Rev. Crane goes on to tell us how novel reading leads to day-dreaming, "excitement of the passions" and leaves a person "unfit for real life". At one point he even compares it to an opium addiction.
Unfortunately for the Rev. Jonathan Townley Crane, professional disapprover of fiction, his son Stephen Crane grew up to write "The Red Badge of Courage" which is now considered one of the great American novels. Life can be ironic that way.
Key Words: naturalism, existentialism, nature, gods, religion, interpretation, epiphany, indifference, apathy, primal needs, fate & chance, survival, anthropomorphism, human significance, life & death
The four shipwrecked men in Stephen Crane’s naturalist short story, “The Open Boat,” are insignificant in the eyes of nature. Nature itself, readers learn, is wholly indifferent to the men altogether. But the men cannot accept that cold fact. Instead, the characters in Crane’s story revert to their primal desire to search for and apply meaning to the meaningless. In their minds, it is better to die as victims of wrathful gods than to drown in an apathetic ocean. Existentialism and naturalism combine in “The Open Boat” to illuminate the core theme of indifference as four men wrestle to comprehend their irrelevance to nature and life.
Recognizing Stephen Crane as a naturalist allows readers to better grasp the literary intentions in “The Open Boat.” Scholar Richard Lehan explains in his article, “Literary Naturalism and Its Transformations,” that, “Literary naturalism is characterized by plots involving a dichotomy between man and both natural […] and mechanical […] forces” (229). Lehan elaborates, writing that the protagonist’s goal in naturalist literature involves adapting to the juxtaposed force instead of being destroyed by it (229). Those who have read Crane’s “The Open Boat” are well aware of this dichotomy between man versus nature. As part of the naturalist vein, Crane portrays nature as a force that does not care about humans—an indifferent, unfeeling presence. In existentialist and naturalist fashion, Crane presents the idea that the only meaning humans derive from nature is what they give it. This rejection of the concept of innate human purpose is rather bleak, but in the end, the subtle optimism has to do with creating meaning rather than embracing a promised purpose. In that way, Crane presses readers to understand his story through the lens of naturalism and existentialism. Throughout “The Open Boat,” all four characters face nature and succumb to the reality that nature is indifferent to them; nature does not care if the shipwrecked men live or die. However, their innate and primal desire to evoke meaning makes the struggle for life significant.
Stephen Crane utilizes repeated phrases and imagery to explore how the human mind rejects the concept of “meaninglessness,” instead clinging to invented interpretation—even if it is divine wrath. The men in the ship prefer to think that, “…it was really the intention of the seven mad gods to drown him, despite the abominable injustice of it. For it was certainly an abominable injustice to drown a man who had worked so hard, so hard. The man felt it would be a crime most unnatural” (Crane, 24). Ironically enough, the idea of a shipwrecked man surviving is more unnatural than the concept of him drowning. Still, humans cling to the belief in their own importance, considering themselves the main characters in their stories. In that way, each person views themselves as so extremely important that they cannot die, at least not in a way that means next to nothing, such as drowning in an indifferent ocean. Crane continues, writing, “When it occurs to a man that nature does not regard him as important, and that she feels she would not maim the universe by disposing of him, he at first wishes to throw bricks at the temple, and he hates deeply the fact that there are no bricks and no temples” (24). Man can be mad at human gods who have temples, followers, rituals, and the like, as, paradoxically, the essence of the gods is more solid than the conception of nature. Throwing bricks at the ocean does not elicit the same symbolic weight as throwing them at a god’s temple. Nature has no temple; it merely exists. Man can throw bricks at trees, dirt, and oceans all day, but there is no “divinity of nature” who would be angry in turn—which is what the men crave. The shipwrecked men would rather seven angry gods scheme for their demise than sink to the ocean floor and have it mean nothing in the grand scheme of things.
One passage in particular perfectly exemplifies nature’s cold indifference to man and how it is both incomprehensible and unacceptable in the mind of man. Crane writes, “A high cold star on a winter's night is the word he feels that she says to him. Thereafter he knows the pathos of his situation” (24). This moment of epiphany is key for understanding the naturalist detachment in the story. One cannot “feel” a word, meaning the word the star gives him is silent—nonexistent. In a sense, the only word the star can give is the one the man offers it with his innately interpretive mind. The star, being high and cold, suggests unreachability and indifference. After he “hears” this “word,” he realizes the tragic situation he is experiencing—he will either live or die, but it means nothing to the star or the whole of nature. The waves will not cease as the ocean cradles his body; the sun will not hold still in the sky; the mountains will not shake—all of which are comforting scenarios humans can imagine. The high, cold star will not even take notice when he drowns, and to him, that is a piteous epiphany.
A core theme of Stephen Crane’s “The Open Boat” concerns humanity’s innate need to be an interpreter. One of the most significant passages in the story is repeated three times, but, fascinatingly, the passage gets shorter after each occurrence. The first time the quote appears, it reads, "If I am going to be drowned — if I am going to be drowned — if I am going to be drowned, why, in the name of the seven mad gods who rule the sea, was I allowed to come thus far and contemplate sand and trees? Was I brought here merely to have my nose dragged away as I was about to nibble the sacred cheese of life?” (13). The quote continues on to talk about Fate as a “ninny woman” who cannot mean to drown the men (13). The second time the quote comes into play, it is significantly shorter, stopping after mentioning the, “sacred cheese of life” (19). Finally, near the end of the story, all that remains of the lament is merely, "If I am going to be drowned […], why, in the name of the seven mad gods who rule the sea, was I allowed to come thus far and contemplate sand and trees?” (24). The quote’s gradual erosion reflects an exasperated acceptance of his circumstances and an epiphany of nature’s indifference. As the passage repeats and gradually evaporates, the man’s lament becomes more despairing as he realizes no angry gods are listening to him. In this way, the diminishing quote suggests a naturalist epiphany as the characters begin to understand the gravity of the situation. Instead of cursing the seven angry gods of the sea, he begins to accept, subtly, that perhaps the gods or nature are not to blame, and with that revelation, the comforting illusion of divine intervention—wrath or otherwise—begins to fade.
The same passage also highlights how the men, acting as interpreters, project an imagined rage onto nature to give their suffering purpose. While trying to anthropomorphize nature, the men realize that there are no temples or gods to throw bricks at, only the ocean—and the sea does not mind if you hate it. The “seven mad gods” offer some measure of comfort concerning the idea of drowning. In their minds, the idea of gods intentionally trying to kill them provides more significance to their lives as opposed to their life meaning absolutely nothing—no gods are angry at them, but it would be better if they were. Humans cannot easily rationalize the idea of existential chance; instead, they prefer to have someone or something to blame for their misfortune. But in reality, boats sink, men drown, and it doesn’t mean a thing.
At the end of the story, the final line contrasts ironically with the narrative thus far. Once three of the four men have survived the wreck and made their way to shore, Crane writes, “When it came night, the white waves paced to and fro in the moonlight, and the wind brought the sound of the great sea's voice to the men on shore, and they felt that they could then be interpreters” (34-5). For the last time, Crane anthropomorphizes the ocean, giving it a “voice” where it has none, the same thing he did to the high, cold star. But now, most of the men have survived, and their survival, in their minds, is a confirmation of their significance. Readers can practically picture them raising their fists at the ocean and yelling, “You can’t kill me, seven angry gods of the sea!”— even though it was just a moment ago that they were beginning to understand the truth: there are no angry gods. When on the boat, the characters cease blaming the gods, and their lament eases as they come to an epiphany of their insignificance to nature’s detachment. But the moment three of the men survive, their old ways come flooding back, and, in their minds, subconsciously or not, the gods and nature are alive once more. It’s time to search for temples and bricks again.
After the men are safe from nature’s danger, they feel comfortable enough to revert to their interpreting ways. But the ironic thing is that there is nothing to interpret now. It is merely because they are safe from danger, no longer struggling to survive, that they can step away from survival instinct and instead transition into explanation. Scholar Gregory Schirmer mentions in his article, “Becoming Interpreters: The Importance of Tone in Crane’s ‘The Open Boat,’” that, “What Crane says of the men in the open boat once they have come through their experience might be said of the reader of ‘The Open Boat’ as well” (229). Schirmer thinks readers can partake in the characters' experiences while empathizing with their insights and epiphanies. Even still, there is a disconnect with Schirmer’s idea here, which lies in Crane’s naturalist and existentialist notion that the narrative itself does not matter. The very act of attempting to interpret the story only magnifies humanity’s desperate need to derive meaning where there is none. Ironically, characters and readers who attempt elaborate interpretation risk overlooking the essence of naturalism—a worldview that resists definitive meaning even as it invites analysis.
Four shipwrecked men have an epiphany about their meaninglessness and nature’s indifference. Three of the men survive. Crane leaves the haunting question up to the readers whether it was fate that one man had to die or whether it means nothing in the grand scheme of nature. In naturalist fashion, the star they had once beseeched for meaning answered them without words, revealing the apathetic truth of their situation. But once safe on land, survival instinct eases, and the primal need for interpretation floods back. Nonetheless, even from the safety of dry land, the star is still cold, high, and indifferent as one man’s dead body washes out to sea. For nature, there is nothing here to mourn or interpret; nature does not care to meddle in the human rituals of life and death.
Works Cited
Crane, Stephen. “The Open Boat.” PDF File. The Open Boat.pdf, 1898.
Lehan, Richard. “Literary Naturalism and Its Transformations: The Western, American Neo-Realism, Noir, and Postmodern Reformation.” Studies in American Naturalism, vol. 7, no. 2, 2012, pp. 228–45. JSTOR.
Schirmer, Gregory A. “Becoming Interpreters: The Importance of Tone in Crane’s ‘The Open Boat.’” American Literary Realism, 1870-1910, vol. 15, no. 2, 1982, pp. 221–31. JSTOR.
"He was a struggling actor when he and Mother met. She had just returned from a war-bond selling tour." While only seen in minor roles, Stephen Crane was the charmer of Hollywood and had gone out with every female star, from Betty Grable to Lucille Ball. On three back-to-back nights, he took Lana Turner out, then Ava Gardner, then Rita Hayworth- a move which was considered legendary, even by Hollywood standards. Lana was his favorite though, after the dissolution of their marriage, he had a brief affair with Rita in the 1940s. "They had known each other anywhere from a few weeks to a few months (depending on who's telling the story) before July 17, 1942, when they flew to Las Vegas and got married. Their union was sealed by the same justice of peace who joined her in wedlock to Artie Shaw. 'Tie it tighter this time, Judge,' said Mother to Judge Marshall.
"I think Mother always had a hold on his heart. My father never said a word against her. He was always very protective to the point of getting into fights with her suitors long after they split [like Frank Sinatra]. Frank wouldn't go to any of my father's restaurants, even when they were the most popular places to go. They got into public fights over Mother a few times, before and after my parents married. Frank thought that Dad was some sort of gigolo, not good enough for mother. The first time I know of them ever being civil to each other was at my twenty-first birthday party, in 1964.After her divorce from Bob Topping and his from Martine Carol in 1953, I recall him asking at the end of one of our Sunday outings if she ever asked me about him and if I thought there was a chance they might get back together. 'Well, I don't know,' I said. I was thrilled, but Mom wasn't interested in reuniting with Stephen. After he passed away, I found a couple of scrapbooks he had. Of all the press he received over the years, all he had held onto were those from the time of his marriage to Mother." -Cheryl Crane
LANA TURNER & STEPHEN CRANE
footage from a Los Angeles Air Base during WWII, 1943
