abhorring the exploitation of poor women at the cemetery and caring for Ibu and Udin. He even insists on living like an Indonesian in his bungalow. However, his dependence on an air conditioner is our first hint that Billy still has one foot firmly planted in the Western world. At times, Billy’s feelings towards the Indonesian people tend more towards pity than solidarity. He says that he is concerned for the poor in Jakarta because “as a Christian” he must be, revealing that his compassion is fuelled, at least partially, by religious duty or perhaps his own saviour complex — or in this case, his dalang complex. To that end, he thinks he can save Ibu and Udin, but he can’t: Indonesia’s problems are more complex than he is able to understand.
Finally, Hamilton’s assistant Kumar emerges as an Eastern character who gets to define and represent himself. Shortly after he is introduced, the mysterious note that tips Hamilton off to his assistant’s PKI affiliations makes the reader wary that Kumar will be ‘othered’ in the way that communist characters in cold war era stories so often are. However, Hamilton values Kumar’s insights and allows him to have his own voice, though Kumar initially shares his thoughts inconclusively, evidently to hide his political affiliations. As their relationship and trust deepens, Kumar is more forthright with his views and political opinions, often directly challenging Hamilton’s understanding of what Indonesians need. Though it’s clear that Hamilton isn’t ready to consider communists as anything other than the enemy, Koch exposes this Orientalist attitude when Kumar bluntly asks Hamilton, “What do you really know of Communism?” Hamilton responds with a dismissive straw man argument, saying that “the hardest thing to bear about a dictatorship would be reading the same propaganda in the papers every day.” Although disappointed, Kumar remains generous towards Hamilton, perhaps because, as he had earlier mentioned, Indonesians “are accustomed to an attitude of superiority” from white people. However, in their final conversation at Hamilton’s bedside, Hamilton realizes he doesn’t have the answers he thought he did, and stops himself from telling Kumar what to do. “It was stupid,” he realized, “trying to tell Kumar what he deserved.” It took a loss of sight for Hamilton to finally see Kumar as his equal.
Both Fowler’s acknowledgement that there must be more to Phuong than he understood (“I knew I was inventing a character just as much as Pyle was”) and Hamilton’s telling final conversation with Kumar challenge Western readers to examine our own Orientalist views, and to allow the East to speak for itself.