26 pages • 52 minutes read
William SaroyanA modern alternative to SparkNotes and CliffsNotes, SuperSummary offers high-quality Study Guides with detailed chapter summaries and analysis of major themes, characters, and more.
A central theme in the story is duality, which is present on a smaller scale in many ways, and on a larger scale, with immigrant life in the United States. The story begins with duality: the protagonist, the boy Aram, wakes to see his cousin Mourad outside his bedroom window, implausibly riding a beautiful white horse. He “could see the horse, so magnificent […] could smell it […] could hear it breathing […]” (3), yet he “couldn’t believe” (3) what his senses were telling him. It is as if he had awoken from sleep directly into a dream, yet he explains, “[I]t was light enough for me to know I wasn’t dreaming” (2). His cousin Mourad even says directly, “You’re not dreaming” (2). Aram is experiencing cognitive dissonance because he knows on one hand that Mourad had to have stolen the horse, and he likewise knows that Mourad couldn’t have stolen the horse. The horse itself, beautiful and glowing white, exists in stark contrast to the dark secret of its theft. Aram wrestles internally with these dual messages throughout the story. John Byro experiences a similar disconnect to Aram’s (described earlier in the paragraph). When John Byro encounters Mourad and Aram riding on his horse, he “studied the horse eagerly” (10) and “looked into the mouth of the horse” (10), but in the end, he can’t believe that the horse is actually his because of what he believes to be true about Mourad and Aram’s family. This cognitive disconnect—the inability to reconcile two conflicting pieces of information—reflects the immigrant experience as portrayed in the story. The Armenian American immigrants live in two worlds—one world of their home culture and a second world of the new home they have created in California. Saroyan’s use of the English language to tell the story interspersed with Armenian words speaks to this split between the two worlds. Lastly, there are dualities between freedom and containment, between social constraints and fixed ideas versus following one’s heart. Aram struggles to reconcile the fantastical and hyperbolic stories told about his family with the information he perceives with his senses. In addition, he is constrained by his family’s circumstances, yet his cousin finds a way to get a horse and takes Aram out in the early morning, teaching him to ride. Each of these conflicting experiences is indicative of the Garoghlanian family’s experience specifically and of Saroyan’s portrayal of the Armenian immigrant experience, yet such dualities are also inherent to human existence in general.
A second theme of Saroyan’s “The Summer of the Beautiful White Horse” is that concepts of truth and honesty may be relative. The story explores the question of what it means to tell the truth and what it means to be honest from the perspective of a nine-year-old protagonist. Objectively, Mourad stole the horse: He took it surreptitiously from his neighbor, and aside from taking the horse on a daily ride, he keeps it hidden in a deserted barn. Aram is conflicted about what it means to steal and to be honest. Aram’s family’s strong reputation for honesty makes it nearly impossible for him to believe that Mourad committed theft. However, he knows that his family is poor, so “if he couldn’t have bought it, he must have stolen it, and I refused to believe he had stolen it” (3). Aram also reasons that stealing a horse is not truly stealing if one doesn’t plan to sell it. He also imagines that if one truly loves horses (as he does), taking one to ride couldn’t possibly be stealing—not in the same way that taking money is stealing. However, not much later, Aram states that Mourad must have stolen the horse: “It was true, then. He had stolen the horse” (3). Mourad also demonstrates conflicting attitudes toward truth and honesty. When Aram asks him how long he’s been riding the horse, Mourad answers, “Not until this morning” (7), but when he directly asks if his cousin is being truthful, Mourad replies candidly, “Of course not” (7). He lied to Aram to protect his little cousin in case their theft is discovered, but he is unable to sustain the deception; thus, he reveals his inner conflict over his dishonesty. Later, when Aram suggests that they keep the horse for another year, Mourad is outraged. His outburst appears paradoxical, and they later return the horse, which was tamed by Mourad’s daily rides. Thus, Mourad and Aram’s dishonesty ultimately provides a useful service for their neighbor, helping to maintain the community’s interdependent structure. Objectively, Mourad did steal John Byro’s horse for the duration of the summer. But Mourad’s actions, which helped both the horse and his neighbor, call into question whether he actually did steal, and whether he actually behaved with integrity and with the best interest of others in mind.
The story consistently depicts gentleness and indirection as achieving better results than force and direct confrontation might have. John Byro, for example, strongly suspects that Mourad and Aram stole his horse but does not confront them directly. When he discusses the loss of his horse with the boys’ family, he doesn’t throw accusations or forcibly demand that the horse be returned. Instead, he simply states what happened and waits for results. Likewise, when he sees Mourad and Aram riding his horse, he doesn’t call them thieves or demand they give him the horse that instant; instead, he comments on the remarkable resemblance between this horse and his own while simultaneously reminding them of their family’s reputation and his own trusting nature: “The fame of your family for honesty is well known to me. Yet the horse is the twin of my horse. A suspicious man would believe his eyes instead of his heart” (10-11). His indirect approach works. The boys feel compelled to live up to their family’s image and to give Byro no reason to become outwardly “suspicious”; they return the horse the next morning.
Not all characters are as mild-tempered as Byro. Khosrove and Mourad, for example, are full of bluster, often “shouting” or “roaring.” Nevertheless, there is an underlying tenderness to their words and actions. Khosrove is “a man so furious in temper, so irritable, so impatient that he stopped anyone from talking by roaring, It is no harm; pay no attention to it” (4), yet according to Aram’s mother, “He has a gentle heart” (9). In the end, Khosrove’s shouted pronouncement, “Quiet man, quiet. Your horse has been returned. Pay no attention to it” (11), has a quiet wisdom about it. Although Khosrove is yelling, his admonition helps to maintain the peace; his repeated catchphrase is actually a plea to maintain perspective and not stir up trouble over things that in the end do little “harm.” Likewise, Mourad seems reckless and temperamental, responding with outrage to Aram’s suggestion that they “steal” a horse he has already stolen. However, he also shows real concern for his cousin’s well-being when he refuses to tell Aram the full story of the horse’s origins; that way, Mourad explains, Aram will not have to lie. Mourad also has a self-proclaimed “way” with animals—the horse, a robin, and dogs—and animals quietly acquiesce to his bidding. The horse was apparently wild when he began his secret rides, but by being gentle and understanding the horse, he tames it. By nursing the broken-winged robin, Mourad helps it to fly again. Dogs don’t bark when he trespasses in Byro’s barn. His interactions with these creatures suggest the care and compassion that underlie Mourad’s loud, swaggering exterior.
By William Saroyan