Mother Dearest

Mommy Problems.

If I could sum up Art’s life in two words, it would be just that. Mommy Problems.

And no, he didn’t have mommy problems in the sense that she wouldn’t buy him the latest edition of the iPhone. I’m talking, serious, emotionally scarring stuff. 

Close, but no.

But the issues aren’t just from Art’s life post-suicide. Obviously, suicide is a difficult thing to deal with for anyone, not just Art in particular. But even before that, it was pretty clear that Art and Anja did not have the best relationship.

As I brought up in my last post, the things that happened to Vladek and Anja in the Holocaust are the things that would set the tone for the rest of their lives. For Anja, the loss of her first son, Richieu was the one that set the crazy train rolling. Richieu’s death leaves a hole in Anja’s heart. And who does she rely on to fill that hole? You guessed it: Art.

As it turns out, Anja is a stage five clinger. She lavishes Art with copious amounts of attention, and as can be expected, Art does not respond well. Instead of accepting and reciprocating to attention (which, in his defense, may have been pretty hard to do), he instead feels smothered, and pulls away from Anja.

Art becomes so fed up with his mother’s constant need for validation, that one night, when Anja comes into Art’s room and asks if he loves her, he responds with “sure.” That was the last time Art saw her before she killed herself.

 

 

And here's a picture of you reading that.

According to webMD, a person who loses someone to suicide is “more at risk for becoming preoccupied with the reason for the suicide while wanting to deny or hide the cause of death, wondering if they could have prevented it, feeling blamed for the problems that preceded the suicide,” and may feel “a great range of conflicting emotions about the deceased …and anger at the deceased for taking their own life.”

 

Art definitely becomes preoccupied with Anja after her death. Her suicide eventually acts as the impetus for Art to begin writing Maus, and as he writes it, he never loses sight of his mother. Even when Vladek is telling Art about his experiences, Art will try to steer him towards stories about his mother instead.

And though he would never take the blame, he does feel blamed for her suicide. The way in which Art showcases his last interaction with his mother before her suicide in his publications, as well as his efforts throughout the rest of the novel to come to terms with her death, show a sense of underlying guilt about it.

But instead of accepting or taking fault for her suicide, he does what most people do best: blame someone else. In “Prisoner on the Hell Planet”, he writes “You’ve committed the perfect crime…You murdered me, Mommy, and you left me here to take the rap!!!” By deflecting the fault back onto Anja, Art makes himself out as the victim instead of her.

This is a pretty recurring theme in their relationship though. When Anja is giving him too much attention, Art feels victimized, and when she kills herself, he displays himself as the victim instead of realistically looking at the reasons for her suicide.

Going back to the flower metaphor, Art’s bad relationship with Anja coupled with her suicide is a horde of flower eating insects, all coming to chomp down on the already suffering flower. Considering the fact that Art was already in the mental ward, his mother’s suicide did not do much to help him out, though it did have significant impact on him.

After her suicide, he became almost obsessed with finding out about her past, probably caused by his guilt over the matter. His intense emotions about Anja’s suicide are what drive him to write Maus, an experience that defines him in his adult life.

So next time your mom won’t get off your back about doing your dishes (why doesn’t she just do them?) or coming to visit her (didn’t you just see her two months ago?), just stop for a moment and be glad. At least your mom didn’t tragically commit suicide and leave you with years’ worth of baggage to sort out yourself.