The Dissatisfaction Of Disinterest: An Interpretation Of Bartleby The Scrivener

I found a kind of connection to Bartleby. I frequently come across things that I would prefer not to do. I would prefer to not have to clean up around the house, or do homework, or have to work. Some would say that it is the apathy of my generation, or perhaps more specifically, our dislike of anything that we do not find exciting. And you know what? Anyone who says that is probably right. But I do not find that to be such a bad thing.

To be clear, I do not mean that I think refusing to do everything that does not interest you is a good thing, or that your whole life should be one big hedonistic party. I am talking in a more limited scope. I am not saying everyone should quit their job and go do whatever it is they enjoy, but that you should try your hardest to make it so that your job, which is something you have to have, is something you can enjoy doing.

I have never had a real job, but what I have heard over and over from so many friends is how much they hate their jobs. And they tend to go through a lot of them, switching from being a waiter to a cashier at a grocery store back to a waiter somewhere else. But then again, there are some who truly do enjoy what they do, and they are the ones that keep one job, and work at it. They get promotions. They make more money. So is that not a better situation than the drifting employees who never work in one place long enough to make any sort of advancements? It is because they enjoy what they do that they are able to progress with their work, and then it becomes more than a job. It becomes an occupation.

What Bartleby lacked was something that could give him that excitement, and that is where I find my connection with him. Not on the level he had it, of course. I have no intention of giving up on life and starving to death. The best way to make a point about something in an art form such as literature is to blow it up and take it to an extreme, which is exactly what that ending does. But it does not prevent the reader from identifying with the point being made. Which, as I said previously, I do.

I have no clue what I will find to be enjoyable enough to devote my life to. That is why I am an undeclared major. I want to try things, see what I will have a drive to do. Right now, I cannot see myself being able to go to a job that I hate every day. I need more than that, and for me, this is what Bartleby represents. There is a need to have more to look forward to than a paycheck. You need to be able to find fulfillment in what you do. Some people do. He did not. Many people in reality do not. Most of them eventually find something that can get them by, even though they may not like it. Some of them never try to find what they want, and just go with the quickest and easiest fix. I may have to give up the search for what I can enjoy and live with, but I refuse to not try.