In the short story, "French Joe", W. Somerset Maugham writes about a soldier who joins the French army against the Russians in the 1800s, and survives a great many wars, even battling adversity in the process. He represents a kind of typical war hero, as we are entreated to the description, "He showed me a scar on his bald pate from an Uhlan's lance and then with a dramatic gesture told how he had thrust his sword in the Uhlan's body with such violence that he could not withdraw it." (p.45). Yet, no sooner does this description arise do we read that "the Empire perished and he joined the communists". (ibid) Our hero journeys through many misfortunes, many battles, until he reaches a ripe old age. When the narrator remarks that he must have lived a fine life, Joe remarks, "I have had a frightful life. Misfortune has followed me wherever I turned my steps" (p.47) What seems like a heroic quest turns out to be suffering for Joe.
Maugham's story, for me, represents the stark contrast between the 'exploits' of war that is often historically depicted, and the realities of hardship and suffering that really unfold for the central character. It also represents the transient, unreal nature of war: as sides switch, so do Joe's allegiances. I see a character trying to survive between conflicting sides. In the end, Joe expresses a wish to die, only to add that he would be grateful for a pack of cigarettes. The story for me is a commentary on how life itself can become disposable under the ravages of imprisonment, war, sickness and ageing.
As I read this story, my contemplation was around the way really felt experiences are often sacrificed for the image of what they are presumably supposed to look and feel like. For example, a person might show a scar to represent what had been inflicted upon them years ago, and yet forget how the pain really felt in that moment. Rather than directly recalling or apprehending how the pain truly felt, the scar becomes a symbol for strength or courage. Yet, in the process, the suffering itself often becomes muted or even denied. Death itself becomes transmuted into a national ideal: to kill or to die for glory becomes an idealized life, with little regard for the suffering it entails for all beings. Joe becomes a kind of anti-hero in the story, because he refuses to buy into the notion of heroic struggle as a fine life. He sees only the misfortune that has befallen him from one battle to the next. But the story could very well have played out differently, with Joe buying into the notion of what a 'full' life is supposed to be.
I sometimes wonder to what extent human identities are often constructed from images more than feelings. In our walking meditation practice, we often instruct, "don't think about the body, directly experience it". Why is this instruction so important? I think that for myself, it takes me to a space where I am really with my feet, rather than thinking of something else. And I can feel my body rather than just picturing what my body looks like, what it is, or where it belongs. A very simple gesture like this can take a person to an acknowledgement of something beyond language and abstract ideas. It also creates a space where I am able to see that I am not my ideas, or in some thought arising there.
Maugham, W. Somerset, "French Joe", from Volume Four Collected Short Stories. London: Pan Books
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