In Saki's story "Sredni Vashtar," a small boy's disquieting behavior is oddly justified. The reader finds himself taken in by Saki's portrayal of the beleaguered spirit of Conradin. Conradin suffers from a loneliness anyone can understand. He is harassed by the nagging of his overbearing cousin and lives primarily in the halls of his imagination.
"One of these days Conradin supposed he would succumb to the mastering pressure of wearisome necessary things--such as illnesses and coddling restrictions and drawn-out dullness. Without his imagination, which was rampant under the spur of loneliness, he would have succumbed long ago."
Saki skillfully guides the reader into Conradin's perspective. He is not just a small boy aimlessly entertaining himself in a tool-shed; he is a noble personage fighting banality and tedium. Without Saki's masterful writing, we might not see this household as a battleground. But we see a battleground as plain as day when we see life through Conradin's eyes. And in battle we must take sides. The reader naturally falls into step with Conradin against his guardian and cousin, who
"...would never, in her honestest moments, have confessed to herself that she disliked Conradin, though she might have been dimly aware that thwarting him 'for his good' was a duty which she did not find particularly irksome."
Mrs. De Ropp takes pleasure in bossing around Conradin. We rally for Conradin.
Through the eyes of the story, we see Conradin fighting for his life. Conradin's imagination envelops us. When the ferret mortally attacks the purse-lipped cousin, the reader momentarily exalts at the victory and then is appalled at Conradin's cold-hearted response. The reader is left feeling guilty for having aligned with Conradin. Saki has tricked us.
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