Literary Analysis of “I Want You,” by Bob Dylan
Like much of Bob Dylan’s other work, the lyrics are complex, expressing conflict between lovers, unrequited yearning for the unavailable object of love, and philosophical reflections on the meaning of life, as well as pride and self-doubt.[1]
In his customary fashion, Dylan expresses his themes through layers of semi-opaque metaphor. We will confine ourselves here to the question of unrequited love that I, henceforward spelled Aye, feels for You, which we will spell Yu. (By employing these spellings, we avoid confusion between the pronouns and the names of the characters.)
The object of Aye’s desire is Yu, to whom he addresses his simple but powerful apostrophe, “I want you.” Repeated several more time throughout the piece, this phrase creates a mood of helpless longing. As we read on, it gradually becomes clear that Yu is not present, although he speaks as if s/he is.
This in turn raises other questions. What kind of person is this unattainable love object, and why does Aye continue to obsess about someone he considers to be out of his league? Also, why does he remain stuck with wanting, rather than going ahead and making a play?
Even though Aye is a somewhat unreliable narrator, and Yu remains offstage for the duration of the drama, we can still deduce certain impressions. The tragic protagonist is convinced that Yu is socially beyond him, that he has no hope of winning her love.
Instead, he consoles himself by having an affair with the chambermaid, who “understands” him, which implies by contrast that Yu does not. The chambermaid, on the other hand, responds willingly to his advances, as shown by the lines “She is good to me/ And there’s nothing she doesn’t see/ She knows where I’d like to be/ But it doesn’t matter.” Apparently, the chambermaid is not the jealous type, but this she provides little consolation to the protagonist.
Aye continues to yearn for the unattainable Yu, even as he fears to approach her. From the opening of the ballad, we get the impression that Aye has fled from Yu’s presence, perhaps out of a sense of fear or inferiority. Meanwhile, he seeks external signs that he will be able to consummate an affair with her. On the one hand, he considers it his fate to get together with her: “I wasn’t born to lose you.”
Gloomily, he sees negative omens and interprets them to mean he will lose his chance with her. Reeling down the street after leaving a bar or dance hall, he convinces himself that the musical instruments are ridiculing him “with scorn.” In a fashion often resorted to by males, Aye attempts to come to terms with his pain by externalizing it. He also tries to distract himself by thinking about politics.
Unfortunately both prove fruitless. The “drunken politicians” only disgust him; they have done nothing to help the suffering mothers, who weep on the street. From Aye’s obvious concern for these impoverished mothers, we may infer something about his childhood. Perhaps his own mother had difficulty raising him. The failure of the government to help her could well be the original source of his personal insecurity and his dissatisfaction with society in general.
Aye grows increasingly desperate as he convinces himself that better men than him, “saviours,” are waiting for Yu. Once more he reveals his sense of helplessness and inferiority: all he can do is to wait for the these superior individuals to wake up. When they do, he expects little from them. He assumes they will tell him to stop drinking, so he can serve as the gateman at Yu’s mansion. This strongly suggests that he feels that the gap between his poverty and her wealth is impossible to bridge.
The symbolism of the opening gate also hints at his unrelenting sexual fantasies about her. In despair over his chances, Aye becomes his own worst enemy, acting against his interests by venting his spleen on her “dancing child with his Chinese suit.” It is unclear whether this is actually Yu’s child, or whether this character is metaphorical, presumably a servant or a hired entertainer.
Clearly, Yu is not going to be charmed when she learns Aye “took his flute.” This violent, dishonest and bullying behaviour toward a young person Yu is fond of is more likely to alienate than endear. Belatedly, Aye feels some remorse and tries to justify his actions. He admits he is jealous of the youth, but also claims he punished him because he had lied to Yu. This is most likely a case of psychological projection, Aye attempting to act out his emotional distress. Indeed, Aye is hardly in a position to say whether the dancing child actually did anything wrong.
In conclusion, this tragic ballad begins and ends with Aye mooning over Yu, whom we never see, and who may not even be aware of his existence. Motivated by anger, jealousy and his sense of his own inferiority, Aye indulges in various behaviours that drives him further and further away from Yu. He gets drunk, he releases his unresolved sexual tensions on the chambermaid, and he violently snatches the flute from its owner without provocation—all this without finding the courage to speak to Yu directly. As the song ends, the tragically flawed protagonist has not managed to bring his internal conflict to a satisfactory resolution. Still unsatisfied, still talking to himself, he continues to yearn for Yu.
[1] “Baby Let me Follow You Down,” “Farewell, Angelina,” and “Maggie’s Farm” all deal with themes of unrequited or spurned love.