Night-Sea Journey John Barth "One way or another, no matter which theory of our journey is correct, it's myself

I address; to whom I rehearse as to a stranger our history and condition, and will disclose my secret ho e though I sin! for it" "Is the journey my in#ention$ %o the night, the sea, e&ist at all, I as! myself, a art from my e& erience of them$ %o I myself e&ist, or is this a dream$ Sometimes I wonder" 'nd if I am, who am I$ (he )eritage I su osedly trans ort$ But how can I *e *oth #essel and contents$ Such are the +uestions that *eset my inter#als of rest" ",y trou*le is, I lac! con#iction" ,any accountsof our situation seem lausi*le to me- where and what we are, why we swim and whither" But im lausi*le ones as well, erha s es ecially those, I must admit as ossi*ly correct" -#en li!ely" If at times, in certain humors- stri!ing in unison, say, with my neugh*ors and chanting with them 'Onward. / ward.'- I ha#e su osed that we ha#e e#er after all a common ,a!er, 0hose nature and moti#es we may not !now, *ut 0ho engendered us in some mysterious wise and launched us forth toward some end !nown *ut to )im- if 1for a moodslength only2 I ha#e *een a*le to entertain such notions, #ery o ular in certain +uarters, it is *ecause our night-sea journey arta!es

of their a*surdity" One might e#en say3 I can *elie#e them *ecause they are a*surd" ")as that *een said *efore$ "'nother arado&3 it a ears to *e these recesses from swimming that sustain me in the swim" (wo measures onward and u ward, flailing with the rest, then I float e&hausted and dis irited, *orood u on the night, the sea, the journey, while the flood *ears me a measure *ac! and down3 slow rogress, *ut I li#e, I li#e, and ma!e my way, aye, ast many a drowned comrade in the end, stronger, worthier than I, #ictims of their unremitting joie de nager" I ha#e seen the *est swimmers of my generation go under" Num*erless the num*er of the dead. (housands drown as I thin! this thought, millions as I rest *efore returning to the swim" 'nd scores, hundreds of millions ha#e e& ired since we surged forth, *ra#e in our innocence, u on our dreadful way" '4o#e. 4o#e.' we sang then, a +uarter-*illion strong, and churned the warm sea white with joy of swimming. Now all are gone downthe *uoyant, the sodden, leaders and followers, all gone under, while wretched I swim on" 5et these same reflecti#e inter#als that !ee me afloat ha#e led me into wonder, dou*t, des air- strange emotions for a swimming.- ha#e led me, e#en, to sus ect " " " that our night-sea journey is without meaning" "Indeed, if I ha#e yet to join the hosts of the suicides, it is *ecause 1fatigue a art2 I find it no meaningfuller

to drown myself than to go on swimming" "I !now that there are those who seem actually to enjoy the night-sea; who claim to lo#e swimming for its own sa!e, or sincerely *elie#e that 'reaching the Shore,' 'transmitting the )eritage' 10hose )eritage, I'd li!e to !now$ 'nd to whom$2is worth the staggering cost" I do not" Swimming itself I find at *est not acti#ely un leasant, more often tiresome, not infre+uently a torment" 'rguments from function and design don't im ress me3 granted that we can and do swim, that in a manner of s ea!ing our long tails and streamlined heads are 'meant for' swimming; it *y no means follows- for me, at least- that we should swim, or otherwise endea#or to 'fulfill our destiny"' 0hich is to say, Someone -lse's destiny, since ours, so far as I can see, is merely to erish, one way or another, soon or late" (he heartless 6eal of our 1de arted2 leaders, li!e the *lind am*ition and good cheer of my own youth, a alls me now; for the death of my comrades I am inconsola*le" If the night-sea journey has justification, it is not for us swimmers to disco#er it" "Oh, to *e sure, '4o#e.' one heard on e#ery side3 '4o#e it is that dri#es and sustains us.' I translate3 we don't !now what dri#es and sustains us, only that we are most misera*ly dri#en and, im erfectly, sustained" 4o#e is how we call our ignorance of what whi s us" '(o reach the Shore,' then3 *ut what if the Shore e&ists in the fancies of us swimmers merely,

who dream it to account for the dreadful fact that we swim, ha#e always and only swum, and continue swimming without res ite 1myself e&ce ted2 until we die$ Su osing e#en that there were a Shore- that, as a cynical com anion of mine once imagined, we rise from the drowned to disco#er all those #ulgar su erstitions and e&alted meta hors to *e literal truth3 the giant ,a!er of us all, the Shores of 4ight *eyond our night-sea journey. -whate#er would a swimmer do there$ (he fact is, when we imagine the Shore, what comes to mind is just the o osite of our condition3 no more night, no more sea, no more journeying" In short, the *lissful estate of the drowned" " 'Ours not to sto and thin!; ours *ut to swim and sin!""""' Because a moment's thought re#eals the ointlessness of swimming" 'No matter,' I'#e heard some say, e#en as they gul ed their last3 '(he nightsea journey may *e a*surd, *ut here we swim, willwe nill-we, against the flood, onward and u ward, toward a Shore that may not e&ist and couldn't *e reached if it did"' (he thoughtful swimmer's choices, then, they say, are two3 gi#e o#er thrashing and go under for good, or em*race the a*surdity; affirm in and for itself the night-sea journey; swim on with neither moti#e nor destination, for the sa!e of swimming, and com assionate moreo#er with your fellow swimmer, we *eing all at sea and e+ually in

the dar!" I find neither course acce ta*le" If not e#en theh hy othetical Shore can justify a sea-full of drowned comrades, to s ea! of the swim-in-itself as somehow doing so stri!es me as o*scene" I continue to swim- *ut only *ecause *lind ha*it, *lind instinct, *lind fear of drowning are still more strong than the horror of our journey" 'nd if on occasion I ha#e assisted a fellow-thrasher, joined in the cheers and songs, e#en assed along to others stro!es of genius from the drowned great, it's that I shrin! *y tem erament from ma!ing myself cons icuous" (o addle off in one's own direction, assert one's inde endent right-of-way, o#errun one's fellows without com unction, or dedicate oneself entirely to leasures and di#ersions without regard for conscience- I can't finally condemn those who journey in this wise; in half my moods I en#y them and des ise the wea! #itality that !ee s me from following their e&am le" But in reasona*ler moments I remind myself that it's their #ery freedom and selfres onsi*ility I reject, as more dramatically a*surd, in our sensless circumstances, than tailing along in con#entional fashion" Suicides, re*els, affirmers of the arado&- nay-sayers and yea-sayers ali!e to our fatal journey- I finally sha!e my head at them" 'nd s lash sighing ast their cor ses, one *y one, as ast a hundred sorts of others3 frfiends, enemies, *rothers; fools, sages, *rutes- and no*odies, million u on

million" I en#y them all" "' oor irony3 that I, who find a*horrent and tautological the doctrine of sur#i#al of the fittest 1fitness meaning, in my e& erience, nothing more than sur#i#al-a*ility, a talent whose only demonstration is the fact of sur#i#al, *ut whose chief ingredients seem to *e strength, guile, callousness2, may *e the sole remaining swimmer. But the doctrine is false as well as re ellent3 7hance drowns the worthy with the unworthy, *ears u the unfit with the fit *y whate#er definition, and ma!es the night-sea journey essentially ha ha6ard as well as murderous and unjustified" "'5ou only swim once"' 0hy *other, then$ "'-&ce t ye drown, ye shall not reach the Shore of 4ight"' 8o ycoc!" "One of my late com anions- that same cynic with the curious fancy, among the first to drownentertained us with odd conjectures while we waited to *egin our journey" ' fa#orite theory of his was that the 9ather does e&ist, and did indeed ma!e us and the sea we swim- *ut not a- ur ose or e#en consciously; )e made us, as it were, des ite )imself, as we ma!e wa#es with e#ery tail-thrash, and may *e unaware of our e&istence" 'nother was that )e !nows we're here *ut doesn't care what ha ens to us, inasmuch as )e creates 1#oluntarily or not2 other seas and swimmers at more or less regular inter#als" In *itterer moments,

such as just *efore he drowned, my friend e#en su osed that our ,a!er wished us unmade; there was indeed a Shore, he'd argue, which could sa#e at least some of us from drowning and toward which it was our function to struggle- *ut for reasons un!nowa*le to us )e wanted des erately to re#ent our reaching that ha y lace and fulfilling our destiny" Our '9ather,' in short, was our ad#ersary and would-*e !iller. No less outrageous, and offensi#e to traditional o inion, were the fellow's s eculations on the nature of our ,a!er3 that )e might well *e no swimmer )imself at all, *ut some sort of monstrosity, erha s e#en tailless; that )e might *e stu id, malicious, insensi*le, er#erse, or aslee and dreaming; that the end for which )e created and launched us forth, and which we flagellate oursel#es to fathom, was erha s immoral, e#en o*scene" -t cetera, et cetera3 there was no end to the cha 's conjectures, or the im oliteness of his fancy; I ha#e reason to sus ect that his early demise, whether lanned *y 'our ,a!er' or not, was e& edited *y certain fellow-swimmers indignant at his *las hemies" "In other moods, howe#er 1he was as gi#en to moods as I2, his theori6ing would *ecome half-serious, so it seemed to me, es ecially u on the su*jects of 9ate and Immortality, to which our youthful con#ersations often turned" (hen his harangues, if no less

fantastical, grew solemn and o*scure, and if he was still *aiting us, his assion undid the jo!e" )is o*jection to o ular o inions of the hereafter, he would declare, was their claim to general #alidity" 0hy need *elie#ers hold that all the drowned rise to *e judged at journey's end, and non-*elie#ers that drowning is final without e&ce tion$ In his o inion 1so he'd #ow at least2, nearly e#eryone's fate was ermanent death; indeed he too! a sour leasure in su osing that e#ery ',a!er' made thousands of se arate seas in )is creati#e lifetime, each o ulated li!e ours with millions of swimmers, and that in almost e#ery instance *oth sea and swimmers were utterly annihilated, whether accidentally or *y male#olent design" 1Nothing if not luralistical, he imagined there might *e millions and *illions of '9athers,' erha s in some 'night-sea' of their own.2 )owe#er- and here he turned infidels against him with the faithful- he rofessed to *elie#e that in ossi*ly a single night-sea er thousand, say, one of its +uarter-*illion swimmers 1that is, one swimmer in two hundred fifty *illions2 achie#ed a +ualified immortality" In some cases the rate might *e slightly higher; in others it was #astly lower, for just as there are swimmers of e#ery degree of roficiency, including some who drown *efore the journey starts, una*le to swim at all, and others created drowned, as it were, so he imagined what can only *e termed

im otent 7reators, ,a!ers una*le to ,a!e, as well as uncommonly fertile ones and all grades *etween" 'nd it leased him to deny anay necessary relation *etween a ,a!er's roducti#ity and )is other #irtuesincluding, e#en, the +uality of )is creatures" "I could go on 1he surely did2 with his ela*oration of these mad notions- such as that swimmers in other night-seas needn't *e of our !ind; that ,a!ers themsel#es might *elong to different s ecies, so to s ea!; that our articular ,a!er mightn't )imself *e immortal, or that we might *e not only )is emmissaries *ut )is 'immortality,' continuing )is life and our own, transmogrified, *eyond our indi#idual deaths" -#en this modified immortality 1meaningless to me2 he concei#ed as relati#e and contingent, su*ject to accident or deli*erate termination3 his et hy othesis was that ,a!ers and swimmers each generate the other- against all odds, their num*er *eing so great- and that any gi#en 'immortality-chain' could terminate after any num*er of cycles, so that what was 'immortal' 1still s ea!ing relati#ely2 was only the cyclic rocess of incarnation, which itself might ha#e a *eginning and an end" 'lternati#ely he li!ed to imagine cycles within cycles, either finite or infinite3 for e&am le, the 'night-sea,' as it were, in which ,a!ers 'swam' and created night-seas and swimmers li!e oursel#es, might *e the creation of a larger ,a!er, )imself one of many, 0ho in turn et

cetera" (ime itself he regarded as relati#e to our e& erience, li!e magnitude3 who !new *ut what, with each thrash of our tails, minuscule seas and swimmers, whole eternities, came to ass- as ours, erha s, and our ,a!er's ,a!er's, was ela sing *etween the stro!es of some su ertail, in a slower order of time$ "Naturally I hooted with the others at this nonsense" 0e were young then, and had only the dimmest notion of what lay ahead; in our ignorance we imagined night-sea journeying to *e a ositi#ely heroic enter rise" Its meaning and #alue we ne#er +uestioned; to *e sure, some must go down *y the way, a ity no dou*t, *ut to win a race re+uires that others lose, and li!e all my fellows I too! for granted that I would *e the winner" 0e milled and swarmed, im atient to *e off, ne#er mind where or why, only to try our youth against the realities of night and sea; if we indulged the s!e tic at all, it was as a droll, halfcontem i*le mascot" 0hen he died in the initial slaughter, no one cared" "'nd e#en now I don't su*scri*e to all his #iews- *ut I no longer scoff" (he horror of our history has urged me of o inions, as of #anity, confidence, s irit, charity, ho e, #itality, e#erything- e&ce t dull dread and a !ind of melancholy, stunned ersistence" 0hat leads me to recall his fancies is my g rowing sus icion that I, of all swimmers, may *e the sole

sur#i#or of this fell journey, tale-*earer of a generation" (his sus icion, together with the recent sea-change, suggests to me now that nothing is im ossi*le, not e#en my late com anion's wildest #isions, and *rings me to a certain des erate resol#e, the oint of my chronicling" ":ery li!ely I ha#e lost my senses" (he carnage at our setting out; our decimation *y whirl ool, oisoned cataract, sea-con#ulsion; the anic stam edes, mutinies, slaughters, mass suicides; the mounting e#idence that none will sur#i#e the journey- add to these anguish and fatigue; it were a miracle if sanity stayed afloat" (hus I admit, with the other ossi*ilities, that the resent sweetening and calming of the sea, and what seems to *e a !ind of #asty resence, song, or summons from the near u stream, may *e hallucinations of disordered sensi*ility"""" "8erha s, e#en, I am drowned already" Surely I was ne#er meant for the rough-and-tum*le of the swim; not im ossi*ly I erished at the outset and ha#e only imaged the night-sea journey from some final dee " In any case, I'm no longer young, and it is we s ent old swimmers, disa*used of e#ery illusion, who are most #ulnera*le to dreams" "Sometimes I thin! I am my drowned friend" "Out with it3 I'#e *egun to *elie#e, not only that She e&ists, *ut that She lies not far ahead, and stills the sea, and draws me )erward. 'ghast, I recollect his

maddest notion3 that our destination 1which e&isted, mind, in *ut one night-sea out of hundreds and thousands2 was no Shore, as commonly concei#ed, *ut a mysterious *eing, indescri*a*le e&ce t *y arado& and #aguest figure3 wholly different from us swimmers, yet our com lement; the death of us, yet our sal#ation and resurrection; simultaneously our journey's end, mid- oint, and commencement; not mem*ered and thrashing li!e us, *ut a motionless or hugely gliding s here of unimagina*le dimentsion; self-contained, yet de endent a*solutely, in some wise, u on the chance 1always monstrously im ro*a*le2 that one of us will sur#i#e the night-sea journey and reach""")er. )er, he called it, or She, which is to say, Other-than-a-he" I sha!e my head; the thing is too re osterous; it is myself I tal! to, to !ee my reason in this awful dar!ness" (here is no She. (here is no 5ou. I ra#e to myself; it's %eath alone that hears and summons" (o the drowned, all seas are calm"""" "4isten3 my friend maintained that in e#ery order of creation there are two sorts of creators, contrary yet com lementary, one of which gi#es rise to seas and swimmers, the other to the Night-which-contains-thesea and to 0hat-waits-at-the-journey's-end3 the former, in short, to destiny, the latter to destination 1and *oth rofligately, in#oluntarily, erha s indifferently or unwittingly2" (he ' ur ose' of the

night-sea journey- *ut not necessarily of the journeyer or of either ,a!er. -my friend could descri*e only in a*stractions3 consummation, transfiguration, union of cantraries, trancension of categories" 0hen we laughed, he would shrug and admit that he understood the *usiness no *etter than we, and thought it ridiculous, dreary, ossi*ly o*scene" 'But one of you,' he'd add with his wry smile, 'may *e the )ero destined to com lete the night-sea journey and *e one with )er" 7hances are, of course, you won't ma!e it' )e himself, he declared, was not e#en going to try; the whole idea re elled him; if we chose to dismiss it as an ugly fiction, so much the *etter for us; thrash, s lash, and *e merry, we were soon enough drowned" But there it was, he could not say how he !new or why he *othered to tell us, any more than he could say what would ha en after She and )ero, Shore and Swimmer, 'merged identities' to *ecome something *oth and neither" )e +uite agreed with me that if the issue of that magical union had no memory of the night-sea journey, for e&am le, it enjoyed a oor sort of immortality; e#en oorer if, as he rather imagined, a swimmer-hero lus a She e+ualed or *ecame merely another ,a!er of future night-seas and the rest, at such incredi*le e& ense of life" (his *eing the case- he was ersuaded it was- the merciful thing to do was refuse to artici ate; the genuine heroes, in his o inion,

were the suicides, and the hero of heroes would *e the swimmer who, in the #ery resence of the Other, refused )er roffered 'immortality' and thus ut an end to at least one cycle of catastro hes" ")ow we moc!ed him. Our moment came, we hurtled forth, retending to glory in the ad#enture, thrashing, singing, cursing, strangling, rationali6ing, rescuing, !illing, in#enting rules and stories and relationshi s, gi#ing u , struggling on, *ut dying all, and still in dar!ness, until only a *attered remnant was left to croa! 'Onward, u ward,' li!e a *itter echo" (hen they too fell silent- #ictims, I can only resume, of the last frightful wa#e- and the moment came when I also, utterly desolate and s ent, thrashed my last and ga#e myself o#er to the current, to sin! or float as might *e, *ut swim no more" 0hereu on, mar#elous to tell, in an instant the sea grew still. (hen warmly, gently, the great tide turned, *egan to *ear me, as it does now, onward and u ward will-I nill-I, li!e a flood of joy- and I recalled with dismay my dead friend's teaching" "I am not decei#ed" (his new emotion is )er doing; the desire that ossesses me is )er *ewitchment" 4ucidity asses from me; in a moment I'll cry '4o#e.' *ury myself in )er side, and *e 'transfigured"' 0hich is to say, I die already; this fellow trans orted *y assion is not I; I am he who a*jures and rejects the night-sea journey. I""""

"I am all lo#e" '7ome.' She whis ers, and I ha#e no will" "5ou who I may *e a*out to *ecome, whate#er 5ou are3 with the last twitch of my real self I *eg 5ou to listen" It is not lo#e that sustains me. No; though )er magic ma!es me *urn to sing the contrary, and though I drown e#en now for the *las hemy, I will say truth" 0hat has fetched me across this dreadful sea is a single ho e, gift of my oor dead comrade3 that 5ou may *e stronger-willed than I, and that *y sheer force of concentration I may transmit to 5ou, along with 5our official )eritage, a ri#ate legacy of awful recollection and negati#e resol#e" ,ad as it may *e, my dream is that some unimagina*le em*odiment of myself 1or myself lus )er if that's how it must *e2 will come to find itself e& ressing, in howe#er gar*led or radical a translation, some reflection of these reflections" If against all odds this comes to ass, may 5ou to whom, through whom I s ea!, do what I cannot3 terminate this aimless, *rutal *usiness. Sto 5our hearing against )er song. )ate lo#e. "Still ali#e, afloat, afire" 9arewell then my enultimate ho e3 that one may *e sun! for direst *las hemy on the #ery shore of the Shore" 7an it *e 1my old friend would smile2 that only utterest naysayers sur#i#e the night$ But e#en that were Sense, and there is no sense, only senseless lo#e, senseless

death" 0hoe#er echoes these reflections3 *e more courageous than their author. 'n end to night-sea journeys. ,a!e no more. 'nd forswear me when I shall forswear myself, deny myself, lunge into )er who summons, singing""" "'4o#e. 4o#e. 4o#e.'"