Saints, sinners, and the Dickensian novel: the ethics of storytelling in John Irving's 'The Cider House Rules.'

Style, Summer, 1998 by Todd F. Davis, Kenneth Womack

As the boy whose adoption never comes to pass, Homer undergoes a trial by fire of sorts that consists of several horribly fantastic adoptive experiences, including in one instance his "buggering" by a sibling and in another case the death of his new parents in a thunderous rushing flood of logs and water on a camping expedition. As he inevitably returns to St. Cloud's, he develops a special relationship, unique and full of mutual love, with Larch. Because Homer grows to the age of "usefulness," as Larch calls it, while still residing at St. Cloud's, Larch initiates him into the world of the orphanage, first as a caregiver and later as an obstetrician. For example, Larch assigns Homer the nightly task of reading works by Dickens and Bronte to the orphans in both the girls' and boys' divisions.(10) In this capacity, Homer develops a relationship with another "older" orphan, Melony, who, like himself, has yet to be adopted successfully. Melony functions as the first female character to affect Homer's understanding of the world of sexuality and trust. As with Larch, Homer's feelings about abortion, sex, and procreation become fundamentally altered by his relations with women. In the Dickensian tradition of the detective story, Melony's character provides Irving with the means for availing himself of the generic conventions of the detective mode to trace one of the principal desires of many orphans: to know the identity of their parents and to know who loves them. Melony's menacing attitude toward her undiscovered parents, as well as her promise to Homer that she will perform fellatio upon him if he locates the records of her parents' identity in Larch's office, inaugurates the quirky commitment that exists between Melony and Homer. Although her first investigation as Irving's de facto detective fails because Larch makes it a practice not to maintain adoption records, Melony searches for love in the person of Homer, whom she coerces into a promise that, in the fleeting world of St. Cloud's, must inevitably be broken:

"If I stay, you'll stay - is that what you're saying?" Melony asked him. Is that what I mean? thought Homer Wells. But Melony, as usual, gave him no time to think. "Promise me you'll stay as long as I stay, Sunshine," Melony said. She moved closer to him; she took his hand and opened his fingers and put his index finger in her mouth. (105)

While Homer and Melony develop a sexual relationship, even a loving relationship of sorts, Homer ultimately breaks his commitment to Melony when he goes to live at Heart's Rock upon the invitation of Wally Worthington and Candy Kendall.

Irving later reintroduces the Dickensian detective story after Melony searches for Homer and finally confronts him in the Worthington's orchard. In addition to immediately recognizing Angel as Homer and Candy's son, Irving's orphan cum detective later succeeds in finding Homer, despite her untimely death, when her cadaver tracks Homer to St. Cloud's and metaphorically unravels his secret identity as Dr. F. Stone. While Irving employs the detective mode to entertain his readers with suspense - as with the detective story that undergirds the latter third of his most recent novel, A Widow for One Year (1998) - the ethics of storytelling insists that Irving employ Melony's investigation to establish a layer in Homer's characterscape that will eventually contribute to his return to St. Cloud's as Larch's replacement. While Melony's detective tale allows Irving to establish the gravity of Homer's betrayal of her, as well as that of his subsequent betrayal of Wally Worthington, it also affects the manner in which he sees the "sins" of others. As with Larch's convoluted relationships with women in The Cider House Rules, Homer's broken promise to Melony and his secret love for Candy teach him to see life's variegated shades of meaning, to understand the foibles of human interaction, and to recognize that a legalistic approach to "rules" never reveals the full complexity of any situation.