Rabbit Angstrom

Harry Rabbit Angstrom is selfish. He is self-obsessed, self-absorbed, egotistical, illogical, insensitive, and governed almost entirely by his emotional and sensual reactions. One might say he is an every-man, of sorts. Inescapably human, emphatically flawed. Confused, overwhelmed, agnostic. He struggles against the weight of life, against consequences and the big picture, against the long term.
One is thrown into this perspective at the start of Rabbit, Run, Harry already fleeing, “his acts tak[ing] on decisive haste” (21) as he leaves his wife son on a whim and drives out of Mt. Judge. Rabbit wastes no time in solidifying his outlook, revealing the thought process which will guide his actions throughout the novel to the farmer at the gas station (“ ‘the only way to get somewhere, you know, is to figure out where you’re going before you go there.’ Rabbit catches a whiff of whiskey. He says in a level way, ‘I don’t think so.’” 26). This somewhat existentialist approach to decision-making places Rabbit in constant opposition with the settled, methodical routines of his family and community in Mt. Judge. Rabbit “lived in his skin and didn’t give a thought to the consequences of anything” (128). His casual treatment of sex, marriage, children, divorce, and infidelity all have lasting effects, mostly negative, on the people surrounding him, those left to bear the responsibility he abandons. Rabbit only experiences guilt and remorse in concentrated doses, shedding them as his immediate surroundings change. He claims to be certain only of himself (“all I know is what’s inside me. That’s all I have.” 93), yet even that certitude is transient, changing to reflect his environment, his level of comfort and removal from responsibility. Rabbit can say, without any guilt, and in fact, with a degree of satisfaction, that, “if you have the guts to be yourself…other people’ll pay your price” (129).