Literary and Cinematic Examples

Film Examples

In this section, we briefly examine several movies in which a character can be identified as an Self-Preservation 3. Through their attitudes, behaviors, and dialogues, we aim to provide readers with a deeper understanding of this character subtype and how they might relate to it.

“Ordinary People”

Synopsis: The accidental death of the older son in an affluent family deeply strains the relationships among the bitter mother, the good-natured father, and the guilt-ridden younger son. Character: The mother, portrayed by Mary Tyler Moore. Discussion: In this film, several highly meaningful scenes stand out, particularly the

opening and closing moments. In the opening, the mother appears to be enjoying herself at the theater, accompanied by her husband and another couple. She seems happy, but upon returning home, she undergoes a drastic transformation. She becomes cold toward her husband, even walking ahead of him up the stairs, forcing him to follow. In bed, she pretends to be asleep while he caresses her. The breakfast scene is especially telling. Despite going to great lengths to prepare her son’s favorite meal, he isn’t hungry, and this triggers a violent reaction from her. She throws the toast into the garbage disposal as if it’s the most natural thing in the world. Throughout the film, she creates tense situations without ever losing her composure.

The mother avoids facing problems, is controlling, dismissive of others' needs, and believes she knows what people require. Her relationship with her son is strained and superficial; she struggles to truly support him. What she fears most is having her real emotions exposed, as she doesn’t express them (for example, she didn’t cry at her eldest son’s funeral). Instead, she focuses on superficial matters, like deciding what shoes and shirt her husband should wear for the ceremony. She meticulously organizes everything, pushing others to conform to her plans.

Her evasiveness becomes evident when she tells her younger son, "I don’t know what he wants from me," and "I don’t know what anyone wants from me." Her response to her husband and son’s statement, "We just want you to be happy," is striking: "What is it to be happy?" At the end of the film, her husband describes her:

“You are beautiful. And you are unpredictable. But you’re so cautious. You’re determined, Beth, but you know something? You’re not strong. And I don’t know if you’re really giving. Tell me something. Do you love me? Do you really love me?” “I feel the way I’ve always felt about you.” “We would’ve been all right, if there hadn’t been any mess. But you can’t handle mess. You need everything neat and easy. I don’t know. Maybe you can’t love anybody. It was so much Buck. When Buck died, it was as if you buried all your love with him, and I don’t understand that. I just don’t know. Maybe it wasn’t even Buck; maybe it was just you. Maybe, finally, it was the best of you that you buried. But whatever it was... I don’t know who you are. And I don’t know what we’ve been playing at. So I was crying. Because I don’t know if I love you anymore. And I don’t know what I’m going to do without that.”

Beth is left speechless and uncertain about how to respond. She turns away, walks upstairs, and enters a room, appearing lost in thought. Then, she retrieves some luggage from a closet. A sudden burst of emotion overtakes her, and she cries, but it’s unclear if she truly identifies with the emotion, and she restrains it. Her son, awake in bed, hears the door closing and sees a taxi leaving.

“Steel Magnolias”

Synopsis: A story of love, friendship, determination, courage, and loss. Six friends of different ages and social classes support each other, especially in the face of death. Character: M’Lynn, portrayed by Sally Field, is the central character, embodying the security of the entire family. She’s also the only one who accompanies her daughter in her final moments. Discussion: M’Lynn is the pillar of the family, managing the household, her husband, the children, and organizing her daughter Shelby’s wedding, all while ensuring her daughter’s diabetes is kept under control. Examples of her need for control and efficiency can be seen in the film’s first part.

During a party, she tries to oversee everything while managing the children and the house. She talks on the phone, addresses her daughter’s complaints, and scolds her husband for causing a scene, all while keeping a smile on her face. This shows her disconnection from personal stress and needs, as well as her inability to enjoy herself.

A similar scene unfolds during the wedding when, while dancing with her son-in-law, she struggles to relax and instead admonishes him about her daughter’s medical condition, unable to unwind and enjoy the celebration.

Her efficiency and composure come through when she helps her daughter during a hypoglycemic episode, knowing exactly what to do to bring her back to normal.

M’Lynn’s conservative nature surfaces when Shelby becomes pregnant against her wishes. M’Lynn reacts coldly when Shelby shares the news and dismisses her daughter’s concerns about adoption, displaying a lack of empathy for her daughter’s emotional state.

After Shelby gives birth, M’Lynn donates a kidney to her, downplaying the gravity of the situation. When her friends express concern for her upcoming surgery, she brushes it off, maintaining her superficial composure and trivializing her own needs.

When Shelby succumbs to organ rejection and falls into a coma, M’Lynn is determined and seemingly oblivious to her daughter’s impending death. The family decides to remove Shelby from life support, but M’Lynn stays behind, holding her daughter’s hand until she is certain she is dead.

M’Lynn struggles to allow herself to grieve, only allowing herself to cry in solitude after the funeral. At the burial, she momentarily loses control but quickly pulls herself together, as it’s not appropriate to show vulnerability. She then shifts her focus to caring for her grandchild, as if life must go on without pause for personal grief.

The film ends with M’Lynn’s pragmatic approach to life and loss, showing her avoidance of emotional pain. After the funeral, one of her friends announces she’s pregnant and plans to name the baby Shelby. M’Lynn smiles and replies, "That’s how it should be. Life goes on…"

In summary, in relation to Self-Preservation 3, the film explores themes of control, practicality, rebellion in the face of helplessness, delaying personal needs, and experiencing pain in solitude.

“Blindness”

Synopsis: In a town struck by a sudden mysterious case of blindness, a doctor’s wife becomes the only person who can see. She pretends to be blind in order to care for her husband as the community descends into chaos. She leads them through a journey of horror, depravity, love, and solidarity, in search of hope. Based on the novel Blindness by José Saramago, the central message could be summarized as: "If you can see, go. If you can see, repair." Character: The doctor’s wife, played by Julianne Moore.

Discussion: Although this woman’s character is clearly an E3 self-preservation, the point of the story is to portray someone with the ability to see and be awake—a genuinely good person—deviating from the darker aspects of the conservationist’s neurosis. We now delve into a discussion on the more characteristic features of this subtype.

The blind are quarantined in a sanatorium, stripped down to their basic humanity, and moral and ethical values quickly disappear. The only exception is the doctor’s wife, who attends to the first blind man. As we mentioned, she remains unaffected by blindness but pretends to be blind to care for her husband. When she realizes that no one else can see, a sense of responsibility weighs on her for having sight while others have lost theirs. She watches over and cares for others. Maintaining her sight grants her powers, responsibilities, and a superhuman fatigue, all grounded in the survival instinct.

She remains in isolation with the others. As if she had superpowers, she fights for the well-being of the group, securing food, cleaning, being understanding of her husband’s infidelity, burying the dead, and narrating stories to a child.

Within the sanatorium, an antagonism of forces arises: “the woman who sees against the blind man who has never seen.” They lead opposing groups, and to protect her companions, the woman kills without remorse. She can’t reciprocate her husband’s displays of affection; she must do what is important. The only thing that brings her to desperate tears is losing control over time—having forgotten to wind her watch.

Guiding her small group to safety, she welcomes them into her home, caring for them and feeding them. She protects them from the chaos of the city—dead people, accidents, and aimless wanderers. She never asks for help.

While scavenging for food, she takes refuge in a church and notices that the images are blindfolded. She looks at them as if thinking, “Not even God Himself can see... Who would do that?”

Key sequences characterizing her as an Self-Preservation 3:

When health services come for her husband, taking him into confinement, she pretends to be blind to accompany him; she feels the need to take care of him.

The doctor’s wife starts to lead her group through the corridors toward the toilet, picks up garbage, cleans, tidies up, and tries to organize the wards; she forgets herself.

Attending to a wounded man, she worries: “I’m afraid it’s gonna be infected…” “You can’t be responsible for everyone,” her husband tells her. “Are you afraid to close your eyes?” “No. I’m afraid to open them. Afraid I’ll go blind in my sleep,” she replies. And she leaves, avoiding confrontation with her husband to not show her vulnerability. “I’m gonna take a walk.”

In a moment of weakness, she exclaims, “I can’t take this anymore,” feeling guilty about the death of the wounded man she was caring for. “I think I have to tell them that I could help.” Her husband objects, but she replies, “I can handle it.” He confesses that he no longer sees her as a wife, only as a mother or a nurse. “Well, you’ll just have to get used to it, won’t you? Because I don’t have any choice,” the woman retorts.

She catches her husband having sex with another woman. She understands his situation, chooses to step back, and then consoles another person, revealing the truth to them. She understands that this is not the right time for accusations.

She is one of the first volunteers in the sex-for-food exchange. “You can do what you like, and we’ll feed you both. And then you can talk to me about dignity,” she declares to a man who is against it.

She walks purposefully down the aisle. She takes the scissors that she had hidden and kills the opposing leader who was raping her companions. She argues with the man born blind: "We are not in charge here now."

She begins to remove the people from the fire, without thinking about the guards who might shoot. She goes ahead and leads them to the street. "We are free!" she shouts.

This woman's surrender comes as she leads the blind people through the city to a shelter. For the first time, she acknowledges needing help and accepts her husband's assistance. She realizes that she is not omnipotent. She also needs his protection when she is attacked by the blind men, and her husband has to help her, as she does not let go of the baskets of food she has found. She prefers to defend the food with her life. When she perceives that the food is running out, she no longer intends to look for it alone but tells her husband that the matter must be discussed by all.

Just as she tells her husband that they will have to get more food because the food is running out, the first man who was blinded regains his sight. He starts walking toward the terrace. He knows that before long, everyone will be able to shout, "I can see!" and no one will be the same person as before. At last, she feels free. She is no longer needed... And now, can she give herself up? She looks up at the clear, bright sky and thinks, "I think I'm going blind." She looks down: the city is still there.

A Literary Example

Screencap of Lara (Julie Christie) in the movie Doctor Zhivago, directed by David Lean (1965)

This section provides an analysis of Self-Preservation 3 based on the character of Lara Antipova in Doctor Zhivago.

Lara holds a central role as the main female character alongside the protagonist, Doctor Zhivago, after whom Boris Pasternak’s (1890-1960) best-known novel is named. Yuri Zhivago and Lara Antipova, each in their unique way, navigate their lives in the Soviet Union, deeply impacted by the wartime struggles against Germany, affecting the most intimate aspects of their existence. Doctor Zhivago is, in a way, a novel about life and love, echoing Tolstoy’s Anna Karenina but with a reversal of roles between man and woman.

It tells the story of Yuri Zhivago, a doctor and poet, and his relationships with two women: his wife Tonya, and his lover Lara. It’s crucial to clarify that this analysis strictly focuses on Lara’s character in the novel and not the portrayal in the film, which deviates from Pasternak’s description.

Readers are introduced to Larissa in the second chapter when she arrives in Moscow from the Urals with her mother, a humble dressmaker, and her brother to pursue studies in a

women’s institute. Later throughout the book, the author refers to her almost exclusively by her diminutive, Lara.

“She was a little over sixteen, but she was a fully formed young girl. They gave her eighteen or more. She had a clear mind and an easy character. She was very good-looking [...] She and Rodya [her brother] understood that they would have to get everything in life the hard way, relying only on their own strength.” (p. 37)

In Self-Preservation 3, it’s often ingrained from a young age that they’ll have to get by in life with minimal external support. Additionally, Pasternak points out her emphasis on “doing,” supporting her mother, and a practical attitude toward earning a living:

Lara studied well, not out of an abstract thirst for knowledge, but because to be exempt from paying for one’s studies one had to be a good student, and therefore one had to study well. Just as she studied well, so without effort she washed dishes, helped in the shop, and ran errands for her mother. She moved noiselessly and smoothly, and everything about her—the inconspicuous quickness of her movements, her height, her voice, her gray eyes and fair hair—went perfectly together. (p. 37)

This is very typical in Self-Preservation 3: a tendency to study more for a specific purpose—in this case to get a scholarship—rather than being driven by a deep inner motivation. This personality type is also efficient, orderly, and quick in practical domestic work.

Lara is seduced by Komarovsky, her mother’s friend and supporter “who could have been her father,” and whose strength and “covert boldness prompted the little demon awakened in her to imitation.” She’s drawn to the fact that he “spent money and time on her, called her goddess...” (p. 62). Although she feels vulnerable in his presence, she avoids succumbing to drama or tragedy. Internally, she is caught between feelings of attraction and resentment. While he gives her all the “fatherly” attention she never had, his expectations as a man increasingly irritate her.

Lara was not religious. She did not believe in rites. But sometimes, in order to endure life, she needed it to be accompanied by some inner music. She could not invent such music each time for herself. This music was the word of God about life, and Lara went to church to weep over it. (p. 64)

We often observe in individuals of the Self-Preservation 3 type that their spirituality, particularly during youth, is characterized more by the longing to feel connected and belong, rather than an aspiration toward higher mysticism or supreme enlightenment.

When she becomes too unsettled by Komarovsky’s persistent sexual advances, she looks for a job as a governess and decides to leave home: “For more than three years, Lara lived

with the Kologrivovs as if behind a stone wall” (p. 91). This way, she saves herself from falling victim to the older, dominant, experienced man, from continuing to lead a double life in secrecy, and from losing further control over herself. Here, a distinct contrast emerges between Self-Preservation 3 and E4; Lara becomes somewhat “lost” in this relationship for a while, but through her own decision, determination, and effort, she finds a way out—in this case, through a drastic escape. She doesn’t remain feeling eternally victimized, subdued, and complaining; instead, she leaves without divulging to anyone her reasons for having done so. She keeps quiet about what happened. She also finds nature dearer to her than a father and mother, better than a lover, and wiser than a book. For an instant, the meaning of existence was again revealed to Lara. She was here—so she conceived—in order to see into the mad enchantment of the earth and to call everything by name. (p. 94)

There’s a certain simplicity in this subtype, a sense of security in nature, a closeness to the earth, and an exploration that begins with the available possibilities. Nature doesn’t impose demands; one can’t project personal expectations onto it. Thus, the mind of someone who habitually views themselves through the eyes of others can find repose. It’s in these moments that an awakening to the essentials can occur, a realization that there’s another realm, “a beyond” the routine of everyday life.

Another recurring theme in the conservative mindset, already evident in the young Lara, is being “overtired from the excessive work she had heaped on herself” (p. 94). She works more than required because she wants to feel independent and useful, and because she wants to avoid owing anything. However, as she fails to achieve this and succumbs to melancholy, depression, and confusion, she aims an “imaginary shot... fired at Komarovsky, at herself, at her own fate…” (p. 96). In desperation, she asks her friend Pasha to marry her to save her. After actually shooting Komarovsky, who is only slightly injured, he reflects on her: “There had always been something extraordinary about her. Yet how painfully and, apparently, irreparably he had mutilated her life! How she thrashes about, how she rises up and rebels all the time, striving to remake her fate in her own way and begin life anew!” (p. 113).

For Lara, it’s unfathomable to be defeated by someone who has inflicted so much harm upon her. Many human beings, if not all of us, are in some way “survivors” of trauma, and we respond to it in various ways. In Self-Preservation 3, it is particularly characteristic not to linger in the downfall, not to embrace failure, but to rise as best as they can and forge ahead. Even when very unwell, Lara has a hard time accepting help from a paternal friend: “And, on leaving, he [Kologrivov] forced her, despite her objections, tears, and even something like a scuffle, to accept from him a bank check for ten thousand rubles” (p. 11). This resonates with many processes observed in individuals with the Self-Preservation 3 character—having to learn to allow themselves to be helped, recognizing that there are

moments or situations in life when the notions of “I can do it alone” or “I have to be able to do it alone” reach their genuine limits.

Once married to Pasha and done with her studies, she experiences a period of relative tranquility:

Lara was immersed in her chores and work. She was in charge of the house and her three-year-old daughter Katenka. She took care of all her husband’s affairs and also taught in the girls’ high school. She worked without respite and was happy. This was precisely the life she had dreamed of. (p. 128)

In general, this is the dream of an Self-Preservation 3 woman—a sense of “having achieved everything”: a fulfilling job, a husband, children, and the ability to manage all responsibilities. Yet, life, in its unpredictability, external circumstances, or internal processes, can put an end to this idyll, either abruptly or gradually.

When Pasha decides to leave after receiving a mission, Lara perceives it as “the most serious defeat in her life. Her best, her brightest hopes had collapsed.” However, she doesn’t just sit back and mourn with her arms folded. Instead, she “begins seriously to study the basics of medicine and passes an examination at the clinic to qualify as a nurse” (p. 133). As we’ve observed, two pillars in this subtype are study and work, through which she fulfills her deep need for “security.” Through her studies, she invests in securing a satisfying job that allows her to be self-sufficient, “so that nothing is lacking,” “to treat herself,” “to avoid economic dependence,” and “to be useful.” This feeds her idealized self-image of being “good,” “intelligent,” “hardworking,” “efficient,” and “practical.” Lara approaches things with precision and efficiency. As she wants to search for her husband, she “goes to work as a nurse on a hospital train” heading to the place from where she had received his last letter. She exhibits a pragmatic and focused mindset in pursuing her goals. When on the way, she learns that Zhivago, her childhood friend, works in the town next to her destination, she resourcefully “finds” “a wagon that was headed in that direction” (p. 134).

Upon hearing that her husband is imprisoned, something she struggles to believe, we witness a moment where “She could not hold back the rising tears and did not want to cry in front of strangers. She got up quickly and left the ward, to regain her composure in the corridor” (p. 152). While it’s generally difficult for many women to cry in front of strangers, for Self-Preservation 3, revealing fragility and vulnerability is particularly delicate and feared. It represents one of the greatest self-deceptions inherent in projecting an outward image of being good, efficient, hardworking, empathetic, loyal, and committed—concealing the inner truth where feelings of inadequacy, weakness, fears, sadness, and deep pain also reside.

With the revolution in full swing, Lara finds herself in a hospital near the front, collaborating with Dr. Zhivago. Their first, and so far only, brief, personal, and intimate conversation takes place in Lara’s room while she irons her clothes. Zhivago’s sudden emotional openness and his desire to protect her disturb her to the point that, neglecting her chore, she burns her blouse. She interrupts her activity and instantly ends the conversation. She is visibly touched. In the face of intimacy, and the revelation of someone’s humanity, her defenses begin to melt away.

Much later, the two cross paths again in Yuriatin’s library, with Lara once again immersed in her studies:

Now and then she lapsed into thought, raising her eyes to the ceiling or narrowing them and peering somewhere far ahead of her, and then again, propped on her elbow, her head resting on her hand, in a quick, sweeping movement she penciled some notes in her notebook. Watching her, Yuri Andreevich [Zhivago] was verifying the correctness of his old impressions. “She doesn’t want to be admired,” he thought, “to be beautiful, captivating. She feels a kind of contempt for that side of a woman’s nature, this aspect of femininity; and it is as if she punishes herself for being so good-looking. And that proud hostility to herself increases her irresistibility tenfold.”

Zhivago’s reflections go straight to the heart of the matter: Lara’s way of manifesting vanity. Women of this subtype are not prone to confidently flaunting their femininity. They have neither the lewdness of the feline nor the overt allure of a hysteric. Their expression of femininity is more restrained; they may even possess a form of “anti-vanity,” neglecting the external image, possibly intentionally. She is indeed seductive, but in a more reserved, intellectual manner, designed to be “not so noticeable.” Her womanhood is manifested more in actions, caring for others, and being in service to them.

When the two of them arrive at her house, Zhivago continues to observe her:

“In the reading room I compared the eagerness of her reading with the passion and ardor of actually doing something, of physical work. And, on the contrary, she carries water lightly, effortlessly, as if she were reading. She has this facility in everything. As if she had picked up the momentum for life way back in her childhood, and now everything is done with that momentum, of itself, with the ease of an ensuing consequence. She has it in the line of her back when she bends over, and in the smile that parts her lips and rounds her chin, and in her words and thoughts.” (p. 344)

The author now paints, through Zhivago’s point of view, a picture of an adult Lara. The confusions, limitations, and the tumultuous events of the revolution haven’t broken her. She appears highly focused and attentive to her actions, conveying a sense of even greater integration, softness, freedom, and maturity in her identity.

Lara tells Zhivago about her childhood and her experiences during the revolution:

“In my childhood I saw poverty and labor close up. That makes my attitude towards the revolution different from yours. It’s closer to me. There’s much in it that is dear to me. And suddenly he becomes a colonel, this boy, the yard porter’s son. Or even a White general. I come from a civilian milieu and don’t know much about ranks. By training I’m a history teacher. Yes, that’s how it is, Zhivago. I helped many people.” (p. 347)

Lara is no revolutionary, but she sympathizes with the movement and understands its human and social causes. She is close to people, leveraging her social skills to assist those in need.

Selfishness is less pronounced in the conservative subtype compared to the other two. While prioritizing the primary need for security, they are adept at surviving with little, saving when possible, and demonstrating generosity towards those who possess less than them. Motivated to be a good person and uphold correctness, they are more inclined to help on an individual level rather than being inspired by broader social causes or ideologies.

People like Strelnikov (formerly Antipov), her husband, are incomprehensible to Lara. She tells Zhivago: “They’re flint, not people. Principles. Discipline. [...] He needs to lay all these military laurels at our feet, so as not to come back empty-handed, but all in glory, a conqueror! To immortalize, to bedazzle us! Like a child!” (p. 351)

She desires genuine closeness from him, both towards her daughter and herself. However, the increasing emotional distance caused by his absence, the news of the atrocities he has committed, and his lack of communication about the attitudes that motivate him in his revolutionary struggle alienate her from him more and more.

When Zhivago attempts to break off their love affair and stop seeing her, “Unfelt, unbeknownst to her, tears flowed down Lara’s cheeks, like the rainwater that now poured down the faces of the stone statues opposite, on the house with figures. Sincerely, without affected magnanimity, she repeated quietly: «Do what’s better for you, don’t think about me. I’ll get over it all.» And since she did not know she was crying, she did not wipe her tears.” (p. 353)

Lara acts as if his sufferings were more important than her own. She suppresses her own sadness so as not to “upset him with painful scenes.” All individuals of this subtype can recall situations in their lives where they expressed little emotion despite being deeply affected. It’s a struggle to recognize the importance of the other person in their lives, how much they mean to them, and the pain of their departure. It reflects the difficulty of revealing their true feelings, prioritizing the other’s emotions over their own, and trying to understand them more than themselves. This results in a lack of spontaneity and an inner

disconnection from emotions—a self-annihilation of feelings, buried so long ago and so deeply that there is little access to their expression. Pasternak poetically captures this in describing Lara: “Unfelt, unbeknownst to her, tears flowed down Lara’s cheeks, like the rainwater that now poured down the faces of the stone statues opposite, on the house with figures.” (p. 353)

When Zhivago returns to Lara’s house following his prolonged kidnapping at the hands of partisans and a daring escape, he discovers a letter from Lara addressed to him in the key’s hiding place. In the letter, she explains how to use the house and mentions leaving food for him. The term “security” aptly illustrates her thoughts and actions here—she ensures he has what he needs to survive and be protected. Once again, she embodies the woman who loves, and to love for her means to take care of the other and express her affection through practical support. She returns at last when Zhivago is very ill. “Lara nourished him, nursed him by her care, by her swan-white loveliness, by the moist-breathed, throaty whispering of her questions and answers.” (p. 456)

In the intimate conversations between Lara and Zhivago about life, love, Russian families, and their respective histories, the woman’s maturity is evident in the depth with which she analyzes, understands, and summarizes her experiences. She is very realistic, acknowledging: “All that’s productive, settled, all that’s connected with habitual life, with the human nest and its order, all of it went to rack and ruin along with the upheaval of the whole of society and its reorganization. All everyday things were overturned and destroyed.” (p. 464)

On the one hand, she defends duty, “the call of faithfulness. I would sacrifice everything. Even what’s most dear. You.” On the other hand, she says, “Oh, forgive me. I’m not saying the right thing. It’s not true. [...] What will become of us? What are we to do?” (p. 465) Their fate remains uncertain as they are reunited in the present, each carrying a shattered past and facing an unknown future. Never before have they communicated with such intensity and clarity about how history has shaped their lives. Lara speaks in a very centered and focused manner:

“Then untruth came to the Russian land. The main trouble, the root of the future evil, was the loss of faith in the value of one’s own opinion. [...] This social delusion was all-enveloping, contagious. Everything fell under its influence. Not even our home could stand against this bane. Something in it was shaken.” (p. 466)

Lara doesn’t follow the revolutionary path embraced by the majority. She declares herself affected, but refuses to sacrifice her inner values. Instead, living through those tumultuous times has allowed her to mature and gain clarity about her beliefs. At the same time, she naturally takes care of the house:

She cooked or did laundry and then, with the remaining soapy water, washed the floors in the house. Or, calm and less flushed, she ironed and mended her own, his, and Katenka’s linen. Or, having finished with the cooking, laundry, and tidying up, she gave lessons to Katenka. Or, burying herself in textbooks, she occupied herself with her own political reeducation, before going back to the newly reformed school as a teacher. (pp. 468-469)

Throughout the novel, Pasternak consistently highlights these traits of Lara that align so closely with Self-Preservation 3. As we’re nearing the end, Lara reflects:

“What domestic instinct, what ineradicable striving for a nest and order!” said Larissa Fyodorovna, watching her daughter’s play from the kitchen. “Children are unconstrainedly sincere and not ashamed of the truth, while we, from fear of seeming backward, are ready to betray what’s most dear, to praise the repulsive, and to say yes to the incomprehensible.” (p. 498)

While it might hold true that, in general, adults are more hypocritical than children, the examples Lara mentions are particularly emblematic of the tendency to falsify associated with Type Three individuals, and certainly, with the Self-Preservation subtype.

In the cottage where they have taken refuge, Lara wants to establish order: “Do you have any sort of weapon? No, you see. I’m frightened of your lightheartedness, which you’ve infected me with. It muddles my thinking.” (p. 500)

Then she says:

“Sacrifice a few hours for me during the next few nights and, please, write down everything you’ve recited to me from memory at various times. Half of it has been lost, the other half has never been written down, and I’m afraid you’ll forget it all afterward and it will perish, as you say has often happened to you before.” (p. 501)

Loving and caring go hand in hand. The ease with which she organizes things, puts them in their place, has her feet on the ground, translates ideas into concrete actions, pens down thoughts to safeguard them from being lost, and concretizes the abstract are typical traits of this subtype. Security in the interest of self-preservation is manifested here in her foresight, proactive measures, and a preventive approach to addressing potential issues.

Lara is determined to leave, but under the condition that Zhivago accompanies her:

In the same way, states of equilibrium alternated in her with fits of anguished uneasiness, natural in a hardworking woman unaccustomed to daylong outpourings of the heart and the idle, impermissible luxury of immoderate caresses. (p. 508)

In this situation, where she faces real danger by staying in that house, the perpetual activity of this subtype—though seemingly executed with a sense of tranquility—is unconsciously driven by profound inner restlessness. It’s an addiction to constant action, to having to do; there’s an illusion of alleviating anguish through “doing,” maintaining a semblance of control, providing a sense of “security.”

Ultimately, in the aftermath of Yuri Zhivago’s death, Lara reflects on the images of their relationship with a clear mind and an open heart:

They loved each other. Not out of necessity, not because they were “swept away by passion,” as it is falsely described. They loved each other because everything around them wanted it so: the earth beneath their feet, the sky over their heads, the clouds and trees. [...] Never, never, even in moments of the most gratuitous, self-forgetful happiness, did that most lofty and thrilling thing abandon them: delight in the general mold of the world, the feeling of their relation to the whole picture, the sense of belonging to the beauty of the whole spectacle, to the whole universe.

They breathed only by that oneness. And therefore the exaltation of man over the rest of nature, the fashionable fussing over and worshipping of man, never appealed to them. Such false principles of social life, turned into politics, seemed to them pathetically homemade and remained incomprehensible. (p. 573)

Love transcends, at least at times, the limitations of character. It’s, yet again, the simplicity of Lara’s soul that allows her, along with Zhivago, to feel that they are part of a whole, part of nature, in harmony with the cosmos, and immune to the aspirations, ambitions, and promises of the “new world” heralded by political factions.

Although she is in despair over Yuri’s death and torments herself with guilt for their separation (that was involuntary on her part), as well as the events that unfolded afterward, she says: “There’s no peace for my soul from pity and torment. But I’m not telling, I’m not revealing the main thing. I can’t name it, I haven’t got strength enough.” (p. 574). And she begins “the sorting of papers she had talked about with Evgraf Andreevich” (p. 575).

Once again, she is focused and dedicated to fulfilling what holds significance and meaning for her. However, she’s not destined to complete it.

One day, Larissa Fyodorovna left the house and did not come back again. Evidently, she was arrested on the street in those days and died or vanished; no one knew where, forgotten under some nameless number on subsequently lost lists, in one of the countless general or women’s concentration camps in the north. (p. 575)

Lara remains in the reader’s memory as a character who has lived her life and fate with remarkable dignity amid challenges and difficult circumstances; who has loved deeply, and has, at times, transcended, with considerable light, the confines of character.