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We’ve all encountered it. The hustling and bustling, the streets and avenues filled with the cacophonous symphonies, and the city nearly busting at the seams with people. You stand there on the sidewalk filled with awe and taking it all in while your sides are being assaulted by the passers-by and their elbows. Sometimes it seems quite hopeless to make someone notice you and send a smile your way, because while you acknowledge people they don’t acknowledge you. They’ve all grown accustomed to the oblivion that comes with big city life, or rather the feigned state of oblivion.
We may all get drawn to it thanks to numerous movies and TV series romanticising it, but in fact adjusting to the big city, where things are getting lively, is somewhat of an acquired taste. This is some of the things that Siri Hustvedt emphasises in the essay “Living With Strangers”.
Siri Hustvedt begins her essay with writing about the “culture shock” she is met by when she first moves to New York City. In her hometown in rural Minnesota it was a custom to greet everyone that you walked past even if you didn’t know the person. The most important part of the greeting when passing by someone was to actually speak the word “hi”. “When I moved to New York City in 1978, I quickly discovered what it meant to live among hordes of strangers and how impractical and unsound it would be to greet all of them.” (p. 1, l. 6-8). You will quickly realise that you need to adapt to the new environment and follow the rules that people in the vicinity live by. Another thing that Siri Hustvedt emphasises is a law that she learns is the way to get through the hell that is public transportation in New York City. “The simple law, one nearly every New Yorker subscribes to whenever possible, is: PRETEND IT ISN’T HAPPENING.” (l.19-20). She explains that is it more or less the best coping mechanism to get through the day – or just through the endless minutes on the subway train or the bus. The ‘pretend-it-isn’t-happening’-law widely applies to so-called weirdoes who make a scene – mostly it’s on purpose, because they couldn’t care less or are seeking the attention of others, but sometimes it’s by chance. But it is mostly on purpose.
Siri Hustvedt lists a few scenarios where she describes the oddity of these misplaced situations in the daily life of the urbanites. First she tells us about her Iranian friend who sees a woman who’s wearing nothing but a “flimsy bathrobe”. “My friend had been staring at the woman throughout the scene but was a little ashamed when he understood that he was alone. Nobody else had given the woman a first glance, much less a second.” (l.28-30). With this example Siri Hustvedt is trying to give the reader an impression of how it may seem to newcomers that things like this is lost on hardened urbanites like the New Yorkers. Furthermore she lists two more examples in order to drive the point home. The one thing that the three examples/scenarios have in common is that each of the individuals in question exhibits outrageous behaviour. The third example she gives us is about her and her husband who decide to sit down on a bench, and at the end of said bench there’s man who according to Siri Hustvedt “gave off an aura of silent hostility”. The situation ends with the hostile man spitting in Siri Hustvedt’s direction. Siri Hustvedt tells us that her husband would have felt compelled to act if there had been more saliva on Siri Hustvedt’s pant leg. “And acting, as everyone in the city knows, can be dangerous. It is usually better to treat the unpredictable among us as ghosts, wandering phantoms who play out their lonely narratives for an audience that appears to be deaf, dumb, and blind.” (p. 2, l.49-52)
“For the last year and a half, my fifteen-year-old daughter has been refining the frozen, blank expression that accompanies the Pretend Law (…) Walkman securely over her ears, she feigns deafness when the inevitable stray character comes along and tries a pickup” (p. 2, l.76-81). Living in this day and age it has become much more easier to block out any background noise and isolate yourself in your own little bubble while people are invading your personal space on the subway or bus in the rush hour. Siri Hustvedt tells us about her own experience with her daughter. She explains her daughter’s tactics and they have become a widespread practice. Since 2002 when Siri Hustvedt had her essay published in The New York Times we have many ways of shutting out our surroundings. Fancy mobile phones with mp3-players and internet have made things much easier for ‘the ignorers’ and ‘the ignorees’ have to think of new ways to do something out of line and scandalous.
Siri Hustvedt tells us about an experience that her daughter Sophie had while riding on the subway. “(…) “a white guy in his thirties” who started at her so shamelessly that she felt uncomfortable.” (p. 3, l. 82-83) and “(…) the ogler threw himself against the window in front of her and began to pound on the glass. “I love you!” he yelled. “I love you! You’re the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen in my life!” Deeply embarrassed, Sophie didn’t move.” (l. 85-87). These two quotes combined give us a very good impression of the situation and as the reader you are able to put yourself in the 15-year-old’s shoes. The situation is probably every bit excruciating as it sounds. You have no idea what to do or say or if you even say anything about it. And as Siri Hustvedt mentions sometimes acting can be outright dangerous. While Siri Hustvedt’s daughter Sophie is embarrassed and unable to move, the man next to her breaks the code by acknowledging the incident and by this simple but human gesture he makes Sophie feel much better and helps her deal with the unwanted attention.
In the last portion of her essay, Siri Hustvedt writes about the reality behind the professed ignorance there’s actually a lot of awareness and that sometimes it is necessary to save the energy for things that are much more important. “To live in strict accordance to the Pretend Law all the time would be unbearably dull. For us urbanites, both for the born and bred and for converts like me, there is a delight that comes from thinking on our feet, from sizing up situations and making the decision to act or not to act. Most of the time, we insulate ourselves out of necessity, but every once in a while we break through to one another and discover unexpected depths of intelligence or heart or just plain sweetness. And whenever that happens, I am reminded of a truth: Everyone has an inner life that is as large and complex and rich as my own.” (l. 104-111). This excerpt from the essay pretty much sums up Siri Hustvedt’s intention with the essay. She wanted to discuss the ignorance that people put on and take off like a mask and gives the reader a great impression of how it really is. Like the introduction of this very essay says we have all seen the “Pretend Law” in action. Sometimes we like it because it fits the situation and then sometimes there are incidents when the “Pretend Law” isn’t applicable – or at least it doesn’t seem like the right thing to do.
Living With Strangers leaves an impression and gives the reader something to think about. It’s a development that the human race first encountered when it moved away from the small, cosy, insulated societies in the countryside to the bigger cities. The industrial revolution may have been very good for the economy and for being productive, but for the humans and their interpersonal relations have suffered very dearly at the cost of the industrialisation. Maybe we will find a way either by learning how to deal with these incidents or help or guide the people who feel the need to act out in order to attract some kind of attention. Because some kind of attention is better than none, right?