Your Typical Father-Son Power Struggle, Henry IV vs. V

Shakespeare's historical play, Henry IV Part I, explores the messy inner-workings behind the succession of a throne. Through the depraved relationship between King Henry IV and Prince Hal (Henry V), the bard reveals truths about father to son inherited traits and inherited expectations, adding humor and relate-ability to the situation with a supplemental character named Falstaff.

Most of Hal's growing up occurs outside the palace and in a crude bar setting with less-than respectable commoners (in the King's eye). Fat old John Falstaff, Hal's pub friend, plays the role of Henry IV's foil, replacing kingly advice and fatherly duty with street knowledge and fatherly affinity. Though it is from Falstaff that Hal receives his ruling style and understanding that "wisdom cries out in the streets", Hal eventually reverts to the neglected influence of his father in him when battle commences. In his first very important soliloquy, Hal addresses his two-sided character, admitting some foolishness in his acts at the tavern but predicting the coming of his rise to power and glory, where the clouds will clear and the sun (or son) will be revealed in true allegiance to his father's expectations and teaching.

Despite the rocky road Henry IV and Hal endured to their bond, Hal proves to be a mirror image of his father when the most prominent piece of his father's life is thrust upon him. Henry V inherits his father's commanding presence - with perhaps a bit more active valor than the king - as messenger Vernon basks in Hal's new appearance as a warrior ready for the throne.

Shakespeare's exploration of Hal and Henry IV's relationship as a base for the historical drama contributes to my question of inherited identity the complications of an estranged bond and the strong will of a child. It puts forth the question of nature versus nurture with the presence of both the king and Falstaff and ultimately concludes that the nature of one's parent, at least parts of it, will manifest itself in one's developing self, accompanied by personally gained knowledge.

As Mother Lays Dying, the Family Struggles with Personal Identity

A tale of perhaps the most chaotic family in literature, William Faulkner's As I Lay Dying reveals multiple truths about family dynamics, including how individuality is very nature lenient, mainly toward the mother's influence. The death of their mother causes each Bundren family member to struggle with their individuality a midst the rest of their kin as they attempt to fulfill one collective promise to her, carrying her coffin to Jefferson for burial.

Faulkner, in the cases of two of Addie's sons, Jewel and Vardaman, uses the motif of two animals, a horse and a fish, to quite directly characterize the nature of their identities and connection with "mother". Jewel is a wild spirit and a man of action, he loves in his own way, sternly but sincerely. "Your mother is a horse," Darl says of Jewel, reflecting upon the relationship Jewel and his steed share. Faulkner comments on the inevitability of shared traits between a mother and child as the mirror image of Jewel and his horse is described as a mother-son relation. Vardaman, just before Addie's death, catches and cleans a fish for her. Through this action, he associates his mother with the gift, perhaps as an attempt to cling to her dying body by offering a sort of reincarnation option. Seeing the fish chopped and cooked for dinner, Vardaman slips into an incoherent babbling state for the remainder of the journey, intermittently exclaiming or muttering, "My mother is a fish." His connection with Addie must have been great, as her death and the death of his reincarnation of her leaves him amiss, unsure of who he belongs to and who he possibly could be.

The children's' relationships with Anse, their father, is much less emphasized. They inherited his selfishness in that the journey to Addie's eventual grave becomes an opportunity for errand running, but Anse's caliber of laziness is unmatched.

Faulkner's dominant character, who, ironically, happens to be dead, brings forward an interesting sub-question to my question of nurture. Does the mother have more of an influence than the father? In this case of the spunky, demanding Addie Bundren, an strong argument for the power of a mother's relationship with her children's future identities can be made.