Fate, however manipulated, ultimately triumphs – the end justified or unjustified by the means. Whether one sets out to challenge fate or reclines passively and welcomes it, fate proves inexorable. In comedy, those who feel strongly about preserving or modifying fate go to immeasurable lengths to ensure the desired outcome. Believing his fate lies in marrying Rosine, Bartholo, the antagonist of Beaumarchais’ The Barber Of Seville, attempts to ostracize Rosine, acceding to her sarcastic request to be confined in “a prison or dungeon” (58). The protagonist, The Count, leverages his ties with Bartholo’s barber, Figaro, to orchestrate an elaborate scheme to win Rosine’s affections.

Unwavering in his intent to secure Rosine as his own, Bartholo remains at her side, dubious of any ploys to lure him away. Instead of fetching a basin for his shave, Bartholo commands Figaro to do his bidding, exclaiming, “I can’t think of what I’m doing to leave that accursed barber here” (86). Bartholo’s distrust of Figaro stems from a paranoid fear that the barber will meddle with fate and court Rosine. Bartholo expresses similar sentiments when the furtive Count offers Rosine a music lesson. Disinterested, Bartholo “dozed off during this charming little piece” (81), yet vows to “stay here while you have your lesson” (80). Bartholo’s embargo on Rosine ultimately drives her away and dispels the fate he so zealously sought.

The Count, by contrast, attempts to dissolve Bartholo’s hold on Rosine by any means necessary. He admits that “I play so badly” (51), yet serenades Rosine, demonstrating his willingness to fight for her affections. The Count adamantly declares that “she is going to be my wife” (53) and requires Figaro’s help to “conceal my identity” (53). He subsequently pretends to be “half-seas over” (49) and propositions an intricate hoax to meet Rosine whereby he assumes the identity of a soldier in need of temporary lodging. When the gambit fails, The Count regroups and reintroduces himself as Alonzo, “Pupil of Don Bazile, organist of the grand convent” (75). While this maneuver falls through as well, The Count ultimately weds Rosine and validates his earlier vow of marriage.

The Barber of Seville, in essence, reminds readers that free will leads to short-term gain, yet fate wins out. Drawn together by a palpable bond, Rosine and The Count possess an ostentatious chemistry undeniable by any third party.

Justifying actions by attributing them to fate or performing actions with little foresight, the characters of Sophocles’ Antigone exploit fate as a sanction for poor judgment. While the “power of fate is fully of mystery” (951), Creon and Antigone, among others, reason that “there’s no evading it, no, not with wealth, or war, or walls, or black sea-beaten ships” (952-953).

Creon first manipulates the idea of fate when he rationalizes the lack of a “burial mound” or “funeral rites” (233) for Polyneices. Creon asserts that Polyneices “be left unburied, his body there for birds and dogs to eat, a clear reminder of his shameful fate” (234-236). Here, Creon assumes the predetermination of Polyneices’ death and attempt at social ascension. Creon errs, however, by assuming that his duty or fate lies in punishing Polyneices; he wrongfully presumes that he is anointed to determine the fate of Polyneices’ remains.

Antigone, by contrast, invokes fate as a reason for burying her deceased brother. Were Creon to punish Antigone for insubordination, Antigone would “count that a gain” (522). Cognizant of her inexorable passing, Antigone shrugs death off and believes that “meeting this fate won’t bring any pain” (526-527). Antigone recognizes the universality of death and deludes herself by reasoning that it could strike extemporaneously, as dictated by fate.

Born a “wretched daughter” (972), Antigone concludes that fate “sticks to us” (967). The convoluted circumstance of her birth, “the curse arising from a mother’s marriage bed” (968-969) has shadowed her throughout her life. The inauspicious fate of her parents was ultimately bequeathed to her, illustrating the foreordained nature of fate. “An outcast”, “unmarried an accursed” (973), Antigone admits that “death killed me while still alive” (975). This concession elucidates Antigone’s earlier placid demeanor; Antigone does not fear death for death has consumed her life.

While free will exists in Antigone, fate prevails. Every action, every decision is predetermined by fate; this maxim holds true for the vast majority of tragedies. Lamentably, fate rarely works out in one’s favor as all paths lead to death.

In her novel The Namesake, Jhumpa Lahiri introduces a series of arbitrary events that serve to remind characters of past events, places, and familiars. Jonathan Foer, author of Extremely Loud & Incredibly Close, artfully leverages perhaps the most infamous event in American history, the collapse of the Twin Towers, to fuel a story of loss and acceptance. He concurrently divulges a stream of letters to communicate events that have shaped the protagonist’s past, present, and future. While both authors employ distinct methods, each works to provide a comprehensive backdrop that both advances and explains the plot.

From the absence of the letter bearing Gogol’s name, to the brusque death of Ashoke, The Namesake is marked by “a string of accidents, unforeseen, unintended, one incident begetting another” (286). Each incident, in turn, affects a character, engendering an introspective response that leads him to examine life from a different perspective.

Moushumi, moderately content in her marriage to Gogol, begins her eighth semester at NYU and chances upon the résumé of Dimitri, a former flame. Inundated by a collection of dormant memories, Moushumi calls Dimitri in hopes that her once unrequited affections will be reciprocated. The two quickly engage in a passionate affair that unravels Moushumi’s marriage and leaves Gogol with “the humiliation of having been deceived” (282). Blind to Moushumi’s infidelity, the divorce is “impossible to prepare for”, an event “which one spent a lifetime looking back at, trying to accept, interpret, comprehend” (287). In essence, The Namesake illustrates the unchartered nature of one’s life, where one’s past dictates one’s future.

Extremely Loud & Incredibly Close follows a radically different format, ceaselessly catapulting readers from past to present. The work’s protagonist, Oscar Schell, devotes himself to the unfeasible task of finding the lock compatible with a key left by his late father, a victim of the 9/11 terrorist attacks. Oscar’s journey is intermittently interrupted by Foer who provides the backstory of Oscar’s grandparents. The story is presented by means of a series of unsent letters written by Oscar’s grandfather, addressed to Oscar’s father. The letters expose the tragic courtship of Oscar’s grandfather and late great aunt, the genocide that resulted in her death, and the unconventional marriage and split of Oscar’s grandparents. The letters, in effect, chronicle the lives of Oscar’s paternal family, as seen by his grandfather, and serve as a memento of Oscar’s heritage. They are buried in the grave of Oscar’s father, a grave previously unoccupied. This notion suggests that memories transcend the individuals that they represent; although Oscar’s father passed away, his legacy will forever be intact.

Lahiri and Foer diverge in terms of subject matter, yet meet in the importance placed on remembrance. By consulting memories, individuals may be lead to make a decision, make no decision, or carry on where another left off.