Sex and Violence in This Woman
After the success of Christ in Concrete in 1939, di Donato cared
about other things, rather than writing and publishing more of his
fiction. He toured the country in
support of Christ in Concrete, worked in a camp for conscientious
objectors during World War II, had himself a family, and started his own
construction business. It was not until
nineteen years later, in 1958, that di Donato published another novel. It was called This Woman, and it was
criticized widely for its lack of substance.
Critics felt that di Donato did not live up to the reputation he created
for himself with the success of Christ in Concrete.
Even recently, This Woman has been called “at best, simply a
collection of di Donato’s sexual exploits and fantasies” (Esposito 182). Certainly, This Woman does not reach
the coherency of plot nor the beauty of the language he achieved in Christ
in Concrete. Yet, as a work on its
own, This Woman was a very experimental and sexually vulgar piece for
its time, one that might have shocked readers and turned them away despite its
often poetic prose.
In contrast to the plot of Christ in Concrete, This Woman is
about Paul’s sexual obsessions and jealousies as an older, married man. Because it carries the same intimacy of Christ
in Concrete, but tells a much more forbidden story for its time, This
Woman was virtually condemned.
Like Christ in Concrete, This Woman enters into the
characters’ minds with ease. Di Donato
wanted the reader to know what these characters were thinking. He often slips into the first-person
narrative from the third-person omniscient narration, as he did in Christ in
Concrete, happening mostly with Paul, but also occurring quite frequently
with Paul’s wife, Isa. We are granted
access to Isa’s psyche in one particular scene, wherein she thinks about Paul
while also reminiscing about her dead husband Jack:
She purred and giggled. The same bed but different. Didn’t think I’d feel it under me
again. It’s fun doing it here. This guy’s good. Don’t care who knows it.
I wonder if Jacky’s all right, my little angel, well, mother is with her,
nothing to worry about. My insurance
check should be in the mail, wish I had made Jack take out a bigger
policy. “Oh sweetheart how I’ve been
needing you. You’ll murder me you
darling son-of-a-bitch. Don’t
stop. I love it, I love it.” Only Jacky matters to me, and it’ll be many
years before she knows what it’s all about.
I love that baby. She’s mine,
all mine. I’ll give her the best. Mother’ll guess what’s going on. I’ll buy her a new dress. She’s never been able to stop me from doing
what I please. “Paolo boy, you know
your stuff. You kill me. This is the way I want to die.” This guy’ll slaughter me before the night’s
over. Goodie, goodie, he fits
beautifully (Woman 18).
Notice how di Donato also mixes in what Isa is saying with what she is
thinking, thus allowing the reader to see her on the outside as well as the
inside. She lies, telling Paul that she
needs him while all she can think about is her dead husband Jack and his
insurance policy. By initializing the
novel in a third-person omniscient narration, di Donato possessed the freedom
to move in and out of every character’s head.
With Three Circles of Light, di Donato limits himself by
narrating in the first-person in the form of Paul. In Christ in Concrete and This Woman, he allows
himself much more narrative freedom.
Even when di Donato is narrating in the third-person, he is still getting
inside his characters’ psyches, such as when Paul recollects his father’s
death, his own affair as a child with an older woman, and the religious
consequences involved:
That was the Spring his father was killed in a construction accident. His father’s death was the destroying of his
Paradise. The Christian God vanquished
the pagan God. Imagination
wavered. In him the sense of sin and
fear were born. His father’s death was
the wages of sin. His father had been
unfaithful to his mother. Stella had
betrayed her husband. He had taken
Stella’s lust to his lips and had sinned against God and his mother. He had been cursed. His father had lain with his godmother Diane
Dunn. Her baptism of him was the
original curse. That was long ago. And since his many years he had easily had
eager lust from married women (Woman 39).
Even though di Donato narrates in the third-person, the reader still has a
clear sense of what Paul is thinking.
His thoughts are printed directly on the page, but are simply put there
by di Donato in the third-person. The
intimacy involved with This Woman in terms of the connection and
identification of the reader to the characters of the novel, often rivals that
of Christ in Concrete. We know
how the characters in This Woman are thinking, feeling, and acting. This makes the novel much more absorbing and
intriguing for the reader. So, then,
why was This Woman deemed a failure, while Christ in Concrete was
hailed as a success? There are two key
explanations for these results.
First, This Woman does not have a central plot on which to base the
characters’ feelings and emotions. We
know exactly how Paul and Isa are feeling throughout the novel, but we have
difficulty discovering a meaning for these thoughts, as the plot has no strong
foundation. In This Woman, Paul meets Isa, and eventually they marry
and Paul works out his sexual jealousies.
Although this may seem like a decent plot foundation, di Donato does not spend enough time writing
about what happens, and too often spends many pages inside the characters’
minds. The result leaves the reader
lost in the characters’ emotions, which easily becomes tiresome. In the corpus of di Donato’s fiction and
especially his development of Paul throughout, This Woman plays an
important part in Paul’s sexual development and resolution. Standing as a novel on its own, however,
with both strong characters and a strong plot, This Woman frequently wanders away from its plot. As in Three Circles of Light, This
Woman needs a more concrete plot before it can be considered as strong a
novel as Christ in Concrete.
Second, the sexually vulgar material of This Woman’s prose was too
much for its time and was probably rejected by many of its reviewers. The
following passage is an example of both di Donato’s use of powerful prose, and
his use of sexually explicit material.
It is again a jump for di Donato from third-person omniscient narrator
to first-person in the voice of Isa:
—That devil has taken
everything out of me, legs feel wooden, water in the knees, arms want to fall
off, joints won’t hold together, feel beat-up, came with the kitchen sink. What hit me? Get his number and call the cops. My guts ache, my gadgets hurt—the first orgasm at thirty! The bastard is wonderful, sends me—where’s
he been all my life? The others felt
like finger-jobs, bananas and candles, this boy has the magic key—and that
tongue! Hope ma didn’t see how far up
his teeth marks go. People on the beach
will notice. Fangs like a tiger, eat me
if I let him. One more bout and I’d
give up the ghost. Never seems to tire,
born for it, restless—mad, bad, curious.
Bangs me, comes back in no time—more-more—terrific, got what the doctor
ordered, puts me through the wringer, makes me die happy, sonofabitch with the
stormy eyes (Woman 55).
Although this form of sexually explicit prose may not seem too drastic
today, it certainly was at the time of publication in 1958. These candid passages about his sexual
encounters probably hurt di Donato as an author and This Woman as a
novel. However, on the literary level,
these sexual portions were simply expressed as truthfully and as vulgarly as
they were in action, and as di Donato wanted them to be expressed. He simply wanted to describe the sexual
tensions and desires between Paul and Isa, and he did so with unambiguous
prose.
This style would not be that bad, if it were not accompanied by
violence. Paul is clearly an abusive,
almost sadistic, husband, and yet the reader is expected to sympathize with him
as well as Isa. During sex, Paul often
beats Isa, slapping and punching her in the face and bringing forth blood. The most extreme example of this sexual violence
in This Woman comes near the end of the novel, when Paul becomes so
jealous of Isa’s dead husband that he takes her to his grave, digs him up, and
tramples on him. During this entire
time, he is obsessed with the idea of Isa and Jack in a happy marriage, and his
sexual rage overcomes him:
He clove and splintered the polished coffin. Without pausing he hacked into the veneer and white silk lining,
smashing apart the lid. In the
uncertain darkness he kicked aside the debris from the corpse [. . .].
In the sepulchral shadows he became aware of the dead man’s face between
his feet; the very first instant of Isa’s and [Jack] Tromm’s eyes meeting, the
smiling and agreeing, the possibling and why-the-hell-notting [. . .] and the
oh-ing and ah-ing [. . .] and kissing and smoothing over genitals and the
positioning and first entering and fitting and pushing and pulling and sumping
and squishing eggwhite squirting [. . .].
He slashed the aproned funeral suit from the corpse. The blued-black-white body was revealed;
large, heavy spread, shapeless; the clerk’s hands with spatulate fingernails,
the lardlike nonathletic limbs resembling the snaps of him in bathing trunks on
a beach with Isa; the undersized privates receded (Woman 189-193).
The ruthlessness of the event—Paul digging up Jack’s dead body—combined
with Paul’s sexual jealousies and imaginings of Isa and Jack copulating, come
together to form a passage which not only causes the reader to cringe, but
which can easily be considered revolting, especially for its time. Di Donato can certainly write, and much of
this passage—gruesome or not—works poetically.
The content, however, should not take anything away from its writing style,
and critics of di Donato claim that he did exactly that. In This Woman, di Donato uses the
long, flowing sentences, the stream-of-consciousness, and many different
techniques to convey his desired message.
He wants the reader as involved in This Woman as the characters
themselves are. This is why he refuses
to omit such sexually explicit material.
It would subtract from the truth and emotion the novel contains, and
which in turn led to the unfortunate harsh criticism this novel received.