Ambiguity of “The Birthmark” There are many instances of ambiguity in “The Birthmark” by Nathaniel Hawthorne; This essay hopes to explore critics' comments on this problem in the tale, as well as analyze it from this reader's perspective. In New England Men of Letters, Wilson Sullivan recounts Hawthorne's use of opposites in his tales: He sought, in the telling words of Hamlet. to his palace players, “to hold up the mirror to nature” and to report what he saw in this mirror. . . “Life is made of marble and mud,” Hawthorne said. In the pages of his most beautiful works, marble and mud are maintained in a fair, unique and artistic balance (95). Hawthorne's juxtaposition of opposites, "marble and mud" in "The Birthmark" is a contributing factor to the ambiguity. in history. How could someone like Aminadab work alongside intellectual scientist Aylmer? How can Georgiana proceed with the experimental treatment after reading Aylmer's scientific journal and witnessing the failure of the flower and photograph experiments? Peter Conn in “Finding a Voice in a New Nation” makes a statement regarding Hawthorne's ambiguity: “Almost all of Hawthorne's greatest stories are distant in time or space. The glare of contemporary reality has immobilized his imagination. He needed shadows and penumbra, and he sought a nervous balance in ambiguity” (82). Hyatt H. Wagoner in “Nathaniel Hawthorne” testifies that Hawthorne's ambiguity has proven to be an asset in contemporary times where readers appreciate such quality. in fiction: Since we are in an age where irony, ambiguity and paradox are at the center not only of literature but also of life, it is not surprising that Hawthorne seemed to us one of the most modern American writers of the 19th century. The breadth and general excellence of Hawthorne's great critical outpouring over the past decade attests to its relevance to us (54). Henry James in Hawthorne mentions how Hawthorne's allegorical meanings should be expressed more clearly: I frankly confess that I have, as a general thing, but that I feel little pleasure in it, and that it has not never seemed to be, so to speak, a literary form of the first order. . . . But that risks spoiling two good things: a story and a moral, a meaning and a form; and this taste is responsible for much of the force-fed writing that has been inflicted on the world..