Thunder Road (More than Survival)
A look at Water for Elephants
I’m gonna take a minute to share my thoughts after finishing Water for Elephants. Because if we don’t write em down, well, they will be lost forever, right?
Like many depression era art forms, one of the big themes to Water for Elephants was survival, and more specifically, the need for something more beyond survival. It touches on the fact that we can all live our lives day-to-day, but deep down, existence simply doesn’t cut it. There is a need for more. For passion, for interest, for love, for food that is better than bland mush served at an elderly cafeteria. For a reason to sing when we feel caged like a bird.
Oh there are more themes in the book: reality vs. fantasy, a personal sense of morality, guilt and absolution, and of course the reliability of memory because, as we all know, elephants never forget. But it’s the survival aspect that sticks with me today. And, I suppose, memory, cus that one’s gonna get us all, in the end.
The setting was a circus, and it contained pretty much everything you might imagine that goes with it. Fat ladies, burlesque dancers (and their after-show professions), charismatic and tyrannical big-boss personalities, alcohol, a midget with a heart of gold, class divides, and a menagerie of wild animals, including an elephant who only understands Polish and is always on the lookout for lemonade (or gin) because water will sustain you, but the possibility of more will drive us to greater lengths than we could possibly imagine.
I guess I’m not really here to tell you about the book much. Other than the fact that, first, it was a good read, second I felt it was well orchestrated and refreshingly intentional with its images. For me, when I realize that the author is being intentional with imagery, I’m all the more drawn in, and willing to trust him or her. In Water for Elephants it came kind of late in the game, but I still felt like an insider when I caught it.
The female protagonist’s name was Marlena. But about three quarters of the way in her maiden name is revealed as L’Arche. I have a bit of history with a little French community called L’Arche, so I knew that the name meant “The Ark.” As in a bunch of animals being saved from the flood.
Significant, I thought. But none of the other names particularly stood out to me. Well except for Jacob. If I was writing a story about a circus in the depression, you can bet I’d be scouring the OT for cool-sounding, prophetic/magical names. So I called on my time spent as a Sunday school student as I thought about Jacob, and surprisingly, I had some clear recollections. I brought to mind flannel-board, doe-eyed, and white-faced Jacobs herding sheep. Living in limbo, wrestling with god, stealing birthrights, climbing ladders. Oh, and didn’t he have an Uncle that made him stick around for a few years? “Uncle Al” in the book was the owner of the circus that had Jacob waiting for his Marlena, who rightfully belonged to someone else. (Literary point: Jacob in the OT had Uncle LAben who made him stick around and work with animals for a bunch of years. And Jacob of WFE “stole” something that belonged to another.)
Okay maybe this is getting dull, but all of this is to say, it was worth the read for me. There also happens to be an Esau character here, but I’m not too willing to get too theological and make the mistake of reading way too far in.
What’s important to me is that Water for Elephants was a win. It was for two reasons: it was a good and interesting story, and the author crafted the story into something more with symbols and structure to give it a deeper resilience.
And regarding the theme …on the backside of the book I ask myself: am I settling for existence? Where am I existing when I should be reaching out for more?
Do I settle for water when, at the end of my life, my memories will deceive me to think it was more?
We need to live beyond our daily existence. We need to take small steps toward our passions on a daily basis. We need to take drastic steps, to ensure that life is more than water. And at the end of life, we will remember that we truly lived.
And sometimes, I think we need to join the circus.
