The Price of Salt: The Bitterness of Motherhood

I am writing this blog post in the library a day after finishing Patricia Highsmith's novel The Price of Salt; or Carol (1952). Of course, I forgot to bring my copy--notes and all--with me. I might have to edit this post later this afternoon.

ANYWAYS. The Price of Salt is one of the loveliest novels I have read in a long time just on the level of its prose. The prose is just so light, despite its content, and frequently incorporates these strong metaphorical images--Carol's hair is perfume held to the light--that bring such a sensual tone to the book.

Like, the text just conflates all of the senses through metaphors and it brings such an immersiveness. I keep saying sensual because it's all I can think of. Because Therese keeps mixing touch, taste, sound, sight, and smell, the reader breathes and drinks Carol. You are just submerged into Carol's essence and it's so intoxicating. Highsmith brings a sexiness to the novel that is somehow innocent and light. It's a hard tightrope to walk, but Highsmith navigates it beautifully.

The trickiest thing about the novel to me is its ending. Yes, its happy because Therese is happy. Therese has gotten exactly what she has wanted: a fulfilling relationship with Carol. But what about Carol herself?

By being with Therese, Carol gives up any hope of being Rindy's mother for the time being. Earlier in the novel, Therese listens to Carol speak to her daughter on the phone and Therese observes that Carol will never love anyone in the world as much as she loves Rindy. But in the last chapter of the novel, once Carol has decided to pursue a relationship with Therese, Therese declares that Carol loves her more than her own daughter.

I'm not sure that this is fair. Or if I even buy it.

Only a few chapters earlier, Carol left Therese when her status as Rindy's mother was threatened. After flying back to New York and discovering how dire the situation truly is, she ends her relationship with Therese. The break up letter is clearly reluctant and obligatory; Carol must end the relationship--must suppress her identity as a queer woman--if she wants to maintain her identity as Rindy's mother. Therese disregards this information. She accepts this as pure betrayal which, in turn, completely alters her perception of Carol as a lover and as a person. To be honest, it seems insensitive on Therese's part (I find this especially awful because Therese herself was abandoned by her mother in favor of a romantic relationship--albeit a heterosexual one. I would expect some empathy with Rindy here! C'mon, Therese!)

Therese feels betrayed because Carol has denied their shared identity. Carol must "betray" Therese to fight for her maternal identity. Them's the brakes, kid.

The limitations put on the maternal identity are constantly shifting, but there are always limitations in place. To be a mother, you must be ___________, you must do ___________, and you must look like _________________. To be a mother, you cannot _________________ nor must you __________________. A good mother is __________________ and a bad mother is ______________. In the early 20th century, a good mother fed her baby formula. A good mother sent her child away to school. A good mother did not work. A good mother obeyed her husband and went to church. A good mother was white, heterosexual, and financially stable.

Yeah, you see where I am going with this.

The maternal identity is a cultural identity as much as it is an individual identity. When a woman does not conform to the cultural identity, her individual identity is at risk. The legal status of mother can be questioned and even taken away.

So how do mothers fight for their identities? Well, as we see with Carol, they conform. The risk is too large to be worth it. Sure, they can try to fight the courts, but there are no guarantees (I mean, it wasn't even until 2000 that the Supreme Court ruled that a biological parent had the right in choosing to raise their children as they see fit!).

Carol only ceases to conform once she realizes she will never get custody of her daughter. Her husband's family has more money, more social prestige, and more cultural capital. Her sexuality plays a large part, but it is clear that it is not the only factor at play. Once Carol truly concedes defeat and accepts that her maternal identity has been rescinded, she is "free" to construct a new identity with Therese.

So is Carol a "good" mother or a "bad" mother by the end of the novel. It is hard to say because we see so few interactions between herself and her daughter. That said, it is clear Carol loves Rindy and Rindy loves Carol. What is also clear is that filial love is just one way we construct the maternal identity, and so Carol isn't free to construct a maternal identity unique to her and her daughter. This limitation--it underpins the entire novel. It leads to Carol's hesitation, her awkwardness with her ex-husband, Therese and Carol's fugitive flight across the continent, and so forth. The novel's ending resolves the conflict created by the maternal identity for Therese--a young childless woman--but it certainly isn't a happy ending for Carol. Therese has found her identity; Carol has lost hers.

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