It has been said that Flannery O'Connor's “creative and technical powers [are] scarcely foreseeable in ‘The Train’, […] a seldom read story […] not included in either of her celebrated collections” (Harrison 287). The story, according to the criticism, “produces no character change, and there is little if any decisive action or even inclusive comment” (Harrison 290). But a close examination of the story reveals O'Connor's more than subtle artistry in both her “creative and technical powers” (Harrison 287), for it is precisely O'Connor's point that Hazel Wickers, the story's protagonist, is unable, or more accurately unwilling, to change. His mindset never veers off its blinding course. Like a train moving through a dimly lit tunnel with its singular light attempting to penetrate the darkness, Wickers's vision cannot reach beyond a certain point.

As has been noted, “His paranoia seems to be based […] on his being unable to see the true state of things” (Harrison 292). What he sees as truth cannot bear the light of reality. “He wanted the light off; he wanted it all dark. […] He wanted it all dark, he didn't want it diluded” (O'Connor 61). What he doesn't want “diluded” is his own version of the truth. He only feels comfortable in his illusory, veiled world.

Because of his mental haze he is unable to see the contradictory nature of his assertions. At one point he proudly pronounces his mother's sociability. “His mother always started up a conversation with the other people on the train. […] She was a Jackson” (55). Then just a short time later he says his “mother had never talked much on the train; she mostly listened. She was a Jackson” (58).

Because of the darkened aspect of his mind, he is led to invert reality. He is angered by the black porter, who he feels mocks him; he imagines the porter as “a white shape in darkness” (52). This inversion is an early illustration of O'Connor's pointed use of irony that helps clarify characterization and theme. Wickers, in his restrictive thinking, never considers the idea that it is he, not the porter, who is steeped “in darkness” (63).

In his self-projected world, reality is in constant flux. It is always “moving” (59) in rhythm with how he envisions it, not how it truly is. “He could look into the night, moving” (59). In contrast to the quiet, stationary reality that he attempts to shield from himself, his mind falls “[b]ack into the rushing stillness of the train” (62). For him, the porter, O'Connor's symbol for the real, is unmoving: “He […] saw the porter […] standing […] not moving” (62). Such a vision of reality, he cannot tolerate.

It is precisely Wickers's seeming inability to change that illustrates O'Connor's central theme: egotism can prevent one from any taking any fruitful action, much less making any “incisive comment” (Harrison 290). There is “no character change” (Harrison 290) in the story because the petrified, isolated condition of Wickers's mind prohibits any true self-analysis. He is so entangled in the egotistical maze of his darkened vision that he has no avenue of escape. The charge that “The Train” reveals “no character change” (Harrison 290) is accurate, but it only points up, even at this early stage of Flannery O'Connor's career, her genuine artistry.

Works Cited

Harrison, Margaret. “Hazel Motes in Transit: A Comparison of Two Versions of Flannery O'Connor's ‘The Train’ with Chapter 1 of Wise Blood.” Studies In Short Fiction 8 (1971): 287-93.

O'Connor, Flannery. Flannery O'Connor: The Complete Stories. New York: Farrar, Straus and Giroux, 1980.