43 pages • 1 hour read
Adolfo Bioy CasaresThe Invention of Morel
Fiction | Novella | Adult | Published in 1940A modern alternative to SparkNotes and CliffsNotes, SuperSummary offers high-quality Study Guides with detailed chapter summaries and analysis of major themes, characters, and more.
Themes
Defining Consciousness and Life
Morel’s invention provokes questions about consciousness and life, particularly how to define the terms and how to determine if another being has either one. His assertions about his machines cause the narrator to re-examine his own ideas of consciousness and life.
Morel initially believed that his recording would be more like an assemblage of sensory vibrations, akin to capturing sound waves or visuals. He admits, “I was certain that my images of persons would lack consciousness of themselves (like the characters in a motion picture)” (70). He aimed to create a stepping stone above and beyond a motion picture toward a fuller, more sensory-based experience for the observer of the images, “with the sounds, tactile sensations, flavors, odors, temperatures, all synchronized perfectly” (70). It is from the observer’s perspective, however, that he grants consciousness to these reproductions, stating, “no one could distinguish them from living persons […]. If we grant consciousness, and all that distinguishes us from objects to the persons who surround us, we shall have no valid reason to deny it to the persons created by my machinery” (71). By placing the onus of ascertaining consciousness on the observer, he denies the experience (or lack thereof) of the projected subject.
In his thinking, the collection of senses is enough to signal consciousness, not just in the meaning of awareness, but in having the unique, personal traits and memories that constitute a person or identity. In short, he asserts, “When all the senses are synchronized, the soul emerges” (71). It does not matter to him that these supposedly soul-possessing entities do not exist if the machine is off; what matters is that they can be brought to life. He asks his audience, “Like the unheard music that lies latent in a phonograph record, where are we until God orders us to be born?” (71-72). In this question, he equates himself with God as the person responsible for these projected lives to exist while reducing his subjects to objects. His evidence for his theory lies within the effect of the transmissions on the living subjects: They die, which essentially means that their souls depart their bodies.
The narrator, however, concludes that Morel was wrong about the projections having consciousness. His conclusion arises from his different perspective on the output of Morel’s invention. Whereas Morel “witnessed and directed the work to its completion, […] I saw it in the completed form, already in operation” (80). Having spent weeks living with the images, the narrator concludes that it is a “case of the inventor who is duped by his own invention […] [Morel] has preserved nothing but sensations” (80-82). For Morel, that seems to be enough, but for the narrator, who longs for a romance with Faustine, it is not. The narrator still clings to his notion that “it is useless to try to keep the whole body alive” (82) and that what’s most important is to “preserve only the part that has to do with consciousness” (14); however, the fact that he imagines searching for Faustine out in the world shows that her image is not enough. He desires not the simulacrum of Faustine but the flesh-and-body woman, a caveat in his assertion of the supremacy of consciousness over the body. He knows that “The images are not alive” (82), but he believes that Morel was headed in the right direction, making progress toward recreating human life; he just fell short of recreating consciousness. The narrator retains his faith in better technology getting there, and so he submits himself to Morel’s experiment hoping the gap will be closed in the future. In the end, he accepts that the Faustine he sees is not alive or conscious. His hope lies with inventors who might be able to “let [him] enter the heaven of her consciousness” (103).
Memory versus Immortality
The quest for immortality is a common theme in literature and real life alike. However, death is a part of life and nature, a way for the world to renew itself, so the questions arise of why someone would seek immortality and what is behind that fear of death. For Morel, the answer may lie less in living and having new experiences than in the preservation of memory.
One of the keys to Morel’s take on immortality is in the name of the building where the visitors stay: the museum. This name confuses the narrator, for the building “could be a fine hotel for about fifty people, or a sanatorium” (14). Though there is some artwork, there are rooms in which to gather or sleep. Morel explains in his speech: “[It] is a survival of the time when I was working on plans for my invention, without knowing how it would eventually turn out. At that time I thought I would build large albums or museums, both public and private, filled with these images” (76). It would be an immersive experience to visit such a museum if one knew who the images were, far superior to a photograph or motion picture of a person because it would involve the other senses. Morel thinks of it as “an album of very durable and clear images, which would be a legacy from the present to the future; they would please your children and friends, and the coming generations whose customs will differ from our own” (70). When he perfects his machines, however, he believes that they will possess souls, a consciousness limited to the moment of the recording. His goals shift, then, to preserving the appearance of a happy time with friends and Faustine forever. Though the subjects are not technically immortal, their images from specific moments of their lives are. They “live a life that is always new, because in each moment of the projection we shall have no memories other than those we had in the corresponding moment of the eternal record” (76). Morel leaps to a conclusion here, that the images have the memories of the moment rather than just play out the scene.
The inventor is too reliant on his assumption that the images are aware and have the consciousness of those moments. If he is wrong—and the narrator believes he is—then his creations are little more than spectacular movie projections, complete with scent and texture. Just like objects in a museum, they hold no significance on their own; it is only when there is someone, a truly conscious being, around that they have any context or meaning. Objects are just objects until there is someone to remember them.
The Impact of Technology on Emotions
Written in the Modernist era, which was concerned with technology’s impact on humanity, Bioy Casares uses this novella to explore the issues that can arise when technology starts to take on lifelike qualities. This is most evident in the narrator’s relationship with Faustine, which is based on the author’s fascination with movie actress Louise Brooks. A movie-goer understands that their feelings, provoked by the actors on screen, are one-sided—the actors in a film are completely unaware of their existence because the projected movie is an artifact, not a living thing. Morel has amplified the projection, however, to be indistinguishable from real life to an observer. The narrator, in a sense, is Morel’s true test subject, the recipient of the results of his creation. As his understanding increases about Faustine’s image, questions emerge about the effects of technology on emotions and relationships.
Most people, the narrator included, make assumptions about other people's behaviors. The narrator reads many different moods and responses in Faustine’s apparent reactions to his declarations of love. She shows great “aplomb” when she doesn’t react to his jumping out at her (26); when he creates a flower garden for her, “she controlled her distaste and pretended, kindly, not to see [his] horrible little garden” (34). He is seeing not exactly what he wants to see but interpreting her behaviors as if they are a response to his. Therein lies the problem; his real emotions are based on a false premise: that she is conscious of him.
When he accepts the truth of Morel’s invention, the narrator’s initial reaction is “a feeling of scorn, almost disgust […] to be in love with one of those images was worse than being in love with a ghost (perhaps we always want the person we love to have the existence of a ghost)” (75). The images are too real, and he feels conned, perhaps even bored or irritated by their repetitious existence. However, Faustine’s unreality gives him an opportunity; his concession about “the existence of a ghost” shows his belief that sometimes, a person in love wants their beloved to have only that surface existence, living only when they are near.
Because Faustine is not real, she is the perfect surface for his projected desires. He eventually claims he is “able to view Faustine dispassionately, as a simple object” (79). His obsession does not abate, but it changes form. He no longer thinks about finding her in some other country because he knows that “[a]way from this island Faustine is lost with the gestures and the dreams of an alien past” (95). He has no other hope of love or human connection, as he cannot get off the island, and no one is likely to stop there for many years. Therefore, he takes advantage of the technology available to him to pretend they have a real relationship. That is when “death becomes the condition and the pawn for [his] eternal contemplation of Faustine” (100). By inserting himself into the recorded week, which kills him, a portion of his being—even just sensations—will stay with the recorded Faustine for as long as they both exist. It does not matter that Faustine is a technological reproduction because his emotions are real enough to see him through. As it is, he ends his life with a happy movie that technology creates, at the cost of his hair, skin, nails, sight, and life.
