Emma Browning

Unconscious Desires

On a sultry summer afternoon in the 1930s, two men wander in single file along a worn path in California’s Gabilan Mountains. The first, George Milton, is small and dark; the latter, Lennie Small, is shapeless and lumbering, but together they give a face to an often overlooked part of the American experience: the plight of migrant farm workers. John Steinbeck’s artful prose in his classic novella Of Mice and Men brings to life these two characters and their shared dream, which ends all too tragically when Lennie accidentally kills a local woman and George feels compelled to shoot him. This, of course, poses two key questions: what led to this betrayal of trust, and could there have been another way out? Sigmund Freud’s theory of the unconscious mind and the psyche, when applied to these characters and their motives, reveals that George did in fact choose to selfishly murder his friend, and that his actions were prompted by Lennie’s mental disability and by the viewpoint of his fellow workers.

While Steinbeck does not explicitly state that Lennie is mentally disabled, he implies it through indirect characterization. Within the first few pages, Lennie copies George’s movements, defies him by continually petting a dead mouse, and is repeatedly reminded of simple facts, so much that George explodes: “So you forgot that awready, did you? I gotta tell you again, do I? Jesus Christ, you’re a crazy bastard!” (Steinbeck 4) This passage demonstrates that not only is this a regular occurrence, but also that George harbors some resentment towards being saddled to a disabled person. He plays it off in a joking manner, but several years of dealing with Lennie’s whims and losing work opportunities is not exactly conducive to affection. Like Freud’s id, the part of the mind which is “primitive, illogical, irrational, and fantasy oriented” (McLeod,“Id”), Lennie is governed by his impulses. He is childlike in nature and seeks pleasure or affection, which for him comes in the form of touching soft objects. However, since he cannot comprehend social cues, such as the possible repercussions of touching the girl’s dress, he relies on George to regulate his behavior. According to Freud, in terms of his psyche, Lennie is no more developed than a toddler. He has a bit of the ego, the part of the mind that makes the id’s goals realistic, but often does not use it at all or only as a method of manipulating George (McLeod,“Id”).

Rather, George serves as his superego, which “controls the id’s impulses, especially those which society forbids, such as sex and aggression” (McLeod,“Id”). Like the superego, George provokes feelings of guilt in Lennie when he ignores societal norms, but also helps create the “perfect self”, or fantasy, which they together strive to achieve (McLeod,“Id”). In this case, the ideal self is stability, or the idea that they can be stable and functioning enough to own their own farm. When Lennie destroys their dream of a farm by murdering Curly’s wife, George’s feelings of resentment, which have persisted for so long, accumulate. Earlier signs of his resentment are evident in a conversation with Slim during a card game: “‘Course Lennie’s a God damn nuisance most of the time . . . but you get used to goin’ around with a guy an’ you can’t get rid of him” (Steinbeck 41). At this moment when his guard is down, George is able express his deepest desires. Yet he feels obligated to care for Lennie, seeing as he almost accidentally drowned him in a river years ago, and depends on him so that he does not feel lonely. Another one of Freud’s theories was that of the unconscious mind, which contains “all sorts of significant and disturbing material which [one needs to keep out of his or her] awareness because [it is] too threatening to acknowledge fully” (McLeod,“Unconscious”). It also contains urges of sex, aggression, and primitive instincts, which must be repressed because they are socially unacceptable (McLeod,“Unconscious”). After years of caring for Lennie and losing jobs, George’s anger increases, and he develops a hidden wish to remove Lennie from his life, even kill him, without ever acknowledging it to himself. The difficulties associated with Lennie’s disability and the urgency of the final scene cause these ideas to reach his conscious mind and culminate in his friend’s murder.

The viewpoint of George’s fellow workers and the atmosphere of prejudice surrounding the farm also contribute to Lennie’s death. When George and Lennie first arrive, Lennie is specifically instructed to keep his mouth shut, because his mental disability would be viewed as a disadvantage, and he might get them in trouble. In fact, not saying anything makes the foreman suspicious, and when George offers the excuse that he was “kicked in the head by a horse as a kid” (Steinbeck 22), the foreman remains skeptical. The men do not exactly exclude Lennie, but they are unable to understand him and regard him warily. Even Slim, who is unwilling to say a word against him and get himself in trouble, remarks to George, “Jesus . . . he’s jes’ like a kid, ain’t he” (Steinbeck 43). Curly, the boss’s son, has more of a reason to hate him as Lennie crushed his hand in a fight. So when Curly’s wife is found dead and Lennie is the clear culprit, it makes sense that Curly, already angry about his hand and touchy about his wife’s promiscuity, is eager to lynch him and save face. Even Slim, who had on several occasions said that Lennie was not a terrible person, regrettably admits “I guess we gotta get ‘im” (Steinbeck 97), and points out to George that Lennie either gets mistreated in jail or shot by an enraged Curly. With the sole voice of authority and reason acquiescing, the other men agree easily. While one could argue that, given the circumstances, Lennie would either be shot by Curly in cold blood, or by George in a kinder fashion or a mercy killing, the evidence suggests otherwise. The very fact that Carlson’s gun went missing before Curly flies into a rage suggests that the murder was not based on the circumstances, but George’s own wishes surfacing. As soon as Lennie goes too far, George plans his death regardless of the possible outcomes. As he points the search party in the wrong direction, knowing full well that Lennie would be hiding in the bushes, he has three options: find Lennie and escape, find Lennie and murder him, or let the other men find him. Their escape from Weed at the beginning of the story foreshadows that this is an option: they have run before, and they can do it again. If George is truly sympathetic, would he not choose this? Even letting the other men discover Lennie would let him justify it to himself, so that George could insist that it was inevitable, that he could not do anything, and that he would be spared the emotional pain of watching his friend’s murder. But George is selfish in that he succumbed to his unconscious, and wants to kill Lennie himself. After years of difficulties, after he causes their dream to die so close to achieving it, he no longer wants to be saddled with Lennie. While he did tell Lennie the story of the farm, and he certainly feels guilty about the deed, he chooses to do it nonetheless. For once, he lets his darker aggressions take over, at Lennie’s weakest moment when his deed could be justified. Only with the turbulent emotions of the other men, and Slim’s acquiescence, would George be able to accept his own deed for what it was, or avoid crushing guilt.

A multitude of factors contribute to Lennie’s death: his disability and his fellow workers’ prejudices. After years of caring for Lennie and losing jobs and hopes, George’s resentment grows in his unconscious mind, ultimately rising when Lennie was at his weakest and putting their partnership to an end. While both men represent different parts of Freud’s psyche, instead of the usual mutualistic relationship between the segments, their alliance ends when the stronger of the two forces attacks the other. And yet, this poses the questions: do we all harbor such dark thoughts and desires as George, or are most of our desires more benign? Could all of our repressed feelings lead to something as drastic as murder, and do we simply never have an opportunity to yield to it? And are some personalities more susceptible compared to others? And for a single fleeting moment, did George give into his own impulses instead of being the voice of reason? These questions alight in the reader’s mind as many as 81 years after the publication of this timeless classic.