“Sleepless Nights” Blog 2

In describing the aspects of form, Burke claims that a well-written work will “lead a reader to anticipate another part, to be gratified by the sequence”. Elizabeth Hardwick’s Sleepless Nights, however, does not contain a plot. Its sequence is neither concrete nor chronological. However, this does not mean that a sequence cannot be anticipated by a reader. Sleepless Nights does not mimic the style of any work of narrative I have previously encountered, and thus subverts generic expectations directly through its structure.

This narrative plays out through a seemingly unrelated stream of memories, letters, and recollections from the narrator, each existing independently from one another. To the reader, these scenes will feel out of place and unrelated. And because of its lack of plot, determining the logical progression of the narrator’s thoughts is a task that proves to be daunting. Where Sinclair described his changing attitudes toward life openly and through his experiences in Demian, the reader in Sleepless Nights is forced to piece together the events of the narrator’s life, and how the thoughts and feelings conveyed have been influenced by these events.

In this book, conventions are widely thrown out the window. While characters and settings do exist in the book, these characters do not actively “do” anything to break generic conventions. Rather, these characters and events are witnessed through snippets of memories, which mirror the narrator’s stream of consciousness. These examples range from childhood memories of growing up around horse racing in Kentucky, to recollections of friends who have died – many below the age of twenty five. Through these memories, both good and bad, Hardwick strives to better understand herself. This poses a challenge to the reader, who must accept that this book is much less a story being told directly to them, and much more an act in understanding a human being through the information she divulges.

The matter in which Hardwick leaps from idea to idea, feeling to feeling, directly mimics her tendency to hop around from place to place in life. It is in this first example that a reader in tune with the messages conveyed by the book will  be better able to understand the narrator’s disposition and tendencies through structure. Additionally, paying closer attention to the way the narrator dwells on or develops certain ideas or memories, while barely passing over others, sheds light on the importance a particular memory or feeling has for the narrator. In particular, Hardwick spends a large chunk of part three of the book describing her relationship with a gay roommate know only as “J.”. Though J. had died years earlier in a car accident, the narrator reminisces about his habits, claiming

“worst of all, J. had an unyielding need to brush his perfect teeth after dinner in the evening. This odd harness of habit held him in a vicious embrace and finally meant that no fortuitous invitation, no beguiling possibility arising unannounced could be accepted without a concentrated uneasiness of the mind”

Because J. has long since perished, the reader must come to understand that the narrator’s criticism is not of J., but rather of herself. This trait, first exposed to her by J., has left a lasting mark and continues to influence the way she views herself and others, and stands to impact her further recollections as the book progresses.

It is through these such examples that a reader will be able to grasp the broader scope of a written work, and the underlying mechanisms in place. By remaining open and receptive to the messages of the book, as well as to the written conventions being challenged, a reader will be able to construct a sense of continuity through the juxtaposition of independent thoughts, rather than constructing continuity through concrete plot points and character actions.