Author's note : You can find a summary of 'Streetcar' at www.sparknotes.com/lit/streetcar/summary.html. This will probably be a drawn-out project – I just thought I'd start posting parts up asap to get an idea of responses etc.
Writing those first words quite honestly changed Clark's life. It changed his perspective of the world. Or rather, it made him realise that his view of the world had been growing different to that of , say, Pete, for quite a while now. Seeing those words Clark realised that he was truly different form his male peers, in more than the extraterrestrial sense. And suddenly, sitting there alone in the strange, timeless moment of early dusk, shut off from the world, he saw with a strange new clarity just how long he'd been feeling this way. How long he'd felt strangely awkward and afraid whenever the topic of relationships came up, whenever Pete and the other guy's were talking about their latest 'conquests'.
Whenever he had vaguely acknowledged these feelings, he had always brushed his confusion away, figuring it was embarrassment at his lack of experience. On the even rarer occasion when he asked himself why he had no experience, he put it down to a fear of whether he could make a physical relationship with a girl work. Who knew what crazy alien hormones could make him do? What if he got carried away and hurt some poor girl? What if he was, well, different? All these fears had offered adequate, though depressing explanations for his strange reluctance to enter the world of serious dating. Needless to say, they were the only concerns related to his powers that never made it into the dinner-table discussions.
He saw it all now, how he'd always felt, in the pit of his stomach, in the back of his mind, a strange, elusive panic whenever anything related to sex or relationships came into the topic of conversation.
Most of all, he realised why he'd chosen Lana to be he object of his affections. He looked back at all his actions and was shocked, yet strangely contented, to acknowledge that he had never truly wanted her. She was the classic, unattainable beauty. She was way above him in terms of popularity, she had a boyfriend, she thought of him as a friend. A mixture of her unquestionable sweetness, and attractiveness, as well as the complete clutz he turned into whenever he got near her, had served to convince him of his 'infatuation' with her. Of course, a large part of the latter could be explained by her necklace, but he had never, until now, admitted quite how much.
The truth was, he did care about Lana. But as he wrote in the diary, as he let his train of thought pour out uncensored, lacking any self-denial, Clark noted that he honestly didn't feel more for her than for Chloe or Pete. She was a friend. And though his mind, encouraged by his environment, had convinced him that he should be, and therefore probably was, attracted to this girl, his heart told him that there was no extra feelings of desire there. He had been deluding himself. He had been swept away by a notion, the same way that he had always been, when as a kid he had discovered a new power, or a new game…How many times in his childhood had he gone through phases of dressing up as the comic-book hero who had most recently captured his imagination, or in adolescence, discovered a new band, played their album non-stop for a week, before leaving it to gather dust ever after? It sounded so insensitive, so trivial, so shallow – and ultimately so true – but Lana Lang had been nothing but anther phase. A longer, more convincing fixation than any he had had previously, and one that had helped him to believe that he was no different than any other guy, when it came to women….but it hadn't been real.
What he felt now, was that real? What he felt when he looked at him, at-
No. Clark wasn't quite ready to go there quite yet. This was still all so incredible, the way this 'confession' felt like it was lightening the burden on his soul. His blue-grey eyes were on the verge of filling with tears, the experience was affecting him so greatly, the words on the page tearing way the deceptions, the repressed feelings, all the self-delusions. The truth was being wrenched from his subconscious, from the back of his mind, and forced into reality on the pages before him, and he was in shock at just how clear everything was now.
Pausing for a moment, he gave a surprised little laugh, when he realised the first time, apart from those vague, awkward feelings, that he'd sensed something was different…
It must have been about four or five months ago. His English Literature class…
He had come to love it, the study of words. He had a way with them. He seemed to be able to understand them in a way which greatly surprised him, for he sensed pretty soon that his understanding and appreciation was at a deeper level than any of his classmates. At one point he had even wondered if he could be a writer himself someday, grabbing his reader's attention, and stirring their emotions in the way that his were being stirred…
Clark was always very guarded of his opinions and insights though. Yes, Clark Kent, who had fought quite a variety of enemies to date, would continue to chicken out in the day-to-day realm of school, a place where he was out there on his own, being judged by his teachers and peers. Sitting at that desk, second row centre, with Pete in front of him drawing cartoons in the margin of his notebook, and Chloe to his left yawning and flicking absent-mindedly through the text, Clark could never build up the courage to raise his hand to answer a question, and suffer the onslaught of seventeen pairs of surprised, curious eyes scrutinising him, unimpressed by the hesitant, stuttering opinions or explanations that would come from his mouth.
He didn't like attention. He didn't want to be the Teacher's Pet, he didn't want to be stand out. He didn't want them to notice he was different.
Of course, at that point 'different' just meant having an interest in his work. But that quickly began to change…
Clark had never really been that passionate about literature before that year. He certainly wasn't a big reader in the sense of really getting into a good novel, seeing all the underlying themes, or appreciating the style. As soon as he'd picked up the trick of reading a whole book in under 10 seconds, he pretty much gave up 'savouring' literature. But this year things had changed. With this class, came his sudden love of the written word.
Maybe it was the material – maybe it became more mature, more moving, and more passionate, or maybe it was just his teen hormones that made it seem suddenly more…understandable. Interesting. What with his developing powers, and well, the development of all those concerns that come with being an adolescent, themes such as love and death, passion and fear, and all the subtleties of human relationships, and just all the pain and confusion of living seemed so much more relevant…Clark started to yearn for all this insight, devouring it in the material being studied.
But it had been that one work, five months ago, that had really got him excited, that peaked his curiosity and made him examine in excruciating detail all its messages. It would be his interest in certain messages in particular, that led to his first real concerns…
Tennessee Williams' "A streetcar named Desire" was a play about sex. Clark's English instructor declared as much clearly and loudly when she had first handed round their copies of the play, with the intent of grabbing everybody's attention. She succeeded. Of course there was the ensuing laughter, and raised eyebrows. And then there were the weeks of simple study, reading it through, understanding the background, the era it was written in, studying structure and the style. It was their task to become familiar with the story of Blanche DuBois, hiding from her sordid past and her guilt concerning her gay husband's suicide, all the time fighting a battle of wills with the sexual predator that was Stanley Kowlaski.
"Streetcar is an integral part of modern popular culture." The class had been told, and sure enough everyone knew the names, the classic lines about the 'kindness of strangers' and Stanley's famous scream for 'Stell-aaahhh!". And of course, Clark recalled with a grin, Pete and Chloe fell over themselves laughing as they tried out the southern accents.
Then came the crude comments from one of the jocks at the back of the class, muttering about how he could care less about some fag's play about a crazy tease who probably deserved everything she got. With minds like that in the class, Clark was not about to risk revealing his unexplained fascination with the play, by volunteering responses to the teacher's questions. Fascinated as he was, as far as Chloe and Pete knew their friend was no more interested than them. To them,it was just another assignment. It only got personal for them so far as to warrant a couple of comments about the crappy representation of African-Americans, and the lack of real reproach for abusive treatment of women in the play.
But Clark found his attention inadvertently seized, in particular by one discussion, towards the end of a lesson, in which the students were generally tired, restless, and too busy thinking about the big game in three days time. It was the teacher's attempt to try and engage her class's interest, and really take them into the important issues of the play. In the long run, it would take Clark into the most confusing issue of his young life.
"Listen guys, you're getting that sexuality is one of the key themes of the play, but you've got to realise that homosexuality is just as present here as heterosexuality. " The teacher looked at them meaningfully, her words accentuated by a rhythmic waving of the text before her in time with her points. "You've gotta remember that Williams was gay, and that although he couldn't openly deal with homosexuality in a play at this time, the issues are in here, and you have to start confronting them, and talking about them."
There were a few sniggers from the jocks under the lines of 'yeah, right'., while some kids visibly winced out of their discomfort at talking about the subject. Other's faces showed a desire to be enthusiastic, but they just didn't have the understanding or experience to discuss this.
The teacher sighed.
"For example…let's look at scene five, where Blanche comes on to the paper boy. This isn't just Blanche's drunken flirting here, this is Williams trying to reveal the intricacies of Blanche's character." She found several blank faces staring back at her. Unnoticed in the second row, the boy with the raven black hair let it fall over his face as he looked down intensely at the text.
The teacher leant on her desk and nodded towards an unsuspecting victim.
"Okay, Pete…can you tell me for example, what parallels we can draw between this young boy and Blanche's late husband?"
Sympathetic, or amused eyes turned towards Pete as he sat casually in his chair, a hesitant smile as he gave a slight shrug.
"Wasn't her husband quite young too? Maybe Williams is tryin' to say she's basic'ly a cradle-robber."
A wide grin appeared on his face as a mild wave of laughter went round the class.
The teacher allowed herself a small smile, but her voice showed signs of disappointment.
" It's a little bit more complicated than that. Can anyone take Pete's point a little deeper? Anyone? What is it Blanche is attracted to in these two men?"
There was one of those silences that always followed a question that everybody knew no-one can answer, and the students took the standard eyes-down approach, waiting for the inevitable uncomfortable atmosphere that would force the teacher to answer her own question.
But the silence was broken by a soft voice, full of the surprised satisfaction of one who had found been thinking deeply about a puzzle, and had found themselves announcing their conclusion out loud.
"Vulnerability."
The eyes had all turned, none going quite so wide with surprise as Chloe's or Pete's as they turned to see it was Clark who had spoken. Realising what he'd blurted out, Clark had raised his eyes hesitantly, a faint blush appearing on those well-defined cheeks. He tried to concentrate on the teacher's happy face as she nodded in approval at him.
"Excellent Mr Kent. Care to elaborate?"
He had blocked out all the eyes then, and instead watched himself, as if from afar, as he spoke confidently, explaining his theory.
"Well, both of them are young, but although I think Williams was concentrating on the confusion and hesitation that we can see in the youth of the paper boy, I think for Blanche's husband, it was his confusion over his sexuality that made him vulnerable.
In this scene Blanche sees herself as offering experience to a young boy intimidated by her sexual maturity, while in the past, she had offered her husband a chance to hide away from the truth, a means of escaping his true sexuality . " There was a slight hesitation then, and an almost indistinguishable frown, followed by a shaking of the head, as if he was shaking off a thought that had started to appear. He continued.
"But, ah, what Williams is pointing out with all this, is that either way, Blanche has never really had a strong dominant heterosexual man…which is why she's both attracted to, and completely afraid of, Stanley - who incorporates all these things."
He could dimly recall Pete's jaw hanging open as he stared at him from the seat in front, and the teacher's enthusiastic response, cut short by the bell. But what had really made him falter as he went to pack his book-bag, and made him cast his eyes away quickly from the classmates pouring out of the room on all sides of him was the complete understanding and empathy he had found himself feeling for the position Blanche's husband was in. How confused he was, how ashamed of his urges he must have been, and how desperately he must have grabbed the opportunity to fall for Blanche's seductive nature, to allow himself to be caught by her charms, to have been married to this beautiful example of feminine allure. How desperately he must have wanted to able to hide from the truth, and tried to convince himself by pursuing Blanche, that he was just as 'red-blooded' a male as the next man.
Now Clark realised why that moment had been so pivotal. Because somewhere, deep down, he had suspected that he had the same attitude towards Lana.
So, that had been the first moment he had had the sense that he was running, hiding from something. For although he had repelled all those feelings an thoughts quickly, and had repressed them by the time had had stepped out of the classroom, there remained in him, a sense that there was something lurking at the back his mind, a well of uncertainty that should remain untapped, a line that he had to be careful not to cross. He began to have the sense that he had to be very careful, and avoid something, some train of thought. He had started to hide.
But not long after, he would be forced to wonder from what.
TBC