A Tangent on Observation

Today in seminar we got distracted while discussing how Kierkegaard handles the theme of observation in Repetition. The theme is clearly pervasive with the narrator even telling his reader that, “I ordinarily have a tendency to relate to other people merely as an observer (6) . . .” Kierkegaard observes because he believes that we are most ourselves when we are alone, and the ability to be genuine while being watched is rare. This brings me to the tangent by which we found ourselves distracted.

The narrator within Repetition tells the story of how he observes a young woman every time that he cannot sleep. She walks out to her garden every morning, smelling the flowers and basking in the glory of its beauty. The narrator finds this sight to be gorgeous, the very definition of repetition, and many in the class found his enjoyment of this sight to be a type of repetition itself. However, I found this slightly disturbing, as repetition is supposed to be good thing that brings joy to your life (as discussed in an earlier post) and the narrator seems like a stalker to me. After all, he admits to hiding in the bushes, and speaks of this girl in a somewhat jealous tone, writing, “If a man ever wins your love, I hope you make him as happy by being everything to him, as you make me by doing nothing for me (36).” This just strikes me as odd, and a little obsessive. Still, this is not the first time that the narrator has admitted to “observing” a young woman.

Starting on page 34, the narrator begins speaking of a young lady that he has taken notice of at the theater. Just like the narrator, the young woman attends the theater every night, and he finds as much enjoyment in watching her as he does the show. At first this seemed innocent enough to me, but when paired with his stalking of the girl in the garden it seems like a pattern of less-than-normal behavior is established. This feeling was underline when I realized that even the narrator knew that it would be bad if he were caught watching the young woman, as he admits, “She had no idea that she was being observed, much less that I kept watch over her. It would not have been good for her had she known, and it would have been even worse for me (35) . . .”

Overall, though the narrator finds comfort and pleasure from “observing” these girls, and he does it continuously without tiring from it, I would say that it is too perverse to be considered repetition. Instead, I would call it stalking.