Open City discussion

So we learn towards the end of the book that Julius, in his early teens, raped Moji. Which is, of course, a major bombshell, the last thing I was expecting. But then--completely inexplicably--or maybe not so inexplicably?--Julius doesn't say anything more about it. He records Moji's accusation, but then starts talking about the Roman and Nietzsche and the hot coal--and that's it, he never comes back to the rape, never gives his version, never talks about the guilt he must feel, etc.

So what gives? Any explanations? Comments? Help me make sense of this.

After finishing the book I browsed the interviews and reviews again, looking for a clue to the exact question you posted here - turns out, there is an interview with Teju Cole he refers to on his website with a note on this theme - it's up at 3 A.M. magazine: "3:AM: The accusation that Moji makes against Julius: many critics have ignored it but it struck me as a huge moment that completely debunked my (perhaps complacent) understanding of the character. Is it ‘true’?" - "Teju Cole: Oh, it’s absolutely true. I can’t imagine Julius’ story without it. I knew right from the beginning the book would end like that: a three vicious thwacks of the hammer, and then a soft exit to strings. I’m attracted, in art, to things that trouble the complacency of the viewer or reader."

i blogged about it, with some further notes and links, here: http://virtual-notes.blogspot.de/2012...

Hi Dorothee. I enjoyed reading your blog post. I think you make a good point about the rape, that it connects to the larger them of humanity's inability to effectively deal with tragedy, that Julius, just like all of us, blocks certain dark moments from his mind.

I definitely need to read this book again. It's one of those books that demands to be re-read.

Thanks for your comment. I'm glad you, too, enjoyed "Open City."

I think it's also a part of this question of identity in the book. Julius always sees himself as a 'hero' or 'good guy'. Moji's information contradicts that. What is his identity now? Well, he's essentially the same person, because he knew back then that he had done it and he buried it, and he will bury it again because it does not match up with how he views himself.

This is a book that I have continued to think about for months since I closed its covers. I was apalled that Julius could hear a cry of pain from another human being and not say a word. Suddenly, Julius' ruminations seemed like intellectualizations of the worst kind. AS a physician myself I was appalled that this man, who could not even acknowledge the pain and suffering of a woman he raped, thought he was equipped to care for patients in a compassionate or empathetic way.

The novel's philosophical crux is an exploration of how humans cope with the past--he says that the past can be a death or a mirror. His choice of immigrants--mostly fleeing from something than to something (the immigrant as exile) is a perfect vehicle to personify this. The image of the birds flying into the statue of Liberty to their deaths suggests that in fleeing the past is a kind of death. How ironic too, that Julius buries these birds--a symbolic act that gains meaning when one reads of how he has pushed the rape out of his consciousness. But releasing the past has his consequences. Julius cannot keep still, he listens but reveals nothing of himself,he is trapped in a selfimposed limbo.

Still--I found the ending to devalue what went before. I felt, and still feel, very emotionally unsatisfied by Julius lack of reaction top being confronted with his own past and going back to business as usual. I suppose I expected too much from this very damaged character, and ultimately felt betrayed and disappointed in him. This is a remarkable, beautifully written and troubling book.

Interesting interpretation. I just assumed that Moji had accused Julius wrongly. And Julius' cool reaction to the accusation seemed to suggest that Moji was pulling some weird mind-job for fractured reasons of her own. I guess I was too complacent a reader. Lulled to sleep by Julius' soft strings.

this book is definitely a keeper but I am troubled by the writer's depiction of the Moji character and how she relates to the lead character Julius - it felt false, stilted and forced

what was the author's purpose in writing it the way he did?

I think it was one of the most amazing books I've read in a long time, first.

Issa, I think Julius' entire life is a fabrication, and so there is some of that artificial feel to the narrative, "stilted" is an excellent word.

I haven't had time (no weekend since I finished the book) to look into the role of women in Nigeria during that period. Were they subject to routine violence? I don't know.

I did think, at first, that perhaps Moji misremembered her rapist. But then I went and looked at Nigerian history in the 1980's and 1990's, and in light of the fact that Julian was in a military school during a period of military rule, I imagine that the brutality he describes only touches the surface. My guess is that the boys in this school were purposefully raised to be brutal. I haven't read enough to feel I understand it all, but I'm left with the feeling that someday Julius will crumble under the weight of that and his estrangement from his mother, which isn't explained, either. Neither does he explain why, in Belgium, he did not put more than a modicum of effort into locating his Oma.

As a psychiatrist, at least this used to be true, one has to undergo psychoanalysis, does anyone know if this is still true? If so, he must have been incredibly adept at disguising his true past and deepest feelings.

I'm left with the feeling that if I understood that period in Nigeria better, I might think Julius had rebelled internally at his native environment, and gone into psychiatry as someone who needed the tools it afforded for his own personal use (although he seems to be a very dedicated doctor in terms of the patients he treats -- the two he mentions, "V." and is it "M."? -- both experience violence at a cultural and a personal level, in very different roles, and cannot find peace -- Julius identifies with both of them.

I think the depth and unflagging nature of Julius' intellectualism and artistic appreciation are a purposeful attempt to fully and constantly occupy his mind with things that are very far removed from his true self, his real past. I think he is so very deeply self-controlled that he cannot allow himself to respond to his own guilt. I'm left thinking Mr. Cole wanted us to be take Julius as he wrote him, wondering if he could, or would, continue to hold all this so deeply inside and for how long.

Edit: There's so much I could have said, his walking, the fact that while I said above he needed his intellectualism and artistic experiences, they are nonetheless valid for that. His completely empathic feeling for the young Hasidic couple at the photography exhibit that bites so deeply into him that he has to leave. Is he being empathic, or is he projecting horrors he knows firsthand? But I haven't written a review yet, and I guess that's the place for all that. I am always reluctant to review a book this good, that is so accessible and yet so opaque at the same time, something in me speaks volumes in return. I haven't returned the book to the library yet, and it's filled with Post-It notes, so while I don't want to renew it and deny anyone else, or delay anyone else, its amazing voice, I'm reluctant to part with it.

I was completely overwhelmed with the revelation of his past transgression. However, as I thought more about it, he was almost too intellectual to be real. As someone in previous comments mentioned, I must reread this book again to see it anew. Plus, his simply walking out of the home and saying nothing to Moji. Alan, the physician was right on the mark saying he was appalled by his lack of concern. Is there a touch of the sociopath in this character?

Thanks for your post, Don, I was asking myself the same questions, and thank you for your post and blog, Dorothee. At the end of the book, I was so angry at Julius for his dismissal of Moji that I hated him, and in turn, hated Cole. It's funny, I had already started to dislike Julius, so the rape and his reaction to Moji, while shocking, wasn't so surprising for me, as I had already a growing dislike of Julius. I was already irritated with the separation and distance he kept from others, and his intellectualizing. I can think of 2 other instances, before he tells of the rape, that broke my sympathy for Julius (perhaps these are the three hammer strikes Cole mentioned in his interview): when Julius fled his close friend Professor Saito once he started his final decline into death, his half-assed attempt at finding his Oma in Brussels, and finally, the rape. Even his dismissal of causing difficulty to his fellow residents when he left for a month was a smaller red flag for me that this narrator is not who he pretends to be. But what I am not convinced of here, is would a man who can so easily dismiss Moji, not say a word, or have a thought or feeling about her, would this same man really even include this anecdote in his story? This is a first person narrative. Why does he even tell this anecdote? It doesn't seem to fit, and I am not sure how to put this in words... if he had pushed it out of his mind and heart, why include it? Additionally, would this man be able to write about the Hudson river and would he be able to talk about, with such eloquence, the very problem he has? This problem, of not noticing the water, the darkness, the evil that even he can do? The interview was telling: this was Cole trying to keep us readers on our toes... trying to jog the "complacent reader." But what is the worth? Has this done me any good in reading this book? I do think he has the touch of a sociopath, or a cerebral narcissist in him.... but is this an accurate depiction of a story a sociopath would tell about himself?