Character Analysis
In the simple version of O Pioneers!, Frank is just the bad guy.
That's usually what comes of being a murderer, right? In the more complicated version, though, Franks appears something like a victim of his own circumstances. In particular, it's seeing his suffering at the end of the novel that tends to bring the reader around to his side.
Well, sort of.
No More Nebraska Stylin'
Aside from the scenes in which he murders Emil and Marie, and meets with Alexandra in prison, Frank doesn't play a major role in O Pioneers! Fortunately the narrator does a lot of filling in, giving us key insights into his character. It's these insights that help us to feel some sympathy for Frank.
Let's take a look at one example. Here, the narrator pulls up an image of Frank from his youth, when Marie first met him.
He was easily the buck of the beer-gardens, and on Sunday he was a sight to see, with his silk hat and tucked shirt and blue frock-coat, wearing gloves and carrying a little wisp of a yellow cane. He was tall and fair, with splendid teeth and close-cropped yellow curls, and he wore a slightly disdainful expression, proper for a young man with high connections, whose mother had a big farm in the Elbe valley. (2.7.1)
Now, this image of Frank as a Nebraskan dandy definitely contrasts with the Frank we've gotten used to. It'd be more likely to find the Frank we know in a pair of muddy overalls. So, this description of Frank's past life gives us the sense that he's fallen from a high position in the world, and that's probably why he feels so resentful: getting married and moving out into the sticks dealt a serious blow to his ego.
But on top of having a bruised ego about his lower social station in life, Frank has a decidedly bad attitude about marriage. If he can't be happy, he doesn't want anyone, especially Marie, to be happy. Check out the narrator's words here, depicting Frank's thoughts during the Catholic fair, right after Emil's return from Mexico:
At the bottom of his heart Frank knew well enough that if he could once give up his grudge, his wife would come back to him. But he could never in the world do that. The grudge was fundamental. Perhaps he could not have given it up if he had tried. Perhaps he got more satisfaction out of feeling himself abused than he would have got out of being loved. If he could once have made Marie thoroughly unhappy, he might have relented and raised her from the dust. But she had never humbled herself. (4.1.19)
Clearly, a bruised ego is not a pretty sight.
But in fact, a passage like this one allows us to see that Frank isn't all bad; he's just weak. He's the kind of person who needs to feel better, fancier, bigger than others, and when he can't have his way, he chooses the path of bitter resentment. Plus, the narrator portrays him in a position of helplessness: his grudge against Marie is "fundamental," implying that it can't be changed, and it's said outright that he couldn't change this negative outlook "if he had tried."
We'll Never Stop Saying Maria
One thing is obvious: there are a lot of reasons not to like Frank, but he's not an evil person. He's a casualty of his own weak character, and the fluctuations of social life. This alone, though, doesn't give us a good foundation for sympathy. We can understand Frank, perhaps, but his bad attitude and bruised ego don't do much to endear us to him.
That starts to change after Frank murders Emil and Marie. For one, it's not a premeditated act. He hears a sound through the hedge, and without seeing either of them, his body responds "mechanically," firing three times (4.7.4). It could have been an animal burrowing in the orchard; it just happened to be his wife having an affair.
And then, there's his reaction, when he hears Marie's cries of pain and discovers what he has done. Despite all those descriptions of Frank's jealously, here, he "knew that he was to blame" (4.7.8). Check it out:
For three years he had been trying to break her spirit. She had a way of making the best of things that seemed to him a sentimental affectation. He wanted his wife to resent that he was wasting his best years among these stupid and unappreciative people; but she had seemed to find the people quite good enough. (4.7.8)
Sure, Frank has been a jerk. But he also knows that he's been a jerk. And now, we are here to watch him suffer the pain of regret, when he realizes where his abusive behavior has got him. But it doesn't stop there:
If he ever got rich he meant to buy her pretty clothes and take her to California in a Pullman car, and treat her like a lady; but in the mean time he wanted her to feel that life was as ugly and unjust as he felt it. He had tried to make her life ugly. […] When she first came to him, her faith in him, her adoration—Frank struck the mare with his fist. Why had Marie made him do this thing; why had she brought this upon him? He was overwhelmed by sickening misfortune. All at once he heard her cries again—he had forgotten for a moment. "Maria," he sobbed aloud, "Maria!"
Frank's suffering doesn't stop, matched only by Marie's cries of pain and grief. The narrator takes us right into the storm of his thoughts, making it possible for us to really feel what he is feeling, and identify, even sympathize, with him.
From Farm to Slammer
Now, check out Frank when he's in prison. He might have had a bruised ego before, but now his whole personality is crushed. He's gone.
Frank smiled at her queerly. His eyes filled slowly with tears. "You know, I most forgit dat woman's name. She ain't got no name for me no more. I never hate my wife, but dat woman what make me do dat—Honest to God, but I hate her! I no man to fight. I don' want to kill no boy and no woman. I not care how many men she take under dat tree. I no care for not'ing but date fine boy I kill, Alexandra Bergson. I guess I go crazy sure 'nough." (5.2.33)
This kind of passage tells us that Frank is not a cold-blooded murderer. In fact, the act of killing Emil and Marie has been enough to drive him to the brink of insanity. In the end, he, too, is a victim of his own crime, and we can even share Alexandra's sentiment that "Frank could not have acted otherwise" (5.1.32).