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61 pages 2 hours read

Stephen King

Gerald's Game

Fiction | Novel | Adult | Published in 1992

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Themes

Identity as a Combination of Personalities

Content Warning: This section of the guide discusses sexual assault and child sexual abuse.

Although Jessie associates the voices that she hears in her head with trauma, it is only the disembodied existence of the voices that stands as a contrast to what is considered to be a healthy version of psychological equilibrium. While developed independently, King’s approach to portraying individual personality holds many threads in common with the modern therapeutic tool known as Internal Family Systems, for King’s novels operate on the assumption that each person is an amalgamation of different personalities and elements of conditioning and experiences that meld together to form a concrete identity. The voices that Jessie hears are therefore more akin to different sides of a single identity, many of which tend to war with each other in moments of stress. This dynamic is most aptly portrayed in Gerald’s Game when Jessie is first handcuffed to the bed or during the immediate aftermath of Tom’s assault. Similarly, voices like Goody and Punkin are designed to express Jessie’s deeply ingrained conceptions of childhood and femininity, while voices like Ruth and Nora express newer ideas of defiance and independence. Ultimately, however, all of these voices stand as products of Jessie’s experiences and feelings rather than as discrete entities. In the end, as Jessie finally rids herself of the voices, she returns to a state of cohesion that reintegrates her various internal personalities into a coherent identity. The parts of herself remain within her balanced consciousness, but they no longer speak in different voices because they are no longer aggravated by specific stressors in Jessie’s life.

Ironically, the voices themselves often tell Jessie that they are really her own inner voice, and this idea is most explicitly related toward the end of the novel when Punkin’s voice tells Jessie: “[W]e’re all you. You do know that, don’t you?” (360). Punkin’s pointed reminder reflects the intensity of the trauma needed to split her various sub-personalities into distinct voices, each one presenting unique points of view. Within the novel, each voice serves a purpose, for not only do these different speakers allow King to create additional characters in a situation that is severely lacking in this area, but the voices also highlight key aspects of Jessie’s psychological recovery. For example, Ruth’s voice encourages Jessie to confront Gerald, as well as the memory of Tom, and Goody’s voice provides both support and blame after Tom’s assault during the eclipse. While Goody expresses a traditional image of subservient femininity, Ruth and Nora counter that subservience with defiance and introspection that allow Jessie to progress through her internal confrontation of her trauma.

By the end of the novel, Jessie knows that she is talking to herself rather than to separate entities, which she notes is “maybe progress of a sort” (453). Jessie may not be sure that she has made progress, but the fact that her internal thoughts are no longer fragmented into distinct and contradictory branches is undoubtedly a healthier psychological state. It is important to remember that every identity is essentially a combination of Jessie’s past conditioning and experiences. The voices themselves function as a kind of coping mechanism for her present and past trauma, diversifying Jessie’s internal responses to avoid overloading herself. Whenever another voice speaks in Jessie’s mind, it is a signal that either the present situation or the memory being recalled in that moment is particularly stressful for Jessie, and the voices are there to assist her in coping with that situation, even if they seem to confuse or irritate her.

Objectifying Women Through Toxic Masculinity

Early in the novel, Jessie recalls Gerald’s joke with his coworkers about women being life support systems for their genitalia, and that joke becomes a common perception across the primary male characters: Gerald, Tom, and Brandon. Each of these men demean the women in their lives, with Gerald approaching the point of assault and Tom openly assaulting his daughter. The root of this perception is the patriarchal belief that men are superior to women, which leads to two crucial outcomes in Gerald’s Game. The first is that men perceive women’s bodies as objects for their own sexual pleasure, regardless of the autonomy or agency of the woman. The second assumption that results from a patriarchal mindset is the idea that men must simply placate and condescend to women in order to resolve any issues, no matter how serious, that such women might bring to their attention.

In the first case, the obvious examples of men claiming ownership over women’s bodies are the ways in which Gerald, Tom, and Will assault Jessie. When Jessie tells Gerald that she does not want to have sex while she is in the handcuffs, she realizes that “Mr. Happy hadn’t heard about the change of plans” (12). This wording references Gerald’s continued erection as though it is a separate entity from Gerald himself; Jessie’s conception of this dynamic is designed to imply that she believes Gerald to be somehow separate from his intention to potentially assault her. Such wording indicates that Jessie is reluctant to admit that it is Gerald’s conscious choice to continue to restrain her, just as it was her father’s conscious choice to abuse her so many years ago. Unlike Gerald, however, Tom enjoys a nearly unassailable position of authority over the young Jessie on the day of the eclipse, and as the assault occurs, she reminds herself multiple times that he is her father and would never hurt her. However, Tom ultimately uses his young daughter as a sex object, and, although she is not outwardly rejecting him, she is an unwitting participant in the act, which places the incident squarely in the category of sexual abuse. Other men in Jessie’s life, such as Will, take a much tamer route, for although Will’s decision to “goose” Jessie may be intended as a joke, it still suggests that Jessie has no right to establish boundaries over who is allowed to touch her body, and in what way.

The second method used to exhibit patterns of toxic masculinity becomes apparent when the male characters of Gerald’s Game treat women as being less competent or intelligent than men; this dynamic is most aptly demonstrated in Jessie’s descriptions of Gerald and his coworkers, who believe that “fish gotta swim, bird gotta fly, wife gotta nag” (44). This irreverent phrasing implies that women’s complaints are a fleeting element of nature: something that must inevitably be endured but not worthy of any particular concern. The culmination of this masculine behavior is the character of Brandon, Gerald’s coworker who ostensibly helps Jessie during her recovery. Despite his overt show of support for her recent ordeal, she notices that he smiles in the way men might do “when they’re thinking about how silly women are” (428), and it is this same misogynistic assumption of women’s incompetence that leads Gerald to ignore his wife, Tom to manipulate and abuse his family, and Brandon to both disbelieve and cover up the essential details of Jessie’s story. Ironically, Jessie turns the tables on this dynamic when she exploits Brandon’s innate prejudices by crying in order to convince him to accede to her wishes about confronting Joubert. This particular example illustrates the far-reaching and nuanced effects of navigating gendered role expectations for men and women alike. Overall, the novel’s primary focus is on highlighting the negative ways in which toxic elements of masculinity can affect men’s treatment of women in many situations, specifically those centering on sexual assault and the subsequent rationalization of abuse.

The Lasting Effects of Unresolved Trauma

Jessie’s journey is one of resolving her long-held trauma, for even without the dire circumstances in which she finds herself, she has always been haunted by her father’s abuse on day of the eclipse. Even after she escapes the handcuffs, she goes on to more completely fulfill her healing journey by resolving the remaining elements of her trauma by writing the explanatory letter to Ruth. It is through resolving her trauma, usually in bursts of recollection and introspection, that Jessie develops the ideas that keep her alive, even though these bursts often seem painful and counterintuitive. The point of this process, in which Jessie is almost assaulted by her own memories, is to link the ideas of survival and resolution in the novel. At one point, Jessie realizes that the abuse she suffered as a child has profoundly influenced her life choices and identity for almost three decades because of her compulsion to repress her memory of the original trauma. Although the novel’s primary plot revolves around Jessie’s current predicament, the real conflicts take place in her mind, and her situation at the lake house is inextricably tied to the abuse she suffered as a child.

Critically, Jessie resists confronting her trauma for the majority of the novel. She experiences internalized guilt and shame that she does not want to uncover, and she therefore rejects Ruth Neary and Nora Callighan’s efforts, prior to her captivity at the lake house, to help her through the process of confronting that trauma. Jessie refers to Ruth and Nora as “Cult-of-Selfers” and “Live-in-the-Pasters,” rightly noting that they would call Tom’s assault on the day of the eclipse “child abuse” (159). This mindset highlights Jessie’s ongoing efforts to convince herself that she did not experience trauma at all. Nonetheless, it is significant that her “inner child,” Punkin, is stuck in a metaphorical pillory for the crime of “sexual enticement,” for this image reveals that the psychology of trauma is not entirely conscious. Through repression, Jessie has rejected her own memories of her abuse to such an extent that her recollections only bubble to the surface in critical moments, like kicking Gerald or punching Will. Most importantly, Jessie finally realizes the need to confront these memories when she is faced with “some waiting shape that might make what had happened that day on the deck seem insignificant by comparison” (218). This example refers to her encounter with Joubert, as Jessie notices that her present danger is more immediate and severe than her prior trauma. The reason that Jessie needs to “have this out in the open once and for all” (218) is that a part of her is still in the pillory, which means that some part of Jessie’s perspective believes that she deserves to be handcuffed to the bed, waiting for death.

When Jessie envisions Punkin in the pillory, she immediately comments that no child can be rightfully accused of sexual enticement, asking: “How could people be so cruel?” (287). And yet, the pillory, the child, and the crime are all part of Jessie’s mind, remnants of her trauma and the guilt and shame that she felt in the aftermath of her father’s abuse. The “people” that have been so “cruel” are only Jessie herself, as she has mentally put herself in the pillory for all these years. Of course, her father is the one who initially made her feel the guilt and shame that placed Punkin in the pillory, but it is Jessie’s insistence on repressing those memories of trauma that has kept her inner child, Punkin, imprisoned in her mind. Once Jessie lets Punkin out of the metaphorical pillory, Punkin can then lead Jessie to the plan that ultimately releases her from the handcuffs, creating a concrete link between resolving the past trauma to resolve the present.

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