Unni Langås

What Did Nora Do? Thinking Gender with A Doll's House

Since its very first performance and for more than a century, A Doll’s House has for its critics, scholars and beholders raised the inevitable question: ‘‘Where did Nora go?’’ The dramatically effective sortie of the play’s heroine, where she leaves husband and three children in order to educate herself, tends to draw attention to what follows the actual events that take place on stage, rather than to their conditions and political implications. The shocking grand finale of A Doll’s House does obviously contribute to the longlasting discussion and actuality of the play, as well as to the relevance of its agenda. As such it is an incontestable artistic scoop. But it may also lead us to see the play more as a narrative about personal development and courage, and less as a play about gendered patterns of power in a patriarchal society. My purpose here is not to criticize Ibsen for his drastic ending – on the contrary, it has indeed proven successful – but to emphasize the ideological structures that come to light during the course of events. Opposing interpretations that on the one hand stress the universal, non-gender scope of the drama, and on the other hand the individual metamorphosis of the protagonist, I want to accentuate A Doll’s House as an analysis of how gender and gendersubordination are produced. My overall view is that this drama is not so much about Nora’s struggle to find herself as a human being, as it is about her shocking experience of being treated as a woman because of the acts that she performs. In contrast to the speculations concentrated in the question, ‘‘Where did Nora go?’’, I see the drama as an investigation into gender difference as a way of acting, which explains my twist to the problem: ‘‘What did Nora do?’’ In my approach, I am inspired by the American philosopher and feminist Judith Butler and her various efforts to discuss and develop

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forget Ehrensvärd!). Runeberg calls the fortress “Gibralters like i vårt Nord” (Gibralter’s equal in our North) and mentions “Ehrensvärd’s grave” in the “Sveaborg” canto of Fänrik Ståls sägner. In 1855, Sveaborg was bombarded by the combined Baltic squadrons of Britain and France, an ineffectual sideshow of “the Great Oriental War.” In 1906, a mutiny of Sveaborg’s artillerists took place, abetted by Red Guards from the mainland. In 1918, Sveaborg became the Tartarean hunger-camp for Red prisoners after Finland’s Civil War. The Baedeker for Russia of 1902 says “not very interesting”; a look at the Russian Orthodox church and Ehrensvärd’s adjacent sarcophagus would suffice, costing fifty penni for the guard, plus a tip. The Baedeker for Sweden and Finland of 1929 tersely states that a look-in on “the seven fortified islands” is possible, provided permission is obtained in advance. The only sight recommended is Ehrensvärd’s tomb. A rival German handbook, Storm’s, gives a more inviting description: “Das Denkmal wirkt in der stillen Umgebung, von einer Dornenhecke eingefasst, ausserordentlich romantisch” (The monument in its quiet surroundings, surrounded by a hedge of thorns, makes an extraordinarily romantic impression). The guidebook has already warned of the “most unpleasant consequences if the traveler has failed to deal with the appropriate authorities,” resulting in “considerable damage to the German reputation.” Filming Reds (1981), Warren Beatty chose the King’s Portal as a backdrop for John Reed’s release from Finnish durance vile. Did no-drama Nikula see the film? George C. Schoolfield Yale University