Porter Yelton
Always Falling: Memory, Collectivity, and Intimacy in Post-9/11 Literature
In novelistic narratives that center around the September 11 th attacks on New York, Richard Drew’s iconic photograph, “The Falling Man,” and others like it, seem to push themselves always to the forefront. These photographs represent an ultimate suspension between life and death—something both powerful and damning. The falling people live on through the photographs, frozen in their frames, yet explorations of these people in literature seem to indicate that they are constantly moving, that a photographic frame cannot capture them in one moment—still—in their fall, but instead dooms them to continue falling forever.
For the characters in the four novels I explore in this study, these images they have seen propagated throughout the news become conflated with their own memories, distorting their ability to reflect accurately upon what has really occurred. These characters are falling away from any intimacy they may experience with their own memories of that tragic day, and yet somehow those very memories seem to be the only things on which they can focus. They are suspended—like “The Falling Man”—between two impossible realities: any collectivized memory of those present in the communal space of the World Trade Center on 9/11, and intimate, personal memories; neither of which they can access in the wake of a tragedy as colossal as 9/11. In order to cope with the trauma they have experienced, they must reformulate and reimagine what has happened to them—and authors must present them as full of gaps, as mere semblances of healthy human beings with complete and structured consciousnesses. Just as the falling people are doomed always to fall, these characters are doomed always to be victims, trapped inside their trauma, a warped sense of reality being their only hope for escape.