"Sometime a fire" & "South Cairo 1930-1938"

Hello again readers and welcome back to my blog. This week I read the next two chapters of The English Patient by Michael Ondaatje: "Sometime a fire" and "South Cairo 1930-1938." 

In this section, we learn of the character Kip. As Kip is a major presence in this reading, I wanted to do his character justice by exploring it in this post, however, I will also be delving into some of the stylistic elements Ondaatje employs.

Kip

Kip first arrives at the villa while Hana is serenading the bomb-laden hills from the library piano. Kip is a sapper: one who locates and disables enemy explosives. His occupation plays a role from the moment we meet him; Kip's initial reaction to Hana's playing is one of panic. Ondaatje writes:

"He followed the noise of the piano, rushing up the hill with Hardy, climbed over the stone wall and entered the villa. As long as there was no pause it meant the player would not lean forward and pull out the thin metal band to set the metronome going. Most pencil bombs were hidden in these—the easiest place to solder the thin layer of wire upright. . . He was unable to look at a room or field without seeing the possibilities of weapons there" (75).

Kip's fixation on the dangers of enemy bombs is central to his character. He's incredibly paranoid and is controlled by his duty to dismantle the trail of his enemy.

Another way that Kip's obsession with weaponry manifests itself is through his conversations with the English patient. 

"Kip, hearing from Caravaggio that the patient knew about guns, had begun to discuss the search for bombs with the Englishman. He had come up to the room and found him a reservoir of information about Allied and enemy weaponry" (88). 

Although the reader may take keenly to Kip's friendship with the English patient, these conversations reveal Kip's underlying struggle with his role as a sapper. He ensures that almost every facet of his life aligns with preventing the danger of German explosives.

Ondaatje's Style

Throughout the first four chapters, Ondaatje's command of literary elements has been astounding to me. He's able to weave together the lives of his characters, past and present, in a way that is truly beautiful. 

One of the ways that Ondaatje's style is intriguing is his frequent choice to shift the foci of his passages from one character to another. 

An example of this technique can be found after Hana helps Kip defuse a bomb in the gardens above the villa. Kip holds her in his arms as she drifts away into a midday nap, but he's still on edge.

"Why couldn't he sleep? Why couldn't he turn towards the girl, stop thinking everything was still half lit, hanging fire? In a painting of his imagining the field surrounding this embrace would have been in flames . . . How could he trust even this circle of elastic on the sleeve of the girl's frock that gripped her arm? Or the rattle in her intimate breath as deep as stones within a river.

She woke when the caterpillar moved from the collar of her dress onto her cheek, and she opened her eyes, saw him crouched over her. He plucked it from her face, not touching her skin, and placed it in the grass. . . It must have been afternoon, the sun over there. She leaned her head back and looked at him" (105). 

In this passage, we can see Ondaatje's shift from one character, Kip, to another, Hana. In the first of the paragraphs, Hana is referred to as "the girl" to suggest that the focus of the passage is the "he" (Kip). However, in the second passage, it is Hana who is central. Ondaatje's choice to change who the narrative follows is typical of the novel so far. It allows him to explore the relationships and perspectives of all of his characters and how they relate to one another. 

Aside from his choice to shift between characters as he writes, Ondaatje can create a lasting image in the minds of his readers. In this passage, the line "in a painting of his imagining the field surrounding this embrace would have been in flames" stood out to me. It not only creates an intriguing and vivid picture, but it also cements Kip's paranoia in a manner that is not only haunting, but beautiful.

Another stylistic choice that Ondaatje makes is to change the point of view and chronological perspective of the story. An example of this technique occurs near the beginning of "South Cairo 1930-1938."

Ondaatje describes Hana listening to the English patient's narration of his expeditions through the Libyan desert.

"In the arboured bedroom the burned patient views great distances. The way that dead knight in Ravenna, whose marble body seems alive, almost liquid, has his head raised upon a stone pillow, so it can gaze beyond his feet into vista. Farther than the desired rain of Africa. Towards all their lives in Cairo. Their works and days. 

Hana sits by his bed and she travels like a squire beside him during these journeys.

In 1930 we had begun mapping the greater part of the Gilf Kebir Plateau, looking for the lost oasis that was called Zerzura. The City of Acacias. 

We were desert Europeans. . . that large plateau resting in the Libyan Desert, the size of Switzerland, as Madox liked to say—was our heart, its escarpments precipitous to the east and west, the plateau sloping gradually to the north. It rose out of the desert four hundred miles west of the Nile" (135).

In the first two paragraphs of the passage, Ondaatje uses a third-person point of view. This allows him to liken the English patient to a "marble body [that] seems alive." This is significant because it emphasizes the English patient's proximity to death.

(A postcard image of the "dead knight in Ravenna" Ondaatje describes)

Ondaatje's shift in point of view later in the passage to first-person is also significant. As readers, we're able to live directly in this mind of marble. Through the eyes of the English patient, Ondaatje personifies the desert, noting it's "large plateau" of a "heart." I found Ondaatje's personification to be impressive, I loved how he was able to take us from looking down at the dying patient to hearing him relish in his past desert excursions.

So far, I've found Ondaatje's writing to be captivating. Each time I re-read a passage, I find more and more layers to digest.

I'm looking forward to reading more of this incredible novel. 

As always, thanks for reading,

Colby

Works Cited

Magini, G. (publisher, Italian, act. 1907-1914), artwork depicted by Lombardo, Tullio (sculptor, Italian, c.1455-1532). Ravenna - Istituto di Belle Arti. Guidarello Guidarelli - Dettaglio (Tullio Lombardo) [Ravenna - Institute of Fine Arts. Guidarello Guidarelli - Detail (Tullio Lombardo)]; verso: 41 Edit. G. Magini - Ravenna [divided back, no message], overall, recto. ca. 1907-1914 (publication date). Artstor, library.artstor.org/asset/SS35428_35428_32086154

Ondaatje, Michael. The English Patient. Vintage Books, 1998.