What Turns a Man into the Misfit?

“The Misfit” in Flannery O’Connor’s “A Good Man Is Hard to Find” poses as a dangerously ambiguous character. While at numerous times he appears to be rational in his decision calculus, he simultaneously seems devoid of the very essence of humanity. How can a man refer to his parents as the “finest people in the world” and then later effortlessly remark that he had killed his daddy ( 90)? The Misfit’s inhuman ability to unproblematically feel guiltless and not responsible for his actions conveys an existence so far removed from humanity that one cannot help but doubt the possibility of his ever being “reached.”

The most difficult aspect to grasp of the Misfit’s being is his capacity to remove himself from any notion or sense of responsibility. Although he states he “never was a bad boy that [he remembers] of,” he simultaneously remembers that “somewheres along the line [he] done something wrong and got sent to the penitentiary” (112). His statement not only reveals his convenient case of selective memory—it would have been helpful at his trial—it also demonstrates his complete failure to associate himself with his actions or their consequences. There is this strong disconnect between his recollection of the past and what others have informed him of it. In response to the grandmother’s comment “[m]aybe they put you in by mistake,” the Misfit affirmatively denies that possibility by asserting “[i]t wasn’t no mistake…they had the papers on me” (115-116). To a functioning observer, the inherent problem of the contradiction in the Misfit’s concurrent denial and affirmation of his guilt would be obvious, but to the Misfit, no problem exists. The Misfit’s flawed logic does not stop there; he even has a back story to explain his father’s death—he “died in nineteen ought nineteen of the epidemic flu” (118). Yet, only moments before, the Misfit stated he did something wrong. If his train of thought makes no sense, that is because certain concepts—responsibility and guiltiness, primarily—do not exist for him. The reader is almost led to believe that the Misfit has disassociative personality disorder, considering his affectionate characterization of his father—“my daddy’s heart was pure gold” (90)—on the one hand and his nebulous recollection that he did something wrong—probably murdering his father—on the other. This mental illness would explain rather well his lingering insinuation that he done nothing worthy of the punishment that he has received. Thus, his “good” identity that he variably displays feels no connection to the crime his “bad” identity allegedly has committed and been punished for.

However, if the Misfit’s character is not a composite of identities, then new problems arise concerning his ability to be “reached.” The grandmother repeatedly, and to no avail, attempts to remind the Misfit that he is a “good man at heart,” and does not look like he has a bit of “common blood”—whatever that may be—in an attempt to spare her own life, and perhaps those of her family too (89-91). While it is uncertain if the grandmother is actually attempting to rekindle the slowly dying ember of “goodness” that she thinks is left in him or merely trying to buy her survival through flattery, the responses her attempts elicit reveal insight into the Misfit’s understanding of his own character. Although he states, “Nome, I ain’t a good man,” he clarifies his position by elaborating “but I ain’t the worst in the world neither” (100). Does that mean he still can be the good man the grandmother reminds him he can be? The probability is slim, at best, considering the Misfit’s extensive rationalization of behavior that is implicitly linked with him. His resignation to the belief that “sooner or later you’re going to forget what it was you done and just be punished for it” is further evidence of his failure to associate punishment as the logical consequence of killing a man or taking a tire off his car (124). The Misfit’s response poses two problems: (1) how can he be a good man if taking a human life is something he can forget so easily and (2) how can he be a good man if he cannot grasp the true nature of right or wrong? He is aware that he has committed some offense that everyone else deems wrong; yet, he does not understand how wrong his actions really were. The Misfit’s flawed concept of punishment combined with his view that one ought to “enjoy the minutes you got left the best way you can—by killing somebody or burning down his house or doing some other meanness to him” seems to serve as an inherent barrier against his ever being good man (135).

Yet, knowing his current disposition towards life, however sick and perverse it may be, does not provide the same degree of reassurance in condemning him to a final characterization as knowing the source of his disposition. The Misfit exists in such flawed and grotesquely misanthropic ontological state that ambiguity over his history is not acceptable to the reader. Did he suffer some form of abuse as a child that caused him to release his harbored hatred of his father in the form of killing him? Does he suffer from a mental illness that induces him to think there is “no pleasure but meanness” in the world (135)? Or is he merely an incarnation of “evil”—if there is such a thing? Although the question of his being remains an unsolved mystery, despite its central importance in understanding what turns a man into the misfit, it is rather certain that his reflexive shooting of the grandmother, regardless of the theological significance of her final actions, reaffirmed his conviction that he “ain’t a good man.” (967)