Objectification, Symbolism, and Idols, discussing Monsoon Mansion

Objectification, Symbolism, and Idols

By Jamie Harper

In reading Cinelle Barnes’ memoir Monsoon Mansion, I found, perhaps somewhat surprisingly, that it continues a theme addressed in our last class discussion. The use of objects to tell a story.  Where The Cautioner’s Tale was a graphic novel focusing on visuals of symbolic meaning to tell a story of political satire and a woman struggling to prevail in a world of corrupt politics, in Monsoon Mansion we are presented with a story focusing on descriptions of symbolic objects to infer subtext in a story of a young girl struggling to survive in a corrupted household.

At the beginning of Barnes’ memoir, we enter the story through the beginning of the corruption that seeps throughout the author’s home, the stillbirth of her baby brother, which manifests the beginning of the mother’s descent, as well as the descent of the household, both literally and metaphorically. “My mother is the mansion” (p. 221) Barnes writes toward the end of the novel, clearly spelling out for us the symbolism built up in her mind. Mother, home, house, childhood, mansion, all end up becoming synonymous with ruin for Barnes. Starting off with objects and toys representative of the opulent lifestyle Barnes experienced her first few years in the mansion, she paints us a picture with chandelier crystals, golden tassels, marble floors, fondant roses, perfumes, and a basement full of high fashion clothes, shoes, and handbags. In this section of her life Barnes experiences with world through gold-gilt and objectification. Barnes’ mother objectifies her as just another expensive accessory or decoration, speaking to and of her daughter as if she were a flower (p. 27) or doll to be dressed up and paraded around (p.26). This behavior was passed down from Barnes’ grandfather, or Lolo, and eventually learned by Barnes as she begins objectifying things she feels she can exert control over in much the same way her mother controls her. The imagined neonate of her deceased little brother, the serving girl Elma, all become Barnes’ “toy and...friend” (p.32). This socialized objectification sticks in Barnes’ subconscious throughout the rest of her storytelling, even after she matures enough to begin to see people as people rather than things, in her tendency to, almost an obsession with, describing to us and listing physical objects.

Moving forward in the story, Barnes paints us the decay in her parents’ marriage and the mansion, making note of golden letter openers, floating slippers, cans, satin ribbons, disintegrating cardboard, and molding wallpaper. She symbolizes both her father’s leaving and the coming of her mother’s new lover with suitcases, using their sizes as a means to describe their personalities and the impacts they have on her life. As her mother’s mental health deteriorates and step-father Norman’s abuse escalates, so does the deterioration of the mansion and the escalation of it’s ruin, focusing on things such as broken furniture, cock fighting rings, cigarettes, chicken shit, and the eventual termite holes.

Barnes also finds both herself and her mother represented in the water that is so prevalent within the narrative, with her mother taking the role of the monsoon which swept through the mansion, starting the root of the destruction with her narcissism “blast[ing] to drown [them]” (p.222). Taking the other side of the coin, Barnes signifies herself in the water that soothes, that cleans and refreshes, that she can take refuge in, be it the pools of the flood, the pump of the pozo, or the balm of the ocean, a symbol of creation and destruction which features clearly in Barnes’ narrative.

All of these objects and symbols in Barnes’ story seem to lead to it’s ultimate question, what happens when you put a young child in an unstable, destructive home, rather than a healthy, nurturing one? Barnes is often placed in parallel with Elma, who is from the poor, serving class but beloved and supported by her parents, and in this parallel she forces the reader to compare their own experiences growing up with the two girls’. Furthering this, we then have the question of, what will happen to Barnes? It is obvious that we know she survives her abuse and malnutrition in that we are actively reading her memoir, but we do not know to what extent she will suffer or prevail. It is this secondary question which gives us the plot for Barnes’ story, allowing us to follow the arc of her growing up, maturing, learning to stand up for herself, treat others well, and to separate from the toxicity of her mother, all while we root for her to succeed. Does this memoir need more of a plot than this simple search for freedom? In my opinion no, memoirs do not. To me, a good memoir is one that shares with us the growth of another human being, their triumphs over their difficulties and the ways in which they survived and learned from these experiences. As much as we all love a happy ending, the point of a memoir is the journey, not the destination, and in my opinion, Barnes did a wonderful job of sharing her clearly traumatic journey with us using the artful crafting of events, emotions, feelings, and people through symbolic idols.