Song of the Lark

Thoughts on Song of the Lark by Willa Cather (1915)

     The most prominent theme that stands out to me is the commitment to one’s art, and within that process there is a necessity to form one’s own identity. In this book there is an ever present awareness of the roles one should play in society, and the subtle authority that exists behind it.  The divide between the ethnicities of Moonstone, and Thea’s willingness to overcome it, is one aspect of this social convention.  The role of religion is another.  At some point Thea may have to diverge from the comfortable pre-determined belief system that she has acquired from her family.   An interesting exchange between Mrs Kronborg and Giddy illustrates two ways of thinking when she states that:

     “I believe a man's watched over, and he can't be hurt on the railroad or anywhere else if it's    intended he shouldn't be.”
     Giddy laughed. "Then the trains must be operated by fellows the Lord has it in for, Mrs. Kronborg.     They figure it out that a railroad man's only due to last eleven years; then it's his turn to be smashed."
     "That's a dark Providence, I don't deny," Mrs. Kronborg admitted. "But there's lots of things in life that's hard to understand." (121)

     This suggestion of providence could be applied to Thea and the idea that she is destined for greatness in whatever she does.  But Giddy’s witty response shows a practical understanding of the world.  Life is usually not that simple, or safe.  If one wants to be an artist, as in Thea’s case, then one might have to fight for it against the odds.  The artist, or other kind of committed individual, must be willing to actively create oneself without just passively going where life takes him or her.  If everything is destined to happen, then there is not much use in striving for something that will happen anyway.  However, this is a big gamble to take if one is ambitious about something, in which case it is better to take over control and not blindly trust providence. 
     Up to this point the book has been a chronology of events without much tension to the story.  There are no real problems, setbacks, or mounting struggles that would define Thea’s character.  Even when the money to continue study seems like it will be a problem a solution presents itself and she is able to advance from teacher to teacher.  The end of Part 2 notes a “turning-point”:

This time, when Thea left Moonstone to go back to Chicago, she went alone. As the train pulled out, she looked back at her mother and father and Thor. They were calm and cheerful; they did not know, they did not understand. Something pulled in her -- and broke. She cried all the way to Denver . . . It was all behind her, and she knew that she would never cry like that again. People live through such pain only once; pain comes again, but it finds a tougher surface. Thea remembered how she had gone away the first time, with what confidence in everything, and what pitiful ignorance. (246)

Finally, we get to some character growth and some intensity of experience.  I expect the first half of the book was all about setting up events for a much more dramatic situation in the second half, when Cather can make a significant statement about the artist or individual existing in opposition to the world.
     The second half of The Song of the Lark seems to really emphasize the isolation the artist must go through in order to be committed to his or her art.  There is clearly a separation between Thea and the rest of the world. This extends beyond her family and the residents of Moonstone to include personal social relations and also members of her own profession at the end.  Life in her hotel suite seems to be a quiet, cloistered one.  However, there does seem to be a definite reason for this, not only giving Thea the time and space to perfect her art, but to give her the perspective on life that is very different from others.  She has a significant revelation during her time in the world of the “ancient people.”  She asks herself  “what was any art but an effort to make a sheath, a mould in which to imprison for a moment the shining, elusive element which is life itself, -life hurrying  past us and running away , too strong to stop, too sweet to lose?” (286).  This awareness is the kind of thought that most people don’t have and compels Thea to move on her with art, unable to return to a simple life.
     This notion of a “shining, elusive element” that is at the core of life’s vitality suggests Cather shared an aesthetic vision with Frederich Nietzsche. There are a number of Nietzschean elements that come through in the book. Cather’s mention of a “Nietzsche Club” in passing in the section “Stupid Faces” suggests her awareness of his work regarding the artist. Nietzsche viewed ancient art as containing a Dionysian element of chaos that acknowledged the inner vitality of life which eventually became suppressed by the Apollonian element of rationality and order.  Losing connection with the Dionysian means one loses the connection to their most essential being.  One location that Nietzsche was able to see the return of Dionysian expression was in the operatic works of Wagner.  Another aspect is revealed when Dr Archie is reflecting on his past and considering the most important years of his life:

He fell to looking back over his life and asking himself which years of it he would like to live over again, - just as they had been,- and they were not many. His college years he would live again, gladly. After them there was nothing he would care to repeat until he came to Thea Kronborg. (375)

This examination contains a hint of the Nietzscean concept of “eternal recurrence,” the idea that one must be willing to experience everything in their life is order to give an affirmative “yes” to the value of their life. Dr Archie seems to think that knowing Thea created a value that compensated for all those years that he would rather not relive. Finally, Thea eventually states that:

You can’t try to do things right and not despise the people who do them wrong. How can I be indifferent? If that doesn’t matter, then nothing matters. . . What one really strives for in art is not the sort of thing you are likely to find when you drop in for a performance at the opera. What one strives for is far away so beautiful . . . that there is nothing one can say about it. (429)

She continues by discussing the feeling produced by art, something that can’t be wholly contained within language. There seems to be a division here, not only between the artist and others, but between different artists when ranking bad art versus good art. Thea’s response here clearly shows a value system and an attempt to overcome the nihilism that Nietzsche predicted by rejecting a system that supports the idea that “nothing matters.”
     The lack of Thea’s point of view in the second half indicates how much she had faded out of the social world and into a world of her own making. Her life was an attempt to find that elusive element in a way that only the individual can. Others who have not had the same experience of revelation that she had would be unable to fully appreciate it and coexist with her, since it is a world that in many ways exists beyond language.