The Impaired In Raymond Carver's Cathedral

When a person undergoes a profound change in character, he or she must question whether they are embracing a part of themselves that has always existed or whether it is their environment that produces this change in character. When an external event forces a person to act in a way that runs contrary to their common practices, was it the external event that is the sole cause of this change in behavior or is it simply this event tapping into the far reaching annals of a person’s traits? A rudimentary understanding of a protagonist’s characteristics is crucial when reading a story. If those traits lose ground to deeper characteristics, was the reader ever properly familiar with these now dissipating traits, and thus the character in of itself?

The way in which authors create characters whose qualities by the end of the story stand in sharp contrast to the qualities they possessed at the beginning of the story demonstrates the belief that an individual rarely knows another person on a deep level. This is illustrated through the character Norma’s development of avarice in Richard Matheson’s “Button, Button”, through the narrator’s demonstration of bigotry in Raymond Carver’s “Cathedral”, and through the protagonist Connie’s attempt at selflessness in Joyce Carol Oates’s “Where Are You Going? Where Have You Been?”
In “Button, Button,” the introduction into Norma’s life of the possibility of obtaining a fortune prompts her to put aside her moral values and do the unthinkable: kill a human being. Unbeknownst to her, this is the same decision that will kill her husband. When a man identified as Mr. Steward arrives at Norma and her husband Arthur’s doorstep, she is suspicious of the man at first, but when he states that he can offer something to her monetarily, the businesswoman in her jumps at the potential offer and lets him inside. Mr. Steward shows them a key, which he says will open a box that could change their entire lifestyle: “‘If you push the button,’ Mr. Steward told [them], ‘somewhere in the world someone you don't know will die. In return for which you will receive a payment of $50,000’” (Matherson 104). Arthur is revolted by this offer. He rushes Mr. Stewart out of the house immediately, proclaiming “I think you'd better leave” (Matheson 105). Norma has a different reaction. Although she is not immediately in favor of accepting the offer, she deems it one worth considering. These substantially different reactions offer a stark contrast between Norma and her husband's underlying moral values. Norma asks her husband, "Doesn't it intrigue you?" (Matheson 106), and he sharply replies, "It offends me” (Matheson 106). It is clear that Norma’s husband Arthur values human life more than any sum of money, while Norma appears to be warming to the idea that human life could have a number. She appears to see this offer as an opportunity to better their lives. It is “a chance to take that trip to Europe we've always talked about” (Matheson 108). She justifies, both to herself and her husband, her growing desire to push the button and change their way of life. She asks Arthur, and most likely herself as well, even "if you don't even know the person?" (Matheson 108). in an attempt to justify her potential actions. Continuing her self-justification, Norma, after Arthur point blank asks her if she’d like to push the button and essentially murder someone, seems horrified at this insinuation. “Norma looked disgusted. "Murder" (Matheson 108) In Norma’s mind, she is not the stereotypical murderer, rather a person given the opportunity to advance in life. Ultimately, she decides to push the button. She is astonished to find out that her husband has just died in a crash. She calls Mr. Steward in shock, pleading that he promised her that she would not know the person. He replies: “Do you really think you knew your husband?” (Matheson 111). Norma clearly has disparate values than her husband that were not acknowledged in their marriage until this point, and the consequences of this realization have led to her husband’s demise. A greed that remains latent within her throughout the story emerges to overwhelmingly become her defining characteristic. This transformation questions the very fabric of the belief that it is possible to truly know who someone is.
In “Cathedral,” the narrator’s prejudiced views of the disabled gradually dissolve through the positive and profound interactions that he has with the blind man, Robert.

The story begins with the narrator feeling apprehensive and suspicious of his wife’s blind friend visiting their home. He specifically takes issue with the man’s disability. He notes to his wife: "I don't have any blind friends” (Carver 64). His wife, criticizing his lack of experience with other people as a whole, says: "You don't have any friends… Period" (Carver 64). Throughout the story, the author hints that the narrator’s distaste for the disabled comes less from experience and more from ignorance. He explains: “My idea of blindness came from the movies” (Carver 61). The narrator clearly has had little to no interaction with the disabled and thus has had his views on them shaped through the culture surrounding him. He looks at the blind not as human beings who happen to have lost their sight, but rather as vulnerable dependents who are overly reliant on society. As the narrator has intimate conversation with Robert, however, he begins to be more open in his interaction with the blind man. Citing the late time, the narrator offers to make up a bed for Robert. Robert turns down the offer in favor of spending more with the narrator. Instead of becoming irritated as one may expect, the narrator looks forward to their future conversations. He mentions to Robert that he is “… glad for the company" (Carver

71). This moment is the beginning of a transformation in the narrator’s understanding of the disabled. As the two characters’ conversation becomes deeper and more intimate, Robert asks the husband to describe a cathedral to him. The husband struggles to describe one, so the blind man suggests that he close his eyes and control Robert’s hand to draw one. This moment brings their relationship to a new level and signals the husband’s understanding of the blind. When Robert finally says that he can open his eyes again, the husband decides to continue with the experience. He thinks to himself: “But I had my eyes closed. [And] I thought I’d keep them that way for a little longer. I thought it was something I ought to do” (Carver 76). The husband’s perspective on the disabled makes a distinct turnaround, changing from mistrust and disdain to empathy and understanding. While it is presumptuous to claim that the narrator’s negative feelings about the blind have completely diminished, it is fair to say that he has developed a significant and profound understanding of their disability. The question remains whether the narrator’s sudden ability to feel compassion for the blind was there all along or is it something that has developed solely because of this experience.
In “Where Are You Going?

Where Have You Been?”, Connie’s self-absorbed and narcissistic behavior is abandoned when she is faced with a life-threatening decision that could determine the safety of her family. Connie starts as a self-absorbed and acutely superficial teenage girl who does her best to portray only her most positive characteristics to the world. In actuality, she has a dysfunctional home, her mother is constantly comparing Connie to her worse-looking but more well-kept sister, and she has virtually no relationship with her father. These are all signs of a severely dysfunctional family. In the narrator's words: “Everything about her had two sides to it, one for home and one for anywhere that was not home” (Oates 320). In Connie’s mind, perceived perfection is of the utmost importance, and she leaves all of her grievances behind in social interactions. Specifically, her beauty is what she values most about herself,. Connie believes that “ … she was pretty and that was everything” (Oates 331) It is clear that Connie views things from a very shallow perspective, failing to understand the greater attributes that a person may have. However, when faced with a life-altering threat, Connie’s values abruptly change. When Arnold, a man who claims to be Connie’s age and is later hinted at to be a sexual predator, arrives at her door, Connie begins to understand the now higher stakes at hand and the values she must embrace. When Connie feels threatened and claims that her

father will be coming home soon, Arnold replies knowingly: “He ain’t coming. He’s at a barbeque” (Oates 327). Connie is disturbed that Arnold Knows Where her family is; now not only does she fear for her own safety but that of her family’s. As the tension and perceived danger build, Connie runs in the house to call the police Instead of calling, she decides to protect her family from the harm Arnold may bring to them. She is visibly upset, and “She cried out, she cried for her mother… ” (Oates 331). Despite her misgivings about her family, in her final moments Connie thinks back to them. This ability to recognize the important values in life unfortunately comes all too late for Connie. She evolves from a beauty-obsessed narcissist to someone who truly has her priorities intact. This dramatic shift in values calls into question whether that degree of selflessness and maturity was ever latent within Connie or was it simply the life threatening situation she was put in that caused her to change character so drastically