An Occurrence at Owl Creek Bridge

Introduction

Although "An Occurrence at Owl Creek Bridge" is commonly regarded as Ambrose Bierce's best and most famous short story, its "surprise ending" is not universally admired. Seeing obvious comparisons to O. Henry's "The Furnished Room," Cleanth Brooks and Robert Penn Warren regard the ironic turn of events as an unjustified "trick," existing for its own sake and totally without what they call "fictional meaning." W. Gordon Cunliffe also notes the superficial resemblance between the stories by Bierce and O. Henry, but while he describes the O. Henry ending as unconvincing and mechanical, he praises Bierce's ending and observes that the surprise ending is a "surprise" only to the unsophisticated reader.2 In fact, Bierce skillfully and unobtrusively prepares us for the ironic end of the story by using "whiplash reversals" at the end of each part of the story (Tzvetan 88-96). Cunliffe's perceptive and informative comments about ironic anticipations point us to a larger and more inclusive matter, Bierce's manipulation of time and audience through language. Bierce has it both ways, then: he seduces us into believing in the "reality" of Farquhar's escape and simultaneously leaves us all the clues we need to know that the escape is unreal.

Discussion

In the first few paragraphs of Part One of his short story, Bierce writes from the strictly objective point of view of a detached, somewhat aloof, mildly curious spectator. After describing the man on the bridge, Bierce moves back until his field of vision slowly enlarges, and he then describes the Federal soldiers and the setting--the river, the railroad, the forests. By "tracking back" Bierce effectively distances us from the situation and, more importantly, places Farquhar in a context which depersonalizes him and emphasizes the theme of insignificant man at the mercy of impersonal institutions (Tandori 243-248). In order to convey the impersonality, Bierce writes scientifically, not poetically; that is, he avoids figurative language and uses in its stead denotative diction. For the most part, in the first four paragraphs we are "outside" Farquhar and see only the surface detail and ritual. Bierce does not editorialize about his material, but describes it in matter-of-fact fashion: the sentences are loose rather than periodic; short rather than long; and a bit choppy rather than coherent. In addition to the style, which incidentally alienates the reader and turns him against the "military code," Bierce's lengthy definitions of technical terms ("support," "parade rest") and his apparent neglect of Farquhar reflect the dominance of code and institution over man. It is not that institutions are hostile to man, but that they are marvelously indifferent to him.

This naturalistic view, one Bierce shared with Stephen Crane, is reflected through imagery: "The company faced the bridge, staring stonily [my italics], motionless. The sentinels, facing the banks of the stream, might have been statues [my italics] to adorn the bridge." The figurative language that Bierce uses neither animates nor personifies inanimate things, but renders the living inanimate. In effect, Bierce enlists our sympathy for Farquhar not by ...