What's going on here, Gregory?

Who or what is lost in Lost, by Gregory Maguire? Probably wandering Winnie, or perhaps the troubled ghost (a la "Ghost Whisperer") that Winnie discovers in her cousin's flat near Hampstead Heath, London. In any case, it sounds from the title that the state of being lost will the central problem to be solved, or at least evaluated, in the novel. I am not so sure.

I am sure that a recurring theme in Lost has to do with being closed off (from external influence) versus being open (to external influence). Specifically, Winifred Rudge, from the start, tries to close herself off from the people around her and, therefore, from any impact those people might have on her. On p. 12, Maguire tells us that Winnie "hid in a herd of other bleary registrants...." Repeat--hid. She is intending to keep herself at a distance from Mabel Quackenbush, a coordinator for an adoption agency called Forever Families. This doesn't work out. A couple sentences later, "...one of the Boys ambushed her by the coat-rack" (Maguire 12). A couple pages later, "...her cover was blown" (14), and, not much later than that, Mabel Quackenbush says to Winnie--"You. Sorry. They ran you through the computer. They said you have to leave. No discussion." (17) Thus, despite trying to close herself off from the people at Forever Families, "they" have an impact on Winnie, anyway.

Winnie very briefly mentions her cousin, John Comestor, then leaps into her "mental map of London" (29). She briefly mentions him a short while later, then leaps back into her own thoughts: "She worked up some jovial remarks so she could enter with a flourish" (34). Again, her goal is to keep her distance from someone else, to prevent meaningful contact. She insists to herself that "[her] relationship with John wasn't a relationship. It was cousinhood, and stepcousinhood at that" (38). This sounds like self-deception, since "cousinhood" does not prevent meaningful contact. Meanwhile, if it was only "cousinhood, and stepcousinhood at that," why does John's absence unsettle her as much as it does? Probably, it is too late for Winnie to keep her distance from John. And--it becomes clear--it is.

If Winnie was bent on closing herself off, she would have immediately returned to Boston. Instead, she stays in the London flat and speaks with the construction workers that John has called in--a conversation that leads her to the resident ghost. At this point, she might have flown back to Boston. Instead, she visits another building tenant, Mrs. Maddingly, and says, "We hear a rapping noise...We thought you might be having some renovations done." (53) After an extensive visit with Mrs. Maddingly, Winnie goes to see Allegra Lowe, introduced earlier as "the lead so-called girlfriend, who did arts therapy of some sort...But [Winnie] liked standing apart from all that." (39) And yet, Winnie stands in Allegra's kitchen and says--"I arrived from Boston last night and John doesn't seem to be in residence. Do you know where he is?" (65) An extensive visit with Allegra Lowe leads to a visit with Allegra's neighbor, Rasia McIntyre--another extensive visit, which leads later on to meaningful contact with the clairvoyant Ritzi Ostertag and history professor Irv Hausserman. Far from closing herself off, Winnie is opening herself up to various outside influences.

Indeed, there's a part of Winnie that's always been open--her imagination. She studies a painting of an ancestor, Ozias Rudge, that John displays in his bedroom, and relates it back to her present--

The old man staggered toward the viewer, but his eyes were unfocused and his knees about to unhinge...he didn't know where John Comestor was, either...his eyes were trained inward, at some abomination in his own mental universe. (44-45)

Later, while talking with Mrs. Maddingly, part of Winnie, a novelist, is "channeling [her heroine] Wendy Pritzke, dialing her up" (55). It seems that Winnie is open to what is not rational, more so than she is willing to admit to others or herself, so that it is the history professor Irv Hausserman who points out to her, "Nothing odd in the supernatural as a field of interest. Nor in our sharing the interest. We did meet in a clairvoyant's salon, after all." (159)

After discovering John, Winnie unequivocally tells him, "There is a paranormal presence in the house...." (197) Winnie is so open to this paranormal presence that it takes her over and Winnie develops a second self, leading her to France. At the very end, Winnie is willing to go to Cambodia with one of the parents from Forever Families to bring back the baby the parents have adopted. Winnie cannot close herself off, after all.

Winnie is disoriented, but (I think) not lost.

What is going on here?

Before I write a commentary on another book, I'll pause for station identification--what is "Cognosco"? There are a couple things that it is not. 1) It is not book reviewing. I am not praising or attacking, recommending or rejecting a book. 2) It is not literary criticism. I am not studying a book through the lens of a literary theory, e.g., structuralism. Because I never developed an interest in the use of literary theory (a requirement in my English BA), I never developed strength in the use of literary theory, either. (N.B.: This weakness may be unfortunate. I just read about many kinds of literary criticism: formalist, structuralist, and deconstructionist criticism--involving discussion of the text only--sociological and feminist criticism--discussion of the text in relation to society and history--and mythological/archetypal and psychoanalytic criticism--discussion of the text in relation to religious beliefs, archetypal imagery, or psychoanalytic concepts. To name a few. Once again, ignorance is not bliss.)

So--what is this? The answer lies (surprise) in the Latin word "cognosco," which means "I am getting to know," as opposed to "scio" or "I know." I am a student of the book I have chosen to write something about, as opposed to an authority delivering a truth. First, I choose a book that has got my attention somehow. Then, I select an aspect of the book that especially interests me. In both cases, I am following up on a question once posed by a professor at the Boston University School of Education: "What interests you?" This may sound like a rather innocuous, commonplace question to you, but it revolutionized the way I looked at any text. Instead of selecting some obvious subject or theme in a book, whether or not it really engaged me, I zeroed in only on that part of a text that I really cared about. Thus, by honoring myself and my interests, I ended up writing about the text with enthusiasm and thoroughness, as opposed to dull dutifulness leading to something fragmented.

Which brings me back to this blog. Having selected a subject that really engages me, I take notes, complete with quotes, and put them all together in paragraphs of (more or less) Prussian orderliness. Then, as I am writing, "cognosco" occurs--
"I am getting to know" my subject, and, of course I hope, so are you!