Few genres are more gripping than captivity narratives, which is ultimately the survival tome. By either the Grace of God or sheer will, the human spirit endures in the face of unspeakable circumstances. The population at large rarely comes into contact with Native American abduction tales outside of a History/Discovery/National Geographic channel special, and even that audience, is niche and relatively small. However, modern occurrences of captivity news reports, of varying degrees, include accounts on human trafficking and kidnapping are offered on primetime television; by and large, careful to detail the victims peril and ultimate return. The tales of Jaycee Lee Dugard and Aron Ralston are two separate accounts that spring to mind.
People magazine cover details a modern captivity narrative.
Jaycee Lee Dugard was kidnapped in 1991 with the image of her straight blonde hair and toothy grin burned into my memory from prolonged exposure to America’s Most Wanted by my frightful mother. Jaycee was a cautionary tale that reminded children not to speak to strangers, and watch over younger siblings to-and-from the bus stop. Moreover, the continuous news coverage brought child abduction to the forefront with the adorable fair-haired girl its poster child. When Jaycee was found eighteen years later, I had nearly forgotten all about the fear and panic that followed her disappearance but the reports storming the media were tales of the worst kind of treatment. A girl around my age was held captive and repeatedly raped, producing the children of her attacker; who were the symbol of both torture and hope. While not captured by Native Americans, she was indeed abused and kidnapped by savages. Just like Mary Rowlandson, she lived to tell her tale, instead of the church detailing her narrative; the print and television media featured the brutal account within the following months of Jaycee’s return home. Although, Jaycee wrote a memoir along with her therapist, in order to reconcile the trauma and torment she incurred for two-thirds of her young life.
Aron Ralston wasn’t kidnapped but he was trapped, quite literally, between a rock and a hard place. A falling boulder trapped this young man away from humanity, food, and any hope of rescue in a slot canyon in Canyonlands National Park, Utah, his prison partially due to his own hubris and failure to inform someone of his whereabouts on this particular solo adventure (evidently, this is survival 101 for lone travellers). Aron was imprisoned by a brutal force-of-nature for five days, until he amputated part of his arm, releasing the delirious Ralston from an eventual cavernous tomb. His rescue would not come for several hours as he scaled a cliff and walked two-miles to a European family camping in the park. Just like Jaycee and Mary, Aron was compelled to tell his story (if you haven’t read Between a Rock and a Hard Place, I highly recommend it and the cinematic adaptation 127 Hours by Danny Boyle) and travel around the world as a motivational speaker. At the end of his memoir, he admits it was a sheer miracle that he made it out of the canyon alive, careful not to name God but using biblical language- a striking difference from Rowlandson’s text peppered with gospel verses.
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Dang. It would be interesting to do an extended comparison of how these contemporary texts make use of older captivity narrative conventions. What rhetorical purposes do contemporary ones serve as they draw upon older forms? Isn’t it strange (or maybe not) how they use sympathetic figures, i.e., children, especially white children? Seriously, what happens to stories of women or children of color who are taken captive? Ok, I’ll admit my agenda, the media usually portrays women and children of color as predatory or bringing the victimization upon themselves.
So I had never really thought of any contemporary captivity narratives like this…it reminds me of the pictures of missing kids that they put up in Walmart. When I was little, while my mom was at the checkout counter, I used to read the posters about missing kids. It intrigued me and I used to try to memorize the faces to see if I could recognize someone later. I remember those “don’t talk to strangers” lectures from my parents and the panic when my little brother once went missing in the mall and they had to do a lock-down. Luckily he was just hiding in the clothing racks 🙂 but all kids are sort of primed for this fear of being kidnapped. Hence the enduring fascination with captivity narratives.
I think that this is a fantastic post. While I have not read Between a Rock and a Hard Place, I did indeed see 127 Hours in cinemas, as I am a very big fan of Danny Boyle, and I adore his direction from Slumdog Millionaire to his drama adaptation of Frankenstein (it’s fantastic!). I have to say up front that there was something very chilling and unnerving about seeing this film on the big screen that did not compare when I bought the DVD and watched it at home. I cried my (insert your favorite word here) eyes out. Up until this point, I never considered this as a ‘captivity narrative’, but you are absolutely right because it totally is! You’ve sold me on the book. Once I can catch a break when this semester is over, I am planning to read it. I think it will be very interesting to look at the differences between Mary Rowlandson’s version in comparison to Aaron’s.
Thank you! Danny Boyle is one of my favorite directors, and Frankenstein (I caught the version with Benedict Cumberbatch as Victor and Jonny Lee Miller as the Creature) was amazing! His ability to create movement and tension via clever filming, color saturation, and music is stunning. I read Between a Rock and a Hard Place over Christmas, a couple years ago and while it was quite tragic, it really made me think about what I would do in the same situation. Just like the captivity narratives we read at the beginning of the semester. What would you do to survive? Try to blend in and wait it out? Or go on a murderous rampage with a prized scalp for a cash reward?