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A Review of Dr. Seuss' Green Eggs And Ham
by Matt Mason
Green Eggs And Ham is a book which certainly caught me by
surprise. I hardly expected a book with a bright orange cover
and a goofy feline in the upper-right corner saying "I Can Read
It All By Myself: Beginner Books" to be such a stunningly frank
analysis of human sexual maturation. But Seuss certainly defies
the reader's expectations, and he does so wonderfully.
The book begins with one character rolling across the pages
with a sign reading "I am Sam" (3) and then "Sam I am" (7).
Seuss starts off with a blatant Judeo-Christian Yahweh image,
recalling God's response to Moses on Mt. Sinai when Moses asked
who was speaking to him, and God replied with a resounding, "I
AM" (Exodus 3:14). Here, Seuss gives us a softer "I am,"
cleverly mixing the Christian with the pre-Christian in the form
of Sam, a character who begins with the omnipotent cry of the
Biblical God but whose name and playfulness hint that he is also
to be considered a Pan-like character.
We then see Sam approach the book's other character, an
unnamed Everyman whom he offers the green eggs and ham. The eggs
are clearly symbolic of the female ovum, the ham (the meat) being
the male penis, and the green coloration is a common symbol of
springtime, new life, the awakening of sexual urges. So Sam is
not simply offering food, Sam is questioning our young Everyman
about sexual desires.
At first, Everyman only sees these urges as an unwelcome
distraction, proclaiming, "...That Sam-I-am!/ I do not like/ that
Sam-I-am!" and then denouncing the green eggs and ham, striking
out at and denying the strangeness and discomfort of the
biological stirrings working within (9).
And so Sam begins testing Everyman. He begins in a simple
yet existential way, asking, "Would you like them/ here or
there?" effectively asking if Everyman would prefer that sex
be in a conservative, imaginable fashion in the "here" or in the
unexpected, the different, distant, far-out "there" (14).
But Everyman refuses to even consider it, turning away from
Sam.
No sooner has Everyman's back turned, though, and Sam
appears again and demands attention. This time, he asks, "Would
you like them/ in a house?" (19). Sam attempts to see if
Everyman's doubts about sex stem from the fear of possibly
starting a family and being financially unable to care for them;
if Everyman was prosperous, owned a house, would that soothe
Everyman's negativity towards sex?
Sam also takes this opportunity to ask, "Would you like
them/ with a mouse?" indicating a timid partner for Everyman
(19). Sam wonders if the sexual experience scares Everyman,
and perhaps a submissive, non-threatening partner, symbolized by
the mouse, would be what Everyman needs to be comfortable with
his/her own sexuality.
But, again, the answer is resoundingly negative, a
denouncement of the natural gifts represented by the green eggs
and ham.
Our plucky little Pan is far from satisfied, though, and
returns in Everyman's path, asking, "Would you eat them in a
box?" (22). His earlier question about the house was,
perhaps, not relevant; so Sam wonders if Everyman would prefer
simple, more hardy circumstances. Nothing fancy, nothing
expensive, just the spare setting of a box.
Like before, he joins this with a second question, asking,
"Would you eat them with a fox", an obvious counter to the timid
mouse-partner of before (22). Now Sam asks if Everyman would
prefer a wilder partner, someone beautiful and inventive; the fox
representing not only beauty in the American fashion, but the
wisdom and cunning of older, European folklore.
But Everyman simply repudiates all of Sam's offers:
Not in a box.
Not with a fox.
Not in a house.
Not with a mouse.
I would not eat them here or there.
I would not eat them anywhere.
I would not eat green eggs and ham.
I do not like them, Sam-I-am. (24)
Everyman claims empirical control over these boiling urges. By
stating, "I would not eat them anywhere", Everyman steadfastly
refuses to give in to any aspect of sexual curiosity. Even so,
we can see that it's unsettling, as the frantic and lengthy reply
to Sam shows.
And then Sam tries a different angle. He wonders if what
Everyman needs to "turn on" is something technological, modern,
perhaps electrical or synthetic. He asks the bold question,
"Would you? Could you/ in a car?" (26). Sam hints in Freudian
terms that perhaps sex could spur on Everyman's movement of the
ego through the transportation symbol of the car.
But, as before, Everyman rejects this.
So Sam counters with, "You may like them/ in a tree!" (28).
If technology may seem a bit shaky to Everyman, it seems logical
that nature, symbolized by the tree, is what it takes to make
this Everyman recognize and respond to his inner stirrings, inner
stirrings which can be said to be nothing more than common and
natural in all living creatures.
Steadfast and determined, Everyman again rejects Sam's
questions, but the lengthy answer (again rejecting the box, fox,
house, mouse, etc.) shows that Sam's (nature's) persistence is
unsettling Everyman.
So Sam immediately hits with, "A train! A train!/ A train! A
train!/ Could you, would you, on a train?" (33). Sam is tempting
Everyman by exclaiming (four times! just like there are four
compass directions, four corners of the world, etc.) a symbol of
even larger ego movement than the car! Here, Seuss uses a strong
symbol of fertility; with its phallic shape and sexual rhythm,
when trains were first introduced to less developed nations,
sometimes women would gather near the train tracks and lift their
skirts as the train passed, believing the virile train would
fertilize them. So here, Sam tests to see if what Everyman
desires is great power, growth, and fertility.
Again, Everyman curtly refuses, lamenting, "Not on a train!!
Not in a tree!/ Not in a car! Sam! Let me be!/ I would not,
could not, in a box," etc. (34).
This train section's placement is particularly important.
In Sam's inquest, I mark nine clear sections (counting the car
and tree as one section, similar to "box and fox" and "house
and mouse" since they are clearly paired up as opposites) and
this is the fifth, the central one. This section clarifies that
the issue preventing Everyman from giving in to Sam's questioning
is deeper than a physical impotence, as Everyman is here
symbolically offered great virility. It's Seuss' way of letting
us know that we should be looking deeper when Everyman replies
"I would not, could not."
Sam then continues, testing to see if what Everyman wants is
mystery, perhaps danger, asking, "Would you, could you, in the
dark?" (36). There's no reason to believe that Sam here refers
to a sinful dark, it seems more a darkness where inhibitions are
lowered, a more soothing venue in which Everyman could feel more
comfortable and less self-conscious about sexual expression. It
could also be a dark of fear, as Sam must honestly admit that
sexual expression has many frightening aspects in the forms of
diseases, unwanted pregnancies, the pain of giving birth, etc.;
Sam moves from the easier, fluffier approach to a more honest one
with this.
And Everyman gives the constant reply, "I would not, could
not..." (37).
Sam then tries to see if sex for more hedonistic reasons
would appeal to Everyman. "Would you, could you,/ in the rain?"
(38). In almost all mythologies, water represents life,
as that's what rivers and spring rains bring to agricultural
societies. So would Everyman have sex if, not just being
life-creating in the form of offspring, it were a life-giving act
for Everyman, a refreshment, a germination, a baptism into new
life, new awareness?
Again, No.
Here, then, Sam stops and asks simply, "You do not like/
green eggs and ham?" (40) to the expected reply of, "I do not/
like them,/ Sam-I-am" (41). I find it fascinating that Sam
here returns to the basic question. This underscores how far Sam
has come from that basic question and shown many facets to human
sexuality.
And then Sam continues, "Could you, would you,/ with a
goat?" a surprising and pivotal question at this point (42). At
first we wonder why Seuss would bring in such a bizarre animal
here, but the answer, of course, comes from the ancient Greeks.
As most competent drama students could tell you, the Greeks had a
ceremony where they would take a goat and ritually place the
collective sins and problems of the village on the poor beast,
then beat it and send it away as a purification of the village.
Here, Sam tries to show sex as a purifying act, asking Everyman
to see that sins and hang-ups have no place here, they can be
exorcised as God is not the prudish God of some interpretations
but an earthier God who asks us to embrace our sexual natures.
And then, finally, Sam asks, "Would you, could you,/ on a
boat" (44). Sam indicates a more massive movement of the ego
than either the car or the train of before. Slower, yes, but
larger. Plus the entire purpose of the boat is to travel on top
of the water, on top of life-giving forces vastly larger than the
rain Sam brought up earlier.
Yet Everyman still replies:
I would not, could not, on a boat.
I will not, will not, with a goat.
I will not eat them in the rain.
I will not eat them on a train.
Not in the dark! Not in a tree!
Not in a car! You let me be!
I do not like them in a box.
I do not like them with a fox.
I will not eat them in a house.
I do not like them with a mouse.
I do not like them here or there.
I do not like them ANYWHERE! (46)
I do not like
green eggs
and ham! (49)
I do not like them,
Sam-I-am. (50)
As Everyman says this, notice how it slows down from an
orderly list of what Everyman does not like to the shifting of
the structure into smaller, enjambed lines. This change is
actually best conveyed by the illustration which Seuss uses at
this point in the book. His drawing shows the boat, which Sam
had just brought up, sinking to leave him and Everyman immersed
in an ocean: no longer floating atop life and nature and mystery
but actually swimming in it!
Here, the narrative leaves the theoretical, as Sam no longer
asks, he states:
You do not like them.
So you say.
Try them! Try them!
And you may.
Try them and you may, I say. (53)
And Everyman finally gives in! Out of sheer exhaustion, he
takes a bite and is immediately electrified:
Say!
I like green eggs and ham!
I do! I like them, Sam-I-am!
And I would eat them in a boat.
And I would eat them with a goat... (59)
And I will eat them in the rain.
And in the dark. And on a train.
And in a car. And in a tree.
They are so good, so good, you see! (60)
So I will eat them in a box.
And I will eat them with a fox.
And I will eat them in a house.
And I will eat them with a mouse.
And I will eat them here and there.
Say! I will eat them ANYWHERE! (61)
It is a long journey, but Seuss shows that the
persistence of nature (or our God-given biological urges) can
eventually wear down anyone. As Everyman goes through the full
journey of sexual maturation, Everyman discovers all the things
that sexual expression can be, until, in that climactic scene,
everything falls into place; Everyman is both worn down by
Sam's persistence and fully aware of the complexity of all the
facets to a blooming sexuality, causing Everyman to try and then
to joyfully embrace the "green eggs and ham."
Through this simple narrative, Dr. Seuss has created a
brilliant account of human coming-of-age. It also contains a
message that sex is not something to feel ashamed of, for
did not even the Judeo-Christian God ask us to "go forth and
multiply" (Genesis 9:7)? Seuss shows us that a well-informed,
even skeptically approached sexuality can be a good thing, as
this is no ignorant, uninformed desire; Everyman is careful,
realizing all that sex can be before embracing it!
Last update: March 2nd, 1999
Matt Mason / <mtmason@novia.net>