Many critical commentators have pointed out that Ring Lardner's best work was done in the field of satiric comedy. Sometimes his work was more satirical than comic, and sometimes vice versa. His short story, "Haircut," is definitely an exponent of the former, because within the satire of Haircut are some undoubtedly repulsive and tragic elements. The story concerns the events in a small unnamed Michigan town as told by a barber while he is cutting a client's hair. He tells of the death of Jim Kendall, a practical joker whose comedy and other actions leave virtue much desired, and who is killed by a supposedly accidental shooting during a hunt. The only clear theme of the story involves the satirizing of smug small town values, portrayed through Whitey's narration. In this paper I will show how the character of the barber illustrates these deficient values, and how these set the stage for a traditional interpretation of "Haircut" -- one where Jim is deserving of his fate. Finally, I will contrast this interpretation with other critical interpretations, which argue that Lardner's purpose is not so clear, but obfuscated by ambiguity.

The Small Town Barber and Traditional Interpretation

From the outset of the story we observe the uneducated and unintelligent qualities of the barber, whose name we learn is "Whitey." His muddled language, full of diction and syntax errors, immediately make the reader skeptical of his reliability. In the opening sentences, for example, Whitey says "You can see for yourself that this ain't no New York City and besides that, the most of the boys works all day and don't have no leisure to drop in here and get themselves all prettied up." The conversational language of the small town, filled with slang and bad pronunciation, riddles the entire narration. Whitey says, "I bet they was more laughin' done here than any town its size in America," and "he'd be settin' in this chair part of the time," and she'd divorced him only they wasn't no chance to get alimony and she didn't have no way to take care of herself and the kids."

This suspicion of Whitey's trustworthiness and character is further characterized by his interpretations of events. Throughout the narration he shows a profound appreciation for the cruel tactics and jokes of Jim. From the beginning Whitey's opinion is made clear: "When he was alive, him and Hod Meyers used to keep this town in an uproar" or "He was kind of rough, but a good fella at heart." Whitey describes one of Jim's favorite jokes -- sending letters to shop owners (whose names he had seen on signs while riding the train) implying that their wives were unfaithful -- as a "great trick". Moreover, he tells enthusiastically how "Jim used to have all kinds of fun with Paul" (a mentally retarded boy in the town) by sending him to a garage for a "left-handed monkey wrench" when no such tool exists.

Even Jim's most savage and cruel acts are casually dismissed by Whitey. For instance, he tells how Jim attempts to rape Julie, a woman in the town romantically involved with Doc Stair (the town doctor), and afterwards how he humiliates her through a practical joke. Despite Doc's statement concerning the joke -- "anybody that would do such a thing like that ought not to be let live" -- Whitey waves it off with "I thought he was all right at heart, but just bubbling over with mischief." His insensitivity are illustrated vividly here; an insensitivity that stems from his shocking ignorance. Moreover, one can only conclude that Whitey himself is plagued with a cruel streak -- how else to explain his perverse appreciation of Jim's debased nature?

The irony evident here in Whitey's failure to recognize what are clearly malevolent acts works to convey the theme of smug values in a small town. Whitey thinks the town is unique, completely oblivious to the fact that many such towns have Jim Kendalls. In one sense Whitey is a vicarious participant in Jim's actions (Geimer 971). And we can make a reasonable assumption that more individuals in the town than Whitey have similar guilt -- indeed he relates how whoever was sitting in Jim's favorite chair in the barber's shop would vacate upon Jim's arrival, showing an inordinate amount of respect. Furthermore, he describes the town as just not being the same in Jim's absence.

The traditional interpretation, in light of the obvious cruelty of Jim, is that his death (undoubtedly no accident) was justice served, that he "richly deserves his fate" (Robinson 175). In this regard, the story is set up as a morality play in which evil is rightfully punished by the hand of a holy fool in Paul, who "accidentally" shoots Jim. In this interpretation, Paul is freed from any guilt by the town authorities for his half-wittedness, and probably also for his "holiness" -- or the underlying morality of his action (Robinson 175). The reader is left feeling that justice has been restored. Julie and Doc's love is freed from Jim's harassment; the evil prankster is given his just dessert. The barber, Whitey, is also seen as a half-wit and an agent -- not of justice like Paul, but of telling: he makes sure that the reader knows what happened, though he doesn't comprehend it himself (Robinson 175).

Contrasting Interpretations

The traditional interpretation has received many challenges from literary critics. Charles E. May (1973) takes exception to the moralistic analysis by saying that "it ignores the act in the story which is more evil than Jim's jokes; that is, Jim's 'accidental death'" (no page number). May contends that murder, albeit of a sick person, should not be condoned. For May, the entire town conspires in the cover-up of the murder, and Whitey, as the narrator, attempts to coax the reader into a similar extrication; he tries to pull the reader into the "obtuse moral sense" of the small town and gain the sanction of the reader of "the extreme penalty for Jim as his just deserts for his practical jokes." May's conclusion is that Lardner is satirizing the reader's acquiescence to the murder: "The barber says at the end that 'Jim was a sucker to leave a new beginner have his gun...' But the biggest sucker of all is the reader, who, by allowing himself to be taken in by Lardner's control of the story and thus feel so morally superior to the barber, becomes an accomplice to the most evil act of all."

Thus the comparison in the traditional interpretations and May's analysis runs as such: the traditionalists put Lardner and the people in the town on the just side, effectively upholding a faith in the ultimate good of humanity; but May pays closer heed to the uneasy idiosyncrasies of Whitey's narration and aligns the Lardner against the reader and the unjust people of the town. For May, Jim's behavior is cruel, but even more cruel is the murder. May's interpretation, as Robinson notes, "has the effect of shaking up our moral complacency, our willingness to place on events or stories whatever interpretation is most conducive to our immediate peace of mind" (176).

May's criticism was further expanded by Sarah Gilead (1985). She posits that May's critique of the hypocritical town and the hypocritical reader should be extended to Lardner himself. She maintains that Lardner "both condones Jim's murder and covertly attacks the reader for condoning it. The author, like the readers, separates himself by an insuperable moral gulf from Jim's vicious jokes; indirectly defends Jim by ultimately portraying him as a victim of greater violence than even he had been capable of; and, finally, identifies with Jim by himself taking on the role of trickster" (333). Gilead accuses Lardner of weakness and ambiguity as the author of the story. Hence, in the previous quote, she asserts that Lardner sets up the traditional reading by distancing himself from Jim, then sets up May's critique by making Jim a victim of a greater violence, and finally he sets up her critique by taking on the role of a trickster seen in Jim. Her conclusion, then, is that guilt should be laid at Lardner's doorstep for "radical incoherence as an authoritative presence behind the text" (333).

The significance of Gilead's critique is in the idea of authoritarial intention (Robinson 177). She damages any notion that the author is an autonomous subject with free reign to send a plain and clear message. May takes all previous critiques a step further by extending the guilt to Lardner, going as so far as to say that he leaves the audience "shorn, bereft of moral lessons and certainties" (333). As Robinson points out, it is as if she, through her moralistic interpretation, seeks to lay guilt on someone for the apparent absence of any moral agency in "Haircut" (177). And implicit in her critique is the idea that an author must send an unambiguous message, lest he be guilty of leaving the reader confused. I, for one, would certainly take exception to this analysis. Fiction is stimulating for the very reason she so disdains: in its contradiction and ambiguities the reader is left to solve the dilemma by himself -- to sort out the subtlety and confusion through contemplation. What else is fiction if not to stir the mind?

Conclusion

There are certain things we can be sure about in "Haircut." For one, the narrator, Whitey, is a half-wit who symbolizes the deficient and complacent values of small town life. Jim is a sadistic bully. But as we look to further analyze the characters and meanings in the story we run into the very issues that the aforementioned literary critics addressed. How are we to judge Doc and Paul, and indeed the rest of the town, for their apparent role in the cover-up of Jim's murder? Did Jim receive his due punishment? Was Lardner attempting to satirize the reader for his quick acceptance of the outcome of the story? Should the reader feel reassured at the conclusion of the story?

These questions stand no better chance of being answered today as they did when Lardner wrote the story. It is possible that not even Lardner, if we accept Gilead's critique, would be able to articulate the fundamental message in "Haircut." Ultimately, perhaps Lardner did want to convey conflicting messages. And if so, all the better. One of the great tasks that a good author can accomplish is to lay in front of the reader a dilemma with no easy solution -- there is nothing wrong with complexity and ambiguity. If the author does not solve the dilemma, it is no less of a work of art.

References Cited

Geimer, Roger. "Haircut." Masterplots II: Short Stories Series. New Jersey: Salok Press, 1996.

Gilead, Sarah. "Lardner's Discourses of Power." Studies in Short Fiction 22 (1985): 331-37

May, Charles E. "Lardner's HAIRCUT." The Explicator 31:9 (May 1973): #69.

Robinson, Douglas. Ring Lardner and the Other. New York: Oxford University Press, 1992.