In Men in the Sun, the main characters are placed in a transient, unsettled state, a kind of social and moral purgatory. Purgatory is a fluctuating state of existence between life in this world and the next. In much the same way, these characters go through life with no eye on the present. That is to say their present state would be completely meaningless if not for ruminations of the cherished past - the time before they were uprooted - and aspirations of a remote future - when they are able to establish roots in the soil once again.
I believe their present situation is in fact more tragic than what is suggested above. A journey, after all, means nothing outside of its point of origin and its point of closure. To say that these characters derive no meaning from their peripatetic present is, then, not so outrageous. The lack of meaning derived from the present can at least be understood as a direct outcome of their peripatetic existence. And closure is possible, if only in theory, even though it is contingent on attaining the dignity and stability of a future home. So what makes the lives of these characters so tragic?
For me, the tragedy entails from the absence of any possibility of closure, of resolution, in their lives. Closure, after all, is only possible when there is a clear vision of what is being strived for. However, these characters have been "on the road" for so long they have completely forgotten what it means to be rooted. "The road! Were there still roads in this world? Hadn't he wiped them with his forehead and washed them in his sweat for days and days?" (29). Living precariously, in material terms, since the moment of being uprooted has caused these characters to associate home with material contentment. In doing so, they lose sight of the emotional and moral implications of being rooted in a particular place. They may long for the particulars of a home, for normalcy, - Abu Qais, for example, desires a roof and the ten trees he once owned - but the desire for these particulars, belies the actual loss they feel. The "dream and fantasy" of all that exists in Kuwait (26), thus, is merely an illusory stand-in for the inarticulable and irreversible loss of a homeland.
This is why their lives lack all possibility of resolution. In the precariousness of a nomadic existence, they have forgotten what it means to be rooted, especially in emotional and moral terms. This is illustrated well in the instance when Abul Khuzairun first compares the road to Kuwait to the Narrow Path of Abrahamic lore. With a clear and definite end in sight, the Narrow Path is a journey in which closure is real and attainable. The road to Kuwait, however, even if it is successfully completed is not the end of the characters' journey towards a home. The characters may find material affluence here, but not emotional comfort or moral stability. No wonder that Abul Khaizuran scoffs at the very comparison he himself suggested, between their road and the Narrow Path. The Narrow Path, after all, has a definite end and contains the possibility of closure, whereas their journey towards a home (in this case, conflated with the road to Kuwait) is interminable and, hence, meaningless. In fact, it is not even a journey, but an empty road, like the road to Kuwait, one they toiled over till the end. One needs only to imagine a life without end, an interminable purgatory, to understand the emotional and moral vacuousness of life on a never-ending road.
I believe their present situation is in fact more tragic than what is suggested above. A journey, after all, means nothing outside of its point of origin and its point of closure. To say that these characters derive no meaning from their peripatetic present is, then, not so outrageous. The lack of meaning derived from the present can at least be understood as a direct outcome of their peripatetic existence. And closure is possible, if only in theory, even though it is contingent on attaining the dignity and stability of a future home. So what makes the lives of these characters so tragic?
For me, the tragedy entails from the absence of any possibility of closure, of resolution, in their lives. Closure, after all, is only possible when there is a clear vision of what is being strived for. However, these characters have been "on the road" for so long they have completely forgotten what it means to be rooted. "The road! Were there still roads in this world? Hadn't he wiped them with his forehead and washed them in his sweat for days and days?" (29). Living precariously, in material terms, since the moment of being uprooted has caused these characters to associate home with material contentment. In doing so, they lose sight of the emotional and moral implications of being rooted in a particular place. They may long for the particulars of a home, for normalcy, - Abu Qais, for example, desires a roof and the ten trees he once owned - but the desire for these particulars, belies the actual loss they feel. The "dream and fantasy" of all that exists in Kuwait (26), thus, is merely an illusory stand-in for the inarticulable and irreversible loss of a homeland.
This is why their lives lack all possibility of resolution. In the precariousness of a nomadic existence, they have forgotten what it means to be rooted, especially in emotional and moral terms. This is illustrated well in the instance when Abul Khuzairun first compares the road to Kuwait to the Narrow Path of Abrahamic lore. With a clear and definite end in sight, the Narrow Path is a journey in which closure is real and attainable. The road to Kuwait, however, even if it is successfully completed is not the end of the characters' journey towards a home. The characters may find material affluence here, but not emotional comfort or moral stability. No wonder that Abul Khaizuran scoffs at the very comparison he himself suggested, between their road and the Narrow Path. The Narrow Path, after all, has a definite end and contains the possibility of closure, whereas their journey towards a home (in this case, conflated with the road to Kuwait) is interminable and, hence, meaningless. In fact, it is not even a journey, but an empty road, like the road to Kuwait, one they toiled over till the end. One needs only to imagine a life without end, an interminable purgatory, to understand the emotional and moral vacuousness of life on a never-ending road.
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