Journey to the End of the Night

Journey to the End of the Night begins with Ferdinand Bardamu joining up to fight in World War I. The pageantry of a military parade takes hold of Bardamu, causing a sudden surge of patriotism and pride such that “enthusiasm lifted [him] to [his] feet” (15). This surge of uncritical patriotism leads Bardamu straight into the trenches, where it quickly dissolves into nihilism and terror. War in Journey to the End of the Night is an expression of hatred, but not in the traditional sense. Bardamu quickly learns that he does not hate his so-called enemies, the Germans. He hates the officers who send him into battle; he hates the men who make him risk his life against men in a similar position, and he regards the horror of the war as evidence that his own country hates him. Bardamu’s experiences in World War I strip away any idealism or patriotism he might once have known. Instead, he is gradually consumed with a lingering bitterness toward the people who lied to him about the state of the war. Most importantly, Bardamu comes to hate himself for being so naïve as to believe in a country that treats him as disposable. His self-loathing is sharpened in the trenches of World War I. He may want to survive, but he can no longer entertain the idea of himself as a heroic figure.

After Bardamu leaves the war, his only goal is to escape his memories and even his identity. He goes to Africa and then to America, travelling vast distances because the thought of lingering in one place for too long makes him uncomfortable. Staying somewhere too long, Bardamu knows, only gives him time to examine himself—exactly what he wants to avoid. He resents anyone who shows any affection for him. Robinson—a man molded by similar experiences—cannot allow anyone to love him. Robinson’s rejection of Madelon is foreshadowed by Bardamu’s doomed relationship with Molly, in which he spurns her genuine affection for him because he does not believe himself worthy of love. As much as he loves Molly, Bardamu hates himself, and Molly’s affection only exacerbates his self-hatred. As ever, he departs from her company and resumes his journey into the night, seeking to escape the sources of connection that, in his eyes, are devoid of meaning.

As evidenced by Robinson and many others, Bardamu is not unique. There are very few relationships in the text that are not motivated by cynical self-interest. Bardamu’s first experience in the novel is a surge of national pride that immediately proves devoid of moral content—nothing but a trap designed to lure men to their deaths. In the aftermath of this discovery, all abstract values prove equally hollow. To varying degrees, the whole society seems aware of this newly emerged moral vacuum. Everyone seeks only the means to survive and, if possible, to become rich. A young boy dies of typhoid and is scarcely mourned by his family. Monsieur Henrouille schemes to have his mother institutionalized against her will. When he dies, his mother barely notices, too busy with her own entrepreneurial schemes.

Bardamu wishes only to outrun himself forever, but this proves impossible. When he returns to Paris and works in the asylum, for example, he is haunted by the prospect of Robinson’s return. When Robinson does return, he is haunted by the idea that Madelon will follow. With them, the schemes and the crimes of the past will come as well. The past catches up with the characters in the back of a taxi. After a failed attempt at reconciliation—made impossible because everyone is so burdened by their own private frustrations and resentments—Madelon unleashes her hatred. Unable to bottle up or ignore her emotions any longer, she launches a verbal tirade against Bardamu, then shoots Robinson before running away. She has become the embodiment of everything both Bardamu and Robinson have tried to run away from. She claims to love Robinson—another abstract moral value—but her love is really a drive for vengeance, an unwillingness to let him discard her. In this way, she is analogous to the Furies (or Erinyes) who relentlessly pursue and punish transgressors in Greek tragedy and myth.

Robinson dies, and Bardamu is left to linger among the consequences of the lives they have lived. The constant running from past traumas, the refusal to allow anyone to love, and the all-consuming self-hatred end with bloodshed. Tellingly, there is no real resolution to Bardamu’s journey, only the reveal of the inevitable consequences of living in such a way. He is made to realize that this hatred and bitterness has become “the end of us” (441).