Critical Essay
“Between us are the rat race millions who nightly scavenge the cable channels looking for they know not what. I am sorry for them.” Is it possible to have not a cent in the world, yet still have more than the richest man alive? Can it be that the world’s ugliest manifestations can be perceived also as the most beautiful, if the eye were only tweaked ever so slightly? Is it conceivable that one could view trash, not as a parasite on the flesh of the earth, but as an infinitely interesting science with as many rules, regulations and practical uses as the science we use to view the spiraling helix of DNA, the essence of humanity? Lars Eighner proposes, through his sarcastic, condescending and flippant tones, his concise and critical word choices, and the rhetorical strategies he uses in “On Dumpster Diving” that, yes indeed, garbage is all of this and more.
Eighner’s tone throughout the story is comic, and seemingly lighthearted:
“I would naturally prefer to live the comfortable consumer life, perhaps – and only perhaps – as a slightly less wasteful consumer, owing to what I have learned as a scavenger.”
He laughs condescendingly at the well-off: “I share an attitude with the very wealthy, we both know there is plenty more where that came from.” Yet on closer analysis, one realizes it is not the jubilant laughter of a content Eighner, but the sad laughter of a man who sees the world more critically. In the glare and clarity of his perceptions, he sees the unnecessary waste the human race unknowingly accumulates. Through his sardonic rhetorical style, Eighner mocks the excesses of our consumer society.
The dumpster is a platform for him to preach and lecture society about wastefulness. He uses it to prove that, with the proper precautions, anyone can happily survive as a dumpster diver, living off the trash of others, and can come to treasure items that have been rejected. Why should they be cast aside and forgotten? Eighner uses sarcasm to cast shame upon our wasteful wealth.
Eighner also chooses very simple and concise words throughout his story, to convey the simple life of a scavenger. But the simplicity of his language often masks his satirical humor:
“I began dumpster diving about a year before I became homeless. I prefer the word scavenging and use the word scrounging when I mean to be obscure. I have heard people, evidently meaning to be polite, use the word foraging but I prefer to reserve that word for gathering nuts and berries and such, which I do also according to the season and opportunity.”
He informs the reader straightforwardly and proudly how he feels about his occupation as a dumpster diver. But it is through elaborate imagery and thorough detail that he subtly transitions the reader into the day-to-day life of a scavenger:
“I learned to scavenge gradually on my own…I have learned that there is a predictable series of stages a person goes through in learning to scavenge. At first the new scavenger is filled with disgust and self-loathing. He is ashamed of being seen and may lurk around trying to duck behind things, or he may try to dive at night. Every grain of rice seems to be a maggot.”
Eventually the scavenger views the dump less as a garbage heap and more as a veritable shopping mall:
“The scavenger finds a pair of running shoes that look and smell brand new. He finds a pocket calculator in perfect working order. He finds pristine ice cream, still frozen. He begins to understand: People throw away perfectly good stuff, a lot of perfectly good stuff.”
He gives careful instructions on what is safe to eat: “Raw fruits and vegetables with intact skins seem perfectly safe to me, excluding of course the obviously rotten. Many are discarded for minor imperfections that can be pared away.” He also warns about such things as eating out of punctured cans. In this way, he convinces the reader that one does not have to perish in a mass of dumpster perishables, but can thrive on mint-condition foods simply thrown away out of boredom, laziness or ignorance. This is a survival guide with necessary instructions included.
What is trash? Is the half of the pie that we cannot finish, because our eyes are bigger than our mouths, any less delicious than the half already in our stomach? Are the watches we discard, because we found one that is more stylish, any less useful? What is trash? Is it the remnants of things that have seen a day too many, harnessed together into one malodorous mound? Or is it a limitless shopping spree? Maybe it’s time to get into those bikinis or swim trunks and dive in.
ss 10-18-04
