A Mixed Box of Chocolates:
A Practical Guide to Literary Criticism and Teaching The
Chocolate War
Part
I: Overview and Structure
Of all the novels I have had the
opportunity to teach, The Chocolate War by Robert Cormier has certainly
proven the most controversial. Morally
dark and painfully frank, it has been challenged by everyone from
administrators to teachers, parents to the students themselves. Indeed, I have had to defend it in one way
or another each year I have taught it, and each year, it stands up to the
scrutiny of even the most conservative criticism. The reasons? Cormier’s The
Chocolate War is so well crafted, so powerful in theme, so faithful to the
truth, so close to our souls that it simply cannot be denied a place in a contemporary
classroom.
With that in mind, this project is a
sort of annotated lesson guide for using a variety of modern literary critical
theories to teach The Chocolate War in a freshman classroom. Specifically, I found that the book (as
well as our curriculum) most strongly suggests the use of Rhetorical
Analysis and Deconstruction to demonstrate the scope and depth of thought that
this book can both inspire and hone, though as I will conclude, there are
others which would easily work just as well.
So that this project can serve as a useful guide for teaching the book,
I should probably clarify a few techniques I will use to develop it. First, I see any of the literary theories as
only useful in a freshman classroom in terms of reader response (In fact, I
would argue that all of the critical theories are reader response by necessity
since a reader applies them, no matter how objective that reader/critic claims
to be.) because teaching must connect with students, must begin with their
scaffolding. On the other hand, there
is currently excessive pressure on English teachers to teach the basics of
literary techniques and vocabulary. To
account for both a reader-response philosophy and a literary skill based
curriculum, I will use some theory that is seemingly centered on the author but
I will always lean back to the reader and her response. Second, I will frequently present questions
to be asked of the students; some of them are quite frankly a bit less
reader-response oriented than the preceding statement would assert. This is because I am building the critical
point of view into the questions for purposes of brevity (it works much better
than question-answer) and practical usefulness to a teacher. Certainly, exploration of these critical
theories can be accomplished in a multitude of other ways and with far less
suggestive questioning. Third, the
student attitudes and general responses I refer to throughout the paper are
culled from interviews and class work with actual freshman students at Hilliard
Davidson High School. Finally, every
method I discuss here is based upon having the students read the entire novel
at least once before attempting the criticisms.
Part
II: Synopsis and An Assumption
Robert Cormier’s The Chocolate
War is the story of Jerry Renault, a freshman at a private boy’s school in
the early 1970’s. Still recovering from
the death of his mother and disillusioned by his father’s seemingly mechanical
life, Jerry’s internal struggle to find his identity and some meaning in the
world is brought to a crisis when he is challenged to participate in an act of
civil disobedience by an underground organization of students, led by Archie
Costello, called the Vigils. Jerry’s
task was to refuse selling chocolates for the school for a period of time and
then accept the chocolates when that period had ended. However, for reasons unknown to even Jerry
himself, he continues to refuse the chocolates after his task is complete,
thereby defying not only the school but also Archie and the Vigils. As a result, Jerry is lead down a road of
rejection and harassment, culminating in a horrible public beating and a
sobering realization that non-conformity and establishing self-identity can be
painful.
In my instructional approach
to this book, I do make an assumption as a base: the principal theme is rooted
in the pain of establishing self-identity and the possible futility of doing so
in contrast to one’s social setting.
I make this bias known to my class immediately after they have begun to
formulate their takes on the book so that they understand the context in which
I might comment on the book and so that I can model for them the processes of
criticism and response without them taking my word as definitive. For purposes of this project, it is
important to note that my instruction is based on that theme so that you might
understand any perceived bias in my selected approaches.
Part
III: Rhetorical Analysis: Authorial Intent and Reader Response
Though I surely have included
elements of other types of critical theory, Rhetorical Analysis has
clearly been the dominant approach in all my teachings of The Chocolate War
-- mostly because it was how I was trained, somewhat because it so easily lends
itself to that sort of criticism.
Indeed, I think I first fell in love with the book as a teacher because
it was so well crafted, reflecting powerful use of literary technique and by
extension, great intent on the part of the author. In fact, Cormier himself says, “The story comes first. If it doesn’t succeed as a story, no one is
ever going to get to the theme” (qtd. in Sutton 30). I take this to mean that the story -- its characters, its
conflicts, its climax -- is the driving force behind the theme, so our students
need to understand intent of Cormier’s techniques in crafting the story in
order to form a justifiable and intelligent idea of his theme.
The first techniques I suggest
exploring in The Chocolate War are the role of the narrator and the
structure of the narrative itself. This narrator is third person omniscient and
though he does make some independent commentary on the characters, he more
heavily depends on creating our impressions of the characters as seen through
the other characters’ perceptions. This
is easy enough to illustrate early in the book as the narrator introduces us to
Archie through the eyes of Obie, one of Archie’s underlings: “Most of all, he
[Obie] was tired of Archie. Archie the
bastard. The bastard that Obie alternately hated and admired” (Cormier,
11). We can see this again in the very
next chapter when Jerry is revealed to us (and to himself in some ways) through
the eyes of a hippie:
You know who is sub-human, man? You. You are. Going to school everyday. And back home on the bus. And do your homework.” The guy’s voice was contemptuous. “Square boy.Middle-aged at fourteen, fifteen. already caught in a routine. Wow. (20)
At this point, it is important to
ask the students why they think Cormier does this, why he allows us to get know
the characters by a sort of “proxy“ or filter through each character‘s
surrounding characters. Answers by
necessity of reader response will inevitably vary, but a pattern usually
emerges that points to the idea that the book is about identity (just exploring
the previous example leads to the idea of Jerry’s identity in terms of how he
is seen and how he sees himself) and that identity takes place in terms of the
greater society in which a person exists anyway. Inevitably, we are only ourselves in relation to others -- whom
we want to be like, be with, be apart from.
With that established, Cormier’s technique of “omniscient
narrator-by-proxy” makes sense if readers are to understand first, why Jerry is
so driven to define himself as distinct from others like his father or the
Vigils and second, what Cormier might be asserting as an overall theme.
Closely related to this idea of
narrator-by-proxy is the structure of the narrative itself and the emphasis on
individual characters it creates.
Though the story is relatively linear in terms of timeline of events,
its presentation is largely through chapters that skip back and forth by
character, relying more heavily on character development and separate episodes
in its structure than flowing plot events.
This idea will present itself to the class without any prompting because
one of the first difficulties the students will verbalize about the book is
that they have a hard time reading it, complaining that it “skips around too
much,” or “moves around from one character to another so much that I had a hard
time reading it.” With this teachable
moment at hand, I simply ask them what effect does having the chapters move
from character episode to character episode have on their impression of the
book (or the book’s theme if you want to guide a bit more) beyond just making
it hard to read. It won’t take long to
come to some consensus on the idea that Cormier is clearly concentrating on
individual personalities and reactions within the context of whole culture of
the book -- an idea that, once again, allows us to conjecture that it is likely
he wants us to think hard about how each person defines himself or is defined
by others.
As the study of The Chocolate War
develops, other techniques will emerge as noteworthy to students, all of which
can be interpreted in terms of rhetorical use and author intent. The first of these, figurative language such
as metaphor and symbol, is used powerfully throughout, presenting itself in the
title and in the first sentence of the novel: The Chocolate War
(bold used for emphasis) and “They murdered him” (7). With the first, we discuss the idea of a war and why
Cormier chose to call it that.
Specifically, we discuss the various connotations of a war and how we
might account for those connotations within the context of the book as a whole
and what might be intended: What do you think of when you think of war? What are the components of a war? If it is a war, how do we determine a
winner? What is the role of the
individual in a war, especially in terms of a soldier’s (to extend the
metaphor myself) role? Similarly, we
can discuss the first line and its use of murder: What does murder
mean? What moral implications does it
have? What sort of foreshadowing does
it provide? How does that foreshadowing
affect our attitude toward what we read from page one on? What can we say about the relationship
implied in the phrase, “They murdered him” (be
careful to let them find the plural to singular relationship themselves)? After that, or perhaps as a reaction to some
other metaphor or symbol or even motif a student has discovered in the book,
the religious, sexual, and violent metaphors and events open themselves up
naturally to a rhetorical discussion.
Of course, no rhetorical analysis to
The Chocolate War can be complete without paying proper attention to the
central allusion to T.S. Eliot’s The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock:
“Do I Dare Disturb the Universe?”
Whatever it presents itself in the classroom as -- whether interpreted
as a conscious reminder to Jerry of what’s at stake, a subconscious
inspirational guide for him, a call to action for everyone -- it certainly
emerges as a focal point for discussing authorial intent and reader
response. I always go to Eliot’s poem
itself and explore the ideas that Cormier very likely had read the poem, and it
had enough significance to him for the allusion to be made in his book. We discuss our interpretations of the poem
itself and how those interpretations may color how we view Cormier’s inclusion
of the phrase as a central image (it is on a poster in Jerry’s locker) in the
book. We even discuss whether we think
it is actually central to the theme and if our assumption that it is says
anything about us as critical readers in addition to what it might say about
Cormier’s intent.
Overall, a rhetorical approach to The
Chocolate War reveals its masterful artisanship and invites the students to
consider the role of the author as creator of meaning. Indeed, the analysis of Cormier’s technique
and possible motives presented here examines only the main with so many others
like setting, internal and external conflict, individual characterizations, the
use of language, slang, and profanity, etc. begging for treatment. I suggest letting the students be the guides
-- after a short exposure to the idea of author intent, they will find all that
the book has to offer.
Part
IV. Building on Author Intent:
Deconstructing The Chocolate War
Now that I have been exposed to the
idea, Deconstruction as a corollary to Rhetorical Analysis in studying The
Chocolate War seems a wonderfully logical and creative way to dislodge some
of the overgeneralization that mastery-oriented or teacher-centered students
may have in studying the book, particularly if this is their first go around
with critical method. I often find that
these students -- by these I mean those who will latch on to whatever
the teacher says the author means for whatever reason (though I suspect they
have been trained that way!) -- become locked into an author driven
point of view once rhetorical criticism has been established, many times to the
exclusion of their own, real reactions to the book. (Perhaps this begs the question of whether it might be better to
start off with a more reader-centered criticism?) My approach, then, would be to knock my students off balance by
exploring a deconstructive look at the very same concepts and techniques found
in the rhetorical view, this time considering the possible effects and intents
in that very different light. I do not
think it would matter whether this was done by performing each analysis as a
separate whole or as possible readings of each technique as they present
themselves. This would vary according
to class personality and ability, maybe even according to individual need. In any case, the notion of the ambiguity in
language and theme that deconstruction implies must surely be presented at some
point lest the students become married to the idea of a singular, correct
version of author intent and meaning or even disengage from reading because they
feel they cannot get the correct answer. We must tread lightly though or run the risk of simply confusing
these students further.
The first element of The
Chocolate War I would juxtapose in terms of rhetorical and deconstructive
criticisms would be the theme itself because I routinely place the theme at the
center of why we read literature.
Having already established a theme ostensibly created by the author, it
makes sense to simply consider what would happen if the author didn’t mean what
we think he meant at all. Ask the
students: What if it doesn’t mean this at all?
What if we were meant to see the other connotations of his language and
story, the ones we discarded or ignored as we saw everything adding up to the
theme -- a theme that maybe I lead you to?
Essentially, what if you or I are just plain wrong? Or, maybe Cormier even wants us to read it
two different ways.
At this point, I expect responses of
two types: one will include just variations on the original theme of the pain
and difficulty of achieving an identity; the other will encompass a whole range
of thematic statements. Some of these
will be clever and will lend themselves to deconstruction, but it is essential
not to follow these too quickly. It
would be better to explore some of the less tenable propositions first so that
the students can see that other interpretations are not random but must somehow
be rooted somewhere in the text. Having
argued away those that don’t work, move to those that could. I would even go so far as to quote Cormier
as he asserted what he himself saw as the theme of his book, a theme that will
surely meet with some howls as they find out the theme we had spent so long to
validate as the intended one of the author is, in fact, quite different from what
he says it is: “. . . I
was kind of surprised at the initial controversy about The Chocolate War,
because to me there was the implicit lesson.
It was obvious to me that we all lose when the good guys don’t do
anything” (qtd. in Sutton 29). Further,
I would combine this with his additional observation about criticism itself:
“The best kind of criticism is the kind that illuminates your own work for
you. And sometimes it amazes me how
I’ll read a critical essay . . . (and) it’s often illuminating” (qtd. in Sutton
30). This creates an opportunity to
show the students that even the author is open to other interpretations of his
own work and therefore their own takes on a book are valid and worthwhile.
Next, no matter what themes the
students generate -- they range from issues of power to intimidation and group
psychology -- we can return to the principal techniques found in the rhetorical
approach for comparative deconstruction.
One of the first to revisit would be the title. Beginning with the connotations of war we
established before, we move on to the other possible meanings: Is this really a
war? Are there really two armies or two
forces? Is it really simply a matter of
good guys versus the bad guys? Does it
seem one sided? Can you have a war over
chocolates? Could Cormier, rather than
asserting this battle as true war, be saying that it really is a trivial
matter? Or maybe is he saying that all
war is trivial? All of these questions
lead the students to reconsider, or deconstruct, the title, perhaps even doing
it in such a way that they begin to support a deconstructed theme.
One by one, we can now proceed with
the other reconstructions of technique, language, and meaning. The first line, “They murdered him,” comes
under scrutiny: Yes, it is a metaphor, but as such, it really isn’t what it
says. Was it really a murder? Could you consider that an
exaggeration? What about the fact that
Jerry forces much of the action? Maybe
it’s really a suicide; after all, he could have responded in many different
ways. He chose his path, didn’t
he? Further, we can think about the way
the narration is handled. We said it
was done that way to highlight the individual, but is it possible that he did
this to show a great variety of reactions to the situations, to show that there
were other identities and stands that Jerry could have taken? What about the poster in Jerry’s locker:
what if it isn’t to be read as a suggestive inspiration about identity? What if it’s really a warning? Or do you think it is a rhetorical question,
a question that isn’t supposed to be answered -- not a call to action but food
for thought?
Like the analysis I presented in my
rhetorical approach, the possibilities for deconstruction extend well beyond
what I have already examined. Such
potential deconstructions include considering Jerry’s final (intended) words of
advice to Goober after his brutal confrontation in the ring with Archie: “Don’t
disturb the universe, Goober, no matter what the posters say” (187). Does he mean that? Isn’t how we interpret that central to how we view the entire
novel? What is the point of telling
Goober, a person who clearly had already decided for himself not to “disturb
the universe?” Another element might be
to work carefully with the religious motifs of the book that alternately imply
a vision of Jerry (or all individuals) in terms of a Christ figure, “The
shadows of the goal posts definitely resembled a network of crosses, empty
crucifixes” (17), or a coward:
. . . because he was a coward about stuff like that,
thinking one thing and saying another, planning one thing and doing another --
he had been Peter a thousand times and a thousand cocks had crowed in his
lifetime. (8)
Is
Cormier moralizing here? Commenting on
what good and/or bad people might do?
Might think? Is he suggesting
something about the difficulties of faith?
Or the futility of it? Or, the
truth of it?
In sum, a deconstruction of The
Chocolate War will certainly lead to as many different readings as the
students are willing to assert and explore.
And, the lessons learned will give the students a sense of playfulness
towards criticism -- a feeling that because language is so flexible, they are
allowed to intelligently manipulate what it means to them even when some
allegedly intended theme is the focus.
Looking back over what I have presented in this lesson guide, I realize
that Robert Cormier’s The Chocolate War is not the focus of my ideas at
all; rather, my real focus is on the criticism and the introduction of critical
process to students. I find this
comforting because it reaffirms that the reader and the process supercede the book
itself, both in philosophy and in practice.
Granting that as true, other criticisms suggest themselves as useful
depending on the whole or individual needs or tastes of the class. A New Historical view could be used in
considering the context of The Chocolate War, published in 1974, in
terms of the ending of the Vietnam War as well as the social revolutions and
redefined attitudes about individual rights that had taken place by or in that
time. Similarly, a Cultural criticism
could be applied if a consideration of the undertones of a private, all male,
largely white school culture were deemed a worthy focus. Indeed, this approach would be powerfully
relevant if reader resistance were encountered regarding the workings of the
school and the underground organizations and cruelties that came with it. As a corollary to that, a Feminist take
makes sense in terms of how female (or even male) students might resist the
book or in the best of scenarios, create an entirely different interpretation
of it. Finally, a Psychological
approach also makes perfect sense, especially a Lacanian look that would
require students to process their own reactions to the book -- their response
to Jerry, his father, his deceased mother, Brother Leon -- and what those
reactions can tell them about themselves (though a Freudian analysis of Cormier
certainly screams for attention as well if the students are ready to make that
leap!).
The point is that each of these
critical lenses sheds a different light on The Chocolate War, each of
which is clearly useful to the student as a reader and more importantly, as a
thinker. In applying any or all of
these methods, we also find that we create a built in defense of the book,
asserting it as valuable because of its impeccable construction, because of its
openness to interpretation, because of its controversy, because of its harsh
realism, because of its appeal to our own psychologies, sociologies, and
cultures. Indeed, the very reasons that
bring the book into question as useful in our classrooms serve to justify its
use: The Chocolate War works best because of its challenges.
Works Cited
Cormier,
Robert. (1974). The Chocolate War. New York: Dell Publishing.
Sutton, Roger. (June, 1991). “A Conversation with Robert Cormier, ‘Kind of a Funny Dichotomy’.” School Library Journal, 28-33.