Psycho-analytic Approach of "Hands"

"Hands" 

by Sherwood Anderson

Plot Summary:

         While pacing on the decaying porch of his small house near a ravine on the outskirts of Winesburg, Ohio, a fat man watches young adults passing in a wagon on a highway beyond an expanse of weeds. They are boisterous berry pickers returning from the fields. One fellow jumps out and tries to pull a girl after him. She screams in mock protest. Then, seeing the man on the porch across the weed field, calls out to him, “Oh, you Wing Biddlebaum, comb your hair, it's falling into your eyes.” The man is bald.
          Wing Biddlebaum, who is full of self-doubts, has only one real friend in town, George Willard. George, a reporter for the Winesburg Eagle, is the son of Tom Willard, operator of the New Willard House. Sometimes Tom could be seen on the highway walking to Biddlebaum's house. Biddlebaum wishes that Willard would visit him on this evening. Wing walks across the field of weeds and looks toward town for a moment and then, afraid, hurries back to the porch and resumes pacing.
Whenever he is with Willard, Biddlebaum's shyness eases, and he talks animatedly on his porch with his friend or sometimes goes into town with him. Biddlebaum talks with his hands. In fact, says the narrator, “The story of Wing Biddlebaum is a story of hands.” His hands move like the wings of a captive bird—hence, his nickname, Wing. Not that he wants to gesticulate. He would rather hide his hands, and he looks with envy upon those who have them under control.
           Sometimes, when talking with George, Wing beats his fists on a wall or table—or even on a stump or a fence if they are outdoors. Doing so makes him feel more at ease. And they are fast hands. He can pick as many as one hundred forty quarts of strawberries in one day. The townsfolk are proud of his hands. They are legendary in Winesburg, where Wing has lived for the last twenty years.
            George had often wanted to question him about his hands—about their movements and his tendency to hide the hands. One summer afternoon he is on the verge of doing so when Wing is telling him he tries to be too much like other people in the town. “You are destroying yourself," he cried. "You have the inclination to be alone and to dream and you are afraid of dreams.” To help him make his point, Wing beats on a grass bank.
            Wing then dreams of a scene in which young men gather around a wise old man under tree. Laying his hands on George's shoulders, Wing tells him what the old man said: “You must try to forget all you have learned. You must begin to dream. From this time on you must shut your ears to the roaring of the voices.”
             Suddenly Wing puts his hands in his pockets. Tears well in his eyes, and he says he must go home. He hurries away. George, unsettled by the terror in Wing's eyes, vows not to ask him about his hands. There's something strange about them. He thinks his hands are responsible for his timidity, his fear of everyone. George is right, and the narrator tells the story of Wing's hands.
             When he was young, Wing—his actual name is Adolph Myers—taught school in a Pennsylvania. There the boys liked him, for he was gentle to them. He often walked with the boys after school or sat talking with them outside the school on the steps. His hands would touch their shoulders or tousle their hair. His voice was soft. His voice and hands were instruments of kindness.
            “And then the tragedy,” the narrator says. “A half-witted boy of the school became enamored of the young master. In his bed at night he imagined unspeakable things and in the morning went forth to tell his dreams as facts.”
              He made accusations. People believed him. Then, under questioning from parents, students of Myers said he would run his fingers through their hair or put his arms around them. One day, a saloonkeeper named Henry Bradford, whose son was one of the boys Myers touched, went to the school, beat him with his fists, and kicked him around the schoolyard. That night, a group of men drove Myers out of town.
              He changed his name to Biddlebaum and settled in Winesburg, where he has lived for twenty years. During the whole of his first year in town, he was ill in reaction to his bad experience in Pennsylvania. Early on, he lived with an elderly aunt, who raised chickens. After she died, he was on his own. Upon his recovery from his illness, he became a field laborer and developed the habit of hiding his hands.
              Wing is only forty, but he looks sixty-five. After pacing on his porch until dusk, he goes inside and makes himself a snack: slices of bread spread with honey. A train rumbles by carrying the day's harvest of berries. Afterward, Wing goes back out on the porch and resumes pacing. In the gathering darkness, he cannot see his hands. As a result, they behave themselves.
He goes back inside, washes dishes, and opens a folding cot and puts it next to the screen door that opens onto the porch. Spying on the floor a few crumbs of bread from his snack, he brings a lamp near and picks up the crumbs and eats them. As he kneels there, he resembles a priest carrying out a ritual. In the dim light, he also looks like a petitioner hurrying his fingers through the beads of a rosary. 

Analysis: 

Id:  This aspect of personality is entirely unconscious and includes of the instinctive and primitive behaviors.

• One summer afternoon he is on the verge of doing so when Wing is telling him he tries to be too much like other people in the town. “You are destroying yourself," he cried. "You have the inclination to be alone and to dream and you are afraid of dreams.”

• Laying his hands on George's shoulders, Wing tells him what the old man said: “You must try to forget all you have learned. You must begin to dream. From this time on you must shut your ears to the roaring of the voices.”

• His hands would touch their shoulders or tousle their hair. His voice was soft. His voice and hands were instruments of kindness. 

   

 Ego: Operates based on the reality principle which strives to satisfy the id's desires in realistic and socially appropriate ways. The reality principle weighs the costs and benefits of an action before deciding to act upon or abandon impulses.

• Suddenly Wing puts his hands in his pockets. Tears well in his eyes, and he says he must go home.

• He thinks his hands are responsible for his timidity, his fear of everyone. George is right, and the narrator tells the story of Wing's hands.

    

Superego:  Is the aspect of personality that holds all of our internalized moral standards and ideals that we acquire from both parents and society - our sense of right and wrong.

• Sometimes, when talking with George, Wing beats his fists on a wall or table—or even on a stump or a fence if they are outdoors. Doing so makes him feel more at ease.

• To help him make his point, Wing beats on a grass bank.

   

 

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