Alas for Linden!
Donaldson has said, "Reading is an interactive process. Readers have always supplied their own interpretations of what they read." And this notion has never been more clear to me than when discussing a chapter about Linden Avery. What someone believes is happening depends so much on what preconceptions they carry when they read it.
I commend you, Savor Dam, on a very fine dissection. I won't say I disagree with some of the points you raise, but I will say that I see things in another light than you. And apparently most everyone else as well. So, I must represent.
The overarching purpose of this chapter seems clear. It's the first Linden chapter since the resurrection. And it ends with the shocking capitulation with the Harrow. The purpose, therefore, is to explain, and to a large degree justify, why Linden has done what she has done, and how the consequences of the resurrection contribute to that decision.
It was really hard for me to see that at first because of the other action that enters and leaves center stage. We have the Dead, we have Infelice, we have the Giants, and we have the succor of Covenant, all interjecting diversions to this central thread.
My impression of this central thread is this: Donaldson is trying to be exceptionally clear about why Linden decides to do what she decides to do. And so every thought that Linden has, Donaldson writes a paragraph. He's being explicit here to the point of epic Donaldson long-windedness.
But that's
Donaldson, people. Not Linden. Like Jessica Rabbit, it's the way she's drawn.
Nor do I see any case here for Linden wallowing in self-pity or trying to foist responsibility on others or a lack of confidence. C'mon. Sometimes people cave because they're weak and they could have done better, and sometimes people cave because nothing can stand up to what they are against.
And here's my point about reading and preconceptions: If you come into this chapter thinking Linden is a wuss, then when you read about how the shock of what she has done has caused her to want to give up, you will see her being more of a wuss. But if you come into this chapter thinking Linden has done better than anyone else could have done, then when you read about how the shock of what she has done has caused her to want to give up, you will see a person who tried valiantly but it was all too god-damn impossible.
You will see someone who is insufficient because she is weak, or you will see someone who is insufficient because circumstances are unbeatable.
But if you read what Donaldson writes, you can figure out which way he, at least, sees it. This chapter explains in the greatest detail Linden's dilemma, her thoughts, and her conclusions. This is, as I have said, Linden's One Tree moment. She is facing her best effort and only hope ending in disaster. As far as she knows, there is no hope left. Covenant sees this, and pities her, because he's been there. (And may have even put her there ... but that must wait for a later chapter.)
Linden wants someone to tell her what to do. Why? She has exhausted all the options she could try. Linden wants someone else to save the world. Why? Because she has proven that she can't, beyond the shadow of her own doubt.
Two things Donaldson writes are critical, as I see it.
In Against All Things Ending was wrote:Instead she was crowded to bursting with dismay.
Dismay: not despair. Despair was darkness, the nailed lid of a coffin. Her dismay was a moral convulsion, the shock of seeing her whole reality distorted beyond recognition. She had left any ordinary loss of hope or faith behind as soon as she had realized that Covenant was not whole. Now she felt an appalled chagrin like the onset of concussion, simultaneously paralyzing and urgent. The cost of what she had done dwarfed thought.
In Against All Things Ending was wrote:She loved the Land. She loved Thomas Covenant and Jeremiah. The Ramen and the Ranyhyn and the Giants. Liand and Stave and poor Anele.
No, the Linden I see isn't weak. The Linden I see is strong, just not strong enough.
(Why would Donaldson write about a wuss, anyway?)
When you think about it, these tangential intrusions into the chapter's core theme are related.
At this time, the Dead decide to display a little scene for Linden. Kevin is forgiven. He had to wait 8,000 years, so that his ancestors would forgive him at JUST this time.
Surely, there's a message for Linden in this. Two, that I can see. One, that one can be admirable despite having made a catastrophic choice. And two, that a catastrophic choice from an admirable person isn't going to help Foul.
Hint, hint, Linden. (Hint, hint, reader.)
Then we have Infelice going on and on about the Worm, as if to make Linden feel worse about it than she already does.
But then the Giants arrive, and bear a story about the treachery of the Elohim, one that they JUST found out about. They are dispicable liars who have no qualms about abusing mortal beings.
Hint, hint, Linden. (Hint, hint, reader.)
Finally, we have Covenant, who is brought around just in time to say, "Do any of you have a better idea?"
Hint, hint, Linden. (Hint, hint, reader.)
(And if you believe that Linden is a wuss, then you will see Covenant do this and think, he's lost it. But if you believe Linden is strong but choiceless, then when you read this, you will think, This is what the Timewarden had wanted Linden to do. The preconceptions going in dictate one's interpretation, which become the next chapter's preconceptions.)
I think that, if you come to the end of this chapter, and are not convinced that Linden had no other course of action than the one she takes, you may be in for a bit of a slog. Certainly, you won't recognize that she was maneuvered into a situation where this was her only real choice, when the time comes.