A Blind Man’s Lessons About Sight

Junji Yamamoto

Ms. De Stefano

LIT 2010-010

26 September 2014

Paper 1 Final Draft – Option 3

A Blind Man’s Lessons about Sight

        Growth is sort of like a cocktail; it takes the right ingredients and a perfect mix for the desired outcome. What usually starts out as a single ingredient, transforms into this delicious drink with the perfect recipe. Growth in humans is quite similar. In Raymond Carver’s short story, “Cathedral,” our nameless narrator introduces us to a situation that is about to happen within his house: his wife’s old friend, a blind man named Robert, is coming to stay the night. Right away, as a reader, it is sensed that our narrator is unenthused, and quite jealous, about the visit from this stranger. However, towards the end of the story, there is a change within the narrator. This blind man opened the narrator’s eyes, if only metaphorically. For individuals, it sometimes takes a lot for them to grow, a big push. The narrator experiences things out of his comfort zone throughout the entire narrative, and although it is not a big change, it is the beginning of what may be something big. For the narrator, it not only takes being out of his comfort zone, but a change in mind-set for him to be able to open his eyes and view things in a different light. Nonetheless, no one ever said change was easy, and naturally many people are opposed to it because it is difficult to find the motivation to adapt to something individuals are not used to. The narrator has a closed mind-set towards most things in his life, but by being pushed by the blind man, both physically and mentally, this initiates the change to begin with the narrator. Through the narrator’s lack of sensibility, “Cathedral” communicates the different possibilities of growth and change, that it is achievable through creative forms of communication.

Early in the story, the narrator demonstrates his lack of self-awareness towards both his wife and Robert, and in “Cathedral,” Carver is able point out the narrator’s superficiality which disallows him to grow. As for the narrator’s wife, she does not see Robert for ten years, but the narrator claims that “they made tapes and mailed them back and forth” (191). It is clear that Robert means a lot to her as they both put in the effort to keep in touch with their lives over the past decade. However, the narrator is insensitive of that, and even mentions that he “wasn’t enthusiastic about his visit” (191.) He is uncomfortable with the fact that Robert is blind, and even states, “a blind man in my house was not something I looked forward to” (191). More shockingly, the reason for his unenthused attitude stemmed from his idea of blindness that “came from the movies” (191), that the “blind moved slowly and never laughed” (191). He has a skewed definition for blind people, and gives so little respect to Robert, even abstaining from referring to him as such, merely as the blind man. Ironically, his quick-to-judge superficial interpretation metaphorically blinds himself and hedges his ability to transform, but not for long.

Moreover, the ability for the narrator to grow is often associated with being able to do things outside of what he is normally comfortable with. Through the first person point of view, it is evident that the narrator feels quite jealous toward Robert’s visit and is often possessive over his wife. It is as if the narrator already dislikes Robert before even meeting him. For instance, as time passes by, he speculates that when his wife went to pick Robert up, he had “nothing to do but wait” (193), and continues to say, “sure, I blamed him for that” (193). Carver emphasizes the narrator’s feeling of being left out, and this is important because he is accustomed to having his wife’s attention devoted to him. However, now that Robert will be staying the night with them, the narrator faces the challenge of moving out of his comfort zone. This challenge further reoccurs when he and Robert actually meet, but with a promising attempt to open up. Later on, after the narrator’s wife falls asleep, he and Robert continue talking, smoking, and watching television. As they get deeper into their conversation, the two of them begin to become more comfortable with each other. At one point, the narrator even realizes this and says, “I’m glad for the company” (198). He says it to be polite in conversation, but notices that he actually is, as grudgingly as he does. Sometime later, there is a broadcast program about cathedrals being played and because the two men are not talking for a while, the narrator has an opportunity to really observe the blind man. During this time, he also finds himself interested in the television program and suddenly has the urge to visually tell Robert what is happening on the screen. He attempts to describe the scenery by saying things like they’re “massive” and even “built of stone” (199). However, these are all standard descriptions that Robert can figure out on his own. Therefore, Robert asks to draw it for him, which the narrator does, and then Robert later instructs him to do something different.  He requests, “‘close your eyes now”’ (201), and the narrator also does this to his great surprise. While drawing this picture with his eyes closed, he experiences an epiphany. He says, “It was like nothing else in my life up to now” (201). By stepping out of his comfort zone, he was able to overcome his ignorant generalizations of a blind person, and that experiencing first-hand is the most effective way to grow and learn.  

In addition, as for the narrator, the act of creating art together with Robert emphasizes that growing as an individual becomes more effective when the both of them creatively communicate through physical contact. While the two men draw, by physically restricting the narrator, as if the blind man is physically restricted, it opens something in the narrator. In other words, by having no perspective, he gains perspective; he gains a new understanding, one akin to the blind man’s. He says at one point, “It was like nothing else in my life up to now” (201). For once, the narrator realizes what it is really like to be in Robert’s shoes. When they finish the drawing, he is asked to open his eyes, but he keeps his eyes closed. He continues by saying, “I thought I’d keep them that way for a little longer. I thought it was something I ought to do” (201). The narrator now can appreciate what he has, his ability of sight and a loving wife, and understands Robert. Although the narrator knew he was in his own house, he did not feel like he was “inside anything” (201). He does not feel confined at all, rather he experiences blindness and can relate to Robert. Perhaps due to the story ending right after the initial development within the narrator, it will never be known how impactful this change has been to him, but right then, in that moment, there has been exponential growth. Even though the story illustrates both the narrator and Robert is drawing the cathedral together, the story is not communicating that the drawing of the cathedral in itself is what transforms the narrator toward the end of the story; the story uses art as a medium for them to experience each other, and it is the bond that they share together that transforms them.

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