Missy

Missy is a minor but recurring figure in Knut Hamsun's Hunger, a dandified acquaintance of the unnamed narrator whose appearances in the story serve as a mirror to the narrator's own degradation. Each encounter with Missy forces the narrator into a performance of prosperity and social standing, a performance that becomes increasingly threadbare as his hunger deepens. Missy functions as a representative of the comfortable, conventional world from which the narrator is steadily excluded, and his presence triggers some of the narrator's most elaborate and desperate lies.

Identity and Introduction

Missy is first introduced in the narrative as an acquaintance the narrator meets in the street. The narrator notes that he "never cared particularly for 'Missy'" , establishing an immediate tone of mutual wariness. Missy is characterized by his inquisitive nature and his sharp eye for the narrator's material circumstances. He is a man of the world, well-dressed and observant, and his questions are pointed. When he sees the narrator carrying a large parcel from Semb's, he immediately asks, "What have you got there?" , forcing the narrator into a lie about buying cloth for a new suit. Missy's response—a look of "amazed start" —suggests he is not entirely convinced by the narrator's claims of prosperity.

Encounters and the Narrator's Lies

Missy's role is defined by a series of encounters that each escalate the narrator's dishonesty. In their first meeting, the narrator claims to be a bookkeeper at a wholesale house . Missy, with a mixture of skepticism and condescension, offers a recommendation for his tailor , a gesture that both acknowledges the narrator's supposed new status and subtly reminds him of his actual poverty. The narrator, stung by this, retaliates by reminding Missy of a ten-shilling debt , a move he immediately regrets, feeling ashamed and avoiding Missy's eyes. This pattern of assertion and retreat defines their dynamic.

Later, after the narrator has been evicted from his lodging and is living in a tinker's workshop, he encounters Missy again. Missy asks about his job at Christie's, and the narrator, caught in his earlier lie, claims it ended because of a "mis-entry" . Missy eagerly seizes on this, asking, "A false entry, eh?" , implying a deliberate act of dishonesty. The narrator is deeply insulted, insisting on his honor and declaring, "It is simply my sense of honour that keeps me afloat now" . This exchange highlights the narrator's internal conflict: he clings to a moral identity that his actions and circumstances constantly undermine.

The Narrator's Self-Perception and Missy's Role

Missy's presence forces the narrator to confront the gap between his self-image and his reality. The narrator's lies to Missy are not merely attempts to deceive; they are performances of a self he wishes to be. When Missy asks how he is getting along, the narrator replies, "Oh, beyond all expectation!" , a claim that is patently false. Missy's function is to be the audience for these performances, and his reactions—whether skeptical, amused, or condescending—provide a gauge of how successfully the narrator is maintaining his facade. The narrator's shame after lying to Missy, and his subsequent self-flagellation, reveal the psychological cost of this constant pretense.

Thematic Significance

Missy embodies the social world that the narrator is both desperate to belong to and contemptuous of. He represents the comfortable, unthinking prosperity that the narrator can only observe from the outside. The narrator's interactions with Missy are a microcosm of his larger struggle: he is a man fighting to maintain his dignity and identity in a society that judges him by his appearance and his bank account. Missy's final appearance, in which he mentions seeing the narrator with Ylajali and the narrator lies that she is his fiancée , underscores the narrator's need to construct a romantic narrative of success to counter his actual destitution. Missy is not a developed character in his own right; he is a narrative device, a catalyst for the narrator's self-exposure and a symbol of the unattainable normalcy that the narrator both craves and rejects.