Of Mice and Myth: John Steinbeck, Carl Jung, and The Epic of Gilgamesh

Image of statue of the Sumerian epic hero Gilgmesh

John Steinbeck’s short novel Of Mice and Men is a powerful exploration of isolation, disenfranchisement, and problems of social integration in an era of cultural fracture. Divided by class, race, and gender, its characters struggle to assimilate into the small social world of a 1930s California ranch. But Steinbeck’s story possesses a timeless dimension as well—one that bears examination in the context of the psychologist Carl Jung’s concept of the unconscious and of two ancient narratives: the Mesopotamian Epic of Gilgamesh and the Genesis story of Jacob and Essau.

Carl Jung and Of Mice and Men as Mythic Pattern

Some critics argue that the appeal of Of Mice and Men derives from its dramatization of universal themes, while others suggest that its continued popularity results from its depiction of the reality of the lives of migrant ranch workers: from the power of realism and relevance. However, there is at least one other way to explain the novel’s resonance with readers of every type. Certain formal elements open Of Mice and Men to a mode of criticism that is interested not in realism or in theme alone, but in the psychological relationship of theme to character, specifically the potent symbolism of the character pair comprised by George and Lennie.

Carl Jung’s psychoanalytical vocabulary and myth criticism offer insights into the significance of Steinbeck’s use of a traditional archetype in describing George and Lennie, suggesting that much of the novel’s power derives from an ancient mythic pattern. Employing the character-pair archetype also found in The Epic of Gilgamesh and the Genesis story of Jacob and Esau, Steinbeck invites us to consider a fundamental principle of personal psychology and myth narrative that is related to Carl Jung’s transcendent function of the unconscious.

Carl Jung’s psychoanalytical vocabulary and myth criticism offer insights into the significance of Steinbeck’s use of a traditional archetype in describing George and Lennie.

In this context, Of Mice and Men can be taken as an example of a specific psychological process, rendered artistically, that seeks to externalize the relationship between the conscious ego and the unconscious, a process Carl Jung describes in his 1916 essay “The Transcendent Function.” In fiction and poetry, as in myth, we see this process take place through narrative and metaphor. The purpose of the process is the achievement of  psychological balance. The tools of the process are mythogenes, the building blocks of myth—images drawn from the collective unconscious that facilitate communication between the conscious and unconscious parts of the mind. In art, the result of the process is often the creation of a myth narrative.

Along with a number of classic myth narratives that express this transcendent function in the acts of gods and heroes, we can point to works of modern fiction that represent mythic patterns such as that of the “unassimilated” man or woman estranged by nature from society. William Faulkner’s character Benjy in The Sound and the Fury and John Steinbeck’s Lennie in Of Mice and Men are examples, and Lennie shares similarities, both literal and thematic, with the character Chief in Ken Kesey’s One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest. The Bengy-Lennie-Chief character type is a modern iteration of an ancient archetype: the unassimilated outcast or alien who represents unacceptable or unwanted urges of the unconscious mind and who—despite friendships and affections—is unable to integrate successfully into society. He is the shepherd in an age of farming. He is mute in a time of great debate. He is the man without power over his personal history or his place in society.

The Epic of Gilgamesh, Genesis, and Steinbeck’s Story

Although Of Mice and Men is enriched by the Jungian archetype of the unassimilated man, the novel’s echo of The Epic of Gilgamesh and the Biblical story of Jacob and Esau is equally consequential. All three narratives depict a character pair in which one individual, the true hero, is bonded by birth and fate to the other, the unassimilated man. The parallels are striking in number, detail, and effect: on multiple levels, George and Lennie are Gilgamesh and Enkidu, Jacob and Esau. Though The Epic of Gilgamesh, the Genesis story, and Of Mice and Men differ in other ways, each focuses on a pair of characters who appear to be cut from the same cloth—the “cloth” of mythology that Carl Jung identified as the material of the collective unconscious.

In Of Mice and Men, Lennie is the character with the closest relationship to the Jungian concept of the unconscious. Driven by animal impulses that he is unable to control, Lennie enters the scene trailing behind George through the brush, “a huge man, shapeless of face, with large pale eyes, with wide, sloping shoulders [. . .] dragging his feet a little, the way a bear drags his paws” (Steinbeck 798). In the opening chapter, his behavior is likened to that of a carp and a horse; going to the river, he “drank with long gulps, snorting into the water like a horse” (Steinbeck 798). Animalistic images and associations are carried through to the climax of the novel in which Lennie’s uncontrolled violence is compared to that of a wild beast. In the end, he returns to the river, “as silently as a creeping bear moves” (Steinbeck 872). Throughout, he is drawn to small creatures—mice, puppies, and rabbits—and he threatens to flee the society of the ranch to live in a cave.

In Of Mice and Men, Lennie is the character with the closest relationship to the Jungian concept of the unconscious.

Enkidu in Gilgamesh and Esau in Genesis share these qualities. Born in the wilderness, Enkidu is described as having a body that is “rough” and “covered with matted hair” (Gilgamesh 63). Just as Lennie is attracted to the solitude of the river, Enkidu “had joy of the water with the herds of wild game” (Gilgamesh 63). Like Lennie, Enkidu is physically strong but mentally unprepared for social survival (Gilgamesh 65); his bond with the animals of the wild is broken when a harlot teaches him the ways of society (65). Arriving in the city, he establishes a bond of brotherhood with Gilgamesh and becomes tasked with the guardianship of the hero, who is the king of Uruk. Genesis describes Esau similarly—a hairy man, a shepherd and hunter at home with wildlife and wilderness (Tanakh 38). When Jacob wants to pass as Esau, his older brother, he puts goat hide on his hands and the neck (Tanakh 41). When Esau complains to Jacob that he is hungry, he demands that Jacob give him some of the “red stuff,” trading his birthright for a bowl of stew (Tanakh 38). Esau’s appetite for “red stuff” is echoed in Lennie’s demands for ketchup in Of Mice and Men (Steinbeck 804). Like Enkidu and Lennie, Esau is undone by a woman (Tanakh 43).

However, in the pairing of an unassimilated man with a heroic companion in Genesis, The Epic of Gilgamesh, and Of Mice and Men, relationship transcends individual identity. George and Lennie’s mythic significance lies in the nature of their archetypal connection with one another. As characters, they are both complementary and opposite, two halves of a codified relationship and two parts of a single unit. Their antecedents in the older stories—Jacob and Esau, Gilgamesh and Enkidu—are brothers. Steinbeck’s pair wears the same clothes (Steinbeck 797-798) and speaks a single voice (Steinbeck 812, 815), brothers in behavior if not by birth.

In the pairing of an unassimilated man with a heroic companion in Genesis, The Epic of Gilgamesh, and Of Mice and Men, relationship transcends individual identity.

Of the two, George is sharper and worldlier, “small and quick, dark of face, with restless eyes and sharp strong features” (Steinbeck 798). Just as Jacob in Genesis conducts business shrewdly (Tanakh 47), George proves capable of negotiating, manipulating, and conducting business with surprising skill (Steinbeck 802, 842). Gilgamesh, too, is savvy, smoothing the way for his quest by manipulating the powers that be in Uruk (Gilgamesh 72). The figures of George, Jacob, and Giglamesh dominate each of the fraternal relationship, not by seniority but through their ability to integrate with society and play by its rules.

While the less adept, unassimilated character remains a social weight on his socially skillful partner, this drag is accepted by both parties. Though “Lennie’s a God damn nuisance most of the time” (Steinbeck 41), George feels the obligation to protect him at any cost. For Jacob, Esau represents a function of reality itself, unavoidable and equally permanent. The fear of Esau felt by Jacob is significant and suggests Carl Jung’s concept of the Shadow self. Likewise, Lennie and Enkidu can be seen in terms of fear and Shadow—Jung’s term for the suppressed but active elements of the unconscious (Jung 146). The tie that binds each pair of characters is deep, dark, and definitive. Viewed in social terms, the unassimilated man in all three stories prevents his more socially adept partner from fully entering into and succeeding in the world. The psychological dynamic that results creates conflict: the socialized character must eliminate his animalistic, amoral, and unassimilated Shadow self to achieve complete social integration.

Viewed in social terms, the unassimilated man in all three stories prevents his more socially adept partner from fully entering into and succeeding in the world.

But the dominant partner has other gifts as well. George, a “smart little guy” (Steinbeck 825), is able to read the signs in a situation and, in a way, prophesy the future. Similarly, both Jacob and Gilgamesh possess the power of divination, interpreting dreams (Gilgamesh 78) and seeing visions—the stairway to heaven—while wrestling with angels (Tanakh 43, 52). Early in Of Mice and Men, George predicts trouble with Curley’s wife (Steinbeck 820), repeatedly voicing his anxiety about the probable outcome: “She’s gonna make a mess. They’s gonna be a bad mess about her” (Steinbeck 835). Though this sounds to us like common sense, no other character in Of Mice and Men “gets it” as George does. The other men in the bunkhouse recognize Curley’s wife as a threat, but none sees or says what seems inevitable.

The final vision described in The Epic of Gilgamesh is particularly remarkable in relation to George’s prophetic power in Of Mice and Men. Lamenting over his dying brother, Gilgamesh cries, “The dream was marvelous but the terror was great; we must treasure the dream whatever the terror; for the dream has shown that misery comes at last to the healthy man . . . .” (Gilgamesh 93). In this way Gilgamesh reads the last dream of Enkidu in which Enkidu is approached by a woman who questions him before awakening “like a man drained of blood who wanders alone in a waste of rushes; like one whom the bailiff has seized and his heart pounds with terror” (Gilgamesh 92-93). In narrative detail and poetic imagery, this passage presages the climactic conclusion of  Of Mice and Men: Lennie flees after being questioned by a woman; terrified, he moves alone through the brush along the Salinas River. His dream of tending rabbits in a happy future with George dies, like Lennie himself—and like Enkidu, who leaves his bereaved partner Gilgamesh in “misery,” muttering about failed dreams.

Of Mice and Men: Social Commentary or Timeless Myth?

Applying Jungian psychoanalytical theory to Of Mice and Men is not the most common critical approach to John Steinbeck’s most widely read novel. The social realism of the text and its topical themes relating to migrant labor, disenfranchisement, and the American Dream typically take precedence over readings that emphasize the work’s psychological elements, raising this question: Can a work of social realism be read as myth or as psychological allegory?

In response, one might argue that the simplicity of setting, character, and dialog—as well as the deliberate use of types and stereotypes (racial, gendered, professional, intellectual, and class-based)—invites both political and psychological/symbolic interpretation. As noted by John Steinbeck’s sometime-friend, the mythologist Joseph Campbell, formalized tropes of character and setting are precisely the stuff of myth (Campbell 12-15). As much as Of Mice and Men may be read as a social-realist text, therefore, it is realistic only insofar as it is interested in the social and political issues of its era. In style and formula it falls neatly into the timeless categories of symbolic and myth literature, forms of narrative in which the application of Carl Jung’s insights are particularly fruitful.

Can a work of social realism be read as myth or as psychological allegory?

The archetypal pair represented by George and Lennie in Of Mice and Men evokes two principles of Jungian psychoanalytic theory: the Shadow and the transcendent function, concepts related to the individual ego’s relationship with the unconscious. As in the example of Jacob and Esau, the unassimilated character is associated with impulsive, irrational, and anti-social behavior. Like Lennie, Esau represents the Jungian Shadow, characterized by “uncontrolled or scarcely controlled emotions [. . .] like a primitive” and “singularly incapable of moral judgment” (Jung 146). The individual ego both desires and fears communion with this dark element of the unconscious: in the end the ego wants to exorcise the Shadow in an ultimately transcendent function.

If Lennie is the submerged Shadow, George is the ruling ego—aware, socialized and civilized—for whom the threat of the unconscious will exist until the transcendent function is enacted and the Shadow has been purged by being brought to light. According to Carl Jung, this takes place when the two forces, ego and Shadow, achieve a direct and “compensatory relation” to one another (Jung 294). The means may be aesthetic, as the ego attempts to formalize the formless unconscious and the repressed unconscious attempts to “rise” into conscious mind. In this way the transcendent function “manifests itself as a quality of conjoined opposites” (Jung 298); the goal is for the ego to find the “courage to be oneself” (Jung 300), a state of psychological singleness that George accomplishes when he shoots Lennie.

If Lennie is the submerged Shadow, George is the ruling ego—aware, socialized and civilized—for whom the threat of the unconscious will exist until the transcendent function is enacted.

Thus George and Lennie can be interpreted as two parts of one “mind,” symbolically undergoing the necessary process of overcoming a latent set of “wild” impulses that impede full social integration. As long as George keeps Lennie with him, he will never “stay in a cat house all night long” or “set in a pool room and play cards or shoot pool” (Steinbeck 804). Impulsive, ungovernable, and “incapable of moral judgment,” Lennie holds George back from normal social activity. When Candy shows George the dead body of Curley’s wife, George’s social future in the predictable aftermath is his first concern. When Candy asks George if the plan to buy their own ranch is off, George replies by forecasting a future in which he can “stay all night in some lousy cat house. Or I’ll set in some pool room till ever’body goes home” (Steinbeck 868).

But Lennie’s representation of the unconscious goes beyond his relationship with George. Uniquely within the world of Of Mice and Men, Lennie has the ability to bring out the impulsiveness latent in other characters and to engage them in conversations about dreams, resentments, and other emotions. His conversation with Crooks demonstrates this trait, as Crooks breaks with social convention to let Lennie into his room and explore hidden feelings that he suppresses with everyone else (Steinbeck 849). A similar dynamic characterizes Lennie’s conversation with Curley’s wife when she divulges things that she “ain’t told [. . .] to nobody before” and “ought’n to” (Steinbeck 863). Not only is Lennie incapable of self-control; he inspires this incapacity, however briefly, in others as well.

Not only is Lennie incapable of self-control; he inspires this incapacity, however briefly, in others as well.

Duality of mind and will is a common theme in mythology and in modern literature. Steinbeck’s use of the archetypal character pair in Of Mice and Men dramatizes this duality, offering us a deeper understanding of its meaning. As in much American writing of the 1930s, social repression and human disenfranchisement function socially and politically as facts of contemporary life. But they are also internalized. Ironically, the humble American dream of property ownership is aligned in the narrative with irrational, unconscious urges, with the primitive and undeveloped Shadow represented by Lennie. To survive in the hard world of Of Mice and Men, characters like Crooks suppress their desire for friendship in favor of being accepted, abstractly and impersonally, by the group. Characters like Curley’s wife are shunned and isolated because they are associated with desires that the group considers taboo. Lennie, unassimilated and unsocialized, accesses these suppressed elements in others, bringing them briefly into the open until he can be eliminated.

Ironically, the humble American dream of property ownership is aligned in the narrative with irrational, unconscious urges, with the primitive and undeveloped Shadow represented by Lennie.

On a literary and functional level, Steinbeck’s archetypal character pair serve as a vehicle for demonstrating social values and for considering a compelling question: What must be eliminated from consciousness—from the ego personality—in order for an isolated individual to integrate with society? Steinbeck’s answer is painfully clear. As one partner dies, a path opens for the survivor. In The Epic of Gilgamesh, the survivor is made king. In Genesis he becomes the father of nations. Unlike Genesis and Gilgamesh, however, Of Mice and Men constitutes a sad and somber commentary on group values and cultural norms. To survive, a man must put away his innocence and his love for “nice things.” He must be hardhearted and ruthless. He must not dream.

What must be eliminated from consciousness—from the ego personality—in order for an isolated individual to integrate with society? Steinbeck’s answer is painfully clear.

By the time Of Mice and Men ends, George has acknowledged and accepted the severity of this requirement, proving his emotional and psychological fitness for social survival in a difficult environment. His world is heartless, but he can cope: He has eliminated his unacceptable impulses—embodied in Lennie—by slaying them. If we accept the literary critic Alfred Kazin’s axiom that “psychology is always less true than art,” we can hope, at least, that applying Jungian psychoanalytical criticism to Of Mice and Men does not lower Steinbeck’s art to the level of psychology but raises psychology to the level of art. Seen in this light, the power of Steinbeck’s most popular novel can be located, in large part, in the writer’s use of mythic archetypes to explore a psychological truth.

Works Cited

Anonymous. The Epic of Gilgamesh. London: Penguin Books. 1972. Print.

Anonymous. Tanakh. Philadelphia: The Jewish Publication Society. 1985. Print.

Campbell, Joseph. The Hero with a Thousand Faces. 3rd Edition. Novato, California: New World Library. 1949. Print.

Faulkner, William. The Sound and the Fury. New York: Random House. 1929. Print.

Jung, Carl. “The Transcendent Function.” The Portable Jung. New York: Penguin Books. 1976. 273-300. Print.

Kazin, Afred. The Inmost Leaf. New York: Harcourt Brace Jovanovich. 1941. Print.

Kesey, Ken. One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest. New York: Penguin Books. 1962. Print.

Steinbeck, John. Of Mice and Men. Steinbeck: Novels and Stories 1932-1937. New York: Literary Classics of the United States. 1994. 795-878. Print.

Eric Matthew Martin About Eric Matthew Martin

Eric Matthew Martin owns and operates Sagebrush Café: Coffee & Art House in Quartz Hill, California, a desert community at the southern edge of the Mojave Desert. He is a teacher and writer and contributed to the book It’s Not Only Rock and Roll, an investigation of how philosophy inspired modern music and art. His play Hunger for Paradise was a New West Playwrights Competition winner.

Comments

  1. Roy Bentley says:

    Amazing stuff. (I’m still stunned!) Love this: “To survive, a man must put away his innocence and his love for “nice things.” He must be hardhearted and ruthless. He must not dream.”

    Thanks so much!

    • Eric M. Martin says:

      Your comments are very much appreciated, Roy!

      The lines you point to, I think, speak to the idea that although OF MICE AND MEN is not exactly a morally uplifting work, it is nonetheless truly invigorating and even challenging – especially when seen in a Jungian context that takes account of Steinbeck’s distinctive, archetypal choices of character.

      As in so much Steinbeck, to dream in OF MICE AND MEN seems to be something of a moral act. I hope it’s not going too far out on a limb to say that the outcome of the act of dreaming and the fate of the Dream both ultimately point to troubling questions about moral integrity, psychological integrity and the potential costs of social integration.

      Can we say that the book’s mythic resonances generate a sense that these questions may connect Steinbeck’s work to certain fundamental (and, perhaps, Jungian) considerations of man and society and highlight a formal trend toward mythic archetypes in Steinbeck’s work?

      Thanks again!

  2. Wes Stillwagon says:

    I sincerely appreciate Mr. Martin’s essay connecting Steinbeck and Jung in the writer’s “Of Mice And Men”. Examining the philosophical relationship between two of my personal heros has been an interest for decades. Some related thoughts from my examination are presented elsewhere on this website. Since neither Jung or Steinbeck acknowledged each other in their writings attempting to connect them philosophically demands very serious study and knowledge acquired only through personal testing of hypothesis and examining the results — no easy task for any philosopher. Of course there would be considerable advantage in dialog with
    others with similar interests. Simply enhancing personal perceptoins, judgments, and conclusions by considering another’s point of view is an obvious benefit. My comments on the essay are presented here to encourage scholarly debate and dialog.
    In a similar review, I was very dissappointed in Dr. Shillinglaw’s (my opinion) erroneous attributations to Jung terms and concepts. For example I do not know where she acquired referrence to Jung and the concept of “the third person” or his mentioning “self-actualization” (see 1942 paper by Abraham Maslow’). There is no record of him mentioning the terms anywhere including in the General Index (Collected Works Vol. 20). I’ve read every Jung book (they are on my bookshelves for examination) and neither term may be found anywhere. Additionally her bazaar application of Jung’s functional types and attitudes in her Carol and John Steinbeck book led me to the conclusion that she actually studied very little Jung and therefore I could not distinguish between her fiction and presentation of verifiable facts. Part of the problem in such an examination is that virtually all Analytical Psychology text by Jungians is developed as reference for clinical psychology and therapy and not, as Steinbeck so eloquently applied to everyday individuals in their life struggles, humor, relationships, and the community. The latter perspective is absolutely necessary for a scholarly examination of the philosophical conjunction of Jung and Steinbeck. I was fortunate to have applied the concepts and models in my training managemenbt and instructional design career.
    Martin’s third paragraph begins with “Carl Jung’s psychoanalytical vocabulary and myth criticism offer insights into the significance of Steinbeck’s use of a traditional archetype in describing George and Lennie, suggesting that much of the novel’s power derives from an ancient mythic pattern.”
    This may be a bit picky, but what the hell, the term, “traditional archetype” may incorrectly qualify the term “archetype”. There is nothing “traditional” about an archetype. They existed before any tradition and are natural, not mythical facts.
    I am confused about the writer’s phrase “Jung’s psychoanalytical vocabulary and myth.” Jung was an empiricist (it is on his tombstone) — as scientifically minded as any scientists, and perhaps more so than most). I may be wrong in my assumption that this implication that his work produced no more than a lexicon and and myth, if that is the writer’s intent is wrong. If he doesn’t mean this then what does he mean? Secondly “psychoanalytical” is Freudian and not a Jungian term. Myth patterns are inspired or formed by archetypes. The book’s appeal may be a product of archetypal unconscious stimulation that may inspire libido (not an exclusively sexual term) and for instance may cause the “I cannot put the book down” reader response. My fondness for Steinbeck I believe is accountable to this phenomenon and I believe Steinbeck knew its potential. Archetypes like the Tao are not definable or perceptable– they may only be analytically defined by what they do, do-not do, and etc.
    In paragraph 5, Martin states: “In this context, Of Mice and Men can be taken as an example of a specific psychological process, rendered artistically, that seeks to externalize the relationship between the conscious ego and the unconscious…” No such thing as an “unconscious ego”. Martin continues, “The transcendant functioa process Carl Jung describes in his 1916 essay “The Transcendent Function.”
    “Of the Transcendant function, Jung states, “Is the mediatory product remains intact, it forms the raw material for a process not of dissolution but of construction, in which thesis and antithesis both play their part. In this way it becomes a new content that governs the whole attitude, putting an end to the division and forcing the energy of the opposites into a common channeL The standstill is overcome and life can flow on with renewed power towards new goals.
    Jung:”I have called this process in its totality the transcendent function, “function” being here understood not as a basic function but as a complex function made up of other functions, ‘and “transcendent” not as denoting a metaphysical quality but mere¬ly the fact that this function facilitates a transition from one attitude to another. The raw material shaped by thesis and antithesis, and in the shaping of which the opposites are united. is the living symboL Its profundity of meaning is inherent in the raw material itself, the very stuff of the psyche, transcending time and dissolution; and its configuration by the opposites en¬sures its sovereign power over all the psychic functions” CW 6 p480.
    I do not agree with Martin’s conclusion and believe his conclusion is a result of a misunderstanding of the concept and the influence of the Transcendant Function that has little directly to do with integrating the ego and the unconscious.
    Martin uses the term “conscious Ego and the Unconscious.” For the sake of clarity, it should be understood that there is no such thing as an unconscoius ego so it is not necessary to employ the term in that fashion. And the Transcendant function is a purposeful force between psychological functions and not between conscious, the ego and the unconscious that are psychological objects and not functions. Distinguishing between a psychological function and a psychological object are extremely important distinction to understanding Jungian philosophy. It is important to distinguish between objects and functions in scientific psychology as it is in computer programming.
    Martin continues: “The purpose of the process is the achievement of psychological balance. The tools of the process are mythogenes, the building blocks of myth—images drawn from the collective unconscious that facilitate communication between the conscious and unconscious parts of the mind. In art, the result of the process is often the creation of a myth narrative.”
    In reality the “transcendant function” is a guiding function for other psychological functions and attitudes. It is sort of a function – subfunction relationship like in computer programming. It is not a bridge between the ego and the unconscious. Ultimately it may improve the relationship or integrate individual psychological objects as it is a psyche tool in the process for wholeness or individuation and not one used directly in bridging the conscious and unconscious. Furthermore, understanding Jungian psychology is improved if one doesn’t consider the psyche’s area confined within the “mind.” The individual human psyche extends to the toe-tips and likely beyond what appears to be physical limits. It is a handicap to believe that our perceptions, judgments, and conclusions are housed within what we refer to as the brain or mind.

    Beyond the Chauldean (Mathematici) development of Astrological tools, I am not familiar with Sumerian myths so I cannot comment. If Mr. Martin’s conclusions on Jung/Steinbeck in Of Mice And Men are incorrect then his conclusions in this regard are also wrong.
    I have a lot more to say on the paper but out of time and will power.
    Respectfully
    Wes

    • Eric M. Martin says:

      Thank you for your considered comments. Your dedication to the work of Carl Jung is clear and considerable.

      In all good humor, I have to say – let’s not miss the forest for the trees here, Wes.

      You raise a number of semantic objections to certain terms used in the article. In the main, it seems that all of your points of contention are essentially terminological. Please, correct me if I am mistaken here.

      I will certainly grant you that the application of psychological terminology to non-psychological subjects (or indirectly psychological subjects) invites the kind of “proper use,” terminological debate that you are raising here. I am not convinced, however, that these critiques accurately challenge the premise, arguments, or conclusions of the paper.

      At the same time, you will get no argument from me about the importance of using terms with accuracy. In this setting, terminology does go beyond a po-tay-to vs. po-tah-to relativism.

      However, in meeting each of your objections and offering rebuttal, we would be pursuing a debate as to the flexibility of these terms as much as we might be debating their definitions. Such a semantic debate has its place, but, again, this conversational path is only indirectly related to the efforts, arguments and general thrust of the article. I stand by all terminology in this article on the simple grounds of general intelligibility. (And while the narrowest views of these terms may be most helpful in clinical situations the same may not be true in all situations.)

      I’d like to reassure you that the use of the phrase “Jung’s psychoanalytical vocabulary” is not an attempt to reduce Jung’s work to a mere dictionary of terms. The phrase is meant to convey the notion that, in addition to the purely psychological applications of his work, Jung’s ideas offer enticing applications to studies outside the proper boundaries of psychology. And in this way Jung’s ideas might be seen as a figurative collection – a vocabulary of ideas – available for use to scholars of literature.

      (And, as an aside: To say that “psychoanalytical” is a Freudian term, as you do, while true, is also misleading. Was Jung not the first president of the International Psychoanalytical Association? “Psychoanalytical” is a term MAINLY attributable to Freud, yes. But as a term it is not ONLY attributable to Freud.)

      Regarding the “Transcendent Function,” I would respectfully suggest that your extensive quotation from Jung’s work on this notion tends to agree with and support the conclusions presented in the paper (that George and Lennie from OF MICE AND MEN might be fruitfully read as a “thesis and antithesis” pair and that these characters can be seen to metaphorically represent Jung’s “opposites” as he discusses them in that passage).

      Thus, in my view, Jung’s conjecture offers validation to the argument that George and Lennie, like other archetypal character pairs, might be seen as enacting the Transcendent Function, albeit in a distinctly metaphorical context.

      Thanks again for your thoughtful comments.

      • Wes Stillwagon says:

        Eric (if I may), I cannot tell you what a joy and privelige I feel regarding the establishment of this dialog. I enjoy less than a handful of friends (scholar, Patricia Stringfello,Social Ecologist, Jim Kent, and Education Consultant Ted Reed) to talk with some depth about this stuff. As a result of their intelligence, challenges, views through peepholes other than my own, hones feedback, and etc. I cherish their presence in my life. I believe our dialog will encourage others to consider a related study and jump into the fray. Perhaps as a result we may learn something. I am very grateful to you for the opportunity you provided.
        You say, “You raise a number of semantic objections to certain terms used in the article. In the main, it seems that all of your points of contention are essentially terminological. Please, correct me if I am mistaken here.”
        Regarding your “Jung’s psychoanalytical vocabulary and myth” statement”, as one may see with only a casual examination of the field of psychology in the USA, Jung has all been forgotten along with mental giants such as William James whose ideas strongly influenced Jung. Because of the lack of exposure to basic Jungian concepts especially regarding the individual human psyche in favor of statistically based bell-curve psychology or “behaviorism” (ala B. F. Skinner, et al) it may be understood from your statement that Jung produced only a list of terms and packet of myths. And he certainly doesn’t deserve this conclusion whether you meant to imply this or not.
        I respectfully disagree that my opinions and conclusions in the critique are products of my misunderstanding of your terminology. I believe that how you applied terms in the essay reflects a misunderstanding as Jung applied them to such an extent that it would cause confusion to a reader beginning such a study. For instance:
        You say (I’m mercifully Ignoring “vocabulary and myth” thing and the use of the Freudian “psychoanalysis”, LOL), “Carl Jung’s psychoanalytical vocabulary and myth criticism offer insights into the significance of Steinbeck’s use of a traditional archetype in describing George and Lennie, suggesting that much of the novel’s power derives from an ancient mythic pattern.”
        I say, Like Tao, archetypes are themselves not directly visable, definable, describable, and therefore impossible to use even by writers including John Steinbeck. Archetypes may be the foundation behind the pattern you describe but the pattern, myth, and etc. are not the archetype. While this may seem like a petty, nit picking distinction, it is extremely important to further understanding Jungian thought especially as it was applied by Steinbeck (and others such as Star Trek creator, Gene Roddenberry, etc).
        You say, In this context, Of Mice and Men can be taken as an example of a specific psychological process, rendered artistically, that seeks to externalize the relationship between the conscious ego and the unconscious, a process Carl Jung describes in his 1916 essay “The Transcendent Function.”
        I believe your use of the term “conscious ego” may lead a student to assume that there is an unconsious ego, and of course there is not. Furthermore I do not understand or believe your conclusion that Jung’s “Transcendant Function” serves the purpose you claim, I.e. externalizing the relationship between the ego and the unconscious at all. I believe you misunderstand the concept of the transcendant function. I respectfully suggest reading Jung’s Collected Works, Vol. 6, pages 479 and 480.
        You say, The “Transcendent Function.” In fiction and poetry, as in myth, we see this process take place through narrative and metaphor. The purpose of the process is the achievement of psychological balance. The tools of the process are mythogenes, the building blocks of myth—images drawn from the collective unconscious that facilitate communication between the conscious and unconscious parts of the mind. In art, the result of the process is often the creation of a myth narrative.”
        I say it is impossible to use the transcendant function as you describe in developing or creating anything. To beat my point do death, it is a function and not an object as I pointed out and at some point its influence upon the other functions (its purpose), cannot be utilized or even completely understood. Therefore it is not possible to use in creative writing – it does not exist on its own but is a part of a psychological complex. Since it can only be visualized as part of a complex working within the unconscious, it would be impossible to distinguish between that function and the functions it influences or guides. I’d love to see a rationale argument against my point here.
        My objection to your further use of the term, “Transcendant Function” should be understood given the previous paragraph.
        Conclusion: I do not believe our differences are a product of terminology differences at all.

        Respectfully,
        Wes

        • Eric M. Martin says:

          Wes,

          I appreciate your expertise regarding Carl Jung’s work and, via this expertise, you bring up an interesting dynamic for discussion. First I would like to clarify that I never suggested any misunderstanding on your part. Rather, I think I’ve suggested that we have a situation of disagreement on how to employ certain terms and concepts in discourse.

          So, I’d ask you to please recognize that I’ve offered no disrespect. (I certainly never intended to.) I do, of course, offer an honest disagreement with some of your contentions and I am happy to discuss these points here.

          Your latest comments brought home the idea to me that we may be debating across discourses/disciplines. Where I am coming from a literary studies view of Jungian theory, you are coming from a clinical psychology position. This difference is summed up in our respective attitudes toward metaphor (and the usefulness of a somewhat metaphorical/symbolic/literary reading of Jungian theory).

          In a clinical psychology setting, the narrowest views of Jungian terminology may be optimal at all times. I’d be willing to grant you that. This means that your opinion supporting a strictly limited reading of the Transcendental Function is probably validated by this clinical context.

          In a literary setting, however, there is every precedent for a more flexible and symbolic reading of Jung’s theories. Thinking metaphorically on Jung’s writing is, in fact, the basis of a long-standing branch of discourse in literary studies (i.e., myth criticism/archetypal criticism).

          Thus in your objections to the use of certain terms (like “archetype”) and treatments of concepts (like the Transcendent Function), you are actually questioning far more than just this paper’s approach to Jungian theory. You are questioning the approaches taken by Joseph Campbell and Northrop Frye, two of the most renowned proponents of Jungian theory in the area of literary studies. (And that is just naming two out of who knows how many…)

          In his most famous work of literary criticism, ANATOMY OF CRITICISM, Northrop Frye indexes references to no fewer than 25 mentions of “archetype and archetypal criticism.” Indeed, his book features a major essay entitled “Archetypal Criticism.” As David H. Richter points out in THE CRITICAL TRADITION, “critics like Northrop Frye [believe] the artist expresses ‘the dream of mankind,’ which is contained not in the collective unconscious but in a literary tradition that speaks through us all” (5). The precedent for this paper’s approach to Jungian theory (and its attendant terminology) is both clear and thorough.

          With this in mind, it is hard to feel any compunction about the uses of these terms as they appear in my article. Rather than presuming so much as to defend Northrop Frye’s use of Jungian terminology and (that of Joseph Campbell as well), the wiser path seems to be for me to stand behind these well-known and highly regarded scholars and let them defend the approach used in this article by dint of their remarkable statures and publishing histories vis a vis Jungian theory.

          Going one step further, though unnecessary at this point, I would also note a definition of archetypes that comes from Jung’s PSYCHOLOGY AND RELIGION: “Forms and images of a collective nature which occur practically all over the earth as constituents of myth and at the same time as autochthonous, individual products of unconscious origin.” The term “archetypes” as it is used in the paper adheres to this definition of archetype-as-form-and/or-image and falls also well within the established sense of the term as it is used in the work of Northrop Frye and others.

          Again, you may choose to disagree with the idea that any flexibility whatsoever is appropriate regarding certain terms that appear in Jungian theory due to your position within a context of clinical psychology.

          For my part, I have to insist that more flexible and sometimes symbolic uses of these terms in a literary studies context are entirely appropriate, and historically documented, and part-and-parcel to an established mode of scholarly discourse.

          Although it seems we will continue to disagree on this subject, I would say, ultimately, that we may both be right according to the lights of our respective disciplines. And, anticipating a retort along the lines of, “we can’t both be right,” I would simply and humbly suggest otherwise. We can both be right. Maybe we can’t both be right within the same discursive setting, but we can both be right in respectively differing discursive settings.

          Also, it seems worth pointing out that if Carl Jung were truly forgotten in this century we would not be having this debate.

          I wholeheartedly agree that Jung’s ideas and his legacy should not be reduced to a list of terms. Though we probably will have to agree to disagree on many of these issues of Jungian semantics, we can certainly find full agreement in our mutual belief that Jung still has something to offer us in today’s world.

  3. Wes Stillwagon says:

    Sorry, regarding Lennie, I believe Lennie’’s behavior is a result of a diminished psychological capacity His condition was not really one that can only be marginally improved via influence of therapy and obviously by attention to the transcendant function. His condition was much like Hazel’s in Cannery Row – I believe that his relationship to Mac was similar as well. His potential for indviduation would be very limited because of mental damage or congenital psychological weaknesses. I believe it would have been impossible for Lenny to have achieved a Ricketts“breaking through”.

  4. Dear Eric…..and others who read and commented on this tremendous piece. I am now going to be an avid reader of this site, thanks to Eric mentioning it to me. I’m 61 and read Of Mice and Men at an early age, as my older brother and I were classic intellectuals and bookworms of the era, i.e. pre-computer age. I subsequently then read everything i could get my hands on by Steinbeck and also loved Jung, Kesey, Joseph Campbell and so many other deeply inspirational, socially, psychologically and philosophically relevant works. I’d set aside an hour to read Eric’s piece, but after its ending, I felt compelled to read the comments from the other outstanding readers, thinkers and writers on this site. Time flew by (more than one hour). so this time, I’ll enter the arena with a simple THANKS!!! My brother recently passed, and would have loved a site of this nature, as he and I have graduated to reading a lot of great work on the internet, adding to our super-vast hard copy library.

  5. Wes Stillwagon says:

    Response 062614
    Eric, My goal in this dialog is to raise interest in the nearly forgotten humanity enriching work of Carl Jung especially as it was deftly applied by John Steinbeck. While my responses may appear argumentative, I can assure you I fully appreciate the opportunity to share this virtual debate platform with you or anyone who would wish to jump in. I also believe we will both be richer as a result of the dialog. Anyone following the thread will as well. So thank you from the bottom of my heart for the opportunity. Regarding the apparent tension between points in our dialog, a Jungian once told me that such an interpersonal dynamic, like stronger tension in an archer’s bow, produces the greatest result. On to the dialog
    You say that at the heart of our dialog you believe, “we may be debating across discourses/disciplines. Where I am coming from a literary studies view of Jungian theory, you are coming from a clinical psychology position.”
    I say, given the nature of my responses one may conclude that I am coming from a clinical perspective. I am not. While I’ve attended many classes over the years with clinicians and therapists my interest in Jung has never been in pursuit of clinical or therapy work. At times when I was in such classes, I told some fellow students with a sense of humor that I’d rather eat worms than be an therapist. I should note that I met many gifted and dedicated therapists in the classes. My Jung study began while I was an electronic technician at RCA in the mid 1960s. A co-worker spotted me reading Suzuki’s Zen book in a break area. He suggested Jung but pronounce the name and as a result I spent a couple of monhs looking for books by Carl Y-o-u-n-g.
    In 1968 I was promoted to an instructor/instructional developer. As a result of the experience I became curious as to why some trainees, given the same instruction, guidance, and encouragement failed at tasks while others excelled. I also wanted to know how my instructional style impacted the trainer-trainee relationship. I wondered how the Jungian shadow archetype influenced the relationship. I went to a behaviorist (education) oriented college) and found it lacking in the practical study of the individual – a skill where Steinbeck excelled. College life in psychology under the instruction of behaviorists was no pleasant experience as you may imagine. I was already three years into Jungian study by the time I went to night classes. My point is that I am not a clinician but a very pragmatic student of Jung who applied what he learned in doing needs analysis, developing instructional proposal, developing learning experiences, and critique. I didn’t realize Steinbeck’s Jungian influence until the mid 1980s. In fact, my Jungian experience is/was focused only on very practical non-clinician matters.
    To continue within this sub-thread, you say, “In a clinical psychology setting, the narrowest views of Jungian terminology may be optimal at all times. I’d be willing to grant you that. This means that your opinion supporting a strictly limited reading of the Transcendental Function is probably validated by this clinical context.”
    I say given how many intellectuals consider Jung unscientific or not empirical I always try to assure non-esoteric language in my Jung related writings and correspondence. I believe that Ricketts and Steinbeck would appreciate my personal language standards as it would appeal to their “is thinking” considerations. My understanding of the transcendant function specifically as a controlling or supervising function over the other functions is as Jung intended and specified in his writings — not only in support of therapy but to general psychology knowledge. Ultimately the Transcendant Function may improve the conjunction between conscious and unconscious but this is a consequential affect and not directly intended as you imply. The result would be a product of its influence on the other functions. To conclude anything else produces confusion to the understanding of already difficult concepts and offers the field no benefit. I believe we must keep in mind that we are using the human intellect to examine and discuss the human psyche.
    In the same light you continue, “In a literary setting, however, there is every precedent for a more flexible and symbolic reading of Jung’s theories. Thinking metaphorically on Jung’s writing is, in fact, the basis of a long-standing branch of discourse in literary studies (i.e., myth criticism/archetypal criticism).
    I say, who can deny the need for literary license? However with the empiricist Jung, whose work is NOT THEORY at all but thorougly documented analytically researched scientific fact it is precisely such casual language standard that encourages other sciences to dismiss his work. This is a reason why the nutso work of the behaviorists received the most research funding over the last century. In my opinion, such loose language standards has harmed Jungian terms, concepts, and models and robbed the field of valuable support. Literary license is not respected in serious science or philosophy and this serves a very important purpose. I repeat, Jung was an empiricist and not a theorist at all and should not be described as a theorist. You cannot call someone a theorist and an empiricist. Only the latter applies to Jung.
    You go on, “Thus in your objections to the use of certain terms (like “archetype”) and treatments of concepts (like the Transcendent Function), you are actually questioning far more than just this paper’s approach to Jungian theory. You are questioning the approaches taken by Joseph Campbell and Northrop Frye, two of the most renowned proponents of Jungian theory in the area of literary studies. (And that is just naming two out of who knows how many…)
    I say that If indeed this is the perspective of the two you mentioned then they were wrong. Campbell was a Mythologist and as a result comfortable with abstractions and symbolism.
    You presented evidence to support your understanding of “archetype” based upon something called, “archetypal criticism” from a respected literary critic, Herman Northrop Frye. From what I learned of Frye, his critique specialty included poetry and more artsy rather than scientific or technical writings. His technique in critiquing such things as poetry produces a better result if you work the writing back to the archetype. There is no doubt the man Frye deserves considerable credit for his accomplishments but he never studied psychology nor did he have experience that I can see in interpretation of scientific writings or publication. So his use of the term archetype is a product of one given to artistic license. He has a right to define archetype in any fashion he chooses. However if he actually believes he is comparing what he is critiquing to an archetype as Jung empirically defined it, it is incorrect and incomplete. For instance, consider the archetype of God or Tao, he could work toward that goal but since you cannot define God or Tao, where would his task end? Perhaps he would casually ignore that ultimate end and go on to read some poetry? How about the archetype of shadow, anima, animus, and etc. Nah he’d be whistling in dixie.
    Frye’s (my opinion) Introverted, Intuitive Feeling type would make him uncomfortable critiqueing practical and detailed scientific material like Jung’s Analytical Psychology. I don’t think he understood too much about it and therefore could not correctly apply the term as Jung coined it. In Jungian terms, Frye would be comfortable with the abstract, metaphor, and symbolic. His opposite psychological type would be the Extraverted or Introverted Sensation Thinking type comfortable in the here and now, direct, non-teleogical, “is thinking” of John Steinbeck and Ed Ricketts. His unscientific use of the term archetype would not serve psychological scientific or technical dialog. Still you have the right to believe what you want about the term “archetype”. Scientifically however in Jungian psychology your understanding is incorrect.
    Pulling out your big philosophical guns, you state, “With this in mind, it is hard to feel any compunction about the uses of these terms as they appear in my article. Rather than presuming so much as to defend Northrop Frye’s use of Jungian terminology and (that of Joseph Campbell as well), the wiser path seems to be for me to stand behind these well-known and highly regarded scholars and let them defend the approach used in this article by dint of their remarkable statures and publishing histories vis a vis Jungian theory.”
    If I were ducking facts regarding the use of the term archetype in favor of a loosely defined but artistically licensed definition, I’d be standing behind them guys too and let them take the hit (I’m from New Jersey). I have to ask how do you define “theory” and then apply it to an empiricist? You cannot, really, right?
    You continue: “Going one step further, though unnecessary at this point, I would also note a definition of archetypes that comes from Jung’s PSYCHOLOGY AND RELIGION: “Forms and images of a collective nature which occur practically all over the earth as constituents of myth and at the same time as autochthonous, individual products of unconscious origin.” The term “archetypes” as it is used in the paper adheres to this definition of archetype-as-form-and/or-image and falls also well within the established sense of the term as it is used in the work of Northrop Frye and others.”
    Hmmm Northrop Frye has already lost my respect as a competent defense witness in this debate. His opinion therefore holds little weight. He apparenly knows little about Jungian thought. Where does the quote refer to the purpose you propose in the original paper that was the basis of my original objection?
    Regarding our disagreement I believe that ideally we will come together in mutual agreement that benefits both of us.
    Respectfully,
    Wes

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