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“Explore and illustrate how Forster makes use of the ‘echo image’ in the novel.”

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Ben Volchok 12K

All references to E.M Forster's A Passage to India are from the 2005 Penguin Classics edition.

History of the echo as a literary symbol

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The echo has appeared in many cultural legends and religions throughout history. In the Mayan culture, the echo was associated with their god of the underworld, and thus mostly used in conjunction with mountains and wild animals. The Ancient Greeks had two legend of the nymph Echo, who in one was refused love by Narcissus, and so, completely torn apart, she “sought refuge in caves and forests and, in the end, was changed into a rock which repeated every sound.[1] In the second, she was used by Zeus to talk to his wife Hera, and distract her while he was having affairs with other women; when Hera found out, she punished Echo by turning her into “a person who can never speak first, can never be silent when spoken to and can only repeat the last words which she has heard”. (Ovid, Metamorphoses 3)[2]

Echoes are generally used to symbolise “regression and passivity”, often before some kind of transformation.[3]

In A Passage to India

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The Marabar caves act as a microcosm for the universe, their mysterious and “dark” chambers representing the vastness of the universe. Indeed, before anything existed, there was nothingness, but such a stupendously immeasurable quantity of nothingness that it is an understatement to refer to them as “unspeakable”, or “difficult to discuss”. Even when a “flame rises in the depths of the rock and moves towards the surface like an imprisoned spirit”, it soon has nothing to do but “expire”. This flame, representing humanity in all its beauty, is very easily quenched by the pure incomprehensibility of the caves.

We are told soon enough that these caves contain an echo, which is produced only when a sound is made. This echo, a “terrifying echo”, diminishes all sounds created to the one sound, “boum”: any noise that may be made, no matter how significant or insignificant, “hope, politeness, the blowing of a nose, the squeak of a boot, all produce ‘boum.’” Thus, all of man’s creations are reduced, by the omnipresent echo contained in the cave, to practically nothing. Forster shows here that every feat of humanity put together does not carry any more meaning than “boum” when compared to the enormity of the universe – as John Sayre Martin writes, “all value is ultimately subjective and, under the eye of eternity, equally meaningless.”[4]

Even though for each person visiting the caves, the echo heard is the same, the effect on each is entirely different, since the echo reflects back at them, together with the perfectly polished walls, their innermost feelings. For example, Mrs Moore’s experience during her visit to the caves is completely dissimilar to that of Adela. The former watches her beloved Christianity sputter to a meaningless “boum” – where before she felt that “God is love”, she now comes to realise “that all its divine words from ‘Let there be Light’ to ‘It is finished’ only amounted to ‘boum.’” Adela, however, suffers more a crisis of self, or conduct, rather than the crisis of faith undergone by the elder. With Adela, there is the added element of a shadow, which projects her subconscious to the outside. Psychoanalytically, this ties in with the fact that immediately prior to her entrance to the caves, Adela is pondering over her relationship with Ronny, and her pending marriage, as well as thinking of Aziz’ physical appeal. Moreover, she associates this combination of echo and shadow to rape, which could be representative of her innermost desires. Noteworthy too is the fact that the Indians who visit the caves do not seem to be fascinated or even affected by the echo. Indeed, it “never impressed” Professor Godbole, and Aziz, when entering the cave, still had “his deeper thoughts…about the breakfast”. Perhaps this is due to the fact that these people belong to a country that is “older than anything in the world” and are inherently endowed with a sense of connection and understanding, or perhaps it is the opposite, that they hold the feeling of a “muddle” without realising what it is, and this is akin to understanding. On the other hand, the echo that is present in the caves cannot be said to completely exemplify meaninglessness. After all, it is the echo that gives Mrs Moore her “valid insight into ultimate truth,”[5] and as an effect she remains to her death in possession of this knowledge of the utter meaninglessness of humanity and equally a unique oneness with the universe.

Yet the echo remains present even after the trip to the caves, existing without being inside a Marabar cave: Adela, while undergoing no significant transformation from the echo during her adventure in the caves, comes to encounter a resounding echo in her head almost the instant she reaches Chandrapore. Although in the course of the novel Adela never fully comes to comprehend the full significance of the echo, she does feel moved by it, and even perceives that it is something otherworldly, not human, “it is not a headache, it is an echo”.

Forster subtly includes the word ‘echo’ when using intransitive verbs relating to speech: instead of writing “he said”, Forster writes “he echoed”. Interestingly enough, he utilises this when describing both cultures, again demonstrating that all humanity is but one entity:

He said something swiftly to his wife in Bengali. “We expect you Thursday.”

“Thursday . . .” the woman echoed. (p40)


Flames of suspicion leapt up in the breast of each man. “Humbug!” exclaimed Hamidullah, in authoritative tones, quenching them.

“Humbug, most certainly,” echoed the others, ashamed of themselves. (p91)

(Indian)

“By Jove, she's right,” Ronny exclaimed. “The paint's gone.”

“By Jove, sir, your lady is right,” echoed the Eurasian. (p81)


“Those swine are always on the lookout for a grievance,” said Lesley, to propitiate her.

“Swine, I should think so,” the Major echoed. (p203)

(English)


Furthermore, Forster employs the echo as a symbol of causality, arguing that whatever humanity does, it will always come back to haunt it: “everything echoes now; there's no stopping the echo. The original sound may be harmless, but the echo is always evil.” Fielding, the character behind this thought, himself cannot “develop it” since it “belonged to the universe that he had missed or rejected.” It is astonishing that even Fielding, who is almost Forster’s voice in the novel, and who is portrayed by Forster as one of the more embracing of Indian culture and humanity in general, cannot come to terms with this seemingly basic, yet overwhelming, fact about life. So perhaps what Forster is attempting to show by this is that even though we may try to comprehend the meaning of life, the universe and everything, we will never know more than “boum.”

Nevertheless, this is not necessarily a completely nihilistic view on life. On the contrary, Forster seems to contend that if anything humanity does is in the end only “boum”, then there can be no use in racial tension, or evil, or any of the ‘sins’ described in Passage, such as vanity, megalomania and selfishness. Since whatever we do is meaningless, Forster says, we should at least attempt to do good, to welcome other cultures and other people, and make the most of life – demonstrated quite clearly by Fielding and Aziz’ attempts to maintain a friendship despite their cultural differences.

Ultimately, Forster uses the echo, in A Passage to India, to illustrate the sheer futility of humanity as a whole on a universal scale. He uses this symbol additionally to instigate an appeal to humanity to act for the better, to unite cultures and terminate oppression. Quite the reverse to a defeatist tone, Forster’s writing seems even to embody a ‘carpe diem’ quality.

Comments

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Please put any comments you may have here, or preferably on the original page. I would rather that the actual essay not be edited.

References

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  1. ^ The Penguin Dictionary of Symbols, Jean Chevalier and Alain Gheerbrant (translated by John Buchanan-Brown), Penguin Group, 1996, p336
  2. ^ Ibid
  3. ^ Ibid
  4. ^ E.M. Forster: The Endless Journey, John Sayre Martin, Cambridge University Press, 1976, p149
  5. ^ Ibid