Stitches: Section III

Contrast:

In this section there is a stark contrast between the collective attitude of the surgeons, and David's actual health situation. When he's about to be operated on (the first time, p. 164), the jocose and condescending surgeon suggests that "afterwards you'll be so pretty, the girls won't leave you alone. Ha! Ha!"

This remark and the strangely upbeat nature of the doctors did not quite strike me until later in the section when he finds the letter on his mother's desk. I went back and re-read the scenes with the doctors in the operation room after David's realization that he has cancer, and I was surprised by how sick and insensitive the doctors and surgeons seemed when I read it for the second time.

Question:

Two distinct dreams have appeared by this section of the novel: the first, the strange animal with the umbrella ("Mama"), and the second the bombarded chapel. Obviously if these were insignificant they would not have been included in the novel at all. Why is the first dream included (as it is never referred to again)? And the second dream is actually revisited later — what, if anything, about the setting was representative of David's situation?

Journal - Words:

The scene in which David removes his bandage to reveal his stitches is a very important moment in this novel — after all, that is what lends it its name.

On page 189, there are three separate frames that describe the one sentence of narration: "And I saw / for the first time / what they had done." The separation of this sentence among the three frames makes the reader slow down to prepare for the impact of the next page.

The following two pages (190-191) house some of the most piercing words and images of the entire novel. David narrates: "A crusted black track of stitches; my smooth young throat slashed and laced back up like a bloody boot. / Surely this is not me. / No, friend. It surely is."

I thought that this single page had so much weight that I could almost write about every journal topic and not leave the page. The two brief lines "Surely this is not me" and "No, friend. It surely is" are impeccably concise considering how much they reveal about David's own existential crisis / lack of identity. Was he really all that concerned about the appearance of his "smooth young throat," or is he metaphorically referring to his entire young life? This statement is actually much more profound than a mere remark about his physical anguish; it suggests his own reflection on his troubled childhood and neglecting family.

Another incredibly intense moment takes place on the pages 204-205 when David finds the letter on his mother's desk. This time the sentence in the letter is actually elongated to span two entire pages. This combination of words and imagery is really beautifully executed. For each portion of the sentence there is a new drawing of David's eyes as he realizes just how brutal his life is.

The single sentence "of course the boy does not know it was cancer" is the single most meaningful line in the novel so far and represents a plot element so monumental that it has to be portrayed accordingly. For the next four pages, there is only imagery and no words, adding to the gravity of this scene.