A Paradise Lost - KOPS - Universität Konstanz

unfolding, I wanted to swim toward them and ride, ride away from all the pain. I
never felt calmer; I must have smiled. Then, quick as light – at least hurricane fast
– darkness spoke as I blacked out (152).
In lieu of the bottomless thesis that is among the reasons for this death, the writer hands
in a story that is governed by the ocean in both plot and imagery.
the ocean:
In Chris McKinney’s novel The Tattoo, Ken dismisses any mystical approach to
Whenever you hear or read anything about surfing, all of this ‘soul’ and ‘zen’ crap
appears. For me, surfing is athletic. All the zen in the world won’t get you past
fifteen-foot breakers when you’re paddling out. Only skill, athleticism, and a
demented mind will get you through that. It’s a rush because of the fear factor.
When I have thousands of pounds of water nipping at my heels, longing to smash
me down into coral, I am not feeling “one with the ocean.” Instead, I’m running
away from it, not really trying to escape it, but teasing it with every cut, showing
Neptune that I’m too fast, too smart for him. I’m briefly transformed into a
modern-day Ulysses (52).
Due to their different upbringings and experiences, Ken’s lover Claudia interprets the
ocean differently: “‘It makes me feel alive, I guess. Like this is a place where nothing
back there,’ she pointed toward shore, ‘can touch me’” (117). As mentioned in the
discussion of the role of history in The Tattoo, Claudia wanted to leave for the mainland,
but Ken stalled:
For her the ocean was escape, it was a place of endless possibilities. […] The
ocean was all around me, it fenced me in. It was a fence I’d often like to climb,
and I’d do so every time I surfed or dived. But to go beyond the fence? It seemed
ridiculous. To paddle a surfboard out toward the horizon, to venture so far that I
would not be able to paddle back (162).
Ken would be lost without his “macho code” (190), to say the least. A Freudian reading
of such passages is legitimate, if only because of McKinney’s scattered references to
psychology.
In Kiana Davenport’s ‘Hawaiian’ novels, the ocean is a refuge from the
threatening world, and the space of one’s ancestors. Not surprisingly, considering the
239