Saturn and the Rings of Change

It's now 1990. I'm forty-three years old, which would've seemed impossible to a fourth grader, and yet when I look at photographs of myself as I was in 1956, I realize that in the important ways I haven't changed at all. I was Timmy then; now I'm Tim. But the essence remains the same. I'm not fooled by the baggy pants or the crew cut or the happy smile—I know my own eyes—and there is no doubt that the Timmy smiling at the camera is the Tim I am now. Inside the body, or beyond the body, there is something absolute and unchanging. The human life is all one thing, like a blade tracing loops on ice: a little kid, a twenty-three-year-old infantry sergeant, a middle-aged writer knowing guilt and sorrow. (236)


Tim O'Brien feels his life is one thing and his body is unchanging. You shall forever be who you once were, although you gain new knowledge or gain new experiences and these mold you around the basic principle of your original being. Your original self is like the planet Saturn and these new experiences are the constantly forming rings around the planet. Your stagnant being is who you are. Your eyes and name are distinctive unchanging qualities. The changing or moldable parts of your life can be transfigured by the experiences you encounter. Oftentimes the outer rings are what you predominantly show and are also the most important piece of your character. One experience which really molded O'Brien's life was the Vietnam War.

In his quote, O'Brien in his young years was the "Timmy smiling at the camera... with the baggy pants and crew cut and happy smile"(O'Brien). However now he is the "middle aged writer knowing guilt and sorrow"(O'Brien). Has his attitude and life not changed due to his experiences, namely in the Vietnam War? "The central incident-our long night in the shit field along the Song Tra Bong-has been restored to the piece. It was hard stuff to write. Kiowa, after all, had been a close friend, and for years I've avoided thinking about his death and my own complicity in it. Even here it's not easy. In the interests of truth, however, I want to make it clear that Norman Bowker is in no way responsible for what happened to Kiowa. Norman did not experience a failure of nerve that night. He did not freeze or lose the silver star for valor. That part of the story is my own"(O'Brien 161). In the previous chapter, O'Brien says Norman Bowker could have won the silver star and felt as if Kiowa's death was his responsibility because he lost his nerve. He states how Norman Bowker "could not talk about it and never would. He was folded in with the war;he was part of the waste"(O'Brien 153). This was not Norman Bowker's experience, but rather the author's. After manipulating the reader, O'Brien makes it clear that the story was his own. Has O'Brien not changed? He still cannot bear the thought of Kiowa's death and his responsibility and his silver star he almost won. His manipulation and duplicity is because of embarrassment and shame and speculation. O'Brien still is sorrowful and has not healed from the atrocious war in Vietnam. While his name and eyes may not have changed, his experiences have certainly transfigured his rings, the most important piece of Tim O'Brien.