Correspondingly, the community of San Piedro represses Hatsue, and this influences her behaviour within it. For example, the society is divided by racism, and this is shown first in the way the derogatory term “Jap,” is utilised by the fishermen, and also by the coroner, Horace Whaley. This implies prejudice, tension and hostility on the part of the white American islanders towards the Japanese community, and through characters’ testimonies and embedded narratives, or ‘flashbacks,’ Guterson develops this theme in detail throughout the novel. The setting of the trial is also significant to this, as it occurs over the anniversary of Pearl Harbour, and these historical implications heighten tension within the racially mixed community. The readers learns that people of Japanese descent are expected to sit at the back of the courtroom. Just as Abigail is seen as inferior because she is an orphaned, unmarried woman, the Japanese in San Piedro have an unofficial inferior status, and therefore this subtle segregation is seen as a social necessity. This isolation affects Hatsue, and during her childhood love affair with Ishmael, she is aware and fearful of the controversy that would be caused if her parents, as well as peers at school and wider society, discovered them; in their first visit to the cedar tree, Hatsue acknowledges this by saying “you’re not Japanese. And I’m alone with you.” Hatsue’s secrecy about their meetings is indicative of this social context, and it is a contributing factor towards Hatsue’s growing confusion, which leads to her break-up with Ishmael.
Both the main female characters in these texts become romantically involved at a young age, and this has dramatic consequences for both of them. This is achieved by Guterson in ‘Snow Falling….’ by the use of devices such as embedded narratives, whereas the narrative of ‘The Crucible,’ is more linear. This is important because the structure of the play is influenced by Abigail’s actions, which are conveyed chronologically: Proctor’s rejection of Abigail leads directly to her desire for revenge, which then escalates into the mass hysteria at the climax of the novel, reflecting the powerful influence over Salem she gains during the course of the narrative.
Abigail’s involvement with John Proctor acts as an awakening for her, and she says “John Proctor…took me from my sleep and put knowledge in my heart.” Their affair is the end of her innocence; she is viewed by John Proctor as an object of lust, and exclaims to him “I know how you clutched my back behind your house and sweated like a stallion whenever I come near.” When he terminates their affair she is resentful, as she becomes aware that her role was merely to satisfy his sexual whims. He emphasises his role of dominance by referring to her as “Child.” This provokes her deep jealousy of Elizabeth, as well as a desire for revenge, and is therefore important, as it introduces one of the major themes of the play, revenge and vindication. Proctor’s finishing of their affair, saying “Put it out of your mind,” in response to Abigail is important, as it effectively highlights the moral dilemma which plagues him throughout the play. In this way, Abigail is vital to the exposition of the play, as her turbulent nature arouses the audience’s interest.
After watching a performance of ‘The Crucible,’ one journalist, Betty Caplan of ‘The Guardian,’ wrote about their relationship, and commented “Abigail Williams was, as an orphan, a minor and a servant in the Proctor household, in the position of a daughter and therefore the responsibility of her ‘father.’ John Proctor abused the power that lay in that trust.” Proctor’s betrayal of her trust, and of the “love,” which Abigail claims exists between them, results in Elizabeth’s incarceration when Abby accuses her of witchcraft. This shows a refusal on Abigail’s part to accept fate, and she does not accept John Proctor’s assertion that their affair is over; despite his saying, “I will cut off my hand before I reach for you again,” she is resolute in her belief that, “you loved me, John Proctor, and whatever sin it is, you love me yet!” Instead of enduring the social conventions, Abigail defies them throughout the play, first by dancing in the woods, and “conjuring spirits,” and later by the mass hysteria she causes during the witch-trials.
Parallel to this, Hatsue becomes involved with Ishmael while in her childhood; their relationship begins when Hatsue is ten, when “one day, the boy kissed her. He asked if he might, and she said nothing either way, and then he leaned across the box and put his lips on hers for no more than a second.” The reader learns about this through another of the novel’s ‘flashbacks,’ once again illustrating the importance of the female characters, in the way Hatsue’s impact on Ishmael influences the structure of the text. The romantic involvement between Hatsue and Ishmael, and similarly, Abigail and Proctor, has significant impact on both the lead male characters in these texts, and their decisions are influenced by this, emphasising the female characters’ importance further. For example, in the readers’ first description of Hatsue, it is learnt through Ishmael that “their darkness [of Hatsue’s eyes] would beleaguer his memory of these days.” This is indicative of Hatsue’s lasting impact upon Ishmael and is an early introduction to the significance of women, and their effects on men. ‘The Crucible,’ also displays this, such as when Proctor seeks guidance from Elizabeth; he is willing to do whatever she advises, and is pleading towards her, asking “What say you?” “What would you have me do?” and “Would you ever give them such a lie?” This illustrates Elizabeth’s importance to Proctor, and to the text’s narrative, which is evidenced further throughout the play. For example, at the beginning of Act 2, she plays a lead role in a familiar domestic scene, where she asks Proctor about his day, and he compliments her on the meal. This scene of domesticity and normality before the disruption that follows heightens tension, with the structure conforming to Todorov’s theory of equilibrium.
The relationship between Hatsue and Ishmael continues throughout their adolescence, although it contrasts with Abigail’s relationship with John Proctor, as Ishmael has strong feelings for Hatsue, saying, “from his point of view, at fourteen years old, their love was entirely unavoidable,” whereas John Proctor only sees Abigail as a sexual object. However, similarly to that of Abigail and Proctor, Hatsue and Ishmael’s relationship affects them both dramatically, and has lasting consequences. For example, like Abigail’s disgust for Salem’s hypocrisy, (quotation) the connection between Hatsue and Ishmael leads to Hatsue becoming disenchanted with her cultural heritage, exclaiming to her mother: “I don’t want to be Japanese!” Her perspective is described in the narrative of Chapter 14, where Hatsue’s confusion is illustrated: her mother warns, “don’t allow living among the hajukin to become living intertwined with them. Your soul will decay,” but Hatsue’s viewpoint is given as: “If identity was geography instead of blood-if living in a place was what really mattered-then Ishmael was part of her, inside of her, as much as anything Japanese. It was, she knew, the simplest kind of love...” For them, the cedar tree in which they spend their time, provides a sanctuary from the social conventions and expectations of the time, allowing their relationship to build an intensity in their isolation. It therefore becomes a form of escapism from prejudice and war, which threaten their relationship. This alienation that Hatsue feels from keeping their relationship a secret, mirrored by the symbolism of the hollow, isolated tree, eventually leads to their break-up.
Like Abigail, Hatsue also rejects the idea of accepting fate, although there is an important contrast in the way the main characters display this. Whereas Abigail takes matters into her own hands in ‘The Crucible,’ Hatsue, however, is more passive and expects Ishmael to intervene. It is Abigail who establishes for herself a central role within the community in order to have revenge against Elizabeth. Hatsue in contrast, seeks to exploit Ishmael’s influence to aid her husband. “Put it in your newspaper, about that man’s testimony, how all of it is unfair. How the whole trial is unfair.” In this act, Hatsue shows her submissiveness, drawn from her training by Mrs. Shigemura, which differs from Abigail’s pro-active approach; this contrast is demonstrated by their descriptions in their respective texts. For instance, the first introduction that the reader is given of Hatsue is in the role of “the accused man’s wife,” who feels that her life is “arrested, on hold,” without her husband. Abigail, however, is more dynamic and, as the ringleader of the young girls within Salem, takes a decisive role in determining her own fate. This is shown further by her intimidating and threatening attitude, such as: “I will come to you in the black of some terrible night and I will bring a pointy reckoning that will shudder you. And you know I can do it…. I can make you wish you had never seen the sun go down!”
For both these two main female characters, reputation is very important, and they are both influenced by the way they are viewed within their respective communities. For example, in ‘The Crucible,’ the reader is told through Arthur Miller’s stage directions that Abigail is ‘in a temper,’ when Parris questions her reputation, and an audience watching a performance of the play would see this portrayed through facial expressions, gestures, tone of voice, or other acting devices. Her indignation at this question, as well as her exclamation “My name is good in the village! I will not have it said my name is soiled!” highlights the importance of reputation in this social context, and also indicates to the audience or reader of the play what Abigail’s motives are for her actions; she is furious at Proctors wife, because Elizabeth “comes so rarely to the church this year for she will not sit so close to something soiled.” Abigail labels Elizabeth a “a bitter woman, a lying, cold, snivelling woman,” and a “gossiping liar,” and this suggests she is trying to deflect Parris’ doubts about her own reputation, and illustrates her desire for revenge on Elizabeth, also shown by Betty’s accusation to Abigail, “you drank a charm to kill John Proctor’s wife! You drank a charm to kill Goody Proctor!”
In San Piedro, in ‘Snow Falling On Cedars,’ reputation is not such an issue within the wider community, but for the Japanese community it is paramount. This is documented in the teachings of Mrs. Shigemura and accentuated by Fijiko, and also through the tales of the Samurai warriors, attributed to her husband’s grandfather. Hatsue is anxious of any condemnation, further explained by the social position of owmen in the historical context, and her determination is witnessed by Ishmael in Chapter 12: “Hatsue was a master of the art of false preoccupation; she would pass him in the hallway...and move on with an apparently artless indifference that in beginning painfully astonished him.” She is also aware of how their relationship would be seen by her family, and the disappointment they would feel on knowing that she had rejected “the directive she’d been given as a girl of thirteen to marry a boy of her own kind, a Japanese boy from a good family.”
This illustrates further the way Hatsue is torn between two sets of values, and it “made her unhappy to deceive her world. Her secret life, which she carried around in the presence of her parents and sisters at every moment, made her feel she betrayed them in a way that was nothing less than evil.” Her reputation and the way she is seen by her family is very important to her, and this is shown to be justified when her mother intercepts the letter from Ishmael and Fujiko is described as feeling “a mother’s rage at the weight of this betrayal.” However, although Hatsue is upset about her seperation from Ishmael at first, and is viewed by Fujiko as “more silent and morose than her other daughters,” she admits that “he isn’t the husband for me,” and recognises that “she couldn’t grieve over Ishmael Chambers for the rest of her days.” By doing this, and in her letter to Ishmael where she writes, “now I must say goodbye to you. I am going to move on with my life as best I can, and I hope that you can too,” she resolves her inner conflict between the Japanese and American cultural ideals that are so prevalent in her life. Hatsue’s letter to Ishamel is also illustrative of her importance, as Ishmael, showing again the impact she has had on him, remembers it years later. “The envelope, now brittle with age, felt dry and cold….written on rice paper that after all these years was fast deteriorating, and he held it with the care he felt it deserved.” The language used to describe Ishmael’s actions, “cold,” “brittle,” “deteriorating,” builds up a semantic field of decay, reflecting his emotional state as a result of his previous involvement with Hatsue, highlighting her importance to him, and also to the novel.
This is another contrast between Hatsue and Abigail, as Abigail never achieves a full reconciliation of the two sets of values, which she is so torn between. For example, despite her disgust of Salem’s theocratic society, she still appears regularly in court to make accusations, and John Proctor, whom she had previously idolised as one who “put knowledge in my heart,” later labels her a “whore” in court. The journalist, Betty Caplan of ‘The Guardian,’ said of this in a letter to Arthur Miller, “when the saintly Proctor cries “Whore” upon the young girl in court, I sense no revulsion in you the author, no rage at his terrible duplicity, no desire to let her speak her truth. For you, she has none.” This establishes that there is to be no redemption of Abigail at the climax of the novel; despite the empowerment and attention she gains by accusing members of the village of witchcraft, she never achieves her main motive, which was to have revenge on Elizabeth and to resume her relationship with John Proctor. Instead, she is responsible for many deaths, including Proctor, and she refuses to accept the consequences for her actions and runs away; she is described in Miller’s epilogue, ‘Echoes Down The Corridor,’ that “legend has it that Abigail turned up later as a prostitute in Boston.” Although she has a dramatic impact on the text, and is central to the narrative, she is used by Miller as a symbol of the play’s theme of revenge. Ultimately the morality of both authors ensures that both Hatsue and Abigail inevitably suffer for their treachery, their differing outcomes is determined by the way in which they resolve the hurt that they have inflicted. Although they are both strong female characters, both Hatsue and Abigail conform to traditional stereotypical representations of women, as portrayed by a male author.
The respective climaxes of these texts highlight the many differences between Hatsue and Abigail as well as the lyrical devices used by their creators to portray them, although ultimately there are several points of comparison, and they are both powerful characters who have important roles within their individual texts.
(2,514 words without quotations)
