Chapter 2: Breaking the Binaries, Jake and Brett as Androgynous Identities

Like Cixous, Willingham argues: "What is most noble about Hemingway's treatment of relationships, is, however, its deviation from orthodox renderings and expectations. Much of the book's work is to displace or disrupt convention to allow space where an(other) can thrive" (43).
In this chapter, I will demonstrate how Hemingway grapples with, and supplants conventional notions of gender to make way for true individuality. This individuality encompasses many selves within one self. I will argue that Jake and Brett are androgynous, dynamic and versatile characters whose full identities cannot be sincerely communicated or contained within the rigid confines of conventionality. Jake's character waivers from the feminized and sickly courtly lover, to the understanding anti-hero. Brett's character is more multifaceted as she continually waivers from a feminine softness, to a feigned boyhood, and a hightened masculinity represented through bullfighting symbolism. These numerous selves are constantly in dialogic with one another--I am not advocating a progression past various stages of selfhood, but the incorporations and accommodations made by the characters to allow for all aspects of selfhood to be recognized in themselves, and in one another. Ultimately, these two lovers must abolish the traditional myth of masculine and feminine binaries in order to reach a full understanding of themselves, and one another. The epiphanies Brett and Jake experience along separate rodes of identity allow them to begin a new relationship as friends by the end of the novel.
When speaking to Georgette, Jake classifies himself as being sick, and later points the origin of his sickness to the war: "She looked up to be kissed. She touched me with one hand (on the penis,) and I put her hand away. 'Never mind.' 'What's the matter? You sick?' 'Yes.'" (my parenthesis 15). Jake is sick, however the physical handicap that Georgette naively almost stumbled upon was his castration as a result of a land mine incident he underwent during his soldering in Italy. He is no longer suffering from any physical injury, but from the psychological and emotional devastation of his unfulfilled love for Brett. Jake possess all of the emotional qualifications necessary to play the traditional role of prince to his lady love. However, he lacks the physical equipment to consummate that love, and in that sense, to fully satisfy Brett. In chapter four, Jake expresses his inner turmoil as being more the result of his falling in love with Brett, and being unable to act out his love story, than his physical handicap: "I never used to realize it, I guess. I try and play it along and just not make trouble for people. Probably I never would have had any trouble if I hadn't run into Brett when they shipped me to England" (31). This 'modern' novel commences in a very traditional fashion, by adhering to the genre of romance through the representation of two star-crossed lovers. Jake is currently setting the stage by playing the role of the pinning, emotionally volatile courtly lover. Thus, the traditional romance is thwarted via the physical representation of a principle male figure who lacks a penis--the ultimate marker of masculinity. Because of his castration, Jake is unable to fulfill the role of hero, thus casting suspicion on what it means to be masculine. Jake is already placed in the realm of 'other' as he is traditionally ousted from standard, underdeveloped definitions of masculinity and femininity as resulting from a basic difference in sexual organs.
The traditional romance is further thwarted through the physical representation of a heroine who looks and acts like a boy. Brett's physical appearance is androgynous in that she dresses like a boy, but is "built with curves like the hull of a racing yacht" that you don't miss "with that wool jersey" (22). Brett is a walking contraction, a paradox of boy/woman. When Brett shows up on the scene in chapter three, she is surrounded by a crowd of homosexual males. These men are physically capable of possessing her, but they lack the drive to do so. The presentation of this jovial, sexually othered group leaves Jake racked with jealousy: "I was angry. Somehow they always made me angry. I know that they are supposed to be amusing, and you should be tolerant, but I wanted to swing at one, any one, to shatter that superior, simpering composure" (20). Jake is angry for two reasons, firstly because these men are physically capable of possessing Brett, and yet lack the sexual drive, and secondly because their sexual otherness does not seem to be plaguing them as it does Jake. These men are running around the dance floor, dancing with Brett, Georgette, and one another without a care in the world. In contrary to their current happiness, Mrs. Braddocks describes Jake as "worked up," and he laments that "the whole show makes me sick is all," and that he might just "throw up" with jealousy (21).
In chapter four, Brett and Jake's body language is illustrated as simultaneously expressing mixed emotions. Jake describes their propinquity stating: "We were sitting apart and we jolted close together going down the street" (25). Already, the reader is exposed to two contrary states of being acting as one, the state of separation, and unity. With minimal didacticism, Hemingway has foreshadowed the forbidden lovers' plight through shallow observations of their physicality. During this darkened, romantic cab ride, Brett is "pressed against the corner of the seat, as far away as she could get" (25). Jake continues to observe her shifting body: "She was sitting up now. My arm was around her and she was leaning back against me, and we were quite calm" (26). These abrupt shifts between the passive, relaxed state of "leaning back," and the romantically flustered jolts of activity via the getting "as far away as she could get" and the "sitting up," reveal that Brett is anything but "calm". Brett adheres to the traditional female gender role through her uncharacteristically passive sexuality. Jake narrates the scene: "I kissed her. Our lips were tight together and then she turned away and pressed against the corner of the seat, as far away as she could get. Her head was down. 'Don't touch me,' she said. 'Please don't touch me'" (25-26). Although Brett is subscribing to the passive feminine, her next shift in body movement is to control the gaze. Jake reminisces: "She was looking into my eyes with that way she had of looking that made you wonder whether she really saw out of her own eyes" (26). Simply through an expression of body language, Brett is draw as an androgynous character that exhibits both traditionally female and masculine characteristics. She is the sexually passive maiden that does not wish to be touched by the man she is most attracted to; yet she is also the sexually daring woman that is unfazed with the notion of looking straight into a man's eyes. Notice also that this change in gaze from looking down to looking straight into Jakes eyes marks a quick turn between feminine and masculine roles. This shift in gaze frightens Jake, causing him to question Brett's sincerity and fidelity as he ponders whether or not she is luring him with her eyes; a tactical maneuver used on other men. The notion of Brett as predator is in keeping with the text as there are countless incidents in the novel which liken her to a bullfighter. One such incident takes place in chapter three when Jake congratulates Brett on another kill, the luring of Robert Cohn: "'You've made a new one there,' I said to her. 'Don't talk about it. Poor chap. I never knew it till just now.' 'Oh well,' I said. 'I suppose you like to add them up.' 'Oh well. What if I do?" (22-23). Thus, in a matter of pages Brett exhibits a multitude of identities ranging from forlorn heroine, to chap, to bullfighter--the ultimate marker of code masculinity.