Through all of my conversations about James Baldwin’s Giovanni’s Room, with my fellow reading group leaders especially, a similar consensus on the novel’s main character, David, emerges. We, with our narrative foresight and modern sensibilities, think David is an asshole. At times, we have some sympathy for David, we hope he will see the error of his ways, tell Hella the truth, allow Giovanni to see him, the real him, and let his walls crumble so that he can be happy. But this never happens. David buries Joey. He tries to bury Giovanni. He may bury Hella. It is clear that David isn’t happy with how his life has ended up, so why doesn’t he abandon his way of living? There has to be some explanation, from David’s perspective, that he does not see, or chooses to reject, any argument against his controlling idea.
But wait, his controlling idea? In the first blog post, I outlined a controlling idea: Closing oneself off from intimacy and closeness leads to anguish in solitude; and counter idea: Allowing oneself to be seen and accepted by others (and oneself) will lead to fulfillment and love, for the novel as a whole, but they are not assigned to a character in specific. Instead, they serve as a summary of the narrative’s ups and downs, a struggle between a context, a negatively charged controlling idea, and a purpose, a positively charged controlling idea which serves to ‘escape’ the unpleasantness of the context. Nevertheless, we can see that this dichotomy of ideas cannot be the only one that exists. If David saw the world in the terms of this controlling value, he would make an honest effort to run towards the purpose due to the pain of the context. He would run away from closed off and isolation, and towards closeness and love. But this never happens. David has quick flashes of realization, little moments where the reader thinks ‘maybe this time he’s figuring it out’, but he never makes an honest effort to flee the context.
So, either David is insane, or he is operating within a different controlling idea, one that sees the purpose as a context, something to be avoided rather than the solution to a problem. This brings into existence what’s called a network of controlling values, two opposite worldviews locked in an eternal struggle for dominance over our actions. Let’s take a shot at a controlling value that might dominate David’s world, and not just the story from my perspective. What could he find unsavory about being open and letting others in? What about: Being vulnerable with others will lead to rejection and misery. Okay, that sounds pretty bad. Definitely a downside to being open with others, and something we generally want to avoid. If this is the context through which David views his relationships, what is he running towards? Protecting yourself from others’ judgement will keep you safe from pain. If this is something like how David sees the world, where being judged unworthy by others is the capital W Worst thing that can happen to you, it makes sense that he would never let himself be seen at all, even if that meant wreaking havoc in the lives of others. But, from the perspective of his controlling value, this is excused. His worldview values safety, not love.
We can even see how within the story these opposing values are represented in characters. David represents the controlling value that moves toward safety from judgement, and Giovanni represents the controlling value that moves towards openness and love. This is apparent in a climactic scene later in the novel, after David tells Giovanni that he is going to leave him, and Giovanni yells at David: “You have never loved anyone, I am sure you never will” (Baldwin 141), among other attempts to make David feel regret for what he has done, or feel something at all. But David proclaims “I feel nothing now… nothing” (Baldwin 141). Giovanni’s pleas only send David further into his own controlling value, causing him to shut out Giovanni, and maybe everyone else, forever, sealing both his and Giovanni’s fates.
Read the Room 