Growing up is usually a series of quiet, unremarkable moments that eventually add up to an adult life. But sometimes, it feels like a violent collision. That's the vibe Doris Lessing captures in her famous short story, Through the Tunnel. It isn't just a story about a kid going for a swim. It’s a visceral, claustrophobic, and honestly terrifying look at what it actually takes to stop being a child.
If you read this in high school, you probably remember the blood. The nosebleeds Jerry suffers are legendary in literary circles because they’re so frequent and so intense. But there is a lot more going on beneath the surface of that Mediterranean water than just a boy trying to impress some older locals.
What the Through the Tunnel Story is Actually About
Most people think this is a simple "coming of age" tale. That’s the textbook answer. But if we’re being real, it’s a story about the desperate need for autonomy. Jerry, the protagonist, is eleven years old. He's at that awkward stage where he’s still tied to his mother’s "white, naked arm" on the safe, crowded beach, but he’s eyeing the "wild bay" where the big kids hang out.
Lessing, who won the Nobel Prize in Literature in 2007, was a master at writing about the friction between individuals and their environments. In this case, the environment is a literal rock wall underwater. Jerry sees a group of older, tan, foreign boys diving into the sea and not coming up for a long time. They’re using an underwater tunnel. When Jerry tries to follow them and fails, he realizes he’s not one of them yet. He’s just a "foolish boy."
The story basically charts his obsessive, almost suicidal quest to bridge that gap. He doesn't just want to swim through a hole in a rock. He wants to prove that he can exist in a space where his mother can't protect him. It’s about the lonely transition from being someone’s son to being your own person.
The Psychological Toll of the Wild Bay
There’s this constant tension between the "safe" beach and the "wild" bay. The safe beach is where his mother sits under an orange umbrella. It’s predictable. The wild bay is rocky, lonely, and smells of seaweed.
🔗 Read more: Dating for 5 Years: Why the Five-Year Itch is Real (and How to Fix It)
Jerry’s obsession with the Through the Tunnel story arc begins when he asks his mother for swimming goggles. This is a huge turning point. Once he can actually see underwater, the world changes. It isn't just blurry blue anymore; it’s a world of "monstrous" rocks and "swaying kelp."
He starts training. This part of the story is actually kinda grueling to read. He forces himself to hold his breath until his lungs feel like they're going to explode. He counts. One, two, three... He gets to a hundred. His nose bleeds so much that the water around him turns salt-red. It’s a literal baptism by fire, or rather, by salt water and pressure.
Why do we care? Because everyone has a "tunnel." It might not be an underwater rock formation in the Mediterranean. It might be a first job, a difficult conversation, or a move to a new city. It’s that moment where you realize that if you’re going to get to the other side, nobody can hold your hand. You’re underwater. You’re alone. And you’re counting.
Technical Mastery in Lessing's Writing
Lessing doesn’t use a lot of flowery language. She uses "heavy" words. The water is "thick." The rocks are "fanged." This creates a sense of physical weight. You feel the pressure in Jerry’s ears. You feel the "sharp pain" in his chest.
The Symbolism of the Goggles
Without those goggles, Jerry is blind. They represent the transition from childhood ignorance to adult clarity. But clarity is scary. When he looks through them, he sees the "black hole" of the tunnel. It’s not an inviting sight. It looks like a trap.
💡 You might also like: Creative and Meaningful Will You Be My Maid of Honour Ideas That Actually Feel Personal
The Nosebleeds and Physicality
In many "coming of age" stories, the transformation is emotional or spiritual. Lessing makes it physical. Jerry’s body is literally breaking down as he tries to grow up. He’s dizzy. He’s nauseous. This reflects the reality that growth often hurts. It’s not a smooth transition; it’s a series of breaks and repairs.
Why Jerry Doesn't Tell His Mother
The ending of the Through the Tunnel story is perhaps the most important part for understanding the human psyche. After he finally makes it through—nearly dying in the process—he goes back to the villa. His mother tells him he looks a bit pale and warns him not to "overdo it."
Jerry’s response? He tells her he can stay underwater for two to three minutes. He doesn't tell her about the tunnel. He doesn't tell her he almost drowned.
This is the ultimate sign that he has succeeded. The "victory" isn't the swim itself; it’s the fact that he now has a secret life that his mother isn't part of. He no longer needs her validation for his bravery. He knows what he did. That’s enough. The "wild bay" is now part of him, and he can return to the "safe beach" without being trapped by it.
Common Misconceptions About the Ending
Some readers think the story is about Jerry becoming an "alpha" or proving his masculinity to the older boys. Honestly, that’s a bit of a surface-level take. By the time Jerry actually swims through the tunnel, the older boys are long gone. He isn't doing it for them anymore.
📖 Related: Cracker Barrel Old Country Store Waldorf: What Most People Get Wrong About This Local Staple
He’s doing it to conquer his own fear.
In fact, after he finishes the swim, he doesn't even care about the older boys. He "did not want them." The need for social approval was just the catalyst. The actual journey was internal.
Another misconception is that the story is purely dark or pessimistic. While it’s definitely intense, it’s ultimately a story of triumph. Jerry survives. He reaches a new level of self-mastery. He learns that he has the "will" to survive, even when his body wants to give up.
Real-World Takeaways for Readers
Looking at the Through the Tunnel story through a modern lens, there are a few things we can actually apply to our lives. It’s not just a literary exercise.
- The necessity of the "Wild Bay": If you stay on the safe beach forever, you never find out what you’re capable of. Safety is comfortable, but it’s stagnant.
- Preparation matters: Jerry didn't just jump into the tunnel on day one. He spent days training his lungs. He bought the right equipment (the goggles). Ambition without preparation is just a way to drown.
- Silence is power: You don't always have to post your achievements on social media or tell your parents every detail of your life. Some of the most important growth happens in the "tunnels" of our lives where no one else can see.
- The pain is temporary: The nosebleeds stopped. The dizziness faded. The achievement remained.
Actionable Insights for Analyzing the Story
If you’re studying this for a class or just trying to understand it better, try these steps:
- Track the sensory language: Look for words related to "pressure," "darkness," and "light." Lessing uses these to signal Jerry's internal state.
- Compare the two beaches: Note how the description of the "safe" beach changes as Jerry becomes more obsessed with the tunnel. It starts looking more and more boring.
- Watch the clock: Jerry's obsession with time (counting his breath) is a major theme. It shows his shift from "child time" (play) to "adult time" (deadlines, survival, limits).
- Identify the "climax" of the tunnel: The moment where he thinks he's hit a dead end is the most important part of the story. It’s the moment of total despair that precedes the breakthrough.
Ultimately, Doris Lessing created a masterpiece because she tapped into a universal truth: to get to the next stage of your life, you have to go through something that scares the hell out of you. And you usually have to do it alone.
By the time Jerry sits down for lunch at the end of the story, he’s a different person than the boy who walked down to the water that morning. He’s older. Not by years, but by experience. That's the real power of the Through the Tunnel story. It reminds us that maturity isn't a birthday; it's a rite of passage.