1.

Bernard Malamud The Magic Barrel + The Theme of the Three Caskets
2. Alice Walker Nineteen Fift!Fi"e
#. $amond Car"er What We Talk A%out When We Talk A%out &o"e
'. $ichard Ford $ock ()rings
*. Mukher+ee Bharati The Management of ,rief
-. &ee (mith . Bernard Malamud /ntensi"e Care .
0 Tim 12Brien The Things The Carried
3 (herman Ale4ie This /s What /t Means to (a 5hoeni4 Ari6ona
7 (andra Cisneros . 8unot 9ia6 The :ouse on Mango (treet . Fiesta 173;
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Bernard Malamud
Bernard Malamud
The Magic Barrel
Not long ago there lived in uptown New York, in a
small, almost meager room, though crowded with
books, Leo Finkle, a rabbinical student in the
Yeshivah University. Finkle, after six years of study,
was to be ordained in une and had been advised by
an ac!uaintance that he might find it easier to win
himself a congregation if he were married. "ince he
had no present prospects of marriage, after two
tormented days of turning it over in his mind, he
called in #inye "al$man, a marriage broker whose
two%line advertisement he had read in the Forward.
&he matchmaker appeared one night out of the
dark fourth%floor hallway of the graystone rooming
house where Finkle lived, grasping a black, strapped
portfolio that had been worn thin with use. "al$man,
who had been long in the business, was of slight but
dignified build, wearing an old hat, and an overcoat
too short and tight for him. 'e smelled frankly of
fish, which he loved to eat, and although he was
missing a few teeth, his presence was not
displeasing, because of an amiable manner curiously
contrasted with mournful eyes. 'is voice, his lips,
his wisp of beard, his bony fingers were animated,
but give him a moment of repose and his mild blue
eyes revealed a depth of sadness, a characteristic
that put Leo a little at ease although the situation,
for him, was inherently tense.
'e at once informed "al$man why he had asked
him to come, explaining that his home was in
(leveland, and that but for his parents, who had
married comparatively late in life, he was alone in
the world. 'e had for six years devoted himself
almost entirely to his studies, as a result of which,
understandably, he had found himself without time
for a social life and the company of young women.
&herefore he thought it the better part of trial and
error ) of embarrassing fumbling ) to call in an
experienced person to advise him on these matters.
'e remarked in passing that the function of the
marriage broker was ancient and honorable, highly
approved in the ewish community, because it made
practical the necessary without hindering *oy.
+oreover, his own parents had been brought
together by a matchmaker. &hey had made, if not a
financially profitable marriage ) since neither had
possessed any worldly goods to speak of ) at least a
successful one in the sense of their everlasting
devotion to each other. "al$man listened in
embarrassed surprise, sensing a sort of apology.
Later, however, he experienced a glow of pride in his
work, an emotion that had left him years ago, and he
heartily approved of Finkle.
&he two went to their business. Leo had led
"al$man to the only clear place in the room, a table
near a window that overlooked the lamp%lit city. 'e
seated himself at the matchmaker,s side but facing
him, attempting by an act of will to suppress the
unpleasant tickle in his throat. "al$man eagerly
unstrapped his portfolio and removed a loose rubber
band from a thin packet of much%handled cards. -s
he flipped through them, a gesture and sound that
physically hurt Leo, the student pretended not to see
and ga$ed steadfastly out the window. -lthough it
was still February, winter was on its last legs, signs
of which he had for the first time in years begun to
notice. 'e now observed the round white moon,
moving high in the sky through a cloud menagerie,
and watched with half%open mouth as it penetrated a
huge hen, and dropped out of her like an egg laying
itself. "al$man, though pretending through eye%
glasses he had *ust slipped on, to be engaged in
scanning the writing on the cards, stole occasional
glances at the young man,s distinguished face,
noting with pleasure the long, severe scholar,s nose,
brown eyes heavy with learning, sensitive yet ascetic
lips, and a certain, almost hollow !uality of the dark
cheeks. 'e ga$ed around at shelves upon shelves of
books and let out a soft, contented sigh.
.hen Leo,s eyes fell upon the cards, he counted
six spread out in "al$man,s hand.
/"o few01 he asked in disappointment.
/You wouldn,t believe me how much cards 2 got in
my office,1 "al$man replied. /&he drawers are
already filled to the top, so 2 keep them now in a
barrel, but is every girl good for a new rabbi01
Leo blushed at this, regretting all he had revealed
of himself in a curriculum vitae he had sent to
"al$man. 'e had thought it best to ac!uaint him
with his strict standards and specifications, but in
having done so, felt he had told the marriage broker
more than was absolutely necessary.
'e hesitantly in!uired, /3o you keep photographs
of your clients on file01
/First comes family, amount of dowry, also what
kind of promises,1 "al$man replied, unbuttoning his
tight coat and settling himself in the chair. /-fter
comes pictures, rabbi.1
/(all me +r. Finkle. 2,m not yet a rabbi.1
2
"al$man said he would, but instead called him
doctor, which he changed to rabbi when Leo was not
listening too attentively.
"al$man ad*usted his horn%rimmed spectacles,
gently cleared his throat and read in an eager voice
the contents of the top card4
/"ophie #. &wenty%four years. .idow one year. No
children. 5ducated high school and two years
college. Father promises eight thousand dollars. 'as
wonderful wholesale business. -lso real estate. 6n
the mother,s side comes teachers, also one actor.
.ell known on "econd -venue.1
Leo ga$ed up in surprise. /3id you say a widow01
/- widow don,t mean spoiled, rabbi. "he lived with
her husband maybe four months. 'e was a sick boy
she made a mistake to marry him.1
/+arrying a widow has never entered my mind.1
/&his is because you have no experience. - widow,
especially if she is young and healthy like this girl, is
a wonderful person to marry. "he will be thankful to
you the rest of her life. 7elieve me, if 2 was looking
now for a bride, 2 would marry a widow.1
Leo reflected, then shook his head.
"al$man hunched his shoulders in an almost
imperceptible gesture of disappointment. 'e placed
the card down on the wooden table and began to
read another4
/Lily '. 'igh school teacher. 8egular. Not a
substitute. 'as savings and new 3odge car. Lived in
#aris one year. Father is successful dentist thirty%five
years. 2nterested in professional man. .ell
-mericani$ed family. .onderful opportunity.1
/2 knew her personally,1 said "al$man. /2 wish you
could see this girl. "he is a doll. -lso very intelligent.
-ll day you could talk to her about books and
theyater and what not. "he also knows current
events.1
/2 don,t believe you mentioned her age01
/'er age01 "al$man said, raising his brows. /'er
age is thirty%two years.1
/Leo said after a while, /2,m afraid that seems a
little too old.
"al$man let out a laugh. /"o how old are you,
rabbi01
/&wenty%seven.1
/"o what is the difference, tell me, between
twenty%seven and thirty%two0 +y own wife is seven
years older than me. "o what did 2 suffer0 ) Nothing.
2f 8othschild,s daughter wants to marry you, would
you say on account her age, no01
/Yes,1 Leo said dryly.
"al$man shook off the no in the eyes. /Five years
don,t mean a thing. 2 give you my word that when
you will live with her for one week you will forget her
age. .hat does it mean five years ) that she lived
more and knows more than somebody who is
younger0 6n this girl, 9od bless her, years are not
wasted. 5ach one that it comes makes better the
bargain.1
/.hat sub*ect does she teach in high school01
/Languages. 2f you heard the way she speaks
French, you will think it is music. 2 am in the
business twenty%five years, and 2 recommend her
with my whole heart. 7elieve me, 2 know what 2,m
talking, rabbi.1
/.hat,s on the next card01 Leo said abruptly.
"al$man reluctantly turned up the third card4
/8uth :. Nineteen years. 'onor student. Father
offers thirteen thousand cash to the right
bridegroom. 'e is a medical doctor. "tomach
specialist with marvelous practice. 7rother in law
owns garment business. #articular people.1
"al$man looked as if he had read his trump card.
/3id you say nineteen01 Leo asked with interest.
/6n the dot.1
/2s she attractive01 'e blushed. /#retty01
"al$man kissed his finger tips. /- little doll. 6n
this 2 give you my word. Let me call the father
tonight and you will see what means pretty.1
7ut Leo was troubled. /You,re sure she,s that
young01
/&his 2 am positive. &he father will show you the
birth certificate.1
/-re you positive there isn,t something wrong with
her01 Leo insisted.
/.ho says there is wrong01
/2 don,t understand why an -merican girl her age
should go to a marriage broker.1
- smile spread over "al$man,s face.
/"o for the same reason you went, she comes.1
Leo flushed. /2 am passed for time.1
"al$man, reali$ing he had been tactless, !uickly
explained. /&he father came, not her. 'e wants she
should have the best, so he looks around himself.
.hen we will locate the right boy he will introduce
him and encourage. &his makes a better marriage
than if a young girl without experience takes for
herself. 2 don,t have to tell you this.1
/7ut don,t you think this young girl believes in
love01 Leo spoke uneasily.
"al$man was about was about to guffaw but caught
himself and said soberly, /Love comes with the right
person, not before.1
Leo parted dry lips but did not speak. Noticing that
"al$man had snatched a glance at the next card, he
cleverly asked, /'ow is her health01
/#erfect,1 "al$man said, breathing with difficulty.
/6f course, she is a little lame on her right foot from
an auto accident that it happened to her when she
was twelve years, but nobody notices on account she
is so brilliant and also beautiful.1
Leo got up heavily and went to the window. 'e felt
curiously bitter and upbraided himself for having
called in the marriage broker. Finally, he shook his
head.
/.hy not01 "al$man persisted, the pitch of his
voice rising.
/7ecause 2 detest stomach specialists.1
/"o what do you care what is his business0 -fter
you marry her do you need him0 .ho says he must
come every Friday night in your house01
-shamed of the way the talk was going, Leo
dismissed "al$man, who went home with heavy,
melancholy eyes.
&hough he had felt only relief at the marriage
broker,s departure, Leo was in low spirits the next
day. 'e explained it as rising from "al$man,s failure
to produce a suitable bride for him. 'e did not care
for his type of clientele. 7ut when Leo found himself
hesitating whether to seek out another matchmaker,
one more polished than #inye, he wondered if it
could be ) protestations to the contrary, and
3
although he honored his father and mother ) that he
did not, in essence, care for the matchmaking
institution0 &his thought he !uickly put out of mind
yet found himself still upset. -ll day he ran around
the woods ) missed an important appointment,
forgot to give out his laundry, walked out of a
7roadway cafeteria without paying and had to run
back with the ticket in his hand; had even not
recogni$ed his landlady in the street when she
passed with a friend and courteously called out, /-
good evening to you, 3octor Finkle.1 7y nightfall,
however, he had regained sufficient calm to sink his
nose into a book and there found peace from his
thoughts.
-lmost at once there came a knock on the door.
7efore Leo could say enter, "al$man, commercial
cupid, was standing in the room. 'is face was gray
and meager, his expression hungry, and he looked as
if he would expire on his feet. Yet the marriage
broker managed, by some trick of the muscles to
display a broad smile.
/"o good evening. 2 am invited01
Leo nodded, disturbed to see him again, yet
unwilling to ask the man to leave.
7eaming still, "al$man laid his portfolio on the
table. /8abbi, 2 got for you tonight good news.1
/2,ve asked you not to call me rabbi. 2,m still a
student.1
/Your worries are finished. 2 have for you a first%
class bride.1
/Leave me in peace concerning this sub*ect.1 Leo
pretended lack of interest.
/&he world will dance at your wedding.1
/#lease, +r. "al$man, no more.1
/7ut first must come back my strength,1 "al$man
said weakly. 'e fumbled with the portfolio straps
and took out of the leather case an oily paper bag,
from which he extracted a hard, seeded roll and a
small, smoked white fish. .ith a !uick emotion of
his hand he stripped the fish out of its skin and
began ravenously to chew. /-ll day in a rush,1 he
muttered.
Leo watched him eat.
/- sliced tomato you have maybe01 "al$man
hesitantly in!uired.
/No.1
&he marriage broker shut his eyes and ate. .hen
he had finished he carefully cleaned up the crumbs
and rolled up the remains of the fish, in the paper
bag. 'is spectacled eyes roamed the room until he
discovered, amid some piles of books, a one%burner
gas stove. Lifting his hat he humbly asked, /- glass
of tea you got, rabbi01
(onscience%stricken, Leo rose and brewed the tea.
'e served it with a chunk of lemon and two cubes of
lump sugar, delighting "al$man.
-fter he had drunk his tea, "al$man,s strength and
good spirits were restored.
/"o tell me rabbi,1 he said amiably, /you
considered some more the three clients 2 mentioned
yesterday01
/&here was no need to consider.1
/.hy not01
/None of them suits me.1
/.hat then suits you01
Leo let it pass because he could give only a
confused answer.
.ithout waiting for a reply, "al$man asked, /You
remember this girl 2 talked to you ) the high school
teacher01
/-ge thirty%two01
7ut surprisingly, "al$man,s face lit in a smile. /-ge
twenty%nine.1
Leo shot him a look. /8educed from thirty%two01
/- mistake,1 "al$man avowed. /2 talked today with
the dentist. 'e took me to his safety deposit box and
showed me the birth certificate. "he was twenty%nine
years last -ugust. &hey made her a party in the
mountains where she went for her vacation. .hen
her father spoke to me the first time 2 forgot to write
the age and 2 told you thirty%two, but now 2
remember this was a different client, a widow.1
/&he same one you told me about0 2 thought she
was twenty%four01
/- different. -m 2 responsible that the world is
filled with widows01
/No, but 2,m not interested in them, nor for that
matter, in school teachers.1
"al$man pulled his clasped hand to his breast.
Looking at the ceiling he devoutly exclaimed,
/Yiddishe kinder, what can 2 say to somebody that he
is not interested in high school teachers0 "o what
then you are interested01
Leo flushed but controlled himself.
/2n what else will you be interested,1 "al$man
went on, /if you not interested in this fine girl that
she speaks four languages and has personally in the
bank ten thousand dollars0 -lso her father
guarantees further twelve thousand. -lso she has a
new car, wonderful clothes, talks on all sub*ects, and
she will give you a first%class home and children.
'ow near do we come in our life to paradise01
2f she,s so wonderful, why wasn,t she married ten
years ago01
/.hy01 said "al$man with a heavy laugh. / ) .hy0
7ecause she is partikiler. &his is why. "he wants the
best.1
Leo was silent, amused at how he had entangled
himself. 7ut "al$man had arouse his interest in Lily
'., and he began seriously to consider calling on her.
.hen the marriage broker observed how intently
Leo,s mind was at work on the facts he had supplied,
he felt certain they would soon come to an
agreement.
Late "aturday afternoon, conscious of "al$man,
Leo Finkle walked with Lily 'irschorn along
8iverside 3rive. 'e walked briskly and erectly,
wearing with distinction the black fedora he had that
morning taken with trepidation out of the dusty hat
box on his closet shelf, and the heavy black "aturday
coat he had throughly whisked clean. Leo also owned
a walking stick, a present from a distant relative, but
!uickly put temptation aside and did not use it. Lily,
petite and not unpretty, had on something signifying
the approach of spring. "he was au courant,
animatedly, with all sorts of sub*ects, and he
weighed her words and found her surprisingly sound
) score another for "al$man, whom he uneasily
sensed to be somewhere around, hiding perhaps
high in a tree along the street, flashing the lady
signals with a pocket mirror; or perhaps a cloven%
hoofed #an, piping nuptial ditties as he danced his
invisible way before them, strewing wild buds on the
walk and purple grapes in their path, symboli$ing
4
fruit of a union, though there was of course still
none.
Lily startled Leo by remarking, /2 was thinking of
+r. "al$man, a curious figure, wouldn,t you say01
Not certain what to answer, he nodded.
"he bravely went on, blushing, /2 for one am
grateful for his introducing us. -ren,t you01
'e courteously replied, /2 am.1
/2 mean,1 she said with a little laugh ) and it was
all in good taste, to at least gave the effect of being
not in bad ) 1do you mind that we came together
so01
'e was not displeased with her honesty,
recogni$ing that she meant to set the relationship
aright, and understanding that it took a certain
amount of experience in life, and courage, to want to
do it !uite that way. 6ne had to have some sort of
past to make that kind of beginning.
'e said that he did not mind. "al$man,s function
was traditional and honorable ) valuable for what it
might achieve, which, he pointed out, was fre!uently
nothing.
Lily agreed with a sigh. &hey walked on for a while
and she said after a long silence, again with a
nervous laugh, /.ould you mind if 2 asked you
something a little bit personal0 Frankly, 2 find the
sub*ect fascinating.1 -lthough Leo shrugged, she
went on half embarrassedly, /'ow was it that you
came to your calling0 2 mean was it a sudden
passionate inspiration01
Leo, after a time, slowly replied, /2 was always
interested in the Law.1
/You saw revealed in it the presence of the
'ighest01
'e nodded and changed the sub*ect. /2 understand
that you spent a little time in #aris, +iss
'irschorn01
/6h, did +r. "al$man tell you, 8abbi Finkle01 Leo
winced but she went on, /2t was ages ago and almost
forgotten. 2 remember 2 had to return for my sister,s
wedding.1
-nd Lily would not be put off. /.hen,1 she asked
in a trembly voice, /did you become enamored of
9od01
'e stared at her. &hen it came to him that she was
talking not about Leo Finkle, but of a total stranger,
some mystical figure, perhaps even passionate
prophet that "al$man had dreamed up for her ) no
relation to the living or dead. Leo trembled with rage
and weakness. &he trickster had obviously sold her a
bill of goods, *ust as he had him, who,d expected to
become ac!uainted with a young lady of twenty%
nine, only to behold, the moment he laid eyes upon
her strained and anxious face, a woman past thirty%
five and aging rapidly. 6nly his self control had kept
him this long in her presence.
/2 am not,1 he said gravely, /a talented religious
person.1 and in seeking words to go on, found
himself possessed by shame and fear. /2 think,1 he
said in a strained manner, /that 2 came to 9od not
because 2 love 'im, but because 2 did not.1
&his confession he spoke harshly because its
unexpectedness shook him.
Lily wilted. Leo saw a profusion of loaves of bread
go flying like ducks high over his head, not unlike
the winged loaves by which he had counted himself
to sleep last night. +ercifully, then, it snowed, which
he would not put past "al$man,s machinations.
'e was infuriated with the marriage broker and
swore he would throw him out of the room the
minute he reappeared. 7ut "al$man did not come
that night, and when Leo,s anger had subsided, an
unaccountable despair grew in its place. -t first he
thought this was caused by his disappointment in
Lily, but before long it became evident that he had
involved himself with "al$man without a true
knowledge of his own intent. 'e gradually reali$ed )
with an emptiness that sei$ed him with six hands )
that he had called in the broker to find him a bride
because he was incapable of doing it himself. &his
terrifying insight he had derived as a result of his
meeting and conversation with Lily 'irschorn. 'er
probing !uestions had somehow irritated him into
revealing ) to himself more than her ) the true
nature of his relationship to 9od, and from that it
had come upon him, with shocking force, that apart
from his parents, he had never loved anyone. 6r
perhaps it went the other way, that he did not love
9od so well as he might, because he had not loved
man. 2t seemed to Leo that his whole life stood
starkly revealed and he saw himself for the first time
as he truly was ) unloved and loveless. &his bitter
but somehow not fully unexpected revelation
brought him to a point to panic, controlled only by
extraordinary effort. 'e covered his face with his
hands and cried.
&he week that followed was the worst of his life.
'e did not eat and lost weight. 'is beard darkened
and grew ragged. 'e stopped attending seminars
and almost never opened a book. 'e seriously
considered leaving the Yeshiva, although he was
deeply troubled at the thought of the loss of all his
years of study ) saw them like pages torn from a
book, strewn over the city ) and at the devastating
effect of this decision upon his parents. 7ut he had
lived without knowledge of himself, and never in the
Five 7ooks and all the (ommentaries ) mea culpa )
had the truth been revealed to him. 'e did not know
where to turn, and in all this desolating loneliness
there was no to whom, although he often thought of
Lily but not once could bring himself to go
downstairs and make the call. 'e became touchy
and irritable, especially with his landlady, who asked
him all manner of personal !uestions; on the other
hand sensing his own disagreeableness, he waylaid
her on the stairs and apologi$ed ab*ectly, until
mortified, she ran from him. 6ut of this, however, he
drew the consolation that he was a ew and that a
ew suffered. 7ut generally, as the long and terrible
week drew to a close, he regained his composure and
some idea of purpose in life to go on as planned.
-lthough he was imperfect, the ideal was not. -s for
his !uest of a bride, the thought of continuing
afflicted him with anxiety and heartburn, yet
perhaps with this new knowledge of himself he
would be more successful than in the past. #erhaps
love would now come to him and a bride to that love.
-nd for this sanctified seeking who needed a
"al$man0
&he marriage broker, a skeleton with haunted
eyes, returned that very night. 'e looked, withal, the
5
picture of frustrated expectancy ) as if he had
steadfastly waited the week at +iss Lily 'irschorn,s
side for a telephone call that never came.
(asually coughing, "al$man came immediately to
the point4 /"o how did you like her01
Leo,s anger rose and he could not refrain from
chiding the matchmaker4 /.hy did you lie to me,
"al$man01
"al$man,s pale face went dead white, the world
had snowed on him.
/3id you not state that she was twenty%nine0, Leo
insisted.
/2 give you my word ) 1
/"he was thirty%five, if a day. -t least thirty%five.1
/6f this don,t be too sure. 'er father told me ) 1
/Never mind. &he worst of it was that you lied to
her.1
/'ow did 2 lie to her, tell me01
/You told her things abut me that weren,t true.
You made out to be more, conse!uently less than 2
am. "he had in mind a totally different person, a sort
of semi%mystical .onder 8abbi.1
/-ll 2 said, you was a religious man.1
/2 can imagine.1
"al$man sighed. /&his is my weakness that 2 have,1
he confessed. /+y wife says to me 2 shouldn,t be a
salesman, but when 2 have two fine people that they
would be wonderful to be married, 2 am so happy
that 2 talk too much.1 'e smiled wanly. /&his is why
"al$man is a poor man.1
Leo,s anger left him. /.ell, "al$man, 2,m afraid
that,s all.1
&he marriage broker fastened hungry eyes on him.
/You don,t want any more a bride01
/2 do,1 said Leo, /but 2 have decided to seek her in
a different way. 2 am no longer interested in an
arranged marriage. &o be frank, 2 now admit the
necessity of premarital love. &hat is, 2 want to be in
love with the one 2 marry.1
/Love01 said "al$man, astounded. -fter a moment
he remarked /For us, our love is our life, not for the
ladies. 2n the ghetto they ) 1
/2 know, 2 know,1 said Leo. /2,ve thought of it
often. Love, 2 have said to myself, should be a by%
product of living and worship rather than its own
end. Yet for myself 2 find it necessary to establish the
level of my need and fulfill it.1
"al$man shrugged but answered, /Listen, rabbi, if
you want love, this 2 can find for you also. 2 have
such beautiful clients that you will love them the
minute your eyes will see them.1
Leo smiled unhappily. /2,m afraid you don,t
understand.1
7ut "al$man hastily unstrapped his portfolio and
withdrew a manila packet from it.
/#ictures,1 he said, !uickly laying the envelope on
the table.
Leo called after him to take the pictures away, but
as if on the wings of the wind, "al$man had
disappeared.
+arch came. Leo had returned to his regular
routine. -lthough he felt not !uite himself yet )
lacked energy ) he was making plans for a more
active social life. 6f course it would cost something,
but he was an expert in cutting corners; and when
there were no corners left he would make circles
rounder. -ll the while "al$man,s pictures had lain on
the table, gathering dust. 6ccasionally as Leo sat
studying, or en*oying a cup of tea, his eyes fell on the
manila envelope, but he never opened it.
&he days went by and no social life to speak of
developed with a member of the opposite sex ) it
was difficult, given the circumstances of his
situation. 6ne morning Leo toiled up the stairs to his
room and stared out the window at the city.
-lthough the day was bright his view of it was dark.
For some time he watched the people in the street
below hurrying along and then turned with a heavy
heart to his little room. 6n the table was the packet.
.ith a sudden relentless gesture he tore it open. For
a half%hour he stood by the table in a state of
excitement, examining the photographs of the ladies
"al$man had included. Finally, with a deep sigh he
put them down. &here were six, of varying degree of
attractiveness, but look at them along enough and
they all became Lily 'irschorn4 all past their prime,
all starved behind bright smiles, not a true
personality in the lot. Life, despite their frantic
yoohooings, had passed them by; they were pictures
in a brief case that stank of fish. -fter a while,
however, as Leo attempted to return the
photographs into the envelope, he found in it
another, a snapshot of the type taken by a machine
for a !uarter. 'e ga$ed at it a moment and let out a
cry.
'er face deeply moved him. .hy, he could at first
not say. 2t gave him the impression of youth ) spring
flowers, yet age ) a sense of having been used to the
bone, wasted; this came from the eyes, which were
hauntingly familiar, yet absolutely strange. 'e had a
vivid impression that he had met her before, but try
as he might he could not place her although he could
almost recall her name, as he had read it in her own
handwriting. No, this couldn,t be; he would have
remembered her. 2t was not, he affirmed, that she
had an extraordinary beauty ) no, though her face
was attractive enough; it was that something about
her moved him. Feature for feature, even some of the
ladies of the photographs could do better; but she
lapsed forth to this heart ) had lived, or wanted to )
more than *ust wanted, perhaps regretted how she
had lived ) had somehow deeply suffered4 it could be
seen in the depths of those reluctant eyes, and from
the way the light enclosed and shone from her, and
within her, opening realms of possibility4 this was
her own. 'er he desired. 'is head ached and eyes
narrowed with the intensity of his ga$ing, then as if
an obscure fog had blown up in the mind, he
experienced fear of her and was aware that he had
received an impression, somehow, of evil. 'e
shuddered, saying softly, it is thus with us all. Leo
brewed some tea in a small pot and sat sipping it
without sugar, to calm himself. 7ut before he had
finished drinking, again with excitement he
examined the face and found it good4 good for Leo
Finkle. 6nly such a one could understand him and
help him seek whatever he was seeking. "he might,
perhaps, love him. 'ow she had happened to be
among the discards in "al$man,s barrel he could
never guess, but he knew he must urgently go find
her.
Leo rushed downstairs, grabbed up the 7ronx
telephone book, and searched for "al$man,s home
6
address. 'e was not listed, nor was his office.
Neither was he in the +anhattan book. 7ut Leo
remembered having written down the address on a
slip of paper after he had read "al$man,s
advertisement in the /personals1 column of the
Forward. 'e ran up to his room and tore through his
papers, without luck. 2t was exasperating. ust when
he needed the matchmaker he was nowhere to be
found. Fortunately Leo remembered to look in his
wallet. &here on a card he found his name written
and a 7ronx address. No phone number was listed,
the reason ) Leo now recalled ) he had originally
communicated with "al$man by letter. 'e got on his
coat, put a hat on over his skull cap and hurried to
the subway station. -ll the way to the far end of the
7ronx he sat on the edge of his seat. 'e was more
than once tempted to take out the picture and see if
the girl,s face was as he remembered it, but he
refrained, allowing the snapshot to remain in his
inside coat pocket, content to have her so close.
.hen the train pulled into the station he was waiting
at the door and bolted out. 'e !uickly located the
street "al$man had advertised.
&he building he sought was less than a block from
the subway, but it was not an office building, nor
even a loft, nor a store in which one could rent office
space. 2t was a very old tenement house. Leo found
"al$man,s name in pencil on a soiled tag under the
bell and climbed three dark flights to his apartment.
.hen he knocked, the door was opened by a think,
asthmatic, gray%haired woman in felt slippers.
/Yes01 she said, expecting nothing. "he listened
without listening. 'e could have sworn he had seen
her, too, before but knew it was an illusion.
/"al$man ) does he live here0 #inye "al$man,1 he
said, /the matchmaker01
"he stared at him a long minute. /6f course.1
'e felt embarrassed. /2s he in01
/No.1 'er mouth, thought left open, offered
nothing more.
/&he matter is urgent. (an you tell me where his
office is01
/2n the air.1 "he pointed upward.
/You mean he has no office01 Leo asked.
/2n his socks.1
'e peered into the apartment. 2t was sunless and
dingy, one large room divided by a half%open curtain,
beyond which he could see a sagging metal bed. &he
near side of the room was crowded with rickety
chairs, old bureaus, a three%legged table, racks of
cooking utensils, and all the apparatus of a kitchen.
7ut there was no sign of "al$man or his magic barrel,
probably also a figment of the imagination. -n odor
of frying fish made weak to the knees.
/.here is he01 he insisted. /2,ve got to see your
husband.1
-t length she answered, /"o who knows where he
is0 5very time he thinks a new thought he runs to a
different place. 9o home, he will find you.1
/&ell him Leo Finkle.1
"he gave no sign she had heard.
'e walked downstairs, depressed.
7ut "al$man, breathless, stood waiting at his door.
Leo was astounded and over*oyed. /'ow did you
get here before me01
/2 rushed.1
/(ome inside.1
&hey entered. Leo fixed tea, and a sardine
sandwich for "al$man. -s they were drinking he
reached behind him for the packet of pictures and
handed them to the marriage broker.
"al$man put down his glass and said expectantly,
/You found somebody you like01
/Not among these.1
&he marriage broker turned away.
/'ere is the one 2 want.1 Leo held forth the
snapshot.
"al$man slipped on his glasses and took the
picture into his trembling hand. 'e turned ghastly
and let out a groan.
/.hat,s the matter01 cried Leo.
/5xcuse me. .as an accident this picture. "he isn,t
for you01
"al$man frantically shoved the manila packet into
his portfolio. 'e thrust the snapshot into his pocket
and fled down the stairs.
Leo, after momentary paralysis, gave chase and
cornered the marriage broker in the vestibule. &he
landlady made hysterical out cries but neither of
them listened.
/9ive me back the picture, "al$man.1
/No.1 &he pain in his eyes was terrible.
/&ell me who she is then.1
/&his 2 can,t tell you. 5xcuse me.1
'e made to depart, but Leo, forgetting himself,
sei$ed the matchmaker by his tight coat and shook
him fren$iedly.
/#lease,1 sighed "al$man. /#lease.1
Leo ashamedly let him go. /&ell me who she is,1 he
begged. /2t,s very important to me to know.1
/"he is not for you. "he is a wild one ) wild,
without shame. &his is not a bride for a rabbi.1
/.hat do you mean wild01
/Like an animal. Like a dog. For her to be poor was
a sin. &his is why to me she is dead now.1
/2n 9od,s name, what do you mean01
/'er 2 can,t introduce to you,1 "al$man cried.
/.hy are you so excited01
/.hy, he asks,1 "al$man said, bursting into tear.
/&his is my baby, my "tella, she should burn in hell.1
Leo hurried up to bed and hid under the covers.
Under the covers he thought his life through.
-lthough he soon fell asleep he could not sleep her
out of his mind. 'e woke, beating his breast. &hough
he prayed to be rid of her, his prayers went
unanswered. &hrough days of torment he endlessly
struggled not to love her; fearing success, he escaped
it. 'e then concluded to convert her to goodness,
himself to 9od. &he idea alternately nauseated and
exalted him.
'e perhaps did not know that he had come to a
final decision until he encountered "al$man in a
7roadway cafeteria. 'e was sitting alone at a rear
table, sucking the bony remains of a fish. &he
marriage broker appeared haggard, and transparent
to the point of vanishing.
"al$man looked up at first without recogni$ing
him. Leo had grown a pointed beard and his eyes
were weighted with wisdom.
/"al$man,1 he said, /love has at last come to my
heart.1
7
/.ho can love from a picture01 mocked the
marriage broker.
/2t is not impossible.1
/2f you can love her, then you can love anybody.
Let me show you some new clients that they *ust sent
me their photographs. 6ne is a little doll.1
/ust her 2 want,1 Leo murmured.
/3on,t be a fool, doctor 3on,t bother with her.1
/#ut me in touch with her, "al$man,1 Leo said
humbly. /#erhaps 2 can be of service.1
"al$man had stopped eating and Leo understood
with emotion that it was now arranged.
Leaving the cafeteria, he was, however, afflicted by
a tormenting suspicion that "al$man had planned it
all to happen this way.
Leo was informed by better that she would meet
him on a certain corner, and she was there one
spring night, waiting under a street lamp. 'e
appeared carrying a small bou!uet of violets and
rosebuds. "tella stood by the lamp post, smoking.
"he wore white with red shoes, which fitted his
expectations, although in a troubled moment he had
imagined the dress red, and only the shoes white.
"he waited uneasily and shyly. From afar he saw that
her eyes ) clearly her father,s ) were filled with
desperate innocence. 'e pictured, in her, his own
redemption. <iolins and lit candles revolved in the
sky. Leo ran forward with flowers out%thrust.
-round the corner, "al$man, leaning against a
wall, chanted prayers for the dead.
=>?@
On The Magic Barrel
Introduction
7ernard +alamudAs short story, B&he +agic 7arrel,B
was first published in the Partisan Review in =>?C,
and reprinted in =>?@ in +alamudAs first volume of
short fiction. &his tale of a rabbinical studentAs
misadventures with a marriage broker was !uite well
received in the =>?Ds, and +alamudAs collection of
short stories,The Magic Barrel, won the National
7ook -ward for fiction in =>?>.
-s +alamud attained a reputation as a respected
novelist in the =>EDs and =>FDs, his short stories
were widely anthologi$ed and attracted considerable
attention from literary students and scholars.
- writer in the ewish%-merican tradition, +alamud
wrote stories that explore issues and themes central
to the ewish community. - love story with a
surprising outcome, B&he +agic 7arrelB traces a
young manAs struggle to come to terms with his
identity and poses the religious !uestion of how
peopleGews and othersG may come to love 9od. 2s
human love, the story asks, a necessary first step to
loving 9od0 +alamudAs B&he +agic 7arrelB is a story
remarkable for its economy, using *ust a few strokes
to create compelling and complex characters.
The Magic Barrel Summary | Detailed
Summary
6n a cold day in February, Leo Finkle, a HF%year%old
rabbinical student at New YorkAs Yeshivah
University, is sitting in his small apartment
regretting the fact that he decided to call in a
matchmaker to help him find a wife. 'owever,
Finkle knows that he needs to find a wife if he wants
to get an appointment as a rabbi after he graduates,
so he patiently waits for #inye "al$man to arrive and,
hopefully, arrange a suitable match for him.
#inye "al$man arrives and cuts a not displeasing
figure with his dignified air and wi$ened looks.
'owever, he is also missing teeth and he smells
distinctly of fish, which he eats constantly, so he is
not entirely pleasant either. 'owever, more
importantly, he carries a binder holding pictures of
eligible ewish women with him, and Finkle hopes
that it holds a woman for him.
&o explain himself, Finkle tells "al$man that he is a
student too wrapped up in his studies to have a
Corey Fischer and Max G. Moore star in Traelin!
"e#ish Theatre$s %roduction o& 2 x Malamud' The
"e#(ird ) The Ma!ic Barrel
*
proper social life and, but for his parents in
(leveland, he is !uite alone. &hus, with few female
prospects in his life, he has called in a marriage
broker, which Finkle considers a very honored
position in the ewish community, to make
Bpractical the necessary without hindering the *oy.B
IHJ "al$man, of course, is !uite pleased with the kind
words that Finkle offers him, and "al$man opens his
binder to offer pictures and descriptions of some
women that are looking to marry.
Unfortunately, Finkle looks at the pictures, hears
"al$manAs descriptions and decides that none of
these women is for him. 6ne is too old, one is a
widow, anotherAs father is a stomach specialist and
none of them really entices Finkle. 6f course,
"al$man argues and tells him that these are all fine
women who would make him very happy, but Finkle
disapproves of all of them and, in frustration, sends
"al$man away.
&he next day, Leo Finkle is pondering his decision
not to see any of the women that "al$man offered
and wonders whether he made the right choice.
'owever, "al$man appears at his door that very
same night and says that Lily 'irschorn, a KH%year%
old woman that he mentioned the previous day, is
actually only H> and, therefore, not too old for
Finkle. 6f course, Finkle is immediately suspicious
and suspects that "al$man is lying in order to make
him meet the woman, but Finkle decides to pay her a
visit anyway.
Leo Finkle and Lily 'irschornAs evening together is
unfortuntely, a disaster. Not only is Lily at least K?
years old, but also she seems to have an idea that
Finkle is some sort of eminently holy man who can
see into the mind of 9od. &hough Finkle is
comfortable with her at first, Lily turns the
conversation to FinkleAs studies with a clear
expectation that he will help her see into his
understanding of divine truths. 6bviously, "al$man
built up Finkle as some sort of mystic or prophet,
and Finkle cannot provide her with any of the
answers that she is looking for. 2n fact, when Lily
asks Finkle why he learned to love 9od, Finkle hears
himself say, B2 came to 9od not because 2 loved 'im,
but because 2 did not.B I=HJ &his is not the answer
Lily is looking for and the evening ends in
disappointment for both of them.
&he next day, Leo Finkle is furious at "al$man for
lying to both him and Lily. 'owever, the more Finkle
thinks about it, the more he reali$es that he is
furious at himself. -fter all, he should be able to
meet women on his own, but his complete inability
to have a real social life and his total ineptitude with
women has forced him to speak with a marriage
broker in order to find a wife. 'owever, the thing
that really angers Finkle is the reali$ation that he is
studying to be a rabbi because he does not love 9od,
which he only came to understand when he was
speaking with Lily 'irschorn. Furthermore, Finkle
has never loved anybody, except for his parents, and
no one has ever loved him. &hus, he finds himself
unloved, loveless and very, very lonely.
6ver the next two weeks, Finkle neglects his studies
and neglects to take care of his self as he begins to do
some serious soul%searching. &hough he considers
dropping out of the Yeshivah, he does finally
determine that he should continue his studies and
finish school, as planned. 'owever, he still needs to
find a wife, but he is not going to use "al$man to do
it for him.
&he night that Finkle decides he does not needs
"al$man, the matchmaker himself appears with a
new batch of photographs. 6f course, "al$man first
asks about Lily, but Finkle accuses "al$man of lying
to both him and Lily. "al$man apologi$es profusely
and offers explanations, but Finkle tells him that he
is in search of love, not a convenient marriage
partner. 6f course, "al$man offers him an envelope
of photos to look at, but Finkle wants nothing to do
with it. 'owever, before Finkle can give the photos
back to him, "al$man rushes out the door.
&he month turns to +arch and Finkle makes plans
to have a real social life so that he can fall in love.
'owever, it never materiali$es and Finkle reali$es
that he is simply not in a situation that allows him to
go out and meet women. -fter all, he is a poor
university student who studies diligently and he has
neither the time nor the funds to spend on evenings
out. &hus, as he comes to grips with his plight, he
opens "al$manAs envelope of pictures.
-s Finkle looks through the pictures, he reali$es that
there is nobody in there who interests him. &hey are
all tired old women who are past their prime, *ust
like Lily 'irschorn, and Finkle, frustrated, puts the
pictures back into the envelope. 'owever, as Finkle
puts the pictures back in, a small picture that he had
not noticed falls out.
.hen Finkle sees the picture, he reali$es that he has
found the woman he is looking for. "he is young,
beautiful and alive in a way that he cannot describe.
&hough she looks familiar, Finkle knows that he
would have remembered meeting such a woman
and, therefore, they must have never met. 'owever,
he knows that he must meet this mystery woman
and he immediately runs out to talk to "al$man.
.hen Finkle arrives at "al$manAs home, his wife
informs Finkle that her husband is out. 'owever,
Finkle leaves a message telling "al$man to come
over. &hen, surprisingly, "al$man is waiting at
FinkleAs door when he returns.
-fter Finkle provides "al$man with tea and a sardine
sandwich, he shows "al$man the picture and says
that he wants to meet that particular woman.
'owever, "al$man is shocked and refuses, though he
does not explain why at first. .hen Finkle presses
"al$man to let him meet the woman that "al$man
says that the picture is of his daughter "tella, and she
is dead to him and she should rot in hell.
-fter "al$man leaves, Finkle is so shocked by the
revelation that he hides in bed, trying to get "tella
+
out of his mind. Unfortunately, he cannot. For days,
he is tortured with longing for her, though he tries to
beat his feelings down and forget the image of the
woman he loves. 'owever, instead of destroying his
feelings, he decides that it is up to him to convert her
to goodness and bring her back to 9od. &hus, when
Finkle meets "al$man in a cafeteria in the 7ronx, he
convinces "al$man to arrange a meeting and let him
try to help "tella.
Finally, the night arrives that Finkle is to finally
meet "tella. &hey are to meet on a corner under a
streetlight and Finkle brings a bou!uet of flowers for
her. &hen, when Finkle sees her in person, he runs
toward this shy, yet confident woman that he has
loved since he saw her picture. 'owever, *ust around
the corner, #inye "al$man chants prayers for the
dead.
Characters
Leo Finkle
Leo Finkle has spent the last six years studying to
become a rabbi at New York,s Yeshivah University.
7ecause he believes that he will have a better chance
of getting employment with a congregation if he is
married, Leo consults a professional matchmaker.
Leo is a cold person; he comes to reali$e that /he did
not love 9od so well as he might, because he had not
loved man.1 .hen Finkle falls in love with "al$man,s
daughter, "tella, the rabbinical student must
confront his own emotional failings.
Lily Hirschorn
Lily 'irschorn is introduced to Leo Finkle, the
rabbinical student, by #inye "al$man, the
matchmaker. "he is a schoolteacher, comes from a
good family, converses on many topics, and Leo
considers her /not unpretty.1 2t soon becomes clear,
however, that the match between them will not
work.
Pinye Salzman
Leo consults #inye "al$man, who is a professional
matchmaker. "al$man is an elderly man who lives in
great poverty. 'e is unkempt in appearance and
smells of fish. .hile "al$man works to bring couples
together, Leo has reason to believe that the
matchmaker, or /commercial cupid,1 is occasionally
dishonest about the age and financial status of his
clients. "al$man seems greatly dismayed when Leo
falls in love with "tella. Yet Leo begins to suspect
that #inye, whom he thinks of as a /trickster,1 had
/planned it all to happen this way.1
Stella Salzman
"tella "al$man is the daughter of #inye "al$man, the
matchmaker. "al$man has disowned his daughter,
evidently because she has committed some grave act
of disobedience. .hen Leo, who has fallen in love
with "tella, asks her father where he might find her,
the matchmaker replies4 /"he is a wild one G wild,
without shame. &his is not a bride for a rabbi.1 .hen
he finally meets "tella she is smoking, leaning
against a lamp post in the classic stance of the
prostitute, but Leo believes he sees in her eyes /a
desperate innocence.1
Themes
Identity
+alamud,s Leo Finkle is a character trying to figure
out who he really is. 'aving spent the last six years
of his life deep in study for ordination as a rabbi, he
is an isolated and passionless man, disconnected
from human emotion. .hen Lily 'irschorn asks
him how he came to discover his calling as a rabbi,
Leo responds with embarrassment4 /2 am not a
talented religious person. . . . 2 think . . . that 2 came
to 9od, not because 2 loved him, but because 2 did
not.1 2n other words, Leo hopes that by becoming a
rabbi he might learn to love himself and the people
around him. Leo is in despair after his conversation
with Lily because /. . . he saw himself for the first
time as he truly was G unloved and loveless.1
-s he reali$es the truth about himself, he becomes
desperate to change. Leo determines to reform
himself and renew his life. Leo continues to search
for a bride, but without the matchmaker,s help4 /. . .
he regained his composure and some idea of purpose
in life4 to go on as planned. -lthough he was
imperfect, the ideal was not.1 &he ideal, in this case,
is love. Leo comes to believe that through love G the
love he feels when he first sees the photograph of
"tella "al$man G he may begin his life anew, and
forge an identity based on something more positive.
.hen at last he meets "tella he
/pictured, in her, his own redemption.1 &hat
redemption, the story,s ending leads us to hope, will
be Leo,s discovery through "tella of an identity based
on love.
God and Religion
(entral to +alamud,s /&he +agic 7arrel1 is the idea
that to love 9od, one must love man first. Finkle is
uncomfortable with Lily,s !uestions because they
make him reali$e /the true nature of his relationship
to 9od.1 'e comes to reali$e /that he did not love
9od as well as he might, because he had not loved
man.1 2n spite of the $eal with which he has pursued
his rabbinical studies, Leo,s approach to 9od, as the
narrative reveals, is one of cold, analytical
formalism. Unable fully to love 9od,s creatures, Leo
Finkle cannot fully love 9od.
6nce again, the agent of change in Leo,s life seems to
be "tella "al$man. &he text strongly implies that by
loving "tella, by believing in her, Leo will be able to
come to 9od. ust before his meeting with "tella,
Leo /concluded to convert her to goodness, him to
1,
9od.1 &o love "tella, it seems, will be Leo,s true
ordination, his true rite of passage to the love of 9od.
Toics !or Further Study
.hen did ewish people settle in large
numbers in New York (ity0 3escribe the
ewish communities in New York (ity or in
another large -merican city. 2n what way
can /&he +agic 7arrel1 be read as a story
about the descendants of immigrants0
2n chapter twenty of the 7ook of 5xodus in
the 7ible, +oses sets forth the &en
(ommandments to the 2sraelites. 3o the
characters in /&he +agic 7arrel1 follow the
(ommandments0 .hat does this say about
them0
.hat does the story suggest about the
relation between love and self%knowledge0
.hat must Leo Finkle learn about himself
before he is truly able to love0
Style
Point o! "ie#
#oint of view is a term that describes who tells a
story, or through whose eyes we see the events of a
narrative. &he point of view in +alamud,s /&he
+agic 7arrel1 is third person limited. 2n the third
person limited point of view, the narrator is not a
character in the story, but someone outside of it who
refers to the characters as /he,1 /she,1 and /they.1
&his outside narrator, however, is not omniscient,
but is limited to the perceptions of one of the
characters in the story. &he narrator of the story
views the events of the story through the eyes of Leo
Finkle even though it is not Leo telling the story.
Sym$olism
"ymbolism is a literary device that uses an action, a
person, a thing, or an image to stand for something
else. 2n +alamud,s /&he +agic 7arrel1 the coming of
spring plays an important symbolic role. &he story
begins in February, /when winter was on its last
legs,1 and ends /one spring night1 as Leo approaches
"tella "al$man under a street lamp. &he story,s
progression from winter to spring is an effective
symbol for the emotional rebirth that Leo undergoes
as he struggles to grow as a human being.
Idiom
2diom may be defined as a speciali$ed vocabulary
used by a particular group, or a manner of
expression peculiar to a given people. 2n other
words, different groups of people speak in different
ways. .hile the narrator and most of the characters
in /&he +agic 7arrel1 speak standard 5nglish, #inye
"al$man, the matchmaker, speaks Yiddish. .ritten
in 'ebrew characters and based on the grammar of
medieval 9erman, Yiddish was the common
language of many 5uropean ewish communities. -
8ussian ew at the turn of the century I+alamud,s
father, for exampleJ might read the &orah in
'ebrew, speak to his gentile neighbors in 8ussian,
and conduct the affairs of his business and
household in Yiddish.
"ince .orld .ar 22, Yiddish has become less
prevalent in 5urope and in the immigrant ewish
communities of North -merica. 2n another
generation, it may totally die out. +any of
+alamud,s characters, however, still use the idiom.
.hen "al$man asks Leo, /- glass tea you got,
rabbi01; when he exclaims, /what can 2 say to
somebody that he is not interested in school
teachers01; and when he laments, /&his is my baby,
my "tella, she should burn in hell,1 the reader hears
an idiomatic version of 5nglish seasoned with the
cadences of Yiddish speech.
Historical Conte%t
+alamud,s /&he +agic 7arrel1 was first published
by the Partisan Review in =>?C and reprinted as the
title story in +alamud,s first volume of short fiction
in =>?@. &he period between those two dates was an
eventful time in -merican history. 2n =>?C the
United "tates "upreme (ourt unanimously re*ected
the concept of segregation in the case of Brown v.
Board of Education, which found that the practice of
maintaining separate classrooms or separate schools
for black and white students was unconstitutional.
2n the same year "enator oseph +c(arthy was
censured by the "enate for having un*ustly accused
hundreds of -mericans of being communists. 2n
=>?F the "oviet Union launched "putnik, the first
satellite to successfully orbit the earth, sparking
concern that the "oviets would take control of space.
.hile the text of /&he +agic 7arrel1 is almost
entirely free of topical or historical references that
might allow readers to place the events of the story
at a particular date, one detail establishes Leo,s
encounter with "al$man as taking place roughly at
the time of the story,s publication in the mid%fifties.
Finkle is about to complete his six%year course of
study to become a rabbi at New York (ity,s Yeshivah
University. Yeshivah, in 'ebrew, means a place of
study. Yeshivah University is the oldest and most
distinguished ewish institution of higher learning
in the United "tates. .hile its history goes back to
=@@E, the school was not named Yeshivah until =>C?,
when its charter was revised. -t the end of the
traditional six years of study to become a rabbi, then,
Leo would probably be considering marriage
sometime early in the =>?Ds.
7y consulting a professional matchmaker to find a
bride, Leo is acting more like his immigrant
grandparents than an -merican ew of the =>?Ds. 2n
Yiddish, the secular language of many 5uropean and
-merican ewish communities, the word for
/matchmaker1 is shadchen Ipronounced shod%hunJ.
7efore the seventeenth century, the shadchen was a
highly respected person, responsible for the
11
perpetuation of the ewish people through arranged
marriages. -s 5uropean ewish communities grew
larger and as modern secular notions of romantic
love became pervasive, professional matchmakers
became less scrupulous in their dealings and were
fre!uently the ob*ects of satire and derision. 2ndeed
a wealth of humor at the expense of
the shadchen developed during the nineteenth and
twentieth centuries; representative is the remark of
the Yiddish writer "holom -leichem I=@?>%=>=EJ,
who !uipped that the shadchen was best defined as
/a dealer in livestock.1
8egardless, the shadchen tradition survived ewish
immigration to the United "tates. 2n his history of
ewish immigrant life on New York (ity,s lower east
side, World of our Fathers, 2rving 'owe describes
the typicalshadchen as similar to +alamud,s #inye
"al$man4 /-ffecting an ecclesiastic bearing, the
matchmaker wore a somber black suit with a half%
frock effect, a silk yarmule IskullcapJ, a full beard.1
&he matchmaker, according to 'owe, /customarily
received ? percent of the dowry in addition to a flat
fee, neither one nor both enough to make him rich.1
#inye "al$man is in many ways, then, a stereotypical
figure who has stepped from the world of ewish oral
humor into the pages of +alamud,s story. Leo, in
seeking the shadchen!s help in the =>?Ds, reveals
himself not only as a formal, but as a very old
fashioned young man.
Critical &'er'ie#
.hen +alamud,s /&he +agic 7arrel1 first appeared
in Partisan Review in =>?C, it provided a colorful
glimpse into the world of -merican ews. Fours
years later, after his second novel, The "ssistant, had
been enthusiastically received, +alamud reprinted
/&he +agic 7arrel1 as the title story in a collection of
his short fiction. &he collection sold well, and was
praised by reviewers for its honesty, irony, and acute
perception of the moral dilemmas of -merican ews.
2t won the National 7ook -ward for fiction in =>?>.
7etween the publication of the collection in =>?@ and
his death in =>@E, 7ernard +alamud became one of
-merica,s most respected writers of fiction,
publishing six more novels and numerous collections
of short fiction. +alamud,s writing has been the
sub*ect of critical debate for three decades. .riting
in =>EE, "idney 8ichman examines the emotional
sterility of the protagonist Leo Finkle. -ccording to
8ichman, /. . . Finkle knows the word but not the
spirit; and he makes it clear that in a secret part of
his heart he knows it.1
&heodore (. +iller, in =>FH, compares /&he +agic
7arrel1 to 'awthorne,s The #carlet $etter, pointing
out that both stories explore /the love of the minister
and the whore.1 Unlike 'awthorne,s minister,
-rthur 3immesdale, however, +alamud,s rabbinical
student, Finkle, /comes to accept "tella for the
reason that he accepts universal guilt.1 +iller also
contends that "al$man has arranged the love affair
between Leo and "tella because he wishes /to initiate
Leo Finkle into the existential nature of love.1 .hen
at the end of the story "al$man says %addish, the
traditional ewish prayer for the dead, he is
/commemorating the death of the old Leo who was
incapable of love. 7ut he is also celebrating Leo,s
birth into a new life.1
7oth 8ichard 8eynolds and 7ates 'offer offer
interpretations of /&he +agic 7arrel1 based on
specific ewish religious traditions. 8eynolds,s focus
is on the role of %addish, maintaining that "al$man
hopes that Leo will bring "tella, /the prodigal
daughter,1 back to a moral life. 2n that case, reciting
the %addish is particularly appropriate given the
ancient prayer,s emphasis on resurrection. 'offer
compares the five%part structure of the story to the
&orah Ithe first five books of the 6ld &estament, the
sacred text of udaismJ and claims that Leo has
broken a ma*ority of the ten commandments.
Finally (armen (ramer maintains that Leo,s story is
a *ourney of emotional maturity. 8ather, /&he +agic
7arrel1 chronicles the rabbinical student,s
/-mericani$ation,1 his gradual assimilation into
-merican culture. (ramer asserts that Finkle
/possesses few of the typical -merican traits G
decisiveness, emotionality, action%orientation G but
he melts into the -merican pot by the end of
7ernard +alamud,s polished piece of writing. . . .1
Comare ( Contrast
)*+,s- 3ecades of immigration from
5astern and .estern 5urope have led to a
considerable ewish population in the
United "tates. "trong and vibrant ewish
communities thrive in many -merican
cities. Yet discrimination against the ewish
people exists.
)**,s- &hrough intermarriage and
assimilation, many people in the ewish
community believe that ewish culture is
endangered. Unfortunately, discrimination
still exists in the United "tates, but many
groups fight misinformation and
discrimination against ews.
)*+,s- &he ewish matchmaker, also
known as the /shadchen,1 performs a vital
function within the community. -rranged
marriage, although losing popularity among
ewish families, is still a viable option for
young ewish men and women of age.
)**,s- +atchmaking is considered an
anti!uated tradition. 2t is mainly used in
orthodox ewish communities, as other
networking opportunities allow ewish men
and women to meet and find possible
marriage partners.
12
Criticism
Freud invoes the conce&t of reaction formation' a
thing consumed (or almost consumed) *y its o&&osite.
The third caset and the third daughter have *een
transformed into the &ri+es. Yet, says Freud, lead
seems dull as com&ared to gold and silver ,ust as
-ordelia lavishes no &raise on her father and then
dies. "ccording to Freud, her death.all death.is the
underlying wager of such inter&retive choices. To
return to its mythic origins, #haes&eare/s story
harens *ac to the *ifurcation of woman as the
goddess of love and the goddess of death. -ordelia
and that leaden caset a&&ear to *e what man
desires most' the unconditional love of a woman (his
mother), *ut they are *oth im*ued with the
destruction that mother earth *rings. -ordelia/s
death thus is not her own0 it is the dream image of
$ear/s own death0 1the silent 2oddess of 3eath, will
tae him into her arms.1
TH. TH.M. &F TH. THR.. C/S0.TS
I
&wo scenes from "hakespeare, one from a comedy and
the other from a tragedy, have lately given me occasion
for posing and solving a small problem.
&he first of these scenes is the suitorsA choice between
the three caskets in The Merchant of <enice. &he fair and
wise #ortia is bound at her fatherAs bidding to take as
her husband only that one of her suitors who chooses
the right casket from among the three before him. &he
three caskets are of gold, silver and lead4 the right
casket is the one that contains her portrait. &wo
suitors have already departed unsuccessful4 they have
chosen gold and silver. 7assanio, the third, decides in
favour of lead; thereby he wins the bride, whose
affection was already his before the trial of fortune.
5ach of the suitors gives reasons for his choice in a
speech in which he praises the metal he prefers and
depreciates the other two. &he most difficult task thus
falls to the share of the fortunate third suitor; what he
finds to say in glorification of lead as against gold and
silver is little and has a forced ring. 2f in psycho%analytic
practice we were confronted with such a speech, we
should suspect that there were concealed motives
behind the unsatisfying reasons produced.
"hakespeare did not himself invent this oracle of the
choice of a casket; he took it from a tale in the 9esra
fiomanorum,
=
in which a girl has to make the same
choice to win the 5mperorAs son.
H
'ere too the third
metal, lead, is the bringer of fortune. 2t is not hard to
guess that we have here an ancient theme, which
re!uires to be interpreted, accounted for and traced
back to its origin. - first con*ecture as to the meaning
of this choice between gold, silver and lead is !uickly
confirmed by a statement of "tuck%enAs,
K
who has made
a study of the same material over a wide field. 'e
writes4 B&he identity of #ortiaAs three suitors is clear
from their choice4 the #rince of +orocco chooses the
gold casketGhe is the sun; the #rince of -rragon
chooses the silver casketGhe is the moon; 7assanio
chooses the leaden casketGhe is the star youth.B 2n
support of this explanation he cites an episode from the
5sto nian folk%epic B:alewipoeg,B in which the three
suitors appear undisguisedly as the sun, moon and star
youths Ithe last being Bthe #ole%starAs eldest boyBJ and
once again the bride falls to the lot of the third.
&hus our little problem has led us to an astral mythL
&he only pity is that with this explanation we are not at
the end of the matter. &he !uestion is not exhausted,
for we do not share the belief of some investigators that
myths were read in the heavens and brought down to
earth; we are more inclined to *udge with 6tto 8ank
C
that they were pro*ected on to the heavens after having
arisen elsewhere under purely human conditions. 2t is
in this human content that our interest lies.
Let us look once more at our material. 2n the
5stonian epic, *ust as in the tale from the 2esta
8omanorum, the sub*ect is a girl choosing between the
three suitors; in the scene from The +erchant of <enice
the sub*ect is apparently the same, but at the same time
something appears in it that is in the nature of an
inversion of the theme4 a man chooses between threeG
caskets. 2f what we were concerned with were a dream, it
would occur to us at once that caskets are also
women, symbols of what is essential in woman, and
therefore of a woman herselfG like coffers, boxes, cases,
baskets, and so on.
?
2f we boldly assume that there are
symbolic substitutions of the same kind in myths as
well, then the casket scene in The +erchant of <enice
really becomes the inversion we suspected. .ith a
wave of the wand, as though we were in a fairy tale,
we have stripped the astral garment from our theme;
and now we see that the theme is a human one, a
manAs choice between three women.
&his same content, however, is to be found in another
scene of "hakespeareAs, in one of his most powerfully
moving dramas; not the choice of a bride this time, yet
linked by many hidden similarities to the choice of the
casket in &he +erchant of <enice. &he old :ing Lear
resolves to divide his kingdom while he is still alive
among his three daughters, in proportion to the amount
of love that each of them expresses for him. &he two elder
ones, 9oneril and 8egan, exhaust themselves in
asseverations and laudations of their love for him; the
third, (ordelia, refuses to do so. 'e should have
recogni$ed the unassuming, speechless love of his third
daughter and rewarded it, but he does not recogni$e
it. 'e disowns (ordelia, and divides the kingdom
between the other two, to his own and the general ruin.
2s not this once more the scene of a choice between
three women, of whom the youngest is the best, the most
excellent one0
&here will at once occur to us other scenes from
myths, fairy tales and literature, with the same
situation as their content. &he shepherd #aris has to
choose between three goddesses, of whom he declares
the third to be the most beautiful. (inderella, again, is a
youngest daughter, who is preferred by the prince to her
two elder sisters. #syche, in -puleiusAs story, is the
youngest and fairest of three sisters. #syche is, on the
one hand, revered as -phrodite in human form; on the
other, she is treated by that goddess as (inderella was
13
treated by her stepmother and is set the task of
sorting a heap of mixed seeds, which she accomplishes
with the help of small creatures Idoves in the case of
(inderella, ants in the case of #sycheJ.
E
-nyone who
cared to make a wider survey of the material would
undoubtedly discover other versions of the same theme
preserving the same essential features.
Let us be content with (ordelia, -phrodite, (inderella
and #syche. 2n all the stories the three women, of whom
the third is the most excellent one, must surely be
regarded as in some way alike if they are represented
as sisters. I.e must not be led astray by the fact that
LearAs choice is between three daughters; this may
mean nothing more than that he has to be represented
as an old man. -n old man cannot very well choose
between three women in any other way. &hus they
become his daughters.J
7ut who are these three sisters and why must the
choice fall on the third0 2f we could answer this !uestion,
we should be in possession of the interpretation we are
seeking. .e have once already made use of an
application of psycho%analytic techni!ue, when we
explained the three caskets symbolically as three
women. 2f we have the courage to proceed in the same
way, we shall be setting foot on a path which will lead
us first to something unexpected and
incomprehensible, but which will perhaps, by a
devious route, bring us to a goal.
2t must strike us that this excellent third woman has
in several instances certain peculiar !ualities besides
her beauty. &hey are !ualities that seem to be tending
towards some kind of unity; we must certainly not
expect to find them e!ually well marked in every
example. (ordelia makes herself unrecogni$able,
inconspicuous like lead, she remains dumb, she Bloves
and is silent.B
F
(inderella hides so that she cannot be
found. .e may perhaps be allowed to e!uate
concealment and dumbness. &hese would of course be
only two instances out of the five we have picked out.
7ut there is an intimation of the same thing to be
found, curiously enough, in two other cases. .e have
decided to compare (ordelia, with her obstinate
refusal, to lead. 2n 7assanioAs short speech while he
is choosing the casket, he says of lead Iwithout in any
way leading up to the remarkJ4
&hy paleness
@
moves me more than elo!uence.
&hat is to say4 B&hy plainness moves me more than the
blatant nature of the other two.B 9old and silver are
BloudB; lead is dumbG in fact like (ordelia, who
Bloves and is silent.B
>
2n the ancient 9reek accounts of the udgement of
#aris, nothing is said of any such reticence on the part
of -phrodite. 5ach of the three goddesses speaks to the
youth and tries to win him by promises. 7ut, oddly
enough, in a !uite modern handling of the same scene
this characteristic of the third one which has struck us
makes its appearance again. 2n the libretto of 6ffenbachAs
$a Belle 4elene, #aris, after telling of the solicitations of
the other two goddesses, describes -phroditeAs
behaviour in this competition tor the beauty%pri$e4
La troisieme, ah5 la troisieme . . .
$a troisieme ne dit rien.
5ie eut le prix tout de meme . . .
=D
2f we decide to regard the peculiarities of our Bthird
oneB as concentrated in her Bdumbness,B then psycho%
analysis will tell us that in dreams dumbness is a
common representation of death.
==
+ore than ten years ago a highly intelligent man told me
a dream which he wanted to use as evidence of the
telepathic nature of dreams. 2n it he saw an absent
friend from whom he had received no news for a very
long time, and reproached him energetically for his
silence. &he friend made no reply. 2t afterwards turned
out that he had met his death by suicide at about the
time of the dream. Let us leave the problem of telepathy
on one side4
=H
there seems, however, not to be any
doubt that here the dumbness in the dream
represented death. 'iding and being unfindableGa
thing which confronts the prince in the fairy tale of
(inderella three times, is another unmistakable
symbol of death in dreams; so, too, is a marked pallor,
of which the BpalenessB of the lead in one reading of
"hakespeareAs text is a reminder.
=K
2t would be very much
easier for us to transpose these interpretations from the
language of dreams to be mode of expression used in
the myth that is now under consideration if we could
make it seem probable that dumbness must be
interpreted as a sign of being dead in productions
other than dreams.
-t this point 2 will single out the ninth story in
9rimmAs Fairy Tales, which bears the title B&he
&welve 7rothers.B
=C
- king and a !ueen have twelve
children, all boys. &he king declares that if the
thirteenth child is a girl, the boys will have to die. 2n
expectation of her birth he has twelve coffins made. .ith
their motherAs help the twelve sons take refuge in a
hidden wood, and swear death to any girl they may
meet. - girl is born, grows up, and learns one day from
her mother that she has had twelve brothers. "he decides
to seek them out, and in the wood she finds the
youngest; he recogni$es her, but is anxious to hide her
on account of the brothersA oath. &he sister says4 B2
will gladly die, if by so doing 2 can save my twelve
brothers.B &he brothers welcome her affectionately,
however, and she stays with them and looks after their
house for them. 2n a little garden beside the house grow
twelve lilies. &he girl picks them and gives one to each
brother. -t that moment the brothers are changed into
ravens, and disappear, together with the house and
garden. I8avens are spirit%birds; the killing of the
twelve brothers by their sister is represented by the
picking of the flowers, *ust as it is at the beginning of the
story by the coffins and the disappearance of the
brothers.J &he girl, who is once more ready to save her
brothers from death, is now told that as a condition she
must be dumb for seven years, and not speak a single
word. "he submits to the test, which brings her herself
into mortal danger. "he herself, that is, dies for her
brothers, as she promised to do before she met them.
7y remaining dumb she succeeds at last in setting the
ravens free.
2n the story of B&he "ix "wansB
=?
the brothers who are
changed into birds are set free in exactly the same way
Gthey are restored to life by their sisterAs dumbness.
&he girl has made a firm resolve to free her brothers,
Beven if it should cost her her lifeB; and once again Ibeing
the wife of the kingJ she risks her own life because she
refuses to give up her dumbness in order to defend
herself against evil accusations.
14
2t would certainly be possible to collect further
evidence from fairy tales that dumbness is to be
understood as representing death. &hese indications
would lead us to conclude that the third one of the
sisters between whom the choice is made is a dead
woman. 7ut she may be something else as wellG
namely, 3eath itself, the 9oddess of 3eath. &hanks to a
displacement that is far from infre!uent, the !ualities
that a deity imparts to men are ascribed to the deity
himself. "uch a displacement will surprise us least of
all in relation to the 9oddess of 3eath, since in
modern versions and representations, which these
stories would thus be forestalling, 3eath itself is nothing
other than a dead man.
7ut if the third of the sisters is the 9oddess of 3eath,
the sisters are known to us. &hey are the Fates, the
+oerae, the #arcae or the Norns, the third of whom is
called -tropos, the inexorable.
22
.e will for the time being put aside the task of inserting
the interpretation that we have found into our myth,
and listen to what the mythologists have to teach us
about the role and origin of the Fates.
=E
&he earliest 9reek mythology Iin 'omerJ only knew a
single Mol&a, personifying inevitable fate. &he further
development of this one +oera into a company of three
Ior less often twoJ sister%goddesses probably came
about on the basis of other divine figures to which the
+oerae were closely relatedGthe 9races and the 'orae
Mthe "easonsN.
&he 'orae were originally goddesses of the waters of
the sky, dispensing rain and dew, and of the clouds
from which rain falls; and, since the clouds were
conceived of as something that has been spun, it came
about that these goddesses were looked upon as
spinners, an attribute that then became attached to the
+oerae. 2n the sun%favoured +editerranean lands it is
the rain on which the fertility of the soil depends, and
thus the 'orae became vegetation goddesses. &he
beauty of flowers and the abundance of fruit was their
doing, and they were accredited with a wealth of
agreeable and charming traits. &hey became the divine
representatives of the "easons, and it is possibly owing
to this connection that there were three of them, if the
sacred nature of the number three is not a sufficient
explanation. For the peoples of anti!uity at first
distinguished only three seasons4 winter, spring and
summer. -utumn was only added in late 9raeco%8oman
times, after which the 'orae were often represented in
art as four in number.
&he 'orae retained their relation to time. Later they
presided over the times of day, as they did at first over
the times of the year; and at last their name came to be
merely a designation of the hours Iheure, oraJ. &he
Norns of 9erman mythology are akin to the 'orae and
the +oerae and exhibit this time%signification in their
names.
=F
2t was inevitable, however, that a deeper view
should come to be taken of the essential nature of these
deities, and that their essence should be transposed
on to the regularity with which the seasons change.
&he 'orae thus became the guardians of natural law
and of the divine 6rder which causes the same thing to
recur in Nature in an unalterable se!uence.
&his discovery of Nature reacted on the conception of
human life. &he nature%myth changed into a human
myth4 the weather%goddesses became goddesses of Fate.
7ut this aspect of the 'orae found expression only in
the +oerae, who watch over the necessary ordering of
human life as inexorably as do the 'orae over the
regular order of nature. &he ineluctable severity of Law
and its relation to death and dissolution, which had been
avoided in the charming figures of the 'orae, were now
stamped upon the +oerae, as though men had only
perceived the full seriousness of natural law when they
had to submit their own selves to it.
&he names of the three spinners, too, have been
significantly explained by mythologists. Lachesis, the
name of the second, seems to denote Bthe accidental
that is included in the regularity of destinyB
=@
Gor, as we
should say, BexperienceB; *ust as -tropos stands for Bthe
ineluctableBG3eath. (lotho would then be left to mean
the innate disposition with its fateful implications.
7ut now it is time to return to the theme which we are
trying to interpretGthe theme of the choice between
three sisters. .e shall be deeply disappointed to
discover how unintelligible the situations under review
become and what contradictions of their apparent
content result, if we apply to them the interpretation
that we have found. 6n our supposition the third of the
sisters is the 9oddess of 3eath, 3eath itself. 7ut in the
udgement of #aris she is the 9oddess of Love, in the
tale of -puleius she is someone comparable to the
goddess for her beauty, in The Merchant of <enice she
is the fairest and wisest of women, in :ing Lear she
is the one loyal daughter. .e may ask whether there
can be a more complete contradiction. #erhaps,
improbable though it may seem, there is a still more
complete one lying close at hand. 2ndeed, there
certainly is; since, whenever our theme occurs, the
choice between the women is free, and yet it falls on
death. For, after all, no one chooses death, and it is
only by a fatality that one falls a victim to it.
'owever, contradictions of a certain kindG
replacements by the precise oppositeGoffer no
serious difficulty to the work of analytic interpretation.
.e shall not appeal here to the fact that contraries are
so often represented by one and the same element in
the modes of expression used by the unconscious, as
for instance in dreams.
=>
7ut we shall remember that
there are motive forces in mental life which bring about
replacement by the opposite in the form of what is known
as reaction%formation; and it is precisely in the
revelation of such hidden forces as these that we look for
the reward of this en!uiry. &he +oerae were created as a
result of a discovery that warned man that he too is a
part of nature and therefore sub*ect to the immutable
law of death. "omething in man was bound to struggle
against this sub*ection, for it is only with extreme
unwillingness that he gives up his claim to an
exceptional position. +an, as we know, makes use of his
imaginative activity in order to satisfy the wishes that
reality does not satisfy. "o his imagination rebelled
against the recognition of the truth embodied in the
myth of the +oerae, and constructed instead the myth
derived from it, in which the 9oddess of 3eath was
replaced by the 9oddess of Love and by what was
e!uivalent to her in human shape. &he third of the
sisters was no longer 3eath; she was the fairest, best,
15
most desirable and most lovable of women. Nor was
this substitution in any way technically difficult4 it was
prepared for by an ancient ambivalence, it was carried
out along a primaeval line of connection which could
not long have been forgotten. &he 9oddess of Love
herself, who now took the place of the 9oddess of 3eath,
had once been identical with her. 5ven the 9reek
-phrodite had not wholly relin!uished her connection
with the underworld, although she had long
surrendered her chthonic role to other divine figures,
to #ersephone, or to the tri%form -rtemis%'ecate. &he
great +other%goddesses of the oriental peoples,
however, all seem to have been both creators and
destroyersGboth goddesses of life and fertility and
goddesses of death. &hus the replacement by a wishful
opposite in our theme harks back to a primaeval
identity.
&he same consideration answers the !uestion how
the feature of a choice came into the myth of the three
sisters. 'ere again there has been a wishful reversal.
(hoice stands in the place of necessity, of destiny. 2n
this way man overcomes death, which he has recogni$ed
intellectually. No greater triumph of wish%fulfilment is
conceivable. - choice is made where in reality there is
obedience to a compulsion; and what is chosen is not a
figure of terror, but the fairest and most desirable of
women.
6n closer inspection we observe, to be sure, that the
original myth is not so thoroughly distorted that traces
of it do not show through and betray its presence. &he
free choice between the three sisters is, properly
speaking, no free choice, for it must necessarily fall
on the third if every kind of evil is not to come about,
as it does in :ing Lear. &he fairest and best of women,
who has taken the place of the 3eath%goddess, has kept
certain characteristics that border on the uncanny, so
that from them we have been able to guess at what lies
beneath.
HD
"o far we have been following out the myth and its
transformation, and it is to be hoped that we have
correctly indicated the hidden causes of the
transformation. .e may now turn our interest to the
way in which the dramatist has made use of the
theme. .e get an impression that a reduction of the
theme to the original myth is being carried out in his
work, so that we once more have a sense of the moving
significance which had been weakened by the
distortion. 2t is by means of this reduction of the
distortion, this partial return to the original, that the
dramatist achieves his more profound effect upon us.
&o avoid misunderstandings, 2 should like to say that
it is not my purpose to deny that :ing LearAs dramatic
story is intended to inculcate two wise lessons4 that
one should not give up oneAs possessions and rights
during oneAs lifetime, and that one must guard against
accepting flattery at its face value. &hese and similar
warnings are undoubtedly brought out by the play; but
it seems to me !uite impossible to explain the
overpowering effect of :ing Lear from the impression that
such a train of thought would produce, or to suppose
that the dramatistAs personal motives did not go beyond
the intention of teaching these lessons. 2t is suggested,
too, that his purpose was to present the tragedy of
ingratitude, the sting of which he may well have felt in
his own heart, and that the effect of the play rests on the
purely formal element of its artistic presentation; but
this cannot, so it seems to me, take the place of the
understanding brought to us by the explanation we
have reached of the theme of the choice between the
three sisters.
Lear is an old man. 2t is for this reason, as we have
already said, that the three sisters appear as his
daughters. &he relationship of a father to his children,
which might be a fruitful source of many dramatic
situations, is not turned to further account in the play.
7ut Lear is not only an old man4 he is a dying man. 2n
this way the extraordinary premiss of the division of
his inheritance loses all its strangeness. 7ut the
doomed man is not willing to renounce the love of
women; he insists on hearing how much he is loved.
Let us now recall the moving final scene, one of the
culminating points of tragedy in modern drama. Lear
carries (ordeliaAs dead body on to the stage. (ordelia
is 3eath. 2f we reverse the situation it becomes
intelligible and familiar to us. "he is the 3eath%goddess
who, like the <alkyrie in 9erman mythology, carries
away the dead hero from the battlefield. 5ternal
wisdom, clothed in the primaeval myth, bids the old
man renounce love, choose death and make friends
with the necessity of dying.
&he dramatist brings us nearer to the ancient theme
by representing the man who makes the choice
between the three sisters as aged and dying. &he
regressive revision which he has thus applied to the
myth, distorted as it was by wishful transformation,
allows us enough glimpses of its original meaning to
enable us perhaps to reach as well a superficial
allegorical interpretation of the three female figures in
the theme. .e might argue that what is represented
here are the three inevitable relations that a man has
with a womanGthe woman who bears him, the woman
who is his mate and the woman who destroys him; or
that they are the three forms taken by the figure of the
mother in the course of a manAs lifeGthe mother
herself, the beloved one who is chosen after her pattern,
and lastly the +other 5arth who receives him once
more. 7ut it is in vain that an old man yearns for the
love of woman as he had it first from his mother; the
third of the Fates alone, the silent 9oddess of 3eath,
will take him into her arms.
1&T.S
1. M- mediaeval collection of stories of unknown
authorship.NG&rans.
2. 7randes I=@>EJ.
3. "tucken I=>DF, E??J.
4. 8ank I=>D>, @ ff.J.
5. M"ee &he 2nterpretation of 3reams I=>DDaJ,
"tandard 5d., ?, K?C.NG&rans.
6. 2 have to thank 3r. 6tto 8ank for calling my
attention to these similarities. M(f. a reference to this
in (hapter O22 of 9roup Psychology I=>H=cJ,
"tandard 5d., =@,=KE.NG&rans.
7. MFrom an aside of (ordeliaAs, -ct 2, "cene =.NG
&rans.
*. B#lainnessB according to another reading.
+. 2n "chlegelAs translation this allusion is !uite
lost4 indeed, it is given the opposite meaning4 B3ein
16
schlichtes <<esen spricht beredt mich an.B MB&hy
plainness speaks to me with elo!uence.BNG&rans.
1,. MLiterally4 B&he third one, ahL the third one . . .
the third one said nothing. "he won the pri$e all the
same.BG&he !uotation is from -ct 2, "cene F, of
+eilhac and 'alevyAs libretto. 2n the 9erman version
used by Freud Bthe third oneB Bblieb
stummBGBremained dumb.BNG&rans.
11. 2n "tekelAs "prache des &raumes, too,
dumbness is mentioned among the BdeathB symbols
I=>==a, K?=J. M(f. The 2nterpretation of 3reams
I=>DDaJ, "tandard 5d., ?, K?F.NG &rans.
12. M(f. FreudAs later paper on B3reams and
&elepathyB I=>HHaJ.NG&rans.
13. "tekel I=>==aJ, loc. cit.
14. MB3ie $wolf 7riider.B 9rimm, =>=@, =, CH.NG
&rans.
15. MB3ie sechs "chwane.B 9rimm, =>=@, =, H=F
INo. C>J.NG&rans.
16. .hat follows is taken from 8oscherAs lexicon
M=@@C%=>KFN, under the relevant headings.
17. M&heir names may be rendered4 B.hat was,B
B.hat is,B B.hat shall be.BNG&rans.
1*. 8oscher Mibid.N, !uoting#reller, ed. 8obert
I=@>CJ.
1+. M(f. The 2nterpretation of 3reams I=>DDaJ,
"tandard Ed., C, K=@.NG&rans.
2,. &he #syche of -puleiusAs story has kept many
traits that remind us of her relation with death. 'er
wedding is celebrated like a funeral, she has to
descend into the underworld, and afterwards she
sinks into a deathlike sleep I6tto 8ankJ.G6n the
significance of #syche as goddess of the spring and
as B7ride of 3eath,B cf. Pin$ow I=@@=J.G2n another of
9rimmAs &ales IB&he 9oose%girl at the FountainB
MB3ie 9ansehirtin am 7runnen,B =>=@, H, KDDN, No.
=F>J there is, as in B(inderella,B an alternation
between the beautiful and the ugly aspect of the
third sister, in which one may no doubt see an
indication of her double natureGbefore and after the
substitution. &his third daughter is repudiated by
her father, after a test which is almost the same as
the one in :ing Lear. Like her sisters, she has to
declare how fond she is of their father, but can find
no expression for her love but a comparison with
salt. I:indly communicated by 3r. 'anns "achs.J
&n 2The Theme o! the Three Caskets2
2n B&he &heme of the &hree (askets,B "igmund
Freud presents a wealth of extremely complex
thoughts in *ust a few short pages. -t the beginning
are two scenes from "hakespeare, in which the
number three plays an essential role4 First, the
choice of three pretenders to #ortiaAs hand
between threemetal caskets in The Merchant of
6enice; and second, in %ing $ear the dying :ingAs
partition of his kingdom between
his three daughters, according to the love they show
for him. 2n both these two plots, the humblest thing
is shown to be the most precious4 plain lead on one
side, the mute love of (ordelia on the other.
-lthough Freud initially draws on "hakespeare as his
source for the choice between caskets; he ends up
relying on myths that deal with the choice a woman
must make between three pretenders, but which is
inverted Ias in the case of the choice between the
three caskets and in the logic of the dreamJ into the
choice a man makes between three caskets, that is,
three women.
&his leads Freud to evoke other scenes that turn on
the number three in myths, folklore and literature,
for instance constellations of three sisters where the
choice always fall upon the third one who is the most
uni!ue. Freud identifies this uni!ueness of the third
as her Bmuteness,B and then recalls how muteness in
psychic life is typically a representation of death. &he
third daughter, seen from this perspective, may be
viewed as 3eath, the 9oddess of 3eath. &he sisters
appear, conse!uently, as the three daughters of Fate
Gaccording to mythological tradition, the
three +oirai, #arcae, or Norns.
FreudAs detour through mythology makes the
goddesses of fate represent the inexorable Law of
Nature, and thus of the passing of time and the
ineluctability of death as well.
17
8eturning to the choice between three sisters, Freud
seeks to soften any resultant contradictions between
this detour through mythology and the specific
choice itself by reminding us that fantasy activity
typically inverts what is disagreeable into its
contrary. Fatality, the inexorability of death, is
transformed into a free choice. 2n%ing $ear the old
man appears at the end carrying the dead (ordelia in
his arms. Freud refers the powerful effect this
produces to the latent message transpiring behind
the manifest representation of the scene4 in fact it is
(ordelia, 9oddess of 3eath, who carries the dead
king off the battlefield.
-lthough a minor work, this magisterial essay
demonstrates concretely, even in its use of free
association, thefecundity of the analytical method
when applied to literature, myths, and folklore;
while at the same time illustrating the laws of
psychical functioning, such as the inversion of a wish
into its opposite.
2n a letter to "Qndor Ferenc$i dated uly >, =>=K,
Freud revealed that the Bsub*ective conditionB he
was in when writing this essay was occasioned by the
fact that his third child, -nna, was beginning to
occupy a very uni!ue place in his life.
Source Citation
Freud, "igmund. I=>=KfJ. 3as +otiv der
:Rstchenwahl. 7mago 8, H?F%HEE; 2W, 9:, HC%KF;
&he theme of the three caskets. #E, =H4 H>=%KD=.
Bi$liograhy
Freud, "igmund, and Ferenc$i, "Sndor I=>>H%HDDDJ.
&he correspondence of "igmund Freud and "Sndor
Ferenc$i. I5va 7rabant, 5rnst Fal$eder, and #atri$ia
9iampieri%3eutsch, 5ds.; #eter &. 'offer, &rans.J.;
(ambridge, +-4 7elknap #ress of 'arvard
University #ress.
Ben3amin Golu$o!!
2olu*off has taught English at $ae Forest -ollege
in $ae Forest, 7llinois. 7n the following essay, he
&laces the story within the conte;t of <ewish fiction
of the 9=>:s and focuses on the theme of
intergenerational relations.
/(onse!uently, Finkle,s transformed character
would suggest that, unlike their ancestors, the
younger generation is open to passion, to change,
and to new beginnings exempt from the influence of
tradition.1
#ublishing /&he +agic 7arrel1 in =>?C, 7ernard
+alamud was at the beginning of his career, and
near the beginning of a brief and remarkable period
in the history of ewish%-merican writing. For
perhaps a decade, from the mid%=>?Ds to the mid%
=>EDs, the -merican literary imagination seemed to
have been captured by a series of books by and about
ews. 2n =>?K "aul 7ellow published The "dventures
of "ugie March, a story of tragicomic misadventures
set in (hicago,s ewish immigrant milieu. 2n =>?F
+alamud brought out his second novel, The
"ssistant, the tale of an impoverished 7rooklyn
grocer who becomes a kind of ewish everyman.
=>?> saw the literary debut of #hilip 8oth,
whose 2ood*ye, -olum*us was the account of a
doomed love affair between two ewish young
people divided by social class.
2ood*ye -olum*us won the prestigious National
7ook -ward for fiction in =>ED, as 7ellow,s "ugie
March had done in =>?C, and as +alamud,s
collection of short stories, The Magic Barrel, had in
=>?>. 5!ually distinguished ewish%-merican
writers G such as Norman +ailer, oseph 'eller,
and (haim #otok G attracted attention on the
literary scene during these years as well.
&he novelists who made their reputations during this
time didn,t always have ewish concerns as the focus
of their fiction. "till, for a decade or so, +alamud,s
fiction seemed to be part of a movement of the
-merican novel toward the lives and problems of
ews. 6f course, ewish%-merican fiction was not
invented in the =>?Ds; novels by and about -merican
ews comprised a tradition of some significance and
depth by the time +alamud began his career. 2n one
important respect G in its theme of change and
conflict between generations G +alamud,s /&he
+agic 7arrel1 is solidly embedded in the tradition of
ewish%-merican fiction.
&he first important ewish%-merican novel was
+ary -ntin,s The Promised $and of =>=H. 7orn in
8ussian #oland, -ntin immigrated to 7oston as a
child in =@>C and became a social worker in the
immigrant neighborhoods of that city. The Promised
$and is based on -ntin,s own immigrant experience,
contrasting the poverty and persecution of ewish
life in 5astern 5urope with the freedom and
economic opportunity available to immigrants in the
United "tates.
&he vision of -merica is not so happy, however,
in The Rise of 3avid $evinsy by -braham (ahan
I=>=FJ. (ahan was a 8ussian immigrant who found
success in -merica as an editor and *ournalist. I'e
edited the The <ewish 3aily Forward, the Yiddish
newspaper in which Leo Finkle reads #inye
"al$man,s ad.J Like his creator, 3avid Levinsky
encounters an -merica where opportunity is
purchased at great sacrifice. -s 3avid rises in New
York,s garment industry, his success costs him love
and personal integrity. +ost of all, 3avid,s success
results in his betrayal of those ewish spiritual
traditions that had sustained his ancestors in 8ussia.
3avid ends the novel as a representative of an
immigrant generation that has lost the integrity of
its ancestors.
1*
&he theme of change and conflict among generations
appears powerfully in -n$ia Ye$ierska,s =>H?
novel Bread 2ivers. Ye$ierska,s novel dramati$es the
conflict between "ara "molinsky, a lively young
ewish woman, and her dictatorial father, a 8ussian
immigrant 8abbi. 8abbi "molinsky has devoted his
life to study of the &orah, and insists that his
daughters work to support him as he continues his
studies in -merica. "ara dreams of receiving a
secular -merican education and becoming a teacher,
but to do so she must defy the will of her father4
/+ore and more 2 began to see that father, in his
innocent cra$iness to hold up the Light of the Law to
his children, was a tyrant more terrible than the &sar
from 8ussia.1 "ara eventually reali$es her dream,
becoming a teacher in the New York #ublic "chools,
but only at the price of breaking off her relationship
with her father. .hen the two reconcile at the end of
the novel, it is because "ara has come to recogni$e
that the drive and will that allowed her to finish her
education came from her father.
-s Leo Finkle and #inye "al$man pursue each other
through the pages of +alamud,s /&he +agic 7arrel,1
the theme of generational conflict presents itself
with rich ambivalence. 2t,s as clear from his
profession G an arranger of marriages in the way
traditional to nineteenth%century 5uropean ewish
communities G as it is from his Yiddish%inflected
speech that #inye "al$man is the story,s
representative of an older generation of immigrant
ews. Leo Finkle, born in (leveland and bearing a
gentile given name, as clearly embodies a younger
population G perhaps those second% or third%
generation -merican ews who came to maturity in
the =>?Ds. .hat,s less clear, however, is with which
of the two generations the story encourages us to
empathi$e. .ho has moral authority in the story, old
"al$man or young Finkle0
2t is tempting to read the story as favoring youth,
especially in light of the emotional transformation
that Leo Finkle undergoes. Leo enters the story as a
cold and passionless young man. 'e re!uires a bride
not because he is in love, but because he is about to
be ordained as a rabbi and believes that he will find a
congregation more readily if he is married. Leo
praises "al$man,s profession with chilly formalism;
the matchmaker, he says, makes /practical the
necessary without hindering *oy.1 -fter his date with
Lily 'irschorn, Leo comes to recogni$e and deplore
his own passionlessness. #rompted by the
matchmaker, Lily had expected Finkle to be a man of
great human and spiritual fervor. Leo disappoints
her, of course, and sees /himself for the first time as
he truly was G unloved and loveless.1
2n the aftermath of this revelation, Leo appears to
change. 'e tells the matchmaker, /2 now admit the
necessity of premarital love. &hat is, 2 want to be in
love with the one 2 marry.1 "al$man,s reply to this
declaration seems to identify the matchmaker with
the older generation4 /TLove0, said "al$man,
astounded. -fter a moment he remarked, TFor us,
our love is our life, not for the ladies. 2n the ghetto
they G .,1 IFinkle interrupts here with more about
his new resolve to find love on his own.J 2n his
fragmentary response "al$man seems to say that for
the older generation G those who had lived in the
ewish ghettoes of 5urope G romantic love was a
frivolous luxury. "urvival was what mattered I/our
life1J, not /the ladies.1 .ith that remark, "al$man
appears to inhabit a past whose dangers are no
longer real to any but himself.
Finkle,s transformation is complete when he falls in
love with the photograph of "al$man,s daughter,
"tella, left accidentally among pictures of the
matchmaker,s other clients. Loving this fallen
woman, and loving her only on the basis of her
photograph, is *ust the passionate leap of faith of
which Leo has been previously incapable. 'is eyes
now /weighted with wisdom,1 Leo has learned at last
the redemptive nature of passion.
6ld "al$man, however, is more inflexibly than ever
rooted in tradition. 'e considers his daughter dead
because of her mysterious sin, and even Finkle,s
newfound passion for her can,t restore "tella to the
living in her father,s eyes. 2n the story,s mysterious
final section, Finkle rushes to "tella with a bou!uet
of flowers while4 /-round the comer, "al$man,
leaning against a wall, chanted prayers for the dead.1
2f we interpret "al$man,s %addish G the traditional
ewish prayer for the dead G as being for his
daughter, then as representative of the older
generation "al$man is so committed to tradition that
he sees only death where life had *ust begun.
(onse!uently, Finkle,s transformed character would
suggest that, unlike their ancestors, the younger
generation is open to passion, to change, and to new
beginnings exempt from the influence of tradition.
6ne problem with this interpretation is that the
story more than once suggests that Finkle,s sudden
passion for "tella might not have been an accident,
that it might have been planned by the wily "al$man.
Finkle suspects that the old man is capable of
intrigue. -s he walks with Lily 'irschorn, Finkle
senses "al$man /to be somewhere around, hiding
perhaps high in a tree along the street, flashing the
lady signals with a pocket mirror. . . .1 ust before
the story,s conclusion, when "al$man has finally
agreed to let Finkle meet "tella, Leo is suddenly
/afflicted by a tormenting suspicion that "al$man
had planned it all to happen this way.1 2f Leo,s
meeting with "tella is part of the matchmaker,s plan,
then we would have to attribute to him, and to the
older generation he represents, a knowledge of
human frailty and passion superior to that of the
formalistic rabbinical student.
.hat, then, do we make of the "al$man,s
saying %addish at the story,s conclusion0 2f his plan
has been all along to educate Leo in the necessity of
passion, then it would be inconsistent with that plan
for "al$man to mourn *ust when he has succeeded in
bringing the lovers together. (ritic &heodore (.
+iller has suggested a persuasive way out of this
dilemma4 /. . . if "al$man has planned the whole
episode, then the matchmaker through
1+
his %addish is commemorating the death of the old
Leo who was incapable of love. 7ut he is also
celebrating Leo,s birth into a new life.1 <iewed in
this way, the matchmaker,s prayer of mourning
celebrates the success of his plan for Leo and "tella,
the ?Yiddishe inder@ Iewish childrenJ.
7ecause +alamud,s /&he +agic 7arrel1 is a work of
art and not a sociological study of inter%generational
relations, it must remain a matter of interpretation
whether the story privileges the older or younger
generation. 7ecause its central interpretive !uestion
involves this *udgment between two generations,
however, /&he +agic 7arrel1 is a story solidly
grounded in the tradition of ewish%-merican
fiction.
Source- 7en*amin 9oluboff, /6verview of T&he
+agic 7arrel,1, for #hort #tories for #tudents, &he
9ale 9roup, HDDD.
Malamud4s 5nmagic Barrel
$y Gary Sloan
#inye "al$man, the impoverished marriage broker
in 7ernard +alamud,s popular story /&he +agic
7arrel,1 is usually perceived as an insoluble mixture
of the preternatural and the prosaic, ethereal mentor
and plebeian hustler. 'e is /a shaman and a savant,
a prophet and a procurer at the same time1 I9unn
@KJ, /half criminal, half messenger of 9od1
I8ichman ==>J. 'e exists in the realm of /sheer
fantasy1 and /in the earthy sphere of gefilte fish,
dingy tenements, and 7roadway cafeterias1
I8eynolds =D=J. 'e possesses in e!ual measure the
human and /the magical characteristics1 of the god
#an I"torey =@DJ. 'e appears /now as a human
being, now as possessed of supernatural powers, but
never indubitably either1 I3essner, /8evisions1
H?KJ. 'e is /scheming pimp1 and /holy spirit, placed
on earth to bring Leo Finkle from an arid knowledge
of the law to the perception that he can fulfill the
spirit of the law only by loving in this world1
I"olotaroff KEJ. 'e is the archetypal /&rickster who
symboli$es the instinctual and irrational, driven by
the basic needs of sex and hunger1 I+ay >CJ.
+arcus :lein removes him from the human sphere
altogether4 he is /either a magician or a demon1 and
/exists outside all ordinary determinations1 IHF>J.
:lein,s proposition works better inverted4 "al$man
exists entirely within ordinary determinations.
5verything he does is explicable in naturalistic
terms. &hus approached, the story becomes more
dramatic and ingenious. &he /happy1 ending is no
longer assured in advance by elfin sorcery4 celestial
ingenuity yields to the human variety. "al$man,s
/magical powers,1 like the /magic1 in the barrel,
vanish whence they came4 Finkle,s /distracted
globe.1 - naturalistic interpretation is consistent
with +alamud,s authorial creed4 /2 would never,1 he
said in a rare interview, /deliberately flatten a
character to create a stereotype.... +ost of all 2,m
out to create real and passionate human beings1
IField and Field =EJ.I=J
&he story can be profitably read along the following
lines. 5ven before he meets Finkle, on the basis of
what the student /revealed of himself in a
curriculum vitae1 I+alamud =>?J, the broker
contemplates a marriage between his daughter,
"tella, and the new client.IHJ -fter he meets the
student, the intention solidifies. "al$man /heartily
approved of Finkle1 I=>CJ and /let out a so,
contented sigh1 I=>?J. -s /commercial (upid,1
"al$man hopes to do to Finkle what 5ros does to the
lovelorn in +edieval and 8enaissance emblems4 put
a hood over his head IhoodwinkJ. 2f his stratagem
works, he will in one swoop /save1 his daughter and
elevate his own social status. From the outset,
"al$man envisions Finkle as son%in%law, persistently
calling him /rabbi1Gtrying the respected epithet on
for si$eGand assuming a proprietary air. &o preserve
an appearance of occupational integrity and, more
importantly, to buy time to sound his prey, the
broker masks, consummately as it turns out, his
predatory intent.
"al$man,s comments about his clients disclose his
hidden intent. &he remarks are rife with double
entendres and subtexts. 'is thespian skills, lavishly
on parade throughout the story, are foretold4 /6n the
mother,s side comes... one actor1 I=>EJ. -round
Finkle, he is always on4 he /ad*usted his horn%
rimmed spectacles, gently cleared his throat and
read in an eager voice... .1 'e can under% as well as
overact. .hen Finkle spurns "ophie #., as "al$man
secretly wishes, the broker /hunched his shoulders
in an almost imperceptible gesture of
disappointment1 I=>EJ. 8ather than betoken
wi$ardly locomotion, as some have thought, his
sudden entrances and exits have a patented
theatrical !uality. 'is motives, too, are of ordinary
provenance. Like 8uth :.,s parents, he and his wife
are /particular people1 I=>FJ when it comes to a son%
in%lay. &hey are /interested in a professional man,1
and in his anxiety to reel Finkle in, "al$man has
become, a la 8uth :.,s father, a specialist in stomach
disorders I=>FJ. 2f the broker can land his catch, his
daughter /will be thankful for the rest of her life1
I=>EJ. 2n another passage ostensibly about 8uth :.,
"al$man obli!uely reveals why he is playing
matchmaker for his daughter. /.e1 may be glossed
as "al$man and his wife4
2,
'e M8uth,s fatherN wants she should have the best, so
he looks around himself. .hen we will locate the
right boy he will introduce him and encourage. &his
makes a better marriage than if a young girl without
experience takes for herself. I=>@J
.hen a /curiously bitter1 Finkle re*ects 8uth :. out
of hand, a sullen "al$man imagines himself father%
in%law non grata.
Finally, he MFinkleN shook his head.
/.hy not1 "al$man persisted, the pitch of his voice
rising.
/7ecause 2 detest stomach specialists.1
/"o what do you care what is his business -fter you
marry her do you need him .ho says he must come
every Friday night in our house01 I=>>J
&o net the slippery student, "al$man must do two
things4 I=J insure that Finkle is disenchanted with
the regular clients, and IHJ correctly package "tella.
&he first task is easily discharged. 3estitute of magic
powers, the broker has been unable to ward off the
inexorable incursion of modernity. &he
matchmaking institution, like /the much%handled
cards1 I=>CJ, has become superannuated. 3esirable
prospects now fend for themselves. 'ence, the
broker is poor and ill%fed, lives in /a very old
tenement house1 IH=DJ, and constantly rushes, a
hapless luftmensch trying to drum up business.
.hen Finkle /remarked that the function of the
marriage broker was ancient and honorable1 and
that his own parents, /brought together by a
matchmaker,1 had had a successful marriage,
"al$man, machinations already afoot, /listened in
embarrassed surprise1 I=>CJ. Finkle,s respect seems
to "al$man as anti!uated as the institution the
broker represents IFinkle later admits he does not
really care for it M=>>NJ. &he praise nevertheless
rekindles an extinguished idealism4 "al$man
/experienced a glow of pride in his work, an emotion
that had left him years ago1 I=>CJ. "tella and Finkle
are, as "al$man might say to his wife, /two fine
people that they would be wonderful to be married1
IHDFJ.
5ven at the first meeting, "al$man gets an inkling of
the guise in which "tella must eventually appear.
.ith H? years in the business, he readily discerns
where Finkle,s chief interest lies. Notwithstanding
the /scholar,s nose1 and /ascetic lips1 I=>?J, the
sheltered student seeks a decidedly sublunary love.
'e wants a wide field from which to choose4 /"o
few,1 he asks when he sees "al$man holding but six
cards I=>?J. 'is second !uestion is, /3o you keep
photographs of your clients on file,1 I=>?J. 'e has
an eye out for someone young, fresh, and sexy, but
not too intimidating.IKJ Understandably, he
/flushes,1 twice, when "al$man asks what interests
him I=>@, HD=J. "ophie #., a HC%year%old widow, does
not pass muster. "he is damaged goods. &hough he
will finally agree to meet Lily '., she hasn,t a chance
either4 she is neither young nor libidinous, and has a
discomfiting idee fixe on holy men. &he =>%year%old,
/pretty1 Ior so "al$man saysJ 8uth :. fails to meet
the exacting specifications because /she is a little
lame on the right foot1 I=>@J. Finkle wants a perfect
ten.
Finkle,s finicky standards constitute a daunting
challenge for the matchmaker. 7ruised, not
beautified by poverty IHD@J, "tella,s only kinship
with (inderella is the phonic one. Finkle needs a *olt
Glest, caught, he prove not worth the catching. &he
proximate agent of shock will be Lily 'irschorn,
votary Ias "al$man well knowsJ of the caricaturally
devout. #rimed for her /man enamored of 9od1
IHDKJ, a /semi%mystical .onder 8abbi1 IHDEJ, Lily
will function as gadfly, albeit an unwitting one. 'er
balked expectations, "al$man hopes, will induce in
Finkle a guilty conscience. 8ightly plumbed, he
might lower his standards a bit.
-t his second meeting with Finkle, "al$man again
shows no trace of shamanic disposition. 'is anxiety
is unfeigned. 'e is an all%too%mortal schemer in
extremis4 /'is face was gray and meager, his
expression hungry, and he looked as if he would
expire on his feet.1 'is histrionic faculty taxed, he
manages, /by some trick of the muscles, to display a
broad smile1 I=>>J. 7y upping the anteGLily is not
only wealthy, stylish, and cultivated, he tells Finkle,
but, like him, partikiler IHDHJG"al$man at last
mediates a rende$vous.
.hen he next sees Finkle, a week later and
subse!uent to the rende$vous, the harried broker is
/a skeleton with haunted eyes1 IHDEJ. -gain, he
shows not a sign of sorcerous clairvoyance. 'e is
painfully ignorant of the status of his gambit. 'e
stalwartly feigns a nonchalant attitude4
(asually coughing, "al$man came immediately to
the point4 /"o how did you like her01
Leo,s anger rose and he could not refrain from
chiding the matchmaker4 /.hy did you lie to me,
"al$man01
"al$man,s pale face went dead white, the world had
snowed o him.IHDEJ
For a perilous moment, "al$man thinks he has been
hoisted on his own petard, hence the apoplectic
reaction. .hen he reali$es Finkle is alluding to Lily,
not "tella, he reclaims his histrionic flair and, with
glib avowals of innocence, smoothly parries the
accusations. Finkle is still son%in%law designate4
/&he marriage broker fastened hungry eyes on him1
IHDFJ. "ince Finkle /is no longer interested in an
arranged marriage1 IHDFJ, "al$man must pin his
hopes on the cheap snapshot of "tella. 2n a field of
wilting lilies, "tella may flourish.
.hen, unable to fend for himself, Finkle turns in last
resort to the pictures the broker has left, he sees
21
women /all past their prime, all starved behind
bright smiles, not a true personality in the lot. Life,
despite their yoohooings, had passed them by1
IHD@J. 2n them, perhaps, he glimpses his own
future. &hen, he beholds "tella, vibrant youth in a
moribund gallery. 2n his glandular, revved%up
imagination, she smacks of earthy sensuality and
forbidden fruitGowing in part, one surmises, to a
lascivious mien coached by her father. Finkle
/received an impression, somehow of evil1 IHD>JGin
the original version, /filth1 I3essner, T8evisions1
H?>J.ICJ Later, like ehovah marveling at his own
creation, /he examined the face and found it good.1
"he alone /could understand him and help him seek
whatever he was seeking1 IHD>J. .hat he seeks is
sexual gratification, but he remains, consciously at
least, ignorant of the need. 2n this respect, "al$man
Ias well as the readerJ is well ahead of him.
.hen Finkle, via +rs. "al$man, summons the
marriage broker, "al$man has long been on
tenterhooks, the outcome of his ploy in limbo.
-drenalin pumping, he arrives breathless, having,
he says, /rushed1 IH==J. .hen Finkle flashes the
snapshot of "tella and e*aculates, /'ere is the one 2
want1 IH==J, "al$man puts on, as one might say, a
stellar performance4 he /slipped on his glasses and
took the picture into his trembling hand. 'e turned
ghastly and let out a groan1 IH==%=HJ. :nowing that
Finkle bridles at the hard sale, "al$man now refuses
to sell. &he scene is unabashed burles!ue, even to a
chase and a hysterical woman, with "al$man now
the masterful human impresario. "low on the
uptake, Finkle does not immediately grasp that
"tella is Isupposed to beJ a sexual dynamo.
"al$man,s metaphorical inventiveness is sorely
tasked4
/"he is not for you. "he is a wild one%wild, without
shame. &his is not a bride for a rabbi.1
/.hat do you mean wild01
/Like an animal. Like a dog. For her to be poor was a
sin. &his is why to me she is dead now.1
/2n 9od,s name, what do you mean01
/'er 2 can,t introduce to you,1 "al$man cried.
/.hy are you so excited01
/.hy, he asks,1 "al$man said, bursting into tears.
/&his is my baby, my "tella, she should burn in
hell.1 IH=HJ
"al$man is excited because his ploy is working. 'e
has wrapped "tella in the perfect garb. 2n Finkle,s
subconscious, the unholy litany of /sin,1 /hell,1
/wild,1 and /animal1 reverberates with aphrodisiac
potency. .ith her /impression of youth1 and /spring
flowers1 IHD@J, "tella embodies, or so Finkle thinks,
his oxymoronic dream girl4 the perpetually virginal
painted woman. Later, when he sees her under the
street lamp, he imagines /in a troubled moment1
she has on a red dress instead of a white one.
(onsciously, he has adopted the role of savior. -n
unabashed slut might be hard /to convert...to
goodness1 IH=KJ. &he virginal white assuages his
austere conscience.
From start to finish, the story is firmly situated on
the rock of human passion, foible, and aspiration.
"al$man,s lot is not without pathos. 7y contrast,
+alamud,s treatment of Finkle is unremittingly
comicI?J Finkle,s condition is throughout
reminiscent of 7yron,s pubescent 3on uan,
befuddled by his sexual awakening4 /Now we,ll turn
to uan. U #oor little fellowL he had no idea U 6f his
own case, and never hit the true one1 I3on uan,
(anto the First, stan$a @EJ.
&he narrator,s diction is occasionally impish4 Finkle
watches /with half open mouth1 as the moon
/penetrates1 a hen%like cloud before dropping out
like an egg I=>?J. &he student is at last /aroused1 by
fantasies of Lily '. and walks /erectly1 to meet her,
discreetly, however, resisting the urge to /use1 his
phallic walking stick IHDHJ. Later, he solemnly tells
"al$man4 /2 am no longer interested in an arranged
marriage. &o be frank, 2 now admit the necessity of
premarital love.1 5mbarrassed by the Freudian slip
Gthe euphemism for premarital sexGhe !uickly
emends4 /&hat is, 2 want to be in love with the one 2
marry1 IHDFJ. &he last we see of Finkle he is rushing
toward "tella with flowers /outthrust1 IH=CJ. &he
climactically placed verb could hardly be better.
For some readers, "tella is even more problematic
than her father. Lionel &rilling remarked that one
need not believe /"tella is what her father makes her
out to beGpossibly her sexual life is marked merely
by a freedom of the kind that now morality scarcely
reproves1 I=FKJ. -ctually, one need not suppose
"tella has any sexual experience at all. 2n the final
vignette, her eyes are full of /desperate innocence,1
and she awaits Finkle /uneasily1 and /shyly.1 &he
cigarette and red pumps can be glossed as her
thespian father,s contributions, part of the
packaging. &his might be "tella,s first date.
2n the final, often discussed sentence, "al$man,
concealed chaperone, /chanted prayers for the
dead.1 &he dead are "tella "al$man and Leo Finkle.
IEJ &he tone is ambivalent. &hough pleased to have
landed his /professional man,1 "al$man knows that
marriage can be lethal to romantic illusions. 5arlier,
when Finkle opines that 8uth :. /believes in love,1
"al$man can barely suppress a guffaw I=>@J. Finkle,s
/love,1 he long ago deduced, is 2ago,s /sect or scion
of lust.1 :nowing marriage demands sterner stuff,
"al$man, pious ew, naturally seeks the aid of higher
powers, having none of his own.
1&T.S
=. -sked whether he read criticism of his own works,
+alamud replied4 /2 like imaginative interpretations
of my books, whether 2 agree with them or not. 2
en*oy criticism that views the work in ways 2 haven,t
anticipatedGthat surprises me1 I=?J.
22
H. .hile several readers echo Finkle,s suspicion that
"al$man /planned it all to happen that way1 IH=KJ,
they believe the plan begins only with the placement
of "tella,s picture in the envelope. - few believe it
begins earlier, but they adduce the fact as further
evidence of "al$man,s supernatural powers of
ordination I"ee "torey =@D; +ay >?%>E; 6chshorn
E=%EHJ. Finkle,s suspicion may be +alamud,s way of
alerting readers to his own narrative strategy.
K. "torey, +ay, and 3essner I/#layfulness1J have all
commented on the sexual dimension. 2t seems to me
they do not go far enough.
C. &he story was first published in =>?C in The
Parisan Review and later revised for the =>?@
collection The Magic Barrel. In Revisions,
Dessner lists all the differences,
most of them minor, between the
versions.
5. In the course of the story, Finkle
does not learn as much about himself
as he thinks. Even as he chides
himself for eoism, he wants love to
come to him !"#$%, &tella to hel'
him, to find in her his own
redem'tion !"#(, ")*+ italics added%.
,hen Finkle 'lumes himself on his new
self-awareness, the narrative voice is
distantly wry, the mode comic. /ever
in the Five 0ooks and all the
1ommentaries2mea cul'a2had the truth
been revealed to him.... 345e drew the
consolation that he was a 6ew and
that a 6ew suffered !"#5%. 7erha's
with this new knowlede of himself he
would be more successful than in the
'ast !"#$%. 4e had rown a 'ointed
beard and his eyes were weihted with
wisdom !")8%. 9fter &al:man
scandali:es &tella, the treatment of
Finkle is 'ure sla'stick.
;eo hurried u' to bed and hid under
the covers. <nder the covers he
thouht his life throuh. 9lthouh he
soon fell aslee' he could not slee'
her out of his mind. 4e woke, beatin
his breast. =houh he 'rayed to be
rid of her, his 'rayers went
unanswered. =hrouh days of torment he
endlessly struled not to love her+
fearin success, he esca'ed it. !")8%
$. &al:man>s 'revious a''lication of
the word to &tella !to me she is
dead now>% has been often noted. =he
word is also a''lied earlier to
Finkle. =he devout imae ;ily has of
him has no relation, the narrator
re'orts, to the livin or dead
Finkle !"#*%.
6&R0S CIT.7
3essner, Lawrence. /+alamud,s 8evisions to T&he
+agic 7arrel.,/ (riti!ue4 "tudies in
(ontemporary Fiction KD I=>@>J4 H?H%ED.
G. /&he #layfulness of 7ernard +alamud,s T&he
+agic 7arrel.,/ 5ssays in Literature =? I=>@@J4
@F%=D=.
Field, Leslie and oyce. T-n 2nterview with 7ernard
+alamud.1 7ernard +alamud4 - (ollection of
(ritical 5ssays. 5d. Leslie and oyce Field.
5nglewood (liffs, N4 #rentice%'all, =>F?. @%=F.
9unn, 9iles 7. /7ernard +alamud and the 'igh (ost
of Living.1 -dversity and 9race4 "tudies in
8ecent -merican Literature. 5d. Nathan -. "cott.
(hicago4 U of (hicago #, =>E@. ?>%@?.
:lein, +arcus. -fter -lienation. (leveland4 .orld,
=>EC.
+alamud, 7ernard. &he +agic 7arrel. New York4
Farrar, =>?@.
+ay, (harles 5. /"omething Fishy in T&he +agic
7arrel.,/ "tudies in -merican Fiction =C I=>@EJ4
>K%>@.
6chshorn, :athleen 9. &he 'eart,s 5ssential
Landscape4 7ernard +alamud,s 'ero. -merican
University "tudies HC. New York4 #eter Lang,
=>>D.
8eynolds, 8ichard. /T&he +agic 7arrel,4 #inye
"al$man,s :adish.1 "tudies in "hort Fiction =D
I=>FKJ4 =DD%DH.
8ichman, "idney. 7ernard +alamud. New York4
&wayne, =>EE.
"olotaroff, 8obert. 7ernard +alamud4 - "tudy of the
"hort Fiction. 7oston4 &wayne, =>@>.
"torey, +ichael L. /#inye "al$man, #an and T&he
+agic 7arrel.,/ "tudies in "hort Fiction =@
I=>@=J4 =@D%@K
&rilling, Lionel. #refacer to the 5xperience of
Literature. New York4 'arcourt, =>F>.
#tudies in #hort Fiction . /ewberry. ,inter
)((5. ?ol. 8" , Iss. )+ '. 5)
I&&/@I&0/. ##8(8AB( 1o'yriht
/ewberry 1ollee ,inter )((5
Biograhy
7ernard +alamud I=>=C%=>@EJ is considered
one of the most prominent figures in ewish%
-merican literature, a movement that originated in
the =>KDs and is known for its tragicomic elements.
+alamudAs stories and novels, in which
reality and fantasy are fre!uently interlaced, have
been compared to parables, myths, and allegories
and often illustrate the importance of moral
obligation. -lthough he draws upon his ewish
heritage to address the themes of sin, suffering, and
redemption, +alamud emphasi$es human contact
and compassion over orthodox religious dogma.
+alamudAs characters, while often awkward and
isolated from society, evoke both pity and humor
23
through their attempts at survival and salvation.
"heldon . 'ershinow observed4 B6ut of the
everyday defeats and indignities of ordinary people,
+alamud creates beautiful parables that capture the
*oy as well as the pain of life; he expresses the dignity
of the human spirit searching for freedom and moral
growth in the face of hardship, in*ustice, and the
existential anguish of life.
+alamud was born -pril H@, =>=C, in
7rooklyn, New York, to 8ussian ewish immigrants.
'is parents, whom he described as Bgentle, honest,
kindly people,B were not highly educated and knew
very little about literature or the arts4 B&here were no
books that 2 remember in the house, no records,
music, pictures on the wall.B +alamud attended high
school in 7rooklyn and received his 7achelorAs
degree from the (ity (ollege of New York in =>KE.
-fter graduation, he worked in a factory and as a
clerk at the (ensus 7ureau in .ashington, 3. (.
-lthough he wrote in his spare time, +alamud did
not begin writing seriously until the advent of .orld
.ar 22 and the subse!uent horrors of the 'olocaust.
'e !uestioned his religious identity and started
reading about ewish tradition and history. 'e
explained4 B2 was concerned with what ews stood
for, with their getting down to the bare bones of
things. 2 was concerned with their ethnicality%%how
ews felt they had to live in order to go on living.B 2n
=>C>, he began teaching at 6regon "tate University;
he left this post in =>E= to teach creative writing at
7ennington (ollege in <ermont. 'e remained there
until shortly before his death in =>@E.
+alamudAs first novel, The Aatural I=>?HJ,
is considered one of his most symbolic works. .hile
the novel ostensibly traces the life of 8oy 'obbs, an
-merican baseball player, the work has underlying
mythic elements and explores such themes as
initiation and isolation. For instance, some reviewers
cited evidence of the -rthurian legend of the 'oly
9rail; others applied &. ". 5liotAs BwastelandB myth
in their analyses. The Aatural also foreshadows
what would become +alamudAs predominant
narrative focus4 a suffering protagonist struggling to
reconcile moral dilemmas, to act according to what
is right, and to accept the complexities and
hardships of existence. +alamudAs second novel,
The "ssistant I=>?FJ, portrays the life of +orris
7ober, a ewish immigrant who owns a grocery store
in 7rooklyn. -lthough he is struggling to survive
financially, 7ober hires a cynical anti%"emitic youth,
Frank -lpine, after learning that the man is
homeless and on the verge of starvation. &hrough
this contact Frank learns to find grace and dignity in
his own identity. 3escribed as a naturalistic fable,
this novel affirms the redemptive value of
maintaining faith in the goodness of the human soul.
+alamudAs first collection of short stories, The
Magic Barrel I=>?@J, was awarded the National
7ook award in =>?>. Like The "ssistant, most of the
stories in this collection depict the search for hope
and meaning within the grim entrapment of poor
urban settings and were influenced by Yiddish
folktales and 'asidic traditions. +any of +alamudAs
best%known short stories, including B&he Last
+ohican,B B-ngel Levine,B and B2diots First,B were
republished in The #tories of Bernard Malamud in
=>@K.
" Aew $ife I=>E=J, considered one of
+alamudAs most realistic novels, is based in part on
+alamudAs teaching career at 6regon "tate
University. &his work focuses on an ex%alcoholic ew
from New York (ity who, in order to escape his
reputation as a drunkard, becomes a professor at an
agricultural and technical college in the #acific
Northwest. 2nterweaving the protagonistAs !uest for
significance and self%respect with a satiric mockery
of academia, +alamud explores the destructive
nature of idealism, how love can lead to deception,
and the pain of loneliness. +alamudAs next novel,
The Fi;er I=>EEJ, is considered one of his most
powerful works. &he winner of both the #ulit$er
#ri$e and the National 7ook -ward, this book is
derived from the historical account of +endel
7eiliss, a 8ussian ew who was accused of
murdering a (hristian child. 3rawing upon 5astern
5uropean ewish mysticism, The Fi;er turns this
terrifying story of torture and humiliation into a
parable of human triumph. .ith The Tenants I=>F=J,
+alamud returns to a New York (ity setting, where
the theme of self%exploration is developed through
the contrast between two writers, one ewish and the
other black, struggling to survive in an urban ghetto.
.ithin the context of their confrontations about
artistic standards, +alamud also explores how race
informs cultural identity, the purpose of literature,
and the conflict between art and life. -lvin 7. :ernan
commented4 BM The TenantsN is extraordinarily
powerful and compelling in its reali$ation of the view
that is central to the conception of literature as a
social institution4 that literature and the arts are an
inescapable part of society.B
+alamud further addresses the nature of
literature and the role of the artist in 3u*in/s $ives
I=>F>J. 2n this work, the protagonist, .illiam 3ubin,
attempts to create a sense of worth for himself, both
as a man and as a writer. - biographer who escapes
into his work to avoid the reality of his life, 3ubin
bumbles through comically disastrous attempts at
love and passion in an effort to find self%fulfillment.
+alamudAs next novel, 2od/s 2race I=>@HJ, differs
from his earlier works in scope and presentation of
sub*ect matter. "et in the near future immediately
after a nuclear disaster which leaves only one human
being alive, 2od/s 2race explores the darkness of
human morality, the nature of 9od, and the vanity
and destruction associated with contemporary life.
(ritical reception to this work varied greatly. "ome
critics felt that the contrast between the serious
moral fable and the protagonistAs penchant for
alternately conversing with 9od and a group of apes
uni!ue and challenging; others believed the
structure of the novel did not support the
seriousness and ambition of its themes. 'owever,
2od/s 2race, like all of his works, reveals +alamudAs
motivations as a writer and expresses his profound
humanistic concerns. +alamud explained4 B2t seems
to me that the writerAs most important task, no
matter what the current theory of man, or his
prevailing mood, is to recapture his image as human
being as each of us in his secret heart knows it to be.B
Novelist and short story writer 7ernard
+alamud grew up on New YorkAs 5ast "ide where
his 8ussian%ewish immigrant parents worked in
their grocery store sixteen hours a day. +alamud
24
attended high school and college during the height of
the 3epression. 'is own and his familyAs experience
is clearly echoed in his fiction, much of which
chronicles, as +ervyn 8othstein declares in the Aew
Yor Times, Bsimple people struggling to make their
lives better in a world of bad luck.B 'is writings also
are strongly influenced by classic nineteenth%
century -merican writers4 Nathaniel 'awthorne,
'enry 3avid &horeau, 'erman +elville, and 'enry
ames. 2n addition his works reflect a post%
'olocaust consciousness in addressing ewish
concerns and employing literary conventions drawn
from earlier ewish literature.
&he first ma*or period of +alamudAs work
extended from =>C> to =>E= when he was teaching
composition at 6regon "tate (ollege. #roducing
three novels and a collection of short stories during
this period, he won several fiction pri$es, including
the National 7ook -ward. 5ach of the first three
novels feature a schlemiel figure who tries to restore
a .asteland to a #aradise against a ewish
background. &he setting varies in the novels, but in
the short fiction is most often the 5ast "ide of New
York. B&he #risonB portrays a small New York
grocery store based on that of +alamudAs parents, in
which a young 2talian, &ommy (astelli, is trapped.
"imilarly B&he (ost of LivingB%%a predecessor of The
"ssistant%%and 1The Bill1 both present the grocery
store as a sort of prison. -s Leslie and oyce Field
observe in Bernard Malamud' " -ollection of
-ritical Essays, B2n +alamudAs fictional world, there
is always a prison,B and in a =>FK interview with the
Fields, +alamud said4 BNecessity is the primary
prison, though the bars are not visible to all.B
7eneath most +alamudian surfaces lie similar moral
and allegorical meanings.
+alamudAs first novel, The Aatural, is, as
5arl 8. .asserman declares in Bernard Malamud
and the -ritics, Bthe necessary reference text for a
reading of his subse!uent fiction.B &he work is a
mythic novel, based on the -rthurian legends, in
which the #arsifal figure, 8oy I:ingJ 'obbs, restores
fertility to the Fisher :ing, #op Fisher, the manager
of a baseball team called &he :nights. #itcher 8oy
appears as an -rthurian :night modeled in part on
7abe 8uth, but his character also probably is drawn
from (hretien de &royeAs medieval tale, $ancelot of
the -art, featuring a Lancelot who is most often
unhorsed and fre!uently humiliated. -s #eter L.
'ays has said in The Fiction of Bernard Malamud,
BLike Lancelot, +alamudAs heroes are cut to ribbons
in their !uests for love and fortune.B
&he novelAs title is baseball slang for a player
with natural talent, but it can also mean, as it did in
the +iddle -ges, an innocent fool. -s #hilip 8oth
has said in Reading Myself and Bthers, this is Bnot
baseball as it is played in Yankee "tadium, but a
wild, wacky game.B 8oy thinks of himself as B"ir
#ercy lancing "ir +aldemer, or the first son Iwith a
rock in his pawJ ranged against the primitive papa.B
5ven more Freudian is 8oyAs lancelike bat,
.onderboy, which droops when its phallic hero goes
into a slump and finally splits at the novelAs
conclusion.
2n an echo of the 7lack "ox scandal of =>=>,
8oy is bribed to throw the pennant game by evil%
eyed 9us "ands, whose #ot of Fire nightclub and
chorus girls wielding pitchforks suggest hell itself.
&hough there are few obvious ewish traces in The
Aatural, the prank 8oy plays on 9us is a retelling of
a Yiddish prankster tale, with the challenge by the
prankster, the foil or victimAs reaction, and the retort
or prank%%here 8oyAs pulling silver dollars out of
9usAs ears and nose. Yet 8oyAs success is only
temporary. -s 9lenn +eeter notes in Bernard
Malamud and Phili& Roth' " -ritical Essay, BFrom
the grail legend also we know that 8oy will fail; for
the true grail seeker must understand the
supernatural character of his !uest, and 8oy does
not.B 2n the end 8oy, defeated, throws his bribe
money in the face of udge 7anner, who is a
dispenser of Bdark wisdom, parables and aphorisms
which punctuate his conversation, making him seem
a cynical #oor 8ichard,B as 2ska -lter remarks in The
2ood Man/s 3ilemma' #ocial -riticism in the
Fiction of Bernard Malamud. &his dramatic scene,
and others in +alamudAs work, accord with his
statement in a =>FK interview4 B+y novels are close
to plays.B
6ther influences are also clearly at work in
+alamudAs first novel. The Aatural has significant
references to birds and flowers and steady reminders
of the passage of the seasons. &he simplicity of this
pastoral style at its best allows the presentation of
complex ideas in a natural way. - second influence,
as +alamud acknowledged, is film techni!ue. For
example, there are !uick movie%like changes of
scene, called *ump cuts, when 8oy and +emo #aris
are tricked into sleeping with each other. 2n
addition, the portrayal of 8oy has a (haplines!ue
!uality of humor to it. &hough +alamud would
never again write non%ewish fiction, The Aatural
was a treasure house of reusable motifs and methods
for all his subse!uent work.
2n =>?C +alamud published one of his
greatest short stories, B&he +agic 7arrel,B which
"anford #insker, in Bernard Malamud' " -ollection
of -ritical Essays, calls Ba nearly perfect blend of
form and content.B 2n this story the matchmaker
#inye "al$man, using cards listing eligible women
and drawn from his magic barrel, tricks student
rabbi Leo Finkle into a love match with "al$manAs
daughter, "tella, a streetwalker. 2n <udaism, +arcia
7ooher 9ealy describes the structural essence of
such 'asidic%influenced stories4 I=J the inward
*ourney; IHJ the older man tutoring the younger; IKJ
the triumph of love; ICJ the reality of evil; and I?J
transformation through the tale itself. &his structure
merges with another influence, that of nineteenth%
century -merican romanticism, for +alamud often
*oins the 'asidic and 'awthornian in his fables. -s
8enee .inegarten comments in Bernard Malamud'
" -ollection of -ritical Essays, B'is magic barrels
and silver crowns, whatever their seal, firmly belong
in the moral, allegorical realm of scarlet letters,
white whales and golden bowls.B
(oncerning "al$man, as 2rving 'owe has
said in World of Bur Fathers, B&he matchmaker, or
shadhn, is a stereotypical Yiddish figure4 slightly
comic, slightly sad, at the edge of destitution.B "uch
confidence men reappear in +alamudAs fiction, in
B&he "ilver (rown,B for example. -nd "al$man
shows +alamudAs early perfection of a ewish%
-merican speech, which is neither pure Yiddish
25
dialect nor mere literary chat, but an imaginative
combination of both. :athryn 'ellerstein observes
in The #tate of the $anguage that Yiddish speakers
in +alamudAs works are Belderly, static, or decliningB
and concludes that for +alamud, Yiddish figures are
Ba spectral presence of the constraining, delimited,
stultified past.B
.hat many critics have referred to as
+alamudAs finest novel, The "ssistant, appeared in
=>?F. -s 2hab 'assan has said in The Fiction of
Bernard Malamud, BThe "ssistant, 2 believe, will
prove a classic not only of ewish but of -merican
literature.B Frank -lpine, Bthe assistant,B suggests "t.
Francis of -ssisi, whose biography, The $ittle
Flowers, is -lpineAs favorite book and whose
stigmata he at one point seems to emulate. Like 8oy
in The Aatural, Frank is the #arsifal figure who must
bring fertility, or at least new life, to the Fisher :ing,
here the grocery store owner +orris 7ober. "ome
critics have contended that 7ober may parallel
philosopher +artin 7uber, whose 2%&'6U
philosophy of human relations 7ober seems,
however instinctively, to share, though +alamud
himself denied any use of 7uber in this novel.
.hen he stands under a BNo &rustB sign,
7ober also recalls +elvilleAs novel, The -onfidence
Man. 9iving food to a drunk woman who will never
pay, +orris teaches Frank to have compassion for
others. Yet Frank cannot control his passion for
+orrisAs daughter, 'elen. &hus when Frank saves
'elen from an attempted rape, he fails the trial of
the #erilous 7ed, rapes her *ust as she is about to
admit her love for him, and loses her.
Frank and +orris represent a familiar motif
in +alamudAs works, that of the father%son pair, the
schlemiel%schlima$el twins. +alamud likes these
doublings and there are three other fatherUson pairs
in the novel. - favorite definition of these types is
that the schlemiel spills his teacup, and the
schlima$el is the one he spills it on. Norman Leer,
thinking perhaps of 8ussian novelist Feodor
3ostoevskyAs -rime and Punishment, speaks in
Mosaic' " <ournal for the -om&arative #tudy of
$iterature and 7deas of Bthe notion of the divided
self, and the attraction of two characters who mirror
a part of each other, and are thereby drawn together
as doubles.B
-nother recurrent feature of +alamudian
narrative, the 'olocaust, is never far from the
surface, though it appears almost always in an
obli!ue way. +orris, in despair over his luckless
grocery storeUprison, turns on the gas to commit
suicide, a reminder of the gas chambers of the
'olocaust. -nd here +alamud introduces from the
world of fantasy a professional arsonist who is like a
figure from hell%%recalling the night club women and
their pitchforks in The Aatural. 2n The "ssistant, at
+orrisAs funeral, Frank halts the ceremony by falling
into the open grave while trying to see the rose
'elen had thrown into it. &he characters in
+alamudAs fiction fre!uently dream, and in FrankAs
dream, "t. Francis successfully gives FrankAs rose to
'elen. 8achel 5rtel declares in $e Roman ,uif
americain' Cne Ecriture minoritaire, B7y going
constantly from the real to the supernatural,
7ernard +alamud deadens, nullifies the disbelief of
the reader and gives himself elbow room to narrate
the fables, the parables that make up his novels and
short stories.B
2n =>?@, with the publication of his first
volume of short stories, The Magic Barrel, +alamud
received national recognition and in =>?> won the
National 7ook -ward for the collection. -ll the
stories in the volume display +alamudAs continuing
debt to 'awthorne; as ackson . 7enson says in
The Fiction of Bernard Malamud, the two writers
Bpossess the ability to combine, with great skill,
reality and the dream, the natural and supernatural.B
&hus there is a kinship between +alamudAs B2diots
First,B B&he "ilver (rown,B and B&he +agic 7arrelB
and 'awthorneAs short stories B+y :insman, +a*or
+olineux,B BYoung 9oodman 7rown,B and B&he
7irthmark.B +oreover, B&he First "even YearsB%%
featuring Feld, a #olish immigrant shoemaker who
refuses to speak Yiddish and who wants his daughter
+iriam to marry a rising young suitor, +ax, rather
than his middle%aged but devoted helper, "obel%%is
reminiscent of 'awthorneAs B5than 7rand,B with its
warning about Bhardness of the heart.B 'owever,
B&he First "even YearsB is 'awthorne plus
'olocaust, for "obel had barely escaped 'itlerAs
incinerators.
2n the years from =>C> to =>E= +alamud
slowly became Bone of the foremost writers of moral
fiction in -merica,B as effrey 'elterman comments
in Cnderstanding Bernard Malamud. 6f his last
work in this first period, "heldon . 'ershinow
remarks in Bernard Malamud' B- New Life is
+alamudAs first attempt at social satire, and much of
the novel is given over to it.B 2ts hero, marginal ew
"y Levin, shows the complexity behind the names of
practically all ma*or characters in +alamud. 2n -ity
of Words' "merican Fiction 9=>:D9=E:, &ony
&anner explains that the name Levin means the east,
or light; it is also associated with lightning. &anner
writes4 B2 have it direct from +r. +alamud that by a
pun on VleavenA he is suggesting what the marginal
ew may bring in attitude to the -merican scene.B
Levin, whose fictional career resembles that of
+alamud, is a former high school teacher who *oins
the faculty at (ascadia University in 5aschester,
6regon, a name that suggests a castle of ease.
-ccording to +ark 9oldman, in a -ritiFue review,
B5arly in the novel, Levin is the tenderfoot
5asterner, the academic sad sack, or schlima$el of
Yiddish literature, invoking nature like a tenement
8ousseau.B Levin, then is the schlemiel as lecturer,
who teaches his first class with his fly open, then
bumbles his way into an affair with a coed, Nadalee,
a lady of the lake who has written an essay on nude
bathing. -s "andy (ohen says in Bernard Malamud
and the Trial *y $ove, B+alamudAs favorite method
of portraying a protagonistAs struggle to overcome
his vanity is to symboli$e it in terms of the 9rail
myth. &hus LevinAs *ourney to meet Nadalee takes on
certain aspects of the grail !uest.B 2ndeed, Levin
*ourneys Bin his trusty 'udson, his lance at his side.B
Later Levin makes love in the woods to
#auline 9illey; in an echo of 5nglish novelist 3. '.
LawrenceAs $ady -hatterley/s $over, #auline also
has an impotent husband, 9erald 9illey, future
chairman of the 5nglish 3epartment. -gainst this
pastoral background, complete with the passage of
the seasons, Levin is also the -merican -dam4 as
26
'ershinow observes, B2mmersed in the writings of
5merson, &horeau, and .hitman, Levin believes
wholeheartedly the metaphors about -merica as a
New%.orld 9arden of 5den. 7y going west he feels
he can recapture his lost innocence and escape the
past%%become the New%.orld -dam.B
&his ma*or love affair is also 'awthornian4
as #aul .itherington notes in Western "merican
$iterature, BLevinAs affair with #auline matures in
'awthorne fashion to an inner drama of the
ambiguities of paradise.B 2n fact, Levin sees himself
as B-rthur 3immesdale Levin, locked in stocks on a
platform in the town s!uare, a red - stapled on his
chest.B From LevinAs point of view, #auline, whose
love earned him his scarlet letter -, is also the
tantali$ing shisa, the 9entile temptress of so many
ewish%-merican novels, not only those of +alamud
but also of "aul 7ellow and #hilip 8oth among
others. -s Frederick (ople aher points out in the
"merican Guarterly, to ewish men, such women
seem to be Bexotic insidersB and so represent Btickets
of admission into -merican society.B
-t the conclusion of the novel, 9illey asks
Levin why he wants to take on two adopted children
and 9illeyAs apparently barren wife. Levin replies,
B7ecause 2 can, you son of a bitch.B -nd Levin,
defeated in academe, but having impregnated the
barren #auline, whose flat breasts are beginning to
swell, drives away with his new family, having
agreed with 9illey never again to teach in a
university. &his ending, as so often in +alamud, is
ambiguous, for Levin is no longer in romantic love
with #auline. 'ere is what -ritiFue contributor 8uth
7. +andel calls Bironic affirmationB%%B&he
affirmation itself is ironic in that the state of grace is
unaccompanied by paradise.B
-fter +alamudAs move back east to
7ennington (ollege, his second period Iroughly
=>E=%=>FDJ began, and both his stories and his next
two novels took a more cosmopolitan and
international direction. 2n Bernard Malamud,
"idney 8ichman perceptively observes that the title
story in 7diots First is Ba morality MplayN a la
Everyman in which the sense of a real world Iif only
the sense of itJ is utterly absorbed by a dream%
landscape, a never%never%land New York (ity
through which an elderly ew named +endel
wanders in search of comfort and aid.B +endel is
indeed a ewish 5veryman, who tries to dodge the
-ngel of 3eath Ihere named 9in$burgJ to arrange
for the future of his handicapped son, 2saac.
-nother short story, B&he +aidAs "hoes,B
reveals the new sub*ect matter and style. #rofessor
6rlando :rant$, who plays the part of the
comparatively wealthy -merican as 5veryman, tries
to give a small gift to his poor 2talian maid, 8osa, but
it is a gift without the understanding that the
impoverished 5uropean needs4 B7ut though they
shared the same roof, and even the same hot water
bottle and bathtub, they almost never shared
speech.B 'ere, failures of the heart, common to the
fiction of the first period, are extended to complete
failures of empathy. Furthermore, the story is no
longer fantastic, as in +alamudAs first period, but
realistic. 6f 8osa, +alamud writes4 B"he was forty%
five and looked older. 'er face was worn but her hair
was black, and her eyes and lips were pretty. "he had
few good teeth. .hen she laughed she was
embarrassed around the mouth.B Finally, the story
has a single consistent point of view instead of the
omniscient point of view of the earlier stories. Yet
since that omniscient narration contained
+alamudAs often compassionate comments that are
a part of his first period manner, these newer stories
have a bleaker cast to them.
Next to The "ssistant in critical reputation
comes The Fi;er, winner of the #ulit$er #ri$e and the
National 7ook -ward in =>EF. 2n a search for a
suffering 5veryman plot, +alamud had thought of
several sub*ects%%the trial of -lfred 3reyfus and the
"acco%<an$etti case, among others%%before deciding
on a story he had heard from his father as a boy, that
of the trial of +endel 7eiliss for ritual bloodletting
and murder in =>=K in 8ussia. &hrough this story,
+alamud also tries to answer the !uestion of how
the death camps in 9ermany had been possible.
'ero Yakov 7okAs last name suggests a scapegoat,
and also the goat mentioned in the song chanted for
the end of the #assover "eder as a symbol of ewish
survival. -s +alamud said in an interview with
(hristopher Lehmann%'aupt in the Aew Yor
Times Boo Review, it was necessary Bto
mythologi$e%%that is, to make metaphors and
symbols of the ma*or events and characters.B
&he novel itself covers two years, spring =>==
to winter =>=K, during which 7ok is imprisoned after
being falsely accused of the ritual murder of a
9entile boy. .ithout legal counsel 7ok suffers
betrayal, gangrene, poison, and free$ing cold, and
finally turns inward to develop a sense of freedom.
2n prison this 5veryman fixer learns through
suffering to overcome, at least in part, his initial
agnosticism, and his doubts of what is meant by the
(hosen #eople. 'e re*ects both suicide and a
pardon, and accepts his ewishness. Finally, in a
dream encounter with &sar Nicholas 22, 7ok shoots
the &sar. -s ohn F. 3esmond writes in Renascence'
Essays on 6alues in $iterature, BYakov has come to
understand that no man is apolitical, especially a
ew; conse!uently, if his chance came, as it does in
the imaginary meeting with the &sar, he would not
hesitate to kill the ruler as a beginning step towards
purging that society of its agents of repression and
in*ustice, and thus strike a blow for freedom and
humanity.B 7ok, at least in his dream, is no longer
the passive suffering servant of 2saiah, portrayed in
many of +alamudAs first period fictions, but one who
seeks revenge. 'as 7ok lost more important values0
&he dream setting leaves the ending ambiguous, but
+alamudAs real sub*ect is not so much 7ok himself,
as those, like the 9ermans, other 5uropeans, and
-mericans during the 'olocaust, who either
participate in, or passively observe, the treatment of
5veryman as victim. -s the Fields remark, +alamud
repeatedly tried to make clear, especially in this
second period, that ewish victims are 5veryman as
victim, for history, sooner or later, treats all men as
ews.
&he final ma*or work of this second period
was Pictures of Fidelman' "n E;hi*ition. -s Leslie
-. Field has written in Bernard Malamud' "
-ollection of -ritical Essays, B6f all the +alamud
characters, early and late, one must return to -rthur
Fidelman as the +alamud schlemiel &ar e;cellence.B
27
&he Fidelman stories appeared both separately in
maga$ines and in two story collections from =>?@ to
=>E>, and they were not originally thought of as a
unit. 7ut the last three stories are tightly linked, and
as 8obert 3ucharme asserts in "rt and 7dea in the
Aovels of Bernard Malamud' Toward 1The Fi;er,1
+alamud deliberately saved the last story for the
book because he didnAt want to let readers know the
ending. &hree genres merge in Pictures of Fidelman,
that of the %unstlerroman or artist novel, the
Bildungsroman or education novel, and the
4ucle*erry Finn%like picares!ue novel, in which
the main character wanders through a series of
adventures. Fidelman Ifaith manJ encounters
"usskind Isweet childJ in the first story or chapter,
BLast +ohican.B "usskind is a ewish folktale type, a
chnorrer, or as 9oldman terms him, Ba beggar with
style,B who wants the second of FidelmanAs two suits.
8ebuffed, "usskind steals the first chapter of
FidelmanAs book on 2talian artist 9iotto di 7ondone.
'ershinow suggests that B"usskind becomes for
Fidelman a kind of dybbuk IdemonJ who inhabits his
conscience, destroying his peace of mind.B -s (ohen
remarks, B"o Fidelman begins an active search for
"usskind who begins to take on the roles of alter%
ego, superego, and symbol for FidelmanAs true
heritage and past.B 'ere again is the familiar
+alamud motif of the *ourney that changes a life.
2n pursuit, Fidelman visits a synagogue, a
ewish ghetto, and a graveyard that contains victims
of the 'olocaust. 7oth at the cemetery and in his
cra$y pursuit of "usskind, "chlemiel Fidelman
recalls Frank -lpine in The "ssistant, for Fidelman
too is linked to "t. Francis. 2n a dream Fidelman sees
"usskind, who shows him a 9iotto fresco in which
"t. Francis gives his clothing to a poor knight. -s
"idney 8ichman affirms in Bernard Malamud and
the -ritics, B2n the same fashion as Frankie -lpine,
Fidelman must discover that the way to the self is
paradoxically through another; and the answer is
heralded by a sudden alteration of the pursuit.B -t
the end of this artistic pilgrimAs progress, Bagainst
his will, Fidelman learns what the ancient rabbis
taught and what "usskind has always known4 ews%%
that is, human beings, menschen, in +alamudAs
terms%%are responsible for each other. &hat is the
essence of being human,B +ichael 7rown relates in
<udaism.
Fidelman must learn in the next stories what
makes a great artist. For example, in the fourth
story, 1" Pim&/s Revenge,1 Fidelman returns his
mistress, 5smeralda, to prostitution to pay for his
constantly repainted masterwork, a portrait of her,
first as +other and "on, then as 7rother and "ister,
and finally as #rostitute and #rocurer. B&he truth is 2
am afraid to paint, like 2 might find out something
about myself,B Fidelman says. 5smeralda knows the
secret4 B2f 2 have my choice, 2All take life. 2f thereAs
not that thereAs no art.B 7arbara Lefcowit$ *ustly
argues in $iterature and Psychology, B.here
+alamud excels is in his subtle and nearly always
comical *uxtaposition of a neurotic character against
a deeper and wider moral and historical context.B
Fidelman finally produces a masterpiece, but,
second%rate artist that he is, canAt let it alone, and
mars it. &he genius knows when to stop, but
5veryman does not, and 5smeralda calls him a
murderer.
2n the final story, B9lass 7lower of <enice,B
Fidelman tries to play artist once more, under the
reluctant teaching of his homosexual lover 7eppo,
but at last gives up art for craftsmanship and returns
to -merica. Fidelman, the craftsman, no longer the
inade!uate artist, has finally achieved the goals
toward which "usskind%%and later 5smeralda%%
pointed him. "amuel 2. 7ellman argues in -ritiFue
that Bmore than any other +alamudian character
Fidelman is constantly growing, reali$ing himself,
transforming his unsatisfactory old life into a more
satisfactory new one.B 2n Bernard Malamud' "
-ollection of -ritical Essays, "heldon N. 9rebstein
praises the *uxtaposition of Bthe coarsely sexual and
the sublimely aesthetic.B 2ndeed, no other work of
+alamud shows so much appetite for life; as
'elterman has argued4 BMFidelmanN also seeks, and
occasionally participates in, a richness of passion not
typical of +alamudAs urban heroes.B &he epigraph
for Pictures of Fidelman is from Yeats4 B&he intellect
of man is forced to choose #erfection of the life or of
the work.B 'owever, the new Fidelman chooses
Bboth.B
The Tenants inaugurated +alamudAs third
and final period. 2n the works of this period the
heroic structuring of the first period is gone, as are
the .andering ews and the 5veryman motifs of the
second. 7eneath differing surface plots, though, a
new structural likeness appears. 7efore =>F=
+alamudAs typical ewish characters tend to move
towards responsibility rather than towards
achievement; but from =>F= on, they become
extraordinary achievers, or machers.
2n The Tenants 'arry Lesser, a minor
ewish novelist, is writing a novel about being
unable to finish a novel, in a kind of infinite
regression. 'e keeps on living in the apartment
building that landlord Levenspiel Ileaven gameJ
wants to tear down; then a s!uatter, black writer
.illie "pearmint I.illie "hakespeareJ, moves into
the building. .illie and 'arry are the kind of
doubled pair Idrawn from 5dgar -llan #oe and
3ostoevskyJ that +alamud is fond of, for 'arryAs
writing is all form, and .illieAs is all vitality. 'arry
takes over 2rene, .illieAs ewish girl; .illie burns
'arryAs manuscript; 'arry axes .illieAs typewriter;
and in a final burst of overachievement, .illie brains
'arry and 'arry castrates .illie. The Tenants Bends
in a scream of language,B reports +alcolm 7radbury
in Encounter. &hough the novel hints at two other
possible endings%%by fire, or by 'arryAs marriage to
2rene%%Levenspiel has the last word, which is
Rachmones, or mercy.
&hough The Tenants did little for +alamudAs
reputation, he continued to place stories in top
-merican maga$ines. +ervyn 8othstein reported in
the Aew Yor Times that +alamud said at the end of
his life, B.ith me, itAs story, story, story.B 2n
+alamudAs next%to%last collection, Rem*randt/s
4at, only one story, B&he "ilver (rown,B is
predominantly ewish, in sharp contrast to his first
collection, while other stories are more reminiscent
of (hekhov. &here is even a visit to the (hekhov
+useum in B+an in the 3rawer,B a story that shows
the fascination with achievement so dominant in
2*
+alamudAs final period. 'oward 'arvit$, an
intellectual tourist in 8ussia and a marginal ew, has
changed his name from 'arris back to 'arvit$.
'ardly a creative writer himself, he is doing a piece
on museums. - 8ussian writer, Levitansky%%also a
marginal ew, but a determined achiever in spite of
official opposition%%intends to smuggle his stories
out of 8ussia. 'arvit$ at first doesnAt want this
charge, but discovers that four of the stories show
heroes not taking responsibility. -fter reading them,
'arvit$ timorously takes the stories out of 8ussia.
3u*in/s $ives took +alamud over five years
to write, twice as long as any previous novel. 8alph
&yler in the Aew Yor Times Boo Review reports
that +alamud said 3u*in/s $ives was Bhis attempt at
bigness, at summing up what he ... learned over the
long haul.B 2n the novel, the biographer 3ubin is an
isolated achiever, no mere recorder of biographical
facts but a creative, even fictionali$ing biographer4
B6ne must transcend autobiographical detail by
inventing it after it is remembered.B 3ubin is trying
to write a biography of 3. '. Lawrence, a writer who
made passion his religion, yet was impotent. &here
had been a glancing counterpointing of LawrenceAs
career in " Aew $ife, but here this motif is much
enlarged; as 3avid Levin observes in 6irginia
Guarterly Review, B&he complexities of 3ubinAs
subse!uent adventures often run parallel to events
in LawrenceAs life.B
2n the kind of psychomachia, or inner
struggle, which some critics see as the essence of
-merican fiction, 3ubin, as 'elterman notes, Bloses
his memory, his sexual powers, his ability to work,
even his ability to relate to his family. -t first, the
only compensation for these losses is a kind of high%
grade nostalgia brought about by a process called
reverie.B &hese reveries lead 3ubin to a liaison with
young Fanny 7ick, whose first name comes from
5nglish novelist ane -ustenAs heroine in Mansfield
Par, Fanny #rice; Fanny 7ick is an -usten heroine
with glands. Like a number of heroines in
+alamudAs fiction, she is significantly associated
with wildflowers, fruit, and bird flights. (hiara
7riganti remarks in #tudies in "merican <ewish
$iterature that Ball the female characters in
+alamudAs fiction share a common shallowness and
common values4 they all respect marriage and family
life, and, whatever their past, they all seek
fulfillment through a permanent relationship with a
man.B 7ut Fanny breaks this stereotypical pattern,
for at the end of 3u*in/s $ives she ambitiously
intends to become a lawyer.
3ubinAs affair in <enice, where the youthful
Fanny almost immediately betrays him with their
gondolier, is that of the schlemiel lover seen before
in Frank -lpine and "y Levin. 7arbara Wuart, in
#tudies in "merican <ewish $iterature, has seen a
further problem4 B.hile +alamudAs central
characters try to break out of their solitude, they
appear to fear love and women as much as they long
for them.B 7ut dominant among familiar motifs is
the character of 3ubin as the isolated overachiever,
who moves his study from his country house into the
barn to devote all possible energy and space to his
biography. 3ubin even begrudges time wasted
thinking about Fanny, with whom he is genuinely in
love.
+alamudAs last finished novel, 2od/s 2race,
treats both the original 'olocaust and a new,
imagined 'olocaust of the future. 2n 7mmigrantD
#urvivors' PostD4olocaust -onsciousness in Recent
<ewishD "merican $iterature, 3orothy "eldman
7ilik has pointed out that the !uestion of why 9od
permitted the 'olocaust has been an issue in
+alamudAs fiction for thirty years; indeed, for
+alamud the 'olocaust has been the ultimate mark
of inhumanity, and 2od/s 2race treats the 'olocaust
not only as manAs inhumanity to man, but as 9odAs
inhumanity to man. &he novel is a wild, at times
brilliant, at times confusing description of a second
NoahAs Flood. (alvin (ohn, a paleologist and the son
of a rabbi%cantor, had been doing underseas
research when the 3*anks and the 3ru$hkies IYanks
and 8ussiansJ launched an atomic 'olocaust and
destroyed every other human. (alvin recalls many
7iblical and literary figures4 #arsifal, 8omeo,
#rospero, 8obinson (rusoe, 9ulliver, and -hab. 'is
5ve and uliet is +ary +adelyn, a chimpan$ee. -n
albino ape appears Ipossibly an obli!ue reference to
+oby 3ickJ with other apes as Yahoos from
onathan "wiftAs 2ulliver/s Travels, and the
chimpan$ee 7u$ serves as (ohnAs 2saac, (aliban, and
man Friday. &here is even an -rthurian spear used
to harpoon the albino ape.
MXN
&his complex novel baffled its first
reviewers; for example, oseph 5pstein wrote in
-ommentary' B+uch of the humor in the novel is of
the kind known as faintly amusing, but the chimp
humor, on the scale of wit, is roughly three full rungs
down from transvestite *okes.B #art of the difficulty
in the novel is that 2od/s 2race does not fall into a
clear genre category; in a =>@H -hristian #cience
Monitor article, <ictor 'owes called it Bsomewhat
east of sci%fi, somewhat west of allegory.B 'owever,
like much of +alamudAs work, 2od/s 2race not only
reflects the ewish 6ld &estament but also partakes
of an -merican colonial genre, the eremiad, or
warning of future disaster.
+alamudAs final, but unfinished work, 1The
Tri*e,1 concerns the adventures of a 8ussian ewish
peddlar, Yo$ip, among the western 2ndians. -s Nan
8obertson recounts in the Aew Yor Times, the
schlemiel hero Yo$ip becomes a marshal, is
kidnapped by a tribe of 2ndians, and has a dialogue
with an 2ndian chief about obtaining his freedom.
Malamud ga'e !e# inter'ie#s8 $ut those
he did grant ro'ided the $est
commentary on his #ork8 as #hen he
told Michiko 0akutani in the New York
Times- 2Peole say I #rite so much a$out
misery8 $ut you #rite a$out #hat you
#rite $est9 /s you are groo'ed8 so you
are grie'ed9 /nd the grie'ing is that no
matter ho# much hainess or success
you collect8 you cannot o$literate your
early e%erience92 :et erhas
Malamud;s contri$ution is clearest in his
greatest in'ention8 his <e#ish=/merican
dialect8 comic e'en at the height o!
tragedy9 For e%amle8 Cal'in Cohn8
sacri!iced $y the chimanzee Buz in a
#ild in'ersion o! the story o! /$raham
2+
and Isaac8 re!lects that God a!ter all has
let him li'e out his li!e> Cohn then asks
himsel!==!orgetting his educated seech
and re'erting to the :iddish rhythms o!
his youth==2May$e tomorro# the #orld
to come?2 In such comic=serious
@uestioning8 Malamud catures the 'oice
o! the ast and gi'es it rele'ance to the
resent9
3,
2
Alice Walker
N2N5&55N F2F&Y%F2<5

=>??
&he car is a brandnew red &hunderbird
convertible, and itAs passed the house more than
once. 2t slows down real slow now, and stops at the
curb. -n older gentleman dressed like a 7aptist
deacon gets out on the side near the house, and a
young fellow who looks about sixteen gets out on the
driverAs side. &hey are white, and 2 wonder what in
the world they doing in this neighborhood.
.ell, 2 say to . &., put your shirt on, anyway, and
let me clean these glasses offa the table.
.e had been watching the ballgame on &<. 2
wasnAt actually watching, 2 was sort of daydreaming,
with my foots up in . &.As lap.
2 seen Aem coming on up the walk, brisk, like they
coming to sell something, and then they rung the
bell, and . &. declined to put on a shirt but instead
disappeared into the bedroom where the other
television is. 2 turned down the one in the living
room; 2 figured 2Ad be rid of these two double !uick
and . &. could come back out again.
-re you 9racie +ae "till0 asked the old guy, when
2 opened the door and put my hand on the lock
inside the screen.
-nd 2 donAt need to buy a thing, said 2.
.hat makes you think weAre sellinA0 he asks, in
that hearty "outhern way that makes my eyeballs
ache.
.ell, one way or another and theyAre inside the
house and the first thing the young fellow does is
raise the &< a couple of decibels. 'eAs about five feet
nine, sort of womanish looking, with real dark white
skin and a red pouting mouth. 'is hair is black and
curly and he looks like a Loosianna creole.
-bout one of your songs, says the deacon. 'e is
maybe sixty, with white hair and beard, white silk
shirt, black linen suit, black tie and black shoes. 'is
cold gray eyes look like theyAre sweating.
6ne of my songs0
&raynor here *ust loves your songs. 3onAt you,
&raynor0 'e nudges &raynor with his elbow.
&raynor blinks, says something 2 canAt catch in a
pitch 2 donAt register.
&he boy learned to sing and dance livinA round
you people out in the country. #ractically cut his
teeth on you.
&raynor looks up at me and bites his thumbnail.
2 laugh.
.ell, one way or another they leave with my
agreement that they can record one of my songs. &he
deacon writes me a check for five hundred dollars,
the boy grunts his awareness of the transaction, and
2 am laughing all over myself by the time 2 re*oin .
&.
ust as 2 am snuggling down beside him though 2
hear the front door bell going off again.
Forgit his hat0 asks . &.
2 hope not, 2 say.
&he deacon stands there leaning on the door
frame and once again 2Am thinking of those sweaty%
looking eyeballs of his. 2 wonder if sweat makes your
eyeballs pink because his are sure pink. #ink and
gray and it strikes me that nobody 2Ad care to know is
behind them.
2 forgot one little thing, he says pleasantly. 2
forgot to tell you &raynor and 2 would like to buy up
all of those records you made of the song. 2 tell you
we sure do love it.
.ell, love it or not, 2Am not so stupid as to let
them do that without making Aem pay. "o 2 says,
.ell, thatAs gonna cost you. 7ecause, really, that
song never did sell all that good, so 2 was glad they
was going to buy it up. 7ut on the other hand, them
two listening to my song by themselves, and nobody
else getting to hear me sing it, give me a pause.
.ell, one way or another the deacon showed me
where 2 would come out ahead on any deal he had
proposed so far. 3idnAt 2 give you five hundred
dollars0 he asked. .hat white manYemdash;and
donAt even need to mention colored%%would give you
more0 .e buy up all your records of that particular
song4 first, you git royalties. Let me ask you, how
much you sell that song for in the first place0 Fifty
dollars0 - hundred, 2 say. -nd no royalties from it
yet, right0 8ight. .ell, when we buy up all of them
records you gonna git royalties. -nd thatAs gonna
make all them race record shops sit up and take
notice of 9racie +ae "till. -nd they gonna push all
them other records of yourn they got. -nd you no
doubt will become one of the big name colored
recording artists. -nd then we can offer you another
five hundred dollars for letting us do all this for you.
-nd by 9od youAll be sittinA prettyL You can go out
and buy you the kind of outfit a star should have.
#lenty se!uins and yards of red satin.
2 had done unlocked the screen when 2 saw 2
could get some more money out of him. Now 2 held
it wide open while he s!uee$ed through the opening
between me and the door. 'e whipped out another
piece of paper and 2 signed it.
'e sort of trotted out to the car and slid in beside
&raynor, whose head was back against the seat. &hey
swung around in a u%turn in front of the house and
then they was gone.
. &. was putting his shirt on when 2 got back to
the bedroom. Yankees beat the 6rioles =D%E, he said.
2 believe 2All drive out to #aschalAs pond and go
fishing. .anta go0
31
.hile 2 was putting on my pants . &. was
holding the two checks.
2Am real proud of a woman that can make cash
money without leavinA home, he said. -nd 2 said
Cm&h. 7ecause we met on the road with me singing
in first one little low%life *ook after another, making
ten dollars a night for myself if 2 was lucky, and
sometimes bringinA home nothing but my life. -nd .
&. *ust loved them times. &he way 2 was fast and
flashy and always on the go from one town to
another. 'e loved the way my singinA made the dirt
farmers cry like babies and the womens shout
'oney, hushL 7ut thatAs mens. &hey loves any style
to which you can get Aem accustomed.
=>?E
+y little grandbaby called me one night on the
phone4 Little +ama, Little +ama, thereAs a white
man on the television singing one of your songsL
&urn on channel ?.
Lord, if it wasnAt &raynor. "till looking half asleep
from the neck up, but kind of awake in a nasty way
from the waist down. 'e wasnAt doing too bad with
my song either, but it wasnAt *ust the song the people
in the audience was screeching and screaming over,
it was that nasty little *erk he was doing from the
waist down.
.ell, Lord have mercy, 2 said, listening to him. 2f
2Ada closed my eyes, it could have been me. 'e had
followed every turning of my voice, side streets,
avenues, red lights, train crossings and all. 2t give me
a chill.
5verywhere 2 went 2 heard &raynor singing my
song, and all the little white girls *ust eating it up. 2
never had so many ponytails switched across my line
of vision in my life. &hey was so proud. 'e was a
genius.
.ell, all that year 2 was trying to lose weight
anyway and that and high blood pressure and sugar
kept me pretty well occupied. &raynor had made a
smash from a song of mine, 2 still had seven hundred
dollars of the original one thousand dollars in the
bank, and 2 felt if 2 could *ust bring my weight down,
life would be sweet.
=>?F
2 lost ten pounds in =>?E. &hatAs what 2 give
myself for (hristmas. -nd . &. and me and the
children and their friends and grandkids of all
description had *ust finished dinner%%over which 2
had put on nine and a half of my lost ten%%when who
should appear at the front door but &raynor. Little
+ama, Little +amaL 2tAs that white man who
singsZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ. &he children didnAt call
it my song anymore. Nobody did. 2t was funny how
that happened. &raynor and the deacon had bought
up all my records, true, but on his record he had put
Bwritten by 9racie +ae "till.B 7ut that was *ust
another name on the label, like Bproduced by -pex
8ecords.B
6n the &< he was inclined to dress like the
deacon told him. 7ut now he looked presentable.
+erry (hristmas, said he.
-nd same to you, "on.
2 donAt know why 2 called him "on. .ell, one way
or another theyAre all our sons. &he only re!uirement
is that they be younger than us. 7ut then again,
&raynor seemed to be aging by the minute.
You looks tired, 2 said. (ome on in and have a
glass of (hristmas cheer.
. &. ainAt never in his life been able to act decent
to a white man he wasnAt working for, but he poured
&raynor a glass of bourbon and water, then he took
all the children and grandkids and friends and
whatnot out to the den. -fter while 2 heard &raynorAs
voice singing the song, coming from the stereo
console. 2t was *ust the kind of (hristmas present my
kids would consider cute.
2 looked at &raynor, complicit. 7ut he looked like
it was the last thing in the world he wanted to hear.
'is head was pitched forward over his lap, his hands
holding his glass and his elbows on his knees.
2 done sung that song seem like a million times
this year, he said. 2 sung it on the 9rand 6le 6pry, 2
sung it on the 5d "ullivan show. 2 sung it on +ike
3ouglas, 2 sung it at the (otton 7owl, the 6range
7owl. 2 sung it at Festivals. 2 sung it at Fairs. 2 sung it
overseas in 8ome, 2taly, and once in a submarine
underseas. 2Ave sung it and sung it, and 2Am making
forty thousand dollars a day offa it, and you know
what, 2 donAt have the faintest notion what that song
means.
.hatchumean, what do it mean0 2t mean what it
says. -ll 2 could think was4 &hese suckers is making
forty thousand a day offa my song and now they
gonna come back and try to swindle me out of the
original thousand.
2tAs *ust a song, 2 said. (agey. .hen you fool
around with a lot of no count mens you sing a bunch
of Aem. 2 shrugged.
6h, he said. .ell. 'e started brightening up. 2
*ust come by to tell you 2 think you are a great singer.
'e didnAt blush, saying that. ust said it straight
out.
-nd 2 brought you a little (hristmas present too.
Now you take this little box and you hold it until 2
drive off. &hen you take it outside under that first
streetlight back up the street aways in front of that
green house. &hen you open the box and see . . .
.ell, *ust see.
.hat had come over this boy, 2 wondered,
holding the box. 2 looked out the window in time to
see another white man come up and get in the car
with him and then two more cars full of white mens
start out behind him. &hey was all in long black cars
that looked like a funeral procession.
Little +ama, Little +ama, what it is0 6ne of my
grandkids come running up and started pulling at
the box. 2t was wrapped in gay (hristmas
paperYemdash;the thick, rich kind that itAs hard to
picture folks making *ust to throw away.
. &. and the rest of the crowd followed me out
the house, up the street to the streetlight and in front
of the green house. Nothing was there but
somebodyAs goldgrilled white (adillac. 7randnew
and most distracting. .e got to looking at it so till 2
almost forgot the little box in my hand. .hile the
others were busy making Amiration 2 carefully took
off the paper and ribbon and folded them up and put
them in my pants pocket. .hat should 2 see but a
pair of genuine solid gold caddy keys.
3angling the keys in front of everybodyAs nose, 2
unlocked the caddy, motioned for .&. to git in on the
other side, and us didnAt come back home for two
days.
32
=>ED
.ell, the boy was sure nuff famous by now. 'e
was still a mite shy of twenty but already they was
calling him the 5mperor of 8ock and 8oll.
&hen what should happen but the draft.
.ell, says . &. &here goes all this 5mperor of
8ock and 8oll business.
7ut even in the army the womens was on him like
white on rice. .e watched it on the News.
3ear 9racie +ae Mhe wrote from 9ermanyN,
4ow youH Fine 7 ho&e as this leaues me doing
real well. Before 7 come in the army 7 was gaining a
lot of weight and gitting ,ittery from maing all
them dum* movies. But now l e;ercise and eat right
and get &lenty of rest. 7/m more awae than 7 *een
in ten years. 7 wonder if you are writing any more
songsH
#incerely, Traynor
2 wrote him back4
3ear #on,
We is all fine in the $ord/s good grace and ho&e
this finds you the same. <. T. and me *e out all times
of the day and night in that car you give meDDwhich
you now you didn/t have to do. Bh, and 7 do
a&&reciate the min and the new selfDcleaning
oven. But if you send anymore stuff to eat from
2ermany 7/m going to have to o&en u& a store in
the neigh*orhood ,ust to get rid of it. Really, we
have more than enough of everything. The $ord is
good to us and we don/t now Want.
2lad to here you is well and gitting your right
rest. There ain/t nothing lie e;ercising to hel& that
along. <. T. and me wor some &art of every day
that we don/t go fishing in the garden.
Well, so long #oldier.
#incerely,
2racie Mae
'e wrote4
3ear 2racie Mae,
7 ho&e you and <. T. 7ie that automatic &ower
tiller 7 had one of the stores *ac home send you. 7
went through a mountain of catalogs looing for
itIemdash07 wanted something that even a woman
could use.
7/ve *een thining a*out writing some songs of
my own *ut every time 7 finish one it don/t seem to
*e a*out nothing 7/ve actually lived myself. My
agent ee&s sending me other &eo&le/s songs *ut
they ,ust sound mooney. 7 can hardly git through
/em without gagging.
Every*ody still loves that song of yours. They
as me all the time what do 7 thin it means, really.
7 mean, they want to now ,ust what 7 want to
now. Where out of your life did it come fromH
#incerely,
Traynor
=>E@
2 didnAt see the boy for seven years. No. 5ight.
7ecause *ust about everybody was dead when 2 saw
him again. +alcolm O, :ing, the president and his
brother, and even . &. . &. died of a head cold. 2t
*ust settled in his head like a block of ice, he said,
and nothing we did moved it until one day he *ust
leaned out the bed and died.
'is good friend 'orace helped me put him away,
and then about a year later 'orace and me started
going together. .e was sitting out on the front porch
swing one summer night, dusk%dark, and 2 saw this
great procession of lights winding to a stop.
'oly &oledoL said 'orace. I'eAs got a real sexy
voice like 8ay (harles.J Look at it. 'e meant the long
line of flashy cars and the white men in white
summer suits *umping out on the driversA sides and
standing at attention. .ith wings they could pass for
angels, with hoods they could be the :lan.
&raynor comes waddling up the walk.
-nd suddenly 2 know what it is he could pass for.
-n -rab like the ones you see in storybooks. #lump
and soft and with never a care about weight. 7ecause
with so much money, who cares0 &raynor is almost
dressed like someone from a storybook too. 'e has
on, 2 swear, about ten necklaces. &wo sets of
bracelets on his arms, at least one ring on every
finger, and some kind of shining buckles on his
shoes, so that when he walks you get !uite a few
twinkling lights.
9racie +ae, he says, coming up to give me a hug.
. &.
2 explain that . &. passed. &hat this is 'orace.
'orace, he says, pu$$led but polite, sort of
rocking back on his heels, 'orace.
&hatAs it for 'orace. 'e goes in the house and
donAt come back.
Looks like you and me is gained a few, 2 say.
'e laughs. &he first time 2 ever heard him laugh.
2t donAt sound much like a laugh and 2 canAt swear
that itAs better than no laugh aAtall.
'eAs gitting fat for sure, but heAs still slim
compared to me. 2All never see three hundred pounds
again and 2Ave *ust about said Iexcuse meJ fuck it. 2
got to thinking about it one day anA 2 thought4 aside
from the fact that they say itAs unhealthy, my fat ainAt
never been no trouble. +ens always have loved me.
+y kids ainAt never complained. #lus theyAs fat. -nd
fat like 2 is 2 looks distinguished. You see me coming
and know somebodyAs there.
9racie +ae, he says, 2Ave come with a personal
invitation to you to my house tomorrow for dinner.
'e laughed. .hat did it sound like0 2 couldnAt place
it. "ee them men out there0 he asked me. 2Am sick
and tired of eating with them. &hey donAt never have
nothing to talk about. &hatAs why 2 eat so much. 7ut
if you come to dinner tomorrow we can talk about
the old days. You can tell me about that farm 2
bought you.
2 sold it, 2 said.
You did0
Yeah, 2 said, 2 did. ust cause 2 said 2 liked to
exercise by working in a garden didnAt mean 2
wanted five hundred acresL -nyhow, 2Am a city girl
now. 8aised in the country itAs true. 3irt poor%%the
whole bit%%but thatAs all behind me now.
6h well, he said, 2 didnAt mean to offend you.
.e sat a few minutes listening to the crickets.
&hen he said4 You wrote that song while you was
still on the farm, didnAt you, or was it right after you
left0
You had somebody spying on me0 2 asked.
You and 7essie "mith got into a fight over it once,
he said.
You is been spying on meL
7ut 2 donAt know what the fight was about, he
said. ust like 2 donAt know what happened to your
second husband. Your first one died in the &exas
33
electric chair. 3id you know that0 Your third one
beat you up, stole your touring costumes and your
car and retired with a chorine to &uskegee. 'e
laughed. 'eAs still there.
2 had been mad, but suddenly 2 calmed down.
&raynor was talking very dreamily. 2t was dark but
seems like 2 could tell his eyes werenAt right. 2t was
like something was sitting there talking to me but
not necessarily with a person behind it.
You gave up on marrying and seem happier for it.
'e laughed again. 2 married but it never went like it
was supposed to. 2 never could s!uee$e any of my
own life either into it or out of it. 2t was like singing
somebody elseAs record. 2 copied the way it was
sposed to be exactly but 2 never had a clue what
marriage meant.
2 bought her a diamond ring big as your fist. 2
bought her clothes. 2 built her a mansion. 7ut right
away she didnAt want the boys to stay there. "aid
they smoked up the bottom floor. 'ell, there were
poe floors.
No need to grieve, 2 said. No need to. #lenty more
where she come from.
'e perked up. &hatAs part of what that song
means, ainAt it0 No need to grieve. .hatever it is,
thereAs plenty more down the line.
2 never really believed that way back when 2
wrote that song, 2 said. 2t was all bluffing then. &he
trick is to live long enough to put your young bluffs
to use. Now if 2 was to sing that song today 2Ad tear it
up. A(ause 2 done lived long enough to know itAs true.
&hem words could hold me up.
2 ainAt lived that long, he said.
Look like you on your way, 2 said. 2 donAt know
why, but the boy seemed to need some encouraging.
-nd 2 donAt know, seem like one way or another you
talk to rich white folks and you end up reassuring
them. 7ut what the hell, by now 2 feel something for
the boy. 2 wouldnAt be in his bed all alone in the
middle of the night for nothing. (ouldnAt be nothing
worse than being famous the world over for
something you donAt even understand. &hatAs what 2
tried to tell 7essie. "he wanted that same song.
6verheard me practicing it one day, said, with her
hands on her hips4 9racie +ae, 2Ama sing your song
tonight. 2 likes it.
Your lips be too swole to sing, 2 said. "he was
mean and she was strong, but 2 trounced her.
-inAt you famous enough with your own stuff0 2
said. Leave mine alone. Later on, she thanked me. 7y
then she was +iss 7essie "mith to the .orld, and 2
was still +iss 9racie +ae Nobody from Notasulga.

&he next day all these limousines arrived to pick
me up. Five cars and twelve bodyguards. 'orace
picked that morning to start painting the kitchen.
3onAt paint the kitchen, fool, 2 said. &he only
reason that dumb boy of ours is going to show me
his mansion is because he intends to present us with
a new house.
.hat you gonna do with it0 he asked me,
standing there in his shirtsleeves stirring the paint.
"ell it. 9ive it to the children. Live in it on
weekends. 2t donAt matter what 2 do. 'e sure donAt
care.
'orace *ust stood there shaking his head. +ama
you sure looks good, he says. .ake me up when you
git back.
Fool, 2 say, and pat my wig in front of the mirror.
&he boyAs house is something else. First you come
to this mountain, and then you commence to drive
and drive up this road thatAs lined with magnolias.
3o magnolias grow on mountains0 2 was wondering.
-nd you come to lakes and you come to ponds and
you come to deer and you come up on some sheep.
-nd 2 figure these two is sposed to represent
5ngland and .ales. 6r something out of 5urope.
-nd you *ust keep on coming to stuff. -nd itAs all
pretty. 6nly the man driving my car donAt look at
nothing but the road. Fool. -nd then finally, after all
this time, you begin to go up the driveway. -nd
thereAs more magnolias%%only theyAre not in such
good shape. 2tAs sort of cool up this high and 2 donAt
think theyAre gonna make it. -nd then 2 see this
building that looks like if it had a name it would be
&he &ara 'otel. (olumns and steps and outdoor
chandeliers and rocking chairs. 8ocking chairs0
.ell, and thereAs the boy on the steps dressed in a
dark green satin *acket like you see folks [vearing on
&< late at night, and he looks sort of like a fat
dracula with all that house rising behind him, and
standing beside him thereAs this little white vision of
loveliness that he introduces as his wife.
'eAs nervous when he introduces us and he says
to her4 &his is 9racie +ae "till, 2 want you to know
me. 2 mean . . . and she gives him a look that would
fry meat.
.onAt you come in, 9racie +ae, she says, and
thatAs the last 2 see of her.
'e fishes around for something to say or do and
decides to escort me to the kitchen. .e go through
the entry and the parlor and the breakfast room and
the dining room and the servantsA passage and
finally get there. &he first thing 2 notice is that,
altogether, there are five stoves. 'e looks about to
introduce rne to one.
.ait a minute, 2 say. :itchens donAt do nothing
for me. LetAs go sit on the front porch.
.ell, we hike back and we sit in the rocking
chairs rocking until dinner.
9racie +ae, he says down the table, taking a
piece of fried chicken from the woman standing over
him, 2 got a little surprise for you.
2tAs a house, ainAt it0 2 ask, spearing a chitlin.
YouAre getting s&oiled, he says. -nd the way he
says spoiled sounds funny. 'e slurs it. 2t sounds like
his tongue is too thick for his mouth. ust that !uick
heAs finished the chicken and is now eating chitlins
and a pork chop. +e spoiled, 2Am thinking.
2 already got a house. 'orace is right this minute
painting the kitchen. 2 bought that house. +y kids
feel comfortable in that house.
7ut this one 2 bought you is *ust like mine. 6nly a
little smaller.
2 still donAt need no house. -nd anyway who
would clean it0
'e looks surprised.
8eally, 2 think, some peoples advance so slowly.
2 hadnAt thought of that. 7ut what the hell, 2All get
you somebody to live in.
2 donAt want other folks living Around me. +akes
me nervous.
34
You donAt0 2t do0
.hat 2 want to wake up and see folks 2 donAt even
know for0
'e *ust sits there downtable staring at me. "ome
of that feeling is in the song, ainAt it0 Not the words,
the feeling. .hat 2 want to wake up and see folks 2
donAt even know for0 7ut 2 see twenty folks a day 2
donAt even know, including my wife.
&his food wouldnAt be bad to wake up to though, 2
said. &he boy had found the genius of corn bread.
'e looked at me real hard. 'e laughed. "hort.
&hey want what you got but they donAt want you.
&hey want what 2 got only it ainAt mine. &hatAs what
makes Aem so hungry for me when 2 sing. &hey
getting the flavor of something but they ainAt getting
the thing itself. &hey like a pack of hound dogs trying
to gobble up a scent.
You talkingAbout your fans0
8ight. 8ight. 'e says.
3onAt worry About your fans, 2 say. &hey donAt
know their asses from a hole in the ground. 2 doubt
thereAs a honest one in the bunch.
&hatAs the point. 3ammit, thatAs the pointL 'e
hits the table with his fist. 2tAs so solid it donAt even
!uiver. You need a honest audienceL You canAt have
folks thatAs *ust gonna lie right back to you.
Yeah, 2 say, it was small compared to yours, but 2
had one. 2t would have been worth my life to try to
sing Aem somebody elseAs stuflf that 2 didnAt know
nothing about.
'e must have pressed a bu$$er under the table.
6ne of his flunkies $ombies up.
9it ohnny (arson, he says.
6n the phone0 asks the $ombie.
6n the phone, says &raynor, what you think 2
mean, git him offa the front porch0 +ove your ass.
"o two weeks later weAs on the ohnny (arson
show.
&raynor is all corseted down nice and looks a
little bit fat but mostly good. -nd all the women that
grew up on him and my song s!ueal and s!ueal.
&raynor says4 &he lady who wrote my first hit record
is here with us tonight, and sheAs agreed to sing it for
all of us, *ust like she sung it forty%five years ago.
Ladies and 9entlemen, the great 9racie +ae "tilll
.ell, 2 had tried to lose a couple of pounds my
own self, but failing that 2 had me a very big dress
made. "o 2 sort of rolls over next to &raynor, who is
dwarfted by me, so that when he puts his arm
around back of me to try to hug me it looks funny to
the audience and they laugh.
2 can see this pisses him off. 7ut 2 smile out there
at Aem. 2magine s!uealing for twenty years and not
knowing why youAre s!uealing0 No more sense of
endings and beginnings than hogs.
2t donAt matter, "on, 2 say. 3onAt fret none over
me.
2 commence to sing. -nd 2 sound wonderful.
7eing able to sing good ainAt all about having a good
singing voice aAtall. - good singing voice helps. 7ut
when you come up in the 'ard "hell 7aptist church
like 2 did you understand early that the fellow that
sings is the singer. &hem that waits for programs
and arrangements and letters from home is *ust good
voices occupying body space.
"o there 2 am singing my own song, my own way.
-nd 2 give it all 2 got and en*oy every minute of it.
.hen 2 finish &raynor is standing up clapping and
clapping and beaming at first me and then the
audience like 2Am his mama for true. &he audience
claps politely for about two seconds.
&raynor looks disgusted.
'e comes over and tries to hug me again. &he
audience laughs.
ohnny (arson looks at us like we both weird.
&raynor is mad as hell. 'eAs supposed to sing
something called a love ballad. 7ut instead he takes
the mike, turns to me and says4 Now see if my
imitation still holds up. 'e goes into the same song,
our song, 2 think, looking out at his flaky audience.
-nd he sings it *ust the way he always did. +y voice,
my tone, my inflection, everything. 7ut he forgets a
couple of lines. 5ven before heAs finished the
matronly s!ueals begin.
'e sits down next to me looking whipped.
2t donAt matter, "on, 2 say, patting his hand. You
donAt even know those people. &ry to make the
people you know happy.
2s that in the song0 he asks.
+aybe. 2 say.
=>FF
For a few years 2 hear from him, then nothing. 7ut
trying to lose weight takes all the attention 2 got to
spare. 2 finally faced up to the fact that my fat is the
hurt 2 donAt admit, not even to myself, and that 2
been trying to bury it from the day 2 was born. 7ut
also when you git real old, to tell the truth, it ainAt as
pleasant. 2t gits lumpy and slack. Yuck. "o one day 2
said to 'orace, 2Ama git this shit offa me.
-nd he fell in with the program like he always try
to do and Lord such a procession of salads and
cottage cheese and fruit *uiceL
6ne night 2 dreamed &raynor had split up with
his fifteenth wife. 'e said4 You meet Aem for no
reason. You date Aem for no reason. You marry Aem
for no reason. 2 do it all but 2 swear itAs *ust like
somebody else doing it. 2 feel like 2 canAt
rememberLife.
&he boyAs in trouble, 2 said to 'orace.
YouAve always said that, he said.
2 have0
Yeah. You always said he looked asleep. You canAt
sleep through life if you wants to live it.
You not such a fool after all, 2 said, pushing
myself up with my cane and hobbling over to where
he was. Let me sit down on your lap, 2 said, while
this salad 2 ate takes effect.
2n the morning we heard &raynor was dead.
"ome said fat, some said heart, some said alcohol,
some said drugs. 6ne of the children called from
3etroit. &hem dumb fans of his is on a crying
rampage, she said. You *ust ought to turn on the &<.
7ut 2 didnAt want to see Aem. &hey was crying and
crying and didnAt even know what they was crying
for. 6ne day this is going to be a pitiful country, 2
thought.
-lice .alkerAs BNineteen Fifty%FiveB4 fiction and fact.
BNineteen Fifty%fiveB is the opening story in -lice
.alkerAs =>@= collection You (anAt :eep a 9ood
.oman 3own. 5arly reviewers identified its two
principal characters, &raynor and 9racie +ae BLittle
35
+amaB "till, with 5lvis #resley and .illie +ae B7ig
+amaB &hornton.I=J 5lvis is an important figure in
popular music and culture; .illie +ae &hornton
represents personal, artistic, and ethical values
admired by .alker. &he author bases her characters
on these real people but abandons biographical
accuracy to amplify the symbolic meaning of each
character. 2n this process, 5bas becomes an
interloper destroyed by stealing what he does not
understand. &he &hornton character is poor but
authentic, and she succeeds as a person even though
her career flops. &hus each character stands for an
idea that helps develop the theme of being true to
oneAs self. 5xamining how .alker turns 5lvis and
&hornton into fictional characters provides insight
into her creative method. &he most casual reader
will note similarities between &raynor and 5lvis.
Like 5lvis, &raynor gives away (adillacs and houses.
&he character serves in the army in 9ermany. 'e is a
singer who performs to screaming teenagers and
punctuates his songs with a Bnasty little *erk ... from
the waist down.BIHJ B'is hair is black and curly and
he looks like a Loosianna creole.BIKJ &raynor even
has a manager who resembles 5lvisAs (olonel #arker,
and the character lives in a grand mansion like
9raceland. .alkerAs 9racie +ae "till is based on the
blues and rock singer, .illie +ae &hornton. 2n the
story, 9racie sells &raynor a song for \?DD; his
version of it, closely patterned on hers, becomes a hit
and triggers his rise to fame. 2n =>?E, 5lvis recorded
B'ound 3ogB on the 8(- <ictor label.
He #asn;t my king
For *lac &eo&le, Elvis, more than any
other &erformer, e&itomises the theft of
their music and dance
Helen 0ola#ole
Thursday /ugust )+8 A,,A
The Guardian
-s another celebration of a dead white hero winds
up, in this hallowed .eek of 5lvis, shouldnAt the
entertainment industry hold its own truth and
reconciliation commission0
2t neednAt be a vehicle for retribution, *ust
somewhere where tales of white appropriation of
black culture, not to mention outright theft, can
finally be laid to rest. Following +ichael acksonAs
recent outburst accusing "ony chief, &ony +ottola,
of racism, perhaps he could officiate and champion
all black musicians who have been ripped off by
nasty white music business (56s.
&his wonAt happen of course. +edia arrogance and
dishonesty means we are eternally bound to live in a
skewed world where 5lvis is king of rockAnAroll,
(lapton is the guitar god, "inatra is the voice and
-staire is the greatest dancer. -ccustomed as we are
to this parade of white heroes, the case of 5lvis is
particularly infuriating because for many black
people he represents the most successful white
appropriation of a black genre to date.
5lvis also signifies the foul way so many black
writers and performers, such as Little 8ichard, were
treated by the music industry. &he enduring image
of 5lvis is a constant reflection of societyAs then
refusal to accept anything other than the non%
threatening and subservient negro4 "ammy 3avies
nr and Nat :ing (ole. &he 5lvis myth to this day
clouds the true picture of rockAnAroll and leaves its
many originators without due recognition. "o what is
left for black people to celebrate0 'ow he admirably
borrowed our songs, attitude and dance moves0
#ublic 5nemyAs prolific commentator, (huck 3, was
clear on why he felt compelled to attack the
pretenderAs iconic status. 2n their =>@> song Fight
the #ower, he rapped4 B5lvis was a hero to mostU 7ut
he never meant shit to me you seeU "traight up racist
that sucker was simple and plainU +otherfuck him
and ohn .ayne.B
&o contend that 5lvis was a racist is hardly shocking.
IB&he only thing black people can do for me is shine
my shoes and buy my musicB, he once opined.J -nd,
as a dirt poor "outherner raised in close but separate
proximity to black people, his racism would hardly
have distinguished him from millions of others.
(huck 3As attack was not aimed at 5lvis the person,
but 5lvis the institution.
7ut in the face of much black criticism of 5lvis, some
writers have offered their own theories as to why the
singer should be awarded more, not less accolades.
+ichael & 7ertrandAs 8ace, 8ock and 5lvis contends
that the arrival of 5lvis and rockAnAroll helped white
"outherners to rethink their attitude to race and
gave as yet unacknowledged impetus to the
burgeoning civil rights movement. -nd this week the
3aily +irrorAs &ony #arsons imagined a world
without 5lvis as a cultural armageddon. B5lvis
changed the soul of modern music,B he argues.
B.ithout him, +adonna would be a teacher in
3etroit.B 'e also !uotes ohn LennonAs remark that
Bbefore 5lvis there was nothingB. -n 5lvis%free world
would have seen black music remaining
BundergroundB and BsegregatedB, #arsons suggests.
7ut the reality is, black music never stays
underground. .hite people always seek it out, dilute
it and eventually claim it as their own. From #at
7ooneAs &utti Frutti to current boyband sensations N
"ync and 7lue. &his is fine, but be honest about it.
#utting #arsonsAs vision into practice, letAs imagine
that instead of 5lvis mania, 7ig +omma &hornton %
author of 'ound 3og % reigns supreme with her ode
to no%good men. 7ig +ommaAs cultural con!uest
gives birth to a radical white teen culture and a
36
complete and lasting overhaul of -mericaAs putrid
racial politics. .hite teens frighten their parents
silly with their extreme bids not to become 5lvisAs
pale imitation of the black performers he witnessed,
but the very image of 7ig +omma. "ounds
outlandish0 -ny more audacious than stubbornly
maintaining that this talented % but more
importantly white % man deserves to be king of a
genre created by black people0
.hether we remember him as an obese, drug%addled
misogynist or a hip%swinging rebel, letAs call him
what he is % the all%con!uering great white hope %
and demand the entertainment industry never again
makes such a deceitful claim.
- short story from -lice .alkerAs You (anAt :eep -
9ood .oman 3own holds particular poignancy.
BNineteen Fifty%FiveB begins when an emerging
rockAnAroll star, &raynor, accompanied by his musical
svengali, visits the home of black songstress 9racie
+ay "till. &he svengali tells 9racie4 B&he boy learned
to sing and dance livinA round you people out in the
country. #ractically cut his teeth on you.B &he pair
buy up all of 9racieAs songs and &raynor !uickly
triumphs as the Bemperor of rock and rollB. .alker
tells how little white girls ate him up. B&hey was so
proud. 'e was a genius,B she writes.
7ut many years later, spoilt by wealth, sycophants
and too many chitlins, &raynor revisits 9racie +ay.
&he deflated emperor admits that he hasnAt
understood the meaning behind his greatest hit. 2t is
recommended reading this 5lvis week.
4elen %olawole is a former music editor of Pride
maga+ine
B:ou <ust Can4t 0ee a Good 6oman
7o#nC- /lice 6alker sings the $lues

"frican "merican Review, "ummer, =>>E, by +aria
<. ohnson
6h % ust can,t keep a real good woman down
6h % ust can,t keep a real good woman down
2f you throw me down here #apa, 2 rise up in some
other town I+illerJ
-lice .alker has been profoundly influenced and
inspired both by -frican -merican music and
musicians and by writers whose work is grounded in
music and in the expressive folk traditions of -frican
-mericans. Pora Neale 'urston,s &heir 5yes .ere
.atching 9od and the blues music of blues women
like 7essie "mith rank among .alker,s most
significant musicalUliterary influences.I=J 2n her
words,
+usic is the art 2 most envy... musicians MareN at one
with their cultures and their historical subconscious.
2 am trying to arrive at that place where 7lack music
already is; to arrive at that unself%conscious sense of
collective oneness; that naturalness, that Ieven when
anguishedJ grace. I2n "earch H?>, HECJ
Pora Neale 'urston, 7illie 'oliday, and 7essie
"mith form a sort of unholy trinity. Pora belongs in
the tradition of black women singers, rather than
among /the literati1 .... Like 7illie and 7essie she
followed her own road, believed in her own gods,
pursued her own dreams, and refused to separate
herself from the /common1 people. I2n "earch >=J
&hese influences are most clearly seen in works like
the short story /Nineteen Fifty%five,1 from her =>@=
collection You (an,t :eep - 9ood .oman 3own,
and in her novel &he (olor #urple. 2n /Nineteen
Fifty%five1 and &he (olor #urple, .alker /talks back1
to blues musicians and writers, signifying
extensively on Pora Neale 'urston,s &heir 5yes
.ere .atching 9od as well as on specific musical
pieces of several singerUcomposers. 2n signifying,
following 'enry Louis 9ates,s usage, .alker
/repeats with a difference1 Ixxii%xxiii, xxviiJ
traditional material, revising and personali$ing it,
giving, in the words of "herley -nne .illiams, /a
traditional statement about a traditional situation a
new response1 IKFJ. 2n /Nineteen Fifty%five1 .alker
begins to explore the significance of the female blues
singer and the blues she sings % for creative artists
like herself, for others in the community, and for the
society as a whole. &his exploration is continued in
&he (olor #urple, where .alker probes in more
detail the role of the blues woman as a model and
catalyst for change in her community.
2n /Nineteen Fifty%five1 and &he (olor #urple,
.alker employs the character, language, structure,
and perspective of the blues to celebrate the lives
and works of blues women, to articulate the
complexity of their struggles, and to expose and
confront the oppressive forces facing 7lack women
in -merica. 2n her portraits of blues women, .alker
shows us the vitality, resiliency, creativity, and
spirituality of -frican -merican women,
illuminating the core aesthetic concepts which have
been crucial to their survival in a society that has
largely used and abused them for its own purposes.
2ndeed, in .alker,s works, -frican -merican women
performers and their performances symboli$e
vitality and aliveness, and the will and spirit not only
to endure but potentially to flourish. &he blues
woman, whose song is true to her own experience
and rooted in the values and beliefs of the
community, empowers those who love her and
effects change in those around her. 'er outer
struggles and inner conflicts reflect issues of
oppression in society as they have been internali$ed
within the community.
2n addition to blues characters, .alker employs
blues forms, themes, images, and linguistic
techni!ues. 'er forms % letters and diary entries %
are like blues stan$as in their rich compactness and
self%containedness; like blues pieces, her works take
shape from the repetition and variation of these core
units. .alker,s focus on the complexities and many%
sidedness of love and relationship repeats the
sub*ect of many blues. -s in &heir 5yes and the
blues, paradox and contradiction are explored in the
context of relationships, pro*ected via responses to
the /traditional situations1 of these relationships and
articulated using contrast and oppositional
structures. &he blues women,s motto /You can,t keep
a good woman down,1 which is at the heart of
37
/Nineteen Fifty%five,1 also resonates the struggles
and triumphs of many women in &he (olor #urple.
2n both /Nineteen Fifty%five1 and &he (olor #urple,
.alker repeats and varies many of the core
oppositions, blues images, and linguistic techni!ues
'urston employs in &heir 5yes. Finally, .alker uses
singing and laughter as metaphors for voice, and
uses core songs both to encapsulate primary themes
and to mark significant points in the structure and
thematic development of these pieces. 2n this essay, 2
explore -lice .alker,s use of the blues in the short
story /Nineteen Fifty%five,1 leaving a detailed
examination of the blues in &he (olor #urple for a
forthcoming article.
2n her title, dedication, and epigraph to You (an,t
:eep - 9ood .oman 3own I=>@=J, .alker both
encapsulates the essence of the theme which unites
the stories in the volume and alludes to the
signifyinIgJ relationship of her work, particularly the
story /Nineteen Fifty%five,1 to the lives and work of
several others from the past. .alker,s reference to
/+amie "mith and #erry IYou (an,t :eep - 9ood
+an 3ownJ 7radford1 in her dedication is
particularly important for several reasons. First, it
alludes to an historical event that was especially
significant in both -frican -merican and -merican
music history. +amie "mith,s recording of /You
(an,t :eep - 9ood +an 3own,1 coupled with /&his
&hing (alled Love,1 made on February =C, =>HD, is
the first documented recording of a 7lack woman
singer I"outhern KE?J. #erry 7radford was the
composer and "mith,s manager as well. &he
immediate and overwhelming commercial success of
this recording led directly to more recordings by
+amie "mith, along with the recording of numerous
other -frican -merican women singers, thereby
ushering in the era of the so%called /classic1 blues.
"econd, .alker,s allusion evokes the ironic story
behind this recording, celebrating the remarkable
feat of 7radford himself. 2t was due to the
determination and unflagging persistence of -frican
-merican song writer and entrepreneur #erry
7radford Iwhose nickname was /+ule1J that this
historic recording happened. &he white managers at
6keh 8ecords, after finally agreeing to record his
songs, opposed 7radford,s choice of a 7lack singer;
they urged him to have the popular white singer and
imitator of -frican -merican styles, "ophie &ucker,
sing his songs. Fortunately, at the last minute "ophie
&ucker could not be there; +amie "mith was called
in and history was made ILieb HD, -lbertson KC; see
also 7radfordJ.
6n one level, then, the title of .alker,s short story
collection You (an,t :eep - 9ood .oman 3own
signifies on the title of 7radford,s historic
composition /You (an,t :eep - 9ood +an 3own.1
2n signifying, .alker changes the focus to women.
.hereas /You (an,t :eep - 9ood +an 3own1
acknowledges the power and determination of /good
men,1 .alker,s collection celebrates the strength
and resilience of /good women1 who resist and
persist in the face of abuse. 6n another level,
.alker,s stories of women persisting in You (an,t
:eep - 9ood .oman 3own also signify on
7radford,s /story1 of persistence, a story which he
himself tells in 7orn .ith the 7lues4 'is 6wn "tory.
6n a third level, 9racie +ae and &raynor,s unnamed
song and their story told in /Nineteen Fifty%five1
signify on 7radford,s song and story. 'isUstory is
behind and a part of .alker,s story; both concern
the racist and exploitative phenomenon of white
singers imitating or /covering1 the songs of -frican
-mericans. 2n this regard, .alker,s story /Nineteen
Fifty%five1 and unnamed song signify even more
clearly on the story of .illie +ae /7ig +ama1
&hornton and 5lvis #resley and /their1 song, /'ound
3og1 % perhaps the most famous /cover1 story. I2
shall return to this later.J &hrough multiple levels of
signifying, then, .alker links prominent instances of
this /cover1 phenomenon, exposing the fact of its
repetition throughout -merican history and
reminding us that it is, indeed, /a tradition by now1
I2 Love =J.
.alker,s title also makes close reference to another
song, /You ust (an,t :eep - 9ood .oman 3own1
I=>H@J, a =H%bar blues sung and composed by blues
woman Lillian +iller, which also signifies on
7radford,s /You (an,t :eep - 9ood +an 3own1
I+iller, "mithJ. &he title, theme, and content of
+iller,s song reflect the essence of the empowering
assertion and affirmation found in many women,s
blues, and the theme is a common blues theme
found in several songs by 7essie "mith and others.
+iller,s song testifies to the blues roots of .alker,s
title, theme, and use of signifyinIgJIHJ4
2f you catch me stealin,, #apa please don,t tell on me
MHxN
+y new man has !uit me and 2,m stealin, back to my
used to be
You may see me smilin,, and you may think 2,m glad
Iah, but you don,t knowJ
You may see me smilin,, you may think 2,m glad
7ut you can never tell, the trouble sweet +ama have
had
2 don,t want no man that,s gonna play me and stall
Idon,t mean maybeJ
2 don,t want no man that,s gonna play me and stall
2 *ust want a 3addy, really let me have it all
-ll of you men are, MeverN so hard to please MHxN
You got old and young women, wearin, dresses up
above their
6h % ust can,t keep a real good woman down MHxN
2f you throw me down here #apa, 2 rise up in some
other town
"weet sixteen and 2,ve never been refused
2,m sweet sixteen, never been refused
2,ve got a brand new car 3addy, and it,s never been
used I+illerJ
Like .alker,s title, dedication, and epigraph, the
lyrics of Lillian +iller,s song reflect the essence of
the theme which unites the stories in .alker,s
volume. &he collection shows -frican -merican
women whose spirits will not be crushed, /good
women1 who will not be kept down and who when
thrown down rise up again in some other town. &hey
are women who struggle and suffer a great deal, who
are oppressed but not defeated; women who
command respect and re*ect the mistreatment of
men. Like the blues people alluded to in .alker,s
dedication, they insist /on the value and beauty of
the authentic1; they insist on the value and beauty of
themselves; they insist on being themselves, and
they demand that their needs be accommodated.
3*
2n /Nineteen Fifty%five,1 .alker, too, insists on the
value and beauty of blues women and /authentic1IKJ
blues music, celebrating the vitality of -frican
-merican expressive culture and the resilient
creative spirit of the 7lack woman blues artist. &old
from the blues woman,s perspective in first%person
narration, /Nineteen Fifty%five1 /grounds1 the stories
in the volume, encapsulating and pro*ecting the
essence of the theme which unites them in the
colorful and elo!uent language and voice of the blues
woman narrator. -s in 'urston,s &heir 5yes,
.alker, in /Nineteen Fifty%five,1 sings the blues and
tells the story of the blues through a blues woman
who sings and tells her own story. 2n signifying on
the songs and stories of 7radford, +iller, 'urston,
and &hornton, .alker celebrates and gives voice to
the tradition both by recording it and passing it on,
and by creating her own personal expression within
it.
&he story /Nineteen Fifty%five1 documents the
relationship between 9racie +ae "till, a veteran
blues composer and singer, and &raynor, a young,
white, soon%to%be%rich rock Tn, roll star. &raynor,s
fame and fortune rest on the success of his /cover1
recording in =>??%?E of a 9racie +ae "till
composition dating back to =>HK. 9racie +ae,s
narrative follows their relationship, through visits,
correspondence, and television performances, from
the day &raynor comes to ask for 9racie +ae,s
permission to record the song in =>?? to the day of
&raynor,s death in =>FF. &raynor, /blessed1 with
fame and fortune but plagued by an emptiness and
confusion in both his professional and personal
lives, is drawn to the 7lack female creator of his first
hit record, as he is to her song, in his search for
/authenticity1 and meaning.
&he relationship between 9racie +ae and &raynor
develops as &raynor struggles to understand the
song which has made him famous. &he song and the
composer become the vehicles through which he
seeks meaning in his life. -lthough he is a tragic
figure, unable ever to find himself or to find meaning
in his life, &raynor comes to understand a great deal
about his own unhappiness from his association with
9racie +ae. .alker,s story demonstrates the truth of
'erman 'esse,s statement, given in her epigraph,
that /it is harder to kill something that is spiritually
alive1 I9racie +aeJ /than it is to bring the dead back
to life1 I&raynorJ.
.alker uses blues techni!ues of contrast and ironic
*uxtaposition to articulate discrepancies between
appearances and reality, between what appears to be
and what is, exposing the contradictions and
hypocrisy of the white material world, while
demonstrating the vital and /authentic1 character,
value, and beauty of 9racie +ae and her music.
Using oppositional language and ironic
*uxtaposition, .alker contrasts4 I=J &raynor,s
appearance of material well%being with his reality of
spiritual bankruptcy, IHJ &raynor,s appearance of
extreme and lasting world%wide fame, success, and
popularity I/&he 5mperor of 8ock and 8oll1J with
9racie +ae,s appearance of moderate local fame,
short%lived and long forgotten I/9racie +ae Nobody
from Notasulga1J, and IKJ &raynor,s spiritual reality,
which is empty, confused, and devoid of meaning,
with 9racie +ae,s spiritual reality, which is very
much alive, filled with creativity, and blossoming
with the wisdom of age. .alker /repeats1 this core
opposition between appearances and reality with
variations, articulating it in many guises as the story
develops. 7lackUwhite, richUpoor, famousUunknown,
youngUold, aliveUdead, asleepUawake,
meaningfulUempty, somebodyUnobody,
somethingUnothing are some of the manifestations
this core opposition takes. <ariations of this
opposition are embodied in .alker,s descriptions of
9racie +ae and &raynor4 in their appearances and
the images they pro*ect, in their songs and musical
performances, and in their social interactions.
-s in the blues, .alker,s use of opposition and
contrast occurs within a framework of core materials
which are repeated and varied. - standard blues
piece consists of a series of stan$as each of which
follows a basic harmonic structure I2 2< 2 < 2J and
text form I--7J which is repeated and varied as a
piece progresses to give it a large%scale shape. .ithin
this structure there are core elements % pitches,
contours, images, phrases, lines of text, chords %
which are varied using core means % embellishment,
vibrato, syncopation, timbrai nuance % to create
unlimited possibilities for rendering the same
stan$a, song, or structure. "imilarly, .alker,s
/Nineteen Fifty%five1 is a series of interactions; as the
interaction unit is repeated, the form of the
interaction varies Ivisits, television performances,
lettersJ. &he story is also a se!uence of diary entries
distinguished by date. 3iary entries provide
structural frames in which the various forms of
interaction are set Isee figure on p. HHEJ. +oreover,
behind the interaction unit there is a core
relationship % that between 9racie +ae and &raynor
% as well as a core song % which connects the two
even before they have met. 2n subse!uent visits,
correspondence, and performances, this core /tune1
is repeated and embellished as &raynor discovers
pieces of the song,s meaning, as core images
Ipro*ected by &raynor and 9racie +aeJ are
elaborated, and as new /takes1 on the core
oppositions are made.
-s in the blues, it is by exposing core materials %
themes, characters, relationships, oppositions %
again and again in varied forms, in interaction after
interaction, that .alker brings her readers to a
deeper understanding of their significance. -s in the
blues, .alker,s story takes shape in a way which
both indulges in and transcends the repetitions at
the core of its formal structure.
&he story culminates with 9racie +ae and &raynor,s
*oint appearance on &he ohnny (arson "how.
"tructurally ingenious, this /final1 performance
provides a forum for elements of music, image, and
social dynamics to come together. &his
socialUmusical interaction provides an ideal stage for
-lice .alker to dramati$e the core oppositions of the
story and the contrasting aesthetic values,
perspectives, and personalities of two vastly different
individuals and cultures. 2t is important to the
structural development of .alker,s story that both
9racie +ae and &raynor sing /their1 song on the
same stage, and especially significant that they do
not sing it together, but rather each in turn. &his
*uxtaposition of performances is both essential to
.alker,s dramatic illumination of contrast, and also
3+
symbolic of the walls that separate and divide the
two individuals and cultures.
-s in the blues, .alker uses /personification1 as a
structural vehicle to explore a wide range of issues
and experiences of struggle and conflict. -s 2 would
argue that the blues personifies struggle by
pro*ecting issues of struggle vis%a%vis relationship
dynamics and articulating responses to
relationships, .alker uses the relationship between
two characters % their interactions and responses % as
a vehicle to M&-7UL-8 3-&- 6+2&&53N explore
the differences and conflicts between two cultures.
+oreover, by *uxtaposing the aesthetic approaches
of 9racie +ae and &raynor % the process of signifying
or /repetition with a difference1 with that of
imitation or direct repetition % .alker examines
implications of these cultural differences and the
barriers to developing relationships across
differences in the context of a racist and patriarchal
society.
-t the beginning of the story, &raynor and his music
agent come to 9racie +ae,s house to get permission
to record her song and to buy up all of the copies of
her record of the song. 2n this first interaction
.alker performs several variations on the
opposition between appearances and reality, using
contrast in her descriptions of these two characters
to evoke 9racie +ae,s wariness of the duo, her
difference from them, and the boundaries she
creates between herself and these white people she
does not know who want something of hers. 9racie
+ae calls &raynor,s music agent /the deacon1
because he is dressed like a 7aptist deacon. 2n
naming him /the deacon,1 .alker suggests the
discrepancy between his outer affect % one who goes
about serving and saving souls % and his true motive
% to make money off of -frican -merican musicians.
'er description also contrasts the deacon,s looks
IcreepyJ with his manner IpleasantJ. "ignificantly, it
is the deacon,s eyes which most expressively embody
this discrepancy between appearance and reality4
'is cold gray eyes look like they,re sweating.... 2
wonder if sweat makes your eyeballs pink because
his are sure pink. #ink and gray and it strikes me
that nobody 2,d care to know is behind them. IC%?J
&he deacon /appears1 to be a contradiction. 'is
/cold grayUsweaty pink1 eyes make him appear
untrustworthy. &hrough her description of the
deacon,s eyes, 9racie +ae conveys her uneasiness
with him and the hypocrisy he carries. #roviding
access to the reality behind the appearance, his eyes
warn her to be on her guard.
6n the other hand, 9racie +ae,s description of this
first encounter contrasts &raynor with the deacon.
.hile the deacon is an older gentleman with a
smooth and talkative manner, &raynor is young,
awkward, and non%verbal. &he older man does all of
the talking and negotiating;1 ... the boy MmerelyN
grunts his awareness of the transaction....1 &raynor,s
only attempt to speak produces what 9racie +ae
describes as /something 2 can,t catch in a pitch 2
don,t register1 ICJ. 2n *uxtaposing &raynor with the
deacon, .alker sets into relief &raynor,s powerless
dependency and lack of voice, using the metaphor of
voice to suggest his loss of agency and lack of
grounding. -t the same time, .alker,s description
highlights the cultural differences and
communication gap between 9racie +ae and
&raynor.
&raynor,s appearance also embodies contradiction.
.e glimpse this when 9racie +ae first sees &raynor
doing her song on television. "he describes him in
terms of an opposition % asleepUawake. 'e looks
/half asleep from the neck up, but kind of awake in a
nasty way from the waist down1 IEJ. 2nternally,
spiritually dead, &raynor,s sexuality appears to be
split off, externali$ed, something that he is /wearing1
% apart from him, not a part of him. 2ronically, it is
this aspect of his appearance his ob*ectification of
sexuality % rather than the song itself to which the
audience responds4 /'e wasn,t doing too bad with
my song either, but it wasn,t *ust the song the people
in the audience was screeching and screaming over,
it was that nasty little *erk he was doing from the
waist down1 IE%FJ.
2n &raynor,s second visit to 9racie +ae, &raynor and
the 3eacon are opposed again, exposing another
discrepancy in &raynor,s appearance. Using ironic
*uxtaposition, .alker contrasts &raynor,s other%
defined /deacon%imposed1 television image Ihis on%
camera appearanceJ with the more /presentable1 self
which he brings to 9racie +ae,s Ihis off%camera
appearanceJ4 /6n the &< he was inclined to dress
like the deacon told him. 7ut now he looked
presentable1 IFJ.
2n subse!uent visits, as &raynor,s wealth and fame
grow, .alker intensifies her descriptions of the
discrepancy between &raynor,s appearance of
material well%being and the reality of his spiritual
bankruptcy. 2n addition, she begins directly to
contrast the characters of 9racie +ae and &raynor,
using /their1 song as a metaphor to probe !uestions
of meaning and spiritual well%being. -s &raynor
lacks voice, he also lacks his own song % a song which
resonates his own life experience. 2n =>ED, in a letter
to 9racie +ae, &raynor articulates the connection
between singing and living4 /2,ve been thinking
about writing some songs of my own but every time 2
finish one it don,t seem to be about nothing 2,ve
actually lived myself1 I==J. &o write and sing his own
song is to give voice to himself and meaning to his
life. "ince he lacks his own song, his life lacks
meaning.
2n contrast, the song that 9racie +ae sings is
meaningful and /true,1 more so at the time of the
story than when she wrote and first sang the song,
because it resonates her experience. "he says, /... if 2
was to sing that song today 2,d tear it up.... &hem
words could hold me up1 I=CJ. 'er language evokes
the strength and empowerment that come from
/telling it like it is,1 singing her truth and giving
voice to her experiences through song. 9racie +ae
teaches that, like the song itself, a song,s meaning is
not inherent or fixed. 2t grows and changes with
time, with shifting contexts and new experiences.
+eaning varies from one performer and audience
member to the next, and emerges anew in each
performance, deepening with the wisdom of lived
experience and age. -s 7ernice ohnson 8eagon says
of singing in the -frican -merican tradition, /&he
songs are free and they have the meaning placed in
them by the singers1 IHJ.
.hen &raynor comes to visit 9racie +ae in =>E@,
.alker,s exploration of the discrepancy between his
4,
appearance of material wealth and spiritual vacuity
takes on new dimensions. 2n her language, .alker
embodies several layers of opposition and ironic
inversion. First, the connections between wealth and
appearances and the appearance of wealth with
deceit are ironically embodied in .alker,s
description of the arrival of &raynor and his
entourage4 /.ith wings they could pass for angels,
with hoods they could be the :lan1 I==J. 5voking the
same sense of wariness evidenced in 9racie +ae,s
initial description of the 3eacon, the reality
encapsulated in this compact blues line is that :lan
members do pass for angels in this society, as racist
religion passes for spirituality, and record agents
pass for deacons, greedy men for saviors. .alker
suggests the close connection between wealth and
deceit in -merican society, as exemplified in the
music business.
"econd, .alker contrasts &raynor,s lack of vital
substance with 9racie +ae,s strong personal
presence, articulating an ironic inversion. &raynor,
the one who appears materially weighted down and
solid, is in reality lacking in substance, amorphous, a
body without soul; conversely, 9racie +ae, who does
not depend on material things, is solid, defined,
boundaried, a body with a soul. 2n contrast to
&raynor, whose /eyes weren,t right1 and who 9racie
+ae describes as /something ... sitting there talking
to me but not necessarily with a person behind it1
I=KJ, 9racie +ae /looks distinguished. You see me
coming and know somebody,s there1 I=HJ. 7y
italici$ing thing, 9racie +ae underscores &raynor,s
lack of vitality; by italici$ing there, she highlights his
lack of presence. -s with the 3eacon, &raynor,s eyes
provide an entre into the spiritual reality behind the
appearance. Like his eyes, &raynor,s laugh also lacks
life4
'e laughs. &he first time 2 ever heard him laugh. 2t
don,t sound much like a laugh and 2 can,t swear that
it,s better than no laugh a,tall.
&hen he laughs again4 /.hat did it sound like0 2
couldn,t place it1 I=HJ. Like his voice during the first
visit, &raynor,s laugh does not register. Like his eyes,
his laugh is empty. Like +r. &urner,s laugh in
'urston,s &heir 5yes IH=C%=?J, &raynor,s laugh is
powerless and vanishing; it lacks soul. For both
'urston and .alker, laughter symboli$es vitality. &o
laugh % really laugh % is to be responsive, to be alive
and really living. Loss of laughter and an inability to
laugh indicate a loss of life, a loss of self. - solid,
grounded, full%powered laugh, like the voice that
sings its own song, reflects the personality, the
/somebody,1 behind it.
&hird, using 9racie +ae,s relationship with 7essie
"mith as a metaphor, .alker explores the !uestion
of fame in relation to spiritual health, exposing a
threefold opposition and a second ironic inversion.
.alker identifies 9racie +ae with obscure -frican
-merican creative artists like Lillian +iller. "he does
not become famous in the way either 7essie "mith or
&raynor did. -s .alker contrasts &raynor with
9racie +ae, she also contrasts 7essie "mith with
9racie +ae. 9racie +ae and 7essie "mith fight,
because 7essie, like &raynor, wants to sing 9racie
+ae,s song, but 9racie +ae thinks that, like herself,
7essie should stick with her own songs, her own
experience, and become famous for her own songs,
her own self. /(ouldn,t be nothing worse than being
famous the world over for something you don,t even
understand1 I=CJ.
7y /insisting on the value and beauty of the
authentic,1 .alker opposes any sacrifice of self to
make money or ac!uire fame. 2n /Nineteen Fifty%
five1 .alker probes the !uestion /.hat does it mean
to be Tsomeone,01 'er story suggests that a person
living for fame, fortune, and being known often
sacrifices her or his humanity for a thing, whereas to
be yourself, sing your own song, live your own life is
to be somebody. &he inversion .alker dramati$es,
also an important manifestation of the
appearanceUreality opposition, is that a /nobody1
Ione who is not famousJ is often more somebody
Iher% or himselfJ than a /somebody1 Ione who is
famousJ, because that person is more likely to be
spiritually grounded rather than materially
obsessed. .e hear .alker playing on this three%
pronged opposition when 9racie +ae says, /7y then
she was +iss 7essie "mith to the .orld, and 2 was
still 9racie +ae Nobody from Notasulga1 I=CJ. 'ere
.alker also puns on 9racie +ae,s last name % /"till1
and /still.1 7oth 7essie "mith and &raynor were
famous, while 9racie +ae was not. 7oth 7essie
"mith and &raynor are dead and died young;
&raynor lost his somebodyness among /things.1 2n
contrast, 9racie +ae Nobody is 9racie +ae sU"till;
she is alive in spirit as well as in body % and
somebody, as she has always been and always will
be.
.alker,s exploration of materialism culminates in
9racie +ae,s visit to &raynor,s house in =>E@, where
we see for the first time his home environment.
.alker captures the vastness of &raynor,s material
wealth in her humorous and exaggerated description
of 9racie +ae,s experience of the *ourney to visit
him, which makes use of personification as well as
hyperbole4 .hen they finally get to the kitchen, the
first thing 9racie +ae notices /is that, altogether,
there are five stoves. 'e looks about to introduce me
to one1 I=EJ. 7y pro*ecting 9racie +ae,s response to
&raynor,s mountain castle, .alker intensifies her
examination of the contrasts between their lifestyles,
as well as her probing of the spiritual reality behind
&raynor,s appearance of material well%being. 7y
exaggerating and personifying &raynor,s material
wealth, and *uxtaposing these images with images in
which &raynor appears ob*ectified, .alker
caricatures an inversion between person and ob*ect
which dramati$es the contrast between &raynor,s
material wealth and spiritual destitution, and the
discrepancies between appearance and reality. .e
see how /too much1 and /too big1 can be oppressive
and alienating, obstructing and obscuring one,s
relationship to oneself and to others. 2ronically,
&raynor,s too much room Ifive floors, a whole
mountainJ results in too little space for himself.
.alker,s articulation of the opposition between
appearances and reality and dramati$ation of the
contrasts between 9racie +ae and &raynor reach a
peak in the final interaction when the two appear
together on &he ohnny (arson "how I=>E@J.
(ontrasts occur on several levels at once4 I=J how
9racie +ae and &raynor look and their attitudes
toward how they look, IHJ their performances of
/their1 song and their approaches to singing, and IKJ
41
the audience,s responses to their performances and
their reactions to the audience response.
&raynor is all corseted down, trying to appear thin,
while 9racie +ae, having failed to lose weight, has
/had ... a very big dress made1 I=@J. &raynor,s
approach is to try to hide this aspect of his physical
reality, while 9racie +ae acknowledges it and works
with it, bringing style to it. 2t is as if &raynor is trying
to appear as he did in =>?E. "econd, in her
*uxtaposition of their performances, .alker captures
the vast differences between their approaches to
singing and attitudes toward it. 3escribing her own
performance, 9racie +ae says4
... 2 sound % wonderful. 7eing able to sing good ain,t
all about having a good singing voice a,tall. - good
singing voice helps. 7ut when you come up in the
'ard "hell 7aptist church like 2 did you understand
early that the fellow that sings is the singer. &hem
that waits for programs and arrangements and
letters from home is *ust good voices occupying body
space.... 2 am singing my own song, my own way.
-nd 2 give it all 2,ve got and en*oy every minute of it.
I=@J
3escribing &raynor,s performance, she says4
... he sings it *ust the way he always did. +y voice,
my tone, my inflection, everything. 7ut he forgets a
couple of lines. I=@%=>J
7y *uxtaposing the two contrasting performances,
.alker sets into relief important elements of 9racie
+ae,s background and the aesthetic principles and
values which are reflected in her singing. .alker,s
passage vividly illustrates ethnomusicologist
+ellonee 7urnim,s contention I=?>J that
performance symboli$es and generates a sense of
vitality in -frican -merican culture. 2n detailing
what makes for a /wonderful sound1 in the -frican
-merican tradition, 9racie +ae suggests that it is
not the !uality of the voice itself so much as the
spirit of the person behind it that makes for the good
singer. "he speaks of the importance of the church
and the integral role it plays in the everyday life of
the 7lack community. &he name /'ard "hell 7aptist
church1 signifies the groundedness and durability of
the 7lack church as a stabili$ing force in the -frican
-merican community. &he name also alludes to the
sanctuary which the church has provided -frican
-mericans historically. 6n a third level, /'ard "hell1
suggests the role of the 7lack church in providing
lessons in survival and teaching music as a strategy
of struggle.
9racie +ae also speaks of the importance of being
present in the moment and being moved by the
spirit, and alludes to the traditional process of
/learning MmusicN by doing.1 -gain illustrating core
-frican -merican aesthetics identified by 7urnim
I=?>, =EHJ, she speaks of the importance of
individuality and personal expression % of making a
song her own and creating it anew in each
performance % and of the necessity for total personal
involvement, for putting all of herself into each
performance and singing for her self and for her own
en*oyment.
9racie +ae contrasts her own spiritual approach
with /good voices occupying body space,1 which, in
its use of ob*ectification, alludes to &raynor,s
somethingness and material approach. -s is clear
from 9racie +ae,s description of his performance,
&raynor is still copying 9racie +ae, as he was in
=>?E4 /side streets, avenues, red lights, train
crossings and all1 IFJ. 2n =>E@ he copies himself in
=>?E copying 9racie +ae in =>HK. 'e does nothing
musically to make it his own song. 'e is not en*oying
himself, nor is he present with the music in the
moment. 2n his contempt for his audience and for
himself and in his disgust with the audience,s
response, he forgets a couple of lines of the song.
7y *uxtaposing the two performances, .alker also
illuminates several levels of contrast in the
audienceUperformer dynamics. 6n the one hand, the
audience responds to &raynor with the same
/matronly s!ueals1 as in =>?E, but shows little
interest in 9racie +ae. 6n the other hand, while the
audience claps politely for about two seconds for
9racie +ae, &raynor stands and claps and claps and
beams at 9racie +ae and at the audience /like MsheN
his mama for true1 I=@J. &he reactions of 9racie +ae
and &raynor to their audience,s responses are also
vastly different. .hen &raynor gives 9racie +ae a
hug, the audience laughs, responding to the contrast
in appearance between the two. 9racie +ae smiles,
acknowledging the comical aspect of the moment,
while &raynor gets mad. &raynor again becomes
angry and disgusted at the audience,s responses to
the two performances and feels defeated, whereas
9racie +ae, undaunted by the audience, consoles
&raynor as a mother would a child.
2n sum, &raynor concerns himself with the responses
of an audience of people he feels contempt for but
does not know; he surrounds himself regularly with
people he cares little for and does not know. 'e eats
and sleeps with people he does not know % including
his wife. 2n contrast, 9racie +ae surrounds herself
with the people she loves and knows, trying only to
make the people she knows and cares about happy.
"he concerns herself with pleasing her audience
insofar as they are people she /knows.1 #leasing
them means singing out of her own experience,
insisting on the value and beauty of her own
experience and her own voice, and pleasing herself
first. 9racie +ae,s audience was small, it was honest,
it was intimate. Like +a 8ainey, she /really knew
these people1 ILieb =FJ. -nd they responded to the
truth she put out, which resonated their own
experience. 'er singing /made the dirt farmers cry
like babies and the womens shout 'oney, hushL1 IEJ.
2n contrast, &raynor,s audience is huge, dishonest,
and undiscriminating, /on him like white on rice1
I>J.
-s 2 suggested at the beginning of this essay, -lice
.alker,s fictional character &raynor bears a clear
relationship to the real%life figure 5lvis #resley. 2n
her characteri$ation of &raynor, .alker /repeats1
many aspects of #resley,s appearance and career,
including the following.ICJ #resley began recording
in =>?C, *ust out of high school. 7y =>?E, his records
were reaching number one on the pop charts, and he
was fast becoming a wealthy man. .hile still a
young man he was hailed as /&he :ing of 8ock Tn,
8oll.1I?J 'e also made numerous movies and
television appearances. 'e was drafted into the army
in +arch =>?@, served much of his time in 9ermany,
and was discharged in +arch =>ED. 'e was known
to give generous gifts % cars, televisions, diamond
rings % to family members, friends, fans, and
42
ac!uaintances. 'e was also known to travel with his
entourage in a fleet of (adillacs which were always
on hand. 2t was the /wiggle1 movement /5lvis the
#elvis1 made with his hips in those first
performances of fast 8 Y 7 numbers that led the
young white women and girls to scream and shout
for more. 'e was married, divorced, and had
numerous short%lived relationships with women. 'e
gained a great deal of weight in his later years,
tipping the scales at H?D pounds in -ugust =>FF
when he died of heart failure related to drug use at
the age of CH.
&hroughout #resley,s career, his success was largely
due to his numerous /covers1 of 8 Y 7 records by
-frican -merican composers and performers. .hile
#resley made an enormous amount of money singing
and recording the songs of -frican -mericans, the
-frican -merican originators saw very little. &his
longstanding /tradition1 of racism and exploitation
in the -merican music industry, which appeared in a
slightly different guise in the classic blues era, dates
back to minstrelsy, when white men in blackface
imitated -frican -mericans I&ollJ. 2n the case of
rock Tn, roll, as .alker suggests in her descriptions
of &raynor,s copying 9racie +ae,s song IF, =@J, white
performers like 5lvis often copied the records they
covered down to the details of the arrangements and
the dance movements that went with them. .hen
5lvis sang 7lack music, white audiences ate it up.
"am #hillips of "un records, who had recorded 7lack
8 Y 7 performers for years, knew that if he could
find a white man who could sing 7lack music like an
-frican -merican, he could make a star and a killing.
'e did both with 5lvis I9oldman ==DJ. #resley
learned the blues from listening to -rthur /7ig 7oy1
(rudup, 8oy 7rown, and other -frican -merican
musicians in &upelo, +ississippi, where he grew up.
'is first two records made in =>?C were covers of
(rudup,s blues piece /&hat,s -ll 8ight,1 originally
recorded in =>CE, and 8oy 7rown,s 8 Y 7 hit /9ood
8ockin, &onight,1 originally recorded in =>CF. 7ut it
was #resley,s cover of /'ound 3og1 in =>?E, a song
originally recorded in =>?H by 8 Y 7 singer .illie
+ae /7ig +ama1 &hornton, which became a million%
seller and sent him to the top of the national charts
I(otten >=J.IEJ
.hile .alker,s character 9racie +ae differs
somewhat from the real%life blues figure and
originator of 5lvis,s million%seller record /'ound
3og,1 some notable similarities exist between the
two. &he late great .illie +ae /7ig +ama1 &hornton
is a contemporary 8 Y 7 legend whose career reflects
the continuance of the blues tradition from the
=>CDs through the =>@Ds. 'er exceptional voice and
powerful presence, and the image she pro*ected,
exerted considerable influence on many % 5lvis
#resley and anis oplin among them. /7ig +ama1
&hornton combined the !ualities of several
generations of the best country and /classic1 blues
women. (hris "trachowit$, who recorded and
publici$ed her in the =>EDs, called her /the greatest
female blues singer of any decade.1 "trachowit$,s
description of her aesthetic approach to singing
matches the essential !ualities of .alker,s character
to a tee. 'e says4
-t all times 7ig +ama is herself % she doesn,t try to
be anybody else.... 7ig +ama sings music she feels %
songs which have meaning for her % blues which
deals with everyday life as she experienced it.... 7ig
+ama makes Ma songN into her own personal
expression. ILiner notesJ
&hulani 3avis,s description of 7ig +ama,s
performance in the =>@D concert 7lues 2s - .oman,
which occurred alongside classic blues legend "ippie
.allace and others, also captures something of the
individual !uality of her voice, presence, and image4
&he concert,s finest moment was 7ig +ama
&hornton, who sported a man,s K%piece suit
Icompletely offsetting all the se!uins and chiffonJ
topped with a straw hat and showing a man,s gold
watch. "he sat at stage center and talked and played
a few pieces she wanted to play Inot on the
programJ.... she wore out the harmonica Y wailed Y
rocked the house. "he set the standard for what it,s
all about. "he was the woman who left home, left
home early, and she reminded me of a song they say
was sung way back before =>=D that women blues
singers took over as their own4 /-in,t nobody,s
bi$ness if 2 do.1 I3avis ?E; emphasis addedJ
Like 9racie +ae, .illie +ae /7ig +ama1 &hornton
was a big woman for most of her life, weighing some
KDD pounds in =>E? I"trachowit$J.IFJ +oreover, the
name 9racie +ae itself suggests some connection to
.illie +ae &hornton.
6ne difference between character and real%life singer
is that 7ig +ama &hornton did not compose /'ound
3og1; the popular songwriting team Lieber and
"toller did that. Nevertheless, as "trachowit$,s
comments suggest, she made the song her own in
performance, embellishing the text and adding a
humorous ad lib monologue. - second difference is
that .alker,s character, 9racie +ae "till, made her
original recording of the unnamed song in =>HK,
while &hornton recorded /'ound 3og1 in =>?H.
.alker,s character is a /classic1 blues singer and
composer, a contemporary friend and rival of 7essie
"mith, whereas &hornton was an 8 Y 7 performer
and composer. Yet, like 7ig +ama &hornton, 9racie
+ae "till embodies several generations of blues
women. 2n the character of 9racie +ae, .alker
celebrates the long /herstorical1 tradition of the
blues and the lives and work of its 7lack female
creators, from 7essie "mith to .illie +ae /7ig
+ama1 &hornton, -retha Franklin, and beyond.
-s 9racie +ae embodies many singers, her song
embodies many songs. -lthough .alker uses three
blanks I%%%%% %%%%% %%%%%J, loosely suggesting a three%
word title, she chooses not to specify the song,s title
because it could be many songs, and its meaning
extends beyond the particulars of any one song. I@J
-t the same time, .alker,s story would appear to
signify on the song /'ound 3og,1 and, in any case,
an examination of the song provides an interesting
reading of aspects of the story,s meaning.
You ain,t nothin, but a hound dog, been snoopin,
Tround my door MHxN
You can wag your tail, but 2 ain,t gonna feed you no
more.
You told me you was high class, but 2 could see
through that
Yes, you told me you was high class, but 2 could see
through that
-nd 3addy 2 know, you ain,t no real cool cat.
43
You made me feel so blue, you made me weep and
moan
You made me feel so blue, yeah you made me weep
and moan
T(ause you ain,t lookin, for a woman, all you,re
lookin, is for a home. I&horntonJ
&he song,s image of the hound dog wagging and
snooping suggests the deceitful, low%down ways of a
/no%good1 man, whose outward appearance and
initial words and gestures are contradicted by the
reality of his intentions and his ultimate behavior.
'e acts friendly I/wags his tail1J as though he cares
for the singer personally, but that,s only because he
wants something Ifood, sex, a homeJ. .hile he tells
her he is respectable, committed, and able and
willing to pull his weight I/high class1J, experience
tells her that she should be wary.
&he blues image of the hound dog from 7ig +ama
&hornton,s song becomes a core image in .alker,s
story. -t a moment of clarity and despair, inspired
by his exchanges with 9racie +ae, &raynor says to
her4
&hey want what you got but they don,t want you.
&hey want what 2 got only it ain,t mine. &hat,s what
makes Tem so hungry for me when 2 sing. &hey
getting the flavor of something but they ain,t getting
the thing itself. &hey like a pack of hound dogs trying
to gobble up a scent. I=FJ
-t this moment &raynor comes closest to singing his
own blues song. 'is words contain the contrast, the
paradox, the ironic *uxtaposition and inversion, and
even the sensual imagery and feeling of the blues.
&he language is reminiscent of 'urston,s description
of 3aisy 7lunt in &heir 5yes, in which she contrasts
the white and black in 3aisy,s clothes, eyes, and hair,
using sensual and sexually suggestive blues imagery
to celebrate 3aisy,s 7lack femaleness and to
articulate an -frican -merican image of beauty I=D?%
DEJ.
2n the same way in which 'urston discusses 3aisy,s
black hair having a white flavor, .alker describes
white music having a 7lack flavor. &raynor,s white
audience gobbles up the 7lack flavor that the white
singer I&raynorJ copying the 7lack singer I9racie
+aeJ is putting out. .hile &raynor refers in the
hound dog passage to his young white audience, he
also speaks of his own position and relation to
9racie +ae,s song. &raynor, too, has got the flavor of
the song and has /gobbled up MitsN scent.1 'e,s onto
some part of the song,s meaning, and beginning to
comprehend his own life % but the full meaning of
the song, the life, and the experience behind the
song still eludes him. &he image of the hound dog
describes &raynor,s pursuit of 9racie +ae, his
pursuit of the song,s meaning, and his pursuit of self;
it also describes his pursuit of fame and fortune and
his attempts at relationships and marriage4
2t was like singing somebody else,s record. 2 copied
the way it was supposed to be exactly but 2 never had
a clue what marriage meant.... 2 never could s!uee$e
any of my own life either into it or out of it. I=KJ
2n both 7ig +ama &hornton,s song and -lice
.alker,s story, the hound dogs I&raynor, white
people, menJ want what the 7lack woman,s got, but
they don,t want her. &hey /ain,t lookin, for a woman,
MtheyN lookin, for a home.1 &hey,re hungry for food;
they,re gobbling up a scent. &hey,re pursuing
something, not someone; the flavor of something,
not the thing itself; the appearance of things, not the
people behind them; material comfort rather than
spiritual well%being.
&raynor in all his wealth and fame Iin the words of
&hornton,s songJ appears to be /high class,1 and he
attempts to share this status with 9racie +ae,
buying her cars and houses and appliances and
more, but as the song says, she /seeMsN through that1
and /knowMs heN ain,t no real cool cat.1 "he says no
thank you to his lifestyle. "he appreciates a brand
new (adillac and wouldn,t mind waking up to
homemade cornbread every morning, but as for a
house with a kitchen with five stoves and a long hike
to the porch and people she doesn,t even know all
around her, she says thanks but no thanks I=E%=FJ.
2n signifying on the song and story of 7ig +ama
&hornton, 5lvis #resley, and /'ound 3og,1 .alker,s
crucial /difference1 comes in the fact that &raynor
seeks to understand the meaning of the song he
sings by pursuing his relationship with its creator. -
clue to .alker,s interest in 5lvis and to the
significance of her fictional development of the
relationship between &raynor and 9racie +ae in
/Nineteen Fifty%five1 appears in her fourth novel,
&he &emple of +y Familiar I=>@>J. 'ere 6la Ian
6linkan manJ and Fanny N$ingha Ihis -frican
-merican daughterJ discuss 6la,s ideas for a play
about 5lvis #resley. 6la clearly perceives 5lvis to be
Native -merican in aspects of his dress Ibuckskin,
fringe, silverJ and in aspects of his appearance Ithick
black hair, full lipsJ, and culturally *ust /as black as
the other white people in +ississippi.1 6la and
Fannie imagine 5lvis,s little bump and grind as
originally a movement of the circle dance, and his
hiccupy singing style as once a war whoop or an
2ndian love call. 6la listens to 5lvis /to hear where
commercial and mainstream cultural success takes
people, a part of whose lineage is hidden even from
themselves, in a country that insists on racial,
cultural and historical amnesia, if you wake up one
century and find yourself Twhite.,1 6la says4 /in
M5lvisN white -mericans found a reason to express
their longing and appreciation for the repressed
Native -merican and 7lack parts of themselves1
I=@@J. 6la suggests that the weeping of white
maidens over 5lvis,s death is white -merica,s
weeping over the loss of /the other1 both within
themselves and without I=@>J.
2ndeed, in the character of &raynor, .alker herself
explores !uestions of success and identity, using the
image and story of 5lvis #resley as a vehicle. 6la,s
comments in &emple suggest that part of &raynor,s
attraction to 9racie +ae and his search for the
meaning of her song is his longing for the lost
-frican -merican parts of himself which are
embodied in his /Loosianna creole1 features ICJ,
while part of his audience,s hungry adulation is
white -merica,s longing for the cut%off and repressed
-frican -merican part of themselves.
2n /Nineteen Fifty%five,1 as in &emple, .alker
explores the idea that /human beings want, above all
else, to love each other freely regardless of tribe1
I=@>J and recogni$es musicians, efforts to bridge the
gap. 2n &emple, for example, through the character
of +iss Lissie, .alker acknowledges the efforts of
anis oplin, whose immediate musical /momma1
44
was also 7ig +ama &hornton. I/&heir1 song was
/7all Tn, (hain.1J +iss Lissie says4 /"he knew 7essie
"mith was her momma, and she sang her guts out
trying to tear open that closed door between them1
IKE>J. 2n /Nineteen Fifty%five,1 .alker similarly uses
this motherUchild image to describe the relationship
which develops between 9racie +ae and &raynor IF%
@, =@J. 2n pursuing the meaning of 9racie +ae,s song
through developing a relationship with its creator,
&raynor begins to know himself as he begins to know
9racie +ae.
2t seems to me that .alker, 2n /Nineteen Fifty%five,1
uses a blues mode to sow the seeds for her explicit
criti!ue of essentialist notions of identity in &he
&emple of +y Familiar. -fter several centuries of
cohabitation in the "outhern U.". Inot to mention
the centuries of contact in 5urope, -frica, -sia, and
elsewhere before thatJ, .alker argues, white and
7lack Iand NativeJ cultures can no longer be
realistically considered independent or /pure1; and,
in this context, the maintenance of strict definitions
of individuals as 7lack or white becomes absurd.
.alker teaches that these prescriptive definitions
not only keep people from one another but, as
exemplified in the case of &raynor, often tragically
keep people from themselves.
1otes
=. &his article is a revision of a chapter from my dissertation, /<oices
of "truggle4 -n 5xploration of the 8elationship 7etween -frican
-merican .omen,s +usic and Literature,1 U of (alifornia%7erkeley,
=>>H.
H. 2 am not suggesting that .alker knew of the existence of +iller,s
song or had actually heard the recording, nor am 2 suggesting that
.alker was consciously signifying on +iller,s songUtitle. 2t is highly
likely, however, that +iller, recording in =>H@ Ilike .alker writing
todayJ, was aware of 7radford,s song, if not from +amie "mith,s
recording in =>HD then from the circulation of the song which that
popular recording would have generated, and that she wes in some
sense consciously signifyinIgJ on it. &he theme itself is a common
blues theme reflected in many songs by 7essie "mith and others, and
.alker undoubtedly knew that. +iller,s recording testifies to the
cultural groundedness of .alker,s blues, as well as to the fact that the
signifyinIgJ process itself operates within the blues tradition.
K. 2t seems to me that .alker,s use of the term authentic here is not so
much indicative of an essentialist view of -frican -merican culture as
it is about individuals, being true to themselves and the primary
agents of their own lives. For .alker, it is not so much the presence or
absence of /7lackness1 and /7lack1 style that makes for /authentic1
blues music as it is the presence or absence of vitality, of purpose, of
oneself in one,s lifeUperformance. &he /7lack sound1 in and of itself
can signify neither /7lackness1 nor meaning.
C. &he details of 5lvis #resley,s life and career that follow are compiled
from (otten and 9oldman.
?. &he name &raynor suggests an apprentice % one who is in training %
which in .alker,s story is &raynor,s relationship to 9racie +ae. -s
5lvis was known by many by his first name only, &raynor is not given a
last name in .alker,s story. 'is lack of a last name is perhaps also
indicative of his lack of cultural and personal grounding and identity.
E. - more detailed look at 5lvis #resley,s life would reveal many more
similarities as well as many differences between 5lvis and .alker,s
character, and suggest additional interpretations of the details of
.alker,s story. 'owever, this is beyond the scope of this article.
F. .hile &hornton was a big woman during her prime, she lost a great
deal of weight in the last years of her life when she was hospitali$ed for
sickness related to alcohol abuse; her early deterioration and untimely
death in =>@C at the age of ?@ were largely due to alcohol abuse. &his
paints a reality grimmer than .alker,s story. 2n &he (olor #urple,
.alker begins to explore the physical and psychological toll which
involvement in the music business, racism, sexism, life on the road,
and lack of familial support could and did take on -frican -merican
female performers.
@. "imilarly, in &he (olor #urple, .alker does not specify +r. %%%%%,s
last name because he could be many men; there are many like him.
45
#
9a"id Wong &ouie
3avid .ong Louie was
born and raised in New
York. 'e received a
7achelor,s 3egree in
5nglish from <assar
(ollege and an +F-
from the University of
2owa. 'is first book, the
story collection Pangs
of Love, won &he Los
-ngeles &imes 7ook
8eview First Fiction
-ward, the #loughshares
First Fiction 7ook
-ward, was a New York
&imes 7ook 8eview Notable of =>>= and a <oice
Literary "upplement Favorite of =>>=. Louie is
currently an -ssociate #rofessor at the 3epartment
of 5nglish and the -sian%-merican "tudies (enter at
U(L-. 'e lives in <enice, (alifornia with his wife
and son.
"tudies4 +.F.-. (reative .riting, &he University of
2owa, =>@=; 7.-. <assar (ollege, =>FF
2nterests4 -sian -merican "tudies, (reative .riting
"elected #ublications4 The Barbarians Are
Coming, HDDD; Pangs of Love, =>>=.
The Bar$arians /re Coming
Feast or famine. +y plate is suddenly full. 6ne day
my 7liss is in 2owa, studying dentistry, ga$ing at the
gums and decay of hog farmers and their kin. "he
claims she can eyeball a patient,s teeth and see
through to what,s rotten. -nd now she,s coming
home for a !uick visit, a thousand miles, without
even the excuse of a national holiday or school
calendar break. /3on,t you have teeth to clean01 2
asked hopefully when she called with the news. -t
my insistence we use long%distance sparingly, only
when something truly important comes up. "ince
2,m still up in the air about our future as a couple,
why throw away good money until 2,m sure about
what 2,m doing4 it,s the difference between
carnations for her birthday and a cashmere sweater.
2 have us writing postcards back and forth. "hort and
sweet, public enough so things can never get too
involved or serious. - picture,s worth a thousand
words.
'ere,s the rest of the picture4 2 am twenty%six
years old, and was recently anointed the new
resident chef at the 8ichfield Ladies, (lub in
8ichfield, (onnecticut. 2 make lunch and tea, and in
the evenings 2,m on my own. - few weeks back, an
old classmate at the (2- Ithat,s the (ulinary
2nstitute of -mericaJ, im :ing, now pastry chef for
one of the :ennedy widows, and hating it, told an
ac!uaintance of his who had *ust started her course
work at the Yale 9raduate "chool of 3esign to call
me if she ever wanted a great home%cooked meal.
'er name is Lisa Lee, and as she put it when she
phoned and invited herself to dinner, /"terling Lung,
:ing says you,re fabulous. 'e said 2,d like you even if
you couldn,t cook.1 2 was flattered, of course, but as
soon as we hung up, 2 felt crowded by her
presumptions, as 2 do whenever some know%it%all
enters my kitchen and counsels me on ways to
improve whatever 2 have on the stove4 more salt,
more pepper, or once even more cardamom.
&o my credit, 2 did try to discourage her with the
warning that New 'aven is clear across the state, a
solid two%and%a%half%hour drive away. /'ow can that
be01 she said. /.e,re in the same area code.1 2
couldn,t imagine what im :ing might have told her;
Lisa Lee was undaunted. /2,m sure you,ll make the
drive worthwhile.1
2n bed that night 2 pu$$led over the phone call.
.hy had Lisa Lee been put up to this0 2 tried to
contact im :ing, but was unsuccessful; the alumni
office at the (2- wouldn,t divulge his exact
whereabouts, a condition of his employment. 2
mulled over the facts, scarce as they were. Finally 2
decided4 im :ing must have a stake in this, he must
be in pursuit of this Lisa Lee and is simply using me
as bait. +y role is that of a culinary (upid. Fair
enough. 6ne day 2,ll call in the favor, have :ing set
me up with a :ennedy.
2 was so pleased with my revelation that 2 bounced
out of bed and wrote to 7liss. 6n the back of a ohn
and Yoko postcard Iit,s their wedding dayJ, 2
should,ve known better, but 2 spilled the beans. 2 put
it all down, except the bit about :ing and the debt
he,ll repay with a :ennedy.
2,m innocent; totally up%front, right0 7ut honesty
isn,t enough for 7liss. "he,ll never admit it, but some
corn%yellow tooth is going to go unpulled because
she,s *ealous, in love, and coming east to protect
what she believes is hers.
"o it goes, the laden table, the overflowing cup.
2,m talking to Fuchs, the butcher 2 buy from. /'ow
about a nice capon01 Fuchs says. 'e has muttonchop
sideburns and a nose with hairs like alfalfa sprouts. 2
grimace; with his talk of capons, Fuchs suddenly
assumes a sinister, perverted cast.
2,ve never cooked capon before. "erving castrated
rooster isn,t my bag. -ll 2 want is a four%, four%and%a%
half%pounder, a biggish bird so Lisa Lee won,t think
2,m going cheap on her.
Fuchs tears off a s!uare of orange butcher paper,
which he lays on the scale, then plops the bird on
top. /Fresh,1 he says. /7e my guest, take a whiff.
Fuchs won,t steer you wrong. #ound for pound, you
can,t buy better than this.1
(ool refrigerated air rises off the dank yellow skin.
/2,m surprised at you, Fuchs. 2 would think you,d be
more sympathetic to his plight,1 2 say, fingering the
ex%rooster.
/.hy0 7ecause 2,m a member of the tribe0
7ecause 2 was circumcised01
/No. 7ecause you have one to circumcise.1 2 poke
the bird. /Us guys have got to stick together, Fuchs.
&hink about it4 #ni&5 -nd as if that,s not bad enough,
they throw him back in with the others to plump, big
and fat, and he struts around like cocks do, big man
in barnyard, only the hens are snickering behind his
back. &hink how he must,ve felt.1
46
/"terling, what gives0 "ince when did you become
psychologist to the poultry world01 'e wraps the
capon, ties the bundle with brown twine. /'ey,
speaking of snip, how about what,s%her%name, the
one they let play against the ladies at the U.". 6pen
last year. .hatever happened to herGor should 2 say
Thim,01 8enee 8ichards, tennis pro, who in a recent
former life was 8ichard 8askind, medical doctor. 2
remember the first time 2 saw her in the newspaper,
she was in her tennis whites, in one of those
ridiculously skimpy skirts female players wear in
order to show off their panties. 2 was immediately
drawn to her looks, found her rather sexy even, that
is, until 2 read the accompanying article detailing her
surgical transformation. /(an,t tell a she from a he01
2 scolded myself. /.hat kind of man are you01
- woman enters the store. - young housewife
dressed in an outfit; her shoes, belt, and lipstick
match. Fuchs snaps back to his business mode4 /"o
how many of these capons would you like, sir0 2
guarantee you, the ladies at the club will adore this
flesh.1
&he new customer is browsing the beef%pork%lamb
end of the refrigerated case. 2 look at her, then at
Fuchs, who rolls his eyes and whispers, /&hat one
was never a doctor.1
2 nod; he,s got that rightL /&hat,s it for today,1 2
say.
/'ey, these birds are meaty,1 Fuchs says, /but *ust
one won,t feed that crowd at the club.1
/2t,s not for the ladies.1 2 laugh nervously. /2 have
this art student from Yale, a total stranger, coming
for dinner. - friend of a friend, that sort of thing.1
/.hy so glum0 Yale, you say. -t least she,s smart.1
/'ow do you know she,s a she01
/7ecause a guy gets hamburger. "he,1 he indicates
the housewife, with a tip of his head, /gets the bird.1
/You,re right, she,s a she. Lisa Lee.1
/(hinese too, "terlingL 7etter than good.1
2 stare at Fuchs as though he were a freak, natural
or manmade, himself a capon.
/.hy,re you looking at me like +adame (hiang
:ai%shek *ust burst from my forehead01
2 shake the shock from my eyes. /2 never imagined
she might be (hinese.1
/+adame (hiang01
/No, Lisa Lee.1
&he other customer sets her purse on top of the
meat case.
&o her Fuchs says, /2,m almost through here,
miss.1 &o me he says, /Lee,s a (hinese name. -m 2
right01
/"ure, but 2,ve been thinking 8obert 5. Lee. <ivien
Leigh. "ara Lee.1
/-nd don,t forget 8ichard 3ay%lee and F. $ee 7ay%
lee.1
/7e serious.1
/-nd there,s that *u*itsu guyG7ruce Lee.1 Fuchs
scratches his bald spot. /9ee$, when you think of it,
hardly anyone,s (hinese.1
2 hand over some money. Fuchs offers to charge
the purchase to the Ladies, (lub account.
/#ersonal use.1
/7oy, you (hinese are honest,1 Fuchs says. /.ell, 2
wish 2 was in your shoes, having a blind date like
that.1 'e winks, and at that moment, as half his face
collapses, 2 see him as a man from an earlier time in
human history, someone who could effortlessly tilt
back the chin of a lamb and slash its throat.
Leaving the store, 2 hear Fuchs say to his
customer, /"o, 2 see you like looking at meatG1
2 walk to the Ladies, (lub with the capon bundle
under my arm. 2 know Fuchs must be right. 'anging
around death as he does all day, he sees things. Lisa
Lee is (hinese, which explains why im :ing has put
her up to our meeting; he thinks we,ll make a cute
couple together, a pair of matching bookends.
2 try to imagine Lisa Lee and immediately con*ure
up my sisters. 2 see them, one after the other, their
faces like post office mug shots, and under their
chins, instead of a serial number, is a pla!ue that
reads /Lisa Lee.1 2 know it,s wrongheaded, even a bit
spooky, and entirely indicative of bad wiring inside
me, but in my heart every (hinese woman registers
as an aunt, my mother, my sisters, or the 'ong :ong
girl whose picture my mother keeps taped to the
kitchen mirror. &hey hold no romantic interest for
me.
2 pass :im the greengrocer. #eople in town think
he is (hinese. 2 backtrack, enter the store. Lisa Lee4
bean sprouts, snow peas. 2 rarely do business with
:im, who charges four times wholesale and won,t
cut me a break, ripping me off, his -sian brother,
along with everyone else. "ix bucks a pound for snow
peasL :im,s making a mint and getting fat, even his
wire%rims look fat. -nd he speaks only enough
5nglish to kiss up to the housewives with his
/-merica is good place,1 /You look nice,1 /(heap,
cheap1 stuff. .ith me, he doesn,t botherGwhat is
another 6riental going to get him0
2 pay, and feel pickpocketed. +y own money, and
what,s it going to get me0 /Not so cheap,1 2 say to
:im, with a smile, angling for a discount. 7ut he *ust
eyes me, a stray that,s wandered in off the street.
/You not have to buy,1 he says, and shrugs.
Normally 2 have no use for bean sprouts and snow
peas, even at half the price. &hey are not part of who
2 am as a chef. 7ut *ust as tennis re!uires a can of
balls, a milkshake a drinking straw, a dinner guest
named Lisa Lee re!uires the appropriate vegetable
matter. /7lind date,1 2 say, holding my purchases up
by my ear. 2 can see from :im,s blank expression
that he has failed to grasp my meaning4 he can,t see
that my hands are tied, that 2 must go against the
grain, that under routine circumstances 2 wouldn,t
tolerate this economic exploitation.
:im says, /-merica is land of plenty. .hy you
want a blind girl for01
.hen 2 get homeGthat is, the small apartment that
comes with the *ob, four hundred s!uare feet, the top
floor of the carriage house in the rear of the Ladies,
(lub propertyG2 find a postcard from 7liss in the
mail. - giant ear of corn that takes up the entire
length of a flatbed truck. "he alternates between
sending the mutant%corn postcard and sending the
one of the colossal hog with antelope horns. "he
writes4 /- guy comes in complaining about a
toothache but he doesn,t know which tooth aches.
&he O rays don,t know any better, and neither do my
professors. 7ut then 2 had a hunch, this feeling; 2
borrowed a light and checked his eyes and his ears.
-nd *ingo5 &here was a moth in there and a foot of
47
yarnL .hen it was all over, +oth 5ars asked me out
for a beer. 'e said, T-re you spoken for0, 2 had never
heard it put that way. "terling, have you spoken for
me0 2 love you. "ee you Friday, the =Eth.1
2 check the calendar. &oday is Friday, the fifteenth.
2s she coming today, or tomorrow, the sixteenth0
Friday, as she says, or "aturday0 "omething,s wrong.
-s much as 2 hate having to do so, 2 have to phone
her, paying premium daytime rates, no less. .hen
she doesn,t answer, 2,m relieved, spared the toll
chargesGthough 2 know that,s an inappropriate
response. "he,s probably already in the air. 2 need to
straighten the matter out. 2 try Lisa Lee,s number;
she isn,t at home either. #erhaps both are speeding,
in opposite directionsGLisa Lee from the east, 7liss
from the westGto the same trembling destination.
2 rinse the bird, salt its body cavity, and curse Fuchs.
7efore Fuchs, Lisa Lee was *ust a hungry student
coming for a home%cooked meal; a stranger shows
up uninvited at your door, you feed him. 6r her.
&here,s a right and a wrong, and 2 was prepared to
do the right thing. 2n the end even 7liss wouldn,t
have ob*ected to that. 7ut talking to Fuchs has put
me in a fix. Now my innocent little dinner, my
mission of mercy, has transformed into a date. .ith
a (hinese girl, of all thingsL
7liss and 2 had been seeing each other on a regular
basis for only a few months when she asked me to
move with her to 2owa and set up house. 2 told her
no, 2 had my *ob with the ladies. "he then offered to
defer the start of her second year of dental school
and stay with me. Fearing the escalation in the level
of our commitment to each other such a sacrifice
would signify, 2 had to tell her no again. 2 was
flattered, but was even more bewildered by her
eagerness to alter her plans. 2n my eyes we were, at
best, a fringe couple. Yes, we were going out.
"leeping together. 2 was happy to have her in my life.
2 was new in town, knocking myself out trying to
impress my employers, and if 2,d been living close to
friends, in familiar surroundings, 2 might not have
indulged the relationship as 2 did. .e were pals, we
hung out, we ate lots of food, we drank good wine,
we had sex occasionally. 7ut moving in together, in
the +idwest0 .as she kidding0 &hat was far beyond
where 2 was. &he trouble then, as now, was that 2
never meant for things to get too serious. -t the risk
of sounding like a *unior high schooler4 2 liked her
but 2 didn,t love her.
2 towel off the capon, massage mustard onto its
skin. 2t feels no different from any of the hundreds of
chickens 2,ve cooked, but 2 can,t get used to touching
this thing. 7liss would have no !ualms; after all, she
wants to drill teeth for a living. Nothing seems to
bother her. .hen she wedged her way into my life,
arriving unannounced like an angel with a pot of
soup, 2 was sick, a vibrating mass of germs, but she
laid on her hands and helped me undress and made
my bed and massaged my back and sat nearby,
singing French folk songs and oni +itchell. 2
couldn,t sleep because of the singing but was too
polite, indeed, too beholden, indeed, too afraid to
ask her to cut short her concertGthat was what it
was, for she seemed to pause between songs for
imaginary applause. &he moment came when 2
dislodged my arm, which was pillowing my head,
and swung it down to my hip, cutting wide arcs that 2
hoped would alert her to the fact 2 was still awake
and miserable, bored, and ready for surrender.
6n one of these sweeps she grabbed my handG
later she would argue 2 had offered it to herGand
when my arm pendulumed up toward my head, she
leapt out of her chair like a fish from the sea.
.ithout the slightest break in her song she was lured
into my bedGso goes her version of how we ended
up making love that first time. -s we lay naked
between the sheets, chills from the fever stiffening
my body, she held me to her enormous heat and
asked if she might come again, another day, with
more soup, and unsteadily, 2 said, /Yes.1
2 admit 2 was the one who had made first contact.
"oon after 2 arrived in 8ichfield, 2 saw her name in
our college alumni maga$ine and called her. .e had
been marginal friends at "warthmore, both art
history ma*ors, but she was a couple of classes ahead
of me, and we traveled in different social circles Iher
group was acid and orgies; mine was wine and one%
night standsJ. -fter running hard with the /in
crowd1 her first four semesters, she turned serious
as a *unior, finding peace in the study of 9othic
cathedrals. -t the art history ma*ors, costume party
during her "enior .eek, we spoke for the first time.
"he went as Notre 3ame, a dishwasher box, with
splendidly painted details of the original and
posterboard flying buttresses hanging off at her sides
like spider legs; her face was that of a gargoyle. 9uys
*oked about coming to worship, going on a
pilgrimage. 2 went as .arhol,s 7rillo box. 6ur
costumes were huge hits but left us on the sidelines,
victims of our own geniusGwhat a drag trying to
boogie with your body in a cardboard box.
.hen 2 tracked her down at her parents, place in
New (anaan, she was completely surprised. .e met
for lunch on one of my first off%days from the Ladies,
(lub. "he was no longer the hippie she,d been in
school. .hile her long, fri$$y brown hair was still
her most distinguishing attribute, in the four years
since 2 had last seen her she had lost the roundness
in her face and had traded in her &%shirts and 2ndian
print skirts for tailored clothing. 7etween graduation
and dental school, she had worked for her father,
who owned and managed properties and ac!uired
things. 5ven though she slept under his roof and
received a salary from him, she seemed to harbor
boundless hostility toward her father. 2n her lingo,
he was /capitalist pig scum,1 who apparently felt
morally *ustified in his own brand of bigotry because
his parents were 'olocaust survivors. -fter the
initial weekend lunches at local restaurants, 2 invited
her to my apartment for dinner. &hen came the day
she showed up at my door with the soup.
2 rub the mustard onto the capon,s skin, with its
largish pores and nipple%like bumps; the mustard,s
whole seeds, tiny orbs rolling between my palm and
the lubricated skin, produce a highly erotic
sensation.
&he telephone rings and 2 *ump, embarrassed by
the pleasure 2,m taking. +y mind leaps from the
capon to Lisa Lee. "he must be calling to cancel our
date; perhaps she has a pro*ect due and can,t come
to dinner.
7ut the instant 2 lift the receiver 2 reali$e 2 don,t
want to hear that message at all.
4*
/2,m hereL 2,m here, 2,m here, 2,m hereL1
2t,s 7liss. 6riginally, she explains, she planned to
fly in tomorrow, but a classmate, 8ay, has a wedding
to attend in 9reenwich, and she caught a ride, saving
money, his drive%buddy. -t this moment they are
outside "yracuse, still hours shy of (onnecticut.
/2,m skipping my parents,1 she says. "he sounds
all *uiced up, still speedy from the road. /2t,s a hit%
and%run visit. 2,m not even stopping in, they,ll want
to feed me, take me shopping, you know, monopoli$e
my time. 2,m going to stay with you.1
Love is a lot like cooking. .hen either is
successful, there,s a delicate chemistry in operation,
a fine balance between the constituent parts. 2f you
have the perfect recipe for vichyssoise, you don,t
monkey with it. .e,ve had a workable arrangement.
&he U.". #ostal "ervice has kept us connected; we
have a standing agreement to take holidays together.
&hat,s plenty. .hy spoil a good thing0
/.e,re going to stop by 8anda$$o,s,1 7liss says.
/(ome *oin us. 2,m letting 8ay buy me drinks.1 "he
informs me that 8ay is a third%year dental student;
he has been /a good help1 to her, and twice has taken
her hunting for ring%necked pheasant in the
harvested cornfields.
/2,m stuck here,1 2 tell her. /2,m experimenting
with a new recipe.1 .hich is the truth.
/-lways other women,1 she says.
2 hear the sarcasm in her voice, understand she
means the club ladies 2 have to feed, but suspect she
also means Lisa Lee. For a moment 2 consider
putting an end to the intrigue, inviting her and that
guy 8ay to *oin us for dinner. - foursome around the
table. +e and 7liss. 8ay and Lisa Lee. -t the mere
thought of such a pairing 2 experience a biting pang
of *ealousy.
/"ilvy, what,s the matter01 she says, into the silent
line. /2t,s me, 7liss. -re you upset with me0 (ome
on, tell me. 3o you feel threatened by 8ay01
2 keep seeing the four of us around the table; Nay,
some generic +idwesterner in a hunting cap and
ammo vest, and Lisa Lee, who at that moment 2
imagine as my sister Lucy.
/2t,s true we spent the night together in the car.
7ut he,s *ust a friend.1
2 stay silent.
/2,m sorry. Nothing happened. 3on,t be that way.
You know me. 2,m already spoken for.1
-fter we hang up 2 try to reach Lisa Lee again. No
answer, of course, she,s also on her way. 7ut 2 don,t
panic. 7liss has hundreds of miles to go, a couple of
hours, drinking at 8anda$$o,s. 2f 2,m really lucky
she,ll catch dinner there.
"he fills the doorway, her head and its swirl of
dark hair eclipse the early%evening sun. 'er face is in
shadow. "he stabs *ugs of wine into the room4 /2 got
2nglenook red and white,1 she says. /2 didn,t know
how you swing, so 2 blanketed the field.1
2 backpedal from the door, and as soon as 2 vacate
a space, Lisa Lee fills it.
"he is six feet tall. +y first thought is, .here is
Lisa Lee, the (hinese Lisa Lee that Fuchs had
promised, where is she in this high%rise protoplasm0
"till, 2 can,t help noticing her beauty, the cool sort,
good -merican bones and narrow green eyes. 2,ve
seen her before, especially the gangliness, the 2%
beam angularity in her cheeks, through her
shoulders.
&hen it hits me, like the icicle that fell six stories
and opened my head when 2 was a boy4 "he can pass
for 8enee 8ichards,s double.
/-re you all right01 she asks. /3idn,t :ing tell
you01
&ell me what, that she, Lisa Lee, was once a he0
/2t,s okay. You can stare,1 she says. /2,m used to it,
people are always gawking at my si$e.1
"he eats and drinks lustily; she has so much space to
fill. 2 think of horses 2,ve seen, their magnificent
dimensions, the monumental daily task of keeping
their bodies stoked. For all the energy and attention
she gives to her food, she maintains a nonstop
conversation, remarkable for its seamless splice of
words, breaths, bites, and swallows. /.hat do you
call these01 she says, helping herself to the snow
peas.
/"now peas.1
/No,1 she says. /2 mean in (hinese.1
2 ask about her studies. 2 don,t comprehend much
of her response. 2t,s all very abstract, highly
theoretical. 7ut in the end she confesses that what
she,s truly into is interior design. 5very designer
with a name in +ilan and New York, she begins, is a
man. "he says this has to change. .omen are cooped
up in their homes all day, surrounded by things
designed by men. /:nives and forks,1 she says, /is
macho eating. "tab and cut, out on the hunt.1 "he
criti!ues my flatware, my stemware, my dishes. 2t,s
*unk, cheap stuff, but she,s a grad student and finds
things to say, *ust as 7liss is awed by exotic gum
diseases.
"he loads up on capon. 2,ve barely touched any of
the bird, too much excitement, and 2,m still too
s!ueamish. (all it cross%species male solidarity. 7ut
2 love watching someone en*oy my cooking,
especially a woman, one who eats Ithere,s no other
way of putting itJ like a man, with pig%at%the%trough
mindlessness, so different from 7liss, with her on%
again, off%again diets, her sensitivity to ingredients,
her likes and dislikes, allergies, calorie counts, moral
guidelines.
Lisa Lee takes on a leg, itself almost a pound of
flesh. -s she sinks her teeth into the perfectly
browned skin, my mind explodes with the inevitable
!uestion4 .hy 7liss0 'ow can she say she loves me
if she doesn,t love all of me, including my food0
.hat am 2 but a cook0 You love me, love what 2
cookL 'ow should 2 regard a so%called lover who
would extract essential ingredients from my dishes,
capers, for instance, her fingers pinching the
offending orbs like fleas off a dog, then flicking them
onto the table, as if she had seen Warning'
Radioactive Materials printed on each itty%bitty
bud. 2 imagine 7liss encountering the roasted capon,
which to a normal diner like Lisa Lee is *ust a plump
bird. 7ut 7liss has an uncanny knack for putting two
and two together, even when there isn,t a two and
two to put together. /.hat are you trying to do to
me01 she would say, her suspicions touching me like
the worst accusation, and 2 would hang my head in
shame, accepting responsibility for the rooster,s sad
fate, feeling the tug of its peppercorn%si$ed testicles
that guilt has strung around my neck. "ouvenirs of
4+
war. Men5 3isgusted with me and the bird, she
would go on diets4 For days, no meat. For weeks, no
sex.
Lisa Lee relin!uishes her knife and fork. /&hat was
so goodL You,re everything :ing said you,d be.1 "he
smiles, greasy lips, a fleck of capon skin on her chin
like a beauty mark. 'er satisfied look pleases me to
no end. 2 start to clear the table. &he *ug of white she
brought is gone. -ma$ing we choked down so much
cheap wine. /2f you,re a man,1 she says, /you,ll uncap
the other bottle.1 2n the kitchen 2 set down the
dishes, and as 2 open the red, the telephone rings.
/.e,re on 5ighty%four, near #oughkeepsie,1 7liss
reports. &hey,re at a rest area, making use of the
facilities. /2,m going to skip the drinks with 8ay. 2,ve
already worried you enough about him. 2,m so, so
sorry.1
2 watch as Lisa Lee stacks the dirty dishes. .hat
remarkable si$eL -n infinite capacity to consume and
thereby to love. 'er mastications were gestures of
love. "he catches me staring, holds a finger
perpendicular to her lips, admonishing herself to
keep !uiet. "he seems to know who it is 2,m talking
to, seems familiar and comfortable with situations of
this sort. "he steps free of her noisy shoes, and as 2
watch her move toward me, 2 wish 2 could *ust as
easily step from my entanglement with 7liss. #luck
her from my life as cold%bloodedly as she would a
bay leaf from a stew 2,ve made, a tooth from
someone,s head.
/3on,t change your plans because of me,1 2 say.
/You like 8anda$$o,s. 'ave some drinks. 2,ll see you
afterwards. 2,m not going anywhere.1
Lisa Lee takes the opened *ug of red from my
hands, fishes a glass from the sink, pours, and
drinks. 2 watch her swallow, the little hitch in her
throat; if only the hitch were the clasp of a $ipper
that ran down to her navel, which un$ipped revealed
Lisa Lee,s (hinese self. 2 want this to happen for
7liss,s sake4 should she arrive while Lisa Lee is still
here, 2 could simply pass her off as my cousin. 7liss
would love her.
2 check my watch. .ith or without drinks they
can,t possibly get here before 2,ve served coffee and
dessert and sent Lisa Lee on her way.
2 get off the phone with 7liss. .e leave things
hanging. 2,ll take care of business on my end; 2 can,t
worry about what 2 can,t control.
/.here does this go01 Lisa Lee holds the platter
containing the remains of the capon.
/Let me take that. 2,ll pack you some leftovers to
take home.1
/.hat kind of man are you01 she says, welding
hands to hips. /You,re going to make me drive all
that way, in my condition01
3o 2 have a choice0 &rue, the picture of her
backing down the driveway is frightening enough,
forget the two and a half hours on the interstate. &he
decent thing to do would be to tuck her safely into
my bed for the night. 7ut 7liss stands in the way of
such a right and moral act. .hat Lisa Lee needs is
sleep, to pass the hours of her overindulgence out of
harm,s way. - night,s undisturbed digestion, then,
upon waking, to eat and love again. 7liss will deny
her her well%deserved rest. "o much more the pity,
sleep the simple thing it is. 2t,s a staggering thought,
yet 2 know that before the night is through 2 will do
7liss,s bidding. "he will insist that Lisa Lee must go.
-nd should Lisa Lee, heaven forbid, do$e while she,s
behind the wheel and *ump the center divider, a
grand *ury surely will charge 7liss, not me. "till,
what comfort is that0
2 brew a pot of coffee. From the living room
Lisa Lee calls, /.hat kind of wine smells like that01
+inutes later 2 carry in a tray with coffee and a
rich chocolate torte. "he is seated on the pea%green
couch. +y rickshaw driver lamp gives her skin a
yellowish hue. 'er eyes narrow in concentration, as
she fastidiously rolls a *oint.
/.hat are you doing01
First her expression is, 3on,t mess with me; then
she says, /You,re not chicken, are you0 - girl only
lives once.1 "he slips the *oint into her smiling
mouth and slowly reams it through her lips.
.e drink the coffee, we eat the chocolate torte.
-fterward she seems more together, the alchemy of
bread dough in a KF?%degree oven. Now 2 can send
her homeG7liss can send her homeGwith regrets
but diminished fear for her safety.
&hen she lights up.
&he mari*uana will counteract the effects of the
caffeine in the coffee and the chocolate. .hen 2 run
this past her she says, /+aybe pot stimulates me.
You don,t know my body.1
7ut 2 do know. 'er body, her outsi$ed frame, its
long rib cage that imprisons the real Lisa Lee, my
counterfeit cousin inside her. &here,s the reason for
her vast appetite; she must eat for two, and like her
master, the one trapped inside also loves my food,
also loves all of me.
"he offers me a hit. 2 scissor the *oint, *ust to get it
away from her. "he watches me, with a smile that
she knows my secrets. /2 like your hands,1 she coos
in a hushed tone. /2 like what they do to ordinary
things. .hat a miracle that chicken was.1
"hould 2 tell her the truth0 "traighten her out as to
which fowl is which0 "he doesn,t need my help, her
powers of perception are unparalleled; after all, she
saw the /miracle1 in the dish, and the transformation
of the capon into something delicious, respectable,
beautiful is nothing short of miraculous.
(hickenL 2,m the chicken around here. &oo chicken
to insist that Lisa Lee stay; too chicken to tell 7liss
not to come, tell her she,s not /spoken for.1 2,m brave
only with my parents; 2 stared down their anger
when Iat their nosy insistenceJ 2 confessed 2 was
dating someone I7lissJ, and they acted hurt and
surprised she wasn,t (hinese, even though none of
my previous girlfriends was of the -sian persuasion
either. What do these girls see in youH You!re so
stu&id, you thin they thin you!re &retty, don!t
youH 2 defended myself with a raging silence. 7ut
what do they see0 2,m a decent enough guy, but there
are plenty of decent guys; 2,m competent in bed, but
competence is rampant. &he standard is 8obert
8edford, and on more than one occasion 2,ve stood
before the bathroom mirror with a picture of the
actor held up to my face and gauged the extent of my
deficiencies. .hat 7liss sees in me, 2 can,t answer.
&he mechanics of her fierce affection is a mystery.
-nd it,s this mystery that free$es me, makes love
cruel. 2n all my relationships love has felt like
charity, needed and hungrily received; 2 am #ip from
5,
2reat E;&ectations, fat on another,s generosity but
crippled by the uncertainty over what motivates my
benefactor,s heart. .ith Lisa Lee at least 2 know she
loves my food.
&he telephone rings again. Lisa Lee smirks, arches
her eyebrows. /#opular guy, aren,t you01 she says.
/You don,t have to answer, you know.1
- temptation, a perfect opportunity to bump 7liss
from the picture. 7ut 2 don,t have the nerve.
7liss is at 8anda$$o,s, ahead of schedule. &hey,re
going to have drinks and a bite to eat. For a split
second 2 take offense, am actually *ealous4 eating at a
spaghetti *oint, when she knows 2,m concocting
something new and fabulous in my kitchen. 2,m
shocked by the speed with which they,ve made
(onnecticut, but grateful for the regained hours her
dining out provides. /&hat,s fine. 2,ll be here, waiting
for you,1 2 say. For reasons unknown, 2 add, /7ut tell
me, what made you change your mind0 You said you
were coming here directly.1
"he says, /-t first 2 thought 2 had upset you
because 2 was traveling in close !uarters with a man.
7ut then 2 reali$ed 2 can,t upset you. You don,t care
what 2 do. "o it must be that you,d rather 2 hadn,t
come. 2,ll *ust go to my parents, house.1
/&hat,s silly. 2t,s *ust that my hands are full.1 &hen
2 say, /You,re spending an awful lot of time with that
8ay.1 -nd why shouldn,t 2 say this0 2t costs me
nothing, and it,s what she wants to hear.
&here,s a prolonged silence on the other end, after
which, with the usual cheerful lilt back in her voice,
7liss says, /You really mean that01
-fter 2 hang up 2 stay in the kitchen and pack a
doggie bag for Lisa Lee. Fuchs was right about the
capon,s si$e. - lot of meat. 7ig. -nd there,s never
been a blinder date. .ait till 2 tell him. 2 can hear
him now4 /6kay, so she,s not (hinese, you can,t have
everything. -lready you got smart. Now you say she,s
beautiful and handsome tooL -nd bigL You can,t buy
any betterG1
.hen 2 return to the living room she,s no longer
there. -t first 2,m relieved, one problem solved. 7ut
immediately 2 reali$e her absence depresses me.
2 find her in my bed, apparently asleep, her *eans
on, her blouse off. &he top sheet slashes diagonally
across her, toga style, leaving her shoulder exposed.
.hen 2 check, she,s taking sleep,s slow, steady
breaths. /'ey, hey,1 2 say, tapping her on the
shoulder.
"he opens and closes her eyes. /+mmmm ...1 she
says, but there is no telling why. -sleep again, she
shifts her position and does something with her
hands, and the sheet flies off, magically, and she,s
naked for the briefest instant, and 2,m not sure if it,s
happened by accident or design. &he fleeting sight of
her long, lanky torso burns into my memory, her
breasts as tidy as teacups upended on a clear pine
board.
2 sit on the edge of the mattress. /Lisa,1 2 say
softly, /wake up.1 Lisa Lee yawns, rolls onto her side,
curls her body around my spine. 2t must be the
surprise of our bodies touching and the
thoroughness of the contact that make me feel
enveloped by her. 2 lean into the heat of her skin, as
plants turn toward light, palm her shoulder, and
shake her. 7ut my heart isn,t behind the business of
rousing her, it,s something 2 do, a phantom order 2
have no choice but to obey. 'ow does this look to
someone outside, peeking in through the window0
You see a woman in bedGasleep or restingGat peace
with her choices in life, safe and secure, and a man
on the edge of the mattress, which, to *udge from his
posture, must seem like the very edge of the world to
him; he is alone on the brink, though the woman is
there; and you see how worries have fused his
vertebrae into a single length of bone, how rest won,t
come easily to this man, who wants to leap but can,t.
Lisa Lee stretches, tightening her muscles,
pushing roughly away from me. -t once 2 miss her
ardently, it is out of all proportion, but true.
&hen it comes to me in a rush. -nd 2 feel tricked
and double%crossed when 2 reali$e that the person
2,m missing most right now is 7liss. 2 miss how she
tells me what to think, what to do. 6nce, back in the
early days, when she ate and loved un!uestioningly,
2 prepared a simple dinner, from recipes 2 can,t even
recall, and at its conclusion she exclaimed, /&hat
meal is beyond seduction. &hat, darling, was a
proposal of marriage.1 .eeks later she started
dropping hints about living together, about one day
marrying, and when 2 grew exasperated with such
talk, she fired back that 2, with that meal, had
planted the idea of marriage in her head.
2 want 7liss to come to my rescue, as she did with
soup in the beginning, my personal 8ed (ross. No
one chooses the 8ed (ross, but when disaster
strikes, the 8ed (ross is there.
Lisa Lee sweetly, softly belches. 'er loving
appetiteL 2 study the fleck of roasted skin still on her
chin, the dark brown of a nipple. 2 remember some
graffiti in the men,s room at cooking school4
There once was a girl named
Red,
Whose &assions were stirred
when fed.
" little French wining,
Fine E&icurean dining,
"nd soon you!ll *e eating in
*ed.
7ut Lisa Lee is not like that girl 8ed. Lisa Lee isn,t
about love or pleasure. .hat,s made her so right, all
night, is the fact she isn,t 7liss.
2t,s time to act. &ime to put my life in order.
2 swing my legs onto the bed and slowly slide
down next to her. "he drapes a heavy arm across my
waist and breathes metaboli$ed smoke and wine
against my face. .hen she shifts her weight, her
knee scrapes the top of my knee, her pelvis bumps
my thigh. "he,s making all the moves. +y record
with 7liss is still clean, my hands as good as tied to
my sides. 7ut why hold back0 7liss isn,t the 8ed
(ross, her soul isn,t dressed in nurse,s whites. 'er
habitual kindness, like -merican foreign aid, comes
with strings attached. -round the room 2 see her
touches4 the curtains she sewed; the plants she
bought and reminds me to water; the +atisse
goldfish poster that she framed; the bookcase she
knocked together, painted black, and stocked with
thin volumes of poetry. &his is nothing but interior
51
design. &his night,s struggle is about my interior
design, how 7 am configured inside, how 7 want the
four chambers of my heart arranged, my likes and
loves, my duty and desire, not how she wants those
parts to be.
2f 2 accept Lisa Lee,s sleepy advances, 2 can do so
with the knowledge that no one is better e!uipped
than 7liss to weather the pain of this bum,s
indiscretion. "he has the recipe for the healing soup,
and strong hands to catch herself when she falls.
-nd a heart that all along has loved for two.
Lisa Lee pulls me closer, grinds her nose into my
neck, rubs her $ipper against my hip, and 2 sense
that it is time. 7ut when 2 turn to kiss her, her body
suddenly goes limp, rubbery%limbed, her *oints in
aspic, and she softly, undeniably, snores.
2 slip out of bed. 2n the kitchen 2 stand staring at the
night,s ruins, the capon carcass, the dishes. Lisa
Lee,s scent lifts from my clothing. &hat,s all 2,m
doingGstanding and staringGmy mind blank. &hen 2
reali$e it isn,t !uite *ust standing and staring, 2,m
actually waiting. For the 8ed (ross, for >==, for
sympathetic 7and%-id%hearted 7liss to tell me what
to do with the person in my bed, before she arrives
and discovers her herself.
2 run a bath. 'ide the evidence. 9et rid of Lisa Lee,s
scent, her vague perfume. 2 can accomplish that
much myself.
2 look in on Lisa Lee. 2 call her. "he doesn,t stir. 2
shut the bedroom door. Let her sleep. "leep will
protect her.
2 undress and climb into the bath. &he water is
hot, my skin reddens, darkening the way paper
stains with oil. 2 am poached. 2n a soup. -s a boy 2
cultivated a reputation for my tolerance of
discomforts. 6n car trips 2 would stand so others
could sit; 2 would eat slightly moldy fruit; 2 would
wait for hours while my parents shopped in
(hinatown, would wear my sisters, hand%me%downs
and endure scalding bath water, and never complain.
2t was a boy,s notion of heroic duty then, it,s a grasp
at self%styled absolution now.
"lowly 2 recline, until 2 have submerged my
shoulders. "oon 2 pop my legs outGit,s too hotGand
prop my heels on the edge of the tub, steam swirling
off my skin, and 2 imagine it isn,t *ust steam but
some essence of myself that 2,m better left without,
lifting. 7liss likes my legs, and she has told me so,
and with their hair weighted down by water, they are
more apparent, better defined. 6nce she said that 2
had the body of a 8enaissance (hrist, his lean, tight
torso, evident ribs, and well%muscled legs that
reflected a society on the go, exploring seas and
deserts, in a time enamored with substantiality, a
heavenly earth; it,s a (hrist fed on game, *ungle fowl
from new worlds, spiced meats, sesame seeds,
saffron, silk, and gold. /&here,s more there than
meets the eye,1 she said. &he muscularity of the
(hrists in the oils of the Florentine Leonardo and the
<enetian &itian and their disciples isn,t *ust an
expression of piety, it,s also a reflection of their
patrons, good fortunes. &hese paintings achieve
paradoxical feats of illusionGsubstance and spirit;
they want you to see what is there, and believe it,
and what is not there, and believe it.
.hen 7liss and 2 first got together, she told me
she could read a person,s life simply by looking in his
mouth. 2 loved this idea, my imagination locked on
palmists and the articulate lines in hands, or
psychics who can predict a life by the shape of a
skull. /&ell me about myself,1 2 said. /-t one time,1
she said, /you brushed with a hard toothbrush. &he
si$e of your cavities suggests you,ve had good dental
care.1 -nd so on. 7ut not a word about my luck,
about my destiny, about whether 2,m a trustworthy
or a dangerous man, about what will happen next.
2 close my eyes and sink deeper into the water.
"omeone knocks at the apartment door. 2 sit up,
splash water on my face, then lean back, and wait.
&he door opens and closes. 2 could have set the
deadbolt, but thought better of doing so. &hat would
not be playing fair.
2t,s a long time before she comes to the bathroom,
and by then, as is her wont, and now her burden, she
must,ve put two and two together4 Lisa Lee,s car in
the drive, the wineglasses, the empty bottle, the
dishes, the bird,s naked bones. Lisa Lee, of course, in
my bed. "he has to have figured things out by the
time she opens the bathroom door and steps inside,
preceded by a rush of the outer room,s cooler air.
"he stands *ust this side of the doorway, her brown
hair swept high on her head, wearing a long white
skirt, a white tank top, a man,s unbuttoned
workshirt. -nd a light lipstick because she knows my
weakness for girlie things. Now her sane medium
build and middling good looks are breathtaking. "he
hides from me her clenched, polished teeth. Who is
that monster in my *edH You &refer that "ma+on to
meH 4ow dare youH 2et your ass out of that tu*
and rid our home of that *itch5
7ut she says none of these things.
"he says, /2 don,t see why it is that you don,t love
me,1 and steps forward, deeper into the bathroom,
crossing the small distance between door and tub in
four steps, instead of the usual two. .ith those extra
steps she gives me a chance to formulate a response,
one that will save the moment, dispute her
statement, wash away her hurt. "ay, What do you
mean not love you, of course 7 do, 7 do, 7 do. 6r say,
#omeone in our *edH Your eyes are &laying trics
on you. 6r say, What did you e;&ectH 7 am what 7
am, a twentyDsi;DyearDold man who naturally
dreads the - word, commitment, as others do
cancer.
7ut 2 do the worst thing, though 2 won,t know it
for years. 2 close my eyes and allow her to approach.
2 feel her steps, feel her kneel by the tub. 2 smell
her citrusy perfume, a fresh, recent application,
barely diluted by her own sweat and oils, the
fragrance borne by the vapor rising from the bath.
"he scoops water with her hand hooked like a
flamingo,s beak, and she might have shared the
wildly strange coloring of that fabulous bird *ust
then, so incomprehensible is she. /&his is the last,1
she says. /2t,s done. &here,s nothing in me that
forgives you.1 .hen she brings the water up to my
head 2 cower, as if what rains down were sharp
pieces of glass. &he water trickles through her
fingers and falls on my hair and into my eyes.
"he washes my back, shampoos my hair. 2 lift my
head, defying the force of her hands, and look at her
ama$ed through the bubbles. "he is two people4 she,s
52
biting her bottom lip, trembling, though fighting
back tears, but on top her big brown eyes have
shrunken to tiny pellets of anger and hate. "he
pushes my head forward, chin to chest, and digging
her fingers once again into my soapy hair works such
a thick lather that when she massages my scalp it
feels as if the top of my head were falling off. -s if
she has hold of my mind, pulling me this way then
that.
"he says, /2f 2 had my pliers here, you know what
2,d do0 2,d yank every tooth from her fucking head.1
"trangely enough, her voice is stripped of hurt or
passion.
-nd that is what breaks my heart4 2 am her
earth!uake, her hurricane, her personal flood.
3oesn,t she see that0 2 want to save her. 2 should
know the way, simply follow her example. &ell her to
stay angry, let it grow and abscess, until her only
alternative is to yank me from her life.
7ut the moment passes when she starts rinsing my
hair, both hands scooping water.
"he helps me from the bath. +y legs are wobbly,
and 2 have to touch her here and there for support.
5verywhere 2 touch her blue workshirt 2 leave a dark
handprint that spreads.
"he grabs a large purple towel. "he holds it open,
stretched wide between her hands, and after the
slightest hesitation 2 go to her, let her wrap the towel
over my head, across my shoulders, let her pull my
body against hers. /2t,s over,1 she says, working the
towel roughly, /it,s like you,re dead now.1 2 am
da$ed, spinning wildly inside, losing myself in this
dark, sheltering place, under the wing of some
strange bird.
/-n ambitious and
appealing first novel,
brilliant in its scathing
insightsX Louie,s
coruscating novel is ull
of astonishing writing,
but the real delight is his wit and humor as
he keeps plucking away the rickly petals of
his characters, desires until he finds their
hearts.1
GPu*lishers Weely
/Louie is elegant, funny, a touch spooky,
and he has as fine a hair%trigger control of
alienation and absurdity as any of the best
of his generation.1
G8ichard 5der, Aew Yor Aewsday
/Louie,s work transcends the restrictions of
ethnic labels and markets4 'e,s not *ust a
talented young sian%-merican writer; he,s a
talented young write, period.1
G(harles "olomon, $os "ngeles Times
Boo Review
Chinese=/merican seeks identity in
ironic tale
$y Ro$in "idimos
&he chasm between generations is both deep
and wide in The Bar*arians "re -oming.
2n his first novel, 3avid .ong Louie narrates
the trials of a first%generation (hinese%-merican
struggling through cultural divides to reconcile his
roles as son, husband father and adult. 2t,s a darkly
comic story filled with irony, but this entertaining
tale of one man,s growth into his heritage, and into
understanding maturity, is ultimately !uite moving.
"terling Lung, a HE%year%old bachelor, is out on
his own and struggling mightily to settle into his
skin. - recent graduate of the prestigious (ulinary
2nstitute of -merica, he,s taken his first *ob as the
resident chef for the 7ridgefield Ladies, (lub. &he
only clouds on his optimistic hori$on are the
pervasive expectations of the (onnecticut ladies at
the club, of his parents, even of his best friend the
local butcher, that he act as (hinese as he looks.
Sought distance
2t,s a familiar and long%running battle. "terling,
the youngest of four children and his parents, only
son, has gone to great lengths to distance himself
from the pervasive culture of his immigrant parents.
'is parents, long%standing plan involves an
arranged marriage to a (hinese girl of their
choosing. "terling responds by defiantly avoiding
any relationships with 6riental women, saying he
finds them as attractive as another sister.
'e sidesteps his parents, career plans for him,
subversively pursuing cooking over a medical career.
'e,s not even a good (hinese chef, preferring to
concentrate his efforts on mastering French cuisine.
'is unspoken but well%demonstrated life goal is to
be as -merican as possible.
'is ongoing battle with parents 9enius and Psa
Psa has receded to background noise when he gets a
call from his current girlfriend. 7liss, a nice ewish
girl from (onnecticut, takes a weekend break from
53
her dental school stint to tell "terling he,s going to be
a father.
Takes the lunge
Faced with the imminent reality of giving his
parents a much%wanted grandson, though not !uite
in the way they,d hoped, "terling agrees to marry
7liss. 2t,s a step that plunges him into a new culture,
different from the one he,s worked to escape, but one
whose rules and traditions are e!ually strong.
&his plot lays good groundwork for a fine
comedy of manners. Louie, however, delves deep
under this surface with rich results. -s "terling,
through his sons, is drawn into a ewish culture, he,s
also pulled into the (hinese one. 2t,s a *ourney he
pursues under duress, but it is the only path open to
him that will lead to an understanding of who he is.
The Bar*arians "re -oming is told largely as a
first%person narrative, from "terling,s point of view.
2t is an effective device that draws the reader into the
mind and heart of this solipsistic, often sarcastic,
young man.
'is determination to escape his parents,
controlling grasp is understandable, but a story told
from only "terling,s point of view would be shallow
and unbalanced. Full understanding dawns when
Louie inserts flashbacks from 9enius, life as a
struggling immigrant. 2t then becomes clear that
9enius, love, an emotion that "terling thought
nonexistent, was truly there, though it was
demonstrated through meeting responsibilities, not
through gestures of affection or even approval.
&he picture that emerges is a culture of duty,
certainly felt by the son for the father, but *ust as
clearly from the father to the son. 2t,s a revelation
that doesn,t make the picture warmer or happier, but
does make it understandable.
&he heart of the book lies in "terling,s
acceptance of himself, and his father, in the context
of both cultures, and ultimately accepting that the
(hinese and -merican pieces are both essential
parts of his being.
.The 3enver Post
Ro*in 6idimos is a freelance writer and *oo
reviewer who regularly contri*utes to Buzz in the
Burbs.
Book Re'ie#8 Fall A,,,8 Ploughshares
re'9 o!
The Barbarians Are Coming
$y 7a'id 6ong Louie
b !on Lee
"terling Lung has problems. &he narrator of 3avid
.ong Louie,s first novel, The Bar*arians "re
-oming, is a recent graduate of the (2-Gthe
(ulinary 2nstitute of -mericaGand he has landed
what he regards as a plum *ob, cooking haute cuisine
lunches at a .asp ladies, club in (onnecticut. 7ut
soon enough, "terling,s parents conspire to import a
picture bride, Yuk, from 'ong :ong for him to
marry and carry on the Lung line; his sometime
girlfriend, 7liss, a ewish dental student, announces
that she,s pregnant; his father falls ill with renal
cancer; and the snotty ladies at the club, who /talk
without moving their lips,1 want him to cook, of all
things, (hinese dishes, that /barefoot food, eat%with%
sticks food. Under harvest moons, rinse off the
maggots, slice, and steam . . . s!uatting%in%still%water
food. #ole%across%your%shoulders, hooves%in%the%
house food.1
'is entire life, he has been rebelling against his
culture and his parents, immigrants who have the
droll nicknames of 9enius and Psa Psa. "terling
grew up in the back of their laundry in Lynbrook,
Long 2sland, and instead of becoming a doctor as
they,d wished, he went to "warthmore and ma*ored
in art history, then trained to become a French chef.
/2n their eyes 2 was a scoundrel, a dumb%as%dirt
ingrate. &his was the reward for their sacrifice,
leaving home for -merica, for lean lives among the
barbarians.1 'e has proved to be a particular
disappointment to his father, with whom his
relationship has always been remote and cold.
3uring one hilarious and poignant scene, 9enius
seems to cherish a used refrigerator more than his
son, lovingly wiping it down after it has been
installed4 /(ut off from the rest of the family, my
father basked in the refrigerator,s chilled air, its
silvery vapors, its measly light,s glow. .hat 2 saw in
my father,s gentle cleaning of each egg holder,s deep
dimple was kindness, and the pang 2 felt, like fingers
fanning in my throat, was envy.1
-s in his story collection, Pangs of Love" Louie
draws great humor from clashes of assimilation.
"ome of the best moments in The Barbarians
Are Coming involve +orton "ass, 7liss,s father, a
mendacious investor who convinces "terling, after
he marries 7liss and bears two sons, to host a
cooking show on cable &<. Later, "ass sells the rights
to the show, and it,s retooled into a humiliating
(hinese parody called The Peeking !u#k" with
"terling assuming the voice of 'op "ing, the
houseboy on Bonanza" as he gives viewers what
they want4 /&oday 2 make velly famous dish . . .
"hlimp and robster sauceL &his one velly good and
velly chlicky dish. -w time peoples say, T.ahL .here
is robster0, 1
Yet the heart and power of Louie,s novel lies more in
the tragedy, not the comedy, of the Lung menGthe
father, doomed by a love affair with a white woman
when he first arrives in the U.".; the son, while
begrudging his father,s aloofness, unable to see the
selfish distance he himself creates, failing his
parents, wife, and children, all in the /desperate
attempt to overcome the unremarkableness of being
a Lung.1
-on .ee is the author o& a ne# noel/ Wrack and $uin.
0e is also the author o& the noel Countr of 1rigin<
#hich #on an 1merican Boo2 1#ard/ the 3d!ar 1#ard
&or Best First 4oel/ and a Mixed Media 5atch 6ma!e
54
1#ard &or 7utstandin! Fiction/ and the story collection
=ello>< #hich #on the 8ue 9au&man :ri;e &or First
Fiction &rom the 1merican 1cademy o& 1rts and .etters.
0e receied the 2,,7 Fred <. Bro#n .iterary 1#ard
&rom the =niersity o& :itts(ur!h. 0e has receied an 7.
0enry 1#ard and a :ushcart :ri;e/ and his stories hae
(een %u(lished The ?enon $e"ie>< ,@< Ne> Angland
$e"ie>< The North American $e"ie>< The ,etts%urg
$e"ie>< Bam%oo $idge< Manoa< American (hort
Fiction< and ,limmer Train. From 1+*+ to 2,,7/ he #as
the editor o& the literary >ournal 5loughshares. From
2,,7 to 2,,*/ he tau!ht creatie #ritin! at Macalester
Colle!e in 8t. :aul. 0e #ill (e!in teachin! in the !raduate
creatie #ritin! %ro!ram at 5estern Michi!an =niersity/
in 9alama;oo/ Michi!an/ in the &all o& 2,,*.
55
4
<aymond Carer
6hat 6e Talk /$out
6hen 6e Talk /$out Lo'e
+y friend +el +c9innis was talking. +el
+c9innis is a cardiologist, and sometimes that gives
him the right.
&he four of us were sitting around his kitchen
table drinking gin. "unlight filled the kitchen from
the big window behind the sink. &here were +el and
me and his second wife, &eresaG&erri, we called her
Gand my wife, Laura. .e lived in -lbu!uer!ue
then. 7ut we were all from somewhere else.
&here was an ice bucket on the table. &he gin and
the tonic water kept going around, and we somehow
got on the sub*ect of love. +el thought real love was
nothing less than spiritual love. 'e said he,d spent
five years in a seminary before !uitting to go to
medical school. 'e said he still looked back on
those years in the seminary as the most important in
his life.
&erri said the man she lived with before she lived
with +el loved her so much he tried to kill her.
&hen &erri said, /'e beat me up one night. 'e
dragged me around the living room by my ankles. 'e
kept saying, T2 love you, 2 love you, you bitch., 'e
went on dragging me around the living room. +y
head kept knocking on things.1 &erri looked around
the table . /.hat do you do with love like that01
"he was a bone%thin woman with a pretty face,
dark eyes, and brown hair that hung down her back.
"he liked necklaces made of tur!uoise, and long
pendant earrings.
/+y 9od, don,t be silly. &hat,s not love, and you
know it,1 +el said. /2 don,t know what you,d call it,
but 2 sure know you wouldn,t call it love.1
/"ay what you want to, but 2 know it was ,1 &erri
said. / 2t may sound cra$y to you, but it,s true *ust
the same. #eople are different, +el . "ure,
sometimes he may have acted cra$y. 6kay. 7ut he
loved me. 2n his own way, maybe, but he loved me.
&here was love there, +el . 3on,t say there wasn,t .1
+el let out his breath. 'e held his glass and
turned to Laura and me. /&he man threatened to kill
me, / +el said. 'e finished his drink and reached for
the gin bottle. /&erri,s a romantic. &erri,s of the
T:ick%me%so%2,ll%know%you%love%me, school. &erri,
hon, don,t look that way.1 +el reached across the
table and touched &erri,s cheek with his fingers. 'e
grinned at her.
/Now he wants to make up,1 &erri said.
/+ake up what01 +el said. /.hat is there to
make up0 2 know what 2 know. &hat,s all.1
/'ow,d we get started on this sub*ect anyway01
&erri said. "he raised her glass and drank from it.
/'erb always has love on his mind,1 she said. /3on,t
you, honey01 "he smiled, and 2 thought that was the
last of it.
/2 *ust wouldn,t call 5d Ts behavior love. &hat,s all
2,m saying, honey,1 +el said. /.hat about you
guys01 +el said to Laura and me. /3oes that sound
like love to you01
/2,m the wrong person to ask,1 2 said. /2 didn,t
even know the man. 2,ve only heard his name
mentioned in passing. 2 wouldn,t know. You,d have
to know all the particulars. 7ut 2 think what you,re
saying is that love is an absolute. /
+el said, /&he kind of love 2,m talking about is.
&he kind of love 2,m talking about, you don,t try to
kill people.1
Laura said , /2 don,t know anything about 5d , or
anything about the situation. 7ut who can *udge
anyone else,s situation01
2 touched the back of Laura,s hand. "he gave me a
!uick smile. 2 picked up Laura,s hand. 2t was warm,
the nails polished, perfectly manicured. 2 encircled
the broad wrist with my fingers, and 2 held her.
/.hen 2 left he drank rat poison,1 &erri said. "he
clasped her arms with her hands. /&hey took him to
the hospital in "anta Fe. &hat,s where we lived then,
about ten miles out. &hey saved his life. 7ut his gums
went cra$y from it. . 2 mean they pulled away from
his teeth. -fter that his teeth stood out like fangs. +y
9od,1 &erri said. "he waited a minute, then let go of
her arms and picked up her glass.
/.hat people won,t doL1 Laura said.
/'e,s out of the action now,1 +el said. /'e,s
dead.1
+el handed me the saucer of limes. 2 took a
section, s!uee$ed it over my drink, and stirred the
ice cubes with my finger.
/2t gets worse,1 &erri said. /'e shot himself in the
mouth. 7ut he bungled that too. #oor 5d ,1 she said.
&erri shook her head.
/#oor 5d nothing,1 +el said. /'e was
dangerous.1
+el was forty%five years old. 'e was tall and
rangy with curly soft hair. 'is face and arms were
brown from the tennis he played. .hen he was
sober, his gestures, all his movements, were precise,
very careful.
/'e did love me though, +el. 9rant me that,1
&erri said. /&hat,s all 2,m asking. 'e didn,t love me
the way you love me. 2,m not saying that. 7ut he
loved me. You can grant me that, can,t you0 /
/.hat do you mean, 'e bungled it01 2 said .
Laura leaned forward with her glass. "he put her
elbows on the table and held her glass in both hands.
"he glanced from +el to &erri and waited with a
56
look of bewilderment on her open face, as if ama$ed
that such things happened to people you were
friendly with .
/'ow,d he bungle it when he killed himself01 2
said .
/2,ll tell you what happened,1 +el said. /'e took
this twenty%two pistol he,d bought to threaten &erri
and me with. 6h , 2,m serious, the man was always
threatening. You should have seen the way we lived
in those days. Like fugitives. 2 even bought a gun
myself. (an you believe it0 - guy like me0 7ut 2 did. 2
bought one for self%defense and carried it in the
glove compartment. "ometimes 2,d have to leave the
apartment in the middle of the night. &o go to the
hospital, you know0 &erri and 2 weren,t married
then, and my first wife had the house and kids, the
dog, everything, and &erri and 2 were living in this
apartment here. "ometimes, as 2 say, 2,d get a call in
the middle of the night and have to go in to the
hospital at two or three in the morning. 2t,d be dark
out there in the parking lot and 2,d break into a
sweat before 2 could even get to my car. 2 never knew
if he was going to come up out of the shrubbery or
from behind a car and start shooting. 2 mean, the
man was cra$y. 'e was capable of wiring a bomb,
anything. 'e used to call my service at all hours and
say he needed to talk to the doctor, and when 2,d
return the call he,d say, T"on of a bitch, your days are
numbered., Little things like that. 2t was scary, 2,m
telling you.1
/2 still feel sorry for him,1 &erri said.
/2t sounds like a nightmare,1 Laura said. /7ut
what exactly happened after he shot himself01
Laura is a legal secretary. .e,d met in a
professional capacity. 7efore we knew it, it was a
courtship. "he,s thirty%five, three years younger than
2 am. 2n addition to being in love, we like each other
and en*oy one another,s company. "he,s easy to be
with.
/.hat happened01 Laura asked again.
+el said, /'e shot himself in the mouth in his
room. "omeone heard the shot and told the
manager. &hey came in with a passkey, saw what
had happened, and called an ambulance. 2 happened
to be there when they brought him, alive, but past
recall . &he man lived for three days. 'is head
swelled up to twice the si$e of a normal head. 2,d
never seen anything like it, and 2 hope 2 never do
again. &erri wanted to go in and sit with him when
she found out about it. .e had a fight over it. 2
didn,t think she should see him like that. 2 didn,t
think she should see him, and 2 still don,t.1
/.ho won the fight01 Laura said.
/2 was in the room with him when he died,1 &erri
said. /'e never came up out of it. 7ut 2 sat with him.
'e didn,t have anyone else.1
/'e was dangerous,1 +el said. /2f you call that
love, you can have it.1
/2t was love,1 &erri said. /"ure it was abnormal in
most people,s eyes. 7ut he was willing to die for it.
'e did die for it.1
/2 sure as hell wouldn,t call it love,1 +el said. /2
mean, no one knows what he did it for. 2,ve seen a
lot of suicides, and 2 couldn,t say anyone ever knew
what they did it for . /
+el put his hands behind his neck and tilted his
chair back . /2,m not interested in that kind of love,1
he said. /2f that,s love, you can have it.1
&erri said, /.e were afraid. +el even made a
will out and wrote to his brother in (alifornia who
used to be a 9reen 7eret. +el told him who to look
for if something happened to him
&erri drank from her glass. "he said, /7ut +el,s
rightGwe lived like fugitives. .e were afraid. +el
was, weren,t you, honey0 2 even called the police at
one point, but they were no help. &hey said they
couldn,t do anything until 5d actually did
something. 2sn,t that a laugh01 &erri said.
"he poured the last of the gin into her glass and
waggled the bottle. +el got up from the table and
went to the cupboard. 'e took down another bottle.
/.ell, Nick and 2 know what love is / Laura said.
/For us, 2 mean, / Laura said. "he bumped my knee
with her knee. /You,re supposed to say something
now,1 Laura said, and turned her smile on me.
For an answer, 2 took Laura,s hand and raised it
to my lips. 2 made a big production out of kissing her
hand. 5veryone was amused.
/.e,re lucky,1 2 said.
/You guys,1 &erri said. /"top that now. You,re
making me sick. You,re still on a honeymoon, for
9od,s sake . You,re still gaga, for crying out loud .
ust wait. 'ow long have you been together now0
'ow long has it been0 - year0 Longer than a year.1
/9oing on a year and a half,1 Laura said, flushed
and smiling.
/6h, now ,1 &erri said. /.ait a while.1
"he held her drink and ga$ed at Laura.
/2,m only kidding,1 &erri said.
+el opened the gin and went around the table
with the bottle.
/ 'ere, you guys,1 he said. /Let,s have a toast. 2
want to propose a toast. - toast to love. &o true
love,1 +el said.
.e touched glasses.
/&o love,1 we said.
6utside in the backyard, one of the dogs began to
bark. &he leaves of the aspen that leaned past the
window ticked against the glass . &he afternoon
sunlight was like a presence in thise room, the
spacious light of ease and generosity. .e could have
been anywhere, somewhere enchanted. .e raised
our glasses again and grinned at each other like
children who had agreed on something forbidden .
/2,ll tell you what real love is,1 +el said. /2 mean,
2,ll give you a good example. -nd then you can draw
your own conclusions.1 'e poured more gin into his
glass. 'e added an ice cube and a sliver of lime. .e
waited and sipped our drinks. Laura and 2 touched
knees again. 2 put a hand on her warm thigh and left
it there.
/.hat do any of us really know about love01 +el
said. /2t seems to me we,re *ust beginners at love.
.e say we love each other and we do, 2 don,t doubt
it. 2 love &erri and &erri loves me, and you guys love
each other too. You know the kind of love 2,m talking
about now. #hysical love, that impulse that drives
you to someone special, as well as love of the other
person,s being, his or her essence, as it were . (arnal
love and, well, call it sentimental love, the day%to%
day caring about the other person. 7ut sometimes 2
have a hard time accounting for the fact that 2 must
57
have loved my first wife too. 7ut 2 did, 2 know 2 did.
"o 2 suppose 2 am like &erri in that regard. &erri
and 5d .1 'e thought about it and then he went on.
/&here was a time when 2 thought 2 loved my first
wife more than life itself. 7ut now 2 hate her guts. 2
do. 'ow do you explain that0 .hat happened to
that love0 .hat happened to it, is what 2,d like to
know. 2 wish someone could tell me. &hen there,s 5d
. 6kay, we,re back to 5d . 'e loves &erri so much he
tries to kill her and he winds up killing himself.1 +el
stopped talking and swallowed from his glass . /You
guys have been together eighteen months and you
love each other. 2 t shows all over you. You glow
with it. 7ut you both loved other people before you
met each other. You,ve both been married before,
*ust like us. -nd you probably loved other people
before that too, even. &erri and 2 have been together
five years, been married for four. -nd the terrible
thing, the terrible thing is, but the good thing, too,
the saving grace, you might say, is that if something
happened to one of usGexcuse me for saying thisG
but if something happened to one of us tomorrow, 2
think the other one, the other person , would grieve
for a while, you know, but then the surviving party
would go out and love again, have someone else soon
enough. -ll this, all of this love we,re talking about it
would *ust be a memory. +aybe not even a memory.
-m 2 wrong0 -m 2 way off base0 7ecause 2 want you
to set me straight if you think 2,m wrong. 2 want to
know. 2 mean, 2 don,t know anything, and 2,m the
first one to admit it.1
/+el , for 9od,s sake,1 &erri said. "he reached
out and took hold of his wrist. /-re you getting
drunk0 'oney0 -re you drunk01
/'oney, 2,m *ust talking,1 +el said. /-ll right0 2
don,t have to be drunk to say what 2 think . 2 mean,
we,re all *ust talking, right01 +el said. 'e fixed his
eyes on her.
/"weetie , 2,m not critici$ing,1 &erri said.
"he picked up her glass.
/2,m not on call today,1 +el said. /Let me remind
you of that. 2 am not on call .1
/+el , we love you,1 Laura said.
+el looked at Laura. 'e looked at her as if he
couldn,t place her, as if she was not the woman she
was.
/Love you too, Laura,1 +el said. /-nd you, Nick,
love you too. You know something01 +el said. /You
guys are our pals,1 +el said.
'e picked up his glass.
+el said, /2 was going to tell you about
something. 2 mean, 2 was going to prove a point.
You see, this happened a few months ago, but it,s
still going on right now, and it ought to make us feel
ashamed when we talk like we know what we, re
talking about when we talk about love.1
/(ome on now,1 &erri said. / 3on,t talk like
you,re drunk if you,re not drunk.1
/ust shut up for once in your life, / +el said very
!uietly. /.ill you do me a favor and do that for a
minute0 "o as 2 was saying, there,s this old couple
who had this car wreck out on the interstate0 - kid
hit them and they were all torn to shit and nobody
was giving them much chance to pull through. /
&erri looked at us and then back at +el . "he
seemed anxious, or maybe that,s too strong a word.
+el was handing the bottle around the table.
/2 was on call that night,1 +el said. /2t was in
+ay or maybe it was une. &erri and 2 had *ust sat
down to dinner when the hospital called. &here,d
been this thing out on the interstate. 3runk kid,
teenager, plowed his dad,s pickup into this camper
with this old couple in it. &hey were up in their mid%
seventies, that couple. &he kidG eighteen, nineteen,
somethingGhe was 36-. &aken the steering wheel
through his sternum. &he old couple, they were
alive, you understand. 2 mean, *ust barely. 7ut they
had everything. +ultiple fractures , internal
in*uries, hemorrhaging, contusions, lacerations, the
works, and they each of them had themselves
concussions. &hey were in a bad way, believe me.
-nd, of course, their age was two strikesagainst
them. 2,d say she was worse off than he was.
8uptured spleen along with everything else. 7oth
kneecaps broken. 7ut they,d been wearing their
seatbelts and, 9od knows, that,s what saved them
for the time being.1
/Folks, this is an advertisement for the National
"afety (ouncil,1 &erri said. /&his is your spokesman,
3octor +elvin 8. +c9innis, talking. / &erri laughed.
/+el,1 she said, /sometimes you,re *ust too much
sometimes. 7ut 2 love you, hon,ey / "he said.
/'oney, 2 love you,1 +el said.
'e leaned across the table. &erri met him
halfway. &hey kissed.
/&erri,s right, / +el said as he settled himself
again. /9et those seatbelts on . 7ut seriously, they
were in some shape, those oldsters . 7y the time 2
got down there, the kid was dead, as 2 said. 'e was
off in a corner, laid out on a gurney. 2 took one look
at the old couple and told the 58 nurse to get me a
neurologist and an orthopedic man and a couple of
surgeons down there right away.1
'e drank from his glass. /2,ll try to keep this
short,1 he said. /"o we took the two of them up to the
68 and worked like fuck on them most of the night
&hey had these incredible reserves, those two . You
see that once in a while. "o we did everything that
could be done, and toward morning we, re giving
them a fifty%fifty chance, maybe less than that for her
. "o here they are, still alive the next morning. "o,
okay, we move them into the 2(U, which is where
they both kept plugging away at it for two weeks,
hitting it better and better on all the scopes. "o we
transfer them out to their own room.
+el stopped talking. /'ere,1 he said, /let,s drink
this cheapo gin the hell up. &hen we,re going to
dinner, right0 &erri and 2 know a new place. &hat,s
where we,ll go, to this new place we know about. 7ut
we,re not going until we finish up this cut%rate, lousy
gin. /
&erri said, /.e haven,t actually eaten there yet.
7ut it looks good. From the outside, you know.1
/2 like food,1 +el said. /2f 2 had it to do all over
again, 2,d be a chef, you know0 8ight, &erri01 +el
said.
'e laughed. 'e fingered the ice in his glass.
/&erri knows. &erri can tell you. 7ut let me say
this. 2f 2 could come back again in a different life, a
different time and all, you know what0 2,d like to
come back as a knight. You were pretty safe wearing
all that armor. 2t was all right being a knight until
gunpowder and muskets and pistols came along.1
5*
/+el would like to ride a horse and carry a
lance,1 &erri said.
/(arry a woman,s scarf with you everywhere,1
Laura said.
/6r *ust a woman,1 +el said.
/"hame on you,1 Laura said.
&erri said, /"uppose you came back as a serf. &he
serfs didn,t have it so good in those days,1 &erri said.
/&he serfs never had it good,1 +el said. /7ut 2
guess even the knights were vessels to someone. 2sn,t
that the way it worked0 7ut then everyone is always
a vessel to someone else. 2sn,t that right0 &erri0 7ut
what 2 liked about knights, besides their ladies, was
that they had that suit of armor, you know, and they
couldn,t get hurt very easy. No cars in those days,
you know0 No drunk teenagers to tear into your
ass .1
/<assals,1 &erri said.
/.hat01 +el said.
/<assals,1 +el said. /&hey were called vassals ,
not vessels .1
/<assals, vessels,1 +el said, /what the fuck,s the
difference0 You knew what 2 meant anyway. -ll
right ,1 +el said. /"o 2,m not educated. 2 learned my
stuff. 2,m a heart surgeon, sure, but 2,m *ust a
mechanic. 2 go in and 2 fuck around and 2 fix things.
"hit,1 +el said.
/+odesty doesn,t become you,1 &erri said.
/'e,s *ust a humble sawbones ,1 2 said. /7ut
sometimes they suffocated in all that armor, +el .
&hey,d even have heart attacks if it got too hot and
they were too tired and worn out. 2 read somewhere
that they,d fall off their horses and not be able to get
up because they were too tired to stand with all that
armor on them. &hey got trampled by their own
horses sometimes.1
/&hat,s terrible,1 +el said. /&hat,s a terrible
image, Nicky. 2 guess they,d *ust lay there and wait
until somebody came along and made a shish kebab
out of them.1
/"ome other vessel ,1 &erri said.
/&hat,s right,1 +el said. / "ome vassal would
come along and spear the bastard in the name of
love. 6r whatever the fuck it was they fought over in
those days.1
/"ame things we fight over these days,1 +el said.
Laura said, /Nothing,s changed.1
&he color was still high in Laura,s cheeks. 'er
eyes were bright. "he brought her glass to her lips.
+el poured himself another drink. 'e looked at
the label closely as if studying a long row of numbers
. &hen he slowly put the bottle down on the table and
reached for the tonic water.
/.hat about the old couple01 Laura said. /You
didn,t finish that story you started.1
Laura was having a hard time lighting her
cigarette. 'er matches kept going out.
&he sunshine inside the room was different now,
changing, getting thinner . 7ut the leaves outside
the window were still shimmering, and 2 stared at
the pattern they made on the panes and on the
Formica counter. &hey weren,t the same patterns, of
course.
/.hat about that old couple01 2 said.
/6lder but wiser,1 &erri said.
+el stared at her.
&erri said, /9o on with your story, hon. 2 was
only kidding. &hen what happened01
/&erri, sometimes,1 +el said.
/#lease, +el ,1 &erri said. /3on,t always be so
serious, sweetie. (an,t you take a *oke01
/.here,s the *oke0 / +el said.
'e held his glass and ga$ed steadily at his wife .
/.hat happened01 Laura said.
+el fastened his eyes on Laura. 'e said, /Laura,
if 2 didn,t have &erri and if 2 didn,t love her so much,
and if Nick wasn,t my best friend, 2,d fall in love with
you. 2,d carry you off, honey, / 'e said.
/&ell your story,1 &erri said. / &hen we,ll go to
that new place, okay 01
/6kay,1 +el said. /.here was 201 he said. 'e
stared at the table and then he began again .
/ 2 dropped in to see each of them every day,
sometimes twice a day if 2 was up doing other calls
anyway. ( asts and bandages, head to foot, the both
of them. You know, you,ve seen it in the movies .
&hat,s *ust the way they looked, *ust like in the
movies . Little eye%holes and nose%holes and mouth%
holes. -nd she had to have her legs slung up on top
of it. .ell, the husband was very depressed for the
longest while. 5ven after he found out that his wife
was going to pull through , he was still very
depressed. Not about the accident , though . 2 mean,
the accident was one thing, but it wasn,t everything.
2,d get up to his mouth%hole, you know, and he,d say
no, it wasn,t the accident exactly but it was because
he couldn,t see her through his eye%holes. 'e said
that was what was making him feel so bad. (an you
imagine0 2,m telling you, the man,s heart was
breaking because he couldn,t turn his goddamn head
and see his goddamn wife.1
+el looked around the table and shook his head
at what he was going to say.
/2 mean, it was killing the old fart *ust becayse he
couldn,t loo at the fucking woman.1
.e all looked at +el.
/3o you see what 2,m saying01
+aybe we were a little drunk by then. 2 know it
was hard keeping things in focus. &he light was
draining out of the room, going back through the
window where it had come from. Yet nobody made a
move to get up from the table to turn on the
overhead light,
/Listen,1 +el said . /Let,s finish this fucking gin.
&here,s about enough left here for one shooter all
around. &hen let,s go eat. Let,s go to the new place .1
/'e,s depressed ,1 &erri said. /+el , why don,t
you take a pill01
'erb shook his head. /2,ve taken everything there
is.1
/.e all need a pill now and then ,1 2 said.
/"ome people are born needing them ,1 &erri
said. "he was using her finger to rub at something on
the table. &hen she stopped rubbing.
/2 think 2 want to call my kids before we go eat,1
+el said. /2s that all right with everybody0 2,ll call
my kids, / 'e said.
&erri said, /.hat if +ar*orie answers the phone0
You guys, you,ve heard us on the sub*ect of +ar*orie.
'oney, you know you don,t want to talk to +ar*orie.
2t,ll make you feel even worse.1
/ 2 don,t want to talk to +ar*orie,1 +el said. /7ut
2 want to talk to my kids.1
5+
/&here isn,t a day goes by that +el doesn,t say he
wishes she,d get married again. 6r else die,1 &erri
said. /For one thing,1 &erri said, /she,s bankrupting
us. +el says it,s *ust to spite him that she won,t get
married again. "he has a boyfriend who lives with
her and the kids , so +el is supporting the boyfriend
too .1
/"he,s allergic to bees,1 +el said. /2f 2,m not
praying she,ll get married again, 2,m praying she,ll
get herself stung to death by a swarm of fucking
bees.1
/"hame on you, / Laura said.
/7$$$$$$,1 +el said, turning his fingers into bees
and bu$$ing them at &erri,s throat. &hen he let his
hands drop all the way to his sides .
/"he,s vicious,1 +el said. /"ometimes 2 think 2,ll
go up there dressed like a beekeeper. You know, that
hat that,s like a helmet with the plate that comes
down over your face, the big gloves, and the padded
coat0 2,ll knock on the door and let loose a hive of
bees in the house. 7ut first 2,d make sure the kids
were out, of course.1
'e crossed one leg over the other. &hen he put
both feet on the floor and leaned forward, elbows on
the table, his chin cupped in his hands.
/+aybe 2 won,t call the kids, after all. +aybe it
isn,t such a hot idea. +aybe we,ll *ust go eat. 'ow
does that sound01
/"ounds fine to me,1 2 said. /5at or not eat. 6r
keep drinking. 2 could head right on out into the
sunset.1
/.hat does that mean, honey01 Laura said.
/2t *ust means what 2 said,1 2 said . /2t means 2
could *ust keep going. &hat,s all it means .1
/2 could eat something myself,1 Laura said. /2
don,t think 2,ve ever been so hungry in my life. 2s
there something to nibble on 01
/2,ll put out some cheese and crackers,1 &erri
said.
7ut &erri *ust sat there. "he did not get up to get
anything.
+el turned his glass over. 'e spilled it out on the
table.
/9in,s gone,1 +el said.
&erri said, /Now what01
2 could hear my heart beating. 2 could hear
everyone,s heart. 2 could hear the human noise we
sat there making, not one of us moving, not even
when the room went dark. M=>@=N
Critical .ssay on8
6hat 6e Talk /$out
6hen 6e Talk /$out Lo'e
By Liz Brent
(arver is best known for his minimalist writing style,
as embodied in a sparse use of language and paired
down prose. 'e is also known as a neo%realist,
capturing the working class milieu of blue%collar
-merica with his mundane, naturalistic, everyday
dialogue. Nevertheless, he does make use of
figurative language throughout /.hat .e &alk
-bout .hen .e &alk -bout Love1 by exploring its
central themes of love, relationships,
communication, and alcoholism. &hrough the
imagery of the knight,s armor, the beekeeper,s
protective clothing, the /pill1 and the word /heart,1
(arver demonstrates that the surface level
conversation of his four characters is only the tip of
an emotional iceberg.
&he image of the human /heart1 takes on figurative
connotations in the story, as it is referred to both in
the mechanical sense, of the functioning of the
human heart, and the symbolic sense, as the organ of
love. "ince the character of +el dominates the
conversation, much of the figurative language is
expressive of his own feelings about the sub*ect of
love. &he image of the human /heart1 takes on
figurative connotations in the story, as it is referred
to both in the mechanical sense, of the functioning of
the human heart, and the symbolic sense, as the
organ of love. +el is a cardiologist, a doctor who
operates on people,s hearts. &he opening sentences
of the story, in retrospect, play on the irony of +el, a
heart doctor, claiming to be an expert on matters of
the heart4 /+y friend +el +c9innis was talking. +el
+c9innis is a cardiologist, so sometimes that gives
him the right.1 +el even describes his own work as
that of /*ust a mechanic,1 marking the difference
between expertise in heart surgery and knowledge of
6,
/true love.1 .hen he tells the story of the old couple
in*ured in the near%fatal car accident, the word
/heart1 again takes on a double meaning. +el
concludes his story, in which the old man and
woman are so bandaged up that they cannot see each
other even though their beds are next to each other
in the same hospital room, by stating that /the man,s
heart was breaking because he couldn,t turn his
goddamn head and see his goddamn wife.1 +el is
using the word /heart1 in the figurative sense here,
but it also refers back to the fact that +el himself
had been the attending cardiologist for the old
couple in the aftermath of the car accident.
-nother central element of figurative speech in this
story revolves around +el,s mention that, if he could
come back in a different life, he would want to be a
/knight.1 +el,s fascination with the armor worn by a
knight is perhaps a heavyhanded image of +el,s
need to protect himself emotionally against the
ravages of love. +el explains that /You were pretty
safe wearing all that armor.1 &he image is extended
to suggest that +el,s protective emotional armor has
failed to protect him against the dangers of new love4
/2t was all right being a knight until gunpowder and
muskets and pistols came along.1 +el goes on to
expand upon his fascination with the protective
armor of knights4 /what 2 liked about knights,
besides their ladies, was that they had that suit of
armor, you know, and they couldn,t get hurt very
easy.1 +el is expressing a desire to be protected from
getting /hurt1 at an emotional level in his
relationships with others.
-t this point, the discussion of the knight turns on a
pun that comes out of +el,s misuse of the term
/vessel1 when he means /vassal.1 - vassal is a
servant to another, and +el, using vessel by
accident, attempts to point out that even knights
were subservient to others. &he idea of servitude is
extended symbolically when +el points out, /7ut
then everyone is always a vessel to someone.1 -t this
point &erri corrects him, supplying the proper term,
vassal for vessel.
+el,s incorrect use of vessel has further figurative
implications. +el is an alcoholic, and a vessel is an
ob*ect designed to contain something, usually in
reference to a li!uid, as a cup or chalice. &hrough
this play on words, the connection is made to +el,s
use of alcohol, which he drinks out of a vessel, or
glass, as his means of protective armor against
emotional in*ury. Furthermore, a vessel, such as an
/empty vessel1 may be read figuratively to indicate
that everyone is a vessel to be filled with the love,
false or true, of another.
Nick, the narrator, points out to +el that the armor
worn by knights had its drawbacks. Nick,s comment
extends the metaphor of the armor as emotional
armor in explaining that one,s emotional defenses,
or armor, can end up suffocating the knight in the
name of protecting him from harm4
7ut sometimes they suffocated in all that armor,
+el. &hey,d even have heart attacks if it got too hot
and they were too tired and worn out.
&he image of the heart comes up here, implying that
the armor +el uses to protect himself from
emotional suffering in the name of love Ia /heart
attack1J can be the very cause of his suffering. 2n
reference to +el,s alcoholism, his use of alcohol to
protect himself from heartache may actually lead to
a heart attack in terms of the demise of his marriage
and other personal relationships, as well as some
form of heart attack in the sense that alcoholism can
be fatal. I&his may seem like a leap of logic, but,
given that this story was written not long after
(arver nearly died from alcoholism and eventually
!uit drinking, it is not an unreasonable
interpretation.J +el,s interest in armor as a means of
protecting himself from love is made clear when he
adds that, were a knight to be made vulnerable by
the weight of his armor, /"ome vassal would come
along and spear the bastard in the name of love.1
&he imagery of /taking a pill1 combines several
figurative themes in the story. -s +el becomes more
clearly drunk, his conversation ac!uires an
antagonistic edge.
T'e,s depressed,, &erri said. T+el, why don,t you take
a pill0, +el shook his head. T2,ve taken everything
there is., T.e all need a pill now and then,, 2 said.
T"ome people are born needing them,, &erri said.
'ere, the characters themselves are consciously
using the phrase /to take a pill1 in a figurative sense.
7ut the pill imagery also echoes with the fact that
+el is a doctor, whose *ob is, in general terms, to
give people pills to make them feel better. +el,s own
pill is clearly alcohol, and his comment that /2,ve
taken everything there is1 expresses a deep despair
at ever finding a cure for his personal heartaches.
&he figurative language combining the use of
alcohol, as contained in a vessel, or the swallowing of
a pill, as administered by a doctor, as a means of
curing the emotional pain caused by love, is also
expressed in &erri,s explanation that her abusive ex%
husband, 5d, drank rat poison when she left him.
Like +el,s consumption of alcohol, or his figurative
need /to take a pill,1 5d,s consumption of rat poison
is his own self%destructive attempt to medicate his
own emotional pain in the face of his /love1 for &erri.
&erri explains the effect of the poison; 5d,s life was
saved at the hospital, /but his gums went cra$y from
it. 2 mean they pulled away from his teeth. -fter that,
his teeth stood out like fangs.1 &he image of 5d,s
teeth turning into fangs symboli$es the fact that 5d,
an extremely violent and abusive man, is akin to a
beast who threatens &erri with his fangs. +ore
indirectly, there is a suggestion that, *ust as 5d,s
drinking of rat poison in an attempt to cure his
emotional pain turns him into a fanged beast, so
+el,s drinking of alcohol in an attempt to cure his
own emotional pain may be turning him into a beast,
posing a threat of danger to &erri.
+el later uses the imagery of a beekeeper,s
protective clothing to express a similar desire for
some form of protection from love. 2n discussing his
ex%wife +ar*orie, he explains that she is allergic to
61
bees, saying that /if 2,m not praying she,ll get
married again, 2,m praying she,ll get herself stung to
death by a swarm of f%%ing bees.1 'e then makes
what is perhaps his most outwardly menacing
gesture toward his wife4 /T7$$$$$$$,, +el said,
turning his fingers into bees and bu$$ing them at
&erri,s throat.1
+el,s expression of hatred for his ex%wife and his
wish that she would die is used as a thinly veiled
expression of a similar hatred for &erri. &he gesture
of bu$$ing his fingers around her neck combines the
figurative image of murder by bee sting into a more
literal physical gesture threateningly aimed at &erri,s
throat. &he armor imagery is echoed here in his
description of the beekeeper,s protective clothing4
"ometimes 2 think 2,ll go there dressed like a
beekeeper. You know, that hat that,s like a helmet
with the plate that comes down over your face, the
big gloves, and the padded coat0 2,ll knock on the
door and let loose a hive of bees in the house.
&he double implications of the word heart come back
into play in the closing image of the story. -s the two
couples sit in the dark in silence, the narrator
explains, /2 could hear my heart beating. 2 could hear
everyone,s heart.1 &he narrator uses the literal image
of a silence so profound that he can actually hear the
beating of his own and the others, hearts to express a
symbolic feeling that he can /hear everyone,s heart.1
2t is as if the excess of human emotion aroused by
the discussion of true love hums about the room
without any hope of articulate expression between
the two couples. &he term vessel, mentioned earlier,
is also echoed with +el,s enigmatic gesture in the
closing moments of the story, when he turns his
glass of gin upside down on the table. +el has
emptied his vessel of alcohol, the /gin,s gone,1 and
they are left with nothing but an ominous feeling of
emotional emptiness.
-lthough (arver is considered a minimalist writer,
whose stories take on meaning more in what is not
said than what is said, his use of figurative language
gives depth to his stories by expanding upon their
central themes.
"ource4 Li$ 7rent, (ritical 5ssay on /.hat .e &alk
-bout .hen .e &alk -bout Love,1 #hort #tories for
#tudents, <ol. =H, &he 9ale 9roup, HDD=.
Car'er4s Coules Talk /$out Lo'e
$y Fred Moramarco
/.hat .e &alk -bout .hen .e &alk -bout Love1 is
one of 8ay (arver,s best known stories and the title
of one of his ma*or collections. (arver probably used
the story as a title for a collection because many of
his stories express pu$$lement about the odd and
battered condition of love in the contemporary
world. 'e often uses his fiction to explore that
condition and reflect back to us *ust what it is that
we do talk about when we talk about love. /Love,1 of
course, is one of those words that has been so beaten
down in twentieth century discourse, particularly the
rhetoric of advertising and pop culture, that it,s hard
to know what anyone means by it anymore. &.".
5liot prefaced his /Love "ong of . -lfred #rufrock1
with a !uotation from 3ante,s 2nferno, anticipating
the hell that the word would suffer in a mass society
where some people, like 5rich "egal, who wrote the
immensely popular novel Love "tory in the early
seventies, think that love means /never having to say
you,re sorry,1 and others, like 7ob 3ylan, tell us that
Love is *ust a four letter word. .e love our mothers,
our 'ondas, our baseball teams and movie stars, as
well our favorite ice%cream flavors and pi$$a
toppings. &he word along with a picture of a cherub
adorns the ]= selling U.". postage stamp, and occurs
often in the titles of porno movies, religious
sermons, new age self%help guides, romantic novels,
and tv shows, including /&he Love 7oat,1 which
reminds us how often the word is used in association
with vacations, leisure time, romantic retreats,
sexual liaisons.
.here the word seems to provide most difficulty,
however, is in the area of human relationships,
particularly relationships between men and women.
2t also provides difficulties in relationships between
men and men as well as women and women, but
(arver,s focus, in this story and in most of his work,
is heterosexual love and its complications in late
HDth century -merica. &he story is one of (arver,s
62
several /multiple couple1 stories, where two or more
heterosexual couples spend some time together
sociali$ing, usually drinking, often flirting and
almost always miscommunicating. 6thers of this
type include /Feathers,1 /Neighbors,1 /#ut Yourself
in +y "hoes,1 /.hat,s in -laska,1 /&ell the .omen
.e,re 9oing,1 and /-fter the 3enim,1 to name only
the most prominent in (arver,s most complete
collection of short stories, .here 2,m (alling From.
.hen 8obert -ltman made his well%received film,
"hort (uts, adapted from a do$en or so (arver
stories, he used the device of linked, contrasting
couples as a unifying factor in the movie, which
shifts perspective from couple to couple as they
spend a /typical1 day in Los -ngeles, framed by two
archetypal "outhern (alifornia events each of the
characters experienceGspraying the L.-. 7asin from
helicopters with pesticides, and a run%of%the mill E
point something L.-. earth!uake. &he genre may
ultimately owe something to a very popular comedic
film of the early seventies called 7ob, and (arol, and
&ed, and -lice, which was absolutely shocking when
it first appeared, but today is so old hat that even &<
sitcoms have exhausted it.
(arver, however, uses the genre freshly and for very
specific purposes. 2n1Neighbors,1 it becomes a study
in voyeurismGhow one couple, 7ill and -rlene
+iller, /inhabit1 briefly the lives of their neighbors,
'arriet and im "tone, while the "tones are on
vacation and the +illers /watch1 their apartment.
&he venture into another couple,s lives excites the
+illers and momentarily adds sexual energy and
vitality to their relationship. 7ut we are ultimately
doomed to live our own lives, not those of others,
and the ending of the story finds the +illers locked
out of their neighbor,s apartment, clinging to one
another as if in a storm4
'e tried the knob. 2t was locked. &hen she tried the
knob. 2t would not turn. 'er lips wer parted, and her
breathing was hard, expectant. 'e opened his arms
and she moved into them.
T3on,t worry,, he said into her ear. TFor 9od,s sake,
don,t worry., &hey stayed there. &hey held each
other. &hey leaned into the door as if against a wind,
and braced themselves.
/#ut Yourself in +y "hoes1 is also about one couple
watching another,s house, but it is less about
voyeurism than it is about clashing and contrary
value systems. &he story also explores the ways in
which a writer can use the lives of others as a source
for his own work. &he +eyers and the +organs are
the two couples in !uestion here. &he +eyers pay a
holiday visit to the +organs whose home they had
rented while the older couple was away in 5urope.
&he story takes increasingly bi$arre turns ultimately
pitting the couples against one another as
adversaries. &he +organs put on a great show of
hospitality for the +yers, but clearly, as the story
progresses, something is seething beneath the
surface. +r. +organ has been harboring a grudge
that the +yers, /invaded1 his house, brought a cat
there even though his wife has asthma and the terms
of the lease prohibited it. Further, he accuses the
+yers of /vandali$ing1 the +organ,s personal
possessions. &he +yers are astonished by these
accusations, and leave with the observation that
/&hose people are cra$y.1 7ut the story,s title implies
that it is the writer,s *ob to see the world and events
not only from his own perpsective, but to recreate
the world as others see it as well. +eyers is one of
very few (arver protagonists who is a writer, and as
a writer he /takes1 others possessions and identity
with very few !ualms.
/.hat,s in -laska1 contrasts two couples with much
more in common than the +organs and the +yers.
&he story revolves around ack and +ary,s visit to
the house of their friends (arl and 'elen to get
stoned. 2t is implied, through various slips of the
tongue, facilitated by liberal use of mari*uana, that
(arl and +ary may be having an affair with one
another. &he story examines that pivotal point in a
marriage where one of the partners reali$es that the
other has been cheating. &his moment is symboli$ed
by the entrance of (arl and 'elen,s housecat with a
dead mouse in its *aws. 2t is a kind of /ob*ective
correlative1 for the future of the relationship, a
future that looks bleak and that +ary, particularly,
does not want to face. 6n the way home she tells
ack, /.hen we get home, ack, 2 want to be fucked,
talked to, diverted. 3ivert me ack. 2 need to be
diverted tonight1 I@K%@CJ
/-fter the 3enim1 uses the two%couple motif to
contrast generations. ames and 5dith #acker meet
their younger doubles dressed in denim at a 7ingo
game. &he denim suggests the casual, relaxed
attitude toward life embodied in the younger
couple,s actions. &he #acker,s life is rituali$ed,
settled, while the younger couple is open to
possibilities and assertive. &he #ackers feel
/displaced1 by the couple because they occupy the
#acker,s usual parking spot and bingo seats. ames
particularly feels increasing animosity toward the
couple in denim because they seem oblivious to the
passage of time and the ravages of age. 'e finds
himself wanting to /straighten them out.1 /2f only
they had to sit with him in the waiting roomL 'e,d
set those floo$ies straightL 'e,d tell them what was
waiting for you after the denim and the earrings,
after touching each other and cheating at games1
IFFJ. 2n this story (arver faces the reality that, as
ohn 2rving put it in &he .orld -ccording to 9arp,
/we are all terminal cases,1 and even enduring
relationships like that of the #ackers, end in death
and loss.
2n /Feathers,1 the uneasy relationship between the
narrator, ack, and his wife, Fran is contrasted with
the easy and obvious expressions of love between
7ud and 6lla, the couple whose home they visit. ack
and 7ud are working buddies, but shortly after 7ud,s
wife, 6lla, gives birth to a child, he invites his friend
and his wife to their home for dinner. ack and Fran
are a very different kind of couple than 7ud and 6lla.
&hey live reclusive lives, scarcely venturing from
their apartment after returning from work.
-ccepting a dinner invitation to 7ud and 6lla,s home
is a ma*or event in their lives, but they have little
63
social grace and hardly know how to act in a social
situation. &he warmth and love expressed in 7ud
and 6lla,s houseGsymboli$ed by a peacock 7ud
bought for his wife, a plaster mold of 6lla,s crooked
teeth that sits atop the &< I7ud paid for her teeth to
be straightenedGsomething she always wanted to do
Gand she keeps the mold out to remind her of his
kindnessJ, and most of all the /ugly1 baby that they
express deep affection for. "o affected are Fran and
ack by their visit to 7ud and 6lla,s place, that when
they get home Fran decides she wants to emulate
their lives by having a child4
-fter we got home from 7ud and 6lla,s that night,
and we were under the covers, Fran said, T'oney fill
me up with your seedL, .hen she said that, 2 heard
her all way down to my toes, and 2 hollered and let
go IK?CJ.
7ut once again, (arver seems to be saying we need to
live our own lives, not that of others, because once
Fran and ack have a child, their lives go downhill.
&hey become less and less communicative, more and
more set in their ways. /+ostly,1 as ack puts it near
the story,s end, /it,s *ust the &<.1
7ut the real tour%de%force of (arver,s multiple couple
stories is /.hat .e &alk -bout .hen .e &alk
-bout Love,1 a story that combines elements of some
of these others but raises them to a new intensity.
&he entire story takes place in the narrator,s kitchen
where he and his wife are sitting around a table with
another couple drinking gin and talking. -s the story
begins the kitchen is flooded with daylight, and the
character who utters much of the story,s dialogue,
+el, is holding forth on the sub*ect of /love.1 2t,s
significant that +el is a heart surgeon, for we are
about to get a dissection of the ways of the heart in
the contemporary world. 2n addition, the fact that
+el is a doctor has the others deferring to him
constantly. &he story is narrated by the male half of
one of the couples, a man named Nick who tells us in
the very first sentences4 /+y friend +el +c9innis
was talking. +el +c9innis is a cardiologist, and
sometimes that gives him the right.1 &his
immediately establishes +el,s social status and
authority, anticipating his domination of the
conversation. 2n fact, nearly @D^ of the dialogue in
the story is +el,s and his views on love virtually roll
over those of the others.
+el and his second wife &erri are a relatively
seasoned couple Iby contemporary standardsJGthey
have been married four years and together for fiveG
who have been through a good deal together. 7oth
had tumultuous previous relationships. +el has a
very hostile relationship with his ex%wife, +ar*orie;
he,s still paying her alimony and toward the end of
the story he says /"he,s allergic to beesX.2f 2,m not
praying she,ll get married again, 2,m praying she,ll
get herself stung to death by a swarm of fucking
bees.1 &erri, meanwhile, was previously involved
with a batterer named 5d, who shot himself after
&erri and +el moved in together. &erri,s insistence
that 5d loved herGand that he was willing to die for
his love is a sore point between the couple. +el
insists e!ually that 5d,s violence negates the
possibility of love. 'is background as a seminarian
before attending medical school taught him that
/spiritual1 love is the only /real1 love4 /&he kind of
love 2,m talking about,1 he says, /you don,t try to kill
people.1 &erri, reflecting something of the /battered
woman1 profile, persists in her view that 5d loved
her4 /2n his own way maybe, but he loved me. &here
was love there +el. 3on,t say there wasn,t.1 &his
conflict is a =>@D,s version of the epiphany that
occurs at the end of ames oyce,s /&he 3ead1 when
9abriel (onroy discovers his wife 9retta had a
relationship with a man Iappropriately namedJ
+ichael Furey who loved her so much he caught
pneumonia while singing her love songs on a cold
and rainy night imploring her not to leave. &hough
+ichael Furey and 5d on the surface may seem the
antithesis of one another, both are utterly dependent
on the woman they love; neither finds life worth
living without her. .hile this kind of passionate
intensity is an anathema in an age of /co%
dependency,1 oyce and (arver want us to consider
!uestions about the meaning of love as it actually
occurs in the worldGboth the world of early HDth
century 3ublin that oyce wrote about, and the
world of late HDth century -lbu!uer!ue, New
+exico, the transient western U.". city where
(arver,s story is set. (arver,s story, however, is much
less /place specific1 than oyce,s. 2n an 2nterview
with 9ail (aldwell, (arver says that most of his
stories could take place anywhere4 /Xit,s an
emotional landscape 2,m most interested in. &hese
four people in T.hat .e &alk -bout .hen .e &alk
-bout Love, could be sitting around a table in
-lbu!uer!ue, or 5l #asoGbut they could *ust as
easily be in .ichita or "yracuse.1
&he emotional landscape of /.hat .e &alk -bout1
involves recording the state of mind of the two
couples as they move through a mid%afternoon and
early evening talking about all kinds of loveG
spiritual, carnal, platonic, possessive, brutal,
obsessive, unre!uited, and even parental, searching
for what /real1 love is. +el and &erri,s tumultuous
and volatile love history of love is explicitly
contrasted that of with Nick and Laura, who are also
in a second marriage but have known one another
for *ust a year and a half and are still in a state of
what some pop psychologists call /limmerance,1 that
remarkable time in the early days of a relationship
when lovers have a hard time keeping their eyes and
hands off one another. +el, who is the narrator of
the story, says /2 touched the back of Laura,s hand.
"he gave me a !uick smile. 2 picked up Laura,s hand.
2t was warm, the nails polished, perfectly manicured.
2 encircled the broad wrist with my fingers, and 2
held her.1 Yet despite the physical connection
between Nick and Laura, theirs is a relationship of
what we might call /lite intimacy.1 +el,s description
of it as virtually perfection itself has a hollow ring to
it4 /Laura is a legal secretary. .e,d met in a
professional capacity. 7efore we knew it, it was a
courtship. "he,s thirty%five, three years younger than
2 am. 2n addition to being in love, we like each other
and en*oy one another,s company. "he,s easy to be
with.1 &his is the ideal contemporary relationshipG
between a man and a woman who are friends as well
as lovers, and the operative word here is /easy.1 .e
64
all seek easy relationships, but the real world keeps
intruding. -nd, of course, the trouble with /easy1
relationships is embodied in the clich_, /easy come,
easy go.1
&he transience of contemporary relationships
creates a need for the charactersGand by extension
for us as readersGto redefine what love is and what
it means to love someone. &he entire story revolves
around a central passage, delivered as a monologue
by +el, that connects love with time as has occurred
in contemporary culture. &hough the myth of
/eternal love1 persists, the reality of contemporary
transitory relationships has shaken its foundations. 2
need to !uote this central passage in its entirety
because it capsuli$es the essence of (arver,s
narrative. -s +el drinks more and more, the
!uestion implied by the story,s title becomes more
and more urgent. ust what do we talk about when
we talk about love between human beings today0
3oes the word mean what it has always meant, or is
there something about late HDth century life that has
radically altered its meaning4
/T.hat do any of us really know about love0, +el
said. T2t seems to me we,re *ust beginners at love. .e
say we love each other and we do, 2 don,t doubt it. 2
love &erri and &erri loves me, and you guys love each
other too. You know the kind of love 2,m talking
about now. #hysical love, that impulse that drives
you to someone special, as well as love of the other
person,s being, his or her essence, as it were. (arnal
love and, well, call it sentimental love, the day to day
caring about the other person. 7ut sometimes 2 have
a hard time accounting for the fact that 2 must have
loved my first wife too. 7ut 2 did, 2 know 2 did. "o 2
suppose 2 am like &erri in that regard. &erri and 5d.,
'e thought about it and then he went on. T&here was
a time when 2 thought 2 loved my first wife more
than life itself. 7ut now 2 hate her guts. 2 do. 'ow do
you explain that0 .hat happened to that love0 .hat
happened to it, is what 2,d like to know. 2 wish
someone could tell me. &hen there,s 5d. 6kay, so
we,re back to 5d. 'e loves &erri so much he tries to
kill her and he winds up killing himself., +el stopped
talking and swallowed from his glass. TYou guys have
been together eighteen months and you love each
other. 2t shows all over you. You glow with it. 7ut
you both loved other people before you met each
other. You,ve both been married before, *ust like us.
-nd you probably loved other people before that too,
even. &erri and 2 have been together five years, been
married for four. -nd the terrible thing, the terrible
thing is, but the good thing too, the saving grace, you
might say, is that if something happened to one of us
Gexcuse me for saying thisGbut if something
happened to one of us tomorrow, 2 think the other
one, the other person, would grieve for a while, you
know, but then the surviving party would go out and
love again, and have someone else soon enough. -ll
this, all of this love, we,re talking about, it would be
*ust a memory. -m 2 wrong0 -m 2 way off base0
7ecause 2 want you to set me straight if you think
2,m wrong. 2 want to know. 2 mean, 2 don,t know
anything, and 2,m the first one to admit it.,1
6f course, +el is actually the last one to admit it,
and his confused, drunken monologue has a kind of
terrible clarity and honesty to it. .hen 2 read this
passage in my class, my "outhern (alifornia
students, nearly all of them from families that have
experienced divorce, both understand it and are
bewildered by it simultaneously. .hich is to say they
recogni$e it as the contemporary world they live inG
a world of serial relationships where one year,s love
is the next year,s courtroom adversary.
7oth +el and &erri on the one hand, and Nick and
Laura on the otherGas well as +el and +ar*orie and
&erri and 5dGare contrasted with yet another couple
referred to in the story, an elderly couple in their
mid%seventies who have been in an auto accident.
"ignificantly, their camper was slammed by a
teenage drunk driver who was killed in the accident.
&he old couple survived, but /*ust barely.1 (arver
intends the couple to represent our traditional
conception of loveGlifetime monogamyGa love that
lasts /until death do us part.1 .hat troubles +el
about the love between this old couple is that the
husband is upset not so much because he and his
wife are badly in*ured, but because his face is
bandaged so severely he cannot move his head and
look at his wife. &his kind of dependence is much
closer to the love of 5d for &erri or the love of
+ichael Furey for 9retta than it is to either the love
of +el for &erri or the love of Nick for Laura. &his
kind of love involves dependence, vulnerability and
need, all highly unfashionable !ualities in a world of
/you do your thing and 2,ll do mine.1 /(an you
imagine01 +el says in an increasingly boo$e%
influenced diatribe, /2,m telling you the man,s heart
was breaking because he couldn,t turn his goddamn
head and see his goddamn wifeX2 mean it was
killing the old fart because he couldn,t look at the
fucking woman.1 2n +el,s world, love is disposable,
and disposable love is an oxymoron.
(arver underscores our contemporary confusion
about love with two motifs he uses as structural
elements in the story4 alcohol and light. Nick
associates the two in his first description of the
setting. /&he four of us were sitting around his
M+el,sN kitchen table drinking gin. "unlight filled the
kitchen from the big window behind the sink.1 &he
gin is poured liberally throughout and four pages
into the story, +el opens a second bottle and
proposes a toast /to true love.1 -t this point the
couples are in a kind of enchanted, fairy tale state, at
the point in their drinking when the world seems to
be basking in a rose%colored glow. -gain the
consumption of gin is related to the light in the
room. /&he afternoon sun was like a presence in this
room, the spacious light of ease and generosity. .e
could have been anywhere, somewhere enchanted.
.e raised our glasses again and grinned at each
other like children who had agreed on something
forbidden.1 &he emotional landscape here is
conspiratorial. &he two couples appear to be moving
toward a revelation but the boo$e has created an
illusory sense of well being.. -t this point, +el goes
into his monologue about love in the contemporary
world and &erri,s response makes clear the tone of
65
voice in which it is delivered4 /+el, for 9od,s sakeX
-re you getting drunk0 'oney0 -re you drunk01
7ecause (arver wrote as a recovering alcoholic,
alcohol often plays an important role in many of his
stories. 3rinking is often contrasted with eating.
Food is almost always presented as both nourishing
and nurturing. 5ating is a communal activity, a
/small good thing,1 as the title of one of his stories
has itGwhile alcohol is a kind of empty substitute for
it that neither nourishes nor nurtures but distorts
and confuses. -s the conversation continues, +el
makes exactly this contrast. /Xlet,s drink this cheapo
gin the hell up. &hen we,re going to dinner, right0
&erri and 2 know a new place. &hat,s where we,ll go,
to this new place we know about. 7ut we,re not going
until we finish up this cut%rate, lousy gin.1 5ven
more pointedly, +el says /2 like foodX2f 2 had it to
do all over again, 2,d be a chef, you know01 7ut
eating keeps getting put aside for more drinking. +el
has passed the state of a euphoric high and is now
moving into a somnambulant stupor4 /+el poured
himself another drink. 'e looked at the label closely
as if studying a long row of numbers. &hen he slowly
put the bottle down on the table and slowly reached
for the tonic water.1 &hings are indeed moving very
slowly at this point, and after +el finishes the story
about the old couple, Nick offers a masterful
understatement, yet again linking alcohol and light4
/+aybe we were a little drunk by then. 2 know it was
hard keeping things in focus. &he light was draining
out of the room, going back through the window
where it had come from. Yet nobody made a move to
get up from the table to turn on the overhead light.1
&he kitchenGsignificantly a place where food is
preparedGgets darker and darker and things move
more and more slowly. +el especially seems to be
moving in slow motionGeach of his movements is
ponderous and exaggerated. 2t takes him a long time
merely to cross one leg over the other. &he couples
keep talking about food, about going out to eat, but
continue drinking until all the li!uor is gone. +el
thinks about calling his children Ia sentimental
insertion of parental love in the midst of all this
confusion about loveJ but finally decides against it.
/+aybe 2 won,t call the kids after all. +aybe it isn,t
such a hot idea. +aybe we,ll *ust go eat. 'ow does
that sound.01 Nick responds confusedly4 /"ounds
fine to meX5at or not eat. 6r keep drinking. 2 could
head right on out into the sunset.1 Laura is
perplexed by Nick,s response, but she underscores
the poverty of the conversation about love when she
says /2 don,t think 2,ve ever been so hungry in my
life. 2s there something to nibble on01 &his is
certainly a figurative as well as literal statement. -ll
of the characters are hungry for love, but love as we
too often experience it in the contemporary world is
a shallow substitute for the real thing. 7eing hungry
for love is one thing, but doing something about that
hunger is another. Never one to miss an opportunity
for humor in the midst of gravity, (arver has &erri
respond to Laura,s re!uest for /something to nibble
on1 with this4 T2,ll put out some cheese and crackers,,
&erri said. 7ut &erri *ust sat there. "he did not get up
to get anything.1
"erial, transient love is to love as boo$e is to food. 2t
gives the characters the illusion of having arrived
somewhere, but leaves them empty and
undernourished. -nd the more we talk about love,
the more it becomes clear that we know virtually
nothing about it. &he story,s conclusion is a
masterful strokeGa dark, existential moment when
humanity is stripped of its illusionsGthe gin is
finished, and all Nick hears, and conse!uently we as
readers hear, is the sound of four human hearts
beating in the darkness. Love and all our
conceptions of it in this context are human
constructs, what we call today a /socially constructed
reality1 that we employ to give meaning to the
biological actuality of our flesh and blood, of our
pulses pounding in the darkness. /2 could hear my
heart beating. 2 could hear everyone,s heart. 2 could
hear the human noise we sat there making, not one
of us moving, not even when the room went dark.1
6ne can almost hear the anguished cry of 5ugene
6,Neill,s immy &omorrow from &he 2ceman
(ometh hovering behind (arver,s last sentences4
/.hat did you do to the boo$e, 'ickey, what did you
do to the boo$e01
Fred Moramarco is a &rofessor at #an
3iego #tate Cniversity.
Looking !or Raymond Car'er
$y /9 &9 Scott
D!ragmentsE
?"nd did you get what
you wanted from this life, even soH
7 did.
"nd what did you wantH
To call myself *eloved, to feel
myself
*eloved on the earth.@
#lenty of writers are admired, celebrated, imitated,
and hyped. <ery few writers can, as 8aymond (arver
does in his poem /Late Fragment,1 call themselves
beloved. 2n the years since his death in =>@@, at fifty,
from lung cancer, (arver,s reputation has
blossomed. 'e has gone from being an influentialG
and controversialGmember of a briefly fashionable
school of experimental fiction to being an
international icon of traditional -merican literary
values. 'is geniusGbut more his honesty, his
decency, his commitment to the exigencies of craftG
is praised by an extraordinarily diverse cross section
of his peers.
8ichard Ford, whose work, like (arver,s, carries the
'emingway tradition of masculine virtue into the
perilous world of discount stores, suburban sprawl,
and no%fault divorce, published a tribute to his old
friend in The Aew Yorer last year. ay +c2nerney, a
student of (arver,s at "yracuse in the early =>@Ds
whose cheeky, cosmopolitan sensibility seems, at
66
first glance, antithetical to (arver,s plain%spoken
provinciality, has written memorably, and movingly,
about his teacher. -nd (arver,s stripped%down
vignettes of ordinary life in the United "tates have
been championed by such heroes of international
postmodern super%fiction as "alman 8ushdie, -mos
6$, and 'aruki +urakami, who is also (arver,s
principal apanese translator.
(arver,s influence has proven remarkably durable
and protean4 the chronicles of family dysfunction,
addiction, and recovery that dominate -merican
writing in the late =>>Ds may owe as much to his
example as did the flood of laconic, present%tense
short fiction that nearly drowned it in the mid%
=>@Ds.
MXN
-t the beginning of the story /.hy 3on,t You
3ance01 a nameless man drinks whiskey and stares
through his kitchen window at the contents of his
house, arranged in the front yard4
&he chiffonier stood a few feet from the foot
of the bed. 'e had emptied the drawers into
cartons that morning, and the cartons were
in the living room. - portable heater was
next to the chiffonier. - rattan chair with a
decorator pillow stood at the foot of the bed.
&he buffed aluminum kitchen set took up a
part of the driveway. - yellow muslin cloth,
much too large, a gift, covered the table and
hung down over the sides. - potted fern was
on the table, along with a box of silverware
and a record player, also gifts.
2n some ways, "ll of Cs resembles this tableauGthe
interior furnishings of a life dragged out into the
sunlight, where they seem incongruous and, at the
same time, desperately sad. &he pathos of /.hy
3on,t You 3ance01Gsurely a case of ordinary ob*ects
ac!uiring power by being rendered in ordinary
languageGintensifies when we learn, early on in the
collected poems, that the man at the window is
(arver himself. /3istress "ale1 begins with a catalog
of household goods4
Early one #unday morning everything
outside.
the child!s cano&y *ed and vanity ta*le,
the sofa, end ta*les and lam&s, *o;es
of assorted *oos and records.
&hese things belong to someone else, a family
reduced to selling off all their possessions. &he
speaker is a friendG12,m staying with them, trying to
dry out1Gwhose sympathy is both deepened and
limited by the fact that he,s not much better off than
they are4 /2 reach for my wallet and that is how 2
understand it4U2 can,t help anyone.1
2n fact, as (arver recorded in poems like
/7ankruptcy1 and /&he +iracle,1 he and his first
wife, +aryann, were twice forced to declare
bankruptcy. -nd the hardships of (arver,s early
adulthoodGthe alcoholism, the financial insecurity,
the cruelties and betrayals that finally wrecked his
marriageGturn up again and again in his poetry. -s
9allagher puts it, /8ay,s appetite for inventorying
domestic havoc is often relentless.1 /2nventory1 is
perhaps more apt than 9allagher would wish, given
the formal slackness of so many of the poems, but
the poems in -ll of Us will serve, for serious readers
of (arver,s fiction, as a useful storehouse of
biographical information, and as irrefutable
cumulative evidence of how closely bound up
(arver,s stories are with the events of his life. XX.
MXN
&his kind of reticence, the balked, clumsy attempt to
express an experience paraly$ed in its enormity and
yet at the same time resolutely ordinary % the
destruction of a family % resembles the way many of
the characters in (arver,s stories express themselves.
-t the end of /.hy 3on,t You 3ance01, for example,
the point of view shift from the man at the window
to a young woman who had stopped with her
boyfriend to check out the *unk on the man,s lawn4
.eeeks later, she said4 /&he guy was about
middle%aged.
MXN
"he kept talking. "he told everyone. &here
was more to it, and she was trying to get it
talked out. -fter a time, she gave up trying.
&he girl knows she has witnessed something terrible,
but lacks the resourcesG!uite literally, the
vocabularyGto explain to herself or anyone else what
she has seen. "he can only say what happened, and it
isn,t enoughGthere is more to it. 7ut in her
inarticulate state she is not much different from the
narrator of the story, or indeed, as the poems and
essays suggest, from (arver himself. -nd yet, the
girl,s inability to say more, when coupled with
(arver,s refusal to say moreGthe words husband,
wife, divorce, alcoholism, bankruptcy, and despair
occur nowhere in the storyGmanages to say it all.

&o his admirers, (arver,s taciturnity becomes its
own kind of elo!uence. 7ut critics, especially those
who are bothered by (arver,s disproportionate
influence on other writers, have complained about
how much he leaves out. For "ven 7irkerts, writing
in =>@E, the fiction of (arver and his followers is
marked by /a total refusal of any vision of larger
social connection.1 -nd it is true that the inhabitants
of (arver,s world appear to exist not only in states of
isolation and impermanence, but, to borrow a
phrase from 9eorge ..". &row, in a context of no
context, without geographical, social, or historical
coordinates. .e seldom learn the name of the town,
or even the state, in which a given story takes place.
&he stories tend to be devoid of the cultural and
commercial referencesGpopular songs, brand
names, moviesGthat so many contemporary writers
use to fix their narratives in time and space. -nd
though (arver began writing in the early =>EDs, and
67
came to prominence over the next two decades, his
stories, at first glance, take no notice of the social
and political tumult of the era. .e never know who
the president is, or whether men have walked on the
moon; the characters never read newspapers; and
nobody expresses any political interests or opinions.
-s far as 2 can tell, <ietnam is mentioned exactly
once4 in /<itamins1 the leering, predatory behavior
of a black man named NelsonGone of the very few
nonwhite characters who appear in (arver,s workGis
ascribed to the fact that he is a veteran *ust returned
from combat in "outheast -sia.
MXN
/2,m much more interested in my characters,1 (arver
once told an interviewer, /in the people in my story,
than 2 am in any potential reader.1 &his is a
statement of artistic priorities, to be sure, but it also
amounts to an expression of solidarity. (arver,s
characters are a lot like him4 they marrytoo young,
divorce too late, and drink too much. &heir midlife
crises occur in their early thirties. &hey are menaced
by debt and sporadically employed. (hildhood in
(arver,s world consists of the uncomprehending,
often brutal imitation of adults; adulthood, which
comes suddenly and irreversibly, is a state of
mourning for lost possibilities punctuated by
eruptions of childishness. &he desire for
permanence, for stability, for home and family and
steady work, is perpetually at war with the impulse
to flee, to strike it rich, or *ust to be left alone.
&he spareness of (arver,s style represents not
parsimoniousness, but tact. 2t represents, above all,
an absolute loyalty to the people he writes about. 2t,s
as if (arver, in deciding to become the kind of
person who has his own library, and who will
someday see his own name under the words /edited
by,1 at the same time swore to remain true not only
to the delivery boy he had been, but to that boy,s
original state of ignorance. 2n his recent introduction
to &he 7est -merican "tories of the &wentieth
(entury, ohn Updike writes, somewhat ruefully,
that the fiction of (arver and fellow minimalists like
7arthelme and -nn 7eattie involves /a withdrawal of
authorial guidance, an existential determination to
let things speak out of their own silence.1 &his is well
put, but it would be more accurate in (arver,s case to
say that he is motivated by a moral determination to
let persons speak out of their own deep reticence.
&he exercise of authorial guidance would imply, for
him, an unprincipled claim to omniscience, an
assertion that he knows more than his characters
and is, therefore, better than they are.

&o read Where 7!m -alling From from beginning to
end, supplemented by some of the stories from
earlier collections that (arver chose not to reprint, is
to discover that a great deal of what is supposed to
be missingGin particular, the changing social
landscape of the United "tatesGhas been there all
along, but that it has been witnessed from a
perspective almost without precedent in -merican
literature. "tories like /.hat 3o You 3o in "an
Francisco01 and /-fter the 3enim1 record the
curious, suspicious, and disgusted reactions of the
small%town working class to interlopers from the
urban, well%to%do counterculture. /erry and +olly
and "am,1 /Nobody "aid -nything,1 and /7icycles,
+uscles, (igarettes,1 among others, are ultimately
about how the spread of the suburbs transformed
family life, and about the crisis of masculinity that
resulted. (arver,s work, read closely and in the
aggregate, also carries a lot of news about feminism,
work%ing conditions, and substance abuse in late%
twentieth%century provincial -merica.
&o generali$e in this way is, of course, to engage in a
kind of analytical discourse (arver resolutely
mistrusted. +ore often than not, the big talkers in
(arver,s stories are in possession of a degree of class
privilege. /+y friend +el +c9innis was talking,1
goes the famous opening of /.hat .e &alk -bout
.hen .e &alk -bout Love.1 /+el +c9innis is a
cardiologist, and sometimes that gives him the
right.1 &he imperious homeowner in /#ut Yourself in
+y "hoes1 and the *ealous college teacher in /.ill
You #lease 7e Wuiet, #lease01 also come to mind.
#eople who carry on as if they know what they,re
talking about are regarded with suspicion. (arver,s
greatest sympathy is reserved for those characters
who struggle to use language to make sense of
things, but who founder or fail in the attempt.
2t is striking how many of his stories turn on the
inability or refusal of people to say what happened.
&hink of the girl at the end of /.hy 3on,t You
3ance0,1 unable to convey the fullness of what she
has seen on the strange man,s lawn, or the narrator
of /.here is 5veryone0,1 clamming up at his --
meetings. -nd there are many more examples.
/.hy, 'oney01 is a mother,s desperate, almost
incoherent, and yet strangely formal effort I/3ear
"ir,1 it beginsJ to explain to a nameless, prying
stranger how her darling son went wrong. 2n
/3istance1 Ialso published as /5verything "tuck to
'im1J, a father, asked by his grown daughter to tell
her /what it was like when she was a kid,1 produces a
fairy tale of young parenthood Ithe main characters
in which are referred to only as /the boy1 and /the
girl1J that leaves both teller and listener unsettled,
unenlightened, and remote from each other.
-nd then there is /(athedral,1 one of (arver,s most
beloved stories and the closest thing he produced to
an allegory of his own method. &he narrator is
visited by a garrulous blind man, an old friend of his
wife,s, whose arrival he anticipates with
apprehension. &he two men end up smoking
mari*uana together, while the television airs a
documentary about the cathedrals of 5urope. 2t
starts to bother the narrator that his new
ac!uaintance, while he knows something about the
history of church%building, has no idea of what
cathedrals really are, and he tries to tell him about
them4
/&hey,re really big,1 2 said. /&hey,re massive.
&hey,re built of stone. +arble, too,
sometimes. 2n those olden days, when they
built cathedrals, men wanted to be close to
9od. 2n those olden days, 9od was an
6*
important part of everyone,s life. You could
tell this from their cathedral%building. 2,m
sorry,1 2 said, /but it looks like that,s the best
2 can do for you. 2,m *ust no good at it.1
&he blind man proposes that they draw a cathedral
instead, and they doGthe narrator,s eyes closed, the
blind man,s hand guiding his. &he narrator
undergoes an epiphany4 /2t was like nothing else in
my life up to now.1
&he reader is left out4 the men,s shared experience,
visual and tactile, is beyond the reach of words. 7ut
the frustrating vicariousness of the story is also the
source of its power. -rt, according to (arver, is a
matter of the blind leading the tongue%tied. (arver
was an artist of a rare and valuable kind4 he told
simple stories, and made it look hard.
Aew Yor Review of Boos, -ug =H T>>
JOHN BARTH
A Few Words About Minimalism*
Less is more, said Walter Gropius, or Alberto
Giacometti, or Laszlo Moholy-Nagy, or Henri Guadier-
Brzeska, or Constantin Brancusi, or Le Corbusier or
Ludwig Mies van der Rohe; the remark (first made in fact
by Robert Browning) has been severally attributed to all
of those more or less celebrated more or less minimalists.
Like the Bauhaus motto, Form follows function, it is
itself a memorable specimen of the minimalist esthetic, of
which a cardinal principle is that artistic effect may be
enhanced by a radical economy of artistic means, even
where such parsimony compromises other values:
completeness, for example, or richness or precision of
statement.
The power of that esthetic principle is easy to
demonstrate: contrast my eminently forgettable
formulation of it above artistic effect may be
enhanced, etc. with the unforgettable assertion Less is
more. Or consider the following proposition, first with,
and then without, its parenthetical elements:
Minimalism (of one sort or another) is the principle
(one of the principles, anyhow) underlying (what I and
many another interested observer consider to be perhaps)
the most impressive phenomenon on the current (North
American, especially the United States) literary scene (the
gringo equivalent to el boom in the Latin American
novel): I meanthe new flowering of the (North) American
short story (in particular the kind of terse, oblique,
realistic or hyperrealistic, slightly plotted, extrospective,
cool-surfaced fiction associated in the last 5 or 10 years
with such excellent writers as Frederick Barthelme, Ann
Beattie, Raymond Carver, Bobbie Ann Mason, James
Robison, Mary Robison and Tobias Wolff, and both
praised and damned under such labels as K-Mart
realism, hick chic, Diet-Pepsi minimalism and
post-Vietnam, post-literary, postmodernist blue-collar
neo-early-Hemingwayism).
Like any clutch of artists collectively labeled, the
writers just mentioned are at least as different from one
another as they are similar. Minimalism, moreover, is not
the only and may not be the most important attribute that
their fiction more or less shares; those labels themselves
suggest some other aspects and concerns of the New
American Short Story and its proportionate counterpart,
the three-eighth-inch novel. But it is their minimalism I
shall speak of (briefly) here, and its antecedence: the idea
that, in art at least, less is more.
It is an idea surely as old, as enduringly attractive and
as ubiquitous as its opposite. In the beginning was the
Word: only later came the Bible, not to mention the three-
decker Victorian novel. The oracle at Delphi did not say,
Exhaustive analysis and comprehension of ones own
psyche may be prerequisite to an understanding of ones
behavior and of the world at large; it said, Know
thyself. Such inherently minimalist genres as oracles
(from the Delphic shrine of Apollo to the modern fortune
cookie), proverbs, maxims, aphorisms, epigrams, pensees,
mottoes, slogans and quips are popular in every human
century and culture especially in oral cultures and
subcultures, where mnemonic staying power has high
priority and many specimens of them are self-reflexive
or self-demonstrative: minimalism about minimalism.
Brevity is the soul of wit. Silence is golden. Vita
brevis est, ars longa Seneca warns aspiring poets in his
third Epistle; Eschew surplusage, recommends Mark
Twain.
Against the large-scale classical prose pleasures of
Herodotus, Thucydides and Petronius, there are the
miniature delights of Aesops fables and Theophrastus
Characters. Against such verse epics as the Iliad, the
Odyssey and the Aeneid and the much longer Sanskrit
Ramayana, Mahabharata and Ocean of Story are such
venerable supercompressive poetic forms as the
palindrome (there are long examples, but the ones we
remember are Madam, Im Adam and Sex at noon
taxes), or the single couplet (a modern instance is Ogden
Nashs Candy is dandy/But liquor is quicker), or the
feudal Japanese haiku and its Western echoes in the early-
20th-century imagists up to the contemporary skinny
poems of, say, Robert Creeley. There are even single-
word poems, or single words that ought to be poems; the
best one I know of I found in the Guinness Book of
World Records, listed as the most succinct word: The
Tierra del Fuegian word mamihlapinatapei. In the
language of the Land of Fire, mamihlapinatapei is said
to mean: looking into each others eyes, each hoping that
the other will initiate what both want to do but neither
chooses to commence.
The genre of the short story, as Poe distinguished it
from the traditional tale in his 1842 review of
Hawthornes first collection of stories, is an early
manifesto of modern narrative minimalism: In the whole
composition there should be no word written, of which
the tendency . . . is not to the pre-established design . . . .
Undue length is . . . to be avoided. Poes codification
informs such later 19th-century masters of terseness,
selectivity and implicitness (as opposed to leisurely once-
upon-a-timelessness, luxuriant abundance, explicit and
extended analysis) as Guy de Maupassant and Anton
Chekhov. Show, dont tell, said Henry James in effect and
at length in his prefaces to the 1908 New York edition of
his novels. And dont tell a word more than you
absolutely need to, added young Ernest Heningway, who
thus described his new theory in the early 1920s: You
could omit anything if you knew that you omitted, and the
omitted part would strenthen the story and make people
feel something more than they understood.
6+
The Bauhaus Functionalists were by then already busy
unornamenting and abstracting modern architecture,
painting and design; and while functionalism and
minimalism are not the same thing, to say nothing of
abstractionism and minimalism (there is nothing abstract
about those early Hemingway stories), they spring from
the same impluse: to strip away the superfluous in order
to reveal the necessary, the essential. Never mind that
Voltaire had pointed out, a century and a half before, how
indispensable the superfluous can be (Le superflu, chose
si necessaire); just as, in modern painting, the process of
stripping away leads from Post-Impressionism through
Cubism to the radical minimalism of Kasimir Malevichs
White on White of 1918, and Ad Reinhardts all but
imageless black paintings of the 1950s, so in 20th-
century literature the minimalist succession leads through
Hemingways new theory to the shorter ficciones of
Jorge Luis Borges and the ever-terser texts of Samuel
Beckett, perhaps culminating in his play Breath (1969):
The curtain opens on a dimly lit stage, empty but for
scattered rubbish; there is heard a single recorded human
cry, then a single amplified inspiration and expiration of
breath accompanied by a brightening and redimming of
the lights, then again the cry. Thirty-five seconds after it
opened, the curtain closes.
But it closes only on the play, not on the modern
tradition of literary minimalism, which honorably
continues in such next-generation writers as, in America,
Donald Barthelme (The fragment is the only form I
trust, says a character in his slender novel Snow White)
and, in the literary generation overlapping and following
his, the plentiful authors of the New American Short
Story.
Old or new, fiction can be minimalist in any or all of
several ways. There are minimalisms of unit, form and
scale: short words, short sentences and paragraphs, super-
short stories, those three-eighth-inch thin novels
aforementioned, and even minimal bibliographies
(Borges fiction adds up to a few modest, though
powerfully influential, short-story collections). There are
minimalisms of style: a stripped-down vocabulary; a
stripped-down syntax that avoids periodic sentences,
serial predications and complex subordinating
constructions; a stripped-down rhetoric that may eschew
figurative language altogether; a stripped-down, non-
emotive tone. And there are minimalisms of material:
minimal characters, minimal exposition (all that David
Copperfield kind of crap, says J.D. Salingers catcher in
the rye), minimal mises en scene, minimal action,
minimal plot.
Found together in their purest forms, these several
minimalisms add up to an art that in the words of its
arch-priest, Samuel Beckett, speaking of the painter Bram
Van Velde expresses that there is nothing to express,
nothing with which to express, nothing from which to
express, no power to express, no desire to express
together with the obligation to express. But they are not
always found together. There are very short works of
great rhetorical, emotional and thematic richness, such as
Borgess essential page, Borges and I; and there are
instances of what may fairly be called long-winded
minimalism, such as Samuel Becketts stark-monumental
trilogy from the early 50s: Molloy, Malone Dies and The
Unnameable. Parallels abound in the other arts: the
miniature, in painting, is characteristically brimful
(miniaturism is not minimalism); Joseph Cornells little
boxes contain universes. The large paintings of Mark
Rothko, Franz Kline and Barnett Newman, on the other
hand, are as undetailed as the Washington Monument.
The medieval Roman Catholic Church recognized two
opposite roads to grace: the via negativa of the monks
cell and the hermits cave, and the via affirmativa of
immersion in human affairs, of being in the world
whether or not one is of it. Critics have aptly borrowed
those terms to characterize the difference between Mr.
Beckett, for example, and his erstwhile master James
Joyce, himself a maximalist except in his early works.
Other than bone-deep disposition, which is no doubt the
great determinant, what inclines a writer sometimes
almost a cultural generation of writers to the Negational
Path?
For individuals, it may be by their own
acknowledgment largely a matter of past or present
personal circumstances. Raymond Carver writes of a
literary apprenticeship in which his short poems and
stories were carved in precious quarter-hours stolen from
a harrowing domestic and economic situation; though he
now has professional time aplenty, the notion besets him
that should he presume to attempt even a short novel,
hell wake to find himself back in those wretched
circumstances. An opposite case was Borgess: his near-
total blindness in his later decades obliged him to the
short forms that he had elected for other, nonphysical
reasons when he was sighted.
. . .
To account for a trend, literary sociologists and
culture watchers point to more general historical and
philosophical factors not excluding the factor of
powerful models like Borges and Beckett. The influence
of early Hemingway on Raymond Carver, say, is as
apparent as the influence of Mr. Carver in turn on a host
of other New American Short-Story writers, and on a
much more numerous host of apprentices in American
college fiction-writing programs. But why this model
rather than that, other than its mere and sheer artistic
prowess, on which after all it has no monopoly?
Doubtless because this one is felt, by the writers thus
more or less influenced, to speak more strongly to their
condition and that of their readers.
And what is that condition, in the case of the cool-
surface realist-minimalist storytellers of the American
1970s and 80s? In my conversation with them, my
reading of their critics both positive and negative and my
dealings with recent and current apprentice writers, I have
heard cited, among other factors, these half-dozen, ranked
here in no particular order:
*Our national hangover from the Vietnam War, felt by
many to be a trauma literally and figuratively
unspeakable. I dont want to talk about it is the
characteristic attitude of Nam veterans in the fiction of
Ann Beattie, Jayne Anne Phillips and Bobbie Ann Mason
as it is among many of their real-life counterparts (and
as it was among their numberless 20th-century
forerunners, especially after the First World War). This is,
of course, one of the two classic attitudes to trauma, the
other being its opposite, and it can certainly conduce to
hedged, nonintrospective, even minimalist discourse: one
remembers Hemingways early story Soldiers Home.
*The more or less coincident energy crisis of 1973-76,
and the associated reaction against American excess and
wastefulness in general. The popularity of the subcompact
car parallels that (in literary circles, at least) of the
7,
subcompact novel and the minifiction though not, one
observes, of the miniskirt, which had nothing to do with
conserving material.
*The national decline in reading and writing skills, not
only among the young (including even young apprentice
writers, as a group), but among their teachers, many of
whom are themselves the product of an ever-less-
demanding educational system and a society whose
narrative-dramatic entertainment and tastes come far more
from movies and television than from literature. This is
not to disparage the literacy and general education of
those writers mentioned above, or to suggest that the great
writers of the past were uniformly flawless spellers and
grammarians, of wide personal literary culture. Some
were, some werent; some of todays are, some arent.
But at least among those of our aspiring writers promising
enough to be admitted into good graduate writing
programs and surely they are not the inferior specimens
of their breed the general decline in basic language
skills over the last two decades is inarguable enough to
make me worry in some instances about their teaching
undergraduates. Rarely in their own writing, whatever its
considerable other merits, will one find a sentence of any
syntactical complexity, for example, and inasmuch as a
languages repertoire of other-than-basic syntactical
devices permits its users to articulate other-than-basic
thoughts and feelings, Dick-and-Jane prose tends to be
emotionally and intellectually poorer than Henry James
prose. Among the great minimalist writers, this
impoverishment is elected and strategic: simplification in
the interest of strength, or of some other value. Among
the less great it may be faute de mieux. Among todays
common readers it is pandemic.
*Along with this decline, an ever-dwindling readerly
attention span. The long popular novel still has its
devotees, especially aboard large airplanes and on
beaches; but it can scarcely be doubted that many of the
hours we bourgeois now spend with our televisions and
video cassette recorders, and in our cars and at the
movies, we used to spend reading novels and novellas and
not-so-short stories, partly because those glitzy other
distractions werent there and partly because we were
more generally conditioned for sustained concentration, in
our pleasures as well as in our work. The Austrian
novelist Robert Musil was complaining by 1930 (in his
maxi-novel The Man Without Qualities) that we live in
the age of the magazine, too impatient already in the
twitchy 20s to read books. Half a century later, in
America at elast, even the large-circulation magazine
market for fiction had dwindled to a handful of outlets;
the readers werent there. It is a touching paradox of the
New American Short Story so admirably
straightforward and democratic of access, so steeped in
brand names and the popular culture that it perforce
appears mainly in very small-circulation literary
quarterlies instead of the likes of Colliers, Liberty and
The Saturday Evening Post. But The New Yorker and
Esquire cant publish everybody.
*Together with all the above, a reaction on these
authors part against the ironic, black-humoristic
fabulism and/or the (sometimes academic)
intellectuality and/or the density, here byzantine, there
baroque, of some of their immediate American literary
antecedents: the likes of Donald Barthelme, Robert
Coover, Stanley Elkin, William Gaddis and William
Gass, John Hawkes, Joseph Heller, Thomas Pynchon,
Kurt Vonnegut (and, I shall presume, myself as well).
This reaction, where it exists, would seem to pertain as
much to our successors relentless realism as to their
minimalism: among the distinguished brothers Barthelme,
Donalds productions are no less lean than Fredericks or
the up-and-coming Stevens; but their characteristic
material, angle of attack and resultant flavor are different
indeed. The formal intricacy of Elder Brothers story
Sentence, for example (a single nine-page
nonsentence), or the direct though satirical intellectuality
of his Kierkegaard Unfair to Schlegel, are as foreign to
the K-Mart Realists as are the manic flights of Gravitys
Rainbow. So it goes: The dialogue between fantast and
realist, fabulator and quotidianist, like the dialogue
between maximalist and minimalist, is as old as
storytelling, and by no means always adversary. There are
innumerable combinations, coalitions, line-crossings and
workings of both sides of the street.
*The reaction against the all but inescapable
hyperbole of American advertising, both commercial and
political, with its high-tech manipulativeness and
glamorous lies, as ubiquitous as and more polluted than
the air we breathe. How understandable that such an
ambiance, together with whatever other items in this
catalogue, might inspire a fiction dedicated to homely,
understated, programmatically unglamorous, even
minimalistic Telling It Like It Is.
That has ever been the ground inspiration, moral-
philosophical in character, of minimalism and its kissing
cousin realism in their many avatars over the centuries, in
the fine arts and elsewhere: the feeling that the language
(or whatever) has for whatever reasons become excessive,
cluttered, corrupted, fancy, false. It is the Puritans
reaction against baroque Catholicism; it is Thoreaus
putting behind him even the meager comforts of the
village of Concord.
To the Lost Generation of World War I survivors, says
one of their famous spokesmen (Frederic Henry in
Hemingways A Farewell to Arms), Abstract words such
as glory, honor, courage, or hallow were obscene.
Wassily Kandinsky said he sought not the shell, but the
nut. The functionalism of the Bauhaus was inspired in
part by admiration for machine technology, in part by
revulsion against the fancy clutter of the Gilded Age, in
language as well as elsewhere. The sinking of the elegant
Titanic has come to symbolize the end of that age, as the
sight of some workmen crushed by a falling Victorian
cornice symbolized for young Frank Lloyd Wright the
dead weight of functionless architectural decoration.
Flaubert raged against the blague of bourgeois speech,
bureaucratic speech in particular; his passion for the mot
juste involved far more subtraction than addition. The
baroque inspires its opposite: after the excesses of
scholasticism comes Descartess radical reductionism
let us doubt and discard everything not self-evident and
see whether anything indubitable remains upon which to
rebuild. And among the scholastics themselves, three
centuries before Descartes, William of Ockham honed his
celebrated razor: Entia non sunt multiplicanda (Entities
are not to be multiplied).
In short, less is more.
Beyond their individual and historically local
impulses, then, the more or less minimalist authors of the
New American Short Story are re-enacting a cyclical
correction in the history (and the microhistories) of
literature and of art in general: a cycle to be found as well,
71
with longer rhythms, in the history of philosophy, the
history of the culture. Renaissances beget Reformations,
which then beget Counter-Reformations; the seven fat
years are succeeded by seven lean, after which we, no less
than the people of Genesis, may look forward to the
recorrection.
For if there is much to admire in artistic austerity, its
opposite is not without merits and joys as well. There are
the minimalist pleasures of Emily Dickinson Zero at
the Bone and the maximalist ones of Walt Whitman;
the low-fat rewards of Samuel Becketts Texts for
Nothing and the high-calorie delights of Gabriel Garcia
Marquezs One Hundred Years of Solitude. There truly
are more ways than one to heaven. As between
minimalism and its opposite, I pity the reader or the
writer, or the age too addicted to either to savor the
other.
* Copyright c 1986 by The New York Times
Company. Reprinted by permission.
Weber Studies does not ordinarily publish previously
published material. We have made an exception in the
case of this essay for two reasons. The essay was
specially written for and presented at the First National
Undergraduate Literature Conference at Weber State
College on l7 April l986. Secondly, the topic presented
herein is important enough to warrant republication for
our readers.
The 1e# :orker8 7ecem$er AF8 A,,G
$etters written *y Raymond -arver to 2ordon
$ish (and one letter *y $ish to -arver) during the
years 9=J= to 9=KL, when $ish was editing -arver!s
wor at EsFuire and "lfred ". %no&f. #erves as an
introduction to -arver!s story ?Beginners,@ also
&u*lished in &he New Yorker
Letters to an .ditor
$y Raymond Car'er
Following are e;cer&ts from -arver!s
corres&ondence with $ish, from 9=J= to 9=KL.
Aovem*er 98, 9=J=
.ell, as it happens 2 do have a few stories on
hand, and 2,m sending them along within the next
day or two. 2 hope you can find something you like.
<uly 9>, 9=E:
'ombre, thanks for the superb assist on the
stories. No one has done that for me since 2 was =@, 2
mean it. 'igh time 2 think, too. Feel the stories are
first class now, but whatever the outcome there, 2
appreciate the fine eye you turned on them. 'ang
tough.
<anuary 9=, 9=E9
2 think it,s a fine story. &ook about all yr changes,
added a few things here and there. 'ope to get it
retyped by this evening and back off to you. No later
than tomorrow, sure. &hanks for going over it.G
Listen, something you said a long time ago, the thing
itself is what matters. 2s true, in the end. 2,m not
bothered. 2,ve always been the slowest kid in class
anyway, right down there. 7ut 2 keep trying, even at
this advanced age. "o lean on it, if you see things. 2f 2
don,t agree, 2,ll say something, never fear.
Aovem*er 99, 9=EM
.ell, listen, can,t exactly tell you how pleased
and so on about the prospects of having a collection
out under your aegis . . . along with +c9raw%'ill, of
course. First reaction was to run out and buy two
bottles of champagne for a champagne breakfast. . . .
7ut all that is neither here nor there. .hat 2,m
concerned about and thrilled about is having out a
book of stories, Y from there on 2 intend, brother, to
set the globe afire, believe me. . . . 2,ll tell you this,
you,ve not backed a bad horse. . . . -bout the editing
necessary in some of the stories. &ell me which ones
and 2,ll go after it, or them. &ell me which ones. 6r 2
will leave it up to you Y you tell me what you think
needs done or doing.
#e&tem*er 8E, 9=EE
&he most wonderful thing about this stay in
+c:inleyville, though, is that 2,ve got sober and
intend to stay that way. 2,ve never done anything in
my life 2,ve felt so good about as getting and staying
sober. .hat can 2 say0 MLish had left EsFuire.N
You,ve made a single%handed impression on
-merican letters that has helped fix the course of
-merican letters. -nd, of course, you know, old
bean, *ust what an influence you,ve exercised on my
life. ust knowing you were there, at your desk, was
an inspiration for me to write, and you know 2 mean
that. You, my friend, are my idea of an ideal reader,
always have been, always, that is, forever, will be. "o
you loomed large on the literary scene, and that is a
fact, as well as a truth, but you loomed large in my
conscious and unconscious life as well.
#e&tem*er K, 9=EK
&ess 9allagher, that 2rish lass, 2 like to have fallen
in love with her. "he left, went to &ucson on business
Gshe,ll be teaching there next year, she,s on a 9uggy
this yearGthen returned and we spent a fine week
together, 2 put her on a plane to "eattle yesterday,
today 2 get a do$en red roses from her.
Fe*ruary 9, 9=E=
2,m going to +ardi 9ras with &ess; and the Fords
are coming down in +arch for spring break and
we,re going into +exico by train for a week. . . . 2,m
happy, and 2,m sober. 2t,s aces right now, 9ordon. 2
know better than anyone a fellow is never out of the
woods, but right now it,s aces, and 2,m en*oying it.
May 9:, 9=K:
-s for lunch, lord, it was the high point of my
visit to NY(, nothing mindless or silly, at least not on
your part. 2 delight in your company, simple as that.
You know, 2 feel closer to you than 2 do to my own
brother. 'ave for a long time, years. .e don,t see
each other that often, or talk on the phone weekly,
etc., but 2 know you,re there and it,s important to
me. 7esides, you,re my heroGdon,t you know0 5ver
since you left #- M#alo -ltoN and went out into the
9reat .orld and began sending me messages back
from time to time what it was like out there. Your
friendship and your concern have enriched my life.
&here,s no !uestion of your importance to me.
You,re my mainstay. +an, 2 love you. 2 don,t make
that declaration lightly either. . . . For (hrist,s sweet
sake, not to worry about taking a pencil to the stories
if you can make them better; and if anyone can you
can. 2 want them to be the best possible stories, and 2
72
want them to be around for a while. . . . 2 never
figured 2 was going to get rich or even earn a living
writing stories and poems. 7e enough, you know, to
have :nopf do a book of mine and have you as my
editor. "o open the throttle. 8amming speed.
<uly K, 9=K:, @ -.+.
3earest 9ordon,
2,ve got to pull out of this one. #lease hear me.
2,ve been up all night thinking on this, and nothing
but this, so help me. 2,ve looked at it from every side,
2,ve compared both versions of the edited mssGthe
first one is better, 2 truly believe, if some things are
carried over from the second to the firstGuntil my
eyes are nearly to fall out of my head. You are a
wonder, a genius, and there,s no doubt of that, better
than any two of +ax #erkins, etc., etc. -nd 2,m not
unmindful of the fact of my immense debt to you, a
debt 2 can simply never, never repay. &his whole new
life 2 have, so many of the friends 2 now have, this
*ob up here, everything, 2 owe to you for /.ill You
#lease.1 You,ve given me some degree of immortality
already. You,ve made so many of the stories in this
collection better, far better than they were before.
-nd maybe if 2 were alone, by myself, and no one
had ever seen these stories, maybe then, knowing
that your versions are better than some of the ones 2
had sent, maybe 2 could get into this and go with it.
7ut &ess has seen all of these and gone over them
closely. 3onald 'all has seen many of the new ones
Iand discussed them at length with me and offered
his services in reviewing the collectionJ and 8ichard
Ford, &oby .olff, 9eoffrey .olff, too, some of them.
. . . 'ow can 2 explain to these fellows when 2 see
them, as 2 will see them, what happened to the story
in the meantime, after its book publication0 +aybe if
the book were not to come out for =@ months or two
years, it would be different. 7ut right now,
everything is too new. . . . 9ordon, the changes are
brilliant and for the better in most casesG2 look at
/.hat .e &alk -bout . . .1 I7eginnersJ and 2 see
what it is that you,ve done, what you,ve pulled out of
it, and 2,m awed and astonished, startled even, with
your insights. 7ut it,s too close right now, that story.
Now much of this has to do with my sobriety and
with my new%found Iand fragile, 2 seeJ mental health
and well%being. 2,ll tell you the truth, my very sanity
is on the line here. 2 don,t want to sound
melodramatic here, but 2,ve come back from the
grave here to start writing stories once more. -s 2
think you may know, 2,d given up entirely, thrown it
in and was looking forward to dying, that release.
7ut 2 kept thinking, 2,ll wait until after the election to
kill myself, or wait until after this or that happened,
usually something down the road a ways, but it was
never far from my mind in those dark days, not all
that long ago. Now, 2,m incomparably better, 2 have
my health back, money in the bank, the right woman
for this time of my life, a decent *ob, blah blah. 7ut 2
haven,t written a word since 2 gave you the
collection, waiting for your reaction, that reaction
means so much to me. Now, 2,m afraid, mortally
afraid, 2 feel it, that if the book were to be published
as it is in its present edited form, 2 may never write
another story, that,s how closely, 9od Forbid, some
of those stories are to my sense of regaining my
health and mental well%being. . . .
#lease help
me with this,
9ordon. 2 feel
as if this is the
most important
decision 2,ve
ever been faced
with, no shit. 2
ask for your
understanding.
Next to my
wife, and now
&ess, you have
been and are
the most
important
individual in
my life, and
that,s the truth.
2 don,t want to
lose your love
or regard over
this, oh 9od no.
2t would be like
having a part of
myself die, a
spiritual part.
esus, 2,m *abbering now. 7ut if this causes you
undue complication and grief and you perhaps
understandably become pissed and discouraged with
me, well, 2,m the poorer for it, and my life will not be
the same again. &rue. 6n the other hand, if the book
comes out and 2 can,t feel the kind of pride and
pleasure in it that 2 want, if 2 feel 2,ve somehow too
far stepped out of bounds, crossed that line a little
too far, why then 2 can,t feel good about myself, or
maybe even write again; right now 2 feel it,s that
serious, and if 2 can,t feel absolutely good about it, 2
feel 2,d be done for. 2 do. Lord 9od 2 *ust don,t know
what else to say. 2,m awash with confusion and
paranoia. Fatigue too, that too.
#lease, 9ordon, for 9od,s sake help me in this
and try to understand. Listen. 2,ll say it again, if 2
have any standing or reputation or credibility in the
world, 2 owe it to you. 2 owe you this more%or%less
pretty interesting life 2 have. 7ut if 2 go ahead with
this as it is, it will not be good for me. &he book will
not be, as it should, a cause for *oyous celebration,
but one of defense and explanation. . . . 2 know that
the discomfort of this decision of mine is at its
highest now, it,s rampant, 2 feel nearly wild with it.
7ut 2 know it will cause you grief as well,
explanations, more work, stopping everything in its
tracks and coming up with valid reasons for why.
7ut, eventually, my discomfort and yours, will go
away, there,ll be a grieving, 2,m grieving right now,
but it will go away. 7ut if 2 don,t speak now, and
speak from the heart, and halt things now, 2 foresee
a terrible time ahead for me. &he demons 2 have to
deal with every day, or night, nearly, might, 2,m
afraid, simply rise up and take me over.
6f course 2 know 2 shouldn,t have signed the
contract without first reading the collection and
making my fears, if any, known to you beforehand,
before signing. "o what should we do now, please
advise0 (an you lay it all on me and get me out of the
contract someway0 (an you put the book off until
73
.inter or "pring of =>@H and let them know 2 want
to have the stories in the collection published in
maga$ines first Iand that,s the truth, several of them
are committed to places with publication way off
next yearJ0 &ell them 2 want the maga$ine
publications first, and then the book out when 2,m
up for tenure here that spring of =>@H0 -nd then
decide next year what, for sure, to do0 6r else can or
should everything *ust be stopped now, 2 send back
the :nopf check, if it,s on the way, or else you stop it
there0 -nd meanwhile 2 pay you for the hours, days
and nights, 2,m sure, you,ve spent on this. 9oddamn
it, 2,m *ust nearly cra$y with this. 2,m getting into a
state over it. GNo, 2 don,t think it shd. be put off. 2
think it had best be stopped.
2 thought the editing, especially in the first
version, was brilliant, as 2 said. &he stories 2 can,t let
go of in their entirety are these. /(ommunity (enter1
I2f 2t #lease YouJ and /&he 7ath1 I- "mall 9ood
&hingJ and 2,d want some more of the old couple,
-nna and 'enry 9ates, in /.hat .e &alk -bout
.hen .e &alk -bout Love1 I7eginnersJ. 2 would not
want /+r. Fixit1 I.here 2s 5veryoneJ in the book in
its present state. &he story /3istance1 should not
have its title changed to /5verything "tuck to 'im.1
Nor the little piece /+ine1 to /#opular +echanics.1
/3ummy1 should keep its title. /- "erious &alk1 is
fine for /#ie.1 2 think /.ant to "ee "omething1 is
fine, is better than /2 (ould "ee the "mallest &hings.1
. . .
2,m *ust much too close to all of this right now.
2t,s even hard for me to think right now. 2 think, in
all, maybe it,s *ust too soon for me for another
collection. 2 know that next spring is too soon in any
case. -bsolutely too soon. 2 think 2 had best pull out,
9ordon, before it goes any further. 2 reali$e 2 stand
every chance of losing your love and friendship over
this. 7ut 2 strongly feel 2 stand every chance of losing
my soul and my mental health over it, if 2 don,t take
that risk. 2,m still in the process of recovery and
trying to get well from the alcoholism, and 2 *ust
can,t take any chances, something as momentous
and permanent as this, that would put my head in
some *eopardy. &hat,s it, it,s in my head. You have
made so many of these stories better, my 9od, with
the lighter editing and trimming. 7ut those others,
those three, 2 guess, 2,m liable to croak if they came
out that way. 5ven though they may be closer to
works of art than the original and people be reading
them ?D years from now, they,re still apt to cause my
demise, 2,m serious, they,re so intimately hooked up
with my getting well, recovering, gaining back some
little self%esteem and feeling of worth as a writer and
a human being.
2 know you must feel angry and betrayed and
pissed off. 9od,s sake, 2,m sorry. 2 can pay you for
the time you,ve put in on this, but 2 can,t begin to
help or do anything about the trouble and grief 2
may be causing there in the editorial and business
offices that you,ll have to go through. Forgive me for
this, please. 7ut 2,m *ust going to have to wait a while
yet for another book, =@ months, two years, it,s okay
now, as long as 2,m writing and have some sense of
worth in the process. Your friendship and your
concern and general championing of me have meant,
and mean still, more to me than 2 can ever say. 2
could never begin to repay you, as you must know. 2
honor and respect you, and 2 love you more than my
brother. 7ut you will have to get me off the hook
here 9ordon, it,s true. 2 *ust can,t go another step
forward with this endeavor. "o please advise what to
do now. . . . -s 2 say, 2,m confused, tired, paranoid,
and afraid, yes, of the conse!uences for me if the
collection came out in its present form. "o help me,
please, yet again. 3on,t, please, make this too hard
for me, for 2,m *ust likely to start coming unraveled
knowing how 2,ve displeased and disappointed you.
9od almighty, 9ordon.
8ay
#lease do the necessary things to stop production
of the book. #lease try and forgive me, this breach.
<uly 9:, 9=K:
#lease look through the enclosed copy of /.hat
.e &alk -bout,1 the entire collection. You,ll see that
nearly all of the changes 2 suggest are small enough,
but 2 think they,re significant and they all can be
found in the first edited ms version you sent me. 2t,s
*ust, not *ust, but it,s a !uestion of reinstating some
of the things that were taken out in the second
version. 7ut 2 feel strongly some of those things
taken out should be back in the finished stories.
/9a$ebo,1 for instance. /2n this, too, she was right.1
&hat ending is far superior and gives the story the
right, the *ust ending, the narrator,s sense of loss,
and a sharp, perfect ending for the story. 6therwise,
the narrator is a lout, a son of a bitch, and totally
insensitive to everything he,s been telling us.
6therwise, why even is he telling the story, 2 wonder.
<uly 9M, 9=K:
2,m thrilled about the book and its impending
publication. 2,m stoked about it, and 2,m already
starting to think about the next one. +ore than
thinking about it, in fact. Fact is, 2,m giving some
thought to taking the second semester off to do
nothing but write and write through the summer as
well. . . . &hings are in full swing, and 2 am *ust
generally excited, specifically too. 2 know you have
my best interests at heart, and you,ll do everything
and more to further those interests. . . . 2 won,t harp
or dog, for 2 know the book is going to astonish and
give pleasure. "o *ust these last words on the matter4
please look at the suggestions 2,ve penciled in and
entertain those suggestions seriously, even if finally
you decide otherwise; if you think 2,m being my own
worst enemy, you know, well then, stick to the final
version of the second edited version. 7ut do give
those things a hard third or fourth look. +y greatest
fear is, or was, having them too pared, and 2,m
thinking of /(ommunity (enter1 and /&he 7ath1
both of which lost several pages each in the second
editing. 2 want that sense of beauty and mystery they
have now, but 2 don,t want to lose track, lose touch
with the little human connections 2 saw in the first
version you sent me. &hey seemed somehow to be
fuller in the best sense, in that first ed. version.
+aybe 2 am wrong in this, maybe you are =DD^
correct, *ust please give them another hard look.
&hat,s all. &hat and what 2 said about /.here 2s
5veryone01G+r. (offee, +r. Fixit.
"ugust 99, 9=K8
Now 2 don,t know for sure how we,re going to
work out some of the disagreements we,re bound to
have over some of these stories 2,ve written and am
writing this very minute. -nd 2,m going to give you
74
the book M/(athedral1N on schedule, in
November. . . . -nyway, you,re the best editor there
is, and a writer yourself, you bet, and you have to call
them the way you see them. Fair enough. 7ut 2 may
not be in agreement with you, and this is what,s
worrying me right this minute. . . .
Forgive me. 7ut hear me out. 2,m saying that
despite all and fuck all, 2,ve been writing short
stories ever since 2 landed out here in this woodsy
cranny. 2,ve got five new ones, no six, counting the
one 2 *ust typed out a second draft of earlier tonight
and hope to finish, at least have some more drafts of,
before the week is out. 2,ve been writing as if my life
depended on it and like there,s no tomorrow. -nd we
both know that first may be true, and there,s always
likelihood of the second. I-nd fuck no, 2 can,t get off
the cigarettes either.J . . . 7ut one thing is certainG
the stories in this new collection are going to be
fuller than the ones in the earlier books. -nd this, for
(hrist,s sake, is to the good. 2,m not the same writer
2 used to be. 7ut 2 know there are going to be stories
in these =C or =? 2 give you that you,re going to draw
back from, that aren,t going to fit anyone,s notion of
what a (arver short story ought to beGyours, mine,
the reading public at large, the critics. 7ut 2,m not
them, 2,m not us, 2,m me. "ome of these stories may
not fit smoothly or neatly, inevitably, alongside the
rest. 7ut, 9ordon, 9od,s truth, and 2 may as well say
it out now, 2 can,t undergo the kind of surgical
amputation and transplant that might make them
someway fit into the carton so the lid will close.
&here may have to be limbs and heads of hair
sticking out. +y heart won,t take it otherwise. 2t will
simply burst, and 2 mean that. 3earest friend of all,
brother, you know what 2,m saying, and 2 know you
understand. 5ven if you think 2,m dead wrong. . . .
2 love your heart, you must know that. 7ut 2 can,t
write these stories and have to feel inhibitedGif 2 feel
inhibited 2,m not going to write them at allGand feel
that if you, the reader 2 want to please more than
any, don,t like them, you,re going to re%write them
from top to bottom. .hy, if 2 think that the pen will
fall right out of my fingers, and 2 may not be able to
pick it up. . . .
You understand 2,m not saying, or even remotely
thinking, that these new and year%old stories are
beyond criticism, or that they won,t need editing.
Not true. Not true in either case. You,re as close to
me, and my work, you couldn,t be closer, if you were
my blood brother. You,re the left side of me. 6r the
right side, take your pick. 7ut 2 guess 2,m trying to
say here that we,re going to have to work very closely
together on this bookGthe most important book of
them all for me, at every stage, and be careful and
understanding with each other. 9ordon, the last
book passed as if in a dream for me. &his one can,t
go that way, and we both know it.
Bcto*er L, 9=K8
Listen, 2,ve finished work on the new :nopf book
of stories. Last week 2 got them all back from the
typist and 2 spent all day today reading them
through. 2t,s going to be something, that book. 2
thought 2 would try and put them in order, the order
2,d like to see them in the book, but *ust a few
minutes ago gave up on that. 2,ll leave that up to you.
2 don,t have a title, either. .e talked, a year ago,
about calling the book /(athedral.1 &hat,s fine with
me and maybe lead off with that story and finish
with /Fever,1 a long story, or /- "mall 9ood &hing,1
another long story. 7ut 2 will leave the arrangement
of the stories up to you. You know 2 want and have to
have autonomy on this book and that the stories
have to come out looking very essentially the way
they look right now. 2,m of course not saying we can,t
change words or phrases or a line here and there,
and punctuation, sure. 7ut after you,ve read the
book, 2,ll come down and we,ll talk about titles, the
ordering, or any suggestions you might have.
Bcto*er 8=, 9=K8
-s 2 said before, 2 would be happy with either
title, /(athedral1 or /.here 2,m (alling From.1 . . .
+y biggest concern, as you know, is that the stories
remain intact. 6h, (hrist, sure, you know, if you see
some words or sentences that can be trimmed, that,s
fine, trim them. You know what 2,m saying. #lease
help me with this book as a good editor, the best . . .
but not as my ghost. 2 tell you, 2 may be reading it all
wrongGand if 2 am, 2 don,t care, in a very profound
wayGbut 2 think there is a great deal of good will
established toward me, or for me; and this book, the
stories, are going to be so different, in so many
regards, from so many of the earlier stories, that the
book is going to be met with a good show of
enthusiasm, even celebration. -nd, yes, 2,m eager to
have that artist you were talking about do something
for the cover, if she can. Yes, for sure. 2 hope that
works out. I7ut that, finally, will be your final
decision; the matter of the text, in this case, has to be
mine.J
Aovem*er 9=, 9=K8
From $ish to -arver
3ear 8ayG'ere,s /.here 2,m (alling From1
reworked to the extent that 2 think it must beGas
basic as 2 can keep it. 2,m aware that we,ve agreed
that 2 will try to keep my editing of the stories as
slight as 2 deem possible, that you do not want me to
do the extensive work 2 did on the first two
collections. "o be it, 8ay. .hat you see in this
sample is that minimum4 to do less than this, would
be, in my *udgment, to expose you too greatly. -t all
events, look4 if this is in keeping with your wishes,
call !uickly and say soGand 2 will then be guided
thereby in my handling of the rest of the stories.
Love, 9.
<anuary 89, 9=KL
From -arver to $ish
.hat,s the matter, don,t you love me anymore0 2
never hear from you. 'ave you forgotten me
already0 .ell, 2,m going back to the MParis ReviewN
interview and take out all the good things 2 said
about you. ?
Achoes of 1ur 1>n &i"es
Interview with Raymond Carver,
2000 David Koehne,
Conducted April 15, 197!
2t is late afternoon, a
"aturday and we are sitting in
my apartment drinking coffee.
75
6utside the living room window some neighborhood
children are arguing. - station wagon moves slowly
down the street. 2t could be the opening scene from
one of his short stories, because it is seemingly
ordinary. 8aymond (arver lights his cigarette,
gestures slightly with the match, leans forward.
/You are not your characters, but your characters
are you,1 he says.
-n interesting observation, considering the many
roles that (arver has played in his lifetime. 'e has
been a *anitor, a saw mill hand, a delivery man, a
retail clerk, and an editor of a publishing firm. 'e
taught fiction writing at several universities,
including the 2owa .riters, .orkshop in =>FK%=>FC.
For the next few months, however, (arver will
simply be living in 2owa (ity, working on several
writing pro*ects before leaving the +idwest to *oin
the faculty of 9oddard (ollege in <ermont.
/&his is a new time in my life. +y children are
both grown, and 2 *ust received a 9uggenheim
Fellowship. 2 have large blocks of time to work with,1
he says.
/2,ve been working on a novel. 2 had already
received an advance from the publisher, but they,ve
agreed to accept a collection of short stories this fall,
instead.1
(arver has previously published two collections
of his short stories4 Will you Please Be Guiet,
PleaseH, which was a National 7ook -ward nominee
for =>FF, and Furious #easons, which contains his
#ushcart #ri$e%winning story, /"o +uch .ater "o
(lose &o 'ome.1
(arver thinks of himself primarily as a fiction
writer, although he has published three excellent
volumes of poetry and is assembling a fourth.
/- year ago 2 thought 2 Td never write another
poem. 2 don,t know exactly what it is, but since 2,ve
been in 2owa (ity 2,ve written an entire book. &he
past few weeks have been very good.1
.e talk a while about the division that is
sometimes evident between a writer,s poetry and
her%his prose. 2 suggest that (arver,s poems often
resemble his fiction. 'e lights another cigarette.
/2 believe a plotline is very important. .hether 2
am writing a poem or writing prose 2 am still trying
to tell a story. For a long time 2 wrote poems because
2 didn,t have the time to write short stories. &he nice
thing about a poem is that there is i nstant
gratification. -nd if something goes wrong, it,s right
there. 2t would be a hard thing for me to work for
months on a novel and then have it be bad. 2t would
be a tremendous investment for me, and 2 don,t have
a very long attention span.1
2f it is fair to say that (arver,s poems resemble his
short stories, it is e!ually true that his short stories
have a poetic intensity. &he language is very clear
and deceptively simple. &he reader is never certain
where the action is going until she%he arrives.
8aymond (arver has tremendous skill with
dialogue, and his characters remain tangible in the
most bi$arre situations.
2n the story, /.hat,s 2n -laska,1 +ary and (arl
spend an evening with ack and 'elen, trying out
the water pipe ack received for his birthday. (arver
not only simulates the conversations of four stoned
adults with amusing accuracy, he succeeds in subtly
suggesting a series of conflicts that create a kind of
subliminal tension in the reader, a tension that
culminates in the disturbing last line of the story.
(arver,s fiction !uite often encourages a kind of
empathic response in his readers. &his is due to his
keen eye for common, small details, details we
imagine uni!ue to our personal histories. &herefore
we sometimes forget we are reading fictions, suspec t
that we are dealing with echoes of our own words,
our own lives.
.e refill our coffee cups and 2 ask him about
process, the origins of his stories. 'e pauses for a
moment.
/- lot of things come from experience, or
sometimes from something 2,ve heard, a line
somewhere.1
2 mention that often his titles are taken from lines
in his stories. 'e leans forward.
/You start writing. "ometimes you don,t find
what you are trying to say in the story until you turn
a line, and then suddenly you know where the story
is going. You *ust have to discover as you go. &hen
when you get that first draft, you go back.
/5verything is important in a story, every word,
every punctuation mark. 2 believe very much in
economy in fiction. "ome of my stories, like
TNeighbors,, were three times as long in their first
drafts. 2 really like the process of rewriting.
/7eginnings are very important. - story is either
blessed or cursed with its opening lines. 5ditors have
so many manuscripts to look through that often all
they do is look at the first paragraph or two, unless
it,s an author they know.1
-pparently (arver knows what he,s doing,
because his stories have been included in some of
the most competitive collections in the country4 7est
-merican "hort "tories, and 6. 'enry #ri$e "tories.
&he longest pause in our conversation follows my
!uestion, /.hat do you think about writing
programs, such as the 2owa .riters, .orkshop0 2
know you were a student here several years ago.1
/2 think writing programs can be a good thing, a
place to learn craft. 6f course, one problem is that a
lot of people who are active in the writing program
are never heard from again after they leave it. &hey
move away from the school and they *ust stop
writing.1
/+y time at 2owa wasn,t very productive. 2 didn,t
put much work up. 2 was here for two semesters and
2 left before 2 could get my +.F.-.
/&he important thing is to find someone you can
work with. For me it was ohn 9ardner. 'e was
there at a very important time in my development.1
(arver will read in the 5nglish lounge at @ p.m.
today; he will read, perhaps, the title story from his
new collection of short fiction, Why 3on!t You
3anceH Mnot published under this titleN.
/2 might read another story, also,1 he says. /T#ut
Yourself 2n +y "hoes., 2,ll decide on &uesday.1
(arver stands up, looks at me, his cup in his
hand. /2s there anymore coffee01 he asks.
76
77
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*2
*3
*4
*5
*6
*7
5
<ichard Ford
82('-83 F683 I=>CC%J was born in ackson,
+ississippi, the only child of a traveling salesman for
a starch company, and was raised in +ississippi and
in -rkansas. 'e went to college at +ichigan "tate
University, where he met :ristina 'ensley, to
whom he has been married since =>E@. Ford
attended law school briefly before entering the
University of (alifornia at 2rvine, where he received
his +.F.-. in fiction writing in =>FD. 'is novels are
" Piece of My 4eart, The Cltimate 2ood $uc, The
#&ortswriter, Wildlife, and, most recently, Women
with Men and 7nde&endence 3ay, the only novel to
win both the #ulit$er #ri$e and the #5NUFaulkner
-ward for fiction. Ford has taught writing and
literature at the University of +ichigan at -nn
-rbor, at #rinceton University, and at .illiams
(ollege. 'e lives in New 6rleans, where :ristina, is
the head of the city%planning commission. 'e
travels fre!uently and also spends time on a
plantation in the +ississippi 3elta and at his cabin
in (hinook, +ontana.
Rock Srings
5dna and 2 had started down from :alispell, heading
for &ampa%"t. #ete where 2 still had some friends
from the old glory days who wouldnAt turn me in to
the police. 2 had managed to scrape with the law in
:alispell over several bad checksGwhich is a prison
crime in +ontana. -nd 2 knew 5dna was already
looking at her cards and thinking about a move,
since it wasnAt the first time 2Ad been in law scrapes
in my life. "he herself had already had her own
troubles, losing her kids and keeping her ex%
husband, 3anny, from breaking in her house and
stealing her things while she was at work, which was
really why 2 had moved in in the first place, that and
needing to give my litde daughter, (heryl, a better
shake in things.
2 donAt know what was between 5dna and me,
*ust beached by the same tides when you got down
to it. &hough love has been built on frailer ground
than that, as 2 well know. -nd when 2 came in the
house that afternoon, 2 *ust asked her if she wanted
to go to Florida with me, leave things where they
sat, and she said, B.hy not0 +y datebookAs not that
full.B
5dna and 2 had been a pair eight months, more
or less man and wife, some of which time 2 had
been out of work, and some when Fd worked at the
dog track as a lead%out and could help with the rent
and talk sense to 3anny when he came around.
3anny was afraid of me because 5dna had told him
2Ad been in prison in Florida for killing a man,
though that wasnAt true. 2 had once been in *ail in
&allahassee for stealing tires and had gotten into a
fight on the county farm where a man had lost his
eye. 7ut 2 hadnAt done the hurting, and 5dna *ust
wanted the story worse than it was so 3anny
wouldnAt act cra$y and make her have to take her
kids back, since she had made a good ad*ustment to
not having them, and 2 already had (heryl with me.
2Am not a violent person and would never put a
manAs eye out, much less kill someone. +y former
wife, 'elen, would come all the way from .aikiki
7each to testify to that. .e never had violence, and
2 believe in crossing the street to stay out of trou%
bleAs way. &hough 3anny didnAt know that.
7ut we were half down through .yoming, going
toward =%@D and feeling good about things, when
the oil light flashed on in die car 2Ad stolen, a sign 2
knew to be a bad one.
2Ad gotten us a good car, a cranberry +ercedes
2Ad stolen out of an ophthalmologistAs lot in
.hitefish, +ontana. 2 stole it because 2 thought it
would be comfortable over a long haul, because 2
thought it got good mileage, which it didnAt, and
because 2Ad never had a good car in my life, *ust old
(hevy *unkers and used trucks back from when 2
was a kid swamping citrus with (ubans.
**
&he car made us all high that day. 2 ran the
windows up and down, and 5dna told us some
*okes and made faces. "he could be lively. 'er
features would light up like a beacon and you could
see her beauty, which wasnAt ordinary. 2t all made
me giddy, and 2 drove clear down to 7o$eman, then
straight on through the park to ackson 'ole. 2
rented us the bridal suite in the Wuality (ourt in
ackson and left (heryl and her little dog, 3uke,
sleeping while 5dna and 2 drove to a rib barn and
drank beer and laughed till after midnight. 2t felt
like a whole new beginning for us, bad memories
left behind and a new hori$on to build on. 2 got so
worked up, 2 had a tattoo done on my arm that said
F-+6U" &2+5", and 5dna bought a 7ailey hat with
an 2ndian feather band and a little tur!uoise%and%
silver bracelet for (heryl, and we made love on the
seat of the car in the Wuality (ourt parking lot *ust
as the sun was burning up on the "nake 8iver, and
everything seemed tlien like the end of the rainbow.
2t was that very enthusiasm, in fact, that made me
keep the car one day longer instead of driving it
into the river and stealing another one, like 2
shouldAve done and had done before.
.here the car went bad there wasnAt a town in
sight or even a house, *ust some low mountains
maybe fifty miles away or maybe a hundred, a
barbed%wire fence in both directions, hardpan
prairie, and some hawks riding the evening air
sei$ing insects.
2 got out to look at the motor, and 5dna got out
with (heryl and the dog to let them have a pee by
the car. 2 checked the water and checked the oil
stick, and both of them said perfect.
B.hatAs that light mean, 5arl0B 5dna said. "he
had come and stood by the car with her hat on. "he
was *ust si$ing things up for herself.
B.e shouldnAt run it,B 2 said. B"omethingAs not
right in the oil.B
"he looked around at (heryl and Little 3ulce,
who were peeing on the hardtop side%by%side like
two little dolls, then out at the mountains, which
were becoming black and lost in the distance.
B.hatAre we doing0B she said. "he wasnAt worried
yet, but she wanted to know what 2 was thinking
about.
BLet me try it again.B
B&hatAs a good idea,B she said, and we all got
back in the car.
.hen 2 turned the motor over, it started right
away and the red light stayed off and there werenAt
any noises to make you think something was
wrong. 2 let it idle a minute, then pushed the
accelerator down and watched the red bulb. 7ut
there wasnAt any light on, and 2 started wondering if
maybe 2 hadnAt dreamed 2 saw it, 6r that it had
been the sun catching an angle off the window
chrome, or maybe 2 was scared of something and
didnAt know it.
B.hatAs the matter with it, 3addy0B (heryl said
from the backseat. 2 looked back at her, and she
had on her tur!uoise bracelet and 5dnaAs hat set
back on the back of her head and that little black%
and%white 'ein$ dog on her lap. "he looked like a
little cowgirl in the movies.
BNothing, honey, everythingAs fine now,B 2 said.
BLittle 3uke tinkled where 2 tinkled,B (heryl
said, and laughed.
BYouAre two of a kind,B 5dna said, not looking
back. 5dna was usually good with (heryl, but 2
knew she was tired now. .e hadnAt had much
sleep, and she had a tendency to get cranky when
she didnAt sleep. B.e oughta ditch this damn car
first chance we get,B she said.
B.hatAs the first chance we got0B 2 asked,
because 2 knew sheAd been at the map, .
B8ock "prings, .yoming,B 5dna said with
conviction. B&hirty miles down this road.B "he
pointed out ahead.
2 had wanted all along to drive the car into
Florida like a big success story. 7ut 2 knew 5dna
was right about it, that we shouldnAt take cra$y
chances. 2 had kept thinking of it as my car and not
the ophthalmologistAs, and that was how you got
caught in these things,
B&hen my belief is we ought to go to 8ock
"prings and negotiate ourselves a new car,B 2 said. 2
wanted to stay upbeat, like everything was panning
out right.
B&hatAs a great idea,B 5dna said, and she leaned
over and kissed me hard on the mouth.
B&hatAs a great idea,B (heryl said. BLetAs pull on
out of here right now.B
&he sunset that day 2 remember as being the
prettiest 2Ad ever seen. ust as it touched the rim of
the hori$on, it all at once fired the air into *ewels
and red se!uins the precise likes of which 2 had
never seen before and havenAt seen since. &he .est
has it all over everywhere for sunsets, even Florida,
where itAs supposedly flat but where half the time
trees block your view.
B2tAs cocktail hour,B 5dna said after weAd driven
awhile. B.e ought to have a drink and celebrate
something.B "he felt better thinking we were going
to get rid of the car. 2t certainly had dark troubles
and was something youAd want to put behind you.
5dna had out a whiskey bottle and some plastic
cups and was measuring levels on the glove%box lid.
"he liked drinking, and she liked drinking in the
car, which was something you got used to in
+ontana, where it wasnAt against the law, but
where, strangely enough, a bad check would land
you in 3eer Lodge #rison for a year.
B3id 2 ever tell you 2 once had a monkey0B 5dna
said, setting my drink on the dashboard where 2
could reach it when 2 was ready. 'er spirits were
already picked up. "he was like that, up one minute
and down the next. B2 donAt think you ever did tell
me that,B 2 said. B.here were you then0B
B+issoula,B she said. "he put her bare feet on the
dash and rested the cup on her breasts. B2 was
waitressing at the -m<ets. &his was before 2 met
*+
you. "ome guy came in one day with a monkey. -
spider monkey. -nd 2 said, *ust to be *oking, &il roll
you for that monkey.A -nd the guy said, Aust one
roll0A -nd 2 said, A"ure.A 'e put the monkey down
on the bar, picked up the cup, and rolled out
boxcars. 2 picked it up and rolled out three fives.
-nd 2 *ust stood there looking at the guy. 'e was
*ust some guy passing through, 2 guess a vet. 'e got
a strange look on his faceG2Am sure not as strange
as the one 2 hadGbut he looked kind of sad and
surprised and satisfied all at once. 2 said, A.e can
roll again.A 7ut he said, ANo, 2 never roll twice for
anything.A -nd he sat and drank a beer and talked
about one thing and another for a while, about
nuclear war and building a stronghold somewhere
up in the 7itterroot, whatever it was, while 2 *ust
watched the monkey, wondering what 2 was going
to do with it when the guy left. -nd pretty soon he
got up and said, A.ell, good%bye, (hipperAGthat
was this monkeyAs name, of course. -nd then he left
before 2 could say anything. -nd the monkey *ust
sat on the bar all that night. 2 donAt know what
made me think of that, 5arl. ust something weird.
2Am letting my mind wander.B
B&hatAs perfectly fine,B 2 said. 2 took a drink of
my drink. B2Ad never own a monkey,B 2 said after a
minute. B&heyAre too nasty. 2Am sure (heryl would
like a monkey, though, wouldnAt you, honey0B
(heryl was down on the seat playing with Little
3uke. "he used to talk about monkeys all the time
then. B.hatAd you ever do with that monkey0B 2
said, watching the speedometer. .e were having to
go slower now because the red light kept fluttering
on. -nd all 2 could do to keep it off was go slower.
.e were going maybe thirty%five and it was an hour
before dark, and 2 was hoping 8ock "prings wasnAt
far away.
BYou really want to know0B 5dna said. "he gave
me a !uick glance, then looked back at the empty
desert as if she was brooding over it.
B"ure,B 2 said. 2 was still upbeat. 2 figured 2 could
worry about breaking down and let other people be
happy for a change.
B2 kept it a week.B -nd she seemed gloomy all of
a sudden, as if she saw some aspect of the story she
had never seen before. B2 took it home and back
and forth to the -m <ets on my shifts. -nd it didnAt
cause any trouble. 2 fixed a chair up for it to sit on,
back of the bar, and people liked it. 2t made a nice
little clicking noise. .e changed its name to +ary
because the bartender figured out it was a girl.
&hough 2 was never really comfortable with it at
home. 2 felt like it watched me too much. &hen one
day a guy came in, some guy whoAd been in
<ietnam, still wore a fatigue coat. -nd he said to
me, A3onAt you know that a monkeyAU kill you0 2tAs
got more strength in its fingers than you got in your
whole body.A 'e said people had been killed in
<ietnam by monkeys, bunches of them marauding
while you were asleep, killing you and covering you
with leaves. 2 didnAt believe a word of it, except that
when 2 got home and got undressed 2 started
looking over across the room at +ary on her chair
in the dark watching me. -nd 2 got the creeps. -nd
after a while 2 got up and went out to the car, got a
length of clothesline wire, and came back in and
wired her to the doorknob through her little silver
collar, then went back and tried to sleep. -nd 2
guess 2 mustAve slept the sleep of the deadGthough
2 donAt remember itGbecause when 2 got up 2 found
+ary had tipped off her chair%back and hanged
herself on the wire line. 2Ad made it too short.B
5dna seemed badly affected by that story and
slid low in die seat so she couldnAt see out over the
dash. B2snAt that a shameful story, 5arl, what hap%
pened to that poor little monkey0B
B2 see a townL 2 see a townLB (heryl started
yelling from the backseat, and right up Little 3uke
started yapping and the whole car fell into a racket.
-nd sure enough she had seen something 2 hadnAt,
which was 8ock "prings, .yoming, at the bottom
of a long hill, a little glowing *ewel in the desert
with =%@D running on the north side and the black
desert spread out behind.
B&hatAs it, honey,B 2 said. B&hatAs where weAre
going. You saw it first.B B.eAre hungry,B (heryl
said. BLittle 3uke wants some fish, and 2 want
spaghetti.B "he put her arms around my neck and
hugged me.
B&hen youAll *ust get it,B 2 said. BYou can have
anything you want. -nd so can 5dna and so can
Little 3uke.B 2 looked over at 5dna, smiling, but
she was staring at me with eyes that were fierce
with anger. B.hatAs wrong0B 2 said.
B3onAt you care anything about that awful thing
that happened to me0B 'er mouth was drawn tight,
and her eyes kept cutting back at (heryl and Little
3uke, as if they had been tormenting her.
B6f course 2 do,B 2 said. B2 thought that was an
awful thing.B 2 didnAt want her to be unhappy. .e
were almost there, and pretty soon we could sit
down and have a real meal without thinking
somebody might be hurting us.
BYou want to know what 2 did with that
monkey0B 5dna said.
B"ure 2 do,B 2 said.
B2 put her in a green garbage bag, put it in the
trunk of my car, drove to the dump, and threw her
in the trash.B "he was staring at me darkly, as if the
story meant something to her that was real
important but that only she could see and that the
rest of the world was a fool for.
B.ell, thatAs horrible,B 2 said. B7ut 2 donAt see
what else you could do. You didnAt mean to kill it.
YouAd have done it differently if you had. -nd then
you had to get rid of it, and 2 donAt know what else
you could have done. &hrowing it away might seem
unsympathetic to somebody, probably, but not to
me. "ometimes thatAs all you can do, and you canAt
worry about what somebody else thinks.B 2 tried to
smile at her, but the red light was staying on if 2
pushed the accelerator at all, and 2 was trying to
gauge if we could coast to 8ock "prings before the
+,
car gave out completely. 2 looked at 5dna again.
B.hat else can 2 say0B 2 said.
BNothing,B she said, and stared back at the dark
highway. B2 shouldAve known thatAs what youAd
think. YouAve got a character that leaves something
out, 5arl. 2Ave known that a long time.B
B-nd yet here you are,B 2 said. B-nd youAre not
doing so bad. &hings could be a lot worse. -t least
weAre all together here.B
B&hings could always be worse,B 5dna said. BYou
could go to the electric chair tomorrow.B
B&hatAs right,B 2 said. B-nd somewhere
somebody probably will. 6nly it wonAt be you.B
B2Am hungry,B said (heryl. B.henAre we gonna
eat0 LetAs find a motel. 2Am tired of this. Little
3ukeAs tired of it too.B
.here the car stopped rolling was some distance
from the town, though you could see the clear
oudine of the interstate in the dark with 8ock
"prings lighting up the sky behind. You could hear
die big tractors hitting, die spacers in the overpass,
revving up for the climb to the mountains.
2 shut off the lights.
B.hatAre we going to do now0B 5dna said
irritably, giving me a bitter look.
B2Am figuring it,B 2 said. B2t wonAt be hard,
whatever it is. You wonAt have to do anything.B
B2Ad hope not,B she said and looked the other
way.
-cross the road and across a dry wash a hundred
yards was what looked like a huge mobile%home
town, with a factory or a refinery of some kind lit
up behind it and in full swing. &here were lights on
in a lot of the mobile homes, and there were cars
moving along an access road that ended near the
freeway overpass a mile the other way. &he lights in
the mobile homes seemed friendly to me, and 2
knew right then what 2 should do.
B9et out,B 2 said, opening my door.
B-re we walking0B 5dna said.
B.eAre pushing.B
B2Am not pushing.B 5dna reached up and locked
her door.
B-ll right,B 2 said. B&hen you *ust steer.B
BYouAre pushing us to 8ock "prings, are you,
5arl0 2t doesnAt look like itAs more than about three
miles.B
B2All push,B (heryl said from the back.
BNo, hon. 3addy == push. You *ust get out with
Little 3uke and move out of the way.B
5dna gave me a threatening look, *ust as if 2Ad
tried to hit her. 7ut when 2 got out she slid into my
seat and took the wheel, staring angrily ahead
straight into the cottonwood scrub.
B5dna canAt drive that car,B (heryl said from out
in the dark. B"heAll run it in the ditch.B
BYes, she can, hon. 5dna can drive it as good as 2
can. #robably better.B
BNo she canAt,B (heryl said. BNo she canAt either.B
-nd 2 thought she was about to cry, but she didnAt.
2 told 5dna to keep the ignition on so it wouldnAt
lock up and to steer into the cottonwoods with the
parking lights on so she could see. -nd when 2
started, she steered it straight off into the trees, and
Lkept pushing until we were twenty yards into the
cover and the tires sank in the soft sand and noth%
ing at all could be seen from the road.
BNow where are we0B she said, sitting at the
wheel. 'er voice was tired and hard, and 2 knew
she could have put a good meal to use. "he had a
sweet nature, and 2 recogni$ed that this wasnAt her
fault but mine. 6nly 2 wished she could be more
hopeful.
BYou stay right here, and 2All go over to that
trailer park and call us a cab;B 2 said.
B.hat cab0B 5dna said, her mouth wrinkled as if
sheAd never heard anything like that in her life.
B&hereAll be cabs,B 2 said, and tried to smile at
her. B&hereAs cabs everywhere.B
B.hatAre you going to tell him when he gets
here0 6ur stolen car broke down and we need a
ride to where we can steal another one,0 &hatAll bea
big hit, 5arl.B
B2All talk,B 2 said. BYou *ust listen to the radio for
ten minutes and then walk on out to the shoulder
like nothing was suspicious. -nd you and (heryl act
nice. "he doesnAt need to know about this car.B
BLike weAre not suspicious enough already,
right0B 5dna looked up at me out of the lighted car.
BYou donAt think right, did you know that, 5arl0
You think the worldAs stupid and youAre smart. 7ut
thatAs not how it is. 2 feel sorry for you. You
mightAve *een something, but things *ust went
cra$y someplace.B
2 had a thought about poor 3anny. 'e was a vet
and cra$y as a shit%house mouse, and 2 was glad he
wasnAt in for all this. Bust get the baby in the car,B 2
said, trying to be patient. B2Am hungry like you are.B
B2Am tired of this,B 5dna said. B2 wish 2Ad stayed
in +ontana.B
B&hen you can go back in the morning,B 2 said.
B2All buy the ticket and put you on the bus. 7ut not
till then.B
Bust get on with it, 5arl.B "he slumped down in
the seat, turning off the parking lights with one foot
and the radio on with the other.
&he mobile%home community was as big as any 2Ad
ever seen. 2t was attached in some way to the plant
that was lighted up behind it, because 2 could see a
car once in a while leave one of the trailer streets,
turn in the direction of the plant, then go slowly
into it. 5verything in the plant was white, and you
could see that all the trailers were painted white
and looked exactly alike. - deep hum came out of
the plant, and 2 thought as 2 got closer that it
wouldnAt be a location 2Ad ever want to work in.
2 went right to the first trailer where there was a
light, and knocked on the metal door. :idsA toys
were lying in the gravel around the little wood
steps, and 2 could hear talking on &< that suddenly
+1
went off. 2 heard a womanAs voice talking, and then
the door opened wide.
- large Negro woman with a wide, friendly face
stood in the doorway. "he smiled at me and moved
forward as if she was going to come out, but she
stopped at the top step. &here was a little Negro
boy behind her peeping out from behind her legs,
watching me with his eyes half closed. &he trailer
had
that feeling that no one else was inside, which was a
feeling 2 knew something about.
B2Am sorry to intrude,B 2 said. B7ut 2Ave run up on
a little bad luck tonight. +y names 5arl
+iddleton.B
&he woman looked at me, then out into the night
toward the freeway as if what 2 had said was
something she was going to be able to see. BB.hat
kind of bad luck0B she said, looking down at me
again.
B+y car broke down out on the highway,B 2 said.
B2 canAt fix it myself, and 2 wondered if 2 could use
your phone to call for help.B
&he woman smiled down at me knowingly. B.e
canAt live without cars, can we0B
B&hatAs the honest truth,B 2 said.
B&heyAre like our hearts,B she said, her face
shining in the little bulb light that burned beside
the door. B.hereAs your car situated0B
2 turned and looked over into the dark, but 2
couldnAt see anything because of where weAd put it.
B2tAs over there,B 2 said. BYou canAt see it in the
darkB
B.ho allAs with you now0B the woman said.
B'ave you got your wife with you0B
B"heAs with my little girl and our dog in the car,B
2 said. B+y daughterAs asleep or 2 would have
brought them.B
B&hey shouldnAt be left in the dark by
themselves,B the woman said and frowned. B&hereAs
too much unsavoriness out there.B
B&he best 2 can do is hurry back.B 2 tried to look
sincere, since everything except (heryl being asleep
and 5dna being my wife was the truth. &he truth is
meant to serve you if youAll let it, and 2 wanted it to
serve me. B2All pay for the phone call,B 2 said. B2f
youAll bring the phone to the door 2All call from right
here.B
&he woman looked at me again as if she was
searching for a truth of her own, then back out into
the night. "he was maybe in her sixties, but 2
couldnAt say for sure. BYouAre not going to rob me,
are you, +r. +iddleton0B "he smiled like it was a
*oke between us.
BNot tonight,B 2 said, and smiled a genuine
smile. B2Am not up to it tonight. +aybe another
time.B
B&hen 2 guess &errel and 2 canlet you use our
phone with 3addy not here, canAt we, &errel0 &his
is my grandson, &errel unior, +r. +iddleton.B "he
put her hand on the boyAs head and looked down at
him. B&errel wonAt talk. &hough if he did heAd tell
you to use our phone. 'eAs a sweet boy.B "he
opened die screen for me to come in.
&he trailer was a big one with a new rug and a
new couch and a living room that expanded to give
the space of a real house. "omething good and
sweet was cooking in the kitchen, and the trailer
felt like it was somebodyAs comfortable new home
instead of *ust temporary. 2Ave lived in trailers, but
they were *ust snailbacks with one room and no
toilet, and they always felt cramped and unhappyG
though 2Ave thought maybe it mightAve been me that
was unhappy in them.
&here was a big "ony &< and a lot of kidsA toys
scattered on the floor. 2 recogni$ed a 9reyhound
bus 2Ad gotten for (heryl. &he phone was beside a
new leather recliner, and the Negro woman pointed
for me to sit down and call and gave me the phone
book. &errel began fingering his toyAs and the
woman sat on the couch while 2 called, watching
me and smiling.
&here were three listings for cab companies, all
with one number different. 2 called the numbers in
order and didnAt get an answer until the last one,
which answered with the name of the second
company. 2 said 2 was on the highway beyond the
interstate and that my wife and family needed to be
taken to town and 2 would arrange for a tow later.
.hile 2 was giving the location, 2 looked up the
name of a tow service to tell the driver in case he
asked.
.hen 2 hung up, the Negro woman was sitting
looking at me with the same look she had been
staring with into the dark, a look that seemed to
want truth. "he was smiling, though. "omething
pleased her and 2 reminded her of it.
B&his is a very nice home,B 2 said, resting in the
recliner, which felt like the driverAs seat of the
+ercedes, and where 2Ad have been happy to stay.
B&his isnAt our house, +r. +iddleton,B the Negro
woman said. B&he company owns these. &hey give
them to us for nothing. .e have our own home in
8ockford, 2llinois.B
B&hatAs wonderful,B 2 said.
B2tAs never wonderful when you have to be away
from home, +r. +iddle%ton, though weAre only here
three months, and itAll be easier when &errel unior
begins his special school. You see, our son was
killed in the war, and his wife ran off without &errel
unior. &hough you shouldnAt worry. 'e canAt
understand us. 'is little feelings canAt be hurt.B &he
woman folded her hands in her lap and smiled in a
satisfied way. "he was an attractive woman, and
had on a blue%and%pink floral dress diat made her
seem bigger than she couldAve been, *ust the right
woman to sit on the couch she was sitting on. "he
was good natures picture, and 2 was glad she could
be, with her little brain%damaged boy, living in a
place where no one in his right mind would want to
live a minute. B.here do you live, +r. +iddleton0B
she said politely, smiling in the same sympathetic
way.
+2
B+y family and 2 are in transit,B 2 said. B2Am an
ophthalmologist, and weAre moving back to Florida,
where 2Am from. 2Am setting up practice in some
little town where itAs warm year%round. 2 havenAt
decided where.B
BFloridaAs a wonderful place,B the woman said. B2
think &errel would like it there.B
(ould 2 ask you something0 = said.
BYou certainly may,B tlie woman said. &errel had
begun pushing his 9reyhound across the front of
the &< screen, making a scratch that no one watch%
ing the set could miss. B"top that, &errel unior,B
the woman said !uiedy. 7ut &errel kept pushing his
bus on the glass, and she smiled at me again as if
we both understood something sad. 5xcept 2 knew
(heryl would never damage a television set. "he
had respect for nice things, and 2 was sorry for the
lady that &errel didnAt. B.hat did you want to ask0B
the woman said.
B.hat goes on in that plant or whatever it is
back there beyond these trailers, where all the
lights are on0B
B9old,B the woman said and smiled.
B2tAs what0B 2 said.
B9old,B the Negro woman said, smiling as she
had for almost all the time 2Ad been there. B2tAs a
gold mine.B
B&heyAre mining gold back there0B 2 said,
pointing.
B5very night and every day.B "he smiled in a
pleased way. ZZ
B3oes your husband work there0B 2 said.
B'eAs the assayer,B she said. B'e controls the
!uality. 'e works three months a year, and we live
the rest of the time at home in 8ockford. .eAve
waited a long time for this. .eAve been happy to
have our grandson, but 2 wonAt say 2All be sorry to
have him go. .eAre ready to start our lives over.B
"he smiled broadly at me and then at &errel, who
was giving her a spiteful look from the floor. BYou
said you had a daughter,B the Negro woman said.
B-nd whatAs her name0B
B2rma (heryl,B 2 said. B"heAs named for my
mother.B
B&hatAs nice. -nd sheAs healthy, too. 2 can see it
in your face.B "he looked at &errel unior with pity.
B2 guess 2Am lucky,B 2 said.
B"o far you are. 7ut children bring you grief, the
same way they bring you *oy. .e were unhappy for
a long time before my husband got his *ob in the
gold mine. Now, when &errel starts to school, weAll
be kids again.B "he stood up. BYou might miss your
cab, +r. +iddleton,B she said, walking toward the
door, though not to be forcing me out. "he was too
polite. B2f we canAt see your car, the cab surely wonAt
be able to.B
B&hatAs true.B 2 got up off die recliner, where 2Ad
been so comfortable. BNone of us have eaten yet,
and your food makes me know how hungry we
probably all are.B
B&here are fine restaurants in town, and youAll
find them,B the Negro woman said. B2Am sorry you
didnAt meet my husband. 'eAs a wonderful man.
'eAs everything to me.B
B&ell him 2 appreciate the phone,B 2 said. BYou
saved me.B
BYou werenAt hard to save,B the woman said.
B"aving people is what we were all put on earth to
do. 2 *ust passed you on to whateverAs coming to
you.B
BLetAs hope itAs good,B 2 said, stepping back into
the dark.
B2All be hoping, +r. +iddleton. &errel and 2 will
both be hoping.B
2 waved to her as 2 walked out into the darkness
toward the car where it was hidden in the night.
&he cab had already arrived when 2 got there. 2
could see its little red%and%green roof lights all the
way across the dry wash, and it made me worry that
5dna was already saying sometxiing to get us in
trouble, something about the car or where weAd
come from, something that would cast suspicion on
us. 2 thought, then, how 2 never planned things well
enough. &here was always a gap between my plan
and what happened, and 2 only responded to things
as they came along and hoped 2 wouldnAt get in
trouble. 2 was an offender in the lawAs eyes. 7ut 2
always thought differendy, as if 2 werenAt an
offender and had no intention of being one, which
was the truth. 7ut as 2 read on a napkin once,
between the idea and the act a whole kingdom lies.
-nd 2 had a hard time with my acts, which were
oftentimes offenderAs acts, and my ideas, which
were as good as the gold they mined there where the
bright lights were bla$ing.
B.eAre waiting for you, 3addy,B (heryl said
when 2 crossed the road. B&he taxicabAs already
here.B
B2 see, hon,B 2 said, and gave (heryl a big hug.
&he cabdriver was sitting in the driverAs seat having
a smoke with the lights on inside. 5dna was leaning
against the back of the cab between the taillights,
wearing her 7ailey hat. B.hatAd you tell him0B 2
said when 2 got close.
BNothing,B she said. B.hatAs there to tell0B
B3id he see the car0B
"he glanced over in the direction of tlie trees
where we had hid the +ercedes. Nothing was
visible in the darkness, though 2 could hear Little
3uke combing around in the underbrush tracking
something, his little collar tinkling. B.hereAre we
going0B she said. B2Am so hungry 2 could pass out.B
B5dnaAs in a terrible mood,B (heryl said. B"he
already snapped at me.B
B.eAre tired, honey,B 2 said. 1#o try to be nicer.B
B"heAs never nice,B (heryl said.
B8un go get Little 3uke,B 2 said. B-nd hurry
back.B
+3
B2 guess my !uestions come last here, right0B
5dna said.
2 put my arm around her. B&hatAs not true.B
B3id you find somebody over there in the trailers
youAd rather stay with0 You were gone long
enough.B
B&hatAs not a thing to say,B 2 said. B2 was *ust
trying to make things look right, so we donAt get put
in *ail.B
B"oyou donAt, you mean.B 5dna laughed a little
laugh 2 didnAt like hearing.
B&hatAs right. "o 2 donAt,B 2 said. B2Ad be the one in
3utch.B 2 stared out at the big, lighted assemblage
of white buildings and white lights beyond the
trailer community, plumes of white smoke escaping
up into the heardess .yoming sky, the whole
company of buildings looking like some unbeliev%
able casde, humming away in a distorted dream.
BYou know what all those buildings are there0B 2
said to 5dna, who hadnAt moved and who didnAt
really seem to care if she ever moved anymore ever.
BNo. 7ut 2 canAt say it matters, because it isnAt a
motel and it isnAt a restaurant.B
B2tAs a gold mine,B 2 said, staring at the gold
mine, which, 2 knew now, was a greater distance
from us than it seemed, though it seemed huge and
near, up against the cold sky. 2 thought there
shouldAve been a wall around it with guards instead
of *ust the lights and no fence. 2t seemed as if
anyone could go in and take what they wanted, *ust
the way 2 had gone up to that womanAs trailer and
used the telephone, though that obviously wasnAt
true.
5dna began to laugh then. Not the mean laugh 2
didnAt like, but a laugh that had something caring
behind it, a full laugh that en*oyed a *oke, a laugh
she was laughing the first time 2 laid eyes on her, in
+issoula in the 5ast 9ate 7ar in ==E=, a laugh we
used to laugh together when (heryl was still with
her mother and 2 was working steady at the track
and not stealing cars or passing bogus checks to
merchants. - better time all around. -nd for some
reason it made me laugh *ust hearing her, and we
both stood there behind the cab in the dark,
laughing at the gold mine in the desert, me with my
arm around her and (heryl out rusding up Little
3uke and the cabdriver smoking in the cab and our
stolen +ercedes%7en$, which 2Ad had such hopes
for in Florida, stuck up to its axle in sand, where 2Ad
never get to see it again.
B2 always wondered what a gold mine would look
like when 2 saw it,B 5dna said, still laughing, wiping
a tear from her eye.
B+e too,B 2 said. B2 was always curious about it.B
B.eAre a couple of fools, arenAt we, 5arl0B she
said, unable to !uit laughing completely. B.eAre
two of a kind.B
B2t might be a good sign, though,B 2 said.
B'ow could it be0 2tAs not our gold mine. &here
arenAt any drive%up windows.B "he was still
laughing.
B.eAve seen it,B 2 said, pointing. B&hatAs it right
there. 2t may mean weAre getting closer. "ome
people never see it at all.B
B2n a pigAs eye, 5arl,B she said. BYou and me see
it in a pigAs eye.B
-nd she turned and got in the cab to go.
&he cabdriver didnAt ask anything about our car or
where it was, to mean heAd noticed something !ueer.
-ll of which made me feel like we had made a clean
break from the car and couldnAt be connected with it
until it was too late, if ever. &he driver told us a lot
about 8ock "prings while he drove, that because of
the gold mine a lot of people had moved there in
*ust six months, people from all over, including New
York, and that most of them lived out in the trailers.
#rostitutes from New York (ity, who he called B7%
girls,B had come into town, he said, on the
prosperity tide, and (adillacs with New York plates
cruised the little streets every night, full of Negroes
with big hats who ran the women. 'e told us that
everybody who got in his cab now wanted to know
where the women were, and when he got our call he
almost didnAt come because some of the trailers
were brothels operated by the mine for engineers
and computer people away from home. 'e said he
got tired of running back and forth out there *ust for
vile business. 'e said that J: Minutes had even
done a program about 8ock "prings and that a
blow%up had resulted in (heyenne, though nothing
could be done unless the boom left town. B2tAs
prosperityAs fruit,B the driver said. B2Ad rather be
poor, which is lucky for me.B
'e said all the motels were sky%high, but since
we were a family he could show us a nice one that
was affordable. 7ut 2 told him we wanted a first%
rate place where they took animals, and the money
didnAt matter because we had had a hard day and
wanted to finish on a high note. 2 also knew that it
was in the little nowhere places that die police look
for you and find you. #eople 2Ad known were always
being arrested in cheap hotels and tourist courts
with names youAd never heard of before. Never in
'oliday 2nns or&raveLodges.
2 asked him to drive us to the middle of town and
back out again so (heryl could see the train station,
and while we were there 2 saw a pink (adillac with
New York plates and a &< aerial being driven
slowly by a Negro in a big hat down a narrow street
where there were *ust bars and a (hinese
restaurant. 2t was an odd sight, nothing you could
ever expect.
B&hereAs your pure criminal element,B the
cabdriver said and seemed sad. B2Am sorry for
people like you to see a thing like that. .eAve got a
nice town here, but thereAre some that want to ruin
it for everybody. &here used to be a way to deal
with trash and criminals, but those days are gone
forever.B
BYou said it,B 5dna said.
+4
BYou shouldnAt let it get you down,B 2 said to
him. B&hereAs more of you than them. -nd there
always will be. YouAre die best advertisement this
town has. 2 know (heryl will remember you and not
that man, wonAt you, honey0B 7ut (heryl was
asleep by then, holding Little 3uke in her arms on
the taxi seat.
&he driver took us to the 8amada 2nn on the
interstate, not far from where weAd broken down. 2
had a small pain of regret as we drove under the
8amada awning that we hadnAt driven up in a
cranberry%colored +ercedes but instead in a beat%
up old (hrysler taxi driven by an old man full of
complaints.
&hough 2 knew it was for the best. .e were better
off without that car; better, really, in any other car
but that one, where the signs had turned bad.
2 registered under another name and paid for the
room in cash so there wouldnAt be any !uestions.
6n the line where it said B8epresentingB 2 wrote
B6phthalmologistB and put B+.3.B after the name.
2t had a nice look to it, even though it wasnAt my
name.
.hen we got to the room, which was in the back
where 2Ad asked for it, 2 put (heryl on one of the
beds and Little 3uke beside her so theyAd sleep.
"heAd missed dinner, but it only meant sheAd be
hungry in the morning, when she could have
anything she wanted. - few missed meals donAt
make a kid bad. 2Ad missed a lot of them myself and
havenAt turned out completely bad.
BLetAs have some fried chicken,B 2 said to 5dna
when she came out of the bathroom. B&hey have
good fried chicken at 8amadas, and 2 noticed the
buffet was still up. (heryl can stay right here, where
itAs safe, till weAre back.B
B2 guess 2Am not hungry anymore,B 5dna said.
"he stood at the window staring out into the dark. 2
could see out the window past her some yellowish
foggy glow in the sky. For a moment 2 thought it
was the gold mine out in the distance lighting the
night, though it was only the interstate.
B.e could order up,B 2 said. B.hatever you
want. &hereAs a menu on the phone book. You could
*ust have a salad.B
BYou go ahead,B she said. B2Ave lost my hungry
spirit.B "he sat on the bed beside (heryl and Little
3uke and looked at them in a sweet way and put
her hand on (herylAs cheek *ust as if sheAd had a
fever. B"weet little girl,B she said. B5verybody loves
you.B
B.hat do you want to do0B 2 said. B2Ad like to eat.
+aybe 7/ll order up some chicken.B
B.hy donAt you do that0B she said. B2tAs your
favorite.B -nd she smiled at me from the bed.
2 sat on the other bed and dialed room service. 2
asked for chicken, garden salad, potato and a roll,
plus a piece of hot apple pie and iced tea. 2 reali$ed
2 hadnAt eaten all day. .hen 2 put down the phone 2
saw that 5dna was watching me, not in a hateful
way or a loving way, *ust in a way that seemed to
say she didnAt understand something and was going
to ask me about it.
B.hen did watching me get so entertaining0B 2
said and smiled at her. 2 was trying to be friendly. 2
knew how tired she must be. 2t was after nine
oAclock.
B2 was *ust thinking how much 2 hated being in a
motel without a car that was mine to drive. 2snAt
that funny0 2 started feeling like that last night
when that purple car wasnAt mine. &hat purple car
*ust gave me the willies, 2 guess, 5arl.B
B6ne of those cars outside is yours,B 2 said. Bust
stand right there and pick it out.B
B2 know,B she said. B7ut thatAs different, isnAt it0B
"he reached and got her blue 7ailey hat, put it on
her head, and set it way back like 3ale 5vans. #he
looked sweet. B2 used to like to go to motels, you
know,B she said. B&hereAs something secret about
them and freeG2 was never paying, of course.%7ut
you felt safe from everything and free to do what
you wanted because youAd made the decision to be
there and paid that price, and all the rest was tie
good part. Fucking and everything, you know.B "he
smiled at me in a good%natured way.
B2snAt that the way this is0B 2 was sitting on the
bed, watching her, not
knowing what to expect her to say next.
B2 donAt guess it is, 5arl,B she said and stared out
the window. B2Am thirty%two and 2Am going to have
to give up on motels. 2 canAt keep that fantasy going
anymore.B
B3onAt you like this place0B 2 said and looked
around at the room. 2 appreciated the modern
paintings and the lowboy bureau and the big &<. 2t
seemed like a plenty nice enough place to me,
considering where weAd been.
BNo, 2 donAt,B 5dna said with real conviction.
B&hereAs no use in my getting mad at you about it. 2t
isnAt your fault. You do the best you can for every%
body. 7ut every trip teaches you something. -nd
2Ave learned 2 need to give up on motels before
some bad thing happens to me. 2Am sorry.B
B.hat does that mean0B 2 said, because 2 really
didnAt know what she had in mind to do, though 2
shouldAve guessed.
B2 guess 2All take that ticket you mentioned,B she
said, and got up and faced the window.
B&omorrowAs soon enough. .e havenAt got a car to
take me anyhow.B
B.ell, thatAs a fine thing,B 2 said, sitting on the
bed, feeling like 2 was in shock. 2 wanted to say
something to her, to argue with her, but 2 couldnAt
think what to say that seemed right. 2 didnAt want
to be mad at her, but it made me mad.
BYouAve got a right to be mad at me, 5arl,B she
said, Bbut 2 donAt think you can really blame me.B
"he turned around and faced me and sat on the
win%dowsill, her hands on her knees. "omeone
knocked on die door, and 2 *ust yelled for them to
set the tiny down and put it on the bill.
+5
B2 guess 2 do blame you,B 2 said, and 2 was angry.
2 thought about how 2 couidAve disappeared into
that trailer community and hadnAt, had come back
to keep things going, had tried to take control of
diings for everybody when they looked bad.
B3onAt. 2 wish you wouldnAt,B 5dna said and
smiled at me like she wanted me to hug her.
B-nybody ought to have their choice in things if
they can. 3onAt you believe that, 5arl0 'ere 2 am
out here in the desert where 2 donAt know anything,
in a stolen car, in a motel room under an assumed
name, with no money of my own, a kid thatAs not
mine, and the law after me. -nd 2 have a choice to
get out of all of it by getting on a bus. .hat would
you do0 2 know exactly what youAd do.B
BYou think you do,B 2 said. 7ut 2 didnAt want to
get into an argument about it and tell her all 2
couldAve done and didnAt do. 7ecause it wouldnAt
have done any good. .hen you get to the point of
arguing, youAre past the point of changing
anybodyAs mind, even though itAs supposed to be
the other way, and maybe for some classes of
people it is, *ust never mine.
5dna smiled at me and came across the room
and put her arms around me where 2 was sitting on
the bed. (heryl rolled over and looked at us and
smiled, then closed her eyes, and the room was
!uiet. 2 was beginning to think of 8ock "prings in a
way 2 knew 2 would always think of it, a lowdown
city full of crimes and whores and disappointments,
a place where a woman left me, instead of a place
where 2 got things on the straight track once and
for all, a place 2 saw a gold mine.
B5at your chicken, 5arl,B 5dna said. B&hen we
can go to bed. 2Am tired, but 2Ad like to make love to
you anyway. None of this is a matterof not loving
you, you know that.B
"ometime late in the night, after 5dna was
asleep, 2 got up and walked outside into the parking
lot. 2t couldAve been anytime because there was still
the light from the interstate frosting the low sky
and the big red 8amada sign humming
motionlessly in the night and no light at all in the
east to indicate it might be morning. &he lot was
full of cars all nosed in, a couple of them with
suitcases strapped to their roofs and their trunks
weighed down with belongings the people were
taking someplace, to a new home or a vacation
resort in the mountains. 2 had laid in bed a long
time after 5dna was asleep, watching the -danta
7raves on television, trying to get my mind off how
2Ad feel when 2 saw that bus pull away the next day,
and how 2Ad feel when 2 turned around and there
stood (heryl and Little 3uke and no one to see
about them but me alone, and that the first thing 2
had to do was get hold of some automobile and get
the plates switched, then get them some breakfast
and get us all on the road to Florida, all in the space
of probably two hours, since that +ercedes would
certainly look less hid in the daytime tiian the
night, and word travels fast. 2Ave always taken care
of (heryl myself as long as 2Ave had her with me.
None of the women ever did. +ost of them didnAt
even seem to like her, though they took care of me
in a way so that 2 could take care of her. -nd 2 knew
that once 5dna left, all that was going to get harder.
&hough what 2 wanted most to do was not think
about it *ust for a little while, try to let my mind go
limp so it could be strong for the rest of what there
was. 2 thought that the difference between a
successful life and an unsuccessful one, between me
at that moment and all the people who owned the
cars that were nosed into their proper places in the
lot, maybe between me and that woman out in the
trailers by the gold mine, was how well you were
able to put things like this out of your mind and not
be bothered by them, and maybe, too, by how many
troubles like this one you had to face in a lifetime.
&hrough luck or design they had all faced fewer
troubles, and by their own characters, they forgot
them faster. -nd thatAs what 2 wanted for me.
Fewer troubles, fewer memories of trouble.
2 walked over to a car, a #ontiac with 6hio tags,
one of the ones with bundles and suitcases strapped
to the top and a lot more in the trunk, by the way it
was riding. 2 looked inside the driverAs window.
&here were maps and paperback books and
sunglasses and the little plastic holders for cans
that hang on the window wells. -nd in the back
there were kidsA toys and some pillows and a cat
box with a cat sitting in it staring up at me like 2
was the face of the moon. 2t all looked familiar to
me, the very same things 2 would have in my car if 2
had a car. Nothing seemed surprising, nothing
different. &hough 2 had a funny sensation at that
moment and turned and looked up at the windows
along the back of the motel. -ll were dark except
two. +ine and another one. -nd 2 wondered,
because it seemed funny, what would you think a
man was doing if you saw him in the middle of the
night looking in the windows of cars in the parking
lot of the 8amada 2nn0 .ould you think he was
trying to get his head cleared0 .ould you think he
was trying to get ready for a day when trouble
would come down on him0 .ould you think his
girlfriend was leaving him0 .ould you think he had
a daughter0 .ould you think he was anybody like
you0
+6
/n Inter'ie# #ith Richard Ford
$i#hard %ord in #onversation with one of
Ameri#as foremost writers" Tim Adams&
When &he Lay of the Land was com&leted you
suggested you would never write another long
novel. "re you still feeling that wayH
2 still feel that way, possibly even more that way. The
$ay of the $and was, for me, a big effort and, as
efforts go, entirely singular. -nd it re!uires a
commensurate Iif not exactly e!ualJ devotion from
its readership. +ore than 2 can,t imagine myself
writing such a long novel again Iand 2 can,tJ, 2
neither can imagine wanting to write anything that
would Twork on a reader, with anything like the same
intense forceGlength, complexity, general largeness.
2,d like to write another novel, yes. 2,d like to write
plenty of things. 7ut 2 can,t imagine another such
undertaking as The $ay of the $and. "ome things
*ust don,t need to be done twiceGespecially since 2
feel like 2 did it right the first time.
You set that *oo at the time of the dis&uted first
Bush &residential election. 3o you feel that election
set "merica!s fateH
2t did set -merica,s fate. No !uestion. 2nsofar as the
election was stolen by the 8epublicans, and insofar
as the -merican electorate was sufficiently
uninspired as to permit such a close race, and
insofar as the two%party system Iparticularly the
feckless 3emocratsJ allowed a man of 9eorge
7ush,s astonishing incompetence and
dishonesty to become the leader of our country
Ginsofar as all these things are true and
occurred at the heart of the HDDD election,
then that set of events can be viewed as a
direct cause of the unthinkable circumstances
in 2ra! today, the cause of so much loss of
innocent life, and the cause of -merica,s near%
obliterated role as a potential force for good in
world affairs. 2s all this -merica,s final fate0 2
surely hope not. 2t,s the fix we,re in today. -nd
2 hope we have a better, more wholesome fate
than this. 7ut there,s no doubt about what was
the initial event in the chain of events that
landed us in this mess.
Why do you thin so many "merican
novelists.some sur&rising ones, <ohn
C&die, some less so, 3on 3e$illo.have felt
*ound to confront =N99 so directly in fictionH
&hey were moved by those events. 2t,s not very
complicated. 2n the case of 3eLillo and
Updike, they,re both supremely accomplished
writers who,re unusually confident of their
abilities to make a sub*ect their own. &he fact
that 2 wouldn,t do it, didn,t do it, probably *ust
means 2,m not their e!ual on either front.
6therwise 2,d have surely done it. 8ight0
Much of Fran Bascom*e!s dislocation and hurt
comes from the death of his son. "ll of your writing
seems to have some of this atmos&here of loss.
Where do you sense the source of that in your own
lifeH
First of all, 2 don,t think that a writer who writes
about loss Iif 2 doJ needs to have suffered loss
himself. .e can imagine loss. &hat,s the writer,s *ob.
.e empathi$e, we pro*ect, we make much of what
might be small experience. 'emingway Ias usual,
full of windJ said Tonly write about what you know,.
7ut that can,t mean you should only write about
what you yourself have done or experienced. - rule
like that pointlessly straps the imagination, confines
one,s curiosity, one,s capacity to empathi$e. -fter all,
a novel Iif it choosesJ can cause a reader to
experience sensation, emotion, to recogni$e
behaviour that reader may never have seen before.
&he writer,ll have to be able to do that, too. "ome
sub*ects *ust cause what :atherine -nne #orter
called a Tcommotion in the mind,. &hat commotion
may or may not be a response to what we actually
did on earth.
&hat said, 2 probably experienced loss no more fully
than most people. 2 was the child of older parents
who 2 always was fearfully expecting to die on me.
-nd the old -rkansas aunties and great uncles did
start departing life when 2 was *ust a small child.
6ne of my first vivid memories is of my -unt Li$$ie,s
funeralGin -rkansasGand of her lying in her casket.
<ivid, yes; but also rather normal in life. &hen my
father died when 2 was sixteenGdied in my arms, at
home. &hat could certainly be seen as imprinting.
+7
.e were a three%person family, very close and
loving. "o 2 experienced loss when he died; and
probably, as significantly, 2 experienced the loss my
mother sufferedGof her one great love in life. 'ow
we experience what we experience is a complex
business.
3id you, or do you, loo *ac on the years *efore
your father died, when there were the three of you,
as a golden timeH
No, not a golden time. 2,m suspicious of Tgolden
times,. 2 think that right now this minute had better
be the golden time, because it,s what you,ve got. 2
had a happy childhood because my parents loved me
and took good care of me. 7ut my father had a very
serious heart attack when 2 was eight and he was
forty%eight. -nd that coloured a lot of life, because it
scared him silly and he never felt entirely well after
thatGprobably wasn,t well. -nd he was gone a lot.
'is *ob as a salesman caused him to travel by car five
days a week, and my mother and 2 were left at home
together. -nd we were both of us pretty volatile
personalities. -nd 2 never did particularly well in
school; was, as time went by, a kid who tended to get
into troubleGstealing, getting into fights. 2 was
dyslexic and never read very well. "o, no. T9olden, it
wasn,t. 7ut it was good.
Richard Ford and his hunting dogs.
3id the stealing have conseFuences.did you get
caughtH
.e,re not talking about holding up 7rink,s trucks,
here, or +anson Family capers; *ust, oh, stealing the
odd car, some random breaking and enterings, and
many lesser offences. -nd 2 did get caught, got
hauled in front of the *uvenile *udge, put on
probationGwhich was sort of awful but also sort of a
badge of honour. 2t all scared my mother, though,
made her miserable, in fact. -nd as far as
conse!uence was concerned, 2 suppose 2 saw what
conse!uence my behaviour had on herGwhich was
bad. 2 was on probation at the time my father
suddenly died; and my mother sat me down and told
me that she wasn,t going to be able to look after me
the way she had up to thenGbecause she had to go
out and get a *obGand that 2,d better not turn up in
*ail or *uvenile court again because she wouldn,t get
me out. &hat made a big impression of me. 2 guess
that,s conse!uence of a kind. 7ut 2 wasn,t a very
committed felon. +ore of a little dickhead.
3o you thin the dysle;ia has sha&ed how you have
readH
-bsolutely. 2 read slowly, and as a conse!uence have
definitely not read as many books as 2 should,veGin
order to be considered properly educated. 7ut what
2,ve readGbecause 2,ve read slowly and attentivelyG2
seem to have taken in pretty well. -nd, importantly,
when you read slowly you also become available to
those !ualities of language that,re other than the
cognitive !ualities. 6ne becomes sensitive to what
you might call the poetic !ualitiesGrhythms,
repetitions, sonorities, syncopations, the aptness of
particular word choicesGthose !ualities. &hey,re
importantGat least they are to me. &hat,s had a
conse!uence not only upon my reading but also
upon my aims as a writer of sentences.
3o you always now what a Richard Ford sentence
sounds lieH
2 don,t think there,s any signature to my sentences.
2,ve heard some people say there is, but that,s *ust a
gesture meant to flatter me. 7ecause 2,m sure there,s
not. - sentence,s style or manner, or a book full of
sentences with styles or manners, is a response to a
variety of forces operating on a writer4 the writer,s
sensuous, instinctual relation to the material itself;
the accumulated amount of material that precedes
the writing; the writer,s history with other books that
may or may not have entertained some of the same
sub*ect matter, or books that the writer simply
admires; the daily tidal changes in any person,s
mood and energies. -nd much more. -ll these things
affect how sentences get writtenGhow many words
they hold, how syntactically complex they are, their
diction and all word%choosings, what they undertake
to elucidate. -nd in the course of any one book these
stylistic characteristics can and often do change or
modulate. 2t,s certainly the case that over the course
of any writer,s life his or her grasp on sentences will
also changeGeither from book to book, sub*ect to
sub*ect, or *ust as one gets older. 2 think that The
$ay of the $and has longer, complexer sentences
because my mind Imy older man,s mindJ was *ust
fuller of things that interested me, and 2 didn,t want
+*
to lose a lot of them. "o, 2 devised sentences to keep
all that stuff and put them in play. You can say that
was ambition, or you could say it was poor *udgment
and an inability to discriminate. 2,d say it was
ambition, because 2 like the book a lotGlike its
thoroughness.
#eople can get preoccupied by such stylistic matters
as Tvoice,4 having a consistent Tvoice,, a true Tvoice,, a
Tvoice, of one,s own. &his conception of voice can
have something to do with a writer,s purported
signature. 7ut to me this isn,t very important. &o me
Tvoice, is probably *ust the music of the story,s
intelligence, how it sounds when it,s being smart, or
when it,s working on the reader. -nd that music, like
a story,s style, can change, and does change. "o, a
8ichard Ford sentence will usually be differently
made from one piece of writing to the next. .hich is
fine with me.
4ow aware were you of Eudora Welty in <acson
while you were growing u&H
.ell, 2 knew her name. 6ne did, in ackson. 2 went
to school with her niece, 5li$abeth. 7ut, 5udora,d
grown up directly across the street from me on
(ongress "treet, and 2 didn,t even know that until 2
was far along into adulthood. 2 also didn,t read
anything of hers Ior anything much at allJ until 2 was
in college and had it presented to me on a syllabus.
5udora livedGon #inehurst "treetGnot so far away
from us when 2 was growing up. .alking distance.
7ut it was in another, somewhat better Told ackson,
neighbourhood than ours. +y mother once pointed
5udora out to me at the grocery storeG2 might,ve
been eight. "he said T8ichard, that,s 5udora .elty,
over there. "he,s a writer., 2 could tell from the tone
of my mother,s voice that she thought being a writer
was good.
3id she write anything herself, your mother 7
meanH
2nterestingGto me, anyway. .hen 2 was going
through my mother,s belongings after she,d died, in
=>F=, 2 found a notebook that had only one line
written in it, on its first page, and in my mother,s
!uite elegant hand. 2t said TLes, - life,. Now my
grandmother, her mother, was called LesGsome
version of her real name, which was 5ssie. +y
mother took care of my grandmother through the
last years of my grandmother,s life. -nd it was not
an easy passage. +y grandmother was capable of
great, aggressive nastiness. -nd 2 know my mother
got in the way of it a lot. .e all did at one time or
other. 7ut it may have seemed to my mother that
some act of writingGfictive or otherwiseGwas the
best way to record or imagine her own experience.
2,d guess, too, it was partly because she had a son
who was a novelist that this began to seem possible
to her. 7ut. "he never did itGwhich is all right. "he
didn,t want to enough.
3o you thin stories are created or discoveredH
&hat,s easy. "tories are created. 2t isn,t as if they,re
Tout there, waiting in some #latonic hyper%space like
unread emails. &hey aren,t. .riters make stories up.
2t might be that when stories turn out to be good
they then achieve a !uality of inevitability, of there
seeming to have been a previously existing and
important space that they perfectly fill. 7ut that isn,t
what,s true. 2,m sure of it. - story makes its own
space and then fills it. .riters don,t Tfind, storiesG
although some writers might say so. &his to me *ust
means they have a vocabulary that,s inade!uate at
depicting what they actually do. &hey,re like
'emingwayGalways fleeing complexity as if it were
a barn fire.
You have written movingly of Aew Brleans, in
memory of your feelings for that city, where you
and %ristina have lived and wored0 has that
disaster altered your &erce&tion of lossH
2 don,t know that 2 ever had a previous Tperception,
of loss. 7ut the disaster in New 6rleans surely didn,t
sponsor a new one. +y sense of permanence has
always included the likely demolition of all vestiges
of permanenceGhouses, street corners, trees
whereon we carved our names in hearts, persons. 2t
can all go, and will. 2n -merica we white people
sentimentali$e permanenceGor at least we once
could. 7ut Native -mericans certainly don,t. 7lacks
probably don,t either. 5uropeans of a certain age
don,t. 2 don,t.
4as faith or churchDgoing ever had any a&&eal to
youH
Not church%going. 7ut faith, wellX &here,s the
famous line in 'ebrews ==4 TFaith is the evidence of
things unseen,. 2,ve always been attracted to that
line. 7ut for specifically ir%religious reasons. 2 deem
that line to be a line about the imagination. 2 could
almost say that, Tthe imagination is the evidence of
things unseen,. 7ut again specifically 2,d say that my
Tfaith, lies in the imagination and in the
imagination,s power to bring into existence essential
experience that heretofore wasn,t known to exist.
That reminds me of Fran Bascom*e!s line' OThe
unseen e;ists and has &ro&erties.! 3o you have an
ongoing sense of that Ounseen!, or only at certain
charged momentsH
2 don,t much think about the unseen. For lack of
great erudition, or a great education, 2 suppose 2,ve
stored a fair amount of trust in my instinct. 7ut as
soon as 2 see that written down 2 start to think that
instinct may *ust be another word for luck and for
trusting to luckGwhich 2,ve done. - favourite line 2
repair to is by the philosopher 3aniel 3ennett, who
said4 T.e have a built%in, very potent, hairtriggered
tendency to find agency in things that are not
agents., 2,m not sure if 3ennett approves of that
tendency or not. 7ut certainly that,s one of the things
literature doesGit ascribes agency where before no
agency was noticed4 it says this causes that, this is a
conse!uence of that, etc. 2t may be that writing
++
fiction, imagining agencies, is my most trusted way
into the unseen.
There is a ind of unflinching morality in many of
your stories. 7!m thining &articularly of the tales of
adultery in - +ultitude of "ins. Trangression has
conseFuences, even if only in &ointing u& the
em&tiness of lives. 3oes this moral sense grow out
of characters, or does the moral engine come firstH
2 don,t know a specific answer to that. 2n most of
those stories 2 didn,t start with a character. 2 usually
don,t. 2 usually start either with a situation Ia man
meets his ex%lover,s husband in 9rand (entral
"tation; a married couple are on their way to a party,
when the young wife informs her young husband
that she,s had an affair with the host of the party
they,re attendingGthose are examplesJ. 6r else 2 *ust
go looking for bits and pieces that 2 want a story to
contain, and organi$e the story out of those bits. 2
suppose when 2 put it that way, and in terms of your
!uestion, the Tmoral engine, may seem to come first,
be an unspoken force in the choosings. 7ut 2,m
entirely unaware of its being so. 2 hold with the
notion that +artin -mis !uoted Northrop Frye to
say4 that literature is a disinterested use of language;
a writer must have nothing riding on the outcome. 2
set up situations and then see what 2 can have
happen as a conse!uence, using language. -nd, at
least in theory, the conse!uence could pretty much
be anything.
3oes that &rinci&le of disinterest a&&ly eFually in
your novels, is it tough not to *e rooting for Fran,
sayH
2,m always rooting for Frank to do something, or
have something to say that,s not expected, but
interesting, given the conventional sort of man the
reader may be imagining him to beGa real estate
agent, etc. "o, the rule of disinterest still applies. 2t
should also be said, of course, that 2,m not bound
strictly by that rule. 2f by following it 2 write
something that 2 don,t like, or have Frank or any
character say or do something that seems dumb or
somehow wrong, 2 can *ust scratch it out and often
do. 2 never saw Frank as a human being Ialthough
2,d like the reader to think he was pretty close to
being a human beingJ. 8ather 2 saw him as an
agency made of language. "o, 2 wouldn,t be Trooting,
for him the way you,d root for the kid with
'odgkin,s 3isease to see one last game at Yankee
"tadium. 2t,s different. 2 may be more rooting for
myself to come up with something good.
3o you find your em&athy with the weanesses of
your characters has dee&ened as you have grown
olderH
+y empathy with every kind of weakness has
deepened. 2s it a matter of age0 +aybe. +ore
probably it,s *ust a matter of experience. 9raham
9reene wroteGand 2,ve always hated the ideaGthat
morality comes with old age, with one,s curiosity
growing weak. &hat,s a sourpuss,s notion of
morality. -s something that,s moribund. -nd 2 don,t
buy it. +aybe that,s because my curiosity still seems
strong.
7n your introduction to &he New 9ranta 7ook of the
-merican "hort "tory you Fuote Walter Ben,amin
suggesting OWe no longer wor at things that can!t
*e a**reviated!, &erha&s a factor of waning
curiosity. What is your feeling for "merica!s
attention s&anH
&hat was 7en*amin expressing his displeasure with
modern times. #robably an observer could make, or
could,ve made, the same claim about the
contemporary attention span at any given time in
history. 7ut as for me, and as for now, 2 see lots of
people on airplanes reading really long books; 2 see
the Tyoung, of my country, as well as their beaverish
parents, spending long, long, long periods of time in
front of computer screens; 2 see athletes training and
training until they drop. "o, 2 conclude from this
admittedly unscientific survey, that plenty of
-mericans have plenty of attention availableGfor
something. 2t may not be for literary fiction. 7ut
then it,s my *ob as a purveyor of literary fiction to tap
into that otherwise wasted attention span. 7ut it,s
there.
You have rarely written of childhood, in the way
that, for instance, To*ias Wolff has0 has that
territory never tem&ted youH
.ell, 2,d say 2 have written about childhood. "everal
of the stories in Roc #&rings are narrated by
teenagers, as is all of Wildlife. -nd in the New ersey
books there are Frank,s kids all around Gespecially
in 7nde&endence 3ay. +aybe in your terms a
teenager isn,t a child; and maybe that,s true. 7ut 2
always think 2,ve written about childrenGbecause 2
always brag that it,s a lot easier to write about
children than to have them. -nd 2 don,t have any.
To what e;tent do you thin your life was sha&ed
*y *eing an only child among *ig #outhern
familiesH
&hat,s one of those !uestions that asks me to
imagine another life from my own. 2 suppose 2 could
Ga life with brothers and sistersGbut it,s a bit like
asking whether things have been different, do you
suppose, if you,d been a girl. #robably would. 7eing
an only child, however, shaped a great, great deal in
my life. - psychologist could probably give a better
answer than 2 could, and probably a truer answer,
too. 7ut 2,ll *ust propose one thing4 that 2 was almost
always around adults when 2 was !uite young. -dult
life was the Timportant, life, the aspired%to life, and 2
could eavesdrop on it all the time, hear what adults
thought was important, observe discrepancies in
their behaviours and their pronouncements. 2t
probably also intensified the faith that 2 had in
parent)child relationships, inasmuch as my parents
seemed to have wanted me, loved me, wanted good
for me. 2t might,ve also caused me to fear loss more
than would,ve been the case had there been others
1,,
around. -nd 2 think that in myself Iand perhaps
evident in what 2 writeJ fear of loss and the
corresponding instinct to protect myself against loss
are potent forces.
3o you thin that instinct to &rotect yourself
against loss is one of the reasons you chose not to
have childrenH
3octor Freud might say so. 7ut 2 *ust say that it was
because :ristina and 2 didn,t especially like children,
didn,t want to be saddled with the responsibility of
them. .e had our ideas about the future, and there
was never room for children in those ideas. 2t was
really the first important thing we ever agreed on
when we were in our teens together, in +ichigan. 2
remember the exact moment we first talked about it.
2t was great.
There are, you!ve said, two fi;ed &oints in your life'
O7 always write and 7 am always married to the
same girl.! 7n what ways does one de&end on the
otherH
2,ve answered that !uestion enough for one lifetime.
"ll right0 you!ve also said that you consciously
want your writing to *e Oaffirmative! of the
&ossi*ility of love, closeness in a life, what maes
you hold to thatH
Not to keep on !uoting famous men, but somewhere
in .allace "tevens there,s a little fragment that says,
Twe gulp down evil, choke at good,. &hat,s always
meant to me that it,s more appeti$ing to decry, and
less appeti$ing, maybe less simple, to find a
vocabulary for affirmation. -nd also Tcloseness in a
life, and Iif you willJ Tlove, seem immensely
sustaining to me, and worthy of efforts at
articulation. &hat said, 2,ve written mostly stories
that would have to be called Tcautionary tales,, and
that a lot of readers would not think of as
conventionally affirming. 'owever, 2 hold with ohn
9ardner Mthe novelist and early supporter of
8aymond (arverN who said that moral literature Iby
which 2 understand him to have meant good
literature, valuable literatureJ Ttests values and
arouses trustworthy feelings about the better and
worse in human actions,. &o me, indeed, great
literature is always affirming, even if it,s grimGif
only because it,s a gesture by someone for the use of
another in a future that,s hoped to come. "artre said
even the grimmest literature is optimistic since it
proves those things can be thought about.
#o literature maes us want to *e *etter men (and
women)H
2 don,t know about that. 2 *ust know it gives a reader
the chance to see life affirmed through literature,s
great concern with life. -nd it gives the reader a
chanceGin the sheltered environment of a bookGto
see the important conse!uences of events. +aking
one want to be better, well that,s a private matter. 2
have some evidence that that may not be accurateG
although wanting to be better and being better are
obviously different things.
What did you mae of *eing descri*ed as a O3irty
Realist! *y 9rantaH
2 thoughtGwe probably all thoughtGthat T3irty
8ealism, was a wonderful marketing ploy. 2 don,t
think (arver or &oby .olff or ayne -nne #hillips or
any of us ever thought it really described anything
especially true or thematically consistent in our
stories. 7ill 7uford *ust dreamed it up to sell
maga$ines in 7ritain. -nd it worked very, very well.
.e,re still talking about it, aren,t we0 -t the timeG
the middle 5ightiesG2 had no books in print, and no
readership. &his wasn,t true for the other writers in
the T3irty 8ealism, issue. 7ut it was true for me. -nd
7ill,s scheme helped me find a readership for my
stories. 2 can,t thank him enough.
3id you ever thin of giving u& at that timeH
2 certainly did. 2 thought that 2,d had my shot at
being a novelist and it hadn,t worked out well
enough. 2 went over to #&orts 7llustrated and asked
for a *ob. 7ut the guy who was running it told me no.
'e said 2 was a novelist Icruel ironyJ, and that 2
couldn,t be a sportswriter. "o 2 went home and wrote
The #&ortswriter. 7ut if he,d given me a *ob 2,d
almost assuredly have taken it and been very, very
happy. 2,d be retired now and have a big pension. 2t
would,ve been a great life.
7t seemed to me natural to grou& you with -arver
and To*ias Wolff as writers to the e;tent that you
had some ind of shared interest in a sort of lonely
or alienated masculinity. Where do you thin that
came fromH
2 never think about that. -t our best Iif 2 have a best
Gand certainly they doJ, our stories weren,t that
much alike. -nd frankly 2 can,t think about my own
characters in those rather cosseted, conventional
termsGalienated, lonely, even masculine. 2,m not
interested in Tmasculinity,. 2,d be surprised if 8ay or
&oby would,ve said much different. 7ut. 2 do know
that 2 inherited much of my sense of what a story
could be and be about from my readingGfrom Frank
6,(onnor, from "herwood -nderson, from Faulkner,
from 2saac 7abel, from Flannery 6,(onnorGalas,
from 'emingway, who seems influential in only the
most superficial ways. "o, that,s where my first ideas
came from.
You!ve lived longer than your father, do you catch
yourself maing his gestures, or have a eener
im&ression of his life now you have reached and
&assed his ageH
2 look like my father. 2 sometimes feel my facial
features arranging themselves into visages that 2
know are like his. &he long 2rish upper lip lapsing
over the poor lower one in a state of pu$$lement; my
tendency to sigh at moments of frustration; the
fierce swarm into anger; the tendency to strike out at
1,1
something Ior someoneJ that threatens me. 2 saw all
this in him when he was in my life. -nd 2 accept
them in myselfGwhich isn,t to say 2 glory in them.
&hat said, 2 have a paler and paler recollection of
him as time,s gone on. -nd 2 feel the poorer for that.
2 liked him very much.
3o you thin men are *orn with more ways to fail
than womenH
2 don,t know what that means. 7ut, no. .omen and
men seem a lot more alike than they,re given credit
for. - lot of Tinterests,, of course, are deeply and
perniciously invested in keeping them apart and
distinct.
You have written a*out your love of hunting. 3oes
it inform your writingH
2t,s certainly informed some storiesGthe ones that,re
expressly about hunting4 T(ommunist,, T9reat Falls,,
T(alling,. 7ut in general 2 think it,s *ust been a thing 2
like to do that hasn,t much informed my writing. 2
don,t like to read hunting stories. T(ommunist, 2
wrote back in =>@C, only because &om +c9uane and
2 were out hunting partridge in +ontana, and he told
me he knew a guy who was preparing an anthology
of hunting stories and if 2 ever wrote a hunting story
2 should send it to this guy. 2 never had before. 7ut 2
did. -nd T(ommunist, was it. 2 probably never wrote
a better story than that. 9o figure.
Tell me a*out your relationshi& with your 4arleyD
3avidson0 it feels lie an esca&e clauseH
.hen 2 got back to owning motorcycles, in the mid%
5ighties, 2 used to say Iin my boyish wayJ that a
fellow needed to have something around that could
kill him. -nd at heart, once we get past the snapshot
visions of oneself astride the rakish machine, and the
appeal of the sound of the thing, and the wind%in%
your%hair imagery, and the hoped%for effect on
womenGonce that,s all gone by, 2 guess 2 still feel the
way 2 did in the mid%5ighties.
You don!t strie me as someone with a selfD
destructive urge though.not at allH
2 don,t think 2 have a self%destructive urge. 7ut the
prospect of one,s eventual end is pretty firmly fixed
in my brain. -nd 2,d certainly like to think 2 held my
fate in my own hands should 2 be struck by some
withering disease. 2 remember when my mother died
Gof breast cancerGand :ristina and 2 were sitting
on her bed, getting dressed for her funeral, the
phone rang. -nd it was one of my mother,s old -rkie
cousins, from up in the sticks. &his woman was *ust
calling up to express her condolences, 2 guess. 2 had
no idea who she was, *ust a scratchy voice on the
phone, there in Little 8ock. "he said a few consoling
things. -nd then she saidGand this woman didn,t
know me; she said, TNow, 8ich%ard. Your mamma
died of cancer. "o, hon, you,re gonna get it, too.
3on,t forget that., T6kay, 2 won,t,, 2 said. T&hanks.,
ust a kind sober thought toward the future to
penetrate one,s grief.
What did you learn in writing and in life from
Raymond -arverH
2 did learn some things from 8ay. "ometimes people
ask me if he was my teacher; but he wasn,t. 'e and 2
were close friends, and were colleagues. 7ut he
wasn,t that much older than meGseven years. .e
were pretty much contemporaries. &hough it seems
strange that he,s been gone now for nearly twenty
years. 7ut. 6ne thing that may seem insignificant,
but wasn,t, was that his parents and my parents
came from pretty much the same placeGwest
-rkansas. 'is parents had gone out west, and mine
had gone down southGfor work. -nd from that
coincidence, and from admiring 8ay,s early stories
very much, and admiring his own instincts for
writing them, 2 think 2 drew some corroborative
strength that my own inherited storage of what was
interesting and what a story could be was, in fact,
valuable and credible. 8ay and 2 en*oyed a kind of
unspoken confidence that we came from the same
stockGpossibly rough stock.
7eyond that, his early stories and our friendshipG
which began as he was writing his second bookG
definitely encouraged me to try writing stories again
myself. 2,d !uit writing stories in the "eventies
because 2 *ust couldn,t do it very well. 7ut 8ay,s
stories seemed so natural, almost easy Imany people
have thought that to their ruinJ, that 2 thought 2,d try
my hand at it again. -nd 2 did. -t least a couple of
the stories in Roc #&rings bear signs of his stylistic
influence. 'e always encouraged me to write stories,
although 2,m sure he felt confident he would always
be better at it than 2,d be.
4e must!ve learned things from you as well,
thoughH
2 don,t know what he could,ve learned from me.
&here might,ve been something. .e were friends, we
talked about work a lot. .e had that confidence that
came from our family background. -nd 2,m sure 2
reenforced his confidence about his work. 2 also had
opinions about some of the stories in his book What
We Tal "*out When We Tal "*out $oveGall of
which he showed me in early drafts. 7ut most of
what 2 didn,t like he re*ected and later chided me for.
-lthough there was that story, 2 think it,s T- "mall
9ood &hing,, that 2 and others Ithe poet 3onald 'all
and 9eoffrey .olff, probably &oby, tooJ complained
to him about. 'e,d shown that story to us in an early,
much more fully developed form. -nd then he
published it in a rather harshly curtailed form. -nd
we all told 8ay he should restore it to its fuller self
when he collected it in a subse!uent volume. -nd he
did. 'is work was growing, his sentences getting
longer, more complex, his sympathies and
intellectual reach expanding. &ess M9allagher,
(arver,s second wifeN had a big influence on himG
probably the biggest influence. 2 think that 2Gand
again 2 was *ust one of a few people he trustedG2 *ust
1,2
told him work was wonderful, and that was probably
the most of it.
You shared an a*solute commitment to the *usiness
of writing stories' have you always had that wor
ethicH
No. 2 haven,t. 2 always wished 2 had itGfrom an early
age. 7ut 2 didn,t for a long time. 2tGthe work ethicG
*ust arrived during the summer of =>EK, when 2 was
nineteen. 2,m not sure where it came from. 2 was
working on the +issouri #acific 8ailroad as a
switchman, and making lots of money and having a
pretty happy life. 2 was supposed to go to college in
the autumn, and was giving thought to *ust staying
working on the railroad. 7ut 2 ended up going to
school, instead.
+aybe seeing those working guys 2 spent my days
with made an impression on me; or maybe it was
that 2 wanted to impress :ristina. 2 don,t really
know. 7ut when 2 got to school, in +ichigan, 2 was
*ust a changed boy. .hatever thresholds 2,d not
ventured to crossGwith regard to my studies, for
instanceG2 *ust barged across. -nd it,s been that way
ever since. 7ut 2 should sayGabout myself and about
a work ethicGit,s pretty boring. &hat,s why we
associate the Tethic, with #rotestants, who,re also
pretty boring. 2t may lead one on to good, but it
doesn,t feel like much of a virtue, frankly.
- work ethic story, though. .hen 2 was in college 2
lived with a guy named &om (andee, who,s now a
veterinarian not far from where 2 liveGdown in
+assachusetts. -nd every term our grades came out,
and (andee used to laugh at meGrail at me, really.
'e used to say, TLook at Ford, he got all -s, but had
to worked like a pig to get it. .hereas me, 2 got all -s
and never turned a hand. 2,m smart. 'e,s not., .e
eventually came to pretty serious blows, (andee and
me, because that used to get under my skin real bad.
7ut the truth was he was right. 2 did work like a pig.
'e barely lifted a hand. "o, to me, a work ethic has
always been a kind of blue%collar trait, something 2
have to embrace to do anything that,s worthwhileG
but spectacularly inferior to being able to walt$
through life. 2 am, however, glad not to be a
veterinarian.
7 remem*er taling to %a+uo 7shiguro and he said
he imagined the rest of his life in terms of how
many novels he would *e lucy enough to com&lete,
if he s&ent, as was his ha*it, five or si; years on
each. 3o you have a &owerful sense of finite timeH
.ell, the return on 2sh,s investment is !uite
wonderful, isn,t it0 "o his attitude puts a much better
burnish on those working virtues than 2 can hope to
put. 2 suppose 2 do share a sense of finite time, all
right. 7ut 2 don,t measure it in terms of how many
novels 2,ll write, or might write. 2 agree that to get to
write a novel at all is very, very luckyGto get to do
one,s best, to get to do what 3ostoevsky and
Faulkner did, to try to contribute good to the life of
people you don,t know. -ll that,s a great privilege.
7ut every time 2 finish a novel, or a book Iand 2,ve
only finished nineJ, 2 ask myself if this isn,t enough
now. 2,ve given this last effortGwhatever it wasGmy
very best. 2,ve held back nothing. 'ave 2 not perhaps
gone along this course as far as 2 can go0 -re my
returns not likely to begin to diminish0 (ould 2 really
have anything as important as this to write again0
"omeday, 2 assume, my answer will be, TYes, this is
enough., 2 don,t see writing as a profession,
something 2,m married to forever. 2 have to reinvent
it every time. -nd 2 also see that there,s more to life
than writing. 2 see that portrayed in other people,s
lives all the time. 2,m as curious about that as 2 ever
was.
The greatest short story writers it seems to me are
those with the clearest sense of an ending. 3o you
always now when you are doneH
Yes, 2 always know when a story,s finished. -nd 2
hope that makes me one of the greatest short story
writersGif that,s what it takes.
There!s a line you once used' OYour life is the
*lue&rint you mae after the *uilding is *uilt.! 4ow
do you thin your own *lue&rint will loo when the
time comesH
"ketchy. .hatever there is of good in it is either
privateGsomething 2 shared with :ristinaGor else
it,s all gone into what 2,ve written. &hat seems *ust
fine.
2anta Maga+ine, no. >>, -utumn HDDF
1,3
6
Mu2her>ee Bharati
The Management o! Grie!
- woman 2 don,t know is boiling tea the 2ndian way
in my kitchen. /&here are a lot of women 2 don,t
know in my kitchen, whispering, and moving
tactfully. &hey open doors, rummage through the
pantry, and try not to ask me where things are kept.
&hey remind me of when my sons were small, on
+other,s 3ay or when <ikram and 2 were tired, and
they would make big, sloppy omelets. 2 would lie in
bed pretending 2 didn,t hear them.
3r. "harma, the treasurer of the 2ndo%(anada
"ociety, pulls me into the hallway. 'e wants to know
if 2 am worried about money. 'is wife, who has *ust
come up from the basement with a tray of empty
cups anti glasses, scolds him. /3on,t bother +rs.
7have with mundane details.1 "he looks so
monstrously pregnant her baby must be days
overdue. 2 tell her she shouldn,t be carrying heavy
things. /"haila,1 she says, smiling, /this is the fifth.1
&hen she grabs a teenager by his shirttails. 'e slips
his .alkman off his head. 'e has to be one of her
four children, they have the same domed and dented
foreheads.
/.hat,s the official word now01 she demands.
&he boy slips the headphones back on. /&hey,re
acting evasive, +a. &hey,re saying it could be an
accident or a terrorist bomb.1
-ll morning, the boys have been muttering, "ikh
7omb, "ikh 7omb. &he men, not using the word,
bow their heads in agreement. +rs. "harma touches
her forehead at such a word. -t least they,ve stopped
talking about space debris and 8ussian lasers.
&wo radios are going in the dining room. &hey
are tuned to different stations. "omeone must have
brought the radios down from my boys, bedrooms. 2
haven,t gone into their rooms since :usum came
running across the front lawn in her bathrobe. "he
looked so funny, 2 was laughing when 2 opened the
door.
&he big &< in the den is being whi$$ed through
-merican networks and cable channels.
/3amnL1 some man swears bitterly. /'ow can
these preachers carry on like nothing,s happened01 2
want to tell him we,re not that important. You look
at the audience, and at the preacher in his blue robe
with his beautiful white hair, the potted palm trees
under a blue sky, and you know they care about
nothing.
&he phone rings and rings. 3r. "harma,s taken
charge. /.e,re with her,1 he keeps saying. /Yes, yes,
the doctor has given calming pills. Yes, yes, pills are
having necessary effect.1 2 wonder if pills alone
explain this calm. Not peace, *ust a deadening !uiet.
2 was always controlled, but never repressed. "ound
can reach me, but my body is tensed, ready to
scream. 2 hear their voices all around me. 2 hear my
boys and <ikram cry, /+ommy, "hailaL1 and their
screams insulate me, like headphones.
&he woman boiling water tells her story again
and again. /2 got the news first. +y cousin called
from 'alifax before six -.+., can you imagine0 'e,d
gotten up for prayers and his son was studying for
medical exams and he heard on a rock channel that
something had happened to a plane. &hey said first it
had disappeared from the radar, like a giant eraser
*ust reached out. 'is father called me, so 2 said to
him, what do you mean, Vsomething badV0 You
mean a hi*acking0 -nd he said, *ehn, there is no
confirmation of anything yet, but check with your
neighbors because a lot of them must be on that
plane. "o 2 called poor :usum straightaway. 2 knew
:usum,s husband and daughter were booked to go
yesterday.1
:usum lives across the street from me. "he and
"atish had moved in less than a month ago. &hey
said they needed a bigger place. -ll these people, the
"harmas and friends from the 2ndo%(anada "ociety
had been there for the housewarming. "atish and
:usum made homemade tandoori on their big gas
grill and even the white neighbors piled their plates
high with that luridly red, charred, *uicy chicken.
&heir younger daughter had danced, and even our
boys had broken away from the "tanley (up telecast
to put in a reluctant appearance. 5veryone took
pictures for their albums and for the community
newspapers ) another of our families had made it
big in &oronto ) and now 2 wonder how many of
those happy faces are gone, .hy does 9od give us so
much if all along 'e intends to take it away01 :usum
asks me.
2 nod. .e sit on carpeted stairs, holding hands
like children. /2 never once told him that 2 loved
him,1 2 say. 2 was too much the well brought up
woman. 2 was so well brought up 2 never felt
comfortable calling my husband by his first name.
/2t,s all right,1 :usum says. /'e knew. +y
husband knew. &hey felt it. +odern young girls have
to say it because what they feel is fake.1
:usum,s daughter, #am, runs in with an
overnight case. #am,s in her +c3onad,s uniform.
/+ummyL You have to get dressedL1 #anic makes her
cranky. V- reporter,s on his way here.1
/.hy01
1,4
/You want to talk to him in your bathrobe01 "he
starts to brush her mother,s long hair. "he,s the
daughter who,s always in trouble. "he dates
(anadian boys and hangs out in the mall, shopping
for tight sweaters. &he younger one, the goody%
goody one according to #am, the one with a voice so
sweet that when she sang *ha,ans for 5thiopian
relief even a frugal man like my husband wrote out a
hundred dollar check, she was on that plane. "he
was going to spend uly and -ugust with grand%
parents because #am wouldn,t go. #am said she,d
rather waitress at +c3onald,s. /2f it,s a choice
between 7ombay and .onderland, 2,m picking
.onderland,1 she,d said.
/Leave me alone,1 :usum yells. /You know what 2
want to do0 2f 2 didn,t have to look after you now, 2,d
hang myself.1 #am,s young face goes blotchy with
pain. /&hanks,1 she says, /don,t let me stop you.1
/'ush,1 pregnant +rs. "harma scolds #am.
/Leave your mother alone. +r. "harma will tackle
the reporters and fill out the forms. 'e,ll say what
has to be said.1
#am stands her ground. /You think 2 don,t know
what +ummy,s thinking0 Why herH that,s what.
&hat,s sickL +ummy wishes my little sister were
alive and 2 were dead.1
:usum,s hand in mine is trembly hot. .e
continue to sit on the stairs.
"he calls before she arrives, wondering if there,s
anything 2 need. 'er name is udith &empleton and
she,s an appointee of the provincial government.
/+ulticulturalism01 2 ask, and she says, /partially,1
but that her mandate is bigger. /2,ve been told you
knew many of the people on the flight,1 she says.
/#erhaps if you,d agree to help us reach the
others...01
"he gives me time at least to put on tea water and
pick up the mess in the front room. 2 have a few
samosas from :usum,s housewarming that 2 could
fry up, but then 2 think, why prolong this visit0
udith &empleton is much younger than she
sounded. "he wears a blue suit with a white blouse
and a polka dot tie. 'er blond hair is cut short, her
only *ewelry is pearl drop earrings. 'er briefcase is
new and expensive looking, 4L gleaming cordovan
leather. "he sits with it across her lap. .hen she
looks out the front windows onto the street, her
contact lenses seem to float in front of her light blue
eyes.
/.hat sort of help do you want from me01 2 ask.
"he has refused the tea, out of politeness, but 2
insist, along with some slightly stale biscuits. /2 have
no experience,1 she admits. /&hat is, 2 have an +".
and 2,ve worked in liaison with accident victims, but
2 mean 2 have no experience with a tragedy of this
scale)1
/.ho could01 2 ask.
/) and with the complications of culture,
language, and customs. "omeone mentioned that
+rs. 7have is a pillar ) because you,ve taken it more
calmly.1
-t this, perhaps, 2 frown, for she reaches forward,
almost to take my hand. /2 hope you understand my
meaning, +rs. 7have. &here are hundreds of people
in +etro directly affected, like you, and some of
them speak no 5nglish. &here are some widows
who,ve never handled money or gone on a bus, and
there are old parents who still haven,t eaten or gone
outside their bedrooms. "ome houses and
apartments have been looted. "ome wives are still
hysterical. "ome husbands are in shock and
profound depression. .e want to help, but our
hands are tied in so many ways. .e have to
distribute money to some people, and there are legal
documents ) these things can be done. .e have
interpreters, but we don,t always have the human
touch, or maybe the right human touch. .e don,t
want to make mistakes, +rs. 7have, and that,s why
we,d like to ask you to help us.1
/+ore mistakes, you mean,1 2 say.
/#olice matters are not in my hands,1 she
answers.
/Nothing 2 can do will make any difference,1 2
say. /.e must all grieve in our own way. /
/7ut you are coping very well. -ll the people said,
+rs. 7have is the strongest person of all. #erhaps if
the others could see you, talk with you, it wou=d help
them.1
/7y the standards of the people you call
hysterical, 2 am behaving very oddly and very badly,
+iss &empleton.1 2 want to say to her, 7 wish 7 could
scream, starve, wal into $ae Bntario, ,um& from
a *ridge. / &hey would not see me as a model. 2 do
not see myself as a mode=.1
2 am a freak. No one who has ever known me
would think of me reacting this way. &his terrible
calm will not go away.
"he asks me if she may call again, after 2 get back
from a long trip that we all must make. /6f course,1 2
say. /Feel free to call, anytime.1
Four days later, 2 find :usum s!uatting on a rock
overlooking a bay in 2reland. 2t isn,t a big rock, but it
*uts sharply out over water. &his is as close as we,ll
ever get to them. une bree$es balloon out her sari
and unpin her knee%length hair. "he has the
bewildered look of a sea creature whom the tides
have stranded. 2t,s been one hundred hours since
:usum came stumbling and screaming across my
lawn. .aiting around the hospital, we,ve heard
many stories. &he police, the diplomats, they tell us
things thinking that we,re strong, that knowledge is
helpful to the grieving, and maybe it is. "ome, 2
know, prefer ignorance, or their own versions. &he
plane broke into two, they say. Unconsciousness was
instantaneous. No one suffered. +y boys must have
*ust finished their breakfasts. &hey loved eating on
planes, they loved the smallness of plates, knives,
and forks. Last year they saved the airline salt and
pepper shakers. 'alf an hour more and they would
have made it to 'eathrow.
:usum says that we can,t escape our fate. "he
says that all those people ) our husbands, my boys,
her girl with the nightingale voice, all those 'indus,
(hristians, "ikhs, +uslims, #arsis, and atheists on
that plane ) were fated to die together off this
beautiful bay. "he learned this from a swami in
&oronto.
2 have my <alium.
"ix of us /relatives1 ) two widows and four
widowers ) choose to spend the day today by the
waters instead of sitting in a hospital room and
scanning photographs of the dead. &hat,s what they
1,5
call us now4 relatives. 2,ve looked through twenty%
seven photos in two days. &hey,re very kind to us,
the 2rish are very understanding. "ometimes
understanding means freeing a tourist bus for this
trip to the bay, so we can pretend to spy our loved
ones through the glassiness of waves or in sun%
speckled cloud shapes.
2 could die here, too, and be content.
/.hat is that, out there01 "he,s standing and
flapping her hands and for a moment 2 see a head
shape bobbing in the waves. "he,s standing in the
water, 2, on the boulder. &he tide is low, and a round,
black, head%si$ed rock has *ust risen from the waves.
"he returns, her sari end dripping and ruined and
her face is a twisted remnant of hope, the way mine
was a hundred hours ago, still laughing but inwardly
knowing that nothing but the ultimate tragedy could
bring two women together at six o,clock on a "unday
morning. 2 watch her face sag into blankness.
/&hat water felt warm, "haila,1 she says at length.
/You can,t,1 2 say. /.e have to wait for our turn
to come.1
2 haven,t eaten in four days, haven,t brushed my
teeth.
/2 know,1 she says. /2 tell myself 2 have no right to
grieve. &hey are in a better place than we are. +y
swami says 2 should be thrilled for them. +y swami
says depression is a sign of our selfishness.1
+aybe 2,m selfish. "elfishly 2 break away from
:usum and run, sandals slapping against stones, to
the water,s edge. .hat if my boys aren,t lying pinned
under the debris0 .hat if they aren,t stuck a mile
below that innocent blue chop0 .hat if, given the
strong currents....
Now 2,ve ruined my sari, one of my best. :usum
has *oined me, knee%deep in water that feels to me
like a swimming pool. 2 could settle in the water, and
my husband would take my hand and the boys would
slap water in my face *ust to see me scream.
/3o you remember what good swimmers my boys
were, :usum01
/2 saw the medals,1 she says.
6ne of the widowers, 3r. 8anganathan from
+ontreal, walks out to us, carrying his shoes in one
hand. 'e,s an electrical engineer. "omeone at the
hotel mentioned his work is famous around the
world, something about the place where physics and
electricity come together. 'e has lost a huge family,
something indescrif`al-e. /.ith some luck,1 3r.
8anganathan suggests to me, /a good swimmer
could make it safely to some island. 2t is !uite
possible that there may be many, many microscopic
islets scattered around.1
/You,re not *ust saying that01 2 tell 3r.
8anganathan about <inod, my elder son. Last year
he took diving as well.
/2t,s a parent,s duty to hope,1 he says. /2t is
foolish to rule out possibilities that have not been
tested. 2 myself have not surrendered hope. /
:usum is sobbing once again. /3ear lady,1 he
"ays, laying his free hand on her arm, and she calms
down.
/<inod is how old 01 he asks me. 'e,s very
careful, as we all are. 7s, not was.
/Fourteen. Yesterday he was fourteen. 'is father
and uncle were going to take him down to the &a*
and give him a big birthday party. 2 couldn,t go with
them lecause 2 couldn,t get two weeks off from my
stupid *ob in une.1 2 process bills for a travel agent.
une is a big travel month.
3r. 8anganathan whips the pockets of his suit
*acket inside out. "!uashed roses, in darkening
shades of pink, float on the water. 'e tore the roses
off creepers in somebody,s garden. 'e didn,t ask
anyone if he could pluck the roses, but now there,s
been an article abut it in the local papers. .hen you
see an 2ndian person, it says, please give him or her
flowers.
/- strong youth of fourteen,1 he says, /can very
likely pull to safety a younger one.1 +y sons, though
four years apart, were very close. <inod wouldn,t let
+ithun drown. Electrical engineering, 2 think,
foolishly perhaps4 this man knows important secrets
of the universe, things closed to me. 8elief spins me
lightheaded. No wonder my boys, photographs
haven,t turned up in the gallery of photos of the
recovered dead. /"uch pretty roses,1 2 say.
/+y wife loved pink roses. 5very Friday 2 had to
bring a bunch home. 2 used to say, why0 -fter twenty
odd years of marriage you,re still needing proof
positive of my love01 'e has identified his wife and
three of his children. &hen others from +ontreal, the
lucky ones, intact families with no survivors. 'e
chuckles as he wades back to shore. &hen he swings
around to ask me a !uestion. /+rs. 7have, you are
wanting to throw in some roses for your loved ones0
2 have two big ones left.1 7ut 2 have other things to
float4 <inod,s pocket calculator; a half%painted model
7%?H for my +ithun. &hey,d want them on their
island. -nd for my husband0 For him 2 let fall into
the calm, glassy waters a poem 2 wrote in the
hospital yesterday. Finally he,ll know my feelings for
him.
/3on,t tumble, the rocks are slippery,1 3r.
8anganathan tautions. 'e holds out a hand for me
to grab.
&hen it,s time to get back on the bus, time to rush
back to our waiting posts on hospital benches.
:usurn is one of the lucky ones. &he lucky ones
flew here, identified in multiplicate their loved ones,
then will fly to 2ndia with the bodies for proper
ceremonies. "atish is one of the few males who
surfaced. &he photos of faces we saw on the walls in
an office at 'eathrow and here in the hospital are
mostly of women. .omen have more body fat, a nun
said to me matter%of%factly. &hey float better.
/+ay 2 was stopped by a young sailor on the
street. 'e had loaded bodies, he,d gone into the
water when ) he checks my face for signs of strength
) when the sharks were first spotted. 2 don,t blush,
and he breaks down. /2t,s all right,1 2 say. /&hank
you.1 2 had heard about the sharks from 3r.
8anganathan. 2n his orderly mind, science brings
understanding, it holds no terror. 2t is the shark,s
duty. For every deer there is a hunter, for every fish a
fisherman.
&he 2rish are not shy; they rush to me and give
me hugs and some are crying. 2 cannot imagine
reactions like that on the streets of &oronto. ust
strangers, and 2 am touched. "ome carry flowers
with them and give them to any 2ndian they see.
-fter lunch, a policeman 2 have gotten to know
!uite well catches hold of me. 'e says he thinks he
1,6
has a match for <inod. 2 explain what a good
swimmer <inod is.
/You want me with you when you look at
photos01 3r. 8anganathan walks ahead of me into
the picture gallery. 2n these matters, he is a scientist,
and 2 am grateful. 2t is a new perspective. /&hey have
performed miracles,1 he says. /.e are indebted to
them.1
&he first day or two the policemen showed us
relatives only one picture at a time; now they,re in a
hurry, they,re eager to lay out the possibles, and even
the probables.
&he face on the photo is of a boy much like
<inod; the same intelligent eyes, the same thick
brows dipping into a <. 7ut this boy,s features, even
his cheeks, are puffier, wider, mushier.
/No.1 +y ga$e is pulled by other pictures. &here
are five other boys who look like <inod.
&he nun assigned to console me rubs the first
picture with a fingertip. /.hen they,ve been in the
water for a white, love, they look a little heavier. /
&he bones under the skin are broken, they said on
the first day ) try to ad*ust your memories. 2t,s
important.
/2t,s not him. 2,m his mother. 2,d know.1
/2 know this oneL1 3r. 2[i[nga=lattla=l cries out
suddenly from the back of the gallery. /-nd this
oneL1 2 think he senses that 2 don,t want to find my
boys. /&hey are the :utty brothers. &hey were also
from +ontreal. / 2 don,t mean to be crying. 6n the
contrary, 2 am ecstatic. +y suitcase in the hotel is
packed heavy with dry clothes for my boys.
&he policeman starts to cry. /2 am so sorry, 2 am
so sorry, ma,am. = really thought we had a match.1
.ith the nun ahead of us and the policeman behind,
we, the unlucky ones without our children,s bodies,
file out of the makeshift gallery.
From 2reland most of us go on to 2ndia. :usum
and 2 take the same direct f2ight to 7ombay, so 2 can
help her clear customs !uickly. 7ut we have to argue
with a man in uniform. 'e has large boils on his
face. &he boils swell and glow with sweat as we argue
with him. 'e wants :usum to wait in line and he
refuses to take authority because his boss is on a tea
break. 7ut :usum won,t let her coffins out of sight,
and 2 shan,t desert her though 2 know that my
parents, elderly and diabetic, must be waiting in a
stuffy car in a scorching lot.
/You bastardL1 2 scream at the man with the
popping boils. 6ther passengers press closer. /You
think we,re smuggling contraband in those coffinsL1
6nce upon time we were well brought up women;
we were dutiful wives who kept our heads veiled, our
voices shy and sweet.
2n 2ndia, = become, once again, an only child of
rich, ailing parents. 6ld friends of the family come to
pay their respects. "ome are "ikh, and inwardly,
involuntarily, 2 cringe. +y parents are progressive
people; they do not blame communities for a few
individuals.
2n (anada it is a different story now.
/"tay longer,1 my mother pleads. /(anada is a
cold place. .hy would you want to be all by
yourself01 2 stay.
&hree months pass. &hen another.
/<ikram wouldn,t have wanted you to give up
thingsL1 they protest. &hey call my husband by the
name he was born with. 2n &oronto he,d changed to
<ik so the men he worked with at his office would
find his name as easy as 8od or (hris. /You know;
the dead aren,t cut off from usL
+y grandmother, the spoiled daughter of a rich
+amindar, shaved her head with rusty ra$or blades
when she was widowed at sixteen. +y grandfather
died of childhood diabetes when he was nineteen,
and she saw herself as the harbinger of bad luck. +y
mother grew up without parents, raised indifferently
by an uncle, white her true mother slept in a hut
behind the main estate house and took her food with
the servants. "he grew up a rationalist. +y parents
abhor mindless mortification. &he $amindar,s
daughter kept stubborn faith in <edic rituals; my
parents rebelled. 2 am trapped between two modes
of knowledge. -t thirty%six, 2 am too old to start over
and too young to give up. Like my husband,s spirit, 2
flutter between worlds.
(ourting aphasia, we travel. .e travel with our
phalanx of servants and poor relatives. &o hill
stations and to beach resorts. .e play contract
bridge in dusty gymkhana clubs. .e ride stubby
ponies up crumbly mountain trails. -t tea dances, we
let ourselves be twirled twice round the ballroom.
.e hit the holy spots we hadn,t made time for
before. 2n <aranasi, :alighat, 8ishikesh, 'ardwar,
astrologers and palmists seek me out and for a fee
offer me cosmic consolations.
-lready the widowers among us are being shown
new bride candidates. &hey cannot resist the call of
custom, the authority of their parents and older
brothers. &hey must marry; it is the duty of a man to
look after a wife. &he new wives will be young
widows with children, destitute but of good family.
&hey will make loving wives, but the men will shun
them. 2,ve had calls from the men over crackling
2ndian telephone lines. /"ave me,1 they say, these
substantial, educated, successful men of forty. /hCy
parents are arranging a marriage for me.1 2n a
month they will have buried one family and returned
to (anada with a new bride and partial family.
2 am comparatively lucky. No one here thinks of
arranging a husband for an unlucky widow.
&hen, on the third day of the sixth month into
this odyssey, in an abandoned temple in 4= tiny
'imalayan village, as 2 make nip offering of flowers
and sweetmeats to the god of a tribe of animists, my
husband descends to me. 'e is s!uatting next to a
scrawny sadhu in moth%eaten robes. <ikram wears
the vanilla suit he wore the last time 2 hugged him.
&he sadhu tosses petals on a butter%fed flame,
reciting "anskrit mantras and sweeps his face of
flies. +y husband takes my hands in his.
You!re *eautiful, he starts. &hen, What are you
doing hereH
#hall 7 stayH 2 ask. 'e only smiles, but already
the image is fading. You must finish alone what we
started together. Ao seaweed wreathes his mouth.
'e speaks too fast *ust as he used to when we were
an envied family in our pink split%level. 'e is gone.
2n the windowless altar room, smoky with *oss
sticks and clarified butter lamps, a sweaty hand
gropes for my blouse. 2 do not shriek. &he sadhu
arranges his robe. &he lamps hiss and sputter out.
1,7
.hen we come out of the temple, my mother
says, /3id you feel something weird in there01
+y mother has no patience with ghosts,
prophetic dreams, holy men, and cults.
/No,1 2 lie. /Nothing.1
7ut she knows that she,s lost me. "he knows that
in days 2 shall be leaving.
:usum,s put her house up for de. "he wants to
live in an ashram in 'ardwar. +oving to 'ardwar
was her swami,s idea. 'er swami runs two ashrams,
the one in 'ardwar and another here in &oronto.
/3on,t run away,1 2 tell her.
/2,m not running away,V1 she says. /2,m pursuing
inner peace. You think you or that 8anganathan
fellow are better off01 #am,s left for (alifornia. "he
wants to do some modeling, she says. "he says when
she comes into her share of the insurance money
she,ll open a yoga%cum%aerobics studio in
'ollywood. "he sends me postcards so naughty 2
daren,t leave them on the coffee table. 'er mother
has withdrawn from her and the world.
&he rest of us don,t lose touch, that,s the point.
&alk is all we have, says 3r. 8anganathan, who has
also resisted his relatives and returned to +ontreal
and to his *ob, alone. 'e says, whom better to talk
with than other relatives0 .e,ve been melted down
and recast as a new tribe.
'e calls me twice a week from +ontreal. 5very
.ednesday night and every "aturday afternoon. 'e
is changing *obs, going to 6ttawa. 7ut 6ttawa is over
a hundred miles away, and he is forced to drive two
hundred and twenty miles a day. 'e can,t bring
himself to sell his house. &he house is a temple, he
says; the king%si$ed bed in the master bedroom is a
shrine. 'e sleeps on a folding cot. - devotee.
a a a
&here are still some hysterical relatives. udith
&empleton,s list of those needing help and those
who,ve /accepted1 is in nearly perfect balance.
-cceptance means you speak of your family in the
past tense and you make active plans for moving
ahead with your life. &here are courses at "eneca and
8yerson we could be taking. 'er gleaming leather
briefcase is full of college catalogues and lists of
cultural societies that need our help. "he has done
impressive work, 2 tell her.
/2n the textbooks on grief management,1 she
replies ) 2 am her confidante, 2 reali$e, one of the
few whose grief has not sprung bi$arre obsessions )
/there are stages to pass through4 re*ection,
depression, acceptance, reconstruction.1 "he has
compiled a chart and finds that six months after the
tragedy, none of us still re*ect reality, but only a
handful are reconstructing. /3epressed -cceptance1
is the plateau we,ve reached. 8emarriage is a ma*or
step in reconstruction Ithough she,s a little
surprised, even shocked, over how !uickly some of
the men have taken on new familiesJ. "elling one,s
house and changing *obs and cities is healthy.
'ow do 2 tell udith &empleton that my family
surrounds me, and that like creatures in epics,
they,ve changed shapes0 "he sees me as calm and
accepting but worries that 2 have no *ob, no career.
+y closest friends are worse off than 2. 2 cannot tell
her my days, even my nights, are thrilling.
"he asks me to help with families she can,t reach
at all. -n elderly couple in -gincourt whose sons
were killed *ust weeks after they had brought their
parents over from a village in #un*ab. From their
names, 2 know they are "ikh. udith &empleton and
a translator have visited them twice with offers of
money for air fare to 2reland, with bank forms,
power%of% attorney forms, but they have refused to
sign, or to leave their tiny apartment. &heir sons,
money is fro$en in the bank. &heir sons, investment
apartments have been trashed by tenants, the
furnishings sold off. &he parents fear that anything
they sign or any money they receive will end the
company,s or the country,s obligations to them. &hey
fear they are selling their sons for two airline tickets
to a place they,ve never seen.
&he high%rise apartment is a tower of 2ndians and
.est 2ndians, with a sprinkling of 6rientals. &he
nearest bus stop kiosk is lined with women in saris.
7oys practice cricket in the parking lot. 2nside the
building, even 2 wince a bit from the ferocity of
onion fumes, the distinctive and immediate
lndianness of frying ghee, but udith &empleton
maintains a steady flow of information. &hese poor
old people are in imminent danger of losing their
place and all their services.
2 say to her, /&hey are "ikh. &hey will not open up
to a 'indu woman.1 -nd what 2 want to add is, as
much as 2 try not to, 2 stiffen now at the sight of
beards and turbans. 2 remember a time when we all
trusted each other in this new country, it was only
the new country we worried about.
&he two rooms are dark and stuffy. &he lights are
off, and an oil lamp sputters on the coffee table. &he
bent old lady has let us in, and her husband is
wrapping a white turban over his oiled, hip%length
hair. "he immediately goes to the kitchen, and 2 hear
the most familiar sound of an 2ndian home, tap
water hitting and filling a teapot.
&hey have not paid their utility bills, out of fear
and the inability to write a check. &he telephone is
gone; electricity and gas and water are soon to
follow. &hey have told udith their sons will provide.
&hey are good boys, and they have always earned
and looked after their parents.
.e converse a bit in 'indi. &hey do not ask about
the crash and 2 wonder if 2 should bring it up. 2f they
think 2 am here merely as a translator, then they may
feel insulted. &here are thousands of #un*abi%
speakers, "ikhs, in &oronto to do a better *ob. -nd so
2 say to the old lady, /2 too have lost my sons, and my
husband, in the crash.1
'er eyes immediately fill with tears. &he man
mutters a few words which sound like a blessing.
/9od provides and 9od takes away,1 he says.
2 want to say, but only men destroy and give back
nothing. /+y boys and my husband are not coming
back,1 2 say. /.e have to understand that. /
Now the old woman responds. /7ut who is to say0
+an alone does not decide these things. / &o this her
husband adds his agreement.
udith asks about the bank papers, the release
forms. .ith a stroke of the pen, they will have a
provincial trustee to pay their bills, invest their
money, send them a monthly pension.
/3o you know this wotnan01 2 ask them.
1,*
&he man raises his hand from the table, turns it
over and seems to regard each finger separately
before he answers. /&his young lady is always
coming here, we make tea for her and she leaves
papers for us to sign. / 'is eyes scan a pile of papers
in the corner of the room. /"oon we will be out of
tea, then will she go away01
&he old lady adds, /2 have asked my neighbors
and no one else gets angre+i visitors. .hat have we
done01
/2t,s her *ob,1 2 try to explain. /&he government is
worried. "oon you will have no place to stay, no
lights, no gas, no water.1
/9overnment will get its money. &ell her not to
worry, we are honorable people.1
2 try to explain the government wishes to give
money, not take. 'e raises his hand. /Let them
take,1 he says. /.e are accustomed to that. &hat is
no problem.1
/.e are strong people,1 says the wife. /&ell her
that.1
/.ho needs all this machinery01 demands the
husband. /2t is unhealthy, the bright tights, the cold
air on a hot day, the cold food, the four gas rings.
9od will provide, not government.1
/.hen our boys return,1 the mother says. 'er
husband sucks his teeth. /5nough talk,1 he says.
udith breaks in. /'ave you convinced them01
&he snaps on her cordovan briefcase go off like
firecrackers in that !uiet apartment. "he lays the
sheaf of legal papers on the coffee table. /2f they
can,t write their names, an O will do ) 2,ve told them
that.1
Now the old lady has shuffled to the kitchen and
soon emerges with a pot of tea and two cups. /2 think
my +adder will go first on a *otJ like this,1 udith
says to me, smiling. /2f only there was some way of
reaching them. #lease thank her for the tea. &ell her
she,s very kind.1
2 nod in udith,s direction and tell them in 'indi,
/"he thanks you for the tea. "he thinks you are being
very hospitable but she doesn,t have the slightest
idea what it meas.1
2 want to say, humor her. 2 want to say, my boys
and my husband are with me too, more than ever. 2
look in the old man,s eyes and 2 can read his
stubborn, peasant,s message4 7 have &rotected this
woman as *est 7 can. #he is the only &erson 7 have
left 2ive to me or tae from me what you will, *ut l
will not sign for it. 7 will not &retend that 7 acce&t.
2n the car udith says, /You see what 2,m up
against0 2,m sure they,re lovely people, but their
stubbornness and ignorance are driving me cra$y.
&hey think signing a paper is signing their sons,
death warrants, don,t they01
2 am looking out the window. 2 want to say, in
our culture, it is a &arent!s duty to ho&e.
/Now, "haila, this next woman is a real mess. "he
cries day and night, and she refuses all medical help.
.e may have to )1
/) Let me out at the subway,1 2 say.
/2 beg your pardon01 2 can feet those tJluc eyes
staring at me.
2t would not be like her to disobey. "he merely
disapproves, and stows at a corner to let me out. 'er
voice is plaintive. /2s there anything 2 said0 -nything
2 did01
2 could answer her suddenly in a do$en ways, but
2 choose not to. /"haila0 Let,s talk about it,1 2 hear,
then slam the door.
- wife and mother begins her new life in a new
country, and that life is cut short. Yet her husband
tells her4 (omplete what we have started. .e, who
stayed out of politics and came halfway around the
world to avoid religious and political feuding have
been the first in the New .orld to die from it. 2 no
longer know what we started, nor how to complete it.
2 write letters to the editors of local papers and to
members of #arliament. Now at least they admit it
was a bomb. 6ne +# answers back, with sympathy,
but with a challenge. You want to make a difference0
.ork on a campaign. .ork on mine. #olitici$e the
2ndian voter.
+y husband,s old lawyer helps me set up a trust.
<ikram was a saver and a careful investor. 'e had
saved the boys, boarding school and college fees. 2
sell the pink house at four times what we paid for it
and take a small apartment downtown. 2 am looking
for a charity to support.
.e are deep in the &oronto winter, gray skies, icy
pavements. 2 stay indoors, watching television. 2
have tried to assess my situation, how best to live my
life, to complete what we began so many years ago.
:usum has written me from 'ardwar that her life is
now serene. "he has seen "atish and has heard her
daughter sing again. :usum was on a pilgrimage,
passing through a village when she heard a young
girl,s voice, singing one of her daughter,s favorite
*ha,ans. "he followed the music through the s!ualor
of a 'imalayan village, to a hut where a young girl,
an exact replica of her daughter, was fanning coals
under the kitchen fire. .hen she appeared, the girl
cried out, /+aL1 and ran away. .hat did 2 think of
that0
2 think 2 can only envy her.
#am didn,t make it to (alifornia, but writes me
from <ancouver. "he works in a department store,
giving make%up hints to 2ndian and 6riental girls.
3r. 8anganathan has given up his commute, given
up his house and *ob, and accepted an academic
position in &exas where no one knows his story and
he has vowed not to tell it. 'e calls me now once a
week.
2 wait, 2 listen, and 2 pray, but <ikram has not
returned to me. &he voices and the shapes and the
nights filled with visions ended abruptly several
weeks ago.
2 take it as a sign.
6ne rare, beautiful, sunny day last week,
returning from a small errand on Yonge "treet, 2 was
walking through the park from the subway to my
apartment. 2 live e!uidistant from the 6ntario
'ouses of #arliament and the university of &oronto.
&he day was not cold, but something in the bare
trees caught my attention. 2 looked up from the
gravel, into the branches and the clear blue sky
beyond. 2 thought 2 heard the rustling of larger
forms, and 2 waited a moment for voices. Nothing.
/.hat01 2 asked.
&hen as 2 stood in the path looking north to
Wueen,s #ark and west to the university, 2 heard the
voices of my family one last time. Your time has
come, they said. 2o, *e *rave.
1,+
2 do not know where this voyage 2 have begun will
end. 2 do not know which direction 2 will take. 2
dropped the package on a park bench and started
walking.
T#o #ays
to
$elong
in /merica
26.- (2&Y ) &his is a tale of two sisters from
(alcutta, +ira and 7harati, who have lived in the
United "tates for some K? years, but who find
themselves on different sides in the current debate
over the status of immigrants.
2 am an -merican citi$en and she is not. 2 am moved
that thousands of long%term residents are finally
taking the oath of citi$enship. "he is not.
+ira arrived in 3etroit in =>ED to study child
psychology and pre%school education. 2 followed her
a year later to study creative writing at the
University of 2owa. .hen we left 2ndia, we were
almost identical in appearance and attitude. .e
dressed alike, in saris; we expressed identical views
on politics, social issues, love and marriage in the
same (alcutta convent%school accent. .e would
endure our two years in -merica, secure our degrees,
then return to 2ndia to marry the grooms of our
father,s choosing.
2nstead, +ira married an 2ndian student in =>EH
who was getting his business administration degree
at .ayne "tate University. &hey soon ac!uired the
labor certifications necessary for the green card of
hassle%free residence and employment.
+ira still lives in 3etroit, works in the "outhfield,
+ich., school system, and has become nationally
recogni$ed for her contributions in the fields of pre%
school education and parent%teacher relationships.
-fter KE years as a legal immigrant in this country,
she clings passionately to her 2ndian citi$enship and
hopes to go home to 2ndia when she retires.
2n 2owa (ity in =>EK, 2 married a fellow student, an
-merican of (anadian parentage. 7ecause of the
accident of his North 3akota birth, 2 bypassed labor%
certification re!uirements and the race%related
/!uota1 system that favored the applicant,s country
of origin over his or her merit. 2 was prepared for
Iand even welcomedJ the emotional strain that came
with marrying outside my ethnic community. 2n KK
years of marriage, we have lived in every part of
North -merica. 7y choosing a husband who was not
my father,s selection, 2 was opting for fluidity, self%
invention, blue *eans and &%shirts, and renouncing
K,DDD years Iat leastJ of caste%observant, /pure
culture1 marriage in the +ukher*ee family. +y books
have often been read as unapologetic Iand in some
!uarters overenthusiasticJ texts for cultural and
psychological /mongreli$ation.1 2t,s a word 2
celebrate.
+ira and 2 have stayed sisterly close by phone. 2n
our regular "unday morning conversations, we are
unguardedly affectionate. 2 am her only blood
relative on this continent. .e expect to see each
other through the looming crises of aging and ill
health without being asked. Long before <ice
#resident 9ore,s /(iti$enship U.".-.1 drive, we,d had
our polite arguments over the ethics of retaining an
overseas citi$enship while expecting the permanent
protection and economic benefits that come with
living and working in -merica.
Like well%raised sisters, we never said what was
really on our minds, but we probably pitied one
another. "he, for the lack of structure in my life, the
erasure of 2ndianness, the absence of an unvarying
daily core. 2, for the narrowness of her perspective,
her uninvolvement with the mythic depths or the
superficial pop culture of this society. 7ut, now, with
the scapegoating of /aliens1 Idocumented or illegalJ
on the increase, and the targeting of long%term legal
immigrants like +ira for new scrutiny and new self%
consciousness, she and 2 find ourselves unable to
maintain the same polite discretion. .e were always
unacknowledged adversaries, and we are now, more
than ever, sisters.
/2 feel used,1 +ira raged on the phone the other
night. /2 feel manipulated and discarded. &his is
such an unfair way to treat a person who was invited
to stay and work here because of her talent. +y
employer went to the 2.N.". and petitioned for the
labor certification. For over KD years, 2,ve invested
my creativity and professional skills into the
improvement of this country,s pre%school system.
2,ve obeyed all the rules, 2,ve paid my taxes, 2 love my
work, 2 love my students, 2 love the friends 2,ve
made. 'ow dare -merica now change its rules in
midstream0 2f -merica wants to make new rules
curtailing benefits of legal immigrants, they should
apply only to immigrants who arrive after those rules
are already in place.1 &o my ears, it sounded like the
description of a long%enduring, comfortable yet
loveless marriage, without risk or recklessness. 'ave
we the right to demand, and to expect, that we be
loved0 I&hat, to me, is the subtext of the arguments
by immigration advocates.J +y sister is an
expatriate, professionally generous and creative,
socially courteous and gracious, and that,s as far as
her -mericani$ation can go. "he is here to maintain
an identity, not to transform it.
11,
2 asked her if she would follow the example of others
who have decided to become citi$ens because of the
anti%immigration bills in (ongress. -nd here, she
surprised me. /2f -merica wants to play the
manipulative game, 2,ll play it too,1 she snapped. /2,ll
become a U.". citi$en for now, then change back to
2ndian when 2,m ready to go home. 2 feel some kind
of irrational attachment to 2ndia that 2 don,t to
-merica. Until all this hysteria against legal
immigrants, 2 was totally happy. 'aving my green
card meant 2 could visit any place in the world 2
wanted to and then come back to a *ob that,s
satisfying and that 2 do very well.1
2n one family, from two sisters alike as peas in a pod,
there could not be a wider divergence of immigrant
experience. -merica spoke to me G 2 married it G 2
embraced the demotion from expatriate aristocrat to
immigrant nobody, surrendering those thousands of
years of /pure culture,1 the saris, the delightfully
accented 5nglish. "he retained them all. .hich of us
is the freak0
+ira,s voice, 2 reali$e, is the voice not *ust of the
immigrant "outh -sian community but of an
immigrant community of the millions who have
stayed rooted in one *ob, one city, one house, one
ancestral culture, one cuisine, for the entirety of
their productive years. "he speaks for greater
numbers than 2 possibly can. 6nly the fluency of her
5nglish and the anger, rather than fear, born of
confidence from her education, differentiate her
from the seamstresses, the domestics, the
technicians, the shop owners, the millions of hard%
working but effectively silenced documented
immigrants as well as their less fortunate /illegal1
brothers and sisters.
Nearly HD years ago, when 2 was living in my
husband,s ancestral homeland of (anada, 2 was
always well%employed but never allowed to feel part
of the local Wuebec or larger (anadian society. &hen,
through a 9reen #aper that invited a national
referendum on the unwanted side effects of
/nontraditional1 immigration, the 9overnment
officially turned against its immigrant communities,
particularly those from "outh -sia.
2 felt then the same sense of betrayal that +ira feels
now.
2 will never forget the pain of that sudden turning,
and the casual racist outbursts the 9reen #aper
elicited. &hat sense of betrayal had its desired effect
and drove me, and thousands like me, from the
country.
+ira and 2 differ, however, in the ways in which we
hope to interact with the country that we have
chosen to live in. "he is happier to live in -merica as
expatriate 2ndian than as an immigrant -merican. 2
need to feel like a part of the community 2 have
adopted Ias 2 tried to feel in (anada as wellJ. 2 need
to put roots down, to vote and make the difference
that 2 can. &he price that the immigrant willingly
pays, and that the exile avoids, is the trauma of self%
transformation.
I"eptember HH, =>>E4 Aew Yor TimesJ
/merican
7reamer
C & M M . 1 T / R : -
2 am an -merican, not an
-sian%-merican. +y
re*ection of hyphenation
has been called race treachery, but it is really a
demand that -merica deliver the promises of its
dream to all its citi$ens e!ually.
By Bharati Mukherjee
In Mother Jones magazine, Jan./Feb. 1997
&he United "tates exists as a sovereign nation.
/-merica,1 in contrast, exists as a myth of democracy
and e!ual opportunity to live by, or as an ideal goal
to reach.
2 am a naturali$ed U.". citi$en, which means that,
unlike native%born citi$ens, 2 had to prove to the U.".
government that 2 merited citi$enship. .hat 2 didn,t
have to disclose was that 2 desired /-merica,1 which
to me is the stage for the drama of self%
transformation.
2 was born in (alcutta and first came to the
United "tates G to 2owa (ity, to be precise G on a
summer evening in =>E=. 2 flew into a small airport
surrounded by cornfields and pastures, ready to
carry out the two commands my father had written
out for me the night before 2 left (alcutta4 "pend two
years studying creative writing at the 2owa .riters,
.orkshop, then come back home and marry the
bridegroom he selected for me from our caste and
class.
2n traditional 'indu families like ours, men
provided and women were provided for. +y father
was a patriarch and 2 a pliant daughter. &he
neighborhood 2,d grown up in was homogeneously
'indu, 7engali%speaking, and middle%class. 2 didn,t
expect myself to ever disobey or disappoint my
father by setting my own goals and taking charge of
my future.
.hen 2 landed in 2owa K? years ago, 2 found
myself in a society in which almost everyone was
(hristian, white, and moderately well%off. 2n the
women,s dormitory 2 lived in my first year, apart
from six international graduate students Iall of us
were from -sia and considered /exotic1J, the only
non%(hristian was ewish, and the only nonwhite an
-frican%-merican from 9eorgia. 2 didn,t anticipate
then, that over the next K? years, the 2owa
population would become so diverse that it would
have E,>K= children from non%5nglish%speaking
111
homes registered as students in its schools, nor that
2owans would be in the grip of a cultural crisis in
which resentment against immigrants, particularly
refugees from <ietnam, "udan, and 7osnia, as well
as unskilled "panish%speaking workers, would
become politici$ed enough to cause the 2mmigration
and Naturali$ation "ervice to open an /enforcement1
office in (edar 8apids in 6ctober for the tracking
and deporting of undocumented aliens.
2n (alcutta in the T?Ds, 2 heard no talk of /identity
crisis1 G communal or individual. &he concept itself
G of a person not knowing who he or she is G was
unimaginable in our hierarchical, classification%
obsessed society. 6ne,s identity was fixed, derived
from religion, caste, patrimony, and mother tongue.
- 'indu 2ndian,s last name announced his or her
forefathers, caste and place of origin. - +ukher*ee
could only be a 7rahmin from 7engal. 'indu
tradition forbade intercaste, interlanguage,
interethnic marriages. 7engali tradition even
discouraged emigration4 &o remove oneself from
7engal was to dilute true culture.
Until the age of @, 2 lived in a house crowded with
CD or ?D relatives. +y identity was viscerally
connected with ancestral soil and genealogy. 2 was
who 2 was because 2 was 3r. "udhir Lal +ukher*ee,s
daughter, because 2 was a 'indu 7rahmin, because 2
was 7engali%speaking, and because my desh G the
7engali word for homeland G was an 5ast 7engal
village called Faridpur.
&he University of 2owa classroom was my first
experience of coeducation. -nd after not too long, 2
fell in love with a fellow student named (lark 7laise,
an -merican of (anadian origin, and impulsively
married him during a lunch break in a lawyer,s office
above a coffee shop.
&hat act cut me off forever from the rules and
ways of upper%middle%class life in 7engal, and
hurled me into a New .orld life of scary
improvisations and heady explorations. Until my
lunch%break wedding, 2 had seen myself as an 2ndian
foreign student who intended to return to 2ndia to
live. &he five%minute ceremony in the lawyer,s office
suddenly changed me into a transient with
conflicting loyalties to two very different cultures.
&he first =D years into marriage, years spent
mostly in my husband,s native (anada, 2 thought of
myself as an expatriate 7engali permanently
stranded in North -merica because of destiny or
desire. +y first novel, The Tiger!s 3aughter,
embodies the loneliness 2 felt but could not
acknowledge, even to myself, as 2 negotiated the no
man,s land between the country of my past and the
continent of my present. "haped by memory,
textured with nostalgia for a class and culture 2 had
abandoned, this novel !uite naturally became an
expression of the expatriate consciousness.
2t took me a decade of painful introspection to
put nostalgia in perspective and to make the
transition from expatriate to immigrant. -fter a =C%
year stay in (anada, 2 forced my husband and our
two sons to relocate to the United "tates. 7ut the
transition from foreign student to U.". citi$en, from
detached onlooker to committed immigrant, has not
been easy.
&he years in (anada were particularly harsh.
(anada is a country that officially, and proudly,
resists cultural fusion. For all its rhetoric about a
cultural /mosaic,1 (anada refuses to renovate its
national self%image to include its changing
complexion. 2t is a New .orld country with 6ld
.orld concepts of a fixed, exclusivist national
identity. (anadian official rhetoric designated me as
one of the /visible minority1 who, even though 2
spoke the (anadian languages of 5nglish and
French, was straining /the absorptive capacity1 of
(anada. (anadians of color were routinely treated as
/not real1 (anadians. 6ne example4 2n =>@? a
terrorist bomb, planted in an -ir%2ndia *et on
(anadian soil, blew up after leaving +ontreal, killing
KH> passengers, most of whom were (anadians of
2ndian origin. &he prime minister of (anada at the
time, 7rian +ulroney, phoned the prime minister of
2ndia to offer (anada,s condolences for 2ndia,s loss.
&hose years of race%related harassments in
(anada politici$ed me and deepened my love of the
ideals embedded in the -merican 7ill of 8ights. 2
don,t forget that the architects of the (onstitution
and the 7ill of 8ights were white males and
slaveholders. 7ut through their declaration, they
provided us with the enthusiasm for human rights,
and the initial framework from which other
empowerments could be conceived and enfranchised
communities expanded.
2 am a naturali$ed U.". citi$en and 2 take my
-merican citi$enship very seriously. 2 am not an
economic refugee, nor am 2 a seeker of political
asylum. 2 am a voluntary immigrant. 2 became a
citi$en by choice, not by simple accident of birth.
Yet these days, !uestions such as who is an
-merican and what is -merican culture are being
posed with belligerence, and being answered with
violence. "capegoating of immigrants has once again
become the politicians, easy remedy for all that ails
the nation. 'ate speeches fill auditoriums for
demagogues willing to profit from stirring up racial
animosity. -n -pril 9allup poll indicated that half of
-mericans would like to bar almost all legal
immigration for the next five years.
&he United "tates, like every sovereign nation,
has a right to formulate its immigration policies. 7ut
in this decade of continual, large%scale diasporas, it
is imperative that we come to some agreement about
who /we1 are, and what our goals are for the nation,
now that our community includes people of many
races, ethnicities, languages, and religions.
&he debate about -merican culture and
-merican identity has to date been monopoli$ed
largely by 5urocentrists and ethnocentrists whose
rhetoric has been flamboyantly divisive, pitting a
phantom /us1 against a demoni$ed /them.1
-ll countries view themselves by their ideals.
2ndians ideali$e the cultural continuum, the inherent
value system of 2ndia, and are properly incensed
when foreigners see nothing but poverty,
intolerance, strife, and in*ustice. -mericans see
themselves as the embodiments of liberty, openness,
and individualism, even as the world *udges them for
drugs, crime, violence, bigotry, militarism, and
homelessness. 2 was in "ingapore in =>>C when the
-merican teenager +ichael Fay was sentenced to
caning for having spraypainted some cars. .hile 2
112
saw Fay,s actions as those of an individual, and his
sentence as too harsh, the overwhelming local
sentiment was that vandalism was an /-merican1
crime, and that flogging Fay would deter "ingapore
youths from becoming /-mericani$ed.1
(onversely, in =>>C, in &avares, Florida, the Lake
(ounty "chool 7oard announced its policy Isince
overturnedJ re!uiring middle school teachers to
instruct their students that -merican culture, by
which the board meant 5uropean%-merican culture,
is inherently /superior to other foreign or historic
cultures.1 &he policy,s misguided implication was
that culture in the United "tates has not been
affected by the -merican 2ndian, -frican%-merican,
Latin%-merican, and -sian%-merican segments of
the population. &he sinister implication was that our
national identity is so fragile that it can absorb
diverse and immigrant cultures only by
recontextuali$ing them as deficient.
6ur nation is uni!ue in human history in that the
founding idea of /-merica1 was in opposition to the
tenet that a nation is a collection of like%looking,
like%speaking, like%worshiping people. &he primary
criterion for nationhood in 5urope is homogeneity of
culture, race, and religion G which has contributed
to blood%soaked balkani$ation in the former
Yugoslavia and the former "oviet Union.
-merica,s pioneering 5uropean ancestors gave
up the easy homogeneity of their native countries for
a new version of utopia. Now, in the =>>Ds, we have
the exciting chance to follow that tradition and assist
in the making of a new -merican culture that differs
from both the enforced assimilation of a /melting
pot1 and the (anadian model of a multicultural
/mosaic.1
&he multicultural mosaic implies a contiguity of
fixed, self%sufficient, utterly distinct cultures.
+ulticulturalism, as it has been practiced in the
United "tates in the past =D years, implies the
existence of a central culture, ringed by peripheral
cultures. &he fallout of official multiculturalism is
the establishment of one culture as the norm and the
rest as aberrations. -t the same time, the
multiculturalist emphasis on race% and ethnicity%
based group identity leads to a lack of respect for
individual differences within each group, and to
vilification of those individuals who place the good
of the nation above the interests of their particular
racial or ethnic communities.
.e must be alert to the dangers of an /us1 vs.
/them1 mentality. 2n (alifornia, this mentality is
manifesting itself as increased violence between
minority, ethnic communities. &he attack on
:orean%-merican merchants in "outh (entral Los
-ngeles in the wake of the 8odney :ing beating trial
is only one recent example of the tragic side effects
of this mentality. 6n the national level, the
politici$ation of ethnic identities has encouraged the
scapegoating of legal immigrants, who are blamed
for economic and social problems brought about by
flawed domestic and foreign policies.
.e need to discourage the retention of cultural
memory if the aim of that retention is cultural
balkani$ation. .e must think of -merican culture
and nationhood as a constantly re%forming,
transmogrifying /we.1
2n this age of diasporas, one,s biological identity
may not be one,s only identity. 5rosions and
accretions come with the act of emigration. &he
experience of cutting myself off from a biological
homeland and settling in an adopted homeland that
is not always welcoming to its dark%complexioned
citi$ens has tested me as a person, and made me the
writer 2 am today.
2 choose to describe myself on my own terms, as
an -merican, rather than as an -sian%-merican.
.hy is it that hyphenation is imposed only on
nonwhite -mericans0 8e*ecting hyphenation is my
refusal to categori$e the cultural landscape into a
center and its peripheries; it is to demand that the
-merican nation deliver the promises of its dream
and its (onstitution to all its citi$ens e!ually.
+y re*ection of hyphenation has been
misrepresented as race treachery by some 2ndia%
born academics on U.". campuses who have
appointed themselves guardians of the /purity1 of
ethnic cultures. +any of them, though they reside
permanently in the United "tates and participate in
its economy, consistently denounce -merican ideals
and institutions. &hey direct their rage at me
because, by becoming a U.". citi$en and exercising
my voting rights, 2 have invested in the present and
not the past; because 2 have committed myself to
help shape the future of my adopted homeland; and
because 2 celebrate racial and cultural
mongreli$ation.
.hat excites me is that as a nation we have not
only the chance to retain those values we treasure
from our original cultures but also the chance to
acknowledge that the outer forms of those values are
likely to change. -mong 2ndian immigrants, 2 see a
great deal of guilt about the inability to hang on to
what they commonly term /pure culture.1 #arents
express rage or despair at their U.".%born children,s
forgetting of, or indifference to, some aspects of
2ndian culture. 6f those parents 2 would ask4 .hat is
it we have lost if our children are acculturating into
the culture in which we are living0 2s it so terrible
that our children are discovering or are inventing
homelands for themselves0
"ome first%generation 2ndo%-mericans,
embittered by racism and by unofficial /glass
ceilings,1 construct a phantom identity, more%
2ndian%than%2ndians%in%2ndia, as a defense against
marginali$ation. 2 ask4 .hy don,t you get actively
involved in fighting discrimination0 +ake your voice
heard. (hoose the forum most appropriate for you. 2f
you are a citi$en, let your vote count. 8einvest your
energy and resources into revitali$ing your city,s
disadvantaged residents and neighborhoods. :now
your constitutional rights, and when they are
violated, use the agencies of redress the (onstitution
makes available to you. 5xpect change, and when it
comes, deal with itL
-s a writer, my literary agenda begins by
acknowledging that -merica has transformed me. 2t
does not end until 2 show that 2 Ialong with the
hundreds of thousands of immigrants like meJ am
minute by minute transforming -merica. &he
transformation is a two%way process4 2t affects both
the individual and the national%cultural identity.
6thers who write stories of migration often talk
of arrival at a new place as a loss, the loss of
113
communal memory and the erosion of an original
culture. 2 want to talk of arrival as gain.
Bharati Muher,ee!s *oos include &he +iddleman
and 6ther "tories (which won the Aational Boo
-ritics! -ircle "ward in 9=KK), asmine, and &he
'older of the .orld. This essay is ada&ted from
8ace4 -n -nthology in the First #erson, edited *y
Bart #chneider (Aew Yor' -larson Potter, 9==E).
Muher,ee and her hus*and, -lar Blaise, wrote
a*out #alman Rushdie!s travails for +other ones
shortly after he was forced into hiding in 9=K=.
Biography
7orn in (alcutta, 2ndia, on uly HF, =>CD, into an
upper middle%class 'indu 7rahmin family
surrounded by servants and bodyguards4 2ndian%
-merican novelist 7harati +ukher*ee. &he second
of three daughters of "udhir Lal, a chemist, and 7ina
I7aner*eeJ +ukher*ee, she lived with nearly ?D
relatives until the age of eight, when she discovered
the beauty and power of 8ussian novelists such as
&olstoy and 3ostoevsky. From an extraordinarily
close%knit and intelligent family, +ukher*ee and her
sisters were always given ample academic
opportunities and have all pursued academic
endeavors in their careers. 2n =>CF, +ukher*ee,s
father accepted a *ob in 5ngland, and he brought his
family to live there until =>?=, providing +ukher*ee
an opportunity to develop her 5nglish language
skills.
6ne night, as her father entertained a group of
-merican scholars over dinner, he asked, /2 want
MmyN daughter to be a writer, where do 2 send her01
&hey told him to send her to the 2owa .riter,s
.orkshop at the University of 2owa. "o, after being
graduated with a 7.- from the University of (alcutta
and an +.-. in 5nglish and -ncient 2ndian (ulture
from the University of 7aroda in =>E=, she came to
the United "tates of -merica, where she took
advantage of a scholarship from the University of
2owa. "he planned to study there to earn her
+aster,s of Fine -rts before returning to 2ndia to
marry a bridegroom of her father,s choosing in her
class and caste. "he earned her +.F.-. in (reative
.riting in =>EK and her #h.3. in 5nglish and
(omparative Literature in =>E>.
.hile attending the university, she met a (anadian
student from 'arvard. "he impulsively married
(lark 7laise, a (anadian writer, in a lawyer,s office
above a coffee shop after only two weeks of
courtship. "he received her +.F.-. that same year,
and then she went on to earn her #h.3. in 5nglish
and comparative literature from the University of
2owa in =>E>.
+ukher*ee emigrated to (anada with her husband
and became a naturali$ed citi$en in =>FH. 'er =C
years there were some of the most trying of her life,
as she found herself discriminated against and
treated, as she says, as a member of the /visible
minority.1 "he has spoken in many interviews of her
difficult life in (anada, a country that she sees as
hostile to its immigrants and one that opposes the
concept of cultural assimilation. -lthough those
years were challenging, +ukher*ee was able to write
her first two novels, The Tiger!s 3aughter I=>F=J and
Wife I=>F?J while working up to professorial status
at +c9ill University in +ontreal. 3uring those
years, she also collected many of the sentiments
found in her first collection of short stories,
3arness I=>@?J, a collection that in many stories
reflects her mood of cultural separation while living
in (anada.
&ired of her struggle to fit into (anadian life,
+ukher*ee and her family moved to the United
"tates in =>@D, where she was sworn in as a
permanent U.". resident. 2n =>@E, she was awarded
a National 5ndowment for the -rts grant. -fter
holding several posts at various colleges and
universities, she eventually settled in =>@> at the
University of (alifornia%7erkeley. 7ecause of the
distinctly different experiences she has had
throughout life, she has been described as a writer
who has lived through several phases of life. First, as
a colonial, then as a National sub*ect in 2ndia. "he
then led a life of exile as a post%colonial 2ndian in
(anada. Finally, she shifted into a celebratory mode
as an immigrant, then citi$en, in the United "tates.
"he now fuses her several lives and backgrounds
together with the intention of creating /new
immigrant1 literature.
:nown for her playful and well developed language,
+ukher*ee re*ects the concept of minimalism, which,
she says, /is designed to keep anyone out with too
much story to tell.1 2nstead, she considers her work
a celebration of her emotions and herself a writer of
the 2ndian diaspora who cherishes the /melting pot1
114
of -merica. 'er main theme throughout her writing
discusses the condition of -sian immigrants in
North -merica, with particular attention to the
changes taking place in "outh -sian women in a new
world.
.hile the characters in all her works are aware of
the brutalities and violence that surround them and
are often victimi$ed by various forms of social
oppression, she generally draws them as survivors.
+ukher*ee has been praised for her understated
prose style and her ironic plot developments and
witty observations. -s a writer, she has a sly eye
with which to view the world, and her characters
share that !uality. -lthough she is often racially
categori$ed by her thematic focus and cultural
origin, she has often said that she strongly opposes
the use of hyphenation when discussing her origin,
in order to /avoid otheri$ation1 and the /self%
imposed marginali$ation that comes with
hyphenation.1 8ather, she prefers to refer to herself
as an -merican of 7engali%2ndian origin.
+ost recently, +ukher*ee is the author of The
4older of the World I=>>KJ and 3esira*le
3aughters IHDDHJ.
Major Themes
+ukher*ee,s works focus on the /phenomenon of
migration, the status of new immigrants, and the
feeling of alienation often experienced by
expatriates1 as well as on 2ndian women and their
struggle I-lam FJ. 'er own struggle with identity
first as an exile from 2ndia, then an 2ndian expatriate
in (anada, and finally as a immigrant in the United
"tates has lead to her current contentment of being
an immigrant in a country of immigrants I-lam =DJ.
+ukher*ee,s works correspond with biographer
Fakrul -lam,s catagori$ation of +ukher*ee,s life into
three phases. 'er earlier works, such as the The
Tiger!s 3aughter and parts of 3ays and Aights in
-alcutta, are her attempts to find her identity in her
2ndian heritage.
/&he &iger,s 3aughter1 is a story about a young girl
named &ara who ventures back to 2ndia after many
years of being away only to return to poverty and
turmoil. &his story parallels +ukher*ee,s own
venture back to 2ndia with (lark 7laise in =>FK when
she was deeply affected by the chaos and poverty of
2ndian and mistreatment of women in the name of
tradition, /.hat is unforgivable is the lives that have
been sacrificed to notions of propriety and
obedience1 I3ays and Aights... H=FJ. 'er husband,
however, became very intrigued by the magic of the
myth and culture that surrounded every part of
7engal.; &hese differences of opinion, her shock and
his awe, are seen in one of their *oint publications,
3ays and Aights in -alcutta.
&he second phase of her writing, according to -lam,
encompasses works such as Wife, the short stories in
3arness, an essay entitled /-n 2nvisible .oman,1
and The #orrow and the Terror, a *oint effort with
her husband. &hese works originate in +ukher*ee,s
own experience of racism in (anada, where despite
being a tenured professor, she felt humiliated and on
the edge of being a /housebound, fearful, affrieved,
obsessive, and unforgiving !ueen of bitterness1
I+ukher*ee, !td. in -lam =DJ.
-fter moving back to the United "tates, she wrote
about her personal experiences. 6ne of her short
stories entitled /2solated 2ncidents1 explores the
biased (anadian view towards immigrants that she
encountered, as well as how government agencies
handled assults on particular races. -nother short
story titled /&he &enant1 continues to reflect on her
focus on immigrant 2ndian women and their
mistreatment. &he story is about a divorced 2ndian
woman studying in the "tates and her experiences
with interracial relationships. 6ne !uotation from
the story hints at +ukher*ee,s views of 2ndian men
as being too preoccupied to truly care for their wives
and children4 /T-ll 2ndian men are wife beaters,,
+aya Mthe narratorN says. "he means it and doesn,t
mean it.1
2n Wife, +ukher*ee writes about a woman named
3imple who has been surpressed by such men and
attempts to be the ideal 7engali wife, but out of fear
and personal instability, she murders her husband
and eventually commits suicide. &he stories in
3arness further endeavor to tell similar stories of
immigrants and women.
2n her third phase, +ukher*ee is described as having
accepted being /an immigrant, living in a continent
of immigrants1 I+. !td in -lam >J. "he describes
herself as -merican and not the hyphenated 2ndian%
-merican title4
2 maintain that 2 am an -merican writer of
2ndian origin, not because 2,m ashamed of
my past, not because 2,m betraying or
distorting my past, but because my whole
adult life has been lived here, and 2 write
about the people who are immigrants going
through the process of making a home
here... 2 write in the tradition of immigrant
experience rather than nostalgia and
expatriation. &hat is very important. 2 am
saying that the luxury of being a U.". citi$en
for me is that can define myself in terms of
things like my politics, my sexual orientation
or my education. +y affiliation with readers
should be on the basis of what they want to
read, not in terms of my ethnicity or my
race. I+ukher*ee !td. in 7asbanesJ
+ukher*ee continues writing about the immigrant
experience in most of the stories in The Middle Man
and Bther #tories, a collection of short stories which
won her the National 7ook (ritics (ircle -ward for
7est Fiction, <asmine, and essays. &hese stories
explore the meeting of 5ast and .est through
115
immigrant experiences in the U.". and (anada along
with further describing the idea of the great melting
pot of culture in the United "tates.
<asmine develops this idea of the mixing of the 5ast
and .est with a story telling of a young 'indu
woman who leaves 2ndia for the U.". after her
husband,s murder, only to be raped and eventually
returned to the position of a caregiver through a
series of *obs I-lam =DDJ. &he unity between the
First and &hird worlds is shown to be in the
treatment of women as subordinate in both
countries.
'er latest works include The 4older of the World,
published in =>>K, and $eave 7t to Me, published in
=>>F. The 4older of the World is a beautifully
written story about 'annah 5aston, a woman born
in +assachusetts who travels to 2ndia. "he becomes
involved with a few 2ndian lovers and eventually a
king who gives her a diamond know as the
5mperor,s &ear. I-lam =HDJ. &he story is told
through the detective searching for the diamond and
'annah,s viewpoint. +ukher*ee,s focus continues to
be on immigrant women and their freedom from
relationships to become individuals. "he also uses
the female characters to explore the spatiotemporal
I+assachusetts to 2ndiaJ connection between
different cultures. 2n $eave 7t to Me, +ukher*ee tells
the story of a young woman sociopath named 3ebby
3i+artino, who seeks revenge on parents who
abandoned her. &he story reveals her ungrateful
interaction with kind adoptive parents and a
vengeful search for her real parents Idescribed as a
murderer and a flowerchildJ. &he novel also looks at
the conflict between 5astern and .estern worlds
and at mother%daughter relationships through the
political and emotional topics by the main characer
in her !uest for revenge. (andia +c.illiam of The
$ondon Review of Boos describes +ukher*ee
appropriately as /- writer both tough and
voluptuous1 in her works.
Works
The Tiger!s 3aughter, 'oughton, =>FH.
Wife, 'oughton, =>F?.
%autilya!s -once&t of 3i&lomacy' " Aew
7nter&retation, +inerva, =>FE.
I.ith 7laiseJ 3ays and Aights in -alcutta
InonfictionJ, 3oubleday4 9arden (ity, New York,
=>FF.
"n 7nvisi*le Woman, +c(lelland Y "tewart, =>@=.
3arkness, #enguin, =>@?.
I.ith 7laiseJ The #orrow and the Terror' The
4aunting $egacy of the "ir 7ndia Tragedy, <iking,
=>@F.
The Middleman and Bther #tories, 9rove, =>@@.
<asmine, 9rove, =>@>.
Political -ulture and $eadershi& in 7ndia
InonfictionJ, "outh -sia, =>>=.
Regionalism in 7ndian Pers&ective InonfictionJ,
"outh -sia, =>>H.
The 4older of the World, :nopf4 New York (ity,
=>>K.
$eave 7t to Me, -.-. :nopf4 New York (ity, =>>F.
Holders o! the 6ord-
/n Inter'ie# #ith Bharati Mukher3ee
By Tina Chen and S9H9 Goudie
D5ni'ersity o! Cali!ornia8 BerkeleyE
(opyright IcJ =>>F by &ina (hen and ".O. 9oudie, all
rights reserved. &his text may be used and shared in
accordance with the fair%use provisions of U.".
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-rchiving, redistribution, or republication of this
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1. 2n her epilogue to 3ays and Aights in
-alcutta , 7harati +ukher*ee proclaims the
spirit that motivates her writing4 /5ven
more than other writers, 2 must learn to
astonish, to shock1 IH>>J. 7harati
+ukher*ee has indeed produced a body of
work that both sustains wonder and evokes
surprise. &he author of four novels4 The
Tiger!s 3aughter , Wife , <asmine , and The
4older of the World ; two short%story
collections, 3arness and The Middleman
and Bther #tories ; as well as The #orrow
and the Terror and 3ays and Aights in
-alcutta , two works of non%fiction co%
authored with her husband (lark 7laise,
+ukher*ee has deliberately, sometimes
flamboyantly, fused her many impulses,
backgrounds, and selves to create a /new
immigrant1 literature that embodies her
sense of what it means to be a woman writer
of 7engali%2ndian origin who has lived in,
and been indelibly marked by, both (anada
and the United "tates. 2n the process, she
has broken boundaries and refused to limit
herself to easy categories. "he sees herself as
a pioneerGof new territories, experiences,
and literaturesGand coextensive with her
mission to explore new worlds is her
intention to disturb what came before.
H. &hough adamant about her desire not to be
classified as a /postcolonial1 writerUcritic,
+ukher*ee nonetheless addresses a network
of issues of great importance to scholars and
writers less violently opposed to being
identified as /postcolonial.1 2n addition, her
writing has been the sub*ect of significant
scholarly engagement in recent years4 many
of the most recogni$ed figures in
postcolonial studies have addressed, often
vociferously, the goals of #rofessor
+ukher*ee,s critical and creative pro*ect.
7ecause of their concerns, seasoned and
aspiring scholars alike turn to her work to
engage a wide variety of critical perspectives
and theoretical approaches. "uch scholarly
interest suggests that, whatever a critic,s
point of view, both #rofessor +ukher*ee and
the postcolonial studies community are
vested in proliferating discussion on matters
116
involving race, class, gender, and nation in
national and transnational contexts. 2n fact,
despite the heretofore adversarial
relationship between some postcolonial
scholars and #rofessor +ukher*ee, one of
the virtues of this interview, we believe, is
that it points out significant areas of shared
concern between #rofessor +ukher*ee and
her detractors, despite attempts by both
parties to disavow such mutual interest.
3. 2n interviewing #rofessor +ukher*ee for
<ouvert' a ,ournal of &ostcolonial studies ,
we utili$ed an interviewing strategy that
negotiated the intersections of her artistic
vision and the !uestions and concerns raised
by critics in response to it. #rofessor
+ukher*ee, a writer who also prides herself
on being a scholar and a critic, responded
graciously to the challenges of such a
conversation. (onducted during the summer
of =>>E, the interview addresses a
constellation of !uestions and issues on the
process of writing, reading, and interpreting
fiction. 5ven as critical sites of possible
alliance between #rofessor +ukher*ee and
the postcolonial studies community dot the
surface of the interview, many of the
disagreements that exist between them are
cast into relief. &ogether, these locations
map the beginnings of a productive and
exciting literary cartography.
C. &he interview opens with a statement
volunteered by #rofessor +ukher*ee,
followed by five discrete sections. &he first,
/<ision and <oice,1 originates from
+ukher*ee,s admission that /the problem of
voice is the most exciting1 I3ays and Aights
H>@J and explores her artistic agenda before
addressing what critics and scholars have
had to say about her deployment of this
aesthetic. &he next section, /&he -nxiety of
2nfluence0,1 fleshes out +ukher*ee,s
relationships to other writers and asks her to
consider the multiple levels of engagement
between readers, writers, and critics. 2n the
third section of the interview, /&he #olitics
of New 2mmigrant .riting,1 +ukher*ee
discusses the ideological contours of the type
of writing she has engaged in. "he
comments on several leading postcolonial
scholars and what she perceives to be their
relationships to her work. -t times she
draws explicit boundaries between the goals
and orientation of postcolonial studies and
her own mission as a /new immigrant1
writer. 2n /"tates of <iolence,1 section 2<, we
talk about the crucial /space1 of violence in
her fiction, both on textual and metatextual
levels. Finally, in section <, /.riting and
&echnology,1 we examine the critical debate
surrounding +ukher*ee,s most recent novel,
The 4older of the World. -ppreciative of
<ouvert Ts investment in the intersections
between information technology and
scholarly practice, we ask a series of
!uestions about +ukher*ee,s use of virtual
reality as a trope for dislocating and
transforming literary, cultural, and
historical topographies of +ughal 2ndia and
colonial, =>th, and HDth%century United
"tates. (ollectively, then, the five sections of
the interview respond to the multiple
demands of literary production and
interpretation. 7y providing additional
insight into #rofessor +ukher*ee,s critical
and creative pro*ect while simultaneously
affording her a forum in which to criti!ue
postcolonial scholars and critics who have
expressed interest in her work, we offer a
survey of territorial disputes that are all the
more provocative for being still unsettled.
5. M4 #ostcolonial studies seems an
inappropriate category in which to place my
works. 2 don,t think of myself as a
postcolonial person stranded on the outer
shores of the collapsed 7ritish 5mpire. 2
haven,t thought of myself as a postcolonial
since 2 finished co%authoring, with my
husband (lark 7laise, 3ays and Aights in
-alcutta. .riting my half of that book was
my way of thinking through who 2 was,
where 2 was, where 2,d rather be. 2f 2 had
chosen to return to 2ndia after writing that
book in =>FF, or if, like "alman 8ushdie, 2,d
spent my entire adult life in 7ritain instead
of in North -merica, 2 might have evolved as
a postcolonial whose creative imagination is
fueled primarily by the desire to create a
new mythology of 2ndian nationhood after
the 8a*,s brutali$ation of 2ndian culture. 7ut
2 didn,t. 2 came to the U."., initially as a
student, because in =>E= the University of
2owa was the only place in the world offering
a degree in the area 2 wanted to study, and
because -merican universities had
scholarships to offer me. .hen 2 first
arrived on campus, 2 thought of myself as a
7engali rather than as an 2ndian. You were
who you were because of the language and
dialect you spoke, the location of the village
of your male ancestors, the family and
religion you were born into. 2 was a 7engali
and proud of it, which meant that 2 claimed
as heritage a culture distinct from that of a
7ihari or a #un*abi or a 9u*arati or a &amil.
&hat,s the way we were brought up in
(alcutta in the Fifties. .e were encouraged
to set ourselves apart from people of other
2ndian states. 2n 2owa, where 2 didn,t run
into too many 7engalis, 2 began to see and
feel affinities with rather than hostilities
towards non%7engali 2ndian students on
campus.
E. 2f you insist, on this beautiful +ay afternoon
in =>>E, that 2 describe myself in terms of
ethno%nationality, 2,d say 2,m an -merican
writer of 7engali%2ndian origin. 2n other
words, the writerUpolitical activist in me is
more obsessed with addressing the issues of
minority discourse in the U.". and (anada,
the two countries 2 have lived and worked in
over the last thirty odd years. &he national
mythology that my imagination is driven to
create, through fiction, is that of the post%
117
<ietnam United "tates. 2 experience,
simultaneously, the pioneer,s capacity to be
shocked and surprised by the new culture,
and the immigrant,s willingness to de%form
and re%form that culture. -t this moment,
my (alcutta childhood and adolescence offer
me intriguing, incompletely%comprehended
revelations about my hometown, my family,
my place in that community4 the kind of
revelations that fuel the desire to write an
autobiography rather than to mythologi$e an
2ndian national identity.
I. Vision and Voice
1. F. <4 2n /- Four%'undred Year 6ld .oman,1
you state that your /image of artistic
structure and excellence is the +ughal
miniature painting with its cra$y
foreshortening of vanishing point, its
insistence that everything happens
simultaneously, bound only by shape and
color1 IK@J. .ould you give an example of
how the +ughal miniature translates into
your writing0
2. @. M4 &he best example probably is /(ourtly
<ision,1 the last story in the collection
3arness. 2 have an obsessive love of
+ughal miniature painting. &he miniatures
that speak to me most elo!uently were
painted during the reign of 5mperor -kbar.
2 suppose that,s because mine is a writerly
love. 5ach of the -kbari paintings that 2,m
mesmeri$ed by is so crowded with narrative,
sub%narratives, sometimes meta%narratives,
so taut with passion and at the same time so
crisp with irony. 5very separate /story1 in
the miniature matters, every /minor
character1 has a dramatic function. 7ut all
the strands and details manage to cohere,
that,s what,s ama$ingL -nd each is /framed1
by an elaborately painted border. &he border
shouldn,t be dismissed as the artists,
excessive love of adumbration. &he border
forces you to view the work not primarily as
a source of /raw1 sociological data, but as
sociology meta&hori+ed ; that is, as a
master%artist,s observation on
lifeUhistoryUnational psyche cast in the
aesthetic traditions of the community and
transmuted into art.
&he story, /(ourtly <ision,1 was inspired by
a number of -kbari paintings, particularly
one that shows the 5mperor in battle dress,
leading his massive, battle%ready army out of
his fortressed capital. &he painting
anticipates victory, and evokes a celebratory
mood. &he mood is historically tenable4
-kbar, wise, tolerant, brave, won his wars.
7ut what drew the writer in me to the
painting was the conte;tual irony of such
victory on the battlefield. -kbar built an
ex!uisite capital city in Fatehpur "ikri, but
he had to abandon it because he,d sited it in
a drought $one. 'e was affably curious
about /the other,1 which meant he allowed
in 5uropean peddlers, freebooters, (hristian
missionaries, and so unintentionally
facilitated the power grab by the many
5uropean 5ast 2ndia (ompanies, and the
eventual debilitation of the +ughals. .hen 2
started /(ourtly <ision,1 2 was aiming to
close with that epiphanic contextual irony.
7ut before 2 finished the first draft, the
/frame1Gconverting verisimilitude into
meta%narrativeGhad worked itself in. &he
/frame1 made the reader witness to a
painter,s Ivia author,sJ re%presentation of
history as evidenced in a slick "otheby,s
catalogue, and, through the inclusion of the
cheap estimated price, upped the final irony
into 5urope,s devaluation of +ughal art.
Until recent decades, 5urocentric art
criticism dismissed +ughal miniatures as
unsophisticated, as lacking mastery of
perspective. &he point is that +ughal artists
had developed a +ughal aesthetic. &hey
preferred to work with many points of focus.
2 had some idea, while 2 was writing the
stories for 3arness and The Middleman ,
how much about form and principle 2 had
absorbed from the =Eth% and =Fth%century
paintings 2 so loved. 7ut it was as 2 drafted
the essay, /- Four%'undred Year 6ld
.oman,1 that 2 thought through, and
articulated, my +ughal%inspired narrative
aesthetic. 2 like to move narrative by
indirection, to create apparent /lumps1 and
/spills1 along the through%line. &his applies
to novels like <asmine and The 4older of
the World as well as to the short stories.
/&he $ig$ag route,1 one of my characters
confesses, /is the shortest.1 &he indirect
narratives are, of course, designed to parallel
or to undermine the main character,s story.
&he parts, when added up and /framed,1
should reveal authorial vision. &he /frame1
and /voice1Gthe term that we writers
communally use to indicate aesthetic
strategyGare what make the sum of the
parts, HbHbK, not F but =D.
3. <4 "o you work like a *ricoleur , parts are
used and reused and shaped and reshaped,
much like the character asmine,s identity.
-s with time and space in the novel, things
do seem to recur though with a difference,
even as asmine suggests she,s given up one
identity and moved on to another. &here are
a series of transformations...
4. M4 Yeah, asmine goes through several
transformations, and 2 like to think that she
is still open to many more self%inventions.
"he lives on, very fully, inside my head. 7ut
when 2 was talking about indirection , 2 was
trying to insist that the novel, <asmine , be
read as more than the story of asmine,s
change. &hat,s why the novel provided so
many different points of focus4 the
experience of dislocation and relocation is
handled by each of the immigrant
11*
characters. -s in -kbari miniatures, my
novel compresses the immigration histories
of many minor characters. #rofessor*i, his
wife, his elderly parents, the (aribbean
housekeepers in +anhattan, the
9uatemalans in Florida, 3u and his -sian%
-merican friend in 2owa4 even within an
ethnic group, each minor character has a
distinct response. -nd white -mericans,
including the volunteer for the "anctuary
+ovement, treat these various minor
characters variously. &he /opposed parallel1
that moved me most as 2 was writing was the
one between asmine and 3u. asmine,s
very open to new experience and optimistic
about outcome. 'er attitude is4 4ey, you
can!t ra&e me and get away with it5 You
can!t &ush me around5 7!m here, 7!m gonna
stay if 7 want to, and 7!m gonna conFuer
the territory5 3u, who has to attend school
in the U."., probably outwardly dresses
more like U.".%born -mericans than does
asmine, and certainly is more familiar with
-merican collo!uialisms and pop culture,
but he,s cynical of post%<ietnam -merica,
he,s aware of the limits of the -merican
3ream and makes his guerrilla attacks on
that 3ream. &he total picture4 that,s the
heady part of writing, the creating of all
these...
5. <4 little miniature universes within the
frame.
6. M4 8ight. 2n a way, 2 suppose that,s being a
'indu, 2 mean, this being constantly aware
of the existence of many universes, this
undermining of biography and individual
ego. &he cosmology that my characters and 2
inhabit derives very much from the #uranic
tales. &he Puranas are cycles of tales Ithink
of them as morality tales, religious fables,
there are thousands of themJ that every
'indu child is told the way that kids in the
U.". are exposed to fairytales and bedtime
stories. -s /story,1 they really work, tooL
(onflict, heroes, villains, obstacles, action,
surprise revelationL 7ut the stories
meta&hori+e the 'indu concepts of
cosmology, time and space. (urrent
discoveries in astronomy are certainly
pointing up the existence of universes other
than ours. 2 believe in re%incarnation, which,
too, may be a metaphor for some geo%
biological phenomenon, why not0
7. <4 'as your background as a 'indu enabled
you to create an intimacy with the reader,
from a New .orld perspective, that is
distinct from other stylistic and narrative
techni!ues you,ve encountered in -merican
writing0
*. M4 2 don,t know if all 'indu%-merican
writers see the world in the way that 2 do
and the way that 2 mix 2slam with 'indu art,
because 2,ve been exposed to both of these,
really results in a very syncretic narrative
strategy. -s such, my incorporation of
'induism might be !uite opposed to how
some other 'indu writer living in New York
may think of 'induism or exercise it. 2 don,t
want to lump all 'indus together.
+. <4 You,ve identified /voice1 as the /prime
aesthetic1 of your writing. 2n this context, it
seems particularly interesting that <asmine
has been criti!ued for the inauthenticity of
the protagonist,s voice; as Liew%9eok Leong
writes, /MtNhe voice of asmine, surprisingly
articulate and assured, is not always
believable, given her background and
circumstances; it is her creator,s voice that
takes over and speaks for her, the result
perhaps of too close an identification with
the sub*ect1 IC>CJ. Upon reflection, do you
see any validity in this evaluation0
1,. M4 Leong would appear to be ignorant of the
craft%related lexicon of contemporary
-merican writers. ust as terms such as
/essentialism,1 /subaltern,1 /agency,1 and
/signifier1 are accepted by academics as
shorthand for certain conceptual constructs,
so /voice1 is our shorthand for the process of
decision%making regarding tone, diction,
pacing, texture, withholding, etc. in a given
work.
11. <4 2n other words, you,re suggesting that
your notion of voice is more expansive, that
you,re not striving after some sort of
realistic, mimetic voice.
12. M4 2 am saying that being a scholar as well
as a writer, 2 expect myself to do my
homework very, very thoroughly, before 2
make public pronouncements. /<oice1
should not have been confused with tone,
diction, etc. 6f course 2 am not striving after
some sort of realistic, mimetic voice. 2 leave
that to tape%recorders. -rt is about selection,
styli$ation, and metaphoric revelation.
13. <4 6ther writers have been sub*ect to the
same sort of criticism in terms of voice,
right0 For example, the -frican -merican
writer (harles ohnson has been critici$ed
severely by some because the protagonist of
his award%winning novel Middle Passage , a
freed slave, speaks in highly philosophical
language, and his narrative voice tends to be
anachronistic.
14. M4 ames -lan +c#herson gets the same
flak for not using /inner city1 -merican%
5nglish exclusively or predominantly. 2t,s
absurd. 2t,s as absurd as saying that because
9ayatri "pivak was born into a 7engali
family and grew up in (alcutta, she has no
right to public expression in non%7engali
languages, especially not in the languages of
former colonialist nations such as 5ngland
or France, nor to derive any theoretical
model from +arx or other 5uropean white
males. 2 believe that if you are literate, all
literature that you expose yourself to is your
heritage to claim or re*ect.
15. <4 -gain, it seems that your ma*or concern
with such critics is that, in the interests of
/authenticity,1 they restrict you from using
11+
the assembly of creative tools in your bag,
that there,s a prescribed way in which
/voice1 is supposed to be rendered.
16. M4 2t,s patroni$ing, elitist, and classist of
such critics to presume that the poor and the
de% privileged do not have sophisticated
thoughts and poetic articulation. &hey need
to ac!uaint themselves with scholarship
regarding oral literature. 2n addition, 2 am
very bothered by their reduction of art to
sociological statement. Fiction transmits its
message Iby which 2 mean its author,s
visionJ very differently from essays.
17. <4 9iven your criticism of <.". Naipaul
=
along those lines during an interview some
years ago I/- (onversation1J, it must be
particularly painful to be critici$ed for a
certain failure in voice. 2n that interview,
you attacked Naipaul,s notion that the
dispossessed are incapable of articulating, in
sophisticated ways, their pain, desires, etc.
'e suggested to you that he feels they,re
incapable of speaking in any complex or
redemptive way due to their psychological,
social, and cultural fragmentation as a result
of colonialism. You are now sub*ect to an
attack that is the flip side of the same coin.
&he suggestion is that you,re still not
allowing them to think and speak for
themselves. (ritics argue that you,re *ust...
1*. M4 &hey have taken a Naipaulian position
about me and my writing, from a high moral
ground, and 2 resent that, and 2,m saying
that...
1+. <4... they,re the ones who want to speak.
&hat they want to speak for these people and
have you renounce your right to speak in the
ways you wish0
2,. M4 8ight. &hat,s where my ire is located.
&he writer claims only to speak for her
uni!ue, eccentric characters. &hese critics,
on the other hand, though they locate
themselves in North -merica and participate
in the North -merican competitive,
materialist economy, invent or appropriate
the positions of populous, -sia%based
communities, and worse, they reduce the
diversity of those communities, positions
into one that fits most neatly into their
favored theory. &he 2ndian graduate
students and *unior faculty members 2 have
talked to on western 2ndian campuses in the
1
8ir @idiadhar 8ura>%rasad 4ai%aul/ 9t. AKni"ht #achelorB/ TC
AThe $rinity Cro%% is the hi!hest national a#ard in Trinidad and
To(a!oB/ (orn 1u!ust 17/ 1+32 in Cha!uanas/ Trinidad and
To(a!o/ (etter 2no#n as @. 8. 4ai%aul/ is a TrinidadianC(orn
British #riter o& 6ndoCTrinidadian descent/ currently resident in
5iltshire.
4ai%aul #as 2ni!hted (y Dueen 3li;a(eth 66 in 1++, and a#arded
the 4o(el :ri;e in .iterature in 2,,1.
0e is the son/ older (rother/ uncle/ and cousin o& %u(lished authors
8ee%ersad 4ai%aul/ 8hia 4ai%aul/ 4eil Bissoondath/ and @ahni
Ca%ildeo/ res%ectiely. 0is current #i&e is 4adira 4ai%aul/ a
&ormer :a2istani >ournalist.
last two years have expressed growing
resentment of such usurpation. &he theorist
they most often named was "pivak, perhaps
because she is the best%known of the 2ndo%
-merican group.
"ome recent publications by serious 2ndian
literary critics based in 2ndia, for instance by
#rofessors -i*a$ -hmad and 'arish &rivedi
of the University of 3elhi, indicate an
emerging resentment of the appropriation of
7ndianality and &ostcoloniality by scholars
of 2ndian origin Ior of non%5uropean originJ
who have opted for U.". citi$enship andUor
permanent residence in North -merica. &he
<ouvert community is no doubt well aware
of -hmad,s direct attack on 5dward "aidG
and by extension, it would seem, his indirect
attack on "pivakGfor /internationali$ing the
periphery.1 I&hat,s -hmad,s phrase, not
mine. 2 myself prefer to re*ect the
centerUperiphery template, and so, resist
5urocentric vocabulary.J #rofessor &rivedi,
who lectured here at 7erkeley a few months
ago on the 5urocentric implications of the
term /postcolonial,1 was more direct in his
attack on the right of "pivak, a U.". citi$en
and long%term U.". resident, to speak for the
/periphery.1
21. <4 "pivak has cautioned against reading her
as someone who claims to /give voice1 to
those she represents; she has said in The
Postcolonial -ritic Gand 2,m paraphrasingG
that to read her as speaking for /the
periphery1 is to read her, wrongly, as a
/&hird .orld informant.1
22. M4 7ut then she goes on to, at the same
time, trounce others for providing versions,
portraits that don,t coincide with hers so
that she, 2,m not going to say that she,s
lying, but there,s this problematic position...
23. <4 You don,t get the same reception0
24. M4 6h, 2 get severely attacked by many
2ndian critics, but for a very different
reasonL .hereas 2 have heard "pivak being
attacked for appropriation of the so%called
/periphery,1 2 have been virulently attacked
for defining myself as an -merican writer of
2ndian origin writing of the diasporic and
immigrant experience. 2t started with a
response to a *ournalist,s !uestion during a
press conference in 3elhi in =>>D. 2 was
asked, /.ouldn,t you, if you had your
rathers, come back to live in 2ndia01 and,
thinking of my husband and children settled
in the "tates, answered, /Frankly, no.1 &hat
/no1 was misinterpreted as a betrayal of my
2ndian heritage. 7ut, now that so many
2ndian families have relatives settled in the
U."., my /immigrant1 material is being read
or re%read in fresh ways.
25. <4 2n this discussion about who gets to speak
and who doesn,t, there seems to be an
12,
implicit criticism that your characters are
not authentic.
26. M4 8ight, and 2,m saying that this Leong
should be listening to rap, doing some more
/hanging out1 in inner cities to see how
much poetry there is in ordinary lives. 'ow
can any critic have the audacity to assume
that all members of a group think, feel,
react, and verbali$e identically0 'ow do you
explain one brother from a dysfunctional
family becoming a writerG2,m thinking
obviously of ohn 5dgar .ideman, author
of Philadel&hia Fire Gand his brother
becoming a murderer0 "o, to assume that
you are identical with everyone else in your
class is to not understand human beings.
27. <4 -nd when she accuses you of perhaps
identifying too closely with your sub*ect and
writing an /inauthentic1 character as a result
of that identification, would your charge be
/no, you,re also identifying with the sub*ect
but your identification forecloses the
possibility of the life which 2 choose to
explore10
2*. M4 .ell, not only that. 2 hear Leong saying
that someone from asmine,s background
and circumstances cannot speak the way
that she does. You see, that,s very different
from the way you,re verbali$ing it. 2 am
saying that to think all people who are born
poor are therefore incapable of thought,
imagination, and speech, is a very elitist and
classist kind of assumption; 2 need to see
them as individuals rather than types.
2+. <4 2t seems that you are responding to this
!uestion on at least two different levels.
3,. M4 +y response to this !uestion is
structured on three different levels. 6ne is
that the critic doesn,t understand voice; she
simply is ignorant about how writers use
this term. +y second point is that no fine
fiction, no good literature, is anchored in
verisimilitude. Fiction must be metaphor. 2t
is not transcription of real life but it,s a
distillation and pitching at higher
intensification of life. 2t,s always a
distortion. -nd then the third point is that
*ust because asmine happens to be poor
doesn,t mean she is incapable of
imagination, intelligence, and articulate
speech.
II. Anxiety of Influence?
31. <4 -re there 2ndian writers writing in
5nglish whose work you admire0
32. M4 3o you mean -nglophone writers who
are 2ndian citi$ens and are residing in 2ndia0
8.:. Narayan. 2 keep nominating him for the
Nobel #ri$e. 2,m also very interested in
younger fiction writers and poets like 8. 8a*
8ao and 8an*it 'oskhote.
33. <4 2n addition to Naipaul, we,re wondering
what other (aribbean writers have
influenced you in any way4 .ilson 'arris
and his -mer2ndian aesthetics, +ichele
(liff, 5douard 9lissant, or +aryse (ond_
and their notions of cross%cultural poetics,
etc.
34. M4 None of them have influenced me,
though, of course, 2 have en*oyed reading
each of them. -bout Naipaul, 2 can,t say that
he influenced me, but 2 can say that " 4ouse
for Mr. Biswas ins&ired me when 2 read it as
a student in the early "ixties. 2 hadn,t read
any fiction about &rinidad 2ndians before
that. &hat novel gave me the self%confidence
to claim my own fictional world.
35. <4 2f, as with oseph (onrad,s 4eart of
3arness , /canonical1 texts exercise an
influence, however disturbing, on the
formerly coloni$edGand in some instances,
newly immigratedG what colonialist texts
have left their mark on you0
36. M4 None, really. 7y the way, 2 didn,t read
4eart of 3arness until 2 came to the "tates.
6f all 5nglish literature 2 was exposed to,
"hakespeare,s tragedies moved most. 2 could
recite solilo!uies by +acbeth, 'amlet,
#ortia, "hylock, :ing Lear, (ordelia with
great feeling. 2 think it was the music of the
lines, the sound of the words, that excited
me. 5locution was my most favorite sub*ect
in school. 2 loved to read poetry out loud.
&agore and :eats, oh, they were so heady
when 2 was a schoolgirl in (alcutta. 2
responded to the euphony first; then to the
ideas. 2 didn,t know any 7uddhists and came
from a staunch 'indu family, but &agore
made me weep over the persecution of
7uddhist converts in ancient 2ndia. "ame
with :eats; 2,d never been to 9reece, not
even seen pictures of the country, but 2 sure
could visuali$e the frie$escapes in the /6de
on a 9recian Urn.1 &here was something
fresh about :eats because he was rebelling
against the narrowness of 7ritish
conventions. &hough 2ndia was a sovereign
nation when 2 first encountered :eats, my
convent%school campus remained a very
/5nglish1 spot. You know, we had to sing
9ilbert and "ullivan comic operas, that sort
of thing, and we were expected to admire the
logic and orderliness of the 7ritish mind.
:eats was resisting those values in his
poems. 2 suppose loving :eats, poems for
me was a !uiet form of guerrilla warfare
against my teachers.
37. <4 7efore deciding to use it for The 4older
of the World , did :eats or /6de on a
9recian Urn1 ever take on a different aura
for you0 You have said elsewhere that your
life and work should be divided into three
distinct phasesGas a colonial, then national,
sub*ect in 2ndia, as a postcolonial 2ndian in
(anada, and as an immigrant, later a citi$en,
of the United "tates. 3id :eats and his ode
accompany you through those
transformations0
3*. M4 2,m not sure 2 even thought about :eats
for twenty years after leaving 2ndia. .hen 2
121
sat down to write The 4older , 2 was a very
different person from the girl who had
recited the odes out loud for pleasure, and
the /6de on a 9recian Urn1 was very much
on my mind because, like :eats, 2 was
playing with history and imagination. &hat,s
the marvelous thing about the writing
process4 you don,t know when and how a
memory, a scrap of conversation overheard,
an allusion or image, is suddenly going to
surface and work itself into your story. &hat
ode came to me; 2 didn,t seek it out. &hat,s
the way the creative process works for me. 2
knew right away that 2 would use the :eats
references to control and ironi$e what my
characters had to say about time, and to
make authorial meta%statements about
writing.
3+. <4 2s there a distinction between the way
that :eats sees the 9recian urn and the way
you see a +ughal painting0
4,. M4 &hat,s not the contrast that 2 would
make. 2 would make it between virtual
reality and the urn. &he urn is still, the
action is fro$en, and one can only observe.
2,m not so much concerned with what :eats
is saying about these people as 2 am with
how action has been stuck in time and can,t
be redone. &he people are always going to
have their hands and feet in one particular
posture, whereas with interactive
technology, you,re changing the narrative by
inputting new information according to your
new mood. &he ways virtual technology will
be used for therapy, to help autistic children
or to enable people to overcome their fears,
is very close to what 2,m talking about. &he
individual experiencing the image, not
simply the image itselfGboth are going to be
transformed by interaction.
41. <4 .e,ve asked you to discuss your literary
influences but we also wonder what /critics1
Mliterary and otherwiseN you consider
important to the development of your own
critical pro*ect in delineating the future of
-merican writing0
42. M4 None.
43. <4 3o you find the /writer%critic1 a more
effective, perhaps even more productive,
type of critic than the scholar0
44. M4 For writers and readers, yes. .riters
writing about fiction see the text as &rocess
whereas scholars reduce it to &roduct .
.riter%critics explore the work from inside
out; they divine the aesthetic decisions that
the text,s writer has made to best get across
the authorial vision, and then they assess the
effect of those decisions. &hey let the work
set up the criteria by which it should be
*udged instead of imposing their arbitrary
grid on the work; they aim to /open up1 the
work instead of reducing it to a dutifully%
followed or sloppily%followed set of narrative
rules thought up by a scholar. 2 think the
best essays on the /art of fiction,1 on
beginnings, endings, etc., to date have been
written by writers. - book of essays on
writing 2,d recommend is 4ow #tories Mean
, edited by ohn +etcalf and .8. "truthers.
(ontemporary scholars seem to have
deliberately removed themselves from
primary texts, so that not only do they
sometimes get their data wrong Iand 2 mean
titles of works, names of charactersJ, but
they often discard those complexities in the
text that don,t fit their theories, and they
devalue those aesthetic innovations that
challenge their particular socio%political
agendas. "cholars seem to *ust talk to
scholars, using a language of the initiated.
&he /subaltern1 critics might wish to speak
for the de%privileged, but they certainly
don,t speak to them.
III. The Politics of New Immigrant Writing
45. <4 You have remarked that no longer do you
find exilic writers as provocative as they
once were. Yet they,re still !uite popular.
.hy do you think expatriate writers like
Naipaul continue to en*oy such popularity,
specifically with .estern audiences0
46. M4 2 don,t know how popular they are or
what you mean by popularity. 2 think an
awful lot of minority writers and expatriate
writers complain that their books don,t get
into bookstores, that they may get reviews,
or the same few will get reviews, but that
there really isn,t any kind of cross%
fertili$ation of readers. 2 think there are two
kinds of writers and 2,m not saying that it,s
only about exilic writers or immigrant
writers but all writers4 those who reinforce
what the public thinks, the conventional
values, and those who constantly interrogate
the conventional values. -n awful lot of the
exilic writers, the expatriate writers, are
providing the kinds of portraits, moods,
positions, and problems with which the
readership, the publishing industry, and the
scholarsGor critics anywayGare familiar
and comfortable. &he few who are
obliterating that particular kind of discourse
between &hird .orld and First .orld,
margin and center, or minority and
mainstream, have a much harder time being
understood or being recogni$ed. 2,ve been
writing and publishing since =>F= but it,s
taken me an awfully long time to get any
attention, largely because 2 was, for a while,
an 2ndian citi$en living in (anada as a
landed immigrant and writing about people
outside of 2ndia. &hen 2 became a (anadian
citi$en but writing, let us say, about
immigrants in New York. &hey didn,t know
how to classify me, whether by my passport
or by my material, which was about
immigrants at a time when there was no
such category as /immigrant fiction1 that
wasn,t about 5uropeans coming to North
-merica during the =>th century. "o 2 don,t
know about /popularity.1 <ery recently there
was an article 2 read in the Times on
122
"panish%speaking writers in New York
ob*ecting vociferously to the ways in which
they are shut out when they write middle%
class fiction about middle%class characters
who speak in perfectly educated, sensitive
5nglish, even though they,re second or third
generation. &he stereotype is that if you,re
going to write about 'ispanics, you,d better
make them lettuce%pickers and have a
spiritualist. &he kind of criticism from
literary critics and theorists who have
encountered my own work stems from their
belief that if you,re 2ndia%born, you must
write about 2ndia and you must write about
an 2ndian woman or peasants being
victimi$ed.
47. <4 &hey want it primitivi$ed in some way.
4*. M4 Yes, stereotyped. 2t,s absurd, when you
think that 2,m writing about the post%=>E?
immigration%transformed -merica, and that
the ma*ority of "outh -sians granted visas
are urban, educated professionals and their
families. The aim o! !iction is to $reak
do#n stereotyes9 5n!ortunately8 the
u$lishing and academic industries
seem to ro!it more !rom rein!orcing
stereotyes9 &his is what -frican%
-merican intellectuals have to deal with too.
&hat,s why 2 feel 2,m on the same wavelength
with 'enry Louis 9ates, r., (ornel .est,
ames -lan +c#herson. .hy should a
minority person be made to feel guilty
because she believes education leads to both
self%improvement and national
enlightenment0 &o me, class is as divisive as
race.
4+. <4 ust as there is a risk of becoming locked
into one,s own exilic condition to the point
of pathetic self%absorption, isn,t there a
danger of being too celebratory about the
enabling aspects of an immigrant,s
/multicultural1 point of view0
5,. M4 2,m going to ob*ect to the word
/multicultural1 here because 2,ve spoken so
vociferously against this whole official
multiculturalism in (anada. 2,m going to
limit it to an immigrant,s point of view, all
right0 Yes, my work has sometimes been
cited for celebrating too enthusiastically the
swagger of immigration, the energies
released in the process of transformation. 2t
is as though certain readers cannot see
beyond the color of my characters, skin, or
their gender, or their predetermined view of
-merica, without linking them,
automatically, to the long sad history of New
.orld exploitation. Yes, they are victims but
they are resilient victims, unviolated in their
core of need and imagination. 8ocky, being
white, can pick himself off the canvas, land a
few blows, and be a hero; 8akesh, however,
a laid%off engineer with three kids and no
-merican certification, opens a dingy spice
store and 'indi video outlet and somehow is
perceived as pathetic. &his is the
stereotyping that has to end. +y #rofessor*i,
who used to be a doctor in his home country
and is now having to sell human hair for
making wigs or electronic e!uipment in
some basement video store in Wueens, is
somehow seen, necessarily, as a pathetic
character rather than as a resilient hero,
who says /all right, this didn,t work, but
something else will work.1
51. <4 7y identifying yourself as an immigrant
writer, you resist being classified by
postcolonial scholars as an exilic or
expatriate writer. You also don,t seem to
stake out an intellectual position as a
writerUscholar akin to what -bdul 8.
an+ohamed has termed the /specular
border intellectual,1 a category for writers
from formerly coloni$ed or enslaved places
who engage in a criti!ue of multiple
locations from a position of /homelessness%
as%home.1
52. M4 ust the fact you bring up an+ohamed
is troubling to me. .e,re very, very different
kinds of 2ndians. "imply because of skin
color and "outh -sian ancestry, the non%
"outh -sian is likely to lump us together *ust
as they have long lumped the "amuel
"elvons and the <.". Naipauls together as
part of the 2ndian diaspora. an+ohamed,
having been brought up in -frica according
to a different religion, a different language, a
different cultural and revolutionary
experience, has surely more to say about
minority discourse in -frica and about how
to apply his particular -frican training and
-frican experience to being a minority in a
white%dominated world in the U.". and less
about mainstream 2ndia and 2ndian writing.
&he mission of postcolonial studies as a
discipline is to level all of us to our skin color
and ethnic origin whereas as a writer, my *ob
is to open up, to discover and say /we are all
individuals.1 2n fiction we are writing about
individuals; none of them is meant to be a
crude spokesperson for whole groups,
whether those groups are based on gender
or race or class. 2f the story of one individual
reveals something about the way in which
human nature works, great, if it doesn,t,
then it has failed as art.
53. <4 'ow would you characteri$e, then, the
relationship that exists between
postcolonialism and your creative pro*ect0
54. M4 The mission o! ostcolonial studies
seems to $e to deli$erately e@uate /rt
and 3ournalism8 to reduce no'els to
secimens !or the con!irming o! their
theories. 2f an imaginative work doesn,t fit
the cultural theories they approve of, it,s
dismissed as defective. &he relationship
between the artist and the postcolonial
scholar has become adversarial. 2t doesn,t
have to be, that,s what,s so sad. 2,m not
denigrating all scholarship, but only that
particular school of postcolonial criticism
that is hostile to art and aesthetics. -ll that,
as a writer, 2 valueGpower of word%choice
123
and placement of punctuation, imagery,
texture, pacingGall the strategies that 2
employ to articulate my vision as precisely
as 2 can to the reader, these scholars treat as
debris to be cleared for the exposing of
camouflaged /hegemonic1 agendas in the
narrative.
55. <4 You make some very clear distinctions
between writers and scholars. 2n the field of
(aribbean postcolonial studies, such
distinctions are not so clear. #eople like
5douard 9lissant, .ilson 'arris, and
+aryse (ond_ would all be considered both
important postcolonial scholars and writers.
2sn,t there an opportunity for solidarity
between scholarUwriters or haven,t you
reached out to those voices0
56. M4 6h, 2,m friends with +aryse (ond_, and
am familiar with the work of 'arris and
9lissant. 2,m glad to hear that scholars of
(aribbean studies are not as anti%
imaginative literature as are the "pivak%
influenced 2ndo%-merican postcolonial
graduate students who write papers or
dissertation chapters on my work. 2 find so
many glaring errors in their so%called
scholarship; 2 mean getting really basic data
wrong, like titles or genre of a text, names of
significant characters. 2 don,t know how
such shoddy work gets past a dissertation
supervisor in any respectable universityL 2
recently came across a paper by an 2ndo%
-merican woman scholar that accused me,
not my characterIsJ, of being anti%-merica,
and recommended that 2 should try to feel
more comfortable living in the United
"tates, all on the basis of having read one
single story, the title of which she got wrong.
2t sometimes appears that all 2 value as a
writer are being deliberately denigrated or
disregarded by the scholars. .hat is
important to me is 2saac 7abel saying, /-
comma placed *ust right will stab the heart,1
whereas for a lot of these scholars, *udging
from the papers that 2,ve read, to worry
about artistic or meter%effective placement
of punctuation is to be sort of right%wing.
57. <4 2n his book 7n Theory , -i*a$ -hmad
criti!ues the notion of /adversarial
internationali$ation1 by arguing that while
/"aid speaks, inexplicably, of Tintellectual
and scholarly work from the peripheries,
done either by immigrants or by visitors,
both of whom are generally anti%
imperialist,....MtNhe vast ma*ority of
immigrants and visitors who go from Tthe
peripheries, to the T.estern center, in the
United "tates either take no part in politics
and scholarly endeavor or turn out to be
right%wing people,1 IHDF%@J. 'e
characteri$es you as the ultimate
representative of this second type of person.
'ave you had a chance to respond to this
assertion in any formal way0
5*. M4 Yes, yes 2 have. 2 did it for an 2ndian
publication that is the e!uivalent, sort of, of
the Aew Yor Times #unday Maga+ine.
&hey,d invited writers to write about the
notion of /internationali$ing the periphery,1
if you like. First of all, 2 want to know where
-i*a$ -hmad gets his statistics for making
this kind of generali$ation0 2 didn,t find it in
his footnotes and 2 certainly didn,t find it in
the text. -nd then, has he ever done
research on my voting records0 3oes he
know that 2 was a very active member of the
N3# in (anada0 &he choice 2 was faced with
in the late FDs *ust prior to leaving for the
United "tates in =>@D was to either give up
writing and run for public office as an N3#
candidate, or say to myself, /#olitics,
someone else will carry on. 2 live my most
real life through writing.1
5+. <4 &hese are highly provocative re*oinders to
level at -hmad, especially considering how
he critici$es "aid for not checking his facts
or statistics. -hmad even goes so far to
suggest that "aid hasn,t really read your
writing, or the writings of your immigrant
peers, and that "aid,s classification of you as
/anti%imperialist1 is gleaned from what other
critics have said about immigrant texts
rather than a first%hand reading of them.
6,. M4 Yeah, well, 2 don,t think that -hmad has
checked his facts about me or read any of my
essays either, let alone my fiction. -nd then
2 want to know, what does /right%wing1
mean in the context of his !uotation0 3oes it
mean simply that anyone who is not a
+arxist is /right%wing10 2f /right%wing,1 for
-hmad, applies to anyone who agrees with
the spirit behind the -merican (onstitution
and the idea of democracy, then 2 suppose 2
am. 2 do not wish to triviali$e democratic
ideals by e!uating -merica with blue *eans
and (oca%(ola, which is a very cheap, easy
shot that 5uropeans as well as many "outh
-sian intellectuals take. -s such, 2,m placing
my faith in fighting for civil rights and this is
where 2 talk about my political aesthetics in
this essay. &he cause that 2 have now put a
great deal of my energy into is fighting for
gay rights; for gay rights to be treated as an
extension of civil rights. .hen 2 lived in
(anada, it was the gay groups who worked
hardest for us "outh -sians, in fighting
discrimination. "outh -sians were at the
bottom of (anada,s race%based totem pole.
&he feminists let us Mpeople of colorN down
as they obtained their goals regarding
women,s rights. 2f the (onstitution gives me
a way of forcing Newt 9ingrich,s feet to the
fire, a way of forcing -merican politicians to
live up to the letter of the law, then 2,m going
to do that. -nd if that means being /right%
wing1 by -hmad,s standard then too bad. 2
find these categories totally, totally useless.
2n 2ndia, among the intellectuals that 2 see
once or twice a year while traveling, there is
no agreement about what constitutes right%
wing and left%wing. 2n my hometown,
(alcutta, there are four distinct communist
124
political parties. For instance (alcutta,s
+aoists call the city,s +oscow%+arxists
/right%wing,1 so 2 don,t know where -hmad
is coming from, and he ought to know
better.
61. <4 Yet in terms of the /-merican1 scene,
-hmad seems to argue that immigrant
writers such as yourself have re%adopted the
notion of -merica as /melting pot.1 'e,s
suggesting that ironically, by using the
melting%pot mode of writing, you,re allowing
yourself to be coopted yet again by the
mainstream4 to hybridici$e in a syncreti$ed
fashion can be a very conservative position
to adopt. .hile your writing can be seen as
progressive and action%oriented, scholars
such as :ristin (arter%"anborn argue that
many of your heroines are passive, women
who are changed by, rather than changing,
the -merican landscape. 3espite their
seeming adaptability, the argument is that
you are romantici$ing their domestication.
&hese critics would like to see, ostensibly,
more resistance to the assimilation and
cooptation of these non%traditional
immigrants.
62. M4 asmine or 'annah 5aston aren,t
passive women, by anyone,s measure. &hey
!uite literally cross oceans, transform their
worlds, and in the process leave behind a
heap of bruised hearts and bleeding bodiesL
2 don,t think -hmad has read my works. 2f
he had read them, he would have known
that 2 don,t use 5uropean or 5uro%-merican
models for my narratives. 2,m having to
invent a whole new structure for -merican
fiction, a whole new kind of sentence to
express non%traditional immigrant emotions
and psychic texture. 2t,s very hard for critics
in the U.". and in 2ndia to understand who
asmine is, or where she,s coming from,
because she,s not a familiar -merican or
2ndian character. &o resist and remain the
way you were in 2ndia is to perpetuate, and
more disturbingly, is to valori$e, an awful lot
of cultural vices such as sexism, patriarchy,
castism, classism. .ould -hmad consider it
cooptation when an -merican woman writer
who has emigrated from a clitoridectomy%
valori$ing +uslim community, let,s say from
&ogo, chooses to adopt for herself and to
supportGthrough her fictionGthe U.".
socialUculturalUlegal response to rituali$ed
female mutilation0 &he immigrant writer
decides what to let go and what to retain. 2t,s
always a two%way transformation. &o resist
cultural and ideological mutation simply
because one want to retain
racialUculturalUreligiousUcaste /purity10 is,
in my opinion, evil. 2,m against that kind of
'itlerian racial and ethnic pride; 2,m against
the retention of /pure culture1 for the sake of
purity.
2 think a very significant, thought probably
unanticipated conse!uence of the
controversy generated by 7n Theory has
been the legitimation of /immigrant fiction1
by writers of 2ndian origin as a genre !uite
distinct from /post%2ndependence fiction1 by
2ndian writers residing in 2ndia, and from
/exilic fiction1 by 2ndia%born writers residing
outside 2ndia. &he works of 2ndian%
(aribbean writers like 8oop Lal +onar,
2ndian%(aribbean%(anadian writers like
"am "elvon, "onny Ladoo, (yril 3abydeen,
Neil 7issoondath, 2ndian%-frican%(anadian
writers like +oyse <assan*i, 9oan%-frican
writers like <iolet 3ia$ Lannoy, 2ndian%
7ritish writers like 'anif :ureishi, are more
intelligently explored in the context of exile.
For works like Midnight!s -hildren , The
TrotterDAama , The 2reat 7ndian Aovel ,
however, the most appropriate context is
exilic mythologi$ation Iof personal and
national historiesJ. 6n my more recent
annual trips to 2ndia, especially when 2,ve
taken part in panels with 2ndian academics
on the literature of the 2ndian diaspora or
conducted Fiction .orkshops on the
University of 7aroda campus, 2,ve noted my
2ndian colleagues, increased awareness of
the discrete aims of these two genres.
63. <4 2n /2mmigrant .riting,1 you discuss how
-merica has /lost the power to transform
the world,s imagination.1 You suggest that
no one as yet has spoken for /New
-mericans from non%traditional immigrant
countries.1 .hy is it the burden, or privilege
Gdepending on how one looks at itGof new
-merican immigrant writers to
/reinvigorate1 not only -merican writing,
but also /the world,s imagination10
64. M4 First of all, 2 don,t think that the writer
starts to work on her novel by saying, /2,m
going to invigorate all of -merican writing.1
-ny writer who does so will end up
producing a sterile, agenda%ridden text and
not literature. .hat 2, as immigrant writer,
hope for is to transform as well as *e
transformed by the world 2,m re%imagining
and re%creating through words. 2,d like to
think that ideas and feelings generated by
my fiction will trickle into other cultures and
literatures through translation, and provoke
re%thinking of what citi$enship entails.
<asmine has been translated into =@
languages. 2,m very touched and humbled by
the letters 2 get from immigrant readers who
have read the book in their own language
and have integrated asmine,s adventures
into their own personalUcultural experience.
65. <4 &hat,s an intriguing dialectic, this idea of
immigrant writers and their characters
simultaneously transforming and being
transformed. +aurice +erleau%#onty
defines /intersub*ectivity1 in a related way as
the trespassing of one,s self on the other and
of the other on one,s self... for him, contact
with /the other1 is not all about assimilation.
125
66. M4 Yeah, and 2,ve written at great length on
that idea, as early as =>>D.
67. <4 &o move beyond -hmad and his concerns
with your writing, what relationship do you
see in the future between what we,ve called
/immigrationism1Gnot a term you used but
one that seems to capture the spirit of the
pro*ect you outline in /2mmigrant
.riting1Gand postcolonialism0 .hat do
you think keeps the "outh -sian
postcolonialists with whom you,ve expressed
dissatisfaction from listening to you in the
way you feel you should be listened to0
6*. M4 -rrogance. -nd a lack of sensitivity to
literature. 2 think that they come to works of
fiction with closed%off, ready%made, perfectly
sealed theories and that they,re not willing
to discover any new ground. ust as in
travelogues, some travelers, like a <.".
Naipaul, !uite often go with preconceived
notions about the country and find only
what they expect to find4 reinforcement and
confirmation of their preconceived notions.
&here are other travelers, and 2 hope 2,m one
of these, who come with a fluid, open mind,
and let the locals speak for themselves; they
experience the place on its own terms. &here
are those who confirm social, political
stereotypes and other writers who
interrogate the stereotypes. .illiam 9ass
will have a respected small audience, but
he,s never going to have a wide, popular
audience because he isn,t entertaining and
comforting the average reader by expressing
the ideas and articulating the philosophies
that make you feel good about yourself.
In terms o! seeing connections
$et#een the South /sian
ostcolonialists and immigrationism8
I see BdiasoralityC as a kind o!
continuum #ith immigrants and
immigrationists at one end o! the
scale and e%atriate or e%ilic !igures
and ostcolonialists at the other. &hose
who decide, /all right, 2,m going to go on
with my life, the past is going to color my
present and the present is going to color my
future, but here and now, 2,m a different
person,1 these people reflect the spirit of
immigrant writing by keeping themselves
open to new experiences and responding
second by second. &hey,re changing and
being changed4 you are a new person every
second of your life depending on how you
act and whether you are open to bruisings
and dentings. &his energy is completely
opposed to the postcolonial who, if he or she
is not within the immediate postcolonial
context, is simply talking about the past and
ignoring or obliterating the present because
it,s so much safer to talk about a dead
debate.
6+. <4 'as the marketplace proven itself open to
/new experiences1 and how has that
dynamic affected the reception of your
work0
7,. M4 2n =>@? no U.". publisher was willing to
publish the manuscript of 3arness because
at that time there was no marketing category
for /ethnic immigrant -merican fiction.1
&he issues facing the "outh -sian
community of naturali$ed citi$ens were
perceived as irrelevant to /real1 -mericans,
meaning whites, -frican%-mericans and
dispossessed -merican 2ndians. 5ditors
would say, /&his collection is incredibly
powerful, even though it,s so dark in its
outlook, but we can,t imagine any -merican
reader wanting to read about these people.1
&he book was eventually bought for \K?DD
(anadian dollars by #enguin (anada, and
came out as a paperback original that was
meant to get lost. 2n the introduction to the
collection, 2 talked about seeing myself as /a
series of fluid identities.1 "ince then, 2,ve
found corroboration in the fascinating
published material of psychologists and
academicsG-lan 8oland,s work on the
conte;tual self and in 8obert . Lifton,s
work on the &rotean self. 2 would have had
an easier time getting published, and being
paid more decent advances, if 2 had written
in the exilic tradition of nostalgia and loss.
71. <4 .hat about someone whose fluidity is
forestalled, who is unable to move beyond
the past despite a willingness to engage in
the present0 3imple, in Wife , seems to be
*ust such a character.
72. M4 "everal of my characters fail to move
from expatriate to immigrant in the
/diasporality1 spectrum. "ome of the
characters don,t try, don,t want to. 2n my
narratives, 2 want to represent a varied set of
responses to the experience of un%
housement. -nd these characters help to
piece together an unsentimental portrait of
the United "tates. 2 certainly know what 2
love about the spirit of -merica, but 2,ve also
written at great length about the underside
of the -merican 3ream. 'annah, in The
4older , is an embodiment of the guts,
imagination and assertiveness of that
-merican spirit, and its undersideGthe will
to imperiali$e.
73. <4 -s you,ve outlined above, much of the
/energy1 which marks good writing stems
from its willingness to engage in the
/bruisings and dentings1 of life. -re writing
programs doing enough to impress upon
young writers the benefits of engaging the
/real world1 political, ethnic, and racial
struggles in -merican society0
74. M4 &he answer is /No.1 /ll !iction is
olitical and moral8 $ut 'ery !e#
#orks o! !iction in this country are
about olitics or morality9 1o'elists
humanize Bthe otherC8 and re'eal a
3ust8 generous8 ideal #orld8 $ut they
don4t hector nor dictate as do
demagogues and amhleteers9 I
126
think that minority /merican #riters
are more likely to want toIand
attem't toIcreate national
mythologies through their !iction than
are #hite /mericans8 $ecause history
and memory are o! o#er!ul
conse@uence to them9 The original
#hite settlers4 dream o! Brugged
indi'idualismC is anti=history.
IV. States of Violence
1. @=. <4 You,ve commented before that a lot of
your stories are about transfiguration or
psychic transformation, not economic
transformation, and that you conse!uently
are interested in psychic violence and its
effect on the individual, often female -sian
-mericans, rather than group violence and
its effect on the masses. .hy do you think
you,ve concentrated more on psychic
violence inflicted upon the individual and
less on political unrest and labor agitation in
your work, especially as you were sub*ect to
the threats of such violence during your
childhood in (alcutta0
2. @H. M4 9ood fiction concentrates on the
emotional, intellectual and physical
responses of a small cast of characters when
they are thrust into a situation that is not
routine for them. #olitics and history, or
rather political and historical events,
provide the conte;t for the characters,
varying reactions. -nd, by forcing the reader
to live through the particular characters in
their particulari$ed situations, the author
hopes that readers will make an epiphanic
connection to the world of real politics and
issues around them. 8emember (ynthia
6$ick,s story, /&he "hawl10 2n that
extraordinarily moving story, 6$ick doesn,t
once mention the word, 'olocaust; she
focuses on the conflicts of a mother and her
two daughters trying to survive the horrors
of death%camp internment. &hat,s what good
fiction does, and should do. .hen 2 want to
directly address the evil of racism, the
denying of civil rights to gay men and
women, etc., 2 prefer to do so in essays.
-s for providing the larger conte;t of
politics, class and race, 2,ve done that from
my first novel on. 2n The Tiger!s 3aughter ,
individual actions are shaped by, andUor
reactions to, the Naxalite revolution in
(alcutta, and the imminence of the
establishment of a +arxist government in
.est 7engal state. 2n Wife , 3imple
experiences racist discrimination in a
Wueens shop, gendrist discrimination at
home, and classist discrimination at
meetings with white feminists. 2 *ust wish
that scholars would go back to reading the
primary texts before presuming to make
MmisNpronouncements on themL
2n terms of psychic violence and female
sexuality, 2 grew up at a time and in a class
in (alcutta when you couldn,t say the word
/sex.1 2,d never said the word /sex1 and we
certainly were not allowed to think of it; 2
didn,t even know how the male anatomy was
constructed. "o for me or for my characters
who are coming not from villages but upper%
class, urban 2ndian settings, sexuality
becomes the mode of resistance or a way to
rebel. -fter all, if you,re coming out of a
society where sex is the unspeakable, the
unutterable, then doing it or acknowledging
your sexuality results not only in individual
rebellion but actually constitutes an attack
on a whole patriarchal, <ictorian,
hypocritical society. -nd why psychic
violence0 Ultimately, physical in*uries are
less affecting than the wounds inside. You
lose a leg, you get a prosthetic. 7ut what do
you do about the scarred psyche0
3. <4 You,ve written elsewhere about the need
to /make the familiar exotic and the exotic
familiar.1
4. M4 Yes, to bring out the luminosity in the
most banal moment, and to elicit sympathy
for the least familiar character.
5. <4 7y privileging psychic as opposed to
physical violence, does your work implicitly
cultivate an /aesthetici$ation1 of violence0
For example, violence appears to be
somewhat /benign1 in its after%effects on
asmineGshe doesn,t seem to bear too many
psychic or physical scars from her traumatic
experiences with "uki and 'alf%Face.
"imilarly, in The 4older , violence seems to
be surprisingly positive in its effects on
'annah, transforming her in its crucible
from an /unfinished, unformed1 woman into
/a goddess%in%the%making.1 &o borrow the
structural trope of The 4older , is the
violence you write about somehow like the
/virtual reality1 7eigh experiences,
transformative and enlightening to be sure,
but somehow less than /real10
6. M4 First of all, before 2 get to the idea of
virtual reality and violence, 2 want you to
come to the kitchen with me. &his is
9oddess :ali, the image of the 9odhead as
3estroyer. &he 9odhead as :ali is what 2
worship. +ost 'indu 7engalis in (alcutta
do. +ost 'indu 7engali families have an
altar to 'er in their homes. 2 do; in my
bedroom. You can see for yourself that :ali
isn,t one bit passive. "he has strung 'erself
a garland of severed heads, and "he,s hefting
'er blood%stained weapons to decapitate
more evil men. :ali is what asmine was
mythologi$ing herself into when she killed
her rapist, 'alf%Face. 2n (hristianity,
humans are made in the image of 9od. 7ut
in 'induism, all creatures are
manifestations of the 9odhead. .hy doesn,t
asmine agoni$e more over having killed the
man who brutali$ed her0 .hy is her
127
reaction /benign10 'er goal is the 'indu
ideal of non%attachment. &o allow oneself to
be utterly destroyed by the violence done to
her and done by her would be to fall victim
to maya. You,ve read 8.:. Narayan,s The
2uide ; you,re familiar with the 'indu
concept of non%attachment. &he difficult feat
for the 'indu -merican writer is to
dramati$e the benignity of non%attachment
without making characters appear uncaring
or grimly stoic.
V. Writing and Technology
7. <4 (onsidering the potential violence of
representation, do you see writingGor
virtual technology, in the case of 7eigh
becoming 7hagmati in The 4olderGas a
violent medium0
*. M4 2 don,t know if 2 think of the medium as
violence. 2t,s certainly a medium that forces
the author and the reader to take enormous
risks, to expose oneself to emotions one
would rather avoid.
+. <4 .ell, you have talked about the physical
and psychic violence that necessarily
accompanies transformation for the
immigrant. 9iven the transformative
capability of technological developments in
writing, has your own evolution as a writer
been marked by epistemological violence0
1,. M4 2 have no idea. 2 started with orality. 2
come from a culture where grandmothers
and mothers tell endless stories. &here
wasn,t a single night that 2 didn,t fall asleep
to my mother telling stories at dinner%time.
.e sat on raffia mats on the floor and ate off
brass plates. "he mashed rice and fish into
little balls and fed me, !uite literally, with
her fingers while she told me stories from
the historical novels or biographies that
she,d read. "tories about +arie -ntoinette,
Napoleon, +ary Wueen of "cots. 7igger than
life characters and adventures. 2 marvel at it
now4 my mother putting food into my mouth
and, simultaneously, putting the wonder of
narrative into my head.
2t was by listening that 2 visuali$ed and was
mesmeri$ed by conflict, by character, by
romance, whatever. 2 started to read and
write very earlyG2 was in regular school by
the age of threeGand at that time, we used
pens that you dip into an inkwell. 2 don,t
know if that was violence, but you did
immediately start thinking in wholly
different ways and the scratchingG2 can still
see the blots of ink, the scratching on the
paperGslows you down, but also gives you
time to think. &hen my relationship to story
again became very different when we
graduated by age nine to fountain pens.
-lso, the paper was so different over there;
you could see bugs worked into the fabric, or
big seams... the paper was rough and pocked
with shiny bits. "eeing whether the pen nib
would go over the shiny impurities or not
resulted in a wholly different way of dealing
with orthography and a different mental
process which accompanies the writing of
stories. &here wasn,t ever a time that 2 can
remember when 2 wasn,t writing stories and
2 remember what a big breakthrough it was
when my father brought back ballpoint pens
from #aris. &hey all melted in the heat but
you could write so much fasterL &hat was
very empowering, and 2 went straight from
that in the "tates to typewriter and when 2
started thinking on electric typewriter,
again, suddenly my relationship with the
word, and therefore with narrative, became
very, very different, more conscious.
2f by /technological developments in
writing1 you mean the availability of
computers, software, data storage and
retrieval facilities, information%design
programs, virtual reality, etc., then 2 have to
confess that technology has been for me a
means of exploring and expanding
knowledge without losing the writerly sense
of wonder. (lark and 2 were among the very
first batch of -merican writers to get into
computers.
11. <4 6h, really0
12. M4 Yes. 2n fact, (lark was on a program on
N#8 to discuss the ways in which the form
and the process of writing has changed as a
result of his switch to the word%processor.
&echnology has broken down linear thought
as well as linear plot%movement. 2 don,t
think of technology as an enemy of -rt.
&echnology serves the artist.
13. <4 &hat sentiment is consistent with your
writing in The 4older , where technology is
employed throughout as a literary and
thematic device. Nevertheless, the novel
implies that such media are only actuali$ed
through data%gathering by sensitive and
careful human beings like 7eigh, people who
have a personal investment in such pro*ects.
For example, <enn, who tries to experience
the past using the interactive computer
program, ends up with nothing more than a
/postcard view of modern +adras1; he can,t
access the experience 7eigh can, in large
part because he hasn,t cultivated the kind of
sensitivity that she has from tracing
'annah,s life. &he technology acts as a
/gatekeeper1 of sorts, which we find very
interesting, especially when considering how
technology structures First and &hird .orld
relationships of power and hierarchy.
14. M4 &o me, creative imagination is the
/gatekeeper.1 &he technician downloads a
statistics%rich experience; the artist, using
the same program, wrests a vision. -nd each
time you use that program, you learn or dis%
learn some element because /you1 are made
up of a series of fluid identities. "imilarly,
12*
each time you read The 4older , 2 hope you
come up with new insights.
2,m not sure 2 agree with you that technology
privileges /First1 .orld over /&hird.1 +uch
of the information transfer and accounting
for U.". corporations and mega%
multinationals with 5uropean head!uarters
is done offshore, meaning in areas that you
are designating as /&hird.1 2,ve done
homework on this. 2t,s class , not geography,
that,s providing the hierarchy grid. Urban,
upper%middle classes and professionals in
7ombay, "ingapore, 'ong :ong, +anila,
etc. have all the latest electronics and
communications instruments. 7ut the poor
and the homeless in all areas of the world,
including North -merica, are increasingly
disempowered by technological advances.
Your !uestion seems to arise from the need
of postcolonial studies scholars to impose
politics as the dominant grid for measuring
art. 7ut for the writer of serious fiction,
politics or race or gender is only one element
of many hundred elements that go into the
making of a character. Novelists aim for
fullness of catharsis, not a political
pamphlet.
15. <4 Yet, isn,t it difficult to separate the
aesthetic from the political0 For example,
two reviews suggest that while the use of
virtual reality is a clever device in The
4older , the representation of =Fth%century
2ndiaGwith its /excessive1 emphasis on
violence and ornamentationGironically
reduplicates exotici$ed representations of
2ndia found in colonialist texts and period
pieces Isee :oshy and #arameswaranJ.
&hese reviewers argue that any attempt to
alter or deconstruct such representations
through the use of virtual reality is
undermined by your perhaps unconscious
kinship with 6rientalists of the past. 'ow do
you respond to such charges, and upon
reflection, do you wish you,d used /virtual
reality1 any differently0
16. M4 -bsolutely not. 6ne, this is not a book
about 2ndia, but about the making of
-merica and -merican national mythology.
&hat,s why 2 used the two women characters,
'annah the pre%-merica -merican, and
7eigh, the post%de5uropeani$ed -merican,
to dramati$e the need to redefine what it
means to be an /-merican1 in the =>>Ds.
&wo, 2,m sure the two reviewers you are
referring to haven,t done eleven years of
research into mercantilism in =Fth%century
2ndia as 2 have. (rucial new material on
=Fth%century trade, especially on intra%-sian
trade, has been published in the early =>>Ds
by 2ndian and "ri Lankan scholars. "o it,s
simply ignorance of 2ndian mercantile and
military histories on the part of these two
reviewers. &hat,s what 2 find most
frustrating about being a scholarUwriter4
that academics and *ournalists with
insufficient knowledge of the contextual
material have the audacity to make such
public pronouncementsL 2 don,t know where
this animus comes from. .hy is it so hard
for them to deal with impassioned, well%
researched, provocative fiction by a woman
author0
17. <4 #art of these critics, suggestions, though,
is that despite careful research, your
revisions of colonialist or orientalist
accounts of the seventeenth century are not
substantive enough.
1*. M4 +y suggestion to them is that they bring
greater intelligence and sensitivity to bear
on the act of reading literature, including
The 4older.
1+. <4 &his is a book about the process of history
making, specifically about the /-merican1
way of making and re%making history. Yet,
one might argue that the representations of
Native -mericans in the early sections of the
novel set in #uritan New 5ngland perhaps
unwittingly repeat the imperialist tendencies
of many colonial and nineteenth%century
-merican texts. "pecifically, the
miscegenetic encounter between 8ebecca
and her Nipmuc lover recalls similar
encounters depicted in novels by
nineteenth%century New 5ngland women,
including Lydia (hild,s 4o*omo and +aria
"edgwick,s 4o&e $eslie. 2n those works,
such encounters are subversive to the extent
that they allow for a female voice to emerge
and suggest possible /new1 alliances
between women and Native -mericans. Yet
the Native -merican never really /speaks1 in
these novels... a romantici$ed version does,
and thus these amorous encounters serve,
one could argue, merely to empower and
exotici$e colonial and nineteenth%century
-nglo%-merican women at the expense of
Native -mericans.
2,. M4 .ell, in my novel, 2 have 8ebecca,s bi%
racial children very much alive and present
to recount their own tales when they are
ready to. 8ebecca,s Nipmuc lover has several
prototypes in history, of course. 2,ll leave it
to other authors to write the lover,s story.
-ctually 2,m very interested in writing :ing
#hilip,s story from his point of view some
day. -n author focuses on a few individual
characters, and hopes that a larger frisson of
emotion and revelation comes across to the
reader. 2 would be guilty of bad writing if 2
insisted on making 8ebecca,s lover stand for
all Nipmucs let alone for all original
-mericans, or 7hagmati all 'indu women.
+argaret -twood has written4 /You tell the
story you have to tell; let others tell the story
that they have to tell.1 +y message to these
academics4 8ead the story that 2 have told in
The 4older ; don,t fabricate a story that 2
didn,t tell, but that you need to pretend 2 did
so that you can distort the text into a
convenient target of hate. 2,ve been !uoted
12+
in an article in 4ar&er!s as saying these
postcolonial scholars are /assassins of the
imagination.1
21. <4 .hile we certainly do not intend to
/assassinate the imagination,1 we would
argue that by relegating 8ebecca,s bi%racial
children to the margins of the text as
unspeaking sub*ects, their narratives, as is
the case in much colonial -merican writing,
are endlessly deferred. Nonetheless, we feel
that much of the richness and strength of
the novel derives from the interventions you
make in the captivity narrative tradition and
the /canon1 of =>th%century -merican
literature.
22. M4 .ell, perhaps next time you read The
4older you,ll have new /takes1 on the
significance of my meta%fictional use of
"ita,s, 7hagmati,s, and 'annah,s /captivity
narratives.1
23. <4 2n conclusion, we,d like to go back to the
idea of +ughal painting you articulated
earlier as a governing aesthetic in your
writing. You,ve said that /2 will be writing, in
the +ughal style, till 2 get it right1 I/Four%
'undred Year 6ld .oman1 K@J. The 4older
seems to be very much predicated upon
/+ughal aesthetics.1 2t seems to be an
excellent example of the /complication1 and
/elaboration1 of +ughal miniature painting
and reflects the /sense of the
interpenetration of all things1 which you
have identified as a compelling aspect of
such an aesthetic. 'aving said all that, have
you finally /gotten it right10 -nd if so, where
are you going from here0
24. M4 .ho knows0 &he characters surprised
me draft by draft; the structure of the novel
evolved almost in spite of myself. 2 should
add that my structures are also inspired by
my obsession with chaos theory and fractals.
2n fact, a couple of 5uropean scholars have
published essays on the operation of chaos
theory in <asmine. .here am 2 going0 2
don,t want to know too far ahead.
Bibliography
-hmad, -i*a$. 7n Theory' -lasses, Aations,
$iteratures. London and New York4 <erso,
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.e .ere,4 <asmine and the <iolence of
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#tories Mean. 5rin, 6ntario4 #orcupine,s
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+ukher*ee, 7harati. 3arness. +arkham,
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+ukher*ee, 7harati, and (lark 7laise. 3ays
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'ungry +ind #ress, =>>?.
G%. The #orrow and the Terror' The
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+arkham, 6ntario4 <iking #enguin, =>@F.
+ukher*ee, 7harati, and 8obert 7oyers. /-
(onversation with <.". Naipaul.1
#almagundi ?DG?= IFall =>@D%.inter
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#arameswaran, Uma. 8ev. of The 4older of
the World, by 7harati +ukher*ee. World
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"pivak, 9ayatri (hakravorty. /&he #roblem
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13,
131
132
133
7
.ee 8mith
Bernard Malamud

L.. SMITH
Intensi'e Care
L55 "+2&' A1+44EB !re# u% an only child in Grundy/
@ir!inia A%o%ulation 2/,,,B/ an isolated mountain community
in the #estern %art o& the state. 8he attended 0ollins Colle!e in
<oano2e/ @ir!inia/ #here she !raduated #ith a (achelor$s
de!ree. 8he has (een the reci%ient o& many a#ards and honors/
includin! the <o(ert :enn 5arren :ri;e &or Fiction A1++1B/ the
8ir 5alter <alei!h 1#ard A1+*+B/ rhe "ohn -os :assos 1#ard
&or .iterature A1+*7B/ and the 4orth Carolina 1#ard &or Fiction
A1+*4B. 8he also #on the 1++4 .ila 5allaceC<eader$s -i!est
5riters$ 1#ard and rhe &i&th annual "ohn 5illiam Corrin!xon
1#ard &or .iterary 3xcellence. 8mith is the author o& ei!ht
noels/ $he &a%t Day the Do"'it%he% #loomed, (omethin" in
the )ind, *ancy (trut, #lac+ ,ountain #rea+down, -ral
.i%tory, *amily &inen, *air and $ender &adie%, and $he
Devil/% Dream0 and three story collections/ ,e and ,y #a'y
1ieiu the 2clip%e, Ca+ewal+, and 3ew% o4 the (pirit! .ee 8mith
lies in 4orth Carolina.
(herry 6xendine is dying now, and everybody knows
it. 5verybody in town except maybe her new husband,
'arold "tikes, although Lord knows he ought to, itAs as
plain as the nose on your face. -nd itAs not like he
hasnAt been told either, by both 3r. &hacker and 3r.
#inckney and also that hotshot young ew doctor from
+emphis, 3r. "hapiro, who comes over here once a
week. B'arold *ust canAt take it in,B is what the head
nurse in 2ntensive (are, Lois 'ickey, said in the
7eauty Nook last week. Lois ought to know. "heAs been
right there during the past six weeks while (herry
6xendine has been in 2ntensive (are, writing down
(herryAs blood pressure every hour on the hour,
changing bags on the 2<, checking the stomach tube,
moving the bed up and down to prevent bedsores,
monitoring the respiratorGand calling in 8odney
7roadbent, the respiratory therapist, more and more
fre!uently. B'er blood gases is not but twenty%eight,B
Lois said in the 7eauty Nook. B2fB we was to unhook
that respirator, sheAd die in a day.B
B2 would go on and do it then, it 2 was 'arold.B said
+rs. 'ooker, the #resbyterian ministerAs wife, who
was getting a permanent. B2t is the (hristian thing.B
BYou wouldnAt either.B Lois said, Bbecause she still
nows him. &hatAs the awful part. "he still knows him.
2n tact she peps right up ever time he comes in, like
they are going on a date or something. 2tAs the saddest
thing. -nd ever time we open the doors, here comes
'arold, regular as clockwork. 5ight oAclock, one
oAclock, six oAclock, eight oAclock, why shoot, heAd stay
in there all day and all night if weAd let him. .ell, she
opens her mouth and says 4i honey, you can tell what
sheAs saying even if she canAt make a sound. -nd her
eyes get real bright and her face looks pretty good too,
thatAs because of the Lasix, only 'arold donAt know
.that. 'e *ust canAt take it all in,B Lois said.
B6h, 2 feel so sorry for him,B said +rs. 'ooker. 'er
tace is as round and flat as a dime.
B.ell, 2 donAt.B 3ot +ains, owner of the 7eauty
Nook, started cutting Lois 'ickeyAs hair. Lois wears it
too short, in 3otAs opinion. B2 certainly donAt feel sorry
for 'arold "tikes, after what he did.B 3ot snipped
decisively at Lois 'ickeyAs frosted hair. +rs. 'ooker
made a sad little sound, half sigh, half words, as anice
stuck her under the dryer, while +iss 7erry, the old%
maid home demonstration agent waiting for her
appointment, snapped the pages of -osmo&olitan
maga$ine one by one, blindly, filled with somewhat
gratuitous rage against the behavior of 'arold "tikes.
+iss 7erry is 'arold "tikesAs ex%wifeAs cousin. "o she
does not pity him, not one bit. 'e got whatAs coming to
him, thatAs all, in +iss 7erryAs opinion. +ost people
donAt. 2tAs a pleasure to see it, but +iss 7erry would
never say this out loud since (herry 6xendine is of
course dying. (herry 6xendineL Like it was yesterday,
+iss 7erry remembers how (herry 6xendine acted in
high school, wearing her skirts too tight, popping her
gum.
B&he doctors canAt do a thing,B said Lois 'ickey.
"ilence settled like fog then on the 7eauty Nook, on
+iss 7erry and her maga$ine, on 3ot +ains cutting
Lois 'ickeyAs hair, on little anice thinking about her
boyfriend 7ruce, and on +rs. 'ooker crying gently
under the dryer. "uddenly, 3ot remembered
134
something her old granny used to say about such
momenrs of sudden absolute !uiet4 B-n angel is
passing over.B
-fter a while, +rs. 'ooker said, B2tAs all in the
hands ot 9od, then.B "he spread out her fingers one by
one on the tray, for anice to give her a manicure.
-nd as for 'arold "tikes, heAs not even considering
9od. 6h, he doesnAt interfere when +r. 'ooker comes
by the hospital once a day to check on himG
'arold was a #resbyterian in his former liteGor
even when the 7aptist preacher from (herryAs
mamaAs church shows up and insists that everybody
in the whole waiting room *oin hands and bow heads
in prayer while he raises his big red face and curly
gray head straight up to heaven and prays in a loud
voice that 9od will heal these loved ones who walk
through the <alley of 3eath, and comfort these others
who watch, through their hour ot need. &his includes
+rs. 5unice "prayberry, whose mother has had a
stroke, ohn and #aula 8ipman, whose infant son is
dying of encephalitis, and different others who drift in
and out of 2ntensive (are following surgery or wrecks.
'arold is losing track. 'e closes his eyes and bows his
head, figuring it canAt hurt, like taking out insurance.
7ut deep down inside, he knows that it 9od is worth
'is salt, 'e is not impressed by the prayer of 'arold
"tikes, who knowingly gave up all hope of peace on
earth and heaven hereafter for the love ot (herry
6xendine.
Not to mention his family.
'e gave them up too.
7ut this morning when he leaves the hospital alter
his eight%oAclock visit to (herry, 'arold finds himself
turning left out of the lot instead of right toward Food
Lion, his store. 'arold finds himself taking =?%?D= *ust
south of town and then driving through those ornate
marble gates that mark the entrance to (amelot 'ills,
his old neighborhood. "ome lucky instinct makes him
pull into the little park and stop there, beside the
pond. 'ere comes his ex%wife, oan, driving the
'onda -ccord he paid for last year. oan looks straight
ahead. "heAs still wearing her shiny blond hair in the
pageboy sheAs worn ever since 'arold met her at
+ercer (ollege so many years ago. 'arold is sure sheAs
wearing low heels and a shirtwaist dress. 'e knows
her briefcase is in the backseat, containing lesson
plans for today, yogurt, and a banana. #otassium is
important. 'arold has heard this a million times.
7ehind her, the beds are all made, the breakfast dishes
stacked in the sink. -s a home ec teacher, oan
believes that breakfast is the most important meal of
the day. &he two younger children, 7renda and
'arold r., are alreadv on the bus to the -cademy.
ames rides to the high school with his mother, hair
wet, tace blank, staring straight ahead. &hey donAt see
'arold. oan brakes at the stop sign before entering
=?%?D=. "he always comes to a complere stop, even if
nothingAs coming. -lways. "he looks both ways. &hen
sheAs gone.
'arold drives past well%kepr lawn after well%kept
lawn and lovely house after lovely house, many of
them houses where 'arold has attended (ub "cout
meetings, eaten barbecue, watched bowl games. Now
these houses have a blank, closed look to them, like
mean faces. 'arold turns left on 6xford, then right on
"hrewsbury. 'e comes to a stop beside the curb at
==D? (ambridge and *ust sits rhere with the motor
running, looking ar the house. 'is house. &he Wueen
-nne house he and oan planned so carefully, down to
the last detail, the fish%scale siding. &he house he is
still paying for and will be until his dying day, if oan
has her way about it.
.hich she will, of course. 5verybody is on her side4
desertion. 'arold "tikes deserted his lovely wife and
three children for a redheaded waitress. For a fallen
woman with a checkered past. 'arold can hear her
now. B2 fail to see why 2 and the children should lower
our standards of living, 'arold, and go to the dogs *ust
because you have chosen to become insane in mid%
life.B oanAs voice is slow and amiable. 2t has a down%
to%earth !uality which used to appeal to 'arold but
now drives him wild. 'arold sits at the curb with the
motor running and looks at his house good. 2t looks
fine. 2t looks *ust like it did when they picked it out of
the pages of #outhern $iving and wrote off for the
plans. &he only difference is, that house was in "tone
+ountain, 9eorgia, and this house is in 9reenwood,
+ississippi. 7ig deal.
oanAs response to 'aroldAs desertion has been a
surprise to him. 'e expected tears, recriminations,
fireworks. 'e did not expect her calm, reasonable
manner, treating 'arold the way she treats the
+ormon missionaries who come to the door in their
black suits, for instance, that very calm sweet careful
voice. oan acts like 'aroldAs desertion is nothing
much. -nd nothing much appears to have changed for
her except the loss of 'aroldAs actual presence, and
this cannot be a very big deal since everything else has
remained exactly the same.
.hat the hell. -fter a while 'arold turns off the
motor and walks up the flagstone walk to the front
door. 'is key still fits. -ll the furniture is arranged
exactly the way it was arranged four years ago. &he
only thing that ever changes here is the display of
maga$ines on the glass coffee table before the
fireplace, oan keeps them up to date. Aewswee,
Aational 2eogra&hic, 2ood 4ouseee&ing, 2ourmet.
2tAs a mostly educational grouping, unlike what (herrv
readsGParade, -oronet, Aational EnFuirer. Now
these maga$ines litter the floor at the side of the bed
like little souvenirs of (herry. 'arold canAt stand to
pick them up.
'e sits down heavily on the white sofa and stares at
the coffee table. 'e remembers the !ui$ and the day he
found it, four years ago now although it feels like only
yesterday, funny thing though that he canAt remember
which maga$ine it was in. +aybe Reader/s 3igest. &he
!ui$ was titled B'ow 9ood 2s Your +arriage0B and
'arold noticed that oan had filled it in carefully. &his
did not surprise him. oan was so law%abiding, such a
goodgirl, that she always filled in such !ui$$es when
she came across them, as if she had to, before she
135
could go ahead and finish the maga$ine. Usually
'arold didnAt pay much attention.
&his time, he picked the maga$ine up and started
reading. 6ne of the !uestions said4 B.hat is your idea
of the perfect vacation0 IaJ a romantic getaway for you
and your spouse alone; IbJ a family trip to the beach;
IcJ a business convention; IdJ an organi$ed tour of a
foreign land.B oan had wavered on this one. "he had
marked and then erased Ban organi$ed tour of a
foreign land.B Finally she had settled on Ba family trip
to the beach.B 'arold skimmed along. &he final
!uestion was4 B.hen you think of the love between
yourself and your spouse, do you think of IaJ a great
passion; IbJ a warm, meaningful companionship; IcJ
an average love; IdJ an unsatisfying habit.B oan had
marked BIcJ an average love.B 'arold stared at these
words, knowing they were true. -n average love,
norhing great, an average marriage between an
average man and woman. "uddenly, strangely, 'arold
was filled with rage.
B2t is not enoughLB 'e thought he actually said these
words our loud. #erhaps he did say them out loud,
into the clean hushed air%conditioned air of his
average home. 'aroldAs rage was followed by a brief
period, maybe five minutes, of unbearable longing,
after which he simply closed rhe maga$ine and put it
back on the table and got up and poured himself a stiff
shot of bourbon. 'e stood for a while before the
picture window in the living room, looking out at his
even green grass, his clipped hedge, and the impatiens
blooming in its bed, the clematis climbing the mailbox.
&he colors of the world fairly leaped at himGthe sky so
blue, the grass so green. - passing *oggerAs shorts
glowed unbearably red. 'e felt that he had never seen
any of these things before. Yet in another way it all
seemed so familiar as to be an actual part of his bodyG
his throat, his heart, his breath. 'arold rook another
drink. &hen he went out and played nine holes of golf
at the country club with 7ubba Fields, something he
did every .ednesday afternoon. 'e shot @H.
7y the time he came home for dinner he was okay
again. 'e was very tired and a little lightheaded, all his
muscles tingling. 'is face was hot. Yet 'arold felt
vaguely pleased with himself, as if he had been
through something and come out the other side of it,
as if he had done a creditable *ob on a difficult
assignment. 7ut right then, during dinner, 'arold
could not have told you exactly what had happened to
him that dacA, or why he felt this way. 7ecause the
mind will forget what it canAt stand to remember, and
anyway the "tikeses had beef "troganoff that night, a
new recipe that oan was testing for the unior League
cookbook, and 'arold r. had written them a funny
letter from camp, and for once 7renda did not whine..
ames, who was twelve that year, actually
condescended to talk to his father, with some degree of
interest, about baseball, and after supper was over he
and 'arold went out and pitched to each other until it
grew dark and lightning bugs emerged. &his is how itAs
supposed to be, 'arold rhought, father and son
playing carch in the twilight.
&hen he went upstairs and *oined oan in bed to
watch &<, after which they turned out the light and
made love. 7ut oan had greased herself all over with
6il of 6lay, earlier, and right in the middle of doing it,
'arold got a cra$y terrified feeling that he was losing
her, that oan was slipping, slipping away.
7ut time passed, as it does, and 'arold forgot that
whole weird day, forgot it until right now, in fact, as
he sits on the white sofa in his old house again and
stares at the maga$ines on the coffee table, those
maga$ines so familiar except for the date, which is four
years later. Now 'arold wonders4 2f he hadnAt picked
up that !ui$ and read it, would he have even noticed
when (herry 6xendine spooned out that potato salad
for him six months later, in his own Food Lion deli0
B.ould the sight of redheaded (herry 6xendine, the
Food Lion smock mostly obscuring her dynamite
figure, have hit him like a bolt out of the blue the way
it did0
(herry herself does not believe there is any such
thing as coincidence. (herry thinks there is a master
plan for the universe, and what is meant to happen
will. "he thinks itAs all set in the stars. For the first
time, 'arold thinks maybe sheAs right. 'e sees part of
a pattern in the works, but dimly, as if he is looking at
a constellation hidden by clouds. +ainly, he sees her
face.
'arold gets up from rhe sofa and goes into the
kitchen, suddenly aware that he isnAt supposed to be
here. 'e could be arrested, probablyL 'e looks back at
the living room but thereAs not a trace of him left, not
even an imprint on the soft white cushions of the sofa.
-bsentmindedly, 'arold opens and shuts the
refrigerator door. &hereAs no beer, he notices. 'e canAt
have a (oke. 6n the kitchen calendar, he reads4
'arold r to
dentist, K4KD
p.m. &ues
(hange furnace
filter HU=@U@@
IamesJ
"o ames is changing the furnace filters now, ames is
the man of the house. .hy not0 2tAs good for him. 'eAs
been given too much, kids these days grow up so fast,
no responsibilities, they get on drugs, you read about it
all the time. 7ut deep down inside, 'arold knows that
ames is not on drugs and he feels something awful,
feels the way he felt growing up, that sick little flutter
in his stomach that took years to go away.
'aroldAs dad died of walking pneumonia when he
was only three, so his mother raised him alone. "he
called him her Blittle man.B &his made 'arold feel
proud but also wild, like a boy growing up in a cage.
3oes ames feel this way now0 'arold suddenly
decides to get ames a car for his birthday, and take
him hunting.
'unting is something 'arold never did as a boy,
but it means a lot to him now. 2n fact 'arold never
owned a gun until he was thirty%one, when he bought a
shotgun in order to accept the invitation of his
regional manager, BLitde immyB Fletcher, to go !uail
136
hunting in 9eorgia. 'e had a great time. Now heAs
invited back every year, and Little immy is in charge
of the cornpanyAs whole eastern division. 'arold has a
great future with Food Lion too. 'e owns three stores,
one in downtown 9reenwood, one out at the mall, and
one over in 2ndianola. 'e owned two of them when his
mother died, and heAs pleased to think that she died
proudGprotid of the good little boy heAd always been,
and the good man heAd become.
6f course sheAd wanted him to make a preacher, but
'arold never got the call, and she gave that up finally
when he was twenty. 'arold was not going to pretend
to get the call if he never got it, and he held strong to
this principle. 'e wanted to see a burning bush, but if
this was not vouchsafed to him, he wasnAt going to lie
about it. 'e would *ust ma*or in math instead, which
he was good at anyway. +a*oring in math at +ercer
(ollege, the small 7aptist school his mother had
chosen for him, 'arold came upon oan 7erry, a home
ec ma*or from his own hometown who set out single%
mindedlv to marry him, which wasnAt hard. -fter
graduation, 'arold got a *ob as management trainee in
the Food Lion store where he had started as a bagboy
at fourteen. oan produced their three children,
spaced three years apart, and got her tubes tied.
'arold got one promotion, then another. oan and
'arold prospered. &hey built rhis house.
'arold looks around and now this house, his house,
strikes him as creepy, a wax museum. 'e lets himself
out the back door and walks !uickly, almost runs, to
his car. 2tAs real cold out, a gray day in February, but
'aroldAs sweating. 'e starts his car and roars off
roward the hospital, drivingGas (herry would sayG
like a bat out of hell.
&heyAre letting 'arold sray with her longer now. 'e
knows it, they know it, but nobody says a word. Lois
'ickey *usr looks the other way when the
announcement B<isiting hours are overB crackles
across the #-. 2s this a good sign or a bad sign0 'arold
canAt tell. 'e feels slow and confused, like a man
underwater. B2 think she looks better, donAt you0B he
said last night to (herryAs son "tan, the &<
weatherman, who had driven down from +emphis for
the day. 5yes slick and bright with tears, "tan went
over to 'arold and hugged him tight. &his scared
'arold to death, he has practically never touched his
own sons, and he doesnAt even now "tan, whoAs been
grown and gone for years. 'arold is not used to
hugging anybody, especially men. 'arold breathed in
"tanAs strong go%get%Aem cologne, he buried his face in
"tanAs long curly hair. 'e thinks it is possible that "tan
has a permanent. &heyAll do anything up in +emphis.
&hen "tan stepped back and put one hand on each of
'aroldAs shoulders, holding him out at armAs length.
"tan has his motherAs wide, mobile mouth. &he bright
white light of 2ntensive (are glinted off the gold chain
and the crystal that he wore around his neck. B2Am
afraid weAre going to lose her, #op,B he said.
7ut 'arold doesnAt think so. &oday he thinks (herry
looks the best sheAs looked in weeks, with a bright spot
of color in each cheek to match her flaming hair. "heAs
moving around a lot too, she keeps kicking the sheet
off.
B"heAs getting back some of that old energy now,B he
tells (herryAs daughter, &ammy Lynn #alladino, when
she comes by after school. &ammy Lynn and 'aroldAs
son ames are both members of the senior class, but
they arenAt friends. &ammy Lynn says ames is a
Bstuck%up *ock,B a Bpreppie,B and a Bcountry%clubber.B
'arold canAt say a word to defend his own son against
these charges, he doesnAt even now ames anymore.
2t might be true, anyway. &ammy Lynn is real smart, a
teenage egghead. "heAs got a full scholarship to
+illsaps (ollege for next year. "he applied for it all by
herself. -s (herry used to say, &ammy Lynn came into
this world with a full deck of cards and an ace or two
up her sleeve. -lso she looks out for Number 6ne.
2n this regard &ammy Lynn is as different from her
mama as night from day, because (herry would give
you the shirt off her back and fre!uently has. &hatAs
gotten her into lots of trouble. .ith 5d #alladino, for
instance, her second husband and &ammy LynnAs dad.
ust about everybody in this town got took by 5d
#alladino, who came in here wearing a seersucker suit
and talking big about putting in an outlet mall across
the river. - lot of people got burned on that outlet mall
deal. 7ut 5d #alladino had a way about him that made
you want to cast your lot with his, it is true. You
wanted to give 5d #alladino your savings, your time%
sharing condo, your cousin, your ticket to the "uper
7owl. (herry gave it all.
"he married him and turned over what little
inheritance she had from her daddyAs deathGand
thatAs the only time in her life she ever had any money,
mind youGand then she *ust shrugged and smiled her
big crooked smile when he left town under cover of
night. 1-/est la vie,1 (herry said. "he donated the rest
of his clorhes to the "alvation -rmy. 1Gue sera, serd,1
(herry said, !uoting a song that was popular when she
was in *unior high.
&ammy Lynn sits by her mamaAs bed and holds
(herryAs thin dry hand. B2 brought you a (hick%Fil%-,B
she says to 'arold. B2tAs over there in that bag.B "he
points to the shelf by the door. 'arold nods. &ammy
Lynn works at (hick%Fil%-. (herryAs eyes are wide and
blue and full of meaning as she stares at her daughter.
'er mouth moves, both 'arold and &ammy Lynn lean
forward, but then her mouth falls slack and her eyelids
flutter shut. &ammy sits back.
B2 think she looks some better today, donAt you0B
'arold asks.
BNo,B &ammy Lynn says. "he has a flat little redneck
voice. "he sounds *ust the way she did last summer
when she told (herry that what she saw in the field
was a cotton picker working at night, and not a UF6
after all. B2 wish 2 did but 2 donAt, 'arold. 2Am going to
go on home now and heat up some 7eanee .eenee for
+amaw. You come on as soon as you can.B
B.ell,B 'arold says. 'e feels like things have gotten
all turned around here some way, he feels like heAs the
kid and &ammy Lynn has turned into a freaky little
grown%up. 'e says, B2All be along directly.B
137
7ut they both know he wonAt leave until Lois 'ickey
throws him out. -nd speaking of Lois, as soon as
&ammy Lynn takes off, here she comes again, checking
something on the respirator, making a little clucking
sound with her mouth, then whirling to leave. .hen
Lois walks, her panty girdle goes swish, swish, sivish
at the top of her legs. "he comes right back with the
young black man named 8odney 7roadbent,
8espiratory &herapist. 2t says so on his badge. 8odney
wheels a complicated%looking cart ahead of himself.
'eAs all built up, like a weightlifter.
B'ow you doing tonight, +r. "tipe0B 8odney says.
B2 think sheAs some better,B 'arold says.
Lois 'ickey and 8odney look at him.
B.ell, lessee here,B 8odney says. 'e unhooks the
respirator tube at (herryAs throat, sticks the tube from
his own machine down the opening, and switches on
the machine.
2t makes a whirring sound. 2t looks like an electric
ice cream mixer. 8odney 7roadbent looks at Lois
'ickey in a significant way as she turns to leave the
room.
&hey donAt have to tell him, 'arold knows. (herry is
worse, not better. 'arold gets the (hick%Fil%-,
unwraps it, eats it, and then goes over to stand by the
window. 2tAs already getting dark. &he big mercury arc
light glows in the hospital parking lot. - little wind
blows some trash around on the concrete. 'e has had
(herry for three years, thatAs all. 6ne trip to 3isney
.orld, two vacations at 9ulf "hores, -labama,
hundreds of nights in the old metal bed out at the farm
with (herry sleeping naked beside him, her arm
thrown over his stomach. &hey had a million laughs.
B-lrightee,B 8odney 7roadbent nearly sings,
unhooking his machine. 'arold rurns to look at him.
8odney 7roadbent certainly looks more like a middle
linebacker than a respiratory therapist. 7ut 'arold
likes him.
B.ell, 8odney0B 'arold says.
8odney "tarrs shadow%boxing in the middle of the
room. B&ough times,B he says finally. B&hese is tough
times, +r. "tipe.B 'arold stares at him. 8odney is light
on his feet as can be.
'arold sits down in the chair by the respirator.
B.hat do you mean0B he asks.
B2 mean she is drowning, +r. "tipe,B 8odney says.
'e throws a punch which lands real close to 'aroldAs
left ear. B.hat 2Am doing here, see, is suctioning. 2Am
pulling all the fluid up our of her lungs. 7ut now looka
here, +r. "tipe, they is *ust too damn much of it. "ee
this little doohickey here 2Am measuring it with0 &his
here is the danger $one, man. Now +rs. "tipe, she has
been in the clanger $one for some time. &hey is *ust
too much damn fluid in there. .hat she got, anyway0
(ancer and pneumonia both, am 2 right0 .hat can 2
tell you, man0 "he is drowning.1 8odney gives 'arold
a short affectionate punch in the ribs, men wheels his
cart away. From the door, apparently struck by some
misgivings, he says, B.ell, man, if it was me, 2Ad want
to know what the story is, you follow me, man0 2f it
was me, what 2Am saying. 'arold canAt see 8odney
anymore, only hear his voice from the open door.
B&hank you, 8odney,B 'arold says. 'e sits in the
chair. 2n a way he has known this already, for !uite
some time. 2n a way, 8odneyAs news is no news, to
'arold. 'e *ust hopes he will be man enough to bear
it, to do what will have to be done. 'arold has always
been scared that he is not man enough for (herry
6xendine, anyway. &his is his worst secret fear. 'e
looks around the little 2ntensive (are room, searching
for a sign, some sign, anything, that he will be man
enough. Nothing happens. (herry lies strapped to the
bed, flanked by so many machines that it looks like
sheAs in the cockpit of a *et. 'er eyes are closed, eyelids
fluttering, red spots on her freckled cheeks. 'er chest
rises and falls as the respirator pushes air in and out
through the tube in her neck. 'e doesnAt see how she
can sleep in the bright white light of 2ntensive (are,
where it is always noon. -nd does she dream0 (herry
used to tell him her dreams, which were wild, long
&echnicolor dreams, like movies. (herry played
different parts in them. 2f you dream in color, it means
youAre intelligent, (herry said. "he used to tease him
all the time. "he thought 'aroldAs own dreams were a
stitch, dreams more boring than his life, dreams in
which heAd drive to ackson, say, or be washing his car.
B'arold0B 2tAs 8ay +uncey, manager of the Food
Lion at the mall.
B.hy, what are you doing over here, 8ay0B 'arold
asks, and then in a flash he nows, Lois 'ickey must
have called him, to make 'arold go on home.
B2 was >ust driin! (y and 6 thou!ht/ 0ey/ may(e 0arold and
me mi!ht run (y the 0oliday 6nn/ !et a (ite to eat.F <ay shi&ts &rom
&oot to &oot in the door#ay. 0e doesn$t come inside/ he$s not
su%%osed to/ no(ody (ut immediate &amily is allo#ed in 6ntensie
Care/ and 0arold$s !ladECherry #ould >ust die i& %eo%le she
(arely 2no#s/ li2e <ay Muncey/ !ot to see her loo2in! so (ad.
F4o/ <ay/ you !o on and eat/F 0arold says. F6 already ate. 6$m
leain! ri!ht no#/ any#ay.F
F5ell/ ho#$s the missus doin!GF <ay is a (i! man/ a&&licted
#ith (i!/ heay manners.
F8he$s dro#nin!/F 0arold says a(ru%tly. 8uddenly he
remem(ers Cherry in a #ater (allet at the to#n %ool/ it must hae
(een the summer o& >unior year/ Fourth o& "uly/ Cherry and the
other !irls &loatin! in a circle on their (ac2s to &orm a !iant &lo#er
Ele!s hi!h/ toes %ointed. 0arold doesn$r 2no# it #hen <ay
Muncey leaes. 7ut the #indo#/ the %ar2in! lot li!ht !lo#s li2e a
(i! &ull moon. .ois 0ic2ey comes in. FHou$e !ot to !o home
no#/ 0arold/F she says. F6$ll call i& there$s any chan!e.F 0e
remem(ers Cherry at Glass .a2e/ on the senior class %icnic.
Cherry$s !ettin! real a!itated no#/ she tosses her head (ac2 and
&orth/ moes her arms. 8he$d %ull out the tu(es i& she could. 8he
2ic2s o&& the sheet. 0er le!s are still !ood/ !reat le!s in &act/ the
le!s o& a (eauti&ul youn! #oman.
'arold at seventeen was tall and skinny, brown hair in
a soft flat crew cut, glasses with heavy black frames.
'is *eans were too short. 'e carried a %enCandC%encil set
in a clear %lastic case in his (reast %oc2et. 0arold and his (est
&riend/ Ben 0ill/ loo2ed so much ali2e that %eo%le had trou(le
tellin! them a%art. TheI$ did eeryrhin! to!ether. They (uilt model
roc2ets/ they read eerI$ science &iction (oo2 they could !et their
hands on/ they collected .ionel train %arts and Marel comics.
They loed su%erheroes #ith s%ecial %o#ers/ enormous (ein!s
#ho lea%ed across riers and oceans. 0arold$s &riendshi% #ith Ben
0ill 2e%t the a#&ul loneliness o& the only child at (ay/ and it also
2e%t him &rom hain! to tal2 to !irls. Hou couldn$t tal2 to those
13*
t#o/ not seriously. They #ere !i!!lin! and (um%in! into each
other all the time. They #ere immature.
8o it #as in Ben$s com%any that 0arold ex%erienced the most
%riate/ the most per%onal memory he has o& Cherry 7xendine in
hi!h school. 7h/ he also has those other memories you$d ex%ect/
the (i! %u(lic memories o& Cherry (ein! cro#ned Miss
Green#ood 0i!h A&or her talentJ she sur%rised eery(ody (y
recitin! F1(ou Ben 1dhemF in such a stirrin! #ay that there
#asn$t a dry eye in the #hole auditorium #hen she !ot throu!hB/ or
runnin! out onto the &ield ahead o& the team #ith the other
cheerleaders/ red curls &lyin!/ !reen and #hite s2irt #hirlin! out
around her hi%s li2e a (each um(rella #hen she turned a
cart#heel. 0arold noticed her then/ o& course. 0e noticed her #hen
she moed throu!h the cro#ded halls o& the hi!h school #ith her
#al2 rhat #as almost a %rance/ she %ut a little somethin! extra into
it/ all ri!hr. Flarold noticed Cherry 7xendine then in the #ay that
he noticed 8andra -ee on the coer o& a ma!a;ine/ or 1nnette
Funicello on American #and%tand!
7ut such girls were not for the likes of 'arold, and
'arold knew it. 9irls like (herry always had
boyfriends like Lamar #eebles, who was hersGa doc%
torAs son with a baby%blue convertible and plenty of
money. &hey used to drive around town in his car,
smoking cigarettes. 'arold saw them, as he carried
out grocery bags. 'e did not envy Lamar #eebles, or
wish he had a girl like (herry 6xendine. 6nly
something about them made him stand where he was
in rhe Food Lion lot, watching, until they had passed
from sight.
"o 'aroldAs close%up encounter with (herry was
unexpected. 2t took place at the senior class picnic,
where 'arold and 7en had been drinking beer all
afternoon. No alcohol was allowed at the senior class
picnic, but some of the more enterprising boys had
brought out kegs the night before and hidden them in
the woods. -nybody could go back there and pay some
money and get some beer. &he chaperones didnAt
know, or appeared not to know. 2n any case, the
chaperones all left at six oAclock, when the picnic was
officially over. "ome of the class members left then
too. &hen some of them came back with more beer,
more blankets. 2t was a free lake. Nobody could mae
you go home. Normally, 'arold and 7en would have
been among the first to leave, but because they had
had four beers apiece, and because this was the first
time they had ever had any beer ever, at all, they were
still down by the water, skipping rocks and waiting to
sober up so that they would not wreck 'aroldAs
motherAs green 9remlin on the way home. -ll the cool
kids were on the other side of the lake, listening to
transisror radios. &he sun went down. 7ullfrogs
started up. - mist came out all around the sides of the
lake. 2t was a cloudy, humid day anyway, not a great
day for a picnic.
B2f 9od is really 9od, how come 'e let 'imself get
crucified, is what 2 want to know,B 7en said. 7enAs
daddy was a 'oliness preacher, out in the county.
7ut 'arold heard something. B'ush, 7en,B he said.
B2f 2 was 9od 2 would go around and really kick
some ass,B 7en said.
'arold heard it again. 2t was almost too dark to see.
B3amn.B 2t was a girlAs voice, followed by a splash.
-ll of a sudden, 'arold felt sober. B.hoAs there0B he
asked. 'e stepped forward, right up to the waterAs
edge. "omebody was in the water. 'arold was wearing
his swim trunks under his *eans, but he had not gone
in the water himself. 'e couldnAt stand to show
himself in front of people. 'e thought he was too
skinny.
B.ell, do something.B 2t was the voice of (herry
6xendine, almost wailing. "he stumbled up the bank.
'arold reached out and grabbed her arm. (lose up,
she was a mess, wet and muddy, with her hair all over
her head. 7ut the thing that got 'arold, of course, was
that she didnAt have any top on. "he didnAt even try to
cover them up either, *ust stomped her little foot on
the bank and said, B2 am going to ill .amar :ee(les #hen
6 !et ahold o& him.F 0arold had neer een ima!ined so much s2in.
F5hat$s !oin! onGF as2ed Ben/ &rom u% the (an2.
0arold too2 o&& his o#n shirt as &ast as he could and handed it
oer to Cherry 7xendine. FCoer yoursel&/F he said.
F5hy/ than2 you.F Cherry didn$t (at an eye. 8he too2 his shirt
and %ut it on/ tyin! it stylishly at the #aist. 0arold couldn$t (eliee
it. Close u%/ Cherry #as a lot smaller than she loo2ed on the sta!e
or the &oot(all &ield. 8he loo2ed u% at 0arold throu!h her dri%%in!
hair and !ae him her croo2ed !rin.
FThan2s/ heyGF she said.
1nd then she #as !one/ anished into the mist and trees (e&ore
0arold could say another #ord. 0e o%ened his mouth and closed
it. Mist o(scured his ie#. From the other side o& the la2e he could
hear F<am(lin <oseF %layin! on some(ody$s radio. 0e heard a
!irl$s hi!hC%irched !i!!le/ a (oy$s #hoo%in! lau!h.
F5hat$s !oin! onGF as2ed Ben.
F4othin!/F 0arold said. 6t #as the &irst time he had eer lied to
Ben. 0arold neer told any(ody #hat had ha%%ened that ni!ht/ not
eer. 0e &elt that it #as u% to him to %rotect Cherry 7xendine$s
honor. .ater/ much later/ #hen he and Cherry #ere loers/ he #as
astonished to learn that she couldn$t remem(er any o& this/ not #ho
she #as #ith or #hat had ha%%ened or #hat she #as doin! in the
la2e li2e that #ith her to% o&&/ or 0arold !iin! her his shirt. F6
thin2 that #as s#eet/ thou!h/F Cherry told him.
5hen 0arold and Ben &inally !ot home that ni!ht at nine or ten
o$cloc2/ 0arold$s mother #as &rantic. FHou$e (een drin2in!/F she
shrilled at him under the han!in! %orch li!ht. F1nd #here$s your
shirtGF 6t #as a ne# madras shirt #hich 0arold had !otten &or
!raduation. 4o# 0arold$s mother is out at the 0illandale <est
0ome. Ben died in @ietnam/ and Cherry is dro#nin!. This time/
and 0arold 2no#s it no#/ he can$t hel% her.
6h, (herryL .ould she have been so wild if she hadnAt
been so cute0 -nd what if her parents had been
younger when she was bornGnormal%age parentsG
couldnAt they have controlled her better0 -s it was, the
6xendines were sober, solid people living in a
farmhouse out near the county line, and (herry lit up
their lives like a rocket. 'er dad, +artin B7uddyB
6xendine, went to sleep in his chair every night right
after supper, woke back up for the eleven%oAclock
news, and then went to bed for good. 7uddy was an
elder in the 7aptist church. (herryAs mom, 9ladys
6xendine, made drapes for people. "he assumed she
would never have children at all because of her spastic
colitis. 9ladys and 7uddy had started raising
cockapoos when they gave up on children. 2magine
9ladysAs surprise, then, to find herself pregnant at
thirty%eight, when she was already oldL &hey say she
didnAt even know it when she went to the doctor. "he
thought she had a tumor.
13+
7ut then she got so excited, that old farm woman,
when 3r. 9rimwood told her what was what, and she
wouldnAt even consider an abortion when he
mentioned the chances of a mongoloid. #eople didnAt
use to have babies so old then as they do now, so
9ladys 6xendineAs pregnancy was the talk of the
county. Neighbors crocheted little *ackets and made
receiving blankets. 7uddy built a baby room onto the
house and made a cradle by hand. 3uring the last two
months of the pregnancy, when 9ladvs had to stay in
bed because of toxemia, people brought over
casseroles and boiled cusrard, everything good.
9ladysAs pregnancy was the only time in her whole life
that she was ever pretty, and she loved it, and she
loved the attention, neighbors in and our of the house.
.hen the baby was finally born on November =, =>CC,
no parents were ever more ready than 9ladys and
7uddy 6xendine. -nd the baby was everything they
hoped for too, which is not usually the caseGthe
prettiest baby in the world, a baby like a little flower.
&hey named her 3oris (hristine which is who she
was until eighth grade, when she made *unior varsity
cheerleader and announced that she was changing her
name to (herry. (herryL 5ven her parents had to
admit it suited her better than 3oris (hristine. -s a
little girl, 3oris (hristine was redheaded, bouncy, and
busyGshe was always into something, usually
something youAd never thought to tell her not to do.
"he started talking early and never shut up. 'er old
dad, old 7uddy 6xendine, was so cra$y about 3oris
(hristine diat he took her everywhere with him in his
red pickup truck. You got used to seeing the two of
them, 7uddy and his curly%headed little daughter,
riding the country roads together, going to the seed%
and%feed together, sharing a shake at the 3airy Wueen.
9ladys made all of 3oris (hristineAs clothes, the most
beautiful little dresses in the world, with hand%
smocking and French seams. &hey gave 3oris
(hristine everything they could think ofGwhat she
asked for, what she didnAt. B&hat child is going to get
spoiled,B people started to say. -nd of course she did
get spoiled, she couldnAt have helped that" but she was
never spoiled rotten as so many are. "he stayed sweet
in spite of it all.
&hen along about ninth grade, soon after she
changed her name to (herry and got interested in
boys, things changed between (herry and the old
6xendines. "tuff happened. 2nstead of being the light
of their lives, (herry became the bane of their
existence, the curse of their old age. "he wanted to
wear makeup, she wanted to have car dates. You canAt
blame herGshe was old enough, sixteen. 5verybody
else did it. 7ut you canAt blame 9ladys and 7uddy
eitherGthey were old people by then, all worn out.
&hey were not up to such a daughter. (herry sneaked
out. "he wrecked a car. "he ran away to #ensacola with
a soldier. Finally, 9ladys and 7uddy *ust gave up.
.hen (herry eloped with the disc *ockey, 3on .estall,
right after graduation, they threw up their hands. &hey
did not do a thing about it. &hey had done the best
they could, and everybody knew it. &hey went back to
raising cockapoos.
(herry, living up in Nashville, &ennessee, had a
baby, "tan, the one thatAs in his twenties now. (herry
sent baby pictures back to 9ladys and 7uddy, and
wrote that she was going to be a singer. "ix years later,
she came home. "he said nothing against 3on .estall,
who was still a disc *ockey on .:LO, Nashville. You
could hear him on the radio every night after ten #.+.
(herry said the breakup was all her fault. "he said she
had made some mistakes, but she didnAt say what they
were. "he was thin and noble. 'er kid was cute. "he
did not go back out to the farm then. "he rented an
apartment over the hardware store, down by the river,
and got a *ob downtown working in 9ingerAs 7outi!ue.
-fter a year or so, she started acting more like herself
again, although not Fuite like herself, she had grown
up somehow in Nashville, and !uit being spoiled. "he
put "tan, her kid, first. -nd if she did run around a
little bit, or if she was the life of the party sometimes
out at the country club, so what0 "tan didnAt want for
a thing. 7y then the 6xendines were failing and she
had to take care of them too, she had to drive her
daddy up to 9renada for dialysis twice a week. 2t was
not an easy life for (herry, but if it ever got her down,
you couldnAt tell it. "he was still cute. .hen her daddy
finally died and left her a little money, everybody was
real glad. 6h now, they said/ Cherry 7xendine can Kuit
#or2in! so hard and %ut her mama in a home or somethin! and
hae a decent li&e. 8he can !o on a cruise. But then alon! came 3d
:alladino/ and the rest is history.
Cherry 7xendine #as le&t #ith no hus(and/ no money/ a little
!irl/ and a mean old mama to ta2e care o&. 1t least (y this time
8tan #as in the 4ayCCherry neer com%lained/ thou!h. 8he
moed (ac2 out to the &arm. 5hen Gin!er retired &rom (usiness
and closed her (outiKue/ Cherry !ot another >o(/ as a rece%tionist
at 5allace/ 5allace and :ee(les. This #as her undoin!. Because
.amar :ee(les had >ust moed (ac2 to to#n #ith his &amily/ to
>oin his &ather$s &irm. .amar had t#o little !irls. 0e had (een
married to a to(acco heiress since colle!e. 1ll this time he had run
around on her. 0e #as not on the u%CandCu%. 1nd #hen he
encountered redheaded Cherry 7xendine a!ain a&ter the %assa!e o&
so many years/ all those old &ire#or2s #ent o&& a!ain. They !ot to
(e a scandal/ then a dis!race. .amar said he #as !oin! to marry
her/ and Cherry (elieed him. 1&ter six months o& it/ Mrs. .amar
:ee(les chec2ed hersel& into a mental hos%ital in 8iler 0ill/
Connecticut. First/ she called her la#yers.
1nd then it #as all oer/ not een a year a&ter it (e!an. Mr. and
Mrs. .amar :ee(les #ere reconciled and moed to 5instonC
8alem/ 4orth Carolina/ her hometo#n. Cherry 7xendine lost her
>o( at 5allace/ 5allace and :ee(les/ and #as reduced to #or2in!
in the deli at Food .ion. 5hy did she do itG 5hy did she lose all
the !ood#ill she$d (uilt u% in this community oer so many yearsG
6t is (ecause she doesn$t 2no# ho# to loo2 out &or 4um(er 7ne.
0er o#n dau!hter/ Tammy .ynn :alladino/ is a#are o& this.
FHou hae !ot a &atal &la#/ Mama/F Tammy said a&ter learnin!
a(out &atal &la#s in 3n!lish class. FHou (eliee eerythin!
eery(ody tells you.F
8till/ Tammy loes her mother. 8ometimes she #rites her
mother$s #hole name/ Cherry 7xendine 5estall :alladino 8ti2es/
oer and oer in her Blue 0orse note(oo2. Tammy .ynn #ill
neer (e hal& the #oman her mother is/ and she$s so smart she
2no#s it. 8he !ets a 2ic2 out o& her morher$s #ild ideas.
F5hen you !ee too old to (e cute/ honey/ you !et to (e
eccentric/F Cherry told Tammy one time. 6t$s the truest thin! she
eer said.
6t seems to Tammy that the main thin! a(out her mother is/
Cherry al#ays has to hae %omethin" !oin! on. 6& it isn$t a man it$s
14,
somethin! else/ such as hain! her %alm read (y thar #oman oer
in French Cam%/ or astrolo!y/ or the !ra%e&ruit diet. Cherry
(eliees in the Bermuda Trian!le/ Bi!&oot/ 1tlantis/ and !hosts. 6t
2ills her that she$s not %sychic. The =F7 Clu( #as >ust the latest in
a lon! strin! o& interests althou!h it has lasted the lon!est/ startin!
(ac2 (e&ore Cherry$s marria!e to 0arold 8d2es. 1nd then Cherry
!ot cancer/ and she 2ind o& &or!ot a(out it. But Tammy still
remem(ers the ni!ht her mama &irst !ot so turned on to =F7s.
8honda 8amey, (herryAs best friend, *oined the UF6
(lub first. 8honda and (herry are a lot alike, although
itAs hard to see this at first. .hile (herry is short and
peppy, 8honda is tall, thin, and listless. "he looks like
(her. 8honda doesnAt have any children. "heAs cra$y
about her husband, 7ill, but heAs a workaholic who
runs a string of video rental stores all over northern
+ississippi, so heAs gone a lot, and 8honda gets bored.
"he works out at the spa, but it isnAt enough. +aybe
this is why she got so interested when the UF6 landed
at a farm outside her motherAs hometown of (omo. 2t
was first spotted by sixteen%year%old 3onnie ohnson
*ust at sunset, as he was finishing his chores on his
parentsA farm. 'e heard a loud rumbling sound Bin the
direction of the hog house,B it said in the paper.
Looking up, he suddenly saw a Bbrilliantly lit
mushroom%shaped ob*ectB hovering about two feet
above the ground, with a shaft of white light below and
glowing all over with an intensely bright multicolored
light, Blike the light of a welderAs arc.B
3onnie said it sounded like a *et. 'e was
temporarily blinded and paraly$ed. 'e fell down on
the ground. .hen he came back to his senses again, it
was gone. 3onnie staggered into the kitchen where his
parents, 3urel, fifty%four, and 5rma, forty%nine, were
eating supper, and told them what had happened.
&hey all ran back outside to the field, where they found
four large imprints and four small imprinrs in the
muddy ground, and a nearby clump of sage grass on
fire. &he hogs were acting funny, bunching up, looking
da$ed. 2mmediately, 3urel *umped in his truck and
went to get the sheriff, who came right back with two
deputies. -ll in all, six people viewed the site while the
bush continued to burn, and who knows how many
peopleGhalf of (omoGsaw the imprints the next day.
8honda saw them too. "he drove out to the ohnson
farm with her mother, as soon as she heard about it.
2t was a close encounter of the second kind,
according to (ivil -ir #atrol head 9lenn 8aines, who
appeared on &< to discuss it, because the UF6
Binteracted with its surroundings in a significant way.B
- close encounter of the first kind is simplv a close%
range sighting, while a close encounter of the third
kind is something like the most famous example, of
7etty and 7arney 'ill of 5xeter, New 'ampshire, who
were actually kidnapped by a UF6 while they were
driving along on a trip. 7etty and 7arney 'ill were
taken aboard the alien ship and given physical exams
by intelligent humanoid beings. &wo hours and thirty%
five minutes were missing from their trip, and
afterward, 7etty had to be treated for acute anxiety.
9lenn 8aines, wearing his brown (ivil -ir #atrol
uniform, said all this on &<.
'is appearance, plus what had happened at the
ohnson farm, sparked a rash of sightings all across
+ississippi, Louisiana, and &exas for the next two
years. +etal disk%like ob*ects were seen, and luminous
ob*ects appearing as lights at night. 2n Levelland,
&exas, fifteen people called the police to report an egg%
shaped UF6 appearing over "tate 8oad ==FK. 6verall,
the UF6s seemed to show a preference for soybean
fields and teenage girl viewers. 7ut a pretty good
photograph of a UF6 flying over the 9ulf was taken by
a retired man from #ascagoula, so you canAt generali$e.
(lubs sprang up all over the place. &he one that
8honda and (herry went to had seventeen members
and met once a month at the *unior high school.
&ammy recalls exactly how her mama and 8honda
acted the night they came home from (herryAs first
meeting. (herryAs eyes sparkled in her face like 7renda
"tarrAs eyes in the comics. "he started right in telling
&ammy all about it, beginning with the ohnsons from
(omo and 7etty and 7arney 'ill.
&ammy was not impressed. B2 donAt believe it,B she
said. "he was president of the "cience (lub at the
*unior high school.
BYou are the most irritating childLB (herry said. B
What donAt you believe0B
B.ell, any of it,B &ammy said then. B-ll of it,B and
this has remained her attitude ever since.
BListen, honey, ,immy -arter sa# one/F Cherry said
trium%hantly. F6n nineteen seentyCone/ at the 3xecutie Mansion
in Geor!ia. 0e turned in an o&&icial re%ort on it.F
F0o# come no(ody 2no#s a(out it/ thenGF Tammy as2ed. 8he
#as a tou!h customer.
FBecause the !oernment coered it u%LF said <honda/ >ust
dyin! to tell this %art. F:eo%le see =F7s all the time/ it$s common
2no#led!e/ they are tryin! to ma2e contact #ith us ri!ht no#/
honey/ (ut the !oernment doesn$t #ant the aera!e citi;en to
2no# a(out it. There$s a (i! coerCu% !oin! on.F
F6t$s >ust li2e 5ater!ate.F Cherry o%ened a (eer and handed it
oer to <honda.
FThat$s ri!ht/F <honda said/ Fand eery time there$s a ma>or
incident/ you 2no# #hat ha%%ensG These men &rom the
!oernment sho# u% at your &ront door dressed all in (lac2. 1&ter
they !et throu!h #ith you/ you$ll #ish you neer heard the #ord
$saucer.$ Hou turn %ale and !et real sic2. Hou can$t !et anythin! to
stay on your stomach.F
&ammy crac2ed u%. Bur <honda and Cherry #ent on and on.
They had o&&icialCloo2in! !ray note(oo2s to lo! their si!htin!s in.
1t their meetin!s/ they re%orted these si!htin!s to each other/ and
studied u% on the su(>ect in !eneral. 8ome(ody in the clu( #as
res%onsi(le &or the educational %art o& each meetin!/ and
some(ody else (rou!hr the re&reshments.
&ammy Lynn learned to keep her mouth shut. 2t
was less embarrassing than belly dancing; she had a
friend whose mother took belly dancing at the Y+(-.
&ammy did not tell her mama about all the rational
explanations for UF6s that she found in the school
library. &hey included4 I=J hoaxes; IHJ natural
phenomena, such as fungus causing the so%called fairy
rings sometimes found after a landing; IKJ real
airplanes flying off course; and &ammvAs favorite, ICJ
the Fata +organa, described as a Brare and beautiful
type of mirage, constantly changing, the result of
unstable layers of warm and cold air. &he Fata
+organa takes its name from fairy lore and is said to
141
evoke in the viewer a profound sense of longing,B the
book went on to say. &ammyAs biology teacher, +r.
6wens, said he thought that the weather patterns in
+ississippi might be especially conducive to this
phenomenon. 7ut &ammy kept her mouth shut. -nd
after a while, when nobody in the UF6 (lub saw
anything, its membership declined sharply. &hen her
mama met 'arold "tikes, then 'arold "tikes left his
wife and children and moved out to the farm with
them, and sometimes (herry forgot to attend the
meetings, she was so happy with 'arold "tikes.
&ammy couldnAt see tuhy, initially. 2n her opinion,
'arold "tikes was about as interesting as a telephone
pole. B7ut heAs so nice51 (herry tried to explain it to
&ammy Lynn. Finally &ammy decided that there is
nothing in the world that makes somebody as
attractive as if they really love you. -nd 'arold "tikes
really did love her mama, there was no !uestion. &hat
old manGwhat a cra$y old 8omeoL .hy, he proposed
to (herry when she was still in the hospital after she
had her breast removed Ithis was back when they
thought that was it, that the doctors had gotten it allJ.
BListen, (herry,B he said solemnly, gripping a do$en
red roses. B2 want you to marry me.B
B.hat0B (herry said. "he was still groggy.
B2 want you to marry me,B 'arold said. 'e knelt
down heavily beside her bed.
B'aroldL 9et up from thereLB (herry said.
B"omebody will see you.B
B"ay yes,B said 'arold.
B2 *ust had my (reast remoed.F
F8ay yes/F he said a!ain.
1 Yes, yes, yes51 (herry said.
-nd as soon as she got out of the hospital, they were
married out in the orchard, on a beautiful -pril day, by
Lew Uggams, a # from out of town. &hey couldnAt
find a local %reacher to do it. The s2y #as (ri!ht (lue/ not a
cloud in si!ht. 4o(ody #as inited exce%t 8tan/ Tammy/ <honda
and Bill/ and Cherry$s mother/ #ho #ore her dress inside out.
Cherry #ore a ne# %in2 lace dress/ the color o& cherry (lossoms.
Tou!h little Tammy cried and cried. 6t$s the most (eauti&ul
#eddin! she$s eer seen/ and no# she$s com%letely deoted to
0arold 8ti2es.
8o Tammy leaes the li!hts on &or 0arold #hen she &inally !oes to
(ed that ni!ht. 8he tried to #ait u% &or him/ (ut she has to !o to
school in the mornin!/ she$s !ot a chemistry test. 0er mama# is
sound aslee% in the little addedCon (a(y room that Buddy
7xendine (uilt &or Cherry. Gladys acts li2e a (a(y no#/ a s%oiled
(a(y at that. The only thin! she$ll drin2 is 8%rite out o& a can. 8he
tal2s mean. 8he doesn$t li2e anythin! in the #orld exce%t Geor!e
and Tammy/ the t#o remainin! coc2a%oos.
&hey (ar2 u% a storm #hen 0arold &inally !ets (ac2 out to the
&arm/ at oneCthirty. The coc2a%oos are (ar2in!/ Cherry$s mom is
snorin! li2e a chain sa#. 0arold doesn$t see ho# Tammy .ynn can
slee% throu!h all o& this/ (ut she al#ays does. Teena!ers can slee%
throu!h anythin!. 0arold himsel& has started #a2in! u% seeral
times a ni!ht/ his heart %oundin!. 0e #onders i& he$s !oin! to hae
a heart attac2. 0e almost mentioned his sym%toms to .ois 0ic2ey
last #ee2/ in &act/ (ut then thou!ht/ 5hat the hell. 0is heart is
(ro2en. 7& course it$s !oin! to act u% some. 1nd eerythin!/ not
only his heart/ is out o& #hac2. 8ometimes he$ll (rea2 into a s#eat
&or no reason. 7&ten he &or!ets really crucial thin!s/ such as &ilin!
his estimated income tax on "anuary 15. 0arold is not the 2ind to
&or!et somethin! this im%ortant. 0e has stran!e aches that &loat
&rom >oint to >oint. 0e has headaches. 0e$s lost t#ele %ounds.
8ometimes he has no a%%etite at all. 7ther times/ li2e ri!ht no#/
he$s >ust starin!.
'arold !oes in the 2itchen and &inds a &lat rectan!ular
casserole/ care&ully #ra%%ed in tin&oil/ on the counter/ alon! #ith
aTu%%er#are ca2e carrier. 0e li&ts o&& the to% o& the ca2e carrier
and &inds a %ina colada ca2e/ his &aorite. Then he %ulls (ac2 the
tin&oil on the casserole. .asa!naL :lenty is le&t oer. 0arold stic2s
it in the micro#ae. 0e 2no#s that the ca2e and the lasa!na #ere
le&t here (y his exC#i&e. 3er since Cherry has (een in 6ntensie
Care/ "oan has (een (rin!in! &ood out to the &arm. 8he comes
#hen 0arold$s at #or2 or at the hos%ital/ and leaes it #ith Gladys
or Tammy. 8he %ro(a(ly &i!ures that 0arold #ould re&use it/ i& she
cau!ht him at home/ #hich he #ould. 8he$s a !rear coo2/ thou!h.
0arold ta2es the lasa!na out o& the micro#ae/ o%ens a (eer/ and
sits do#n at the 2itchen ta(le. 0e loes "oan$s lasa!na.
(herryAs idea of a terrific meal is one she doesnAt have
to cook. 'arold remembers eating in bed with (herry,
tacos from &aco 7ell, sour%cream%and%onion chips,
beer. 'e gets some more lasagna and a big wedge of
pina colada cake.
Now itAs two%thirty, but for some reason 'arold is
not a bit sleepy. 'is mind whirls with thoughts of
(herry. 'e snaps off all the lights and stands in the
darkened house. 'is heart is racing. +oonlight comes
in the windows, it falls on the old patterned rug.
6utside, itAs as bright as day. 'e puts his coat on and
goes out, with the cockapoos scampering along beside
him. &hey are not even surprised. &hey think itAs a fine
time for a walk. 'arold goes past the mailbox, down
the dirt road between the fields. 6ut here in the
country, the sky is both bigger and closer than it is in
town. 'arold feels like heAs in a huge bowl turned
upside down, with tiny little pinpoints of light shining
through. -nd everything is silvered by the moonlightG
the old fenceposts, the corn stubble in the flat long
fields, a distant barn, the highway at the end of the dirt
road, his own strange hand when he holds it out to
look at it.
'e remembers when she waited on him in the Food
Lion deli, three years ago. 'e had asked for a roast
beef sandwich, which come prepackaged. (herry put it
on his plate. &hen she paused, and cocked her hip, and
looked at him. B(an 2 give you some potato salad to go
with that0B she asked. B"ome slaw0B
'arold looked at her. "ome red curls had escaped
the re!uired net. BNothing else,B he said.
7ut (herry spooned a generous helping of potato salad
onto his plate. B&hank you so much,B he said. &hey
looked at each other. B2 know 2 know you,B (herry
said.
2t came to him then. B(herry 6xendine,B said
'arold. B2 remember you from high school.B
BLord, youAve got a great memory, thenLB (herry had
an easy laugh. B&hat was a hundred years ago.B
B3oesnAt seem like it.B 'arold knew he was holding
up the line.
B3epends on who youAre talking to,B (herry said.
Later that day, 'arold found an excuse to go back
over to the deli for coffee and apple pie, then he found
an excuse to look through the personnel files. 'e
started eating lunch at the deli every day, without
making any conscious decision to do so. 2n the
142
afternoons, when he went back for coffee, (herry
would take her break and sit at a table with him.
'arold and (herry talked and talked. &hey talked
about their families, their kids, high school. (herry
told him everything that had happended to her. "he
was tough and funny, not bitter or self%pitying. &hey
talked and talked. 2n his whole life, 'arold had never
had so much to say. 3uring this period, which lasted
for several weeks, his whole life took on a heightened
aspect. 5verything that happened to him seemed
significant, a little incident to tell (herry about. 5very
song he liked on the radio he remembered, so he could
ask (herry if she liked it too. &hen there came the day
when they were having coffee and she mentioned sheAd
left her car at -lAs 9arage that morning to get a new
clutch.
B2All give you a ride over there to pick it up,B said
'arold instantly. 2n his mind he immediately canceled
the sales meeting he had scheduled for four oAclock.
B6h, thatAs too much trouble,B (herry said.
B7ut 2 insist.B 2n his conversations with (herry,
'arold had developed a brand%new gallant manner he
had never had before.
B.ell, if youAre sure itAs not any trouble ...B (herry
grinned at him like she knew he really wanted to do it,
and that afternoon when he grabbed her hand
suddenly before letting her out at -lAs 9arage, she did
not pull it away.
&he next weekend 'arold took her up to +emphis
and they stayed at the #eabody 'otel, where (herry
got the biggest kick out of the ducks in the lobby, and
ordering from room service.
BYouAre a fool,B 'aroldAs friends told him later,
when the shit hit the fan.
7ut 'arold didnAt think so. 'e doesnAt think so now,
walking the old dirt road on the 6xendine farm in the
moonlight. 'e loves his wife. 'e feels that he has been
ennobled and enlarged, by knowing (herry 6xendine.
'e feels like he has been specially selected among
men, to receive a precious gift. 'e stepped out of his
average life for her, he gave up being a good man, but
the rewards have been extraordinary. 'eAs glad he did
it. 'eAd do it all over again.
"till walking, 'arold suddenly knows that
something is going to happen. 7ut he doesnAt stop
walking. 6nly, the whole world around him seems to
waver a bit, and intensify. &he moonlight shines
whiter than ever. - little wind whips up out of
nowhere. &he stars are twinkling so brightly that they
r
seem to dance/ actually dance/ in the s2y. 1nd then/ #hile 0arold
#atches/ one o& them detaches itsel& &rom the rest o& the s2 and
!ro#s lar!er/ moes closer/ until it$s clear that it is actually moin!
across the s2y/ at an an!le to the earth. 1 &allin! star/ %erha%sG 1
cometG
0arold sto%s #al2in!. The star moes &aster and taster/ #ith an
erratic %attern. 6t$s !ettin! real close no#. 6t$s no star. 0arold hears
a hi!h #hinin! noise/ li2e a (lender. The coc2a%oos huddle a!ainst
his an2les. They don$t (ar2. 4o# he can see the (lin2in! red li!hts
on the to% o& it/ and the (eam o& #hite li!ht shootin! out the
(ottom. 0is coat is (lo#n strai!ht out (ehind him (y the #ind. 0e
&eels li2e he$s !oin! (lind. 0e shields his eyes. 1t &irst it$s as (i! as
a (arn/ then a to(acco #arehouse. 6t coers the &ield. 1lthou!h
0arold can$t say exactly ho# it communicates to him or een i& it
does/ suddenly his soul is &illed to (urstin!. The ine&&a(le occurs.
1nd then/ more Kuic2ly than it came/ it$s !one/ o&& to#ard
Carrollton/ risin! inro the ni!ht/ leain! the &ield/ the &arm/ the
road. 0arold turns (ac2.
6t #ill ta2e Cherry 7xendine t#o more #ee2s to die. 8he$s
tou!h. 1nd een #hen there$s nothin! le&t o& her (ur heart/ she #ill
&i!ht all the #ay. 8he #ill !o out turious/ sKuee;in! 0arold$s hand
at the ery moment o& death/ clin!in! last to eery minute o& this
(ri!ht/ hard li&e. 1nd althou!h at &irst he #on$t #ant to/ 0arold
#ill !o on liin!. 0e #ill (uy another store. Gladys #ill die.
Tammy .ynn #ill ma2e :hi Beta 9a%%a. 0arold #ill start
attendin! the :res(yterian church a!ain. 3entually 0arold may
een !o (ac2 to his &amily/ (ut he #ill loe Cherry 7xendine until
the day he dies/ and he #ill neer/ eer/ tell any(ody #hat he sa#.
Lee Smith at Home in /alachia
b (eanne )#!onald
-s they say in the "outh, Lee "mith has never met a
stranger. Five minutes after you meet her, you are
exchanging intimate secrets and discussing weighty
things%metaphysical issues, humanity, the really
important stuff. "mith demonstrates an empathy and
involvement with the concerns of others that are so
sincere, you reali$e immediately that she herself has
been on the same emotional plateau at one time or
another. 'er lively blue eyes are as friendly and
approachable as a cool lake you can wade into, and her
smile and expressions seem completely implicated
with everything you are telling her. No wonder her
characters are so real, her sub*ects so genuine. Lee
"mith understands. "he listens. -nd after her
discovery of ames "till, "mith began listening even
more intently to the stories told in 9rundy, taping
them and writing them down. "he coaxed her mother
to retell tales from the past that she might have
forgotten, talked to her father about ghost stories and
legends of the region, and prompted her -unt :ate to
tell her version of the truth.
T.riting comes out of a life lived,, ames "till said
once in an interview I%no;ville AewsD#entinel, +ay
=E, =>>KJ. TFor me, ideas are hanging from limbs like
pears, from fences like gourds. &hey rise up like birds
from cover., "o it was for Lee "mith, who began to
incorporate all those true tales and anecdotes from
9rundy into her novels. Last year, at the beginning of
her ninth novel, #aving 2race I#utnam, =>>EJ, she
!uoted these lines from &. ". 5liot,s TLittle 9iddings,4
We shall not cease from e;&loration
"nd the end of all our e;&loring
6ill $e to arri'e
#here #e started
"nd now the &lace for the first time.
3uring the writing of her fourth novel, Bral
4istory I#utnam, =>@KJ, another revelation occurred.
143
"mith discovered that the device of using first%person
narrative gave her characters dignity and removed
stiffness from the dialogue. Now she had place, story,
and voice, the voice that had been in her head, in her
ears, on the tip of her tongue, for years. &he rhythms
of the native dialect came naturally to her.
5ven in the novels she had read as a child, "mith
had fallen in love with the "outhern literary voice. T6f
course,, she says, Tit was impossible not to be
influenced by Faulkner,, and it was from novels like
The #ound and the Fury and "s 7 $ay 3ying that she
got the idea of multiple narrators, even though
Faulkner,s 3eep "outh settings, with their "panish
moss, ruined columns, and crumbling old mansions,
were a world apart from 9rundy,s dark hills and
poverty%ridden hollows. &here were no black people in
9rundy, either. For "mith, Faulkner,s world was so
alien, it might as well have been a foreign country. &he
voices of 9rundy that already existed in her head were
reinforced by the characters in 5udora .elty,s T"hower
of 9old, and Flannery 6,(onnor,s T5verything &hat
8ises +ust (onverge., -lthough "mith is often
compared to both these "outhern writers, her own
reading taste is broad and eclectic. "he lists <irginia
.oolf,s To the $ighthouse as the Tperfect novel,, is an
avid reader of poetry, and, with tongue in cheek, calls
"hakespeare Treal good., "mith could never be labeled
as a Tgrit%lit, writer who reduces poor white
"outherners to generic caricatures. "he brings to her
characters a decency and dignity that makes them as
credible as any memorable character in 5nglish
literature. "ome people, however, e!uate "outhern
dialects with ignorance%in both characters and
authors. "mith recounts an episode that occurred early
in her career, when she gave a reading at (olumbia
University. -s soon as she began to speak, several
people got up and walked out of the auditorium, put
off, she assumed, by her thick "outhern accent. 6thers
call her accent Tlilting,, Tcharming,, and Newsweek
summed up the impact of her work in a review of her
fifth novel, Fair and Tender $adies I#utnam, =>@@J4
T'er work is about the moment when, as you look at or
listen to a work of nadve art, it stops being a curiosity
and starts to speak to you in a human voice.,
Lee "mith made a giant leap into the mainstream
when Bral 4istory was published. .ith that novel,
she became the titular !ueen of the new "outhern
regional movement, which #eter 9uralnick, writing in
the $os "ngeles Times Maga+ine I+ay H=, =>>?J,
defined as a Tsimultaneous embrace of past and
present, this insistent chronicling of the small, heroic
battles of the human spirit, a recognition of the dignity
and absurdity of the commonplace., 9uralnick
includes among the movement,s members Larry
7rown, :aye 9ibbons, (ormac +c(arthy, ill
+c(orkle, ayne -nne #hillips, -nne &yler, and ames
.ilcox. &hough they may have varied literary styles,
all these authors, like "mith, write stories with an
exceptionally strong sense of place.
T2n the "outh,, "mith says, Tsense of place implies
who you are and what your family did. 2t,s not *ust
literally the physical surroundings, what stuff looks
like. 2t,s a whole sense of the past. 5ven if 2 write a
short story, 2 have to make diagrams of what the
character,s house looks like and where the house is in
relation to the town., 2n fact, #utnam recently returned
to her a map she drew when she wrote Bral 4istory,
depicting not only the physical setting for the novel,
but also the geographical relationship of all the
characters.
Bral 4istory is the virtual prototype of the modern
-ppalachian novel, but it is also the book that broke
Lee "mith out of the regional mold. TLee "mith,, says
9uralnick, Tis the latest in a long line of "outherners
who transform the region,s voices and visions into
!uintessentially -merican novels., 6ther novels by
"mith that celebrate the Tsmall, heroic battles of the
human spirit, followed soon after4 Family $inen
I#utnam, =>@?J, Fair and Tender $adies, The 3evil!s
3ream I#utnam, =>>HJ, and, in =>>E, #aving 2race.
"mith,s first novel came out of her senior thesis at
'ollins (ollege under the tutelage of Louis 8ubin, who
later founded -lgon!uin #ress. The $ast 3ay the
3og*ushes Bloomed, published by 'arper and 8ow in
=>E@, was an impressive beginning for such a young
writer, but there was a period early in her career when
the initial momentum broke down. T'arper and 8ow
had published my second and third novels M#omething
in the Wind, =>F=, and Fancy #trut, =>FKN, when my
wonderful editor, (ass (anfield, retired. 2 was young,
living in -labama, and my books had lost money for
the publishers. 2 had been published in Best Writing
From "merican -olleges, had won a 7ook%of%the%
+onth (lub .riting Fellowship, and 2 had a good
agent, #erry :nowlton. 7ut nobody would take my
new novel, Blac Mountain Breadown. Not even my
agent believed in it.
&o further complicate matters, "mith reali$ed that
her marriage to her first husband, poet ames "eay,
was disintegrating, and she had two young sons to care
for. From =>FK to =>@= she taught high school 5nglish
and a variety of other courses and had actually
enrolled in graduate school for training as a special
education teacher when her friend 8oy 7lount, r.,
helped her find the New York agent who still
represents her work%Li$ 3arhanshoff%and her literary
career took off again. TFaith "ale at #utnam became my
editor and remains my editor after all these years,,
says "mith, Tand that ended the nonpublishing streak.,
"he handled the temporary defeat as cheerfully as she
handles all obstacles4 T2 have never had writer,s block,,
she says wryly, Tbut 2 have definitely had publisher,s
block.,
+eanwhile, back in 9rundy, nobody had ever
doubted that Lee "mith would grow up to be a famous
storyteller, especially not "mith herself, who says she
had been Tromantically dedicated, to the grand idea of
being a writer ever since she could remember. Like
:aren, the teen%aged narrator in her story T&ongues of
Fire, in the short story collection Me and My Ba*y
6iew the Ecli&se, #utnam, =>>DJ who "mith says is
closest to her autobiographical double, she often
pictured herself Tpoised at the foggy edge of a cliff
someplace in the south of France, wearing a cape,
144
drawing furiously on a long cigarette, hollow%cheeked
and haunted.,
-s soon as she was able to spell, "mith started
writing stories. T2 loved it,, she said, Tbecause
everything happened *ust the way 2 wanted it to.
.riting stories gave me a special power., 'er first
Tnovel,, written on her mother,s stationery when "mith
was eight years old, had as its main characters her two
favorite people at the time%-dlai "tevenson and ane
8ussell. &he plot involved their falling in love, heading
west in a covered wagon, and converting to
+ormonism.
-t the age of ==, "mith and her best friend, +artha
"ue 6wens, published a neighborhood newspaper, The
#mall Review, which they laboriously hand%copied for
=H neighbors. -rticles from the newspaper show
evidence of "mith,s budding talent for detailed
observation as well as her curiosity about people,s
idiosyncrasies. 'er controversial editorial, T9eorge
+c9uire 2s &oo 9rumpy,, exacted an apology to the
neighbor across the street, but it was indicative of
"mith,s dedication to truth in writing. For example, in
the short story TFancy "trut, in the collection Me and
My Ba*y 6iew the Ecli&se, she writes, T7ob and
Frances #itt stayed in a bridal suite in the 6cean%-ire
-utel at Fort .alton 7each, Florida, on their
honeymoon, and had a perfectly all right time; but do
you know what ohnny 7. and "andy 3u7ois did0
&hey went to the "outhern ?DD at 3arlington, "outh
(arolina, and sat out in the weather on those old hard
benches for three entire days, watching the cars go
around and around., 2n another story, TLife on the
+oon, Iin Me and My Ba*y 6iew the Ecli&seJ, she
writes4 TLonnie took the rug and the 5%P 7oy and his
clothes and six pieces of &upperware, that,s all, and
moved in with a nurse from the hospital, "haron
Ledbetter, into her one%bedroom apartment at (olony
(ourts.,
2t is these Tparticulars of life, that are Tsplendidly
observed,, said reviewer (aroline &hompson, writing
in the $os "ngeles Times at the publication of Blac
Mountain Breadown I#utnam, =>@=J4 T&hey would
make a (arson +c(ullers of a Flannery 6,(onnor
proud. "mith already knows her characters intimately
before she sits down to write the first word of a story.
2n order to keep her work spontaneous, she rarely
revises, which is lucky, because she still writes first
drafts in longhand. 7ut she knows exactly what her
characters are going to do because, she says, they tell
her. 2n fact, she describes herself as the medium
through which those characters speak. For her, voices
are Teasy to do. &here,s always a human voice that,s
telling me the story., 2t is easy for us as readers to
accept her declaration that she is merely the vehicle
for her characters, stories when we see how accurately
she gives voice to those poverty%stricken daughters,
wives, and mothers who live in the mountain Thollers,
she knew when she was growing up in 9rundy. 'er
empathy and her innate ability to recreate the events
of their lives and the cadence of their voices are factors
that help the reader understand%even love%those
women who marry young, are weighed down by
poverty and children while they are mere children
themselves, and who usually die never having seen the
world beyond the shadowy mountains where the sun
rarely shows itself before noon. +ost of "mith,s novels
deal with women whom Pu*lishers Weely I+ay =>>?J
called Tspirited women of humble background who are
destined to endure difficult and often tragic times., "he
draws her women so thoroughly%(rystal "pangler in
Blac Mountain Breadown, Florida 9race "hepherd
in #aving 2race, 2vy 8owe in Fair and Tender $adies%
that by the time you have finished her novels, you feel
as if you have made two new friends%the character and
Lee "mith herself.
Until "mith began to write novels, most southern
heroines, like "carlett 6,'ara, were from privileged
families. #oor white women remained in the
background, unexamined and unworthy of star billing.
7ut "mith changed all that by exploring their hearts
and minds and resurrecting the dignity of -ppalachian
women. "aving 9race is the perfect example of a story
and voice that "mith says Tpossessed her,, much as 2vy
8owe,s had in Fair and &ender Ladies. 2n fact, she was
so involved with 2vy, a character she says helped her
deal with the death of her own mother, that she was
reluctant to give up the manuscript when her editor
declared the book finished. 9race had already been
speaking to "mith for a while when she went to the
annual Flannery 6,(onnor Festival in +illedgeville,
9eorgia. "he returned home to (hapel 'ill, reread all
the 6,(onnor works she could find, submerged herself
in a torrent of writing, and delivered the manuscript to
#utnam two years early. T2 got taken over by 9race,,
she says. T2t was the most compelling narrative that
had ever come my way. 7ut even when it was finished
and 2 went to the post office to mail the manuscript to
the publisher, 2 still hadn,t thought of a name for the
book. .hile 2 was waiting in line, the wife of the local
pediatrician came in. T.hat,s the book about0, she
asked me. T-nd what,s the character,s name0,
TT9race,, 2 told her,, recounts "mith.
TT.ell, there,s your title, Lee,, she said. T(all it
#aving 2race., -nd 2 did.,
6ne reason so many "outhern fans identify with
Lee "mith is that she tells a story in the same
convoluted way that they themselves do, using
intimate asides, gossipy digressions, and personal
references, *ust as any friend would tell a story in
ordinary conversation. T&he way "outherners tell a
story is really specific to the "outh,, "mith says. T2t,s a
whole narrative strategy, it,s an approach. 5very kind
of information is imparted in the form of a story., -sk
for directions in the "outh0 "he laughs. T2t,s not *ust
turn left. 2t,s 7 remem*er the time my cousin went u&
there and got *it *y a mad dog. 2t,s a whole different
approach to interactions between people and to
transmitting information.,
&here is a fine line between the exaggerations and
embellishments with which "outherners give details
and what they define as a story. T+y father was fond of
saying that 2 would climb a tree to tell a lie rather than
stand on the ground to tell the truth,, says "mith. T2n
fact, in the mountains where 2 come from, a lie was
145
often called a story, and well do 2 remember being
shaken until my teeth rattled and MgivenN the stern
admonition4 T3on,t you tell me no story, now., 7ut
"mith was a precocious and imaginative child, and her
dramatic views were reinforced by books that gave her
an insight to the outside world that few others in
9rundy were privy to.
&hough none of her large extended family ever read
novels, "mith discovered literature early. TNot for
entertainment or information,, she says, Tbut to feel all
wild and trembly inside., 'er favorites were Tanything
at all about horses and saints. Nobody ever told me
something was too old for me because they didn,t
know, see0 &hey hadn,t read them. 2 read stuff that
would have made my mother die%Mandingo, Frank
Yerby, Butterfield K, lots of ohn 6,'ara. -nd
Raintree -ounty put me to bed for two days. 2 had to
lie down.,
"mith gave these same books to Florida 9race
"hepherd to read in #aving 2race, and that is how
9race, like "mith, learned that there was much more
to explore in the world. "till, it is the people "mith
grew up with who provided most of the material and
background for her characters4 the minister and his
wife, her grandmother, her friends who lived in the
hollers, or the women who worked in her father,s dime
store and talked about babies being born Twith veils
across their faces., -lthough her characters may be
eccentric or bi$arre, they are always believable, and
their dimension emanates from "mith,s ability to slip
into other people,s hearts and minds. 5ven when he
characters are flawed%shallow or evil or crafty%she
gives the reader something to love in each one. &heir
weaknesses and vulnerability make them seem real,
and every single one of her characters is the kind of
person you can still meet in southern -ppalachia
today. You can still find the 8andy Newhouse of
#aving 2race at any roadside tavern in the "outh; you
can still hear &ravis .ord preaching at any "outhern
fundamentalist country church; and you can see <irgil
"hepherd on religious &< on any day of the week. 2n
order to make these characters reali$able, "mith gives
them dignity. T"mith has great empathy for the poor,,
said Pu*lishers Weely in a =>>E review of #aving
2race, Tuneducated country people who yearn for a
transcendent message to infuse their lives with
spiritual meaning.,
- review of #aving 2race in &he Aew Yor Times
Boo Review complained that "mith had made her
characters Tdangerously close to clich_,, but anybody
who has grown up in the "outh recogni$es in "mith,s
stories his cousin, or an eccentric neighbor, or the man
who runs the grocery store down at the crossroads.
-nd Lee "mith knows human nature. .hen she wants
more information for a story, she dives in headfirst.
For background on Family $inen she took a *ob as a
shampoo girl at a local beauty shop to learn firsthand
how her characters, lives would play out.
Nothing is too demanding or exhausting for "mith.
"he is a woman who loves her work. 2n con*unction
with her latest award%a Lila .allace%8eader,s 3igest
grant, which gives her a generous financial stipend
and a three%year sabbatical%she chose to affiliate with
the 'indman "ettlement "chool in :entucky, where,
ironically, ames "till was librarian in =>KH. 7esides
the connection wit "till, "mith is attracted to the area
because it reminds her of 9rundy, and she feels an
affinity to the people there. "he has been working with
writing students at 'indman,s -dult Learning (enter
and at other eastern :entucky schools.
"mith has also been the recipient of the 8obert
#enn .arren #ri$e for Fiction I=>>=J, the "ir .alter
8aleigh -ward I=>@>J, the ohn 3os #assos -ward for
Literature I=>@FJ, the North (arolina -ward for
Fiction I=>@CJ, and a Lyndhurst #ri$e. "he left 'ollins
(ollege in =>EF with a bachelor,s degree in 5nglish and
\K,DDD from her first ma*or award, the 7ook%of%the%
+onth (ollege 5nglish .riting (ontest #ri$e, and
embarked on a career that has spanned KD years.
&he affiliation in :entucky has excited and
energi$ed "mith. T.atching people express themselves
in language,, she muses,, is like watching them fall in
love., "he is particularly excited and inspired by the
older participants in her workshops, especially the
ones who have only recently learned to read and write.
For the first time, she says, they are able to express on
paper the scores of stories that have been stored in
their heads for years. -nd%lucky for them%they have
Lee "mith to help.
T2 love to work with older writers,, says "mith. T-t
North (arolina "tate University 2 have lots of older
graduate students, but it,s good to get out of the
academic community where people are always
deconstructing texts and talking about symbolism.
&his experience in :entucky puts the emphasis on
communication and how thrilling it is to read and
write.,
For both "mith and the adults enrolled in the
literacy program, the ultimate fulfillment is seeing
their words in print for the first time. T&he publishers
are Lila .allace, :inko,s, and me,, says "mith wit a
laugh. T.e,ve already printed two autobiographies in
batches of =,DDD and we,re selling out., "ome of the
manuscripts are being used by other writing
workshops as models of how writing can be taught in
the community.
Next year "mith will return to teaching at North
(arolina "tate University in 8aleigh. "he and her
second husband, 'al (rowther, a syndicated *ournalist
and columnist for B;ford "merican maga$ine, have
recently bought an old house in 'illsborough, North
(arolina, eight miles from their former (hapel 'ill
home. &hey,ve also purchased a cabin in efferson,
North (arolina, where "mith grows dahlias and roses
and nourishes HD apple trees. &he cabin and the
surrounding woods remind her of 9rundy and her
roots and the people who have been her greatest
source of inspiration.
7ut while she,s living other areas of her life, plots
are still bu$$ing around in her head, and she rarely
takes a vacation from her stories. Louis 8ubin, "mith,s
former writing teacher, has said of her4 TLee,s a real
writer. "he writes all the time. "he writes when she,s
146
down. "he writes when she,s up%that,s *ust her way of
dealing with the world.,
T2 write fiction the way other people write in their
*ournals,, "mith says. T2t helps me keep track of time so
2 can see what 2,m up to., 6ften writing helps her work
through real%life trauma. 2t,s her personal brand of
therapy, the way she deals with whatever emotional
ups and downs she inherited from her beloved manic%
depressive parents. "he never discussed their illness
while they were alive, but it,s something she is dealing
with openly and honestly now. T"ometimes when 2 look
back at something 2,ve written, 2 remember what was
going on in my life at that time, and 2 see how 2
worked it out through the writing., &he deaths of
both her parents in recent years and their constant
history of depression have bee overwhelming, but
writing, she says, has actually helped her to work
through and come to terms with such obstacles.
Now, life generally seems balmy. T2 want more time
with 'al, more years,, "mith says adoringly of her
husband. I&he two met at 3uke University,s 5vening
(ollege, where both were teaching writing courses.J
"mith never loses her enthusiasm for teaching
classes and workshops. -lthough she firmly believes
that such programs have given rise to a proliferation
of good writers, T&he terrible paradox,, she says, T is
that even though there are more good writers now
than ever before, publishers are publishing less
literary fiction. 2n fact, almost nobody who is a good
literary writer ever makes it any more., -mong those
who have made it, a few of her current favorites are
8ichard 7ausch, Larry 7rown, ames Lee 7urke, (lyde
5dgerton, 5llen 9ilchrist, &oni +orrison, Lewis
Nordan, and -nne &yler.
"mith,s pro*ect that she calls Ta stocking stuffer,
was published by -lgon!uin in the fall of =>>E.
-lthough most of her books have been published by
#utnam, she has always wanted to do a pro*ect with
-lgon!uin editor "hannon 8avenel, her old friend
from 'ollins. Like Fair and Tender $adies, which is
an epistolary novel based on actual letters "mith found
at a garage sale, The -hristmas $etters is a novella
composed of actual (hristmas letters from three
generations of women in the same family. 7ut the
resemblance stops there. T&he new book also involves
recipes,, she says. T2 guess 2 could tell my entire life
story through food. You know how we went through
that phase using (ool .hip and cream of mushroom
soup0 -nd then we went on to fondue, then !uiche0
Now it,s salsa., 8ecently she has also been busy
promoting her newest book, Aews of the #&irit, a
collection of short stories and novellas released in
"eptember by #utnam, and is working on new stories.
"mith has come full circle, from discovering ames
"till,s novel and becoming a friend of the author
himself at the 'indman (enter in :entucky, to seeing
her first novel, The $ast 3ay the 3og*ushes Bloomed,
recently reprinted in paperback by Louisiana "tate
University #ress as part of a series of "outhern
reissues. Now she is working on the songs and stories
of Florida "lone, a ballad singer famous around :nott
(ounty, and participating in a workshop for public
school teachers in :entucky. +eanwhile, she has
donated her father,s former dime store in 9rundy to
the town for the use as a teen center. -nd with all this
boundless energy and enthusiasm for life, "mith
continues to write incessantly and to support the work
of others. "he is fascinated by the writing of Lou
(rabtree, a woman in her @Ds in -bingdon, <irginia,
who, like everyone else who meets her, has become
Lee "mith,s friend. TUntil L"U recently published her
collection, #tories from #weet 4oller, Lou had been
writing her whole life without any thought of
publication,, says "mith, with her usual exuberance.
T6nce 2 said to her, TLou, what would you do if
somebody told you that you weren,t allowed to write
anymore0, TT.ell,, Lou replied, T2 reckon 2,d *ust have
to sneak off and do it.,,
"o would Lee "mith4 she,d *ust sneak off and do it.
In Her &#n 6ords
-lthough 2 don,t usually write autobiographical
fiction, my main character in one of the short stories
from News and the "pirit sounds suspiciously like the
girl 2 used to be4 T+ore than anything else in the world,
2 wanted to be a writer. 2 didn,t want to learn to write,
of course. 2 *ust wanted to be a writer, and 2 often
pictured myself poised at the foggy edge of a cliff
somewhere in the south of France, wearing a cape,
drawing furiously on a long cigarette, hollow%cheeked
and haunted. 2 had been romantically dedicated to the
grand idea of Tbeing a writer, ever since 2 can
remember.,
2 started telling stories as soon as 2 could talk ) true
stories, and made%up stories, too. 2t has always been
hard for me to tell the difference between them.
+y father was fond of saying that 2 would climb a
tree to tell a lie rather than stand on the ground to tell
the truth. 2n fact, in the mountains of southwestern
<irginia where 2 grew up, a lie was often called a story,
and well do 2 remember being shaken until my teeth
rattled with the stern admonition, T3on,t you tell me
no story, nowL,
7ut he was hardly one to talk. 7oth my mama and
my father were natural storytellers themselves. +y
mama ) a home ec. teacher from the 5astern shore of
147
<irginia ) was one of those "outhern women who can
) and did ) make a story out of thin air, out of
anything ) a trip to the drugstore, something
somebody said to her in the church. +y father liked to
drink a little and recite :ipling out loud. 'e came from
right there, from a big mountain family of storytelling
3emocrats who would sit on the porch and place H?
dollar bets on which bird would fly first off a telephone
wire. &hey were all big talkers.
2 got hooked on stories early, and as soon as 2 could
write, 2 started writing them down. 2 wrote my first
novel on my mother,s stationery when 2 was eight. 2t
featured as main characters my two favorite people at
that time4 -dlai "tevenson and ane 8ussell. 2n my
novel, they fell in love and then went west together in a
covered wagon.
6nce there, they became ) inexplicably )
+ormonsL 5ven at that age, 2 was fixed upon glamour
and flight, two themes 2 returned to again and again as
2 wrote my way throughout high school, then college.
3ecades later, 2,m still at it. Narrative is as
necessary to me as breathing, as air. 2 write for the
reason 2,ve always done so4 simply to survive. &o make
sense of my life. 2 never know what 2 think until 2 read
what 2,ve written. -nd 2 refuse to lead an une;amined
life. No matter how painful it is, 2 intend to know
what,s going on. &he writing itself is a source of
strength for me, a way to make it through the night.
&he story has always served this function, 2 believe,
from the beginning of time. 2n the telling of it, we
discover who we are, why we exist, what we should do.
2t brings order and delight. 2ts form is inherently
pleasing, and deeply satisfying to us. 7ecause it has a
beginning, a middle, and an end, it gives a
recogni$able shape to the muddle and chaos of our
lives.
Good$ye to the Sunset Man
Lee *mith bids farewell to her son" (osh
B : L . . S M I T H
6nce again my husband and 2 line up for sunset
cruise tickets on the tall vintage schooner .estern
Union, which sways in its dock here at the end of
.illiam "treet, here at the end of -merica.
T'ow many0, &he handsome blonde in the ticket
booth looks like she used to be a man.
T&hree,, 2 say.
T&wo,, 'al says, turning around to look at me.
T"o how many is it0, "he drums her long nails on
the wooden counter.
T&wo,, 'al says. 'e gives her his credit card.
"he slides over two tickets for the sunset cruise and
two coupons for free drinks, which we order on the
roof of the "chooner .harf 7ar where we wait until
time to board. &his year we are here without my son,
osh, who died in his sleep this past 6ct. HE. &he cause
of his death was an Tacute myocardiopathy,, the
collapse of an enlarged heart brought about, in part, 2
believe, by all the weight he had gained while taking an
antipsychotic drug. 'e was KK; he had been sick for
half his life, doing daily heroic battle with the brain
disorder that first struck while he was in a program for
gifted teen musicians at the 7erklee (ollege of +usic
in 7oston, the summer between his *unior and senior
years in high school.
7ack in (hapel 'ill, we,d started getting wilder and
wilder phone calls from him about Tbirds flying too
close to the sun,, reports of all%night practice sessions
on the piano, strange encounters in the park, and no
sleep ) no sleep, ever. 'e flew home in a straight
*acket.
&hen the hospitali$ations began ) first a lengthy
stay at 'olly 'ill in 8aleigh followed by a short, heart%
breaking try at returning home to normalcy and
(hapel 'ill 'igh; then longterm care at 'ighland
'ospital in -sheville, where he lived for the next four
years, sometimes in the hospital itself, sometimes in
their group home, sometimes in an apartment with
participation in their day program. For a while he was
better, then not. -ll kinds of fantasies and scenarios
rolled through his head. 'e moved, talked and dressed
bi$arrely; he couldn,t remember anything; he couldn,t
even read. .e brought him back to UN(
Neurosciences 'ospital. &hey referred him to
3orothea 3ix,s test program for the new Twonder drug,
clo$apine, *ust legali$ed in this country I=>>HJ.
Up on that beautiful, windy hill looking out over
the city of 8aleigh, osh started getting truly better for
the first time. 'e could participate in a real
conversation; he could make a *oke. 2t was literally a
miracle.
'e was able to leave the hospital and enter
(aramore (ommunity in (hapel 'ill, which offered
vocational rehabilitation, a group home and then a
supervised apartment ) as well as a lot of camaraderie.
'e came in with some great stories as he worked with
the (aramore lawn and housecleaning business ... my
favorite being the time the housecleaning crew dared
one of the gang to *ump into the baptismal pool at a
local church they were cleaning ) and then they all
Tbapti$ed, him on the spot. 7efore long he graduated
into a real *ob at (arolina (leaners. -gainst all odds,
osh had become a Tworking man,, as he always
referred to himself; his pride in this was enormous.
&hough other hospitali$ations ITtune%ups,, he called
themJ would be re!uired from time to time, osh was
on his way. 'e lived in his own apartment, drove a car,
managed his weekly doctor visits, blood tests,
pharmacy trips and medication. 7ut as the most
important part of his own Ttreatment team,, he
steadfastly refused his doctor,s eventual urging to
switch to one of the newer drugs, such as olan$apine,
risperidol or geodon, in hopes of *ump%starting his
metabolism. (lo$apine had given him back his life,
and he didn,t want to give it up. -nd in spite of his
weight and smoking, he seemed healthy enough;
physical examinations didn,t ring any warning bells.
osh became a familiar figure in (hapel 'ill and
(arrboro, with friends and ac!uaintances all over town
) especially his regular haunts such as .eaver "treet
and (affe 3riade, where he went every day. osh
worked at -kai 'ana apanese 8estaurant in (arrboro
14*
for the last seven years of his life, doing everything
from washing dishes to prep work to lunchtime sushi
chef. 'e was the first one there every morning ) he
opened up and started preparing the rice. 2t was his
favorite time of the day, as he often said. 'e played
piano at -kai 'ana every "aturday night4 a mix of *a$$,
blues and his own compositions.
&he live music produced by the .harf 7ar,s immy
7uffet wannabe band is way too loud, and our drinks,
when they come, are a startling shade of red, with
umbrellas in them. 'al raises his plastic glass high.
T'ere,s to the big guy,, he says. .e drain them.
osh considered the schooner trip a re!uisite for
his annual :ey .est experience. 'e loved the ritual of
it all, beginning when the crew invited the evening,s
passengers to participate in raising the mainsail. 'e
always went over to line up and pull, passing the
halyard hand over hand to the next guy. 'e loved to
stand at the rail as we passed the town dock and
+allory "!uare, where all the weird pageantry of the
sunset was already in full swing4 the tourists, the guy
with the trained housecats, the flame swallower, the
escape artist tied up in chains, the oddly terrifying
cookie lady. &he aging hippie musician on board
invariably cranked up T"loop ohn 7ee, as we headed
out to sea while the sun sank lower on the starboard
side. &he sun was so bright that 2 couldn,t even face it
without sunglasses, but osh never wore them. 'e *ust
sat there perfectly still, staring straight into the sun, a
little smile playing around his lips.
.hat thoughts went through his head on that last
voyage0
#erhaps more to the point, what thoughts did not
go through his head, in this later stage of
schi$ophrenia characteri$ed by Tblank mind, and Tlack
of affect0, 9one the voices, gone the visions, gone the
colored lights, to be replaced by ... what0 +aybe
nothing, like the bodhisattva, a person who has
achieved the final apotheosis, beyond desire and self.
'ere he sat, an immense man in a black &%shirt and
blue *eans, silent, calm, apparently at peace. 'e no
longer seemed to know what he had lost. "ome call
this a Tblessing,, and some days 2 am among them; but
most days 2 am not, remembering instead that wild
boy of =F who wanted the world ) all the music; all the
friends, 7+O bikes and skateboards; all the poetry; all
the girls ) all the life there ever was.
Now the captain is blowing the conch shell from the
deck of the .estern Union. .e stand. &he sun slants
into our eyes. - bree$e is coming up. 2 pull on my
windbreaker, fingering the little bron$e vial of ashes in
my pocket.
2t,s time.
Last anuary IHDDKJ osh and 2 flew into :ey .est
together, arriving late on a cool and blustery &uesday
night around > p.m. .ind rattled the palm fronds as
we walked out onto the brightly lit but somehow lonely
looking 3uval "treet. 6nly a few people scurried past,
their shoulders hunched against the wind. .e passed
the funky (hicken "tore, a Tsafe house, for the much%
maligned chickens that have overrun :ey .est. .e
passed the "crub (lub, an Tadult, bathhouse that
usually featured its scantily clad ladies blowing
bubbles over the balcony rail, calling out, T'i thereL
Feeling dirty0 Need a bath0, to the amused passersby.
7ut it was too cool for bubbles that night, and the girls
were all inside behind their red door. &he wind
whipped paper trash along the street.
.e crossed 3uval and went into the friendly
looking (offee and &ea 'ouse, where big trees
overhung an old bungalow with a porch and yard filled
with comfortable, mismatched furniture. osh was
very tired. 'e had that out%of%it, blank look he
sometimes gets, almost vegetative, like a big sweet
potato. .e walked up the concrete steps and into the
bar with its comforting, helpful smell of coffee
brewing. #eople clustered at little tables, on sofas, in
armchairs in ad*acent rooms, talking and reading the
newspapers strewn everyplace.
&he bartender,s long, gray hair was pulled back
into a ponytail. 'e came over to osh and said, T.hat
can 2 get for you, sir0,
T.ell, 2,ll tell you,, osh said in a surprisingly loud
voice Imaybe it even surprised himJ, shaking his head
like a dog coming up from under the water. T2,ll tell
you, buddy, 2 don,t know what the hell it is 2 want, and
2 don,t know where the hell it is 2 am, and 2 don,t know
what the hell it is 2,m doingL,
'eads along the bar swiveled, and the bartender
burst out laughing. T2n that case, sir, you,ve come to
the right islandL, he announced, as everybody
applauded.
osh had found his :ey .est home for the next
week. -t bars or beaches, he talked to everybody; you
never knew what he was going to say next.
'e told a great version of the (hristmas story, too,
conflating the 7ible with 6. 'enry4 T6nce upon a time
there was a young girl who was very sick, and
somehow she got the idea that she would die when all
the leaves fell off the tree that grew *ust outside her
bedroom window. 6ne by one they dropped. "he got
sicker and sicker. Finally there was only one red leaf
left on the tree; she was *ust about to die. &hat night
while she was asleep, esus flew up to her window.
esus was a French artist. 'e wore a red beret. "o he
brought his box of oil paints with him and painted red
leaves all over the window, finishing *ust as the sun
came up and the last red leaf fluttered down to the
ground. &hen he flew away. &hen she woke up, and she
was well, and it was (hristmas.,
-nswering the !uestion of whether or not he
believed in esus, he said, T.ell, 2 don,t know. 5very
time 2,m in the hospital, there are at least three people
in there who think they,re esus. "o sometimes 2 think,
well, maybe esus wasn,t esus at all ) maybe he was
*ust the first schi$ophrenic.,
osh,s eventual diagnosis was schi$o%affective,
meaning partly schi$ophrenic Ihis mind did not work
logically, his senses were often unreliable, his grip on
reality sometimes tenuousJ and partly bipolar )
actually a blessing, since the characteristic Tups and
downs, allowed him more expression and empathy.
7ut diagnosis is tricky at best. &he sudden onset of
these ma*or brain disorders usually occurs in the late
14+
teens or early twenties, and it,s usually severe. 7ut all
psychosis looks alike at first. &here,s no way to
distinguish between the Thighs, of bipolar illness, for
instance, and the florid stage of schi$ophrenia ) or
even a garden variety L"3 psychosis. 8eality had fled
in every case. &he best doctors make no claims; T.ait
and see,, they say.
-s far as prognosis goes, medical folklore holds to a
Trule of three,4 -bout a third of all people with ma*or
psychotic episodes will actually get well, such as :urt
<onnegut,s son, +ark, now a physician who wrote the
memoir Eden E;&ress. &he next, larger group will be
in and out of hospitals and programs for the rest of
their lives, with wildly varying degrees of success in
work and life situations; the final group will have
recalcitrant, persistent illnesses which may re!uire
lifelong care or hospitali$ation ) though now, 2
suspect, the new drugs and community care models
have shrunk this group considerably.
7ut here,s the bottom line4 -ll mental illnesses are
treatable. 6ften, brain chemistry has to be ad*usted
with medication. 2f symptoms occur, go to the doctor.
3on,t downplay it, don,t hide it ) seek treatment
immediately. +ental illness is no more embarrassing
than diabetes. -nd the earlier we get treatment, the
more effective it will be. 2 myself could never have
made it through this past year of grief and depression
without both counseling and medication. .e are also
lucky to have organi$ations and support groups in this
area to help us and our families cope. -s osh proved,
very real, valid and full lives can be lived within these
illnesses.
Now my husband and 2 sit discreetly at the very
back of the .estern Union, right behind the captain at
the wheel. 'e has given the order; the crew has cried
Tfire in the hole, and shot off the cannon. .e have
covered our ears. .e have gotten our complimentary
wine, our conch chowder. .e have listened to our
shipmates talk about how much snow they left behind
in (leveland, how many grandchildren they have, and
how one guy played hockey for 'opkins on that great
team in =>E?. &hen we duck as, with a great whoosh of
the *ib, we come about. .e sit !uietly, holding hands,
hard. Now there,s a lot of wind. -ll around us, people
are putting on their *ackets.
2ndependent of any of this, the sky puts on its big
show, gearing up for sunset. &he sun speeds up as it
sinks lower and lower. &he water turns into a sheet of
silver, like a mirror.
Like 'al, osh was a ma*or sunset man, always
looking for that legendary green flash right after the
sunset, which nobody 2 know has ever actually seen,
though everybody claims to have known somebody
who has seen it. 'ere where sunset is a religion, we
never miss the moment. 2n :ey .est the sun grows
huge and spreads out when it touches the water, so
that it,s no longer round at all but a glowing red
beehive shape that plunges down abruptly to the
thunderous applause of the revelers back at +allory
"!uare.
T9et ready,, 'al says in my ear. T7ut look, there,s a
cloud bank, it,s not going to go all the way.,
2 twist the top of the vial in my windbreaker pocket.
&he sun glows neon red, cut off at the bottom by
clouds.
- hush falls over the whole crowd on board the
.estern Union. 5verybody faces west. (ameras are
raised. 2t is happening.
T7on voyage,, 'al says. "uddenly, the sun is gone.
&he crowd cheers. 2 throw the ashes out on the water
behind us; like a puff of smoke, they disappear
immediately into the wake. 2 say, T9oodbye, baby.,
Nobody notices. &he water turns into mother of pearl,
shining pink all the way from our schooner to the
hori$on. &he scalloped edge of the puffy clouds goes
from pink to gold. &he crowd goes Taah., 2ood*ye
*a*y. 7ut no green flash. &he crowd stretches, they
move, they mill around on deck. &he light fades and
stars come out.
2 don,t agree with the theory that mental illness
conveys certain gifts. 5ven if this sometimes seems to
be the case, as in bipolar disorder,s fre!uent
association with creativity, those gifts are not worth
the pain and devastating losses the illness also brings
with it. Yet sometimes there are moments....
2 am remembering one starry summer night back
in North (arolina, the kind of breathtakingly beautiful
summer night of all our dreams, when osh and 2 took
a long walk around our village. 'e,d been staying with
us for several days because he was too sick to stay in
his own apartment. 'e,d been deteriorating for
months, and his doctor had arranged his admission to
UN(,s Neurosciences 'ospital for the next morning.
osh didn,t know this yet. 7ut he was always
Tcompliant,, as they call it. .e were very lucky in this.
+y friend,s son wouldn,t take his medicine and chose
to live on the street; she never knew where he was.
"chi$ophrenia is like an umbrella diagnosis covering a
whole crowd of very different illnesses; but very few
people with brain disorders actually become violent,
despite the stereotype.
osh liked the hospital. 2t was safe, and the world
he,d been in that week in North (arolina was not safe,
not at all, a world where strangers were talking about
him and people he used to know inhabited other
people,s bodies and tables turned into spiders and all
the familiar landmarks disappeared so that he couldn,t
find his way anywhere. 'e couldn,t sleep, he couldn,t
drive, he couldn,t think.
Yet on that summer night in 'illsborough, a
wonderful thing happened. .e were walking through
the alley between the old (onfederate cemetery and
our back yard when we ran into our neighbor -llan.
T'i there, osh,, -llan said.
2nstead of replying, osh sang out a single note of
music.
T- flat,, he said. 2t hung in the hot honeysuckle air.
TNice,, -llan said, passing on.
&he alley ended at &ryon "treet, where we stepped
onto the sidewalk. - young girl hurried past.
T( sharp,, osh said, then sang it out.
&he girl looked at him before she disappeared into
the #resbyterian (hurch.
15,
.e crossed the street and walked past the young
policemen getting out of his car in front of the police
station.
T+iddle (,, osh said, humming.
"ince it was one of 'illsborough,s TLast Friday,
street fairs, we ran into more and more people as we
headed toward the center of town. For each one, osh
had a musical note ) or a chord, for a pair or a group.
T.hat,s up0, 2 finally asked.
T.ell, you know 2 have perfect pitch,, he said ) 2
nodded, though he did not ) ,and everybody we see
has a special musical note, and 2 can hear every one.,
'e broke off to sing a high chord for a couple of young
teen girls, then dropped into a lower register for a
retired couple eating ice cream cones.
T'ello,, another neighbor said, smiling when osh
hummed back at him.
"o it went all over town. 5ven some of the buildings
had notes, apparently4 the old +asonic 'all, the
courthouse, the corner bar. osh was singing his heart
out. -nd almost ) almost ) it was a song, the
symphony of 'illsborough. .e were both exhilarated.
.e walked and walked. 7y the time we got back home,
he was exhausted. Finally he slept. &he next day, he
went into the hospital.
osh loved ames &aylor, especially his song TFire
and 8ain., 7ut we were too conservative, or
chickenshit, or something, to put it on his tombstone,
the same way we were Tnot cool enough,, as osh put it,
to walk down the aisle to T#urple 8ain, Ihis ideaJ while
he played the piano on the day we got married in =>@?.
7ut now 2 say the words to 'al as the light fades
slowly on the water behind us.
7!ve seen fire and 7!ve seen rain
7!ve seen sunny days that 7 thought would never
end
7!ve seen lonely times when 7 could not find a
friend
But 7 always thought that 7!d see you again.
.ell, 2 won,t. 2 know this. 7ut what a privilege it
was to live on this earth with him, what a privilege it
was to be his mother. &here will be a lessening of pain,
there will be consolations, 2 can tell. 7ut as (.". Lewis
wrote in Bn 2rief4 T8eality never repeats... . &hat is
what we should all like, the happy past restored,... as it
can never be, and maybe never was. .ho,s got perfect
pitch, anyway0
Yet to have children ) or simply to experience great
love for any person at all ) is to throw yourself wide
open to the possibility of pain at any moment. 7ut 2
would not choose otherwise. Not now, not ever. Like
every parent with a disabled child, my greatest fear
used to be that 2 would die first. T2 can,t die,, 2 always
said whenever any risky undertaking was proposed. "o
now 2 can die. 7ut 2 don,t want to. 2nstead, 2 want to
live as hard as 2 can, burning up the days in honor of
his sweet, hard life.
Night falls on the schooner ride back to :ey .est. 2
clutch the bron$e vial that held some of osh,s ashes,
tracing its engraved design with my finger. &he wind
blows my hair. &he young couple in front of us are
making out.
TLet,s get some oysters at -lon$o,s,, 'al says, and
suddenly 2 reali$e that 2,m starving.
TLook,, the captain says, pointing up. T<enus.,
"ure enough. &hen we see the 7ig 3ipper, 6rion,
+ars. .here,s that French artist with the red beret0
No sign of him, and no green flash, either ) but stars.
- whole sky full of them by the time we slide into the
dock at the end of .illiam "treet.
$ee #mith lives in 4ills*orough with her hus*and,
4al -rowther. 4er latest novel is &he Last 9irls.
<oshua Field Seay
=HUHKUE>%=DUHEUDK
('-#5L '2LL ) oshua Field "eay, KH, died in his sleep early
"unday, 6ct. HE, HDDK. osh was born on 3ec. HK, =>E>, in
&uscaloosa, -la. 'e moved with his family to Nashville, &enn., in
=>F= and lived there until =>FC, when his family came to (hapel 'ill.
'e is survived by his father, ames "eay; his mother, Lee "mith;
ames, wife, (aroline "eay, and Lee,s husband, 'arold (rowther.
-lso surviving are his stepsister, -mity (rowther of (hapel 'ill; his
brother, #age "eay, who resides in Nashville, &enn., with his wife,
5rin, and osh,s beloved niece, Lucy.
osh attended (hapel 'ill public schools and UN(%-sheville.
For the past seven years he was employed at -kai 'ana apanese
8estaurant in (arrboro. -mong his duties there were his lively and
popular "aturday evening piano sets, a uni!ue mix of blues and *a$$
covers along with his own compositions. 'e recently assembled a
tape of his compositions which, with signature humor, he entitled
TFive Not "o 5asy #ieces., osh was beset by mental illness in his
teen years, but he came to regard the amelioration of that illness as
part of his daily work. 'e was never embittered by what life dealt
him. 2n the words of a friend, T'e bore it with !uiet bravery and
distinction, at a cost few of the rest of us can begin to calculate., osh
never wavered in his determination to keep that illness from
defeating him. 'is absence will leave an immense void in the lives of
his family and friends.
<ames Seay
151
/ngel Le'ine
Bernard Malamud
To the memory of
Ro*ert Warshow
+anischewit$, a tailor, in his fifty%first year suffered
many reverses and indignities. #reviously a man of
comfortable means, he overnight lost all he had when
his establishment caught fire, and, because a meal
container of cleaning fluid exploded, burned to the
ground. -lthough +anischewit$ was insured, damage
suits against him by two customers who had been
seriously hurt in the flames deprived him of every
penny he had collected. -t almost the same time, his
son, of much promise, was killed in the war, and his
daughter, without a word of warning, married a
worthless lout and disappeared with him, as if off the
face of the earth. &hereafter +anischewit$ became the
victim of incessant excruciating backaches that knifed
him over in pain, and he found himself unable to work
even as a presser ) the only *ob available to him ) for
more than an hour or two daily, because after that the
pain from standing became maddening. 'is Leah, a
good wife and mother, who had taken in washing
began before his eyes to waste away. "uffering marked
shortness of breath, she at last became seriously ill and
took to her bed. &he doctor a former customer of
+anischewit$, who out of pity treated them, at first
had difficulty diagnosing her ailment but later put it
down as hardening of the arteries, at an advanced
stage. 'e took +anischewit$ aside, prescribed
complete rest for her, and in whispers gave him to
know there was little hope.
&hroughout his trials +anischewit$ had remained
somewhat stoic, almost unbelieving that all this had
descended upon his head, as if it were happening , let
us say, to an ac!uaintance, or to some distant relative;
it was in sheer !uantity of woe incomprehensible. 2t
was also ridiculous, un*ust, and because he had always
been a religious manGan affront to 9od. &his,
+anischewit$ fanatically believed amid all his
suffering. .hen, however, his burden had grown too
crushingly heavy to be borne alone, he eased himself
into a chair and with shut hollow eyes prayed4 /+y
dear 9od, my soul, sweetheart, did 2 deserve this to
happen to me01 7ut recogni$ing the worthlessness of
this thought, he compelled himself to put complaint
aside and prayed humbly for assistance4 /9ive to Leah
back her health, and give to me, for myself, that 2
should not feel pain in every step 2 make. 'elp now, or
tomorrow we are dead. &his 2 don,t have to tell you.1
-nd +anischewit$, aching all over and grief%stricken,
wept.
+anischewit$,s flat, which he had moved into after
the disastrous fire, was a meagre one, furnished with a
few sticks of chairs, a table, and bed, in one of the
poorer sections of the city. &here were three rooms4 a
living room, small, poorly papered; an apology for a
kitchen, with a wooden icebox; and the comparatively
large bedroom where Leah lay in a second%hand bed,
panting for breath. &he bedroom was the warmest
room of the house and it was here, after his outburst to
9od, that +anischewit$, by the light of two small bulbs
overhead, sat reading his ewish newspaper. 'e was
not truly reading, because his thoughts were
everywhere but on the print. 'owever the print offered
a convenient resting place for his eyes; and a word or
two, when he permitted himself to comprehend them,
indeed had the effect of aiding him momentarily to
forget his troubles. -fter a while he discovered, to his
surprise, that he was actively scanning the news,
searching for an item of great interest to him. 5xactly
what its contents would be he could not sayGuntil he
reali$ed with astonishment that he was expecting to
discover something regarding himself. -t that moment
he ga$ed up with the distinct impression that someone
had entered the apartment, though he could not
remember having heard the sound of the door.
+anischewit$ looked around4 the room was still, Leah
sleeping peacefully. 'alf%frightened, he observed her
until he became convinced she was not dead; then, still
disturbed by the thought of an unannounced visitor,
he stumbled into the living room, and there had the
shock of his life, for at the table sat a burly Negro
reading a newspaper he had folded up to fit into one
hand.
1.hat do you want here01 +anischewit$ cried out
in fright.
&he Negro put down the paper and glanced up with
a gentle smile. /9ood evening.1 'e seemed not to be
sure of himself, as if he had happened into the wrong
house. 'e was a large man, bonily built, with a heavy
head covered by a hard derby hat, which he made no
attempt to remove. 'is eyes seemed sad, but his lips,
above which he wore a slight moustache, were on the
verge of laughter; he was not otherwise prepossessing.
&he cuffs of his sleeves, +anischewit$ noted, were
frayed to the lining, and the dark suit was badly fitted.
'e had very large feet. 8ecovering from his fright,
+anischewit$ guessed he was being visited by a case
worker from the .elfare 3epartmentGsome came at
nightGfor he had recently applied for relief.
&herefore he lowered himself into a chair opposite
the Negro, returning, as well as he was able, the man,s
somewhat troubled although pleasant smile. &he
former tailor sat stiffly but patiently at the table,
waiting for the investigator to take out his pad and
152
pencil and begin asking !uestions; but before long he
became convinced the man intended to do nothing of
the sort.
1.ho are you0, +anischewit$ asked uneasily.
12f 2 may, insofar as one is able to, identify myself,
2 bear the name of -lexander Levine.1
3espite himself, a trace of smile appeared on
+anischewit$,s bitter lips.
1You said Levine01 he politely in!uired.
&he Negro nodded. /&hat is exactly right.1
(arrying the *est a bit further, +anischewit$ asked,
/You are maybe ewish01
1-ll my life 2 was, most willingly.1
+anischewit$ hesitated. 'e had heard of black
ews, but had never met one. 2t gave an unusual
sensation.
8ecogni$ing in afterthought something strange
about the tense of Levine,s remark, he said doubtfully,
/You ain,t ewish any more01
Levine, at this point, removed his hat, but
immediately replaced it. 'e said !uietly, /2 have
recently been discarnated into an angel. -s such 2 offer
you my humble assistance, if to offer is within my
province and abilityGin the best sense.1 'e lowered
his eyes in apology. /.hich calls for added
explanation4 2 am what 2 am granted to be, and at
present the completion is in the future.1
1.hat kind of angel is this01 +anischewit$ gravely
asked.
1- bona fide angel of 9od, within prescribed
limitations,1 answered Levine, /not to be confused
with the members of any sect, order, or organi$ation
here on earth operating under a similar name.1
+anischewit$ was thoroughly disturbed. 'e had
been expecting something but not !uite this. .hat sort
of mockery was it 0 provided Levine was an angelGof a
faithful servant who had from childhood lived in the
synagogues and houses of study, concerned with 'is
word0
&o test Levine he asked, /&hen where are your
wings01
&he Negro blushed as well as he was able.
+anischewit$ understood this from his expression.
/Under certain circumstances we lose privileges and
prerogatives upon returning to earth no matter for
what purpose, or endeavouring to assist whosoever.1
1"o tell me,1 +anischewit$ said triumphantly,
/how did you get here01
12 was transmitted.1
"till troubled, the tailor said, /2f you are a ew, say
the blessing for bread.1
Levine recited it in sonorous 'ebrew.
-lthough moved by the familiar words,
+anischewit$ still could not believe he was dealing
with an angel.
"omewhat angrily he demanded, /2f you are an
angel, show me proof.1
Levine wet his lips. /Frankly, 2 cannot perform
either miracles or near miracles, due to the fact that 2
am in a condition of probation. 'ow long that will
persist or even consist, 2 admit, depends on the
outcome.1
+anischewit$ racked his brains for some means of
causing Levine positively to reveal his true identity,
when the Negro spoke again4
12t was given me to understand that both you and
your wife re!uire assistance of a salubrious nature01
&he tailor could not rid himself of the feeling that
he was the butt of some *okester. 2s this what a ewish
angel looks like0 he thought. &his 2 am not convinced.
7ut he asked one last !uestion. /"o if 9od sends to
me an angel, why a black0 .hy not a white that there
are so many of them01
12t was my turn to go next,1 Levine explained.
+anischewit$ could not be convinced. /2 think you
are a faker.1
Levine slowly rose.. 'is eyes showed
disappointment and worry. /+r. +anischewit$,1 he
said tonelessly, /if you should desire me to be of
assistance to you any time in the near future, or
possibly before, 2 can be found1Ghe cast a !uick
glance at his fingernailsG1in 'arlem.1
'e was by then gone.
&he next day +anischewit$ felt some relief from
his backache and was able to work four hours at
pressing. &he day after, he put in six; and the third day
four again. Leah sat up a little and asked for some
halvah to suck. 7ut on the fourth day the stabbing,
breaking ache returned to his back, and Leah once
again lay supine, breathing with blue%lipped difficulty.
+anischewit$ was miserably disappointed at the
return of his active pain, and suffering. 'e had hoped
for a longer interval of easement, long enough to have
some thought other than of himself and his troubles.
3ay by day, hour by hour, minute after minute, he
lived in pain, with pain as his only memory, and
!uestioned the necessity of it, inveighed against it, and
occasionally though with affection, against 9od. .hy
so much, 9ottenyu0 2f 'e wanted to teach 'is servant
a lesson for some reason, some cause ) the nature of
'is natureGto teach him, say, for reasons of his
weakness, his neglect of 9od during his years of
prosperityGgive him a little lesson, why then, any one
of the tragedies that had happened to him, any one
would have sufficed to chasten him. 7ut all together )
the loss of his means of livelihood, of both his children,
the health of Leah and himself ) that was too much to
ask one frail%boned man to endure. .ho, after all, was
+anischewit$ that he had been given so much to
suffer0 - tailor. (ertainly not a man of talent. Upon
him suffering was largely wasted. 2t went nowhere,
into nothing4 into more pain. 'is pain did not earn
him bread, nor fill the cracks in the wall, nor lift, in the
middle of the night, the kitchen table; only lay upon
him, sleepless, so sharply oppressively that he could
many times have shrieked yet not heard himself
through all the misery.
2n this mood he gave no thought to +r. -lexander
Levine, but at moments when the pain wavered,
momentarily slightly diminishing, he sometimes
wondered if he had been mistaken to dismiss him. -
black ew and angel to bootGhard to believe, but
suppose he had been sent to succour him, and he,
153
+anischewit$, was in his blindness too blind to
comprehend0 2t was this thought that set him on the
knifepoint of agony.
&herefore the tailor, after much self%!uestioning
and doubt, decided he would seek the self%styled angel
in 'arlem. 6f course he had great difficulty, because
he had not asked for specific directions, and all
movement was tedious to him. &he subway took him
to ==Eth "treet, and from there he wandered in a dark
world. 2t was vast and its lights lit nothing.
5verywhere were shadows, often moving.
+anischewit$ hobbled along painfully, with the aid of
a cane; and not knowing where to seek in the
blackened tenement buildings, looked fruitlessly into
store windows. 2n the stores he saw people and
everybody was black. 2t was an ama$ing thing to
observe. .hen he was too tired, too unhappy to go
farther, +anischewit$ stopped in front of a tailor,s
store. 6ut of familiarity with the appearance of it, and
with some heartbreak, he entered. &he tailor, an old
skinny Negro with a mop of woolly gray hair, was
sitting cross%legged on his workbench, sewing a pair of
full%dress pants that had a ra$or rent all the way down
the seat.
1You,ll excuse me, please, gentleman,1 said
+anischewit$, admiring the tailor,s deft, thimbled
fingerwork, /but you know maybe somebody by the
name of -lexander Levine01
&he tailor, who, +anischewit$ thought, seemed
somewhat antagonistic to him, scratched his scalp.
1(ain,t say 2 ever heered dat name.1
1-lex%ander Lev%ine,1 +anischewit$ pronounced
slowly.
1(ain,t say 2 heered.1
3iscouraged, +anischewit$ was about to depart
when he remembered to say4 /'e is an angel, maybe.1
16h him,1 said the tailor, clucking. /'e hang out in
dat honkytonk down a ways.1 'e pointed with a
skinny finger and returned to the split pants.
+anischewit$ crossed the street against a red light
and was almost killed by a taxi. 6n the block; after the
next, the fourth store from the corner was a cabaret,
and the name in sparkling lights was 7ella,s. -shamed
to go in, +anischewit$ ga$ed through the neonlighted
window, and when the dancing couples parted and
drifted away, he discerned, at a table towards the rear,
Levine.
'e was sitting by himself, a cigarette butt dangling
from the corner of his mouth, playing solitaire with a
dirty pack of cards, and +anischewit$ felt a touch of
pity for him, for Levine had deteriorated in
appearance. 'is derby hat was dented and had a white
smudge across the top. 'is ill%fitting suit had grown
shabbier, as if he had been sleeping in it. 'is shoes
and the bottoms of his trousers were caked with with
mud, and his face covered by an impenetrable stubble
the colour of licorice. +anischewit$, though dreadfully
disappointed, was about to enter anyway, when a fat%
breasted Negress in a purple evening gown appeared
before Levine,s table, and with much laughter through
many white teeth, broke into a vigorous sinuous
shimmy. Levine looked straight at +anischewit$ with
a haunted expression, but the tailor was too paralysed
to move or acknowledge it. -s 7ella,s heavy gyrations
continued, Levine rose, his eyes lit in excitement. "he
embraced him with vigour, both his hands going
around her big restless buttocks, and they tangoed
together across the floor, loudly applauded by the
other customers. "he seemed to have lifted Levine off
his feet and his large shoes hung lifeless as they
danced. &hey slid past the window where
+anischewit$, white%faced, stood staring in. Levine
winked slyly and the tailor fled home.
Leah lay at death,s door. &hrough shrunken lips
she muttered concerning her girlhood, the sorrows of
the marriage bed, the loss of her babies, yet wept to
live. +anischewit$ tried not to listen, but even without
ears he would have heard her thoughts. 2t was not a
gift. &he doctor panted up the stairs, a broad but
bland, unshaven man Iit was "undayJ and shook his
head. - day at most, or two. 'e left at once, not
without mercy, to spare himself +anischewit$,s
multiplied despair; the man who never stopped
hurting. 'e would someday get him into a public
home.
+anischewit$ visited a synagogue and there spoke
to 9od, but 9od was strangely absent. &he tailor
searched his heart and found no hope. .hen she died
he would live dead. 'e considered taking his life
although he knew he never would. Yet it was
something to consider. (onsidering, you existed in
dregs. 'e railed against 9odGshouted his name
without love. (an you love a rock, a broom, an
emptiness0 7aring his breast, he smote the naked
bones, cursing himself for having believed.
&hat afternoon, asleep in a chair, he dreamed of
Levine. 'e was standing before a faded mirror,
preening small, decaying opalescent wings. /&his
means,1 mumbled +anischewit$, as he broke out of
sleep, /that it is possible he could be an angel.1
7egging a neighbour lady to look in on Leah,
occasionally wet her lips with a drop of water, he drew
on his thin coat, gripped his walking stick, changed
some pennies for a subway token, and rode to 'arlem.
'e recogni$ed this act as the last desperate one of woe4
to go without belief, seeking a black magician to
restore his wife to invalidism. Yet if there was no
choice, he did at last what was chosen.
'e hobbled to 7ella,s but the place had changed
hands. 2t was now, as he breathed, a synagogue in a
store. 2n the front, towards him, were several rows of
empty wooden benches. 2n the rear stood the -rk, its
portals of rough wood covered with many coloured
se!uins; under it a long table on which lay the sacred
scroll unrolled, illuminated by the dim light of a bulb
on a chain overhead. -round the table, as if fro$en to it
and the scroll, which they all touched with their
fingers, sat four Negros wearing black skullcaps. Now
as they read the 'oly .ord, +anischewit$ could,
through the plate%glass window, hear the singsong
chant of their voices. 6ne of them was old, with a grey
beard. 6ne was bubble%eyed. 6ne was humpbacked.
&he fourth was a boy, no older than thirteen. &heir
heads moved in rhythmic swaying. &ouched by this
154
sight from his childhood and youth, +anischewit$
entered and stood silent in the rear.
1Neshoma,1 said bubble eyes, pointing to a word
with a stubby finger. /Now what dat01
1&hat means soul,1 said the boy. 'e wore glasses.
1Let,s git on wid de commentary,1 said the old
man.
1-in,t necessary,1 said the humpback. /"ouls is
immaterial substance. &hat,s all. &he soul is derived in
that manner. &he immateriality is derived from the
substance, and they both, casually and otherwise,
derived from the soul. &here can be no higher.1
1&hat,s the highest.1
16ver de top.1
1.ay, way.1
1.ait a minute,1 said bubble eyes. /2 don,t see
what is dat immaterial substance. 'ow come de one
gits hitched to de odder0 "peak up, man.1 'e
addressed the humpback.
1-sk me something hard. 7ecause it is
substanceless immateriality. 2t couldn,t be closer
together, like the organs of the body under one skin.1
1'ear now,1 said the old man.
1-ll you done is switched de words.1
12t is the primum mobile, the substanceless
substance from which comes all things that were
incepted in the ideaGyou, me, and everything and
body else.1
1Now how dat happen0 +ake it sound simple.1
12t de speerit,1 said the old man. /6n de face of de
water moved de speerit. -n, dat was good. 2t say so in
de 7ook. From de speerit ari$ de man.1
17ut now listen here. 'ow come it become
substance, if it all de time a spirit01
19od alone done dat.1
1'olyL 'olyL #raise 'is Name.1
17ut has dis spirit got some kind of a shade or
colour01 asked bubble eyes, deadpan.
1+an, of course not. 2t colourless.1
1&hen how come we is coloured01 he said, with a
triumphant glare.
1-in,t got nought to do wid dat.1
12 still like to know.1
19od put the spirit in all things,1 answered the boy.
/'e put it in the green leaves an, the red flowers. 'e
put it in little gold fishes in the water an, in the big
blue sky. &hat,s how come it came to us.1
1-men.1
1#raise Lawd and utter loud 'is speechless name.1
17low de bugle till it break de sky.1
&hey fell silent, intent upon the next word.
+anischewit$ approached.
1You,ll excuse me,1 he said. /2 am looking for
-lexander Levine. You know him maybe01
1&hat,s the angel,1 said the boy.
16h, him,1 snuffed bubble eyes.
1You,ll find him at 7ella,s. 2t,s the establishment
right across the street,1 the humpback said.
+anischewit$ explained that he could not stay,
thanked them all, and limped across the street. 2t was
already night. &he city was dark and he could barely
find his way.
7ut 7ella,s was bursting with strains of blues.
&hrough the window +anischewit$ recogni$ed the
dancing crowd and among them sought Levine. 'e
was sitting loose%lipped at 7ella,s side table. &hey were
tippling from an almost empty whiskey fifth. Levine
had shed his old clothes, wore a shiny new checkered
suit, pearl%gray derby, cigar, and big two%tone button
shoes. &o the tailor,s dismay, a drunken ga$e had
settled upon Levine,s formerly dignified face. 'e
leaned toward 7ella, tickled her ear lobe with his
pinky, and whispered words that sent her into gates of
raucous laughter. "he fondled his knee.
+anischewit$, girding himself, pushed open the door
and was not well received.
1&his place reserved.1
17eat it, pale puss.1
15xit, Yankel, "emitic trash.1
'e gasped, but moved towards the table where
Levine sat, the crowd breaking before him as he
hobbled forward.
1+r. Levine,1 he spoke in a trembly voice. /2s here
+anischewit$.1
Levine glared through bleary eyes.
1"peak yo, piece, son.1
+anischewit$ shivered. 'is back plagued him.
(old tremors tormented his crooked legs.
1You,ll excuse me. 2 would like to talk to you in a
private place.1 'e looked around, but people were
everywhere and all of them listening.
1"peak, -h is a private pu,son.1
7ella laughed piercingly. /"top it, boy, you killin,
me.1
+anischewit$, no end disturbed, considered
leaving, but Levine addressed him4
1.hat is the pu,pose of yo, communication with
yo,s truly01
&he tailor wet his cracked lips. /You are a ew.
&his 2 am sure.1
Levine rose, his nostrils flaring.
1-nythin, else yo, got to say01
+anischewit$,s tongue was in torment.
1"peak now, or fo,ever hold yo, peace.1
&ears blinded the tailor,s eyes. .as ever man so
tried0 "hould he say he believed a half%drunken Negro
to be an angel0
&he silence turned to stone.
+anischewit$ was recalling scenes of his youth, as
a wheel in his mind whirred4 believe, do not, yes, no,
yes, no. &he pointer pointed to yes, to between yes and
no, to no, no it was yes. 'e sighed. 6ne had still to
make a choice.
12 believe you are also an angelGfrom 9od.1 'e
said it simply but in a broken voice. Yet he thought, 2f
you said it it was said. 2f you believed it you must say
it. 2f you believed, you believed.
&he hush broke. 5verybody talked but the music
commenced and they went on dancing. 7ella, grown
bored, picked up the cards and dealt herself a hand.
Levine burst into tears.
1'ow you have humiliated me.1
+anischewit$ sincerely apologi$ed.
155
1.ait,ll 2 freshen up.1 Levine went to the men,s
room and returned in his old clothes.
No one said goodbye as they left.
&hey rode to the flat via subway. -s they walked up
the stairs +anischewit$ pointed with his cane to his
door.
1&hat,s all been taken care of,1 Levine said. /You
best go in now.1
3isappointed that it was all over, yet torn by
curiosity, +anischewit$ followed the angel up four
flights of stairs to the roof. .hen he got there the door
was padlocked.
Luckily he could see through a small broken
window. 'e heard a strange noise, as though a
vibration of wings, and when he strained for a wider
view, could have sworn he saw a dark figure borne
aloft on strong%pinioned, magnificent black wings. -
feather drifted down. +anischewit$ gasped as it
turned white, but it was only snowing. 'e rushed
downstairs. 2n the flat, Leah wielded a dust mop under
the bed and upon the cobwebs on the wall.
1- wonderful thing, Leyka,1 +anischewit$ said.
/&here are ews everywhere.1
What has made the <ewish writers cons&icuous in
"merican literature is their sensitivity to the value of
man . . . Personally, 7 handle the <ew as a sym*ol of
the tragic e;&erience of man e;istentially. 7 try to see
the <ew as a universal man. Everyman is a <ew
though he may not now it. The <ewish drama is a . . .
sym*ol of the fight for e;istence in the highest
&ossi*le human terms. <ewish history is 2od!s gift of
drama.
7ernard +alamud, as !uoted in The #tory
and 7ts Writer,-nn (harters, ed., I7oston,
=>>=J4 @F>
=J 'ow does +alamud use irony as a way of /universali$ing1
the main character,s experience0
HJ 'ow does the story,s big city setting accentuate the
author,s exploration of the themes of human suffering
and redemption0
KJ .hat message might +alamud be seeking to convey by
his *uxtaposition of images of /depravity,1 holiness, and
humor0
CJ 'ow does the author play with the theme of ewish
/identity10
?J 3oes the story suggest the presence of any sense of
community, ewish or otherwise, within the stark urban
environment in which +anischewit$, the main character,
resides0
156
*
Tim 12Brien
&im 6,7rien is from small town +innesota. 'e was
born in -ustin on 6ctober =, =>CE, a birth date he
shares with several of his characters, and grew up in
.orthington , /&urkey (apital of the .orld.1
'e matriculated at +acalester (ollege. 9raduation in
=>E@ found him with a 7- in political science and a
draft notice.
6,7rien was against the war, but reported for service
and was sent to <ietnam with what has been called the
/unlucky1 -merical division due to its involvement in
the +y Lai massacre in =>E@, an event which figures
prominently in 2n the Lake of the .oods.. 'e was
assigned to Krd #latoon, - (o., ?th 7att. CEth 2nf., as
an infantry foot soldier. 6,7rien,s tour of duty was
=>E>%FD.
-fter <ietnam he became a graduate student at
'arvard. No doubt he was one of very few <ietnam
veterans there at that time, much less (ombat 2nfantry
7adge I(27J holders. 'aving the opportunity to do an
internship at the .ashington #ost, he eventually left
'arvard to become a newspaper reporter. 6,7rien,s
career as a reporter gave way to his fiction writing
after publication of his memoir 2f 2 3ie in a (ombat
Pone, 7ox +e Up and "end +e 'ome.
&im 6,7rien is now a visiting professor and endowed
chair at "outhwest &exas "tate University where he
teaches in the (reative .riting #rogram.
&im 6,7rien is fre!uently cited by writers and readers
alike as the finest novelist of his generation. 'e is
almost uniformly regarded as the preeminent voice to
chronicle the -merican <ietnam experience. .inner
of the National 7ook -ward in =>F> for his novel
2oing "fter -acciato, 6,7rien may be best known for
his book The Things They -arried, so legendary a
literary accomplishment that not only was it a finalist
for the #ulit$er and the National 7ook awards, a
winner of the #aris #ri$e and the 'eartland #ri$e, it is
a book that critics and scholars seldom know how to
label, varyingly calling it a novel, a short story
collection, or a meta%fiction. 6,7rien has continued to
craft books stunning in their diverse approaches and
successful in their ability to capture the -merican
experience, allowing his work to boast regular
appearances on national and international best seller
lists. 'is most recent novel is <uly, <uly.
6,7rien,s writing has appeared in The New Yorker"
Ploughshares" +ar'ers" The Atlanti#" and has
$een included in se'eral editions o! Best
Ameri#an *hort *tories and ,& +enr Prize
*tories9 He has $een a#arded !ello#shis
!rom the Guggenheim Foundation and the
1ational Foundation !or the /rts9 He
currently teaches at South#est Te%as State
5ni'ersity in San Marcos8 Te%as9
Fiction4
<uly, <uly IHDDHJ
Tomcat in $ove I=>>@J
7n the $ae of the Woods I=>>CJ
The Things They -arried I=>>DJ
Auclear "ge I=>@?J
2oing "fter -acciato I=>F@J
Aorthern $ights I=>F?J
Nonfiction4
7f 7 3ie in a -om*at Pone I=>FKJ
/-s a story teller and as a person who trusts story, 2
think a good story addresses not *ust the head, but the
whole human body4 the tear ducts, the scalp, the back
of your neck and spine, even the stomach.1
Tim B!Brien #hares Writings and E;&eriences at
3avidson by 7ill 9idu$, HDD=
/.ell, 2 had a desire to write from the time 2 was a
little kid and then something collided with that desire
Gnamely <ietnamGand 2 had to write about it. 2t
moved from desire to imperative. 2 couldn,t not write.1
/ &he T.hat 2f, 9ame1 in "tlantic, HDDH

157
/&he way 2 look at it is that anything is fair game. 2
mean, if you,re an artist you can,t not write about a
sub*ect for fear of exploiting it. &here,s a danger, 2
suppose, of exploitation, but you,ve got to take the risk
and say 2,m going to write a book that means
something to me and might mean something to other
people.1
6,7rien, where art thou0 by 'illary "chroeder for the
"tanford 3aily (ardinal, HDDH
/&hat,s how 2 spend my days for four years in a row.
2,m *ust sitting here in my underwear trying to write a
book.1
B!Brien Reveals "ll for 8obert 7irnbaum Y
7dentityTheory, HDDH
The Things They Carried
First Lieutenant immy (ross carried letters from
a girl named +artha, a *unior at +ount "ebastian
(ollege in New ersey. &hey were not love letters, but
Lieutenant (ross was hoping, so he kept them folded
in plastic at the bottom of his rucksack. 2n the late
afternoon, after a day,s march, he would dig his
foxhole, wash his hands under a canteen, unwrap the
letters, hold them with the tips of his fingers, and
spend the last hour of fight pretending. 'e would
imagine romantic camping trips into the .hite
+ountains in New 'ampshire. 'e would sometimes
taste the envelope flaps, knowing her tongue had been
there. +ore than anything, he wanted +artha to love
him as he loved her, but the letters were mostly chatty,
elusive on the matter of love. "he was a virgin, he was
almost sure. "he was an 5nglish ma*or at +ount
"ebastian, and she wrote beautifully about her
professors and roommates and midterm exams, about
her respect for (haucer and her great affection for
<irginia .oolf. "he often !uoted lines of poetry; she
never mentioned the war, except to say, immy, take
care of yourself. &he letters weighed ten ounces. &hey
were signed /Love, +artha,1 but Lieutenant (ross
understood that Love was only a way of signing and
did not mean what he sometimes pretended it meant.
-t dusk, he would carefully return the letters to his
rucksack. "lowly, a bit distracted, he would get up and
move among his men, checking the perimeter, then at
full dark he would return to his hole and watch the
night and wonder if +artha was a virgin.
&he things they carried were largely determined
by necessity. -mong the necessities or near%necessities
were #%K@ can openers, pocket knives, heat tabs, wrist
watches, dog tags, mos!uito repellent, chewing gum,
candy, cigarettes, salt tablets, packets of :ool%-id,
lighters, matches, sewing kits, +ilitary payment
(ertificates, ( rations, and two or three canteens of
water. &ogether, these items weighed between fifteen
and twenty pounds, depending upon a man,s habits or
rate of metabolism. 'enry 3obbins, who was a big
man, carried extra rations; he was especially fond of
canned peaches in heavy syrup over pound cake. 3ave
ensen, who practiced field hygiene, carried a
toothbrush, dental floss, and several hotel%si$e bars of
soap he,d stolen on 8Y8 in "ydney, -ustralia. &ed
Lavender, who was scared, carried tran!uili$ers until
he was shot in the head outside the village of &han :he
in mid%-pril. 7y necessity, and because it was "6#,
they all carried steel helmets that weighed five pounds
including the liner aid camouflage cover. &hey carried
the standard fatigue *ackets and trousers. <ery few
carried underwear. 6n their feet they carried *ungle
boots%H.= poundsGand 3ave ensen carried three
pairs of socks and a can of 3r. "choll,s foot powder as
a precaution against trench foot. Until he was shot,
&ed Lavender carried six or seven ounces of premium
dope, which for him was H necessity. +itchell "anders,
the 8&D, carried condoms. Norman 7owker carried a
diary. 8at :iley carried comic books. :iowa, a devout
7aptist, (arried an illustrated New &estament that had
been presented to him by his father, who taught
"unday school in 6klahoma (ity, 6klahoma. -s a
hedge against bad times, however, :iowa also carried
his grandmother,s distrust of the white man, his
grandfather,s old hunting hatchet. Necessity dictated.
7ecause the land was mined and booby%trapped, it was
"6# for each man to carry a steel%centered, nylon%
covered flak *acket, which weighed E.F pounds, but
which on hot days seemed much heavier. 7ecause you
could die so !uickly, each man carried at least one
large compress bandage, usually in the helmet band
for easy access. 7ecause the nights were cold, and
15*
because the monsoons were wet, each carried a green
plastic poncho that could be used as a raincoat or
groundsheet or makeshift tent. .ith its !uilted liner,
the poncho weighed almost two pounds, but it was
worth every ounce. 2n -pril, for instance, when &ed
Lavender was shot, they used his poncho to wrap him
up, then to carry him across the paddy, then to lift him
into the chopper that took him away.
&hey were called legs or grunts.
&o carry something was to /hump1 it, as when
Lieutenant immy (ross humped his love for +artha
up the hills and through the swamps. 2n its intransitive
form, /to hump,1 meant /to walk,1 or /to march,1 but it
implied burdens far beyond the intransitive.
-lmost everyone humped photographs. 2n his
wallet, Lieutenant (ross carried two photographs of
+artha. &he first was a :odachrome snapshot signed
/Love,1 though he knew better. "he stood against a
brick wall. 'er eyes were gray and neutral, her lips
slightly open as she stared straight%on at the camera.
-t night, sometimes, Lieutenant (ross wondered who
had taken the picture, because he knew she had
boyfriends, because he loved her so much, and because
he could see the shadow of the picture taker spreading
out against the brick wall. &he second photograph had
been clipped from the =>E@ +ount "ebastian
yearbook. 2t was an action shotGwomen,s volleyballG
and +artha was bent hori$ontal to the floor, reaching,
the palms of her hands in sharp focus, the tongue taut,
the expression frank and competitive. &here was no
visible sweat. "he wore white gym shorts. 'er legs, he
thought, were almost certainly the legs of a virgin, dry
and without hair, the left knee cocked and carrying her
entire weight, which was *ust over one hundred
pounds. Lieutenant (ross remembered touching that
left knee. - dark theater, he remembered, and the
movie was Bonnie and -lyde, and +artha wore a
tweed skirt, and during the final scene, when he
touched her knee, she turned and looked at him in a
sad, sober way that made him pull his hand back, but
he would always remember the feel of the tweed skirt
and the knee beneath it and the sound of the gunfire
that killed 7onnie and (lyde, how embarrassing it was,
how slow and oppressive. 'e remembered kissing her
goodnight at the dorm door. 8ight then, he thought,
he should,ve done something brave. 'e should,ve
carried her up the stairs to her room and tied her to
the bed and touched that left knee all night long. 'e
should,ve risked it. .henever he looked at the
photographs, he thought of new things he should,ve
done.
.hat they carried was partly a function of rank,
partly of field specialty.
-s a first lieutenant and platoon leader, immy
(ross carried a compass, maps, code books,
binoculars, and a .C?%caliber pistol that weighed H.>
pounds fully loaded. 'e carried a strobe fight and the
responsibility for the lives of his men.
-s an 8&6, +itchell "anders carried the #8(%H?
radio, a killer, twenty%six pounds with its battery.
-s a medic, 8at :iley carried a canvas satchel
filled with morphine and plasma and malaria tablets
and surgical tape and comic books and all the things a
medic must carry, including +Y+,s for especially bad
wounds, for a total weight of nearly twenty pounds.
-s a big man, therefore a machine gunner, 'enry
3obbins carried the +%ED, which weighed twenty%
three pounds unloaded, but which was almost always
loaded. 2n addition, 3obbins carried between ten and
fifteen pounds of ammunition draped in belts across
his chest and shoulders.
-s #F(s or "pec Cs, most of them were common
grunts and carried the standard +%=E gas%operated
assault rifle. &he weapon weighed F? pounds
unloaded, @.H pounds with its full twenty%round
maga$ine. 3epending on numerous factors, such as
topography and psychology, the riflemen carried
anywhere from twelve to twenty maga$ines, usually in
cloth bandoliers, adding on another @.C pounds at
minimum, fourteen pounds at maximum. .hen it was
available, they also carried +%=E maintenance gearG
rods and steel brushes and swabs and tubes of L"- oil
Gall of which weighed about H pound. -mong the
grunts, some carried the +%F> grenade launcher, ?.>
pounds unloaded, a reasonably fight weapon except
for the ammunition, which was heavy. - single round
weighed ten ounces. &he typical load was twenty%five
rounds. 7ut &ed Lavender, who was scared, carried
thirty%four rounds when he was shot and killed outside
&han :he, and he went down under an exceptional
burden, more than twenty pounds of ammunition,
plus the flak *acket and helmet and rations and water
and toilet paper and tran!uili$ers and all the rest, plus
the unweighed fear. 'e was dead weight. &here was no
twitching or flopping. :iowa, who saw it happen, said
it was like watching a rock fall, or a big sandbag or
somethingG*ust boom, then downGnot like the
movies where the dead guy rolls around and does
fancy spins and goes ass over teakettleGnot like that,
:iowa said, the poor bastard *ust flat%fuck fell. 7oom.
3own. Nothing else. 2t was a bright morning in mid%
-pril. Lieutenant (ross felt the pain. 'e blamed
himself. &hey stripped off Lavender,s canteens and
ammo, all the heavy things, and 8at :iley said the
obvious, the guy,s dead, and +itchell "anders used his
radio to report one U.". :2- and to re!uest a chopper.
&hen they wrapped Lavender in his poncho. &hey
carried him out to a dry paddy, established security,
and sat smoking the dead man,s dope until the
chopper came. Lieutenant (ross kept to himself. 'e
pictured +artha,s smooth young face, thinking he
loved her more than anything, more than his men, and
now &ed Lavender was dead because he loved her so
much and could not stop thinking about her. .hen the
dust%off arrived, they carried Lavender aboard.
-fterward they burned &han :he. &hey marched until
dusk, then dug their holes, and that night :iowa kept
explaining how you had to be them how fast it was,
how the poor guy *ust dropped like so much concrete,
7oom%down, he said. Like cement.
15+
2n addition to the three standard weapons%the +%
ED, +%=E, and +%F>%they carried whatever presented
itself, or whatever seemed appropriate as a means of
killing or staying alive. &hey carried catch%as%catch
can. -t various times, in various situations, they
carried +%=C,s and (-8%=?,s and "wedish :,s and
grease guns and captured -:%CFs and (hi(om,s and
8#9,s and "imonov carbines and black%market U$i,s
and .K@%caliber "mith Y .esson handguns and EE mm
L-.,s and shotguns and silencers and black*acks and
bayonets and (%C plastic explosives. Lee "trunk
carried a slingshot; a weapon of last resort, he called it.
+itchell "anders carried brass knuckles. :iowa carried
his grandfather,s feathered hatchet. 5very third or
fourth man carried a (laymore antipersonnel mine%K.?
pounds with its firing device. &hey all carried
fragmentation grenades%fourteen ounces each. &hey
all carried at least one +%=@ colored smoke grenadeG
twenty%four ounces. "ome carried (" or tear%gas
grenades. "onic carried white%phosphorus grenades.
&hey carried all they could bear, and then some,
including a silent awe for the terrible power of the
things they carried.
2n the first week of -pril, before Lavender died,
Lieutenant immy (ross received a good%luck charm
from +artha. 2t was a simple pebble. -n ounce at
most. "mooth to the touch, it was a milky%white color
with flecks of orange and violet, oval%shaped, like a
miniature egg. 2n the accompanying letter, +artha
wrote that she had found the pebble on the ersey
shoreline, precisely where the land touched water at
high tide, where things came together but also
separated. 2t was this separate%but%together !uality,
she wrote, that had inspired her to pick up the pebble
and to carry it in her breast pocket for several days,
where it seemed weightless, and then to send it
through the mail, by air, as a token of her truest
feelings for him. Lieutenant (ross found this romantic.
7ut he wondered what Ther truest feelings, were,
exactly, and what she meant by separate%but%together.
'e wondered how the tides and waves had come into
play on that afternoon along the ersey shoreline when
+artha saw the pebble and, bent down to rescue it
from geology. 'e imagined bare feet. +artha was a
poet, with the poet,s sensibilities, and her feet would
be brown and bare the toenails unpainted, the eyes
chilly and somber like the ocean in +arch, and though
it was painful, he wondered who had been with her
that afternoon. 'e imagined a pair of shadows moving
along the strip of sand where things came together but
also separated. 2t was phantom *ealousy, he knew, but
he couldn,t help himself. 'e loved her so much. 6n the
march, through the hot days of early -pril, he carried
the pebble in his mouth, turning it with his tongue,
tasting sea salts and moisture. 'is mind wandered. 'e
had difficulty keeping his attention on the war. 6n
occasion he would yell at his men to spread out the
column, to keep their eyes open, but then he would
slip away into daydreams, *ust pretending, walking
barefoot along the ersey shore, with +artha, carrying
nothing. 'e would feel himself rising. "un and waves
and gentle winds, all love and lightness.
.hat they carried varied by mission.
.hen a mission took them to the mountains,
they carried mos!uito netting, machetes, canvas tarps,
and extra bug*uice.
2f a mission seemed especially ha$ardous, or if it
involved a place they knew to be bad, they carried
everything they could. 2n certain heavily mined -6,s,
where the land was dense with &oe #oppers and
7ouncing 7etties, they took turns humping a twenty%
eight%pound mine detector. .ith its headphones and
big sensing plate, the e!uipment was a stress on the
lower back and shoulders, awkward to handle, often
useless because of the shrapnel in the earth, but they
carried it anyway, partly for safety, partly for the
illusion of safety.
6n ambush, or other night missions, they carried
peculiar little odds and ends. :iowa always took along
his New &estament and a pair of moccasins for silence.
3ave ensen carried night%sight vitamins high in
carotene. Lee "trunk carried his slingshot; ammo, he
claimed, would never be a problem. 8at :iley carried
brandy and +Y+,s. Until he was shot, &ed Lavender
carried the starlight scope, which weighed EK pounds
with its aluminum carrying case. 'enry 3obbins
carried his girlfriend,s panty hose wrapped around his
neck as a comforter. &hey all carried ghosts. .hen
dark came, they would move out single file across the
meadows and paddies to their ambush coordinates,
where they would !uietly set up the (laymores and lie
down and spend the night waiting.
6ther missions were more complicated and
re!uired special e!uipment. 2n mid%-pril, it was their
mission to search out and destroy the elaborate tunnel
complexes in the &han :he area south of (hu Lai. &o
blow the tunnels, they carried one%pound blocks of
pentrite high explosives; four blocks to a man, sixty%
eight pounds in all. &hey carried wiring, detonators,
and battery%powered clackers. 3ave ensen carried
earplugs. +ost often, before blowing the tunnels, they
were ordered by higher command to search them,
which was considered bad news, but by and large they
*ust shrugged and carried out orders. 7ecause he was a
big man, 'enry 3obbins was excused from tunnel
duty. &he others would draw numbers. 7efore
Lavender died there were seventeen men in the
platoon, and whoever drew the number seventeen
would strip off his gear and crawl in headfirst with a
flashlight and Lieutenant (ross,s .C?%caliber pistol.
&he rest of them would fan out as security. &hey would
sit down or kneel, not facing the hole, listening to the
ground beneath them, imagining cobwebs and ghosts,
whatever was down there%the tunnel walls s!uee$ing
in%how the flashlight seemed impossibly heavy in the
hand and how it was tunnel vision in the very strictest
sense, compression in all ways, even time, and how
you had to wiggle in%ass and elbows%a swallowed%up
feeling%and how you found yourself worrying about
odd thingsGwill your flashlight go dead0 3o rats carry
16,
rabies0 2f you screamed, how far would the sound
carry0 .ould your buddies hear it0 .ould they have
the courage to drag you out0 2n some respects, though
not many, the waiting was worse than the tunnel itself.
2magination was a killer.
6n -pril =E, when Lee "trunk drew the number
seventeen, he laughed and muttered something and
went down !uickly. &he morning was hot and very
still. Not good, :iowa said. 'e looked at the tunnel
opening, then out across a dry paddy toward the
village of &han :he. Nothing moved. No clouds or
birds or people. -s they waited, the men smoked and
drank :ool%-id, not talking much, feeling sympathy
for Lee "trunk but also feeling the luck of the draw,
You win some, you lose some, said +itchell "anders,
and sometimes you settle for a rain check. 2t was a
tired line and no one laughed.
'enry 3obbins ate a tropical chocolate bar. &ed
Lavender popped a tran!uili$er and went off to pee.
-fter five minutes, Lieutenant immy (ross moved to
the tunnel, leaned down, and examined the darkness.
&rouble, he thoughtGa cave%in maybe. -nd then
suddenly, without willing it, he was thinking about
+artha. &he stresses and fractures, the !uick collapse,
the two of them buried alive under all that weight.
3ense, crushing love. :neeling, watching the hole, he
tried to concentrate on Lee "trunk and the war, all the
dangers, but his love was too much for him, he felt
paraly$ed, he wanted to sleep inside her lungs and
breathe her blood and be smothered. 'e wanted her to
be a virgin and not a virgin, all at once. 'e wanted to
know her. 2ntimate secrets4 why poetry0 .hy so sad0
.hy that grayness in her eyes0 .hy so alone0 Not
lonely, *ust aloneGriding her bike across campus or
sitting off by herself in the cafeteria. 5ven dancing, she
danced aloneGand it was the aloneness that filled him
with love. 'e remembered telling her that one
evening. 'ow she nodded and looked away. -nd how,
later, when he kissed her. "he received the kiss
without returning it, her eyes wide open, not afraid,
not a virgin,s eyes, *ust flat and uninvolved.
Lieutenant (ross ga$ed at the tunnel. 7ut he was
not there. 'e was buried with +artha under the white
sand at the ersey shore. &hey were pressed together,
and the pebble in his mouth was her tongue. 'e was
smiling. <aguely, he was aware of how !uiet the day
was; the sullen paddies, yet he could not bring himself
to worry about matters of security. 'e was beyond
that. 'e was *ust a kid at war, in love. 'e was twenty
two years old. 'e couldn,t help it.
- few moments later Lee "trunk crawled out of
the tunnel. 'e came up grinning, filthy but alive.
Lieutenant (ross nodded and closed his eyes while the
others clapped "trunk on the back and made *okes
about rising from the dead.
.orms, 8at :iley said. 8ight out of the grave.
Fuckin, $ombie.
&he men laughed. &hey all felt great relief.
"pook (ity, said +itchell "anders.
Lee "trunk made a funny ghost sound, a kind of
moaning, yet very happy, and fight then, when "trunk
made that high happy moaning sound, when he went
-hhooooo, right then &ed Lavender was shot in the
head on his way back from peeing. 'e lay with his
mouth open. &he teeth were broken. &here was a
swollen black bruise under his left eye. &he cheekbone
was gone. 6h shit, 8at :iley said, the guy,s dead. &he
guy,s dead, he kept saying, which seemed profoundG
the guy,s dead. 2 mean really.
&he things they carried were determined to some
extent by superstition. Lieutenant (ross carried his
good%luck pebble. 3ave ensen carried a rabbit,s foot.
Norman 7owker, other%wise a very gentle person,
carried a thumb that had been presented to him as a
gift by +itchell "anders. &he thumb was dark brown,
rubbery to the touch, and weighed four ounces at
most. 2t had been cut from a <( corpse, a boy of fifteen
or sixteen. &hey,d found him at the bottom of an
irrigation ditch, badly burned, flies in his mouth and
eyes. &he boy wore black shorts and sandals. -t the
time of his death he had been carrying a pouch of rice,
a rifle, and three maga$ines of ammunition.
You want my opinion, +itchell "anders said,
there,s a definite moral here.
'e put his hand oil the dead boy,s wrist. 'e was
!uiet for a time, as if counting a pulse, then he patted
the stomach, almost affectionately, and used :iowa,s
hunting hatchet to remove the thumb.
'enry 3obbins asked what the moral was.
+oral0
You know. Moral.
"anders wrapped the thumb in toilet paper and
handed it across to Norman 7owker. &here was no
blood. "miling, he kicked the boy,s head, watched the
files scatter, and said, 2t,s like with that old &< showG
#aladin. 'ave gun, will travel.
'enry 3obbins thought about it.
Yeah, well, he finally said. 2 don,t see no moral.
&here it is, man.
Fuck off.
&hey carried U"6 stationery and pencils and
pens. &hey carried "terno, safety pins, trip flares,
signal flares, spools of wire, ra$or blades, chewing
tobacco, liberated *oss sticks and statuettes of the
sniffing 7uddha, candles, grease pencils, &he "tars and
"tripes, fingernail clippers, #sy 6ps leaflets, bush hats,
bolos, and much more. &wice a week, when the
resupply choppers came in, they carried hot chow in
green +ermite cans and large canvas bags filled with
iced beer and soda pop. &hey carried plastic water
containers, each with a two gallon capacity. +itchell
"anders carried a set of starched tiger fatigues for
special occasions. 'enry 3obbins carried 7lack Flag
insecticide. 3ave ensen carried empty sandbags that
could be filled at night for added protection. Lee
"trunk carried tanning lotion. "ome things they
carried in common. &aking turns, they carried the big
#8(%FF scrambler radio, which weighed thirty pounds
with its battery. &hey shared the weight of memory.
&hey took up what others could no longer bear, 6ften,
they carried each other, the wounded or weak. &hey
carried infections. &hey carried chess sets, basketballs,
161
<ietnamese 5nglish dictionaries, insignia of rank,
7ron$e "tars and #urple 'earts, plastic cards
imprinted with the (ode of (onduct. &hey carried
diseases, among them malaria and dysentery. &hey
carried lice and ringworm and leeches and paddy algae
and various rots and molds. &hey carried the land
itselfG<ietnam, the place, the sodGa powdery orange%
red dust that covered their boots and fatigues and
faces. &hey carried the sky. &he whole atmosphere,
they carried it, the humidity, the monsoons, the stink
of fungus and decay, all of it, they carried gravity. &hey
moved like mules. 7y daylight they took sniper fire, at
night they were mortared, but it was not battle, it was
*ust the endless march, village to village, without
purpose, nothing won or lost. &hey marched for the
sake of the march. &hey plodded along slowly, dumbly,
leaning forward against the heat, unthinking, all blood
and bone, simple grunts, soldiering with their legs,
toiling up the hills and down into the paddies and
across the rivers and up again and down, *ust
humping, one step and then the next and then
another, but no volition, no will, because it was
automatic, it was anatomy, and the war was entirely a
matter of posture and carriage, the hump was
everything, a kind of inertia, a kind of emptiness, a
dullness of desire and intellect and conscience and
hope and human sensibility. &heir principles were in
their feet. &heir calculations were biological. &hey had
no sense of strategy or mission. &hey searched the
villages without knowing what to look for, nor caring,
kicking over *ars of rice, frisking children and old men,
blowing tunnels, sometimes setting fires and
sometimes not, then forming up and moving on to the
next village, then other villages, where it would always
be the same. &hey carried their own lives. &he
pressures were enormous. 2n the heat of early
afternoon, they would remove their helmets and flak
*ackets, walking bare, which was dangerous but which
helped ease the strain. &hey would often discard
things along the route of march. #urely for comfort,
they would throw away rations, blow their (laymores
and grenades, no matter, because by nightfall the
resupply choppers would arrive with more of the same,
then a day or two later still more, fresh watermelons
and crates of ammunition and sunglasses and woolen
sweatersGthe resources were stunningGsparklers for
the Fourth of uly, colored eggs for 5asterGit was the
great -merican war chestGthe fruits of sciences, the
smokestacks, the canneries, the arsenals at 'artford,
the +innesota forests, the machine shops, the vast
fields of corn and wheat they carried like freight trains;
they carried it on their backs and shouldersGand for
all the ambiguities of <ietnam, all the mysteries and
unknowns, there was at least the single abiding
certainty that they would never be at a loss for things
to carry.
-fter the chopper took Lavender away,
Lieutenant immy (ross led his men into the village of
&han :he. &hey burned everything. &hey shot
chickens and dogs, they trashed the village well, they
called in artillery and watched the wreckage, then they
marched for several hours through the hot afternoon,
and then at dusk, while :iowa explained how
Lavender died, Lieutenant (ross found himself
trembling.
'e tried not to cry. .ith his entrenching tool,
which weighed five pounds, he began digging a hole in
the earth.
'e felt shame. 'e hated himself 'e had loved
+artha more than his men, and as a conse!uence
Lavender was now dead, and this was something he
would have to carry like a stone in his stomach for the
rest of the war.
-ll he could do was dig. 'e used his entrenching
tool like an ax, slashing, feeling both love and hate,
and then later, when it was full dark, he sat at the
bottom of his foxhole and wept. 2t went on for a long
while. 2n part, he was grieving for &ed Lavender, but
mostly it was for +artha, and for himself, because she
belonged to another world, which was not !uite real,
and because she was a *unior at +ount "ebastian
(ollege in New ersey, a poet and a virgin and
uninvolved, and because he reali$ed she did not love
him and never would.
Like cement, :iowa whispered in the dark. 2
swear to 9odGboom%down. Not a word.
2,ve heard this, said Norman 7owker.
- pisser, you know0 "till $ipping himself up.
Papped while $ipping.
-ll right, fine. &hat,s enough.
Yeah, but you had to see it, the guy *ust
2 heard, man. (ement. "o why not shut the fuck
up0
:iowa shook his head sadly and glanced over at
the hole where Lieutenant immy (ross sat watching
the night. &he air was thick and wet. - warm, dense
fog had settled over the paddies and there was the
stillness that precedes rain.
-fter a time :iowa sighed.
6ne thing for sure, he said. &he lieutenant,s in
some deep hurt. 2 mean that crying *agGthe way he
was carrying onGit wasn,t fake or anything, it was real
heavy%duty hurt. &he man cares.
"ure, Norman 7owker said.
"ay what you want, the man does care.
.e all got problems.
Not Lavender.
No, 2 guess not, 7owker said. 3o me a favor,
though.
"hut up0
&hat,s a smart 2ndian. "hut up.
"hrugging, :iowa pulled off his boots. 'e wanted
to say more, *ust to lighten up his sleep, but instead he
opened his New &estament and arranged it beneath
his head as a pillow. &he fog made things seem hollow
and unattached. 'e tried not to think about &ed
Lavender, but then he was thinking how fast it was, no
drama, down and dead, and how it was hard to feet
anything except surprise. 2t seemed unchristian. 'e
wished he could find some great sadness, or even
anger, but the emotion wasn,t there and he couldn,t
make it happen. +ostly he felt pleased to be alive. 'e
162
liked the smell of the New &estament under his check,
the leather and ink and paper and glue, whatever the
chemicals were. 'e liked hearing the sounds of night.
5ven his fatigue, it felt fine, the stiff muscles and the
prickly awareness of his own body, a floating feeling.
'e en*oyed not being dead. Lying there, :iowa
admired Lieutenant immy (ross,s capacity for grief.
'e wanted to share the man,s pain, he wanted to care
as immy (ross cared. -nd yet when he closed his
eyes, all he could think was 7oom%down, and all he
could feel was the pleasure of having his boots off and
the fog curling in around him and the damp soil and
the 7ible smells and the plush comfort of night.
-fter a moment Norman 7owker sat up in the
dark.
.hat the hell, he said. You want to talk, tal. &ell
it to me.
Forget it.
No, man, go on. 6ne thing 2 hate, it,s a silent
2ndian.
For the most part they carried themselves with
poise, a kind of dignity. Now and then, however, there
were times of panic, when they s!uealed or wanted to
s!ueal but couldn,t. .hen they twitched and made
moaning sounds and covered their heads and said
3ear esus and flopped around on the earth and fired
their weapons blindly and cringed and sobbed and
begged for the noise to stop and went wild and made
stupid promises to themselves and to 9od and to their
mothers and fathers, hoping not to die. 2n different
ways, it happened to all of them. -fterward, when the
firing ended, they would blink and peek up. &hey
would touch their bodies, feeling shame, then !uickly
hiding it. &hey would force themselves to stand. -s if
in slow motion, frame by frame, the world would take
on the old logic%absolute silence, then the wind, then
sunlight, then voices. 2t was the burden of being alive.
-wkwardly, the men would reassemble themselves,
first in private, then in groups, becoming soldiers
again. &hey would repair the leaks in their eyes. &hey
would check for casualties, call in dust%offs, light
cigarettes, try to smile, clear their throats and spit and
begin cleaning their weapons. -fter a time someone
would shake his head and say, No lie, 2 almost shit my
pants, and someone else would laugh, which meant it
was bad, yes, but the guy had obviously not shit his
pants, it wasn,t that bad, and in any case nobody
would ever do such a thing and then go ahead and talk
about it. &hey would s!uint into the dense, oppressive
sunlight. For a few moments, perhaps, they would fall
silent, lighting a *oint and tracking its passage from
man to man, inhaling, holding in the humiliation.
"cary stuff, one of them might say. 7ut then someone
else would grin or flick his eyebrows and say, 8oger%
dodger, almost cut me a new asshole, almost.
&here were numerous such poses. "ome carried
themselves with a sort of wistful resignation, others
with pride or stiff soldierly discipline or good humor
or macho $eal. &hey were afraid of dying but they were
even more afraid to show it.
&hey found *okes to tell.
&hey used a hard vocabulary to contain the
terrible softness. 2reased, they,d say. Bffed, lit u&,
+a&&ed while +i&&ing. 2t wasn,t cruelty, *ust stage
presence. &hey were actors and the war came at them
in K%3. .hen someone died, it wasn,t !uite dying,
because in a curious way it seemed scripted, and
because they had their fines mostly memori$ed, irony
mixed with tragedy, and because they called it by other
names, as if to encyst and destroy the reality of death
itself. &hey kicked corpses. &hey cut off thumbs. &hey
talked grunt lingo. &hey told stories about &ed
Lavender,s supply of tran!uili$ers, how the poor guy
didn,t feel a thing, how incredibly tran!uil he was.
&here,s a moral here, said +itchell "anders.
&hey were waiting for Lavender,s chopper,
smoking the dead man,s dope.
&he moral,s pretty obvious, "anders said, and
winked. "tay away from drugs. No *oke, they,ll ruin
your day every time.
(ute, said 'enry 3obbins.
+ind%blower, get it0 &alk about wiggy. Nothing
left, *ust blood and brains.
&hey made themselves laugh.
&here it is, they,d say, over and over, as if the
repetition itself were an act of poise, a balance
between cra$y and almost cra$y, knowing without
going. &here it is, which meant be cool, let it ride,
because oh yeah, man, you can,t change what can,t be
changed, there it is, there it absolutely and positively
and fucking well is.
&hey were tough.
&hey carried all the emotional baggage of men
who might die. 9rief, terror, love, longingGthese were
intangibles, but the intangibles had their own mass
and specific gravity, they had tangible weight. &hey
carried shameful memories. &hey carried the common
secret of cowardice barely restrained, the instinct to
run or free$e or hide, and in many respects this was
the heaviest burden of all, for it could never be put
down, it re!uired perfect balance and perfect posture.
&hey carried their reputations. &hey carried the
soldier,s greatest fear, which was the fear of blushing.
+en killed, and died, because they were embarrassed
not to. 2t was what had brought them to the war in the
first place, nothing positive, no dreams of glory or
honor, *ust to avoid the blush of dishonor. &hey died
so as not to die of embarrassment. &hey crawled into
tunnels and walked point and advanced under fire.
5ach morning, despite the unknowns, they made their
legs move. &hey endured. &hey kept humping. &hey
did not submit to the obvious alternative, which was
simply to close the eyes and fall. "o easy, really. 9o
limp and tumble to the ground and let the muscles
unwind and not speak and not budge until your
buddies picked you up and lifted you into the chopper
that would roar and dip its nose and carry you off to
the world. - mere matter of falling, yet no one ever
fell. 2t was not courage, exactly; the ob*ect was not
valor. 8ather, they were too frightened to be cowards.
7y and large they carried these things inside,
maintaining the masks of composure. &hey sneered at
sick call. &hey spoke bitterly about guys who had
163
found release by shooting off their own toes or fingers.
#ussies, they,d say. (andyasses. 2t was fierce, mocking
talk, with only a trace of envy or awe, but even so, the
image played itself out behind their eyes.
&hey imagined the mu$$le against flesh. &hey
imagined the !uick, sweet pain, then the evacuation to
apan, then a hospital with warm beds and cute geisha
nurses.
&hey dreamed of freedom birds.
-t night, on guard, staring into the dark, they
were carried away by *umbo *ets. &hey felt the rush of
takeoff 2one5 they yelled. -nd then velocity, wings and
engines, a smiling stewardess%but it was more than a
plane, it was a real bird, a big sleek silver bird with
feathers and talons and high screeching. &hey were
flying. &he weights fell off; there was nothing to bear.
&hey laughed and held on tight, feeling the cold slap of
wind and altitude, soaring, thinking 7t!s over, 7!m
gone5Gthey were naked. &hey were light and freeGit
was all lightness, bright and fast and buoyant, light as
light, a helium bu$$ in the brain, a giddy bubbling in
the lungs as they were taken up over the (louds and
the war, beyond duty, beyond gravity and
mortification anti global entanglementsG#in loi5 &hey
yelled, 7!m sorry, motherfucers, *ut 7!m out of it, 7!m
goofed, 7!m on a s&ace cruise, 7!m gone5.and it was a
restful, disencumbered sensation, *ust riding the fight
waves, sailing; that big silver freedom bird over the
mountains and oceans, over -merica, over the farms
and great sleeping cities and cemeteries and highways
and the 9olden -rches of +c3onald,s. 2t was flight, a
kind of fleeing, a kind of falling, falling higher and
higher, spinning off the edge of the earth and beyond
the sun and through the vast, silent vacuum where
there were no burdens and where everything weighed
exactly nothing. 2one5 they screamed, 7!m sorry *ut
7!m gone5 -nd so at night, not !uite dreaming, they
gave themselves over to lightness, they were carried,
they were purely borne.
6n the morning after &ed Lavender died, First
Lieutenant immy (ross crouched at the bottom of his
foxhole and burned +artha,s letters. &hen he burned
the two photographs. &here was a steady rain falling,
which made it difficult, but he used heat tabs and
"terno to build a small fire, screening it with his body,
holding the photographs over the tight blue flame with
the tips of his fingers.
'e reali$ed it was only a gesture. "tupid, he
thought. "entimental, too, but mostly *ust stupid.
Lavender was dead. You couldn,t burn the blame.
7esides, the letters were in his head. -nd even
now, without photographs, Lieutenant (ross could see
+artha playing volleyball in her white gym shorts and
yellow &%shirt. 'e could see her moving in the rain.
.hen the fire died out, Lieutenant (ross pulled
his poncho over his shoulders and ate breakfast from a
can.
&here was no great mystery, he decided.
2n those burned letters +artha had never
mentioned the war, except to say, immy take care of
yourself. "he wasn,t involved. "he signed the letters
/Love,1 but it wasn,t love, and all the fine lines and
technicalities did not matter.
&he morning came up wet and blurry. 5verything
seemed part of everything else, the fog and +artha
and the deepening rain.
2t was a war, after all.
'alf smiling, Lieutenant immy (ross took out
his maps. 'e shook his head hard, as if to clear it, then
bent forward and began planning the day,s march. 2n
ten minutes, or maybe twenty, he would rouse the men
and they would pack up and head west, where the
maps showed the country to be green and inviting.
&hey would do what they had always done. &he rain
might add some weight, but otherwise it would be one
more day layered upon all the other days.
'e was realistic about it. &here was that new
hardness in his stomach.
No more fantasies, he told himself.
'enceforth, when lie thought about +artha, it
would be only to think that she belonged elsewhere.
'e would shut down the daydreams. &his was not
+ount "ebastian, it was another world, where there
were no pretty poems or midterm exams, a place
where men died because of carelessness and gross
stupidity. :iowa was right. 7oom%down, and you were
dead, never partly dead.
7riefly, in the rain, Lieutenant (ross saw
+artha,s gray eyes ga$ing back at him.
'e understood.
2t was very sad, he thought. &he things men
carried inside. &he things men did or felt they had to
do.
'e almost nodded at her, but didn,t.
2nstead he went back to his maps. 'e was now
determined to perform his duties firmly and without
negligence. 2t wouldn,t help Lavender, he knew that,
but from this point on he would comport himself as a
soldier. 'e would dispose of his good%luck pebble.
"wallow it, maybe, or use Lee "trunk,s slingshot, or
*ust drop it along the trail. 6n the march he would
impose strict field discipline. 'e would be careful to
send out flank security, to prevent straggling or
bunching up, to keep his troops moving at the proper
pace and at the proper interval. 'e would insist on
clean weapons. 'e would confiscate the remainder of
Lavender,s dope. Later in the day, perhaps, he would
call the men together and speak to them plainly. 'e
would accept the blame for what had happened to &ed
Lavender. 'e would be a man about it. 'e would look
them in the eyes, keeping his chin level, and he would
issue the new "6#s in a calm, impersonal tone of
voice, an officer,s voice, leaving no room for argument
or discussion. (ommencing immediately, he,d tell
them, they would no longer abandon e!uipment along
the route of march. &hey would police up their acts.
&hey would get their shit together, and keep it
together, and maintain it neatly and in good working
order.
'e would not tolerate laxity. 'e would show
strength, distancing himself.
-mong the men there would be grumbling, of
course, and maybe worse, because their days would
164
seem longer and their loads heavier, but Lieutenant
(ross reminded himself that his obligation was not to
be loved but to lead. 'e would dispense with love; it
was not now a factor. -nd if anyone !uarreled or
complained, he would simply tighten his lips and
arrange his shoulders in the correct command posture.
'e might give a curt little nod. 6r he might not. 'e
might *ust shrug and say (arry on, then they would
saddle up and form into a column and move out
toward the villages west of &han :he. I=>@EJ
8Y8 rest and rehabilitation leave; "6# standard
operating procedure; 8&6 radio and telephone
operator; +Y+ *oking term for medical supplies; :2-
killed in action; -6s areas of operation; "in loi "orry
Ho# to Tell a True 6ar Story
from The Things The Carried
2n a true war story, if there,s a moral at all, it,s like the
thread that makes the cloth. You can,t tease it out. You
can,t extract the meaning without unraveling the
deeper meaning. -nd in the end, really, there,s
nothing much to say about a true war story, except
maybe /6h.1 &rue war stories do not generali$e. &hey
do not indulge in abstraction or analysis.
For example4 .ar is hell. -s a moral declaration the
old truism seems perfectly true, and yet because it
abstracts, because it generali$es, 2 can,t believe it with
my stomach. Nothing turns inside.
2t comes down to gut instinct. - true war story, if truly
told, makes the stomach believe.

&his one does it for me. 2,ve told it before % many
times, many versions % but here,s what actually
happened.
.e crossed that river and marched west into the
mountains. 6n the third day, my friend (urt Lemon
stepped on a boobytrapped artillery round. 'e was
playing catch with 8at :iley, laughing, and then he
was dead. &he trees were thick; it took nearly an hour
to cut an LP for the dustoff.
Later, higher in the mountains, we came across a baby
<( water buffalo. .hat it was doing there 2 don,t know
% no farms, no paddies % but we chased it down and,
got a rope around it and led it along to a deserted
village where we set up for the night. -fter supper 8at
:iley went over and stroked its nose.
'e opened up a can of ( rations, pork and beans, but
the baby buffalo wasn,t interested.
8at shrugged.
'e stepped back and shot it through the right front
knee.
&he animal did not make a sound. 2t went down hard,
then got up again, and 8at took careful aim and shot
off an ear. 'e shot it in the hind!uarters and in the
little hump at its back. 'e shot it twice in the flanks. 2t
wasn,t to kill; it was to hurt. 'e put the rifle mu$$le up
against the mouth and shot the mouth away. Nobody
said much. &he whole platoon stood there watching,
feeling all kinds of things, but there wasn,t a great deal
of pity for the baby water buffalo. (urt Lemon was
dead. 8at :iley had lost his best friend in the world.
Later in the week 8at would write a long personal
letter to the guy,s sister, who would not write back, but
for now, it was simply a !uestion of pain. 'e shot off
the tail. 'e shot away %chunks of meat below the ribs.
-ll around us there was the smell of smoke and filth
and greenery, and the evening was humid and very
hot. 8at went to automatic. 'e shot randomly, almost
casually, !uick little spurts in the belly. &hen he
reloaded, s!uatted down, and shot it in the left front
knee. -gain the animal fell hard and tried to get up,
but this time it couldn,t !uite make it. 2t wobbled and
went down sideways. 8at shot it in the nose. 'e bent
forward and whispered something, as if talking to a
pet, then he shot it in the throat. -ll the while the baby
water buffalo was silent, or almost silent, *ust a little
bubbling sound where the nose had been. 2t lay very
still. Nothing moved except the eyes, which were
enormous, the pupils shiny black and dumb.
8at :iley was crying. 'e tried to say something, but
them cradled his rifle and went off by himself.
&he rest of us stood in a ragged circle around the baby
buffalo. For a long time no one spoke. .e had
witnessed some% thing essential, something brand%new
and profound, a piece of the world so startling there
was not yet a word for it.
"omebody kicked the baby buffalo.
165
2t was still alive, though *ust barely, *ust in the eyes.
/-ma$ing,1 3ave ensen said. /+y whole life, 2 never
seen anything like it.1
M...N /Never01 /Not hardly. Not once.1
:iowa and +itchell "anders picked up the baby
buffalo. &hey hauled it across the open s!uare, hoisted
it up, and dumped it in the village well.
-fterward, we sat waiting for 8at to get himself
together.
/-ma$ing,1 3ave ensen kept saying. /- new wrinkle. 2
never seen it before.1
+itchell "anders took out his yo%yo. /.ell, that,s
Nam,, he said. /9arden of 5vil. 6ver here, man, every
sin,s ret fresh and original.1

'ow do you generali$e0
.ar is hell, but that,s not the half of it, because war is
mystery and terror and adventure and courage and
discovery and holiness and pity and despair and
longing and love. .ar is nasty; war is fun. .ar is
thrilling; war is drudgery. .ar makes you a man; war
makes you dead.
&he truths are contradictory. 2t can be argued, for
instance, that war is grotes!ue. 7ut in truth war is also
beauty. For all its horror, you can,t help but gape at the
awful ma*esty of combat. You stare out at tracer
rounds unwinding through the dark like brilliant red
ribbons. You crouch in ambush as a cool, impassive
moon rises over the nighttime paddies. You admire the
fluid symmetries of troops on the move, the great
sheets of metal%fire streaming down from a gunship,
the illumination rounds, the white phosphorus, the
purply orange glow of napalm, the rocket,s red glare.
2t,s not pretty, exactly. 2t,s astonishing. 2t fills the eye.
2t commands you. You hate it, yes, but your eyes do
not. Like a killer forest fire, like cancer under a
microscope, any battle or bombing raid or artillery
barrage has the aesthetic purity of absolute moral
indifference % a powerful, implacable beauty % and a
true war story will tell the truth about this, though the
truth is ugly.
&o generali$e about war is like generali$ing about
peace. -lmost everything is true. -lmost nothing is
true. &hough it,s odd, you,re never more alive than
when you,re almost dead. You recogni$e what,s
valuable. Freshly, as if for the first time, you love
what,s best in yourself and in the world, all that might
be lost. -t the hour of dusk you sit at your foxhole and
look out on a wide river turning pinkish red, and at the
mountains beyond, and although in the morning you
must cross the river and go into the mountains and do
terrible things and maybe die, even so, you find
yourself studying the fine colors on the river, you feel
wonder and awe at the setting of the sun, and you are
filled with a hard, aching love for how the world could
be and always should be, but now is not.
+itchell "anders was right. For the common soldier, at
least, war has the feel % the spiritual texture % of a great
ghostly fog, thick and permanent. &here is no clarity.
5verything swirls. &he old rules are no longer binding,
the old truths no longer true. 8ight spills over into
wrong. 6rder blends into chaos, hate into love,
ugliness into beauty, law into anarchy, civility into
savagery. &he vapors suck you in. You can,t tell where
you are, or why you,re there, and the only certainty is
absolute ambiguity.
2n war you lose your sense of the definite, hence your
sense of truth itself, and therefore it,s safe to say that
in a true war story nothing is absolutely true.

6ften in a true war story there is not even a point, or
else the point doesn,t hit you until, say, twenty years
later, in your sleep, and you wake up and shake your
wife and start telling the story to her, except when you
get to the end you,ve forgotten the point again. -nd
then for a long time you lie there watching the story
happen in your head. You listen to your wife,s
breathing. &he war,s over. You close your eyes. You
smile and think, (hrist, what,s the &oint0

&his one wakes me up.
2n the mountains that day, 2 watched Lemon turn
sideways. 'e laughed and said something to 8at :iley.
&hen he took a funny half step, moving from shade
into bright sunlight, and the booby%trapped artillery
round blew him into a tree. &he parts were *ust
hanging there, so 3ave ensen and 2 were ordered to
shinny up and peel him off. 2 remember the white
bone of an arm. 2 remember pieces of skin and
something wet and yellow. &he gore was horrible, and
stays with me. 7ut what wakes me up twenty years
later is 3ave ensen singing /Lemon &ree1 as we threw
down the parts.

You can tell a true war story by the !uestions you ask.
"omebody tells a story, let,s say, and afterward you
ask, /2s it true01 and if the answer matters, you,ve got
your answer.
166
For example, we,ve all heard this one. Four guys go
down a trail. - grenade sails out. 6ne guy *umps on it
and takes the blast and saves his three buddies.
2s it true0
&he answer matters.
You,d feel cheated if it never happened. .ithout the
grounding reality, it,s *ust a trite bit of puffery, pure
'ollywood, untrue in the way all such stories are
untrue. Yet even if it did happen % and maybe it did,
anything,s possible even then you know it can,t be
true, because a true war story does not depend upon
that kind of truth. -bsolute occurrence is irrelevant. -
thing may happen and be a total lie; another thing may
not happen and be truer than the truth. For example4
Four guys go down a trail. - grenade sails out. 6ne guy
*umps on it and takes the blast, but it,s a killer grenade
and everybody dies anyway. 7efore they die, though,
one of the dead guys says, /&he fuck you do that for01
and the *umper says, /"tory of my life, man,1 and the
other guy starts to smile but he,s dead.
&hat,s a true story that never happened.

&wenty years later, 2 can still see the sunlight on (urt
Lemon,s face. 2 can see him turning, looking back at
8at :iley, then he laughed and took that curious half
step from shade into sunlight, his face brown and
shining, and when his foot touched down, in that
instant, he must,ve thought it was the sunlight that
was killing him. 2t was not the sunlight. 2t was a rigged
=D? round. 7ut if 2 could ever get the story right, how
the sun seemed to gather around him and pick him up
and lift him into that tree, if 2 could somehow recreate
the fatal whiteness of that light, the !uick glare, the
obvious cause and effect, then you would believe the
last thing (urt Lemon believed, which for him must,ve
been the final truth. "unlight was killing him.

Now and then, when 2 tell this story, someone will
come up to me afterward and say she liked it. 2t,s
always a woman. Usually it,s an older woman of kindly
temperament and humane politics. "he,ll explain that
as a rule she hates war stories; she can,t understand
why people want to wallow in all the blood and gore.
7ut this one she liked. &he poor baby buffalo, it made
her sad. "ometimes, even, there are little tears. .hat 2
should do, she,ll say, is put it all behind me.
Find new stories to tell.
2 won,t say it but 2,ll think it.
2,ll picture 8at :iley,s face, his grief, and 2,ll think, You
dum* coo+e.
7ecause she wasn,t listening.
2t wasn!t a war story. 2t was a love story.
7ut you can,t say that. -ll you can do is tell it one more
time, patiently, adding and subtracting, making up a
few things to get at the real truth. No +itchell "anders,
you tell her. No (urt Lemon, no 8at :iley. No baby
buffalo. No trail *unction. No baby buffalo. 2t,s all
made up. 7eginning to end. 5very goddamn detail %
the mountains and the river and especially that poor
dumb baby buffalo. None of it happened. None of it.
-nd even if it did happen, it didn,t happen in the
mountains, it happened in this little village on the
7atangan #eninsula, and it was raining like cra$y, and
one night a guy named "tink 'arris woke up
screaming with a leech on his tongue. You can tell a
true war story if you *ust keep on telling it. -nd in the
end, of course, a true war story is never about war. 2t,s
about sunlight. 2t,s about the special way that dawn
spreads out on a river when you know you must cross
that river and march into the mountains and do things
you are afraid to do. 2t,s about love and memory. 2t,s
about sorrow.
2t,s about sisters who never write back and people who
never listen.
M&2+ 6,7825N, The Things They -arried, New York
=>>D, pp.@C%>=N
6riting "ietnam
Tim ,Brien" Presidents Le#ture" -.
A'ril .///
The Brown Cniversity 3e&artment of English and
-reative Writing Program hosted a conference on
?Writing 6ietnam@ from "&ril 89 to "&ril 8L, 9===.
012
Tim &4Brien- &hank you. &hanks. &hank you. &hank
you. &hank you, it,s a pleasure to be here tonight. 2,ve
got a really bad cold%both of my ears are stopped up; 2
can barely hear my own voice. 2,ve got people in the
audience kind of going like this and like this (gestures
with hands) to kind of modulate my volume. .hen 2
began preparing this little talk, 2 was very !uickly
reminded that one of the reasons 2 became a fiction
writer is 2 don,t know anything. 2 don,t mean this in a
falsely humble sense. 2 mean, !uite literally, that 2
have very little to offer you in the way of abstraction or
generali$ation; the sort of thing that can be
communicated in a #resident,s Lecture. 2,m not a
literary historian, 2,m not a critic, 2,m not a teacher. 2
167
spend my days, and a good many of my nights, writing
stories. -nd 2 don,t devote a lot of time or a lot of
energy worrying about the hows or the whys of it all,
instead taking a kind of la$y man,s conviction in the
belief that stories re!uire no *ustification; they *ust
are. 2t,s a conviction, too, 2 suppose, that abstraction
and generali$ation are precisely the reverse of what 2
do as a storyteller. -bstraction may make your head
believe, but a good story, well told, will also make your
kidneys believe, and your scalp and your tear ducts,
your heart, and your stomach, the whole human being.
2n any case, after, 2 don,t know, twenty aborted
attempts to compose a lecture for tonight, 2 finally
gave it up, and decided to spend my time with you
doing what 2 do best, which is to tell stories. 2 did,
however, save a few nuggets from my original efforts
at a lecture. 2 *ust want to share them with you; it,ll
only take about four seconds4
Number one4 writing never gets easier, it gets harder.
You can,t repeat yourself. Unlike, say, a professional
surgeon, you cannot perform precisely the same
operation with the same protocol in case after case,
and even for a surgeon, this would be risky, if one,s
first patient happened to end up in a mortuary.
Number H4 use active verbs. -void ridiculous similes.
For example4 do not write, /her neck was like a swan,s,
long and graceful.1 2nstead write, /she honked.1 &hree4
avoid unintentional puns. 3o not write, /she came in a
eep.1 Four I2 did that in the "tlantic monthly, believe
it or notJ4 Four4 avoid alliteration. 3o not write, !uote,
/&he red, rollicking river of his tongue rubbed me the
wrong way.1 2nstead write, /'e kissed me with
conviction,1 or, perhaps, more simply, /'e kissed me.
2 gagged.1 Finally, as my last salvageable little *ewel, 2
thought it might be helpful to begin by stating the
obvious, or what should be obvious, a writer must,
above all, write. oseph (onrad, in a letter to a friend,
describes his daily routine4 /2 sit down religiously
every morning. 2 sit down for eight hours every day,
and the sitting down is all.1 Note (onrad says he sits
down to write every day. "aturdays, "undays,
religiously, he says. 7eyond anything, it seems to me, a
writer performs this sitting%down act primarily in
search of those rare, very intense moments of artistic
pleasure that are as real in their way as the pleasures
that can come from any other sourceGthe rush of
endorphins, for instance, that accompanies the
making of a nice little bit of dialogue. -nd this isn,t to
say that writing isn,t painfulGand it is, most of the
timeGbut at the same time, there is no pleasure
without the pain. -s much as writing hurts, it carries
with it, at times, content, satisfaction, which, in part, 2
think, is what (onrad is getting at when he says, /&he
sitting down is all.1 2n my own case, 2 get up at about
six%thirty, seven o,clock every day, try to be at work by
eight, work until about one o,clock in the afternoon,
work out for a couple of hours %. Uh, lifting weights is
my hobby, but even when 2,m doing that, 2,m still
writing in my head, going over a bit of dialogue, kind
of mumbling aloud, or trying to come up with *ust that
right word that,s been eluding me during the morning
hours. &ake shower, go back to work, and write until
about six o,clock at night. 2 work on (hristmas, 2 work
at New Years, my birthday, my girlfriend,s birthdayG
it,s all 2 do. -nd yet, as monotonous as it might sound
to you, it gives me great, great pleasure.
Now, what 2 thought 2 %. &hat,s sort of the end of the
little prepared thing 2,d done. .hat 2 want to do with
you now is to doGis to tell you, basically, two stories.
Uh, the pair of stories are kind of wedded together by
the common theme, that 2 hope will sort of soak
through by osmosis. 2 grew up, as #resident M5.
9ordonN 9ee said, in a small prairie town in southern
+innesota, population, what, nine thousand or so0 2f
you look in a dictionary under the word /boring,1 you
will find a little pen%and%ink illustration of
.orthington, +innesota, where 2 grew up. 6n one
side of town, of the highway coming into town, you,ll
see soybeans, on the other side of the highway, fields
of corn. 2t,s a place that gives new meaning to the word
flat. &he town, for reasons unknown, took pride, and
to this day still takes pride, in calling itself /&he
&urkey (apital of the .orld.1 Uh, why they took pride
in this 2,m not !uite sure. 5very "eptember in my
home town, on "eptember fifteenth there is an event
called T&urkey 3ay.1 -nd what &urkey 3ay consists of
is the farmers will put their turkeys in their trucks, uh,
drive them into town, dump them in front of the 5sso
gas station on one end of +ain "treet, and then they,ll
herd the turkeys up +ain "treet, and we, the citi$ens
of .orthington, will all sit on the curbs and watch the
turkeys go by (laughs). -nd then we,d go home. &hat,s
our big dayL .ell, you can imagine what the rest of the
days are like.
2magine yourself as a nine year old, ten year old kid,
growing up in this godforsaken place; a place, by the
way that,s no better and no worse than any town like it
across this country of ours; a town full of chatty
housewives and holier than thou ministers, and the
:iwanis boys with their, you know, their white belts
and their white shoes, and the country club set, a town
that congratulates itself, day after day, on its own
ignorance of the world4 a town that got us into
<ietnam. Uh, the people in that town sent me to that
war, you know, couldn,t spell the word /'anoi1 if you
spotted them three vowels. &hey couldn,t do it. 2n any
case, they sent meGwell, again, imagine yourself as a
nine year old, in my case, boy, growing up in this
place. .hat do you do to escape it0 .ell, one way to
escape it, 2 found, was through books and through
reading, and 2 spent a great deal of my youth in the
Noble,s (ounty Library, on Fourth "treet in
.orthington, reading books like, you know,
4ucle*erry Finn, and Tom #awyer, but also stuff
that was essentially crap4 books like The 4ardy Boys,
as an example, for which, you know, the avenue
towards literature really doesn,t matter much, as long
as you like reading, 2 suppose. 2t matters later. &hen it
didn,t.
16*
2 spent most of my summers as a kid playing a crappy
shortstop for the 7en Franklin%store Little League
teamGcouldn,t field, couldn,t hit, couldn,t run,
couldn,t throwGotherwise, a pretty good shortstop. 2
remember coming off of Little League practice one
afternoon in uly. 2t probably was nineteen fifty%eight,
a particularly disastrous, even catastrophic day on the,
on the baseball field, and going into the library%it was
one of these little (arnegie libraries that dot small%
town -merica, a place that, if 2 were to close my eyes
right now, 2 couldG2 would be there. 2 could see the
ceiling fan spinning as you,re walking in, and the smell
of ohnson,s paste wax on the floor, and those smells
ofGlibrary smells, of paper and books and ink and
glue. - kind of, the atmosphere was a kind of place
that, as you enter it, instantly makes your bowels kind
of relax. You know the feeling, don,t you0 :ind of
peaceful, at%home feeling. .ell, on this day, 2 found a
book calledGit was as instrumental in my becoming a
writer as, say, +ar!ue$ or FaulknerGthe book was
entitled /Larry of the Little League.1 2 read this book
in, what, a half an hour or so, but what a half an hourL
&his kid Larry could do everything 2 couldn,t do4 he
could field, hit, run, and throw. 2 finished the book,
marched over to the librarian, asked for a pad of paper
and a pen, which she gave to me, went back to my
desk, and over the course of the next hour and a half,
at age nine, possibly ten, composed the first novel of
my life, or what 2 thought of as a novel. &he title was
/&immy of the Little League,1 essentially a rip%off of
Larry. 2tG2 remember on theGmy mom and dad, 2
think, still have this aborted effortG2 remember on
page ten or so of thisGit was hand%written, in big
handwriting, but on page ten or so, uh, the
.orthington 7en Franklin team won the .orthington,
uh, Little League, you know, championship. -nd 2, in
the character of &immy, got the game%winning hit. 6n
page twenty or so, the team went up to +inneapolis%
"t. #aul Little League championship, where the
.orthington 7en Franklin team defeated a team from
5dina, this kind of rit$y%dit$y, rich people,s suburbG
you guys would fit in thereGa place we really despised,
and again, the game%winning hit was by little &immy,
and at the end of the book, on page thirty or whatever
it was, when 2 called it0000, the team went to
.illiamsport, #ennsylvania, where they defeated
&aiwan, like, eighty to nothing, and again, the game%
winning hit was mine.
.ell, 2 tell you this story for a reason; the reason being
that writers often forget or neglect to talk about those
sources that have very little to do with, you know the
"hakespeares, andGall of which is important, 2 don,t
mean to denigrate that for an instant, but of e!ual
importance in some ways is that experience in
childhood, a source of loneliness and frustration 2 felt
growing up in this town, escape through books, and a
discovery of writing through a book like /Larry of the
Little League.1 2 learned other practical lessons, 2
might add, in writing that book, that 2 don,t often talk
about %%. 2 certainly don,t talk about them in
interviews, but among them being that 2 was writing in
that book the story, not of what was, the world 2 lived
in, but the story of what could have been or should
have been, which is what fiction is all about. -nd 2
could have been a good shortstop, 2 should have been
G2 wasn,t. 7ut in that book 2 became another person,
assumed a new identity, and lived in another world,
the world of success, in this case; a world outside of
.orthington, +innesota, and many years laterGuh,
what, twenty or something like thatG2 wrote a novel
called 2oing "fter -acciato, my sort of first successful
book, that the premise of which was essentially that of
/&immy of the Little League%1 a book about a soldier
walking away from <ietnam, heading for #aris. Uh, 2
didn,t do it, but 2 could have, and more importantly, 2
should have, because, you know, 2 was so opposed to
that war. .hat,s to stop me in the could%have part0
You know, 2,ve got the weapon, the water, the rationsG
the weapon to get more water and rations andGit can,t
be any more dangerous than <ietnam, *ust walking
over those mountains, and heading through &hailand,
and ending up in #aris.
-s a fiction writer, 2 do not write *ust about the world
we live in, but 2 also write about the world we ought to
live in, and could, which is a world of imagination. 2
grew up, 2 left .orthington, went to college at a place
called +acalaster (ollege in "t. #aul, +innesota, and
during my four years in college, the <ietnam .ar
began more and more raising its head. &he war was
escalating rapidly, and 2 spent my four years in
+acalaster doing two things sort of simultaneously,
and they were contradictory things. 6ne was kind of
trying to ignore it all, hoping it would go away, that it
wouldn,t capture me as a person. 2 had kind of a smug
attitude about it all, thinking, /well, 2,m a good
student, and smart, and they won,t take me as a
soldier,1 2 really believed that it was impossible. 7ut by
the time 2 became a senior 2 began to reali$e that it
was more and more possible. 2 rang some doorbells for
9ene +c(arthy, running as a peace candidate. Uh, 2
was student body president, tried to use that as a, you
know, in a minor kind of way, as a way of showing my
opposition to the war. "tood in peace vigils on campus
G2 graduated in +ay of nineteen sixty%eight, which
now seems a lifetime ago, returned to .orthington for
the summer. 2 remember coming off the golf course in
an afternoon in mid%une and going to the mailbox,
and finding in the mailbox my draft notice. 2 took it
into the kitchen where my mother and father were
having lunch, and 2 dropped it on the table. +y father
looked at it, and my mom looked at it, and 2 looked at
it, and there was an absolute silence in that kitchen.
&hey knew about my feelings toward the war, how
much 2 despised it, but they also knew 2 was a child of
.orthington, this place, this &urkey (apital place 2
*ust told you about. +y father had been a sailor in
.orld .ar &wo; my mother was a .ave, you know, a
kind of Navy woman. Uh, there was a tradition of
service to country in my family.
.ell, anyway, a long time passed in that kitchen; it
might have been a half an hour, when no one spoke.
16+
+y mother fiddled at the stove, and my dad would you
know, *ust sort of ate his soup, and, uh, finally he
looked up at me and said, /.hat are you going to do01
-nd 2 said, /2 don,t know. .ait.1 .hich was what 2 did
for the rest of the summer of nineteen sixty%eight. 2
took a *ob in a meat%packing plant in my hometown,
where 2 worked on an assembly line eight hours a day,
or more properly, a disassembly line. 2t was a pig
factory. &he hogs were butchered in one part of the
plant, they were strung up by their hind hocks, on a
kind of high conveyer belt, and as they came by, my
*ob was, 2 held aGit looked like a machine gunGit was
a thing that was this big, it weighed maybe eighty
pounds, and it was suspended from the ceiling by a
heavy rubber cord strong enough to actually hold it,
but it had some give to it, you could move this thing
around. -nd as the hogs came by, the heads had been
cut off, they,d been split open down the belly and pried
open, so the blood had all congealed in the neck cavity
Gthey were upside downGand my *ob was to get rid of
the blood clots, essentially, these kind of big,
grapefruit%si$ed clots of blood. -nd to do this, 2,d take
this machine which had a roller brush on one end and
a trigger on this end, and 2,d put the roller brush into
the pig,s, uh, neck cavity, pull the trigger, the brush
would spin, water would come out, and these clots of
blood would, uh, would dissolve into kind of a fine red
mist. 2 spent the summer, essentially, breathing pig
blood. Not a nice *ob. -nd especially not a nice *ob
when one has a draft notice tucked away in a back
pocket.
+y dreams, obviously, were dreams of slaughter that
summerGblood dreams. 6n top of everything else, 2
might add, 2 smelled like a pork chop. You couldn,t get
that pig factory smell out of your skin and your hair.
You know, you,d shower at the plant and then again at
home, but you really did smell like bacon or a pork
chop as you,d spend your nights, you know, cruising
around this small town in your father,s car, stopping at
the -Y. for a root beer, and staring at the town lake,
wondering what,s going to become of me when the
summer is over. .ell, 2,ve told this story before, and
2,ve written about it in The Things They -arried, as
some of you know, that read it. 7ut parts of the story
are hard to tell, and now 2,m at one of those points.
Near the end of the summer, something happened to
me that, to this day, 2 don,t fully understand. 6ne day,
at a pig line, as 2 was pulling this trigger, something
exploded in my stomach. 2t felt like a water balloon
that popped open inside of me. 2t was a leaky, gaseous,
watery feelingGa feeling of, uh, real despair. 2 nearly
began crying. 2 immediately put this gun down, walked
out of the plant without taking a shower, got in my
dad,s car, drove home, uh, went in the house, and *ust
stood in that kitchen, the kitchen 2 told you about,
lookingGmy mom and dad weren,t home, 2 don,t know
where they were that afternoon. Uh, 2 went down into
the basement where my room was, and 2 packed a bag,
filled it up with clothingG2 had a passport from a trip
to 5urope the previous summer. 2 got back in my
mom,s car, and took off.
For those of you who don,t know the geography,
+innesota is on the (anadian border, and eight hours
later, after a drive 2 essentially forget, a blurry drive,
*ust pure velocity, 2 found myself in a place called
2nternational Falls, +innesota, up on the +innesota%
(anadian border. 2 hadn,t planned any of this%2 had
sort of half%daydreamed about it, but never seriously.
7y that time it was close to midnight; 2 spent the night
in the car, uh, in a%a closed%down gas station%very %%. 2t
was a sleepless night. 2n the morning, as dawn began
to break, 2 got%2 started the car, and 2 began driving
east, along the 8ainy 8iver, which is a river that
physically separates, uh, +innesota from (anada. 2t,s
not *ust a river4 it,s as wide as a lake, in parts. 2t,s a big
river. Um, 2 was looking for a way across, you know, a
bridge. .ithin a half an hour or so, 2 came across a
closed%down, uh, resort along the river, a place called
the &ip%&op Lodge. 2t wasn,t really a lodge4 it was a
sort of%ten yellow cabins along the river. &ourist
season was over by then, so the place was abandoned,
but 2 stopped anyway, thinking, well, 2,ll think it over
for one last night before 2 walk away from my own life
and from the world 2 knew. 2 went up to the main
building and knocked on the door. - little man came
to the door. 'e was really a small guy, he was like a
foot tall. 2 mean he was really a tiny little guy. 'e was
dressed all in, all in brown, you know, the kind of
north woods lookGbrown shirt and brown pantsG
brown everything. Uh, for the first time in my life 2
could actually look down at somebody%2 remember
looking down at the guy, and he looking up at me, and
he said, /.hat do you want01 -nd 2 said, /- place to
stay.1 'e introduced himself to me; his name was
5lroy 7erdahl. &he man is the hero of my life. 2f, uh,
heroes comeGcome in small packages, this guy did. 'e
took one look at me and 2 know that instantly he knew
that here,s a kid in deep trouble. Uh, he was no
dummy. 'e knew there was a war on, he knew this
was the (anadian border, he could see how old 2 was,
he could see the terror in my eyes, 2,m sure. 'e said,
/No problem.1 'e gave me a key, and walked me to
one of his little cabins, and said to me, /2 hope you like
fish,1 and 2 said, /Yeah.1
.ell, 2 spent the next six days with old 5lroy 7erdahl
on the 8ainy 8iver, trying to decide what to do with
my, you know, my life. 6n the one hand, 2 did oppose
the war. 2t seemed to me that certain blood was being
shed for uncertain reasonsGthat is to say, the reasons
for the war were all under dispute. 2t was a time when
'awks were at the throats of 3oves, when smart
people in pinstripes couldn,t make their minds up
about the rectitude of the war. You know, smart people
were saying the war was right; smart people were
saying it,s dead wrong, and where was the truth in all
this swirling ambiguity0 Uh, 2 opposed it, but on the
other hand, 2 was a child of .orthington, +innesota. 2
didn,t know everything. Uh, 2 didn,t know much about
the history of <ietnam, the politics of it allGmaybe 2
was mistaken. 7eyond that, 2 felt drawn by -merica
itself, even by this little shitty town that 2 told you
about. 2 felt drawn to it because, as bad it was, it was
17,
mine, and 2 didn,t want to leave it, and 2 didn,t want to
leave -merica. 2 felt like 2 was one of those pigs that
had been pried open, pulled two different waysGpart
of me being pulled toward the war; part of me being
pulled toward (anada. -nd 2 was, hell, 2 was your ageL
-nd that,s a tough thing to do when you,re that old, to
decide to walk away from your whole history.
.ell, during those six days at the &ip%&op Lodge, what
do 2 tell you0 &hey were as important as anything that
later happened in <ietnam. &hey were much more
traumatic than anything that happened in <ietnamG2
was wounded, and 2 saw death all around me. 7ut
those six days at the &ip%&op lodge were a lot worse. 2t
was a poignant decision that 2 can,t, uh, even begin
here to describe for you, except as a storyteller. 2
remember old 5llroy watching me all the time during
these six daysGhe was a very !uiet guy. -s 2 said, he
knew something was wrong, but he was the sort of
person who would never talk about it or ask about it. 2
mean, he was the kind of guy who, if you were to walk
into a bar with two heads, and old 5llroy,s sitting
there, he would talk about everything except that extra
head. 'e,d talk about the weather, and, you know, and
Lutheranism, but not the extra head. &hat,s the kind of
+idwestern, even +innesotan, way of dealing with
things like this. Uh, but he saw some strange behavior
on my part. 2 remember one afternoon we were out
behind theGhis lodge. 'e was showing me how to split
wood. -nd 2 began sweating%2 *ust couldn,t shut the
sweat off; 2 *ust was like a spigot had been turned on
inside me, *ust full of it. 6ne night 2 vomited at his
table. Not out ofGit wasn,t the fish; it was a spiritual
sickness inside of me. 2 remember lying awake at
night, full of very peculiar hallucinationsG2 mean , it
wasn,t, it wasn,t hallucination, really, but the kind of
thoughts you have when you,re suffering from the flu,
or you,re really sick. 2,d imagine being chased through
the (anadian woods by the 8oyal (anadian +ounted
#olice, and dogs barking, and spotlights on meG
people even in my hometown yelling deserter, sissy,
cowardGthings like this.
.ell, near the end of my stay on the sixth and last day
there, 5llroy did a thing that, in a way, made me into a
writer, as much as, you know, Larry of the Little
League. 'e said to me, uh, /Let,s get in the boat. .e,ll
go fishing.1 "o we got into this, you know, little twelve
foot boat of his, and we went across to the (anadian
side, and he stopped the boat, maybe, 2 don,t know,
fifteen yards or so, from the (anadian, you know,
where the wilderness was, and he tossed his line in
and started fishing. 2 was in the front of the boat, in
the bow, and he was in the back, where the engine was,
and 2 can now, again like that library, 2 can feel myself
there, bobbing in that slate%gray water, fifteen yards
from (anada. 2t was as close to me as the third row
here, fourth row, 2 could see the berries on the bushes
and the blackbirds and stones, my coming future. 2
could have done it, 2 could have *umped out of that
boat, started swimming for my life. "o time went by;
again, old 5llroy *ust said nothing, *ust let me bob
there. 2 think he knew what he was doing. 'e was
bringing me face to face with it all, and wanted to kind
of be there for me the way 9od is there for us, you
knowGnot really present, but sort of over our shoulder
somewhere, whatever the stand%in for 9od might be
for you, like a conscience bearing witness, and *ust
here. -fterGnot long, a couple of minutesG2 started
crying. 2t wasn,t loud, *ust kind of like the chest%
chokes, when you,re crying, but you,re trying not to,
and even then, he said nothing, not a word. -fter,
what, twenty minutes or so, he reeled his line in, said
/-in,t bitin.,1 &urned on the engine, and took me back.
.ell, after we got back to the +innesota shore, 2 went
back to my cabin, and 2 knew it was all over.
.hat 2 was crying about, you see, wasGwas not self%
pity. 2 was crying with the knowledge that 2,d be going
to <ietnam, that 2 was essentially a coward, that 2
couldn,t do the right thing, 2 couldn,t go to (anada.
9iven what 2 believed, anyway, the right thing would
have been to follow your conscience, and 2 couldn,t do
it. .hy, to this day, 2,m not sure, 2 can speculate it.
"ome of it had to do with raw embarrassment, a fear of
blushing, a fear of some old farmer in my town saying
to another farmer, /3id you hear what the 6,7rien kid
did0 &he sissy went to (anada.1 -nd imagining my
mom and dad sitting in the next booth over,
overhearing this, you know, and imagining their eyes
colliding and bouncing away, and%uh, 2 was afraid of
embarrassment. +en died in <ietnam, by the way, out
of the same fear%you know, not out of nobility or
patriotism; they were *ust af%they charged bunkers and
machine gun nests, *ust because they would be
embarrassed not to, later on, in front of their buddies.
Not a noble motive for human behavior, but 2 tell you
one thing, one you,d better think about in your lives,
that sometimes doing the hard thing is also doing the
embarrassing thing, and when that moment strikes, it
hits you hard. 2 didn,t see 5llroy again. 2 got up the
next morning, and 2 went to, you know, his little lodge
thing, and 2 knocked on the door, and he wasn,t there.
2 could see right way he was gone, his pickup was
gone. 2 left a little note for him, saying thank you. Uh, 2
got in my%the car, and 2 drove north%or drove south,
rather, out of the pine forest, down to the prairies of
"outhern +innesota. .ithin two weeks 2 was in the
-rmy, and about four months after that in <ietnam.
Now, what 2 have told you is, is a war story. .ar
stories aren,t always about war, per se. &hey aren,t
about bombs and bullets and military maneuvers.
&hey aren,t about tactics, they aren,t about foxholes
and canteens. .ar stories, like any good story, is
finally about the human heart. -bout the choices we
make, or fail to make. &he forfeitures in our lives.
"tories are to console and to inspire and to help us
heal. "tories are for those late hours in the night when
you can,t remember how you got from where you were
to where you are. -nd a good war story, in my opinion,
is a story that strikes you as important, not for war
content, but for its heart content. &he second reason 2
told you this story is that none of it,s true. 6r very little
171
of it. 2t,sGinvented. No 5llroy, no &ip%&op Lodge, no
pig factory, 2,m trying to think of what else. 2,ve never
been to the 8ainy 8iver in my life. Uh, not even close
to it. 2 haven,t been within two hundred miles of the
place. No boats. 7ut, although the story 2 invented, it,s
still true, which is what fiction is all about. Uh, if 2
were to tell you the literal truth of what happened to
me in the summer of nineteen sixty%eight, all 2 could
tell you was that 2 played golf, and 2 worried about
getting drafted. 7ut that,s a crappy story. 2sn,t it0 2t
doesn,tGit doesn,t open any door to what 2 was feeling
in the summer of nineteen sixty%eight. &hat,s what
fiction is for. 2t,s for getting at the truth when the truth
isn,t sufficient for the truth. &he pig factory is there for
those dreams of slaughterGthey were !uite real inside
of me. -nd in my own heart, 2 was certainly on that
rainy river, trying to decide what to do, whether to go
to the war or not go to it, say no or say yes. &he story is
still true, even though on one level it,s not; it,s made
up.
&he point was not to pull a fast one, any more than,
you know, +ark &wain is trying to pull a fast one in
'uckleberry Finn. "tories make you believe, that,s
what dialogue is for, that,s what plot is for, and
character. 2t,s there to make you believe it as you,re
reading it. You don,t read 4ucle*erry Finn saying
/&his never happened, this never happened, this never
happened, this never happened%1 2 mean, you don,t do
that, or go to The 2odfather and say, you know, no
horse head. 2 mean, you don,t think that way; you
believe. - verisimilitude and truth in that literal sense,
to me, is ultimately irrelevant. .hat is relevant is the
human heart.
-ll right, 2 want to finish up here with *ust a little%a
short little snatch from something that is a little more
based on%2,m not going to say based on%a little more
out of the real world 2 lived in, and then 2,ll take
whatever !uestions you might have, *ust for, you
know, a brief time. &his little thing, it,ll only take, like,
two minutes to read this, or five or something. .hen
she was nine, my daughter :athleen asked me if 2,d
ever killed anyone. "he knew about the war, she knew
2,d been a soldier. /You keep writing war stories,1 she
said, /so 2 guess you must,ve killed somebody.1 2t was
a difficult moment but 2 did what 2 thought was right,
which was to say, /6f course not,1 and then to take her
onto my lap and hold her for a while. "omeday, 2 hope,
she,ll ask again 7ut here, now 2 want to pretend she,s a
grown%up. 2 want to tell her exactly what happened, or
what 2 remember happening, and then 2 want to say to
he that as a little girl she was absolutely right. &his is
why 2 keep telling war stories4
'e was a short slender young man of about twenty. 2
was afraid of him%afraid of something%and as he
passed me on the trail 2 threw a grenade that exploded
at his feet and killed him.
6r to go back4
"hortly after midnight we moved into the ambush site
outside +y :he. &he whole platoon was there, spread
out in the dense brush along the trail, and for five
hours nothing at all happened. .e were working in
two%man teams%one man on guard while the other
slept, switching off every two hours%and 2 remember it
was still dark when :iowa shook me awake for the
final watch. &he night was foggy and hot. For the first
few moments 2 felt lost, not sure about directions,
groping for my helmet and weapon. 2 reached out and
found three grenades and lined them up in front of
me; the pins had already been straightened for !uick
throwing. -nd then for maybe half an hour 2 kneeled
there and waited. <ery gradually, in tiny slivers, dawn
began to break through the fog, and from my position
in the brush 2 could see ten or fifteen meters up the
trail. &he mos!uitoes were fierce. 2 remember slapping
at them, wondering if 2 should wake up :iowa and go
get some repellent, then thinking it was a bad idea,
then looking up and seeing the young man come out of
the morning fog. 'e wore black clothing and rubber
sandals and a gray ammunition belt. 'is shoulders
were slightly stooped, his head cocked to the side as if
listening for something. 'e seemed at ease. 'e carried
his weapon in one hand, mu$$le down, moving
without any hurry up the center of the trail. &here was
no sound at allGnone that 2 can remember. 2n a way, it
seemed, he was part of the morning fog, or my own
imagination, but there was also the reality of what was
happening in my stomach. 2 had already pulled the pin
on a grenade. 2 had come up to a crouch. 2t was
entirely automatic. 2 did not hate the young man; 2 did
not see him as the enemy; 2 did not ponder issues of
morality or politics or *ustice. 2 crouched and kept my
head low. 2 tried to swallow whatever was rising from
my stomach, which tasted like lemonade, something
fruity and sour. 2 was terrified. &here were no thoughts
about killing. &he grenade was to make him go away%
*ust evaporate%and leaned back and felt my head go
empty and then felt it fill up again. 2 had already
thrown the grenade before telling myself to throw it. 2t
was gone. &he brush was thick and 2 had to lob it high,
not aiming, and 2 remember the grenade seeming to
free$e above me for an instant, as if a camera had
clicked, and 2 remember ducking down and holding
my breath and seeing little wisps of fog rise from the
earth. &he grenade bounced once and rolled across the
trail. 2 did not hear it, but there must,ve been a sound,
because the young man dropped his weapon and
began to run, *ust two or three !uick steps. &hen he
looked down at the grenade, turned to his right, and
tried to cover his head but never did. 2t occurred to me
then that he was about to die. 2 wanted to warn him.
&he grenade made a popping noiseGnot loud, not
what you,d expect. ust a pop, and there was a puff of
dust and smoke and the young man seemed to *erk
upward as if pulled by invisible wires. 'e fell on his
back. 'is rubber sandals had been blown off. 'e lay at
the center of the trail, his right leg bent beneath him,
his one eye shut, his other eye a huge star%shaped hole.
172
For me, it was not a matter of live or die. &here was no
real peril. -lmost certainly the young man would have
passed me by. -nd it will always be that way.
Later, 2 remember, :iowa tried to tell me that the man
would,ve died anyway. 'e told me that it was a good
kill, that 2 was a soldier and this was a war, that 2
should shape up and stop staring, that 2 should ask
myself what the dead man would,ve done if things
were reversed.
7ut you see, none of it mattered. &he words, or
language, far too complicated. -ll 2 could do was gape
at the fact of the young man,s body.
5ven now, three decades later, 2 haven,t finished
sorting it out. "ometimes 2 forgive myself, other times
2 don,t. 2n the ordinary hours of life 2 try not to think
about it, but now and then, when 2,m reading a
newspaper or *ust sitting alone in a room, 2,ll look up
and see the young man coming out of the morning fog.
2,ll watch him walk toward me, his shoulders slightly
stooped, his head cocked to the side, and he,ll pass
within a few yards of me and suddenly smile at some
secret thought and then continue up the trail to where
it bends back into the fog.
&hanks.
J999K
/$out Tim &4Brien- / Pro!ile
$y 7on Lee
&he good news is that &im 6,7rien is writing fiction
again.
2n =>>C, after his sixth book, 7n the $ae of the Woods,
was released, he distressed his many fans by vowing to
stop writing fiction /for the foreseeable future.1 &hen,
a few months later, he published a now famous essay
in The Aew Yor Times Maga+ine thatdescribed his
return to <ietnam. .ith his girlfriend at the time, he
visited +y Lai, where on +arch =E, =>E@, a company of
-merican soldiers massacred an entire village in a
matter of four hoursGwomen, children, old men,
chickens, dogs. &he body count ranged from two to
five hundred.
From =>E>)FD, 6,7rien had been an infantryman in
the Wuang Ngai province, and his platoon had been
stationed in +y Lai a year after the massacre. &hen
and now, he could feel the evil in the place, /the
wickedness that soaks into your blood and heats up
and starts to si$$le.1 2n the Times cover story, 6,7rien
elaborated on the complex associations of love and
insanity that can boil over during a war, almost
inevitably exploding into atrocity. 7ut he went a step
further, drawing parallels between the /guilt,
depression, terror, shame1 that infected both his
<ietnam experience and his present life, especially
now that his girlfriend had left him. (hillingly, he
admitted, /Last night suicide was on my mind. Not
whether, but how.1 &his time, his fans were not the
only ones concerned. Friends and strangers alike
called him4 shrinks to sign him up, clergymen to save
his soul, people who thought he had disclosed way too
much, others who thought he had disclosed too little.
&oday, 6,7rien has no regrets about publishing the
article. 'e considers it one of the best things he has
ever written. /2 reread it maybe once every two
months,1 he says, /*ust to remind myself what
writing,s for. 2 don,t mean catharsis. 2 mean
communication. 2t was a hard thing to do. 2t saved my
life, but it was a fuck of a thing to print.1 -fter taking
nine months off and pulling his life back together,
6,7rien started another novel, intrigued enough by the
first page to write a second, propelled, as always, by
his fundamental faith in the power of storytelling.
7orn in =>CE, 6,7rien was raised in small%town
+innesota, his father an insurance salesman, his
mother an elementary school teacher. -s a child,
6,7rien was lonely, overweight, and a professed
/dreamer,1 and he occupied himself by practicing
magic tricks. For a brief time, he contemplated being a
writer, inspired by some old clippings he,d found of his
father,sGpersonal accounts about fighting in 2wo ima
and 6kinawa that had been published in The Aew
Yor Times during .orld .ar 22. .hen 6,7rien
entered college, however, his aspirations turned
political. 'e was a political science ma*or at
+acalester, attended peace vigils and war protests,
and planned to *oin the "tate 3epartment to reform its
policies. /2 thought we needed people who were
progressive and had the patience to try diplomacy
instead of dropping bombs on people.1
'e never imagined he would be drafted upon
graduation and actually sent to <ietnam. /2 was
walking around in a dream and repressing it all,1 he
says, /thinking something would save my ass. 5ven
getting on the plane for boot camp, 2 couldn,t believe
any of it was happening to me, someone who hated
7oy "couts and bugs and rifles.1 .hen he received his
classificationGnot as a clerk, or a driver, or a cook, but
as an infantrymanGhe seriously considered deserting
to (anada. 'e now thinks it was an act of cowardice
not to, particularly since he was against the war, but in
=>E>, as a twenty%two%year%old, he had feared the
disapproval of his family and friends, his townspeople
and country. 'e went to <ietnam and hated every
minute of it, from beginning to end.
.hen he came back to the "tates, he had a #urple
'eart Ihe was wounded by shrapnel from a hand
grenadeJ and several publishing credits. +uch like his
father, he had written personal reports about the war
that had made their way into +innesota newspapers,
and while pursuing a doctorate at the 'arvard "chool
of 9overnment, 6,7rien expanded on the vignettes to
form a book, 7f 7 3ie in -om*at, Bo; Me C& and #hi&
173
Me 4ome. 'e sent it first to :nopf, whose editors had
high praise for the book. Yet they were already
publishing a book about <ietnam, 3is&atches by
+ichael 'err, and suggested that 6,7rien try the
editor "eymour Lawrence, who was in 7oston. /'e
called me at my dormitory at 'arvard,1 6,7rien
recalls. /'e said, T.ell, we,re taking your book. .hy
don,t you come over, 2,ll take you to lunch., 2t was a
big, drunken lunch at &rader <ic,s in the old "tatler
'ilton, during the course of which we decided to fire
my agent. "am said, TLook, you,re not going to get
much money, there,s no way, might as well fire the
guy. .hy give him ten percent0, /
7f 7 3ie in -om*at was published in =>FK, *ust as
6,7rien was being hired as a national affairs reporter
for The Washington Post, where he,d been an intern
for two summers. /2 didn,t know the first thing about
writing for a newspaper, but 2 learned fast,1 says
6,7rien, who never took a writing workshop. &he *ob
helped tremendously in terms of discipline, which,
6,7rien confesses, was a problem for him until then. /2
learned the virtue of tenacity.1
-fter his one%year stint at the Post, 6,7rien simply
wrote books. 2n =>F?, he published Aorthern $ights,
about two brothersGone a war hero, the other a farm
agent who stayed home in +innesotaGwho struggle to
survive during a cross%country ski trip. 2oing "fter
-acciato came out in =>F@. 2n the novel, an
infantryman named (acciato deserts, deciding to walk
from "outheast -sia to #aris for the peace talks. #aul
7erlin is ordered to capture (acciato, and narrates an
extended meditation on what might have happened if
(acciato had made it all the way to #aris. &he novel
won the National 7ook -ward over ohn 2rving,s The
World "ccording to 2ar& and ohn (heever,s #tories.
The Auclear "ge, about a draft dodger turned
uranium speculator who is obsessed with the threat of
nuclear holocaust, was released in =>@?, and then, in
=>>D, came The Things They -arried, which was a
finalist for both the #ulit$er #ri$e and the National
7ook (ritics (ircle -ward. &he collection of
interrelated stories revolves around the men of -lpha
(ompany, an infantry platoon in <ietnam. &he title
story is a recitation of the soldiers, weapons and gear,
the metaphorical mixing with the mundane4 they
carried +%ED,s and ( rations and (laymores, and /the
common scent of cowardice barely restrained, the
instinct to run or free$e or hide, and in many respects
this was the heaviest burden of all, for it could never
be put down, it re!uired perfect balance and perfect
posture.1 - central motif in the book is the process of
storytelling itself, the way imagination and language
and memory can blur fact, and why /story%truth is
truer sometimes than happening%truth.1
2n his latest novel, 7n the $ae of the Woods, which is
now in paperback, 6,7rien takes this !uestion of how
much we can know about an event or a person one
step further. ohn and :athy .ade are staying at a
secluded lakeside cottage in northern +innesota. 'e
has *ust lost a senatorial election by a landslide, after
the revelation that he was among the soldiers at +y
Lai, a fact he has tried to conceal from everyoneG
including his wife; even, pathologically, himselfGfor
twenty years. - week after their arrival at the lake,
.ade,s wife disappears. #erhaps she drowned,
perhaps she ran away, perhaps .ade murdered her.
&he mystery is never solved, and the lack of a
traditional ending has produced surprisingly vocal
reactions from readers.
/2 get calls from people,1 6,7rien says. &hey ask
!uestions, they offer their own opinions about what
happened, they want to now, missing the point of the
novel, that life often does not offer solutions or
resolutions, that it is impossible to know completely
what secrets lurk within people. -s the anonymous
narrator, who has conducted a four%year investigation
into the case, comments in a footnote4 /2t,s human
nature. .e are fascinated, all of us, by the implacable
otherness of others. -nd we wish to penetrate by
hypothesis, by daydream, by scientific investigation
those leaden walls that encase the human spirit, that
define it and guard it and hold it forever inaccessible.
IT2 love you,, someone says, and instantly we begin to
wonderG,.ell, how much0,Gand when the answer
comesG,.ith my whole heart,Gwe then wonder about
the wholeness of a fickle heart.J 6ur lovers, our
husbands, our wives, our fathers, our godsGthey are
all beyond us.1
6,7rien feels strongly that 7n the $ae of the Woods is
his best book to date, but it took its toll on him. 'e is a
meticulous, some would say fanatical, craftsman. 2n
general, he writes every day, all day. 'e does
practically nothing else. 'e lifts weights, watches
baseball, occasionally plays golf, and reads at night,
but rarely ventures from his two%bedroom apartment
near 'arvard "!uare. 'e,ll eke out the words, then
discard them. 2t took him an entire year to finish nine
pages of The Auclear "ge, although he tossed out
thousands.
-lways, it will begin with an image, /a picture of a
human being doing something.1 .ith 2oing "fter
-acciato, it was the image of a guy walking to #aris4 /2
could see his back.1 .ith The Things They -arried, it
was /remembering all this crap 2 had on me and inside
me, the physical and spiritual burdens.1 .ith 7n the
$ae of the Woods, it was a man and a woman lying on
a porch in the fog along a lake4 /2 didn,t know where
the lake was at the time. 2 knew they were unhappy. 2
could feel the unhappiness in the fog. 2 didn,t know
what the unhappiness was about. 2t re!uired me to
write the next page. - lost election. .hy was the
election lost0 +y Lai. -ll of this was discovered after
two years of writing.1
7ut when 6,7rien finished 7n the $ae of the Woods,
he stopped writing for the first time in over twenty
years. /2 was burned out,1 he says. /&he novel went to
174
the bottom of the well for me. 2 felt emotionally
drained. 2 didn,t see the point of writing anymore.1 2n
retrospect, the respite was good for him. 'e likens the
hiatus to +ichael ordan,s brief leave from basketball4
/'e may not be a better basketball player when he
comes back, but he,s going to be a better person.1
6f course, the road back has not been easy,
particularly with the loss of his editor and good friend,
"am Lawrence, who died in =>>K. /&hrough the ups
and downs of any writer,s career, he was always there,
with a new contract, and optimism. -nother of his
virtues was that he didn,t push. "am didn,t give a shit
if you missed a deadline. 'e wanted a good book, no
matter how long it took.1 For the moment, 6,7rien has
yet to sign up with another publisher for his novel in
progress, which opens with two boys building an
airplane in their backyard. 'e prefers to avoid the
pressure. /+aybe it,s +idwestern,1 he says. /.hen 2
sign a contract, 2 think 2 owe them O dollars of
literature.1
-nd in defiance of some editors and critics, who
suggest he should move on from <ietnam, he will in all
likelihood continue to write about the war. /-ll writers
revisit terrain. "hakespeare did it with kings, and
(onrad did it with the ocean, and Faulkner did it with
the "outh. 2t,s an emotional and geographical terrain
that,s given to us by life. <ietnam is there the way
childhood is for me. &here,s a line from +ichael 'err4
T<ietnam,s what we had instead of happy childhoods.,
- funny, weird line, but there,s some truth in it.1
Yet to categori$e 6,7rien as merely a <ietnam .ar
writer would be ludicrously unfair and simplistic. -ny
close examination of his books reveals there is
something much more universal about them. -s much
as they are war stories, they are also love stories. &hat
is why his readers are as apt to be female as male. /2
think in every book 2,ve written,1 6,7rien says, /2,ve
had the twins of love and evil. &hey intertwine and
intermix. &hey,ll separate, sometimes, yet they,re
hooked the way valances are hooked together. &he
emotions in war and in our ordinary lives are, if not
identical, damn similar.1
Too .m$arrassed 1ot to 0ill
b $obert $& +arris
6nly a handful of novels and short stories have
managed to clarify, in any lasting way, the meaning of
the war in <ietnam for -merica and for the soldiers
who served there. .ith TT&he &hings &hey (arried,,,
&im 6,7rien adds his second title to the short list of
essential fiction about <ietnam. -s he did in his novel
TT9oing -fter (acciato,, I=>F@J, which won a National
7ook -ward, he captures the war,s pulsating rhythms
and nerve%racking dangers. 7ut he goes much further.
7y moving beyond the horror of the fighting to
examine with sensitivity and insight the nature of
courage and fear, by !uestioning the role that
imagination plays in helping to form our memories
and our own versions of truth, he places TT&he &hings
&hey (arried,, high up on the list of best fiction about
any war.
TT&he &hings &hey (arried,, is a collection of
interrelated stories. - few are unremittingly brutal; a
couple are flawed two%page sketches. &he publisher
calls the book TTa work of fiction,,, but in no real sense
can it be considered a novel. No matter. &he stories
cohere. -ll deal with a single platoon, one of whose
members is a character named &im 6,7rien. "ome
stories are about the wartime experiences of this small
group of grunts. 6thers are about a CK%year%old writer
Gagain, the fictional character &im 6,7rienG
remembering his platoon,s experiences and writing
war stories Iand remembering writing storiesJ about
them. &his is the kind of writing about writing that
makes &om .olfe grumble. 2t should not stop you
from savoring a stunning performance. &he overall
effect of these original tales is devastating.
-s might be expected, there is a lot of gore in TT&he
&hings &hey (arried,,Glike the account of the soldier
who ties a friend,s puppy to a (laymore antipersonnel
mine and s!uee$es the firing device. -nd much of the
powerful language cannot be !uoted in a family
newspaper. 7ut let +r. 6,7rien explain why he could
not spare s!ueamish sensibilities4 TT2f you don,t care
for obscenity, you don,t care for the truth; if you don,t
care for the truth, watch how you vote. "end guys to
war, they come home talking dirty.,,
2n the title story, +r. 6,7rien *uxtaposes the mundane
and the deadly items that soldiers carry into battle.
(an openers, pocketknives, wristwatches, mos!uito
repellent, chewing gum, candy, cigarettes, salt tablets,
packets of :ool%-id, matches, sewing kits, ( rations
are TThumped,, by the 9.2.,s along with +%=E assault
rifles, +%ED machine guns, +%F> grenade launchers.
7ut the story is really about the other things the
soldiers TTcarry,,4 TTgrief, terror, love, longing . . .
shameful memories,, and, what unifies all the stories,
TTthe common secret of cowardice.,, &hese young men,
+r. 6,7rien tells us, TTcarried the soldier,s greatest fear,
which was the fear of blushing. +en killed, and died,
because they were embarrassed not to.,,
175
5mbarrassment, the author reveals in TT6n the 8ainy
8iver,,, is why he, or rather the fictional version of
himself, went to <ietnam. 'e almost went to (anada
instead. .hat stopped him, ironically, was fear. TT-ll
those eyes on me,,, he writes, TTand 2 couldn,t risk the
embarrassment. . . . 2 couldn,t endure the mockery, or
the disgrace, or the patriotic ridicule. . . . 2 was a
coward. 2 went to the war.,,
"o *ust what is courage0 .hat is cowardice0 +r.
6,7rien spends much of the book carefully dissecting
every nuance of the two !ualities. 2n several stories, he
writes movingly of the death of :iowa, the best%loved
member of the platoon. 2n TT"peaking of (ourage,,, +r.
6,7rien tells us about Norman 7owker, the platoon
member who blames his own failure of nerve for
:iowa,s death. 7owker TThad been braver than he ever
thought possible, but . . . he had not been so brave as
he wanted to be.,, 2n the following story, TTNotes,,
Iliterally notes on the writing of TT"peaking of
(ourage,,J, +r. 6,7rien,s fictional alter ego informs the
reader that 7owker committed suicide after coming
home from the war. &his author also admits that he
made up the part about the failure of nerve that
haunted 7owker. 7ut it,s all made up, of course. -nd
in TT&he +an 2 :illed,,, +r. 6,7rien imagines the life of
an enemy soldier at whom the character &im 6,7rien
tossed a grenade, only to confess later that it wasn,t
TT&im 6,7rien,, who killed the <ietnamese.
-re these simply tricks in the service of making good
stories0 'ardly. +r. 6,7rien strives to get beyond
literal descriptions of what these men went through
and what they felt. 'e makes sense of the unreality of
the warGmakes sense of why he has distorted that
unreality even further in his fictionGby turning back
to explore the workings of the imagination, by probing
his memory of the terror and fearlessly confronting the
way he has dealt with it as both soldier and fiction
writer. 2n doing all this, he not only crystalli$es the
<ietnam experience for us, he exposes the nature of all
war stories.
&he character &im 6,7rien,s daughter asks him why he
continues to be obsessed by the <ietnam .ar and with
writing about it. TT7y telling stories,,, he says, TTyou
ob*ectify your own experience. You separate it from
yourself. You pin down certain truths.,, 2n TT9ood
Form,,, he writes4 TT2 can look at things 2 never looked
at. 2 can attach faces to grief and love and pity and
9od. 2 can be brave. 2 can make myself feel again.,, You
come away from this book understanding why there
have been so many novels about the <ietnam .ar,
why so many of +r. 6,7rien,s fellow soldiers have
turned to narrativeGreal and imaginedGto purge their
memories, to appease the ghosts.
2s it fair to readers for +r. 6,7rien to have blurred his
own identity as storyteller%soldier in these stories0 TT-
true war story is never moral,,, he writes in TT'ow to
&ell a &rue .ar "tory.,, TT2t does not instruct, nor
encourage virtue, nor suggest models of proper human
behavior, nor restrain men from doing the things men
have always done. 2f a story seems moral, do not
believe it. 2f at the end of a war story you feel uplifted,
or if you feel that some small bit of rectitude has been
salvaged from the larger waste, then you have been
made the victim of a very old and terrible lie. &here is
no rectitude whatsoever. &here is no virtue. -s a first
rule of thumb, therefore, you can tell a true war story
by its absolute and uncompromising allegiance to
obscenity and evil.,, +r. 6,7rien cuts to the heart of
writing about war. -nd by sub*ecting his memory and
imagination to such harsh scrutiny, he seems to have
reached a reconciliation, to have made his peaceGor to
have made up his peace.
Ro*ert R. 4arris is an editor of &he 7ook 8eview.
The "ietnam in Me
$y Tim &4Brien
LP Mlanding $one, 8.-.N 9-&68, <25&N-+,
F578U-8Y =>>CG2,m home, but the house is gone.
Not a sandbag, not a nail or a scrap of wire.
6n 9ator, we used to say, the wind doesn,t blow,
it sucks. +aybe that,s what happenedGthe wind
sucked it all away. +y life, my virtue.
2n February =>E>, H? years ago, 2 arrived as a
young, terrified pfc. on this lonely little hill in Wuang
Ngai #rovince. 7ack then, the place seemed huge and
imposing and permanent. - forward firebase for the
Fifth 7attalion of the CEth 2nfantry, =>@th 2nfantry
7rigade, LP 9ator was home to FDD or @DD -merican
soldiers, mostly grunts. 2 remember a tar helipad, a
mess hall, a medical station, mortar and artillery
emplacements, two volleyball courts, numerous
barracks and offices and supply depots and machine
shops and entertainment clubs. 9ator was our castle.
Not safe, exactly, but far preferable to the bush. No
land mines here. No paddies bubbling with machine%
gun fire.
+aybe once a month, for three or four days at a
time, -lpha (ompany would return to 9ator for stand%
down, where we took our comforts behind a perimeter
176
of bunkers and concertina wire. &here were hot
showers and hot meals, ice chests packed with beer,
glossy pinup girls, big, black "ony tape decks booming
/.e gotta get out of this place1 at decibels for the deaf.
&hirty or CD acres of almost%-merica. .ith a little
weed and a lot of beer, we would spend the days of
stand%down in flat%out celebration, purely alive, taking
pleasure in our own biology, kidneys and livers and
lungs and legs, all in their proper alignments. .e
could breathe here. .e could feel our fists uncurl, the
pressures approaching normal. &he real war, it
seemed, was in another solar system. 7y day, we,d fill
sandbags or pull bunker guard. 2n the evenings, there
were outdoor movies and sometimes live floor showsG
pretty :orean girls breaking our hearts in their
spangled miniskirts and high leather bootsGthen
afterward we,d troop back to the -lpha barracks for
some letter writing or boo$ing or *ust a good night,s
sleep.
"o much to remember. &he time we filled a nasty
lieutenant,s canteen with mos!uito repellent; the
sounds of choppers and artillery fire; the slow dread
that began building as word spread that in a day or
two we,d be heading back to the bush. #inkville,
maybe. &he 7atangan #eninsula. "pooky, evil places
where the land itself could kill you.
Now 2 stand in this patch of weeds, looking down
on what used to be the old -lpha barracks. -ma$ing,
really, what time can do. You,d think there would be
something left, some faint imprint, but LP ILanding
PoneJ 9ator has been utterly and forever erased from
the earth. Nothing here but ghosts and wind.
-t the foot of 9ator, along 'ighway =, the little
hamlet of Nuoc +an is going bonkers over our arrival
here. -s we turn and walk down the hill, maybe HDD
people trail along, gawking and chattering, the
children reaching out to touch our skin. &hrough our
interpreter, +rs. Le 'oai #huong, 2,m told that 2 am
the first -merican soldier to return to this place in the
HC years since 9ator was evacuated in =>FD. 2n a
strange way, the occasion has the feel of a reunionG
happy faces, much bowing. /+e .endy,1 says a
middle%aged woman. -nother says, /Flower.1 .endy
and Flower4 9.2. nicknames retrieved from a !uarter%
century ago.
-n elderly woman, perhaps in her late FD,s, tugs
at my shirt and says, /+y name +ama%san.1
3ear 9od. .e should,ve bombed these people
with love.
(-+782395, +-""., UN5 =>>CGLast night
suicide was on my mind. Not whether, but how.
&onight it will be on my mind again. Now it,s C -.+.,
une the ?th. &he sleeping pills have not worked. 2 sit
in my underwear at this unblinking fool of a computer
and try to wrap words around a few horrid truths.
2 returned to <ietnam with a woman whose name
is :ate, whom 2 adored and have since lost. "he,s with
another man, seven blocks away. &his 2 learned
yesterday afternoon. +y own fault, :ate would say,
and she would be mostly right. Not entirely. 2n any
case, these thoughts are probably too intimate, too
awkward and embarrassing for public discussion. 7ut
who knows0 +aybe a little blunt human truth will
send you off to church, or to confession, or inside
yourself.
Not that it matters. For me, with one eye on these
smooth yellow pills, the world must be written about
as it is or not written about at all.
P 9-&68, F578U-8Y =>>CG7y chance, :ate
and 2 have arrived in Nuoc +an on a day of annual
commemoration, a day when the graves of the local
war dead are blessed and repaired and decorated and
wept over.
&he village elders invite us to a feast, a picnic of
sorts, where we take seats before a low lac!uered table
at an outdoor shrine. (hildren press up close, all
around. &he elders shoo them away, but the shooing
doesn,t do much. 2,m getting nervous. &he food on
display seems a bit exotic. Not to my taste. 2 look at
:ate, :ate looks at me. /Number one chop%chop,1 an
old woman says, a wrinkled, gorgeous, protective,
scarred, welcoming old woman. /Number one,1 she
promises, and nudges :ate, and smiles a
heartbreaking betel%nut smile.
2 choose something white. Fish, 2,m guessing. 2
have eaten herring; 2 have en*oyed herring. &his is not
herring.
&here are decisions to be made.
&he elders bow and execute chewing motions. 3o
not forget4 our hosts are among the maimed and
widowed and orphaned, the bombed and rebombed,
the recipients of white phosphorus, the tenders of
graves. (hew, they say, and by 9od 2 chew.
:ate has the good fortune to find a :leenex. "he,s
a pro. "he executes a polite wiping motion and it,s over
for her. 5ddie :eating, the &imes photographer whose
pictures accompany this text, tucks his portion
between cheek and gum, where it remains until the
feast concludes. +eG2 imagine herring. 2 remember
"unday afternoons as a boy, the <ikings on &<, my dad
opening up the crackers and creamed herring, passing
it out at halftime. 6ther flashes too. LP 9ator,s mortar
rounds pounding this innocent, impoverished, raped
little village. 5ight or nine corpses piled not ?D yards
from where we now sit in friendly union. 2 prepare
myself. Foul, for sure, but things come around. Nuoc
+an swallowed plenty.
&'5 "6N9 &8- '6&5L, WU-N9 N9-2 (2&Y,
F578U-8Y =>>CG2t,s late in the evening. &he air%
conditioner is at full (uban power. :ate,s eyes sparkle,
she,s laughing. /"wallowedL1 she keeps saying.
2n =>E>, when 2 went to war, :ate was K years
old. :ennedy, ohnson, Nixon, +cNamara, 7unker,
8ogers, 7undy, 8usk, -brams, 8ostowGfor her, these
names are like the listings on a foreign menu. "ome
she recogni$es not at all, some she recalls from books
or old television clips. 7ut she never tasted the dishes.
"he does not know ice cream from 7russels sprouts.
&hree years oldGhow could she0 No more than 2 could
know the "outhern (alifornia of her own youth.
"till, it was :ate who insisted we come here. 2
was more than reluctantG2 was petrified, 2 looked for
excuses. 7ad dreams and so on. 7ut :ate,s enthusiasm
177
won me over; she wanted to share in my past, the
shapes of things, the smells and sunlight.
-s it turns out, the sharing has gone both ways.
2n any other circumstances, 2 would have returned to
this country almost purely as a veteran, caught up in
memory, but :ate,s presence has made me pay
attention to the details of here and now, a <ietnam
that exists outside the old perimeter of war. "he takes
delight in things alive4 a chicken wired to someone,s
bicycle, an old woman,s enormous fingernails, an
infant slung casually on the hip of a tiny F%year%old
girl. :ate has the eyes and spirit of an adventurer,
wide open to the variety of the world, and these
!ualities have pushed me toward some modest
adventurism of my own.
Now 2 watch her fiddle with the air%conditioner.
/"wallowedL1 she keeps saying.
Later in the night, as on many other nights, we
talk about the war. 2 try to explainGineptly, no doubtG
that <ietnam was more than terror. For me, at least,
<ietnam was partly love. .ith each step, each light%
year of a second, a foot soldier is always almost dead,
or so it feels, and in such circumstances you can,t help
but love. You love your mom and dad, the <ikings,
hamburgers on the grill, your pulse, your futureG
everything that might be lost or never come to be.
2ntimacy with death carries with it a corresponding
new intimacy with life. okes are funnier, green is
greener. You love the musty morning air. You love the
miracle of your own enduring capacity for love. You
love your friends in -lpha (ompanyGa kid named
(hip, my buddy. 'e wrote letters to my sister, 2 wrote
letters to his sister. 2n the rear, back at 9ator, (hip and
2 would go our separate ways, by color, both of us
ashamed but knowing it had to be that way. 2n the
bush, though, nothing kept us apart. /7lack and
.hite,1 we were called. 2n +ay of =>E>, (hip was
blown high into a hedge of bamboo. +any pieces. 2
loved the guy, he loved me. 2,m alive. 'e,s dead. -n old
story, 2 guess.
(-+782395, UN5 =>>CG2t,s ?4H? in the
morning, une F. 2 have *ust taken my first drug of the
day, a prescription drug, 6xa$epam, which files the
edge off anxiety. &hing is, 2,m not anxious. 2,m slop.
&his is despair. &his is a valance of horror that
<ietnam never approximated. 2f war is hell, what do
we call hopelessness0
2 have not killed myself. &hat day, this day,
maybe tomorrow. Like Nam, it goes.
For some time, years in fact, 2 have been treated
for depression, \@,DDD or \>,DDD worth. "ome of it
has worked. 6r was working. 2 had called back to
memoryGnot to memory, exactly, but to significanceG
some pretty painful feelings of re*ection as a child.
(hubby and friendless and lonely. 2 had come to
acknowledge, more or less, the dominant principle of
love in my life, how far 2 would go to get it, how
terrified 2 was of losing it. 2 have done bad things for
love, bad things to stay loved. :ate is one case.
<ietnam is another. +ore than anything, it was this
desperate love craving that propelled me into a war 2
considered mistaken, probably evil. 2n college, 2 stood
in peace vigils. 2 rang doorbells for 9ene +c(arthy,
composed earnest editorials for the school newspaper.
7ut when the draft notice arrived after graduation, the
old demons went to work almost instantly. 2 thought
about (anada. 2 thought about *ail. 7ut in the end 2
could not bear the prospect of re*ection4 by my family,
my country, my friends, my hometown. 2 would risk
conscience and rectitude before risking the loss of
love.
2 have written some of this before, but 2 must
write it again. 2 was a coward. 2 went to <ietnam.
+Y L-2, WU-N9 N9-2 #86<2N(5, F578U-8Y
=>>CG.eird, but 2 know this place. 2,ve been here
before. Literally, but also in my nightmares.
6ne year after the massacre, -lpha (ompany,s
area of operations included the village of +y Lai C, or
so it was called on -merican military maps. &he
<ietnamese call it &huan Yen, which belongs to a
larger hamlet called &u (ung, which in turn belongs to
an even larger parent village called "on +y. 7ut names
are finally irrelevant. 2 am *ust here.
&wenty%five years ago, knowing nothing of the
homicides committed by -merican troops on the
morning of +arch =E, =>E@, -lpha (ompany walked
through and around this hamlet on numerous
occasions. Now, standing here with :ate, 2 can,t
recogni$e much. &he place blends in with all the other
poor, scary, beleaguered villes in this area we called
#inkville. 5ven so, the feel of the place is as familiar as
the old stucco house of my childhood. &he clay trails,
the cow dung, the blank faces, the unknowns and
unknowables. &here is the smell of sin here. "mells of
terror, too, and enduring sorrow.
.hat happened, briefly, was this. -t
approximately F4KD on the morning of +arch =E, =>E@,
a company of roughly ==? -merican soldiers were
inserted by helicopter *ust outside the village of +y
Lai. &hey met no resistance. No enemy. No incoming
fire. "till, for the next four hours, (harlie (ompany
killed whatever could be killed. &hey killed chickens.
&hey killed dogs and cattle. &hey killed people, too.
Lots of people. .omen, infants, teen%agers, old men.
&he United "tates -rmy,s (riminal 2nvestigation
3ivision compiled a list of KCK fatalities and an
independent -rmy in!uiry led by Lieut. 9en. .illiam
8. #eers estimated that the death count may have
exceeded CDD. -t the "on +y +emorial, a large tablet
lists ?DC names. -ccording to (ol. .illiam .ilson,
one of the original -rmy investigators, /&he crimes
visited on the inhabitants of "on +y <illage included
individual and group acts of murder, rape, sodomy,
maiming, assault on noncombatants and the
mistreatment and killing of detainees.1
&he testimony of one member of (harlie
(ompany, "alvadore La+artina, suggests the
systematic, cold%blooded character of the slaughter4
W4 3id you obey your orders0
-4 Yes, sir.
W4 .hat were your orders0
-4 :ill anything that breathed.
.hether or not such instructions were ever
directly issued is a matter of dispute. 5ither way, a
17*
good many participants would later offer the
explanation that they were obeying orders, a defense
explicitly prohibited by the Nuremberg #rinciples and
the United "tates -rmy,s own rules of war. 6ther
participants would argue that the civilians at +y Lai
were themselves <ietcong. - young soldier named
#aul +eadlo, who was responsible for numerous
deaths on that bright +arch morning, offered this
appalling testimony4
W4 .hat did you do0
-4 2 held my +%=E on them.
W4 .hy0
-4 7ecause they might attack.
W4 &hey were children and babies0
-4 Yes.
W4 -nd they might attack0 (hildren and babies0
-4 &hey might,ve had a fully loaded grenade on
them. &he mothers might have throwed them at us.
W4 7abies0
-4 Yes. . . .
W4 .ere the babies in their mothers, arms0
-4 2 guess so.
W4 -nd the babies moved to attack0
-4 2 expected at any moment they were about to
make a counterbalance.
5ventually, after a cover%up that lasted more than
a year and after the massacre made nationwide
headlines, the -rmy,s (riminal 2nvestigation 3ivision
produced sufficient evidence to charge KD men with
war crimes. 6f these, only a single soldier, First Lieut.
.illiam Laws (alley r., was ever convicted or spent
time in prison. Found guilty of the premeditated
murder of /not less than1 HH civilians, (alley was
sentenced to life at hard labor, but after legal appeals
and sentence reductions, his ultimate *ail time
amounted to three days in a stockade and four and a
half months in prison.
2n some cases, *udicial action was never initiated;
in other cases, charges were !uietly dropped. (alley
aside, only a handful of men faced formal court%
martial proceedings, either for war crimes or for
subse!uent cover%up activities, with the end result of
five ac!uittals and four *udicially ordered dismissals.
-mong those ac!uitted was (apt. 5rnest +edina, who
commanded (harlie (ompany on the morning of
+arch =E, =>E@.
-ll this is history. 3ead as those dead women and
kids. 5ven at the time, most -mericans seemed to
shrug it off as a cruel, nasty, inevitable conse!uence of
war. &here were numerous excuses, numerous
rationali$ations. Upright citi$ens decried even the
small bit of *ustice secured by the conviction of
Lieutenant (alley. Now, more than H? years later, the
villainy of that "aturday morning in =>E@ has been
pushed off to the margins of memory. 2n the colleges
and high schools 2 sometimes visit, the mention of +y
Lai brings on null stares, a sort of pu$$lement,
disbelief mixed with utter ignorance.
5vil has no place, it seems, in our national
mythology. .e erase it. .e use ellipses. .e salute
ourselves and take pride in -merica the .hite :night,
-merica the Lone 8anger, -merica,s sleek laser%
guided weaponry beating up on "addam and his legion
of devils.
2t,s beginning to rain when :ate and 2 sit down to
talk with two survivors of the slaughter here. +rs. 'a
&hi Wuy is a woman of E> years. 'er face is part stone,
part anguish as she describes through an interpreter
the events of that day. 2t,s hard stuff to hear.
/-mericans came here twice before,1 +rs. Wuy says.
/Nothing bad happened, they were friendly to us. 7ut
on that day the soldiers *umped out of their helicopters
and immediately began to shoot. 2 prayed, 2 pleaded.1
-s 2 take notes, 2,m recalling other prayers, other
pleadings. - woman saying /No <(, no <(,1 while a
young lieutenant pistol%whipped her without the least
expression on his face, without the least sign of
distress or moral uncertainty. +ad +ark, we called
him. 7ut he wasn,t mad. 'e was numb. 'e,d lost
himself. 'is gyroscope was gone. 'e didn,t know up
from down, good from bad.
+rs. Wuy is crying now. 2 can feel :ate crying off
to my side, though 2 don,t dare look.
/&he -mericans took us to a ditch. 2 saw two
soldiers with red facesGsunburnedGand they pushed
a lot of people into the ditch. 2 was in the ditch. 2 fell
down and many fell on top of me. "oldiers were
shooting. 2 was shot in the hip. &he firing went on and
on. 2t would stop and then start again and then stop.1
Now 2 hear :ate crying, not loud, *ust a certain
breathiness 2,ve come to recogni$e. &his will be with us
forever. &his we,ll have.
+y notes take a turn for the worse. /2 lay under
the dead in the ditch. -round noon, when 2 heard no
more gunfire, 2 came out of the ditch and saw many
more. 7rains, pieces of body. +y house was burned.
(attle were shot. 2 went back to the ditch. &hree of my
four children were killed.1
2,m exhausted when +rs. Wuy finishes. #artly it,s
the sheer magnitude of horror, partly some hateful
memories of my own.
2 can barely wire myself together as +rs. &ruong
&hi Le, another survivor, recounts those four hours of
murder. 6ut of her family of =D, > died that day. /2 fell
down,1 +rs. Le tells us. /7ut 2 was not shot. 2 lay with
three other bodies on me, all blood. 3id not move at
all. #retended dead. "aw newborn baby near a woman.
.oman died. 2nfant still alive. "oldiers came up. "hot
baby.1
6utside, the rain has let up. :ate, 5ddie and 2
take a walk through the hamlet. .e stare at
foundations where houses used to stand. .e admire a
harsh, angular, defiant, beautiful piece of sculpture, a
monument to the murdered.
+rs. Wuy accompanies us for a while. "he,s
smiling, accommodating. 2mpossible, but she seems to
like us.
-t one point, while 2,m scribbling in my
notebook, she pulls down her trousers. "he shows :ate
the scarred%over bullet hole in her hip.
:ate nods and makes sounds of sympathy. .hat
does one say0 7ad day. .orld of hurt.
ow the rain is back, much harder. 2,m drenched,
cold and something else. 5ddie and 2 stand at the ditch
17+
where maybe ?D, maybe @D, maybe =DD innocent
human beings perished. 2 watch 5ddie snap his
pictures.
'ere,s the something else4 2,ve got the guilt chills.
Years ago, ignorant of the massacre, 2 hated this
place, and places much like it. &wo miles away, in an
almost identical hamlet, (hip was blown into his
hedge of bamboo. - mile or so east, 8oy -rnold was
shot dead, 2 was slightly wounded. - little farther east,
a kid named +c5lhaney died. ust north of here, on a
rocky hillside, another kid, named "locum, lost his
foot to a land mine. 2t goes on.
2 despised everythingGthe soil, the tunnels, the
paddies, the poverty and myself. 5ach step was an act
of the purest self%hatred and self%betrayal, yet, in
truth, because truth matters, my sympathies were
rarely with the <ietnamese. 2 was mostly terrified. 2
was lamenting in advance my own pitiful demise. -fter
fire fights, after friends died, there was also a great
deal of angerGblack, fierce, hurting angerGthe kind
you want to take out on whatever presents itself. &his
is not to *ustify what occurred here. ustifications are
empty and outrageous. 8ather, it,s to say that 2 more
or less understand what happened on that day in
+arch =>E@, how it happened, the wickedness that
soaks into your blood and heats up and starts to si$$le.
2 know the boil that precedes butchery. -t the same
time, however, the men in -lpha (ompany did not
commit murder. .e did not turn our machine guns on
civilians; we did not cross that conspicuous line
between rage and homicide. 2 know what occurred
here, yes, but 2 also feel betrayed by a nation that so
widely shrugs off barbarity, by a military *udicial
system that treats murderers and common soldiers as
one and the same. -pparently we,re all innocentG
those who exercise moral restraint and those who do
not, officers who control their troops and officers who
do not. 2n a way, -merica has declared itself innocent.
2 look away for a time, and then look back.
7y most standards, this is not much of a ditch. -
few feet deep, a few feet wide. &he rain makes the
greenish brown water bubble like a thousand tiny
mouths.
&he guilt has turned to a gray, heavy sadness. 2
have to take my leave but don,t know how.
-fter a time, :ate walks up, hooks my arm,
doesn,t say anything, doesn,t have to, leads me into a
future that 2 know will hold misery for both of us.
3ifferent hemispheres, different scales of atrocity. 2
don,t want it to happen. 2 want to tell her things and
be understood and live happily ever after. 2 want a
miracle. &hat,s the final emotion. &he terror at this
ditch, the certain doom, the need for 9od,s
intervention.
(-+782395, UN5 =>>CG2,ve been trying to
perform good deeds. 2 bought a Father,s 3ay card
three days early. 2 made appointments for a physical
exam, dental work, a smoke%ender,s program. 2 go for
walks every day. 2 work out, draw up lists, call friends,
visit lawyers, buy furniture, discharge promises, keep
my eyes off the sleeping pills. &he days are all right.
Now the clock shows K4?? -.+. 2 call N58<6U"
and listen to an automated female voice confirm it.
&he nights are not all right.
2 write these few words, which seem useless, then
get up and pull out an album of photographs from the
<ietnam trip. &he album was :ate,s parting gift. 6n
the cover she inserted a snapshot that,s hard to look at
but harder still to avoid. .e stand on (hina 7each
near 3anang. "ide by side, happy as happy will ever
be, our fingers laced in a fitted, comfortable, half%
conscious way that makes me feel a gust of hope. 2t,s a
gust, though, here and gone.
Numerous times over the past several days, at
least a do$en, this piece has come close to hyperspace.
&wice it lay at the bottom of a wastebasket. 2,ve spent
my hours preparing a tape of songs for :ate, stuff that
once meant things. (orny songs, some of them. 'appy
songs, love%me songs.
&oday, scared stiff, 2 deposited the tape on her
doorstep. -nother gust of hope, then a whole lot of
stillness.
&'5 "6N9 &8- '6&5L, WU-N9 N9-2 (2&Y,
F578U-8Y =>>CG:ate,s in the shower, 2,m in history.
2 sit with a book propped up against the air%
conditioner, underlining sentences, sweating out my
own ignorance. &wenty%five years ago, like most other
grunts in -lpha (ompany, 2 knew next to nothing
about this placeG<ietnam in general, Wuang Ngai in
particular. Now 2,m learning. 2n the years preceding
the murders at +y Lai, more than FD percent of the
villages in this province had been destroyed by air
strikes, artillery fire, Pippo lighters, napalm, white
phosphorus, bulldo$ers, gunships and other such
means. 8oughly CD percent of the population had lived
in refugee camps, while civilian casualties in the area
were approaching ?D,DDD a year. &hese numbers,
reported by the *ournalist onathan "chell in =>EF,
were later confirmed as substantially correct by
9overnment investigators. Not that 2 need
confirmation. 7ack in =>E>, the wreckage was all
around us, so common it seemed part of the
geography, as natural as any mountain or river.
.reckage was the rule. 7rutality was ".6.#. "calded
children, pistol%whipped women, burning hootches,
free%fire $ones, body counts, indiscriminate bombing
and harassment fire, villages in ash, +%ED machine
guns hosing down dark green tree lines and any
human life behind them.
2n a war without aim, you tend not to aim. You
close your eyes, close your heart. &he conse!uences
become hit or miss in the most literal sense.
.ith so few military targets, with an enemy that
was both of and among the population, -lpha
(ompany began to regard Wuang Ngai itself as the true
enemyGthe physical place, the soil and paddies. .hat
had started for us as a weird, vicious little war soon
evolved into something far beyond vicious, a hopped%
up killer strain of nihilism, waste without want,
aimlessness of deed mixed with aimlessness of spirit.
-s "chell wrote after the events at +y Lai, /&here can
be no doubt that such an atrocity was possible only
because a number of other methods of killing civilians
1*,
and destroying their villages had come to be the rule,
and not the exception, in our conduct of the war.1
2 look up from my book briefly, listen to :ate
singing in the shower. - doctoral candidate at 'arvard
University, smart and sophisticated, but she,s also
fluent in *oy, attuned to the pleasures and beauty of
the world. "he knows the lyrics to /'otel (alifornia,1
start to finish, while here at the air%conditioner 2 can
barely pick out the simplest melodies of <ietnam, the
most basic chords of history. 2t,s as if 2 never heard the
song, as if 2,d gone to war in some mall or
supermarket. 2 discover that Wuang Ngai #rovince was
home to one of <ietnam,s fiercest, most recalcitrant,
most $ealous revolutionary movements. 2ndependent
by tradition, hardened by poverty and rural isolation,
the people of Wuang Ngai were openly resistant to
French colonialism as far back as the =>th century and
were among the first to rebel against France in the
=>KD,s. &he province remained wholly under <ietminh
control throughout the war against France; it
remained under <ietcong control, at least by night,
throughout the years of war against -merica. 5ven
now, in the urbane circles of 'anoi and 'o (hi +inh
(ity, the people of Wuang Ngai are regarded as a clan
of stubborn country bumpkins, coarse and insular,
willfully independent, sometimes defiant of the very
9overnment they had struggled to install.
/Like a different country,1 our interpreter told us
after a long, frustrating session with representatives of
the Wuang Ngai #eople,s (ommittee. /&hese people 2
don,t like much, very crude, very difficult. 2 think you
had horrible bad luck to fight them.1
-t noon, by appointment, a <ietnamese
*ournalist named #ham <an 3uong knocks on our
door. 2t,s a secret meeting of sorts. Nothing illegalGa
couple of writers, a couple of beersGbut 2,ve still got
the bu$$ of some low%level paranoia. 5arlier in the day,
our *oint re!uest for this interview had been denied by
a stern, rather enigmatic functionary of the #eople,s
(ommittee. 2mpossible, we were told. Not on the
schedule. &he official offered little sympathy for our
interpreter,s reminder that schedules are man%made,
that blocks of time appeared wide open. Logic went
nowhere. 7ureaucratic scowls, stare%into%space
silence. - few minutes later, *ust outside the provincial
offices, we !uietly huddled to make our own
unsanctioned arrangements.
Now, as +r. 3uong sits down and accepts a beer,
2,m feeling the vigilant, slightly illicit anxiety of a
midday drug buy. :ate locks the door; 2 close the
drapes. 8idiculous, or almost ridiculous, but for the
first =D minutes 2 sit picturing prison food, listening
for footsteps in the hallway. 6ur interpreter explains
to +r. 3uong that 2 will happily guard his identity in
any written account of this conversation.
+r. 3uong snorts at the suggestion. /6nly a
problem in Wuang Ngai,1 he says. /6fficials in 'anoi
would be glad for our talking. &hey wish good relations
with -mericaGgood, new things to happen. +aybe 2
get a medal. "ell the medal, buy +arlboros.1
.e click beer bottles. For the next two hours we
chat about books, careers, memories of war. 2 ask
about +y Lai. +r. 3uong looks at the wall. &here is a
short hesitationGthe hesitation of tact, 2 suppose. 'e
was @ years old when news of the massacre reached his
village nearby. 'e recalls great anger among his
relatives and friends, disgust and sadness, but no
feelings of shock or surprise. /&his kind of news came
often,1 he says. /.e did not then know the scale of the
massacre, *ust that -mericans had been killing people.
7ut killing was everywhere.1
&wo years later, +r. 3uong,s brother *oined the
C@th <ietcong 7attalion. 'e was killed in =>FH.
/+y mother fainted when she heard this. "he was
told that his body had been buried in a mass grave
with seven comrades who died in the same attack. &his
made it much worse for my motherGno good burial.
-fter liberation in =>F?, she began to look for my
brother,s remains. "he found the mass grave HD
kilometers south of Wuang Ngai (ity. "he wished to
dig, to rebury my brother, but people told her no, don,t
dig, and in the beginning she seemed to accept this.
&hen the -mericans returned to search for their own
missing, and my mother became very angry. .hy
them0 Not me0 "o she insisted we dig. .e found
bones, of course, many bones mixed together, but how
could we recogni$e my brother0 'ow could anyone
know0 7ut we took away some bones in a box.
8eburied them near our house. 5very day now, my
mother passes by this grave. "he feels better, 2 think.
7etter at least to tell herself maybe.1
:ate looks up at me. "he,s silent, but she knows
what 2,m thinking. -t this instant, a few blocks away,
an -merican +.2.-. search team is head!uartered at
the Wuang Ngai 9overnment guesthouse. .ith
<ietnamese assistance, this team and others like it are
engaged in precisely the work of +r. 3uong,s mother,
digging holes, picking through bones, seeking the
couple thousand -mericans still listed as missing.
.hich is splendid.
-nd which is also utterly one%sided. - perverse
and outrageous double standard.
.hat if things were reversed0 .hat if the
<ietnamese were to ask us, or to re!uire us, to locate
and identify each of their own +.2.-.,s0 Numbers
alone make it impossible4 =DD,DDD is a conservative
estimate. +aybe double that. +aybe triple. From my
own sliver of experienceGone year at war, one set of
eyesG2 can testify to the lasting anonymity of a great
many <ietnamese dead. 2 watched napalm turn
villages into ovens. 2 watched burials by bulldo$er. 2
watched bodies being flung into trucks, dumped into
wells, used for target practice, stacked up and burned
like cordwood.
5ven in the abstract, 2 get angry at the stunning,
almost cartoonish narcissism of -merican policy on
this issue. 2 get angrier yet at the narcissism of an
-merican public that embraces and breathes life into
the policyGso arrogant, so ignorant, so self%righteous,
so wanting in the most fundamental !ualities of
sympathy and fairness and mutuality. "ome of this 2
express aloud to +r. 3uong, who nods without
comment. .e finish off our beers. Neither of us can
find much to say. +aybe we,re both back in history,
1*1
snagged in brothers and bones. 2 feel hollow. "o little
has changed, it seems, and so much will always be
missing.
(-+782395, UN5 =>>CGune ==, 2 thinkG2,m
too tired to find a calendar. -lmost ? -.+. 2n another
hour it,ll be ?4D=. 2,m on war time, which is the time
we,re all on at one point or another4 when fathers die,
when husbands ask for divorce, when women you love
are fast asleep beside men you wish were you.
&he tape of songs did nothing. 5verything will
always do nothing.
:ate hurts, too, 2,m sure, and did not want it this
way. 2 didn,t want it either. 5ven so, both of us have to
live in these slow%motion droplets of now, doing what
we do, choosing what we choose, and in different ways
both of us are now responsible for the casualty rotting
in the space between us.
2f there,s a lesson in this, which there is not, it,s
very simple. You don,t have to be in Nam to be in
Nam.
&'5 7-&-N9-N #5N2N"UL-, WU-N9 N9-2
#86<2N(5, F578U-8Y =>>CG&he 9raveyard, we
called it. Littered with land mines, almost completely
defoliated, this spit of land *utting eastward into the
"outh (hina "ea was a place -lpha (ompany feared
the way others might fear snakes, or the dark, or the
bogyman. .e lost at least three men here; 2 couldn,t
begin to count the arms and legs.
&oday our little caravan is accompanied by +r.
Ngu 3uc &an, who knows this place intimately, a
former captain in the C@th <ietcong 7attalion. 2t was
the C@th that -lpha (ompany chased from village to
village, paddy to paddy, during my entire tour in
<ietnam. (hased but never found. &hey found us4
ambushes, sniper fire, nighttime mortar attacks.
&hrough our interpreter, who passes along
commodious paragraphs in crisp little packets, +r.
&an speaks genially of military tactics while we make
the bumpy ride out toward the 7atangan. /U.". troops
not hard to see, not hard to fight,1 he says. /+uch
noise, much e!uipment. 7ig columns. Nice green
uniforms.1 "itting ducks, in other words, though +r.
&an is too polite to express it this way. 'e explains
that the United "tates -rmy was never a primary
target. /.e went after "aigon puppet troops, what you
called -8<N. 2f we beat them, everything collapse, the
U.". would have nothing more to fight for. You
brought many soldiers, helicopters, bombs, but we
chose not to fight you, except sometimes. -merica was
not the main ob*ective.1
9od help us, 2,m thinking, if we had been. -ll
those casualties. -ll that blood and terror. 5ven at this
moment, more than half a lifetime later, 2 remember
the feel of a bull,s%eye pinned to my shirt, a prickly,
when%will%it%happen sensation, as if 2 alone had been
the main ob*ective.
+eanwhile, :ate is taking her own notes, now
and then asking !uestions through the interpreter.
"he,s better than 2 am at human dynamics, more fluid
and spontaneous, and after a time she gets +r. &an to
display a few war scarsGarms, legs, hands, cheek,
chest, skull. "ixteen wounds altogether. &he -merican
war, he says, was *ust one phase in his career as a
soldier, which began in =>E= and encompassed combat
against the "outh <ietnamese, :hmer 8ouge and
(hinese.
&alk about bad dreams. 6ne year gave me more
than enough to fill up the nights.
+y goal on the 7atangan peninsula is to show
:ate one of the prettiest spots on earth. 2,m looking for
a lagoon, a little fishing village, an impossibly white
beach along the "outh (hina "ea.
First, though, +r. &an attends to his own agenda.
.e park the van in one of the inland hamlets, walk
without invitation into a small house, sit down for
lunch with a man named <o <an 7a. 2nstantly, 2,m
thinking herring. :ate and 5ddie have the sense to
decline, to tap their stomachs and say things like /Full,
full, thanks, thanks.1 (ans are opened. &he house fills
up with children, nephews, nieces, babies, cousins,
neighbors. &here are flies, too. +any, many flies. +any
thousand.
+r. &an and +r. 7a eat lunch with their fingers,
fast and hungry, chatting amiably while our
interpreter does her best to put the gist of it into
5nglish. 2,m listening hard, chewing hard. 2 gather that
these two men had been comrades of a sort during the
war. +r. 7a, our host, was never a full%time soldier,
never even a part%time irregular. -s 2 understand it, he
belonged to what we used to call the <( infrastructure,
offering support and intelligence to +r. &an and his
fighting troops.
2 lean forward, nod my head. &he focus, however,
is on the substance 2,m swallowing, its remarkable
texture, the flies trying to get at it. For five years, +r.
7a explains, he lived entirely underground with a
family of eight. Five years, he repeats. (ooking,
bathing, working, sleeping. 'e waits for the
translation, waits a bit longer, then looks at me with a
pair of silvery, burned%out, cauteri$ed, half%blind,
underground eyes. /You had the daylight, but 2 had the
earth.1 +r. 7a turns to +r. &an. -fter a second he
chuckles. /+any times 2 might reach up and take this
man,s leg. +any times. <ery easy. 2 might *ust pull him
down to where the war was.1
.e,re on foot now. 5ven at ?>, +r. &an moves
swiftly, with the grace and authority of a man who
once led soldiers in combat. 'e does not say much. 'e
leads us toward the ocean, toward the !uaint fishing
village 2,m hoping to show :ate, but along the way
there is one last item +r. &an wishes to show me. .e
move down a trail through two or three ad*acent
hamlets, seem to circle back for a time, end up in front
of another tiny house.
+r. &an,s voice goes into command toneGtwo or
three sharp, snapping words. - pair of boys dart into
the house. No wasted time, they come out fast,
carrying what,s left of a man named Nguyen <an Ngu.
&hey balance this wreckage on a low chair. 7oth legs
are gone at the upper%upper thigh. .e shake hands.
Neither of us knows what to sayGthere is nothing
worth sayingGso for a few minutes we exchange
stupidities in our different languages, no translator
1*2
available to wash away the helplessness. .e pose for
photographs. .e try for smiles.
+r. &an does not smile. 'e nods to himselfG
maybe to me. 7ut 2 get the point anyway. 'ere is your
paradise. 'ere is your pretty little fishing village by the
sea.
&wo minutes later, we,re on the beach. 2t is
beautiful, even stunning. :ate wades out into the
water. "he,s surrounded by kids. &hey giggle and
splash her, she splashes back, and 2 stand there like an
idiot, grinning, admiring the view, while +r. &an waits
patiently in the shade.
(-+782395, ULY =>>CG6utside, it,s the
Fourth of uly. Lovely day, empty streets. :ate is
where :ate is, which is elsewhere, and 2 am where 2
am, which is also elsewhere. "omeday, no doubt, 2,ll
wish happiness for myself, but for now it,s still war
time, minute to minute. Not !uite == -.+. -lready 2,ve
been out for two walks, done the laundry, written a few
words, bought groceries, lifted weights, watched the
Fourth of uly sunlight slide across my street%side
balcony.
-nd :ate0
&he beach, maybe0 - backyard cookout0
&he hardest part, by far, is to make the bad
pictures go away. 6n war time, the world is one long
horror movie, image after image, and if it,s anything
like <ietnam, 2,m in for a lifetime of wee%hour creeps.
+eanwhile, 2 try to plug up the leaks and carry
through on some personal resolutions. For too many
years 2,ve lived in paralysisGguilt, depression, terror,
shameGand now it,s either move or die. 6ver the past
weeks, at profound cost, 2,ve taken actions with my life
that are far too painful for any public record. 7ut at
least the limbo has ended. "tarting can start.
&here,s a point here4 <ietnam, (ambridge, #aris,
NeptuneGthese are states of mind. +inds change.
+Y :'5, WU-N9 N9-2 #86<2N(5,
F578U-8Y =>>CG&here is one piece of ground 2 wish
to revisit above all others in this country. 2,ve come
prepared with a compass, a military map, grid
coordinates, a stack of after%action reports recovered
from a dusty box in the National -rchives.
.e,re back near #inkville, a mile or so east of +y
Lai. .e are utterly lost4 the interpreter, the van driver,
the #eople,s (ommittee representative, 5ddie, :ate,
me. 2 unfold the map and place a finger on the spot 2,m
hoping to find. - group of villagers pu$$le over it. &hey
chatter among themselvesGarguing, it seemsGthen
one of them points west, another north, most at the
heavens.
Lost, that was the <ietnam of H? years ago. &he
war came at us as a blur, raw confusion, and my fear
now is that 2 would not recogni$e the right spot even
while standing on it.
For well over an hour we drive from place to
place. .e end up precisely where we started. 6nce
more, everyone spills out of the van. &he thought
occurs to me that this opportunity may never come
again. 2 find my compass, place it on the map and look
up for a geographical landmark. - low green hill rises
to the westGnot much, *ust a hump on the hori$on.
2,m no trailbla$er, but this works. 6ne eye on the
compass, one eye on some inner rosary, 2 lead our
exhausted column HDD yards eastward, past a
graveyard and out along a narrow paddy dike, where
suddenly the world shapes itself exactly as it was
shaped a !uarter%century agoGthe curvatures, the tree
lines, the precise angles and proportions. 2 stop there
and wait for :ate. &his 2 dreamed of giving her. &his 2
dreamed of sharing.
6ur fingers lock, which happens without volition,
and we stand looking out on a wide and very lovely
field of rice. &he sunlight gives it some gold and
yellow. &here is no wind at all. 7efore us is how peace
would be defined in a dictionary for the speechless. 2
don,t cry. 2 don,t know what to do. -t one point 2 hear
myself talking about what happened here so long ago,
motioning out at the rice, describing chaos and horror
beyond anything 2 would experience until a few
months later. 2 tell her how #aige lost his lower leg,
how we had to probe for +c5lhaney in the flooded
paddy, how the gunfire went on and on, how in the
course of two hell%on%earth hours we took =K
casualties.
2 doubt :ate remembers a word. +aybe she
shouldn,t. 7ut 2 do hope she remembers the sunlight
striking that field of rice. 2 hope she remembers the
feel of our fingers. 2 hope she remembers how 2 fell
silent after a time, *ust looking out at the golds and
yellows, *oining the peace, and how in those fine sunlit
moments, which were ours, <ietnam took a little
<ietnam out of me.
'6 ('2 +2N' (2&Y, F578U-8Y =>>CG.e
hate this place.
5ven the namesG"aigon, 'o (hi +inh (ity. -
massive identity crisis. &oo loud, too !uiet. &oo alive,
too dead.
For all the discomforts of Wuang Ngai #rovince,
which were considerable, :ate and 2 had taken
pleasure in those !ualities of beauty and e!uanimity
that must have vanished from "aigon when the first oil
barge steamed into port.
7ut we give it our best. -n hour in the (hinese
market district, which is like an hour in combat. &wo
hours at the old presidential palaceGas tawdry and
corrupt as its former inhabitants. .e risk periodic
excursions into streets where the -merican dollar
remains more valuable than oxygen, of which there is
precious little. +aybe we,ve hit some interior wall.
+aybe it,s the diesel%heat. .e visit a war%crimes
museum, the old -merican 5mbassy and order lunch
by way of room service. .estern pop music blares at
full volume from 9overnment loudspeakers *ust
outside our hotel. For hours, even with earplugs, we
listen to /-s &ears 9o 7y1 and /+y .ay.1 .hat
happened to 'o (hi +inh0 .hat happened to
revolution0 -ll we,ve heard comes from the 7eatles.
2n midafternoon, the music ceases. .e go out for
a short walk, do some shopping, then retreat to the
rooftop swimming pool of the 8ex 'otel. 2t could as
well be Las <egas. .e don,t say so, not directly, but
both :ate and 2 are ready to evacuate, we,re humming
1*3
/.e gotta get out of this place.1 #retty soon we,ll be
singing it over loudspeakers.
For now, :ate lounges at the pool. "he writes
postcards. "he catches me watching. "he snaps
pictures to show her children someday. MBcto*er 8,
9==MN
1*4
7
(herman Ale4ie
?We!re either &ortrayed as either the no*le savage or
the igno*le savage. 7n most &eo&le!s minds, we only
e;ist in the nineteenth century.@
?Ao*ody ever ased Raymond -arver to s&ea for
every white guy.@
?7 don!t *elieve in writers! *loc. 7 thin it!s la+iness
andNor fear.@
?7!ve heard it said that 7ndians shouldn!t *ecome
involved in highDstaes gam*ling *ecause it tarnishes
our no*le heritage. Personally, 7!ve never *elieved in
the no*ility of &overty. Personally, 7 *elieve in the
no*ility of *reafast, lunch and dinner.@
This Is 6hat It Means to Say
Phoeni%8 /rizona
ust after <ictor lost his *ob at the 72-, he also found
out that his father had died of a heart attack in
#hoenix, -ri$ona. <ictor hadn,t seen his father in a few
years, only talked to him on the telephone once or
twice, but there still was a genetic pain, which was
soon to be pain as real and immediate as a broken
bone.
<ictor didn,t have any money. .ho does have money
on a reservation, except the cigarette and fireworks
salespeople0 'is father had a savings account waiting
to be claimed, but <ictor needed to find a way to get to
#hoenix. <ictor,s mother was *ust as poor as he was,
and the rest of his family didn,t have any use at all for
him. "o <ictor called the &ribal (ouncil.
/Listen,1 <ictor said. /+y father *ust died. 2 need some
money to get to #hoenix to make arrangements.1
/Now, <ictor,1 the council said. /You know we,re
having a difficult time financially.1
/7ut 2 thought the council had special funds set aside
for stuff like this.1
/Now, <ictor, we do have some money available for the
proper return of tribal members, bodies. 7ut 2 don,t
think we have enough to bring your father all the way
back from #hoenix.1
/.ell,1 <ictor said. /2t ain,t going to cost all that much.
'e had to be cremated. &hings were kind of ugly. 'e
died of a heart attack in his trailer and nobody found
him for a week. 2t was really hot, too. You get the
picture.1
/Now, <ictor, we,re sorry for your loss and the
circumstances. 7ut we can really only afford to give
you one hundred dollars.1
/&hat,s not even enough for a plane ticket.1
/.ell, you might consider driving to #hoenix.1
/2 don,t have a car. 7esides, 2 was going to drive my
father,s pickup back up here.1
/Now, <ictor,1 the council said. /.e;re sure there is
somebody who could drive you to #hoenix. 6r is there
somebody who could lend you the rest of the money01
/You know there ain,t nobody around with that kind of
money.1
/.ell, we,re sorry, <ictor, but that,s the best we can
do.1
<ictor accepted the &ribal (ouncil,s offer. .hat else
could he do0 "o he signed the proper papers, picked
up his check, and walked over to the &rading #ost to
cash it.
.hile <ictor stood in line, he watched &homas 7uilds%
the%Fire standing near the maga$ine rack, talking to
himself. Like he always did. &homas was a storyteller
that nobody wanted to listen to. &hat,s like being a
dentist in a town where everybody has false teeth.
<ictor and &homas 7uilds%the%Fire were the same age,
had grown up and played in the dirt together. 5ver
since <ictor could remember, it was &homas who
always had something to say.
6nce, when they were seven years old, when <ictor,s
father still lived with the family, &homas closed his
eyes and told <ictor this story4 /Your father,s heart is
weak. 'e is afraid of his own family. 'e is afraid of
you. Late at night he sits in the dark. .atches the
television until there,s nothing but that white noise.
"ometimes he feels like he wants to buy a motorcycle
and ride away. 'e wants to run and hide. 'e doesn,t
want to be found.1
&homas 7uilds%the%Fire had known that <ictor,s father
was going to leave, knew it before anyone. Now <ictor
stood in the &rading #ost with a one%hundred%dollar
check in his hand, wondering if &homas knew that
<ictor,s father was dead, if he knew what was going to
happen next. ust then &homas looked at <ictor,
smiled, and walked over to him.
/<ictor, 2,m sorry about your father,1 &homas said.

1*5
/'ow did you know about it01 <ictor asked.
/2 heard it on the wind. 2 heard it from the birds. 2 felt
it in the sunlight. -lso, your mother was *ust in here
crying.1
/6h,1 <ictor said and looked around the &rading #ost.
-ll the other 2ndians stared, surprised that <ictor was
even talking to &homas. Nobody talked to &homas
anymore because he told the same damn stories over
and over again. <ictor was embarassed, but he thought
that &homas might be able to help him. <ictor felt a
sudden need for tradition.
/2 can lend you the money you need,1 &homas said
suddenly. /7ut you have to take me with you.1
/2 can,t take your money,1 <ictor said. /2 mean, 2
haven,t hardly talked to you in years. .e,re not really
friends anymore.1
/2 didn,t say we were friends. 2 said you had to take me
with you.1
/Let me think about it.1
<ictor went home with his one hundred dollars and sat
at the kitchen table. 'e held his head in his hands and
thought about &homas 7uilds%the%Fire, remembered
little details, tears and scars, the bicycle they shared
for a summer, so many stories.
a a a
&homas 7uilds%the%Fire sat on the bicycle, waited in
<ictor,s yard. 'e was ten years old and skinny. 'is
hair was dirty because it was the Fourth of uly.
/<ictor,1 &homas yelled. /'urry up. .e,re going to
miss the fireworks.1
-fter a few minutes, <ictor ran out of his house,
*umped the porch railing, and landed gracefully on the
sidewalk.
/-nd the *udges award him a >.>?, the highest score of
the summer,1 &homas said, clapped, laughed.
/&hat was perfect, cousin,1 <ictor said. /-nd it,s my
turn to ride the bike.1
&homas gave up the bike and they headed for the fair%
grounds. 2t was nearly dark and the fireworks were
about to start.
/You know,1 &homas said. /2t,s strange how us 2ndians
celebrate the Fourth of uly. 2t ain,t like it was our
independence everybody was fighting for.1
/You think about things too much,1 <ictor said. /2t,s
*ust supposed to be fun. +aybe unior will be there.1
/.hich unior0 5verybody on this reservation is
named unior.1
-nd they both laughed.
&he fireworks were small, hardly more than a few
bottle rockets and a fountain. 7ut it was enough for
two 2ndian boys. Years later, they would need much
more.
-fterwards, sitting in the dark, fighting off
mos!uitoes, <ictor turned to &homas 7uilds%the%Fire.
/'ey,1 <ictor said. /&ell me a story.1
&homas closed his eyes and told this story4 /&here
were these two 2ndian boys who wanted to be
warriors. 7ut it was too late to be warriors in the old
way. -ll the horsees were gone. "o the two 2ndian boys
stole a car and drove to the city. &hey parked the
stolen car in front of the police station and then
hitchhiked back home to the reservation. .hen they
got back, all their friends cheered and their parents,
eyes shone with pride. You were very *rave,
everybody said to the two 2ndian boys. 6ery *rave.1
/Ya%hey,1 <ictor said. /&hat,s a good one. 2 wish 2
could be a warrior.1
/+e, too,1 &homas said.
&hey went home together in the dark, &homas on the
bike now, <ictor on foot. &hey walked through
shadows and light from streetlamps.
/.e,ve come a long ways,1 &homas said. /.e have
outdoor lighting.1
/-ll 2 need is the stars,1 <ictor said. /-nd besides, you
still think about things too much.1
&hey separated then, each headed for home, both
laughing all the way.
aaa
<ictor sat at his kitchen table. 'e counted his one
hundred dollars again and again. 'e knew he needed
more to make it to #hoenix and back. 'e knew he
needed &homas 7uilds%the%Fire. "o he put his money
in his wallet and opened the front door to find &homas
on the porch.
/Ya%hey, <ictor,1 &homas said. /2 knew you,d call me.1
&homas walked into the living room and sat down on
<ictor,s favorite chair.
/2,ve got some money saved up,1 &homas said. /2t,s
enough to get us down there, but you have to get us
back.1
/2,ve got this hundred dollars,1 <ictor said. /-nd my
dad had a savings account 2,m going to claim.1
/'ow much in your dad,s account01
/5nough. - few hundred.1
/"ounds good. .hen we leaving01
aaa
.hen they were fifteen and had long stopped being
friends, <ictor and &homas got into a fistfight. &hat is,
<ictor was really drunk and beat &homas up for no
reason at all. -ll the other 2ndian boys stood around
and watched it happen. unior was there and so were
Lester, "eymour, and a lot of others. &he beating
might have gone on until &homas was dead if Norma
+any 'orses hadn,t come along and stopped it.
/'ey, you boys,1 Norma yelled and *umped out of her
car. /Leave him alone.1
2f it had been someone else, even another mna, the
2ndian boys would,ve *ust ignored the warnings. 7ut
Norma was a warrior. "he was powerful. "he could
have picked up any two of the boys and smashed their
skulls together. 7ut worse than that, she would have
dragged them all over to some tipi and made them
listen to some elder tell a dusty old story.
1*6
&he 2ndian boys scattered, and Norma walked over to
&homas and picked him up.
/'ey, little man, are you okay01 she asked.
&homas gave her a thumbs up.
/.hy they always picking on you01
&homas shook his head, closed his eyes, but no stories
came to him, no words or music. 'e *ust wanted to go
home, to lie in his bed and let his dreams tell his
stories for him.
aaa
&homas 7uilds%the%Fire and <ictor sat next to each
other in the airplane, coach section. - tiny white
woman had the window seat. "he was busy twisting
her body into pret$els. "he was flexible.
/2 have to ask,1 &homas said, and <ictor closed his
eyes in embarassment.
/3on,t,1 <ictor said.
/5xcuse me, miss,1 &homas asked. /-re you a gymnast
or something01
/&here,s no something about it,1 she said. /2 was first
alternate on the =>@D 6lympic team.1
/8eally01 &homas asked.
/8eally.1
/2 mean, you used to be a world%class athlete01
&homas asked.
/+y husband still thinks 2 am.1
&homas 7uilds%the%Fire smiled. "he was a mental
gymnast, too. "he pulled her leg straight up against
her body so that she could,ve kissed her kneecap.
/2 wish 2 could do that,1 &homas said.
<ictor was ready to *ump out of the plane. &homas,
that cra$y 2ndian storyteller with ratty old braids and
broken teeth, was flirting with a beautiful 6lympic
gymnast. Nobody back home on the reservation would
ever believe it.
/.ell,1 the gymnast said. /2t,s easy. &ry it.1
&homas grabbed at his leg and tried to pull it up into
the same position as the gymnast. 'e couldn,t even
come close, which made <ictor and the gymnast laugh.
/'ey,1 she asked. /You two are 2ndian, right01
/Full%blood,1 <ictor said.
/Not me,1 &homas said. /2,m half magician on my
mother,s side and half clown on my father,s.1
&hey all laughed.
/.hat are your names01 she asked.
/<ictor and &homas.1
/+ine is (athy. #leased to meet you all.1
&he three of them talked for the duration of the flight.
(athy the gymnast complained about the government,
how they screwed the =>@D 6lympic team by
boycotting.
/"ounds like you all got a lot in common with
2ndians,1 &homas said.
Nobody laughed.
-fter the plane landed in #hoenix and they had all
found their way to the terminal, (athy the gymnast
smiled and waved good%bye.
/"he was really nice,1 &homas said.
/yeah, but everybody talks to everybody on airplanes,1
<ictor said. /2t,s too bad we can,t always be that way.1
/You always used to tell me 2 think too much,1 &homas
said. /Now it sounds like you do.1
/+aybe 2 caught it from you.1
/Yeah.1
&homas and <ictor rode in a taxi to the trailer where
<ictor,s father died.
/Listen1 <ictor said as they stopped in front of the
trailer. /2 never told you 2 was sorry for beating you up
that time.1
/6h, it was nothing. .e were *ust kids and you were
drunk.1
/Yeah, but 2,m still sorry.1
/&hat,s all right.1
<ictor paid for the taxi and the two of them stood in
the hot #hoenix summer. &hey could smell the trailer.
/&his ain,t going to be nice,1 <ictor said. /You don,t
have to go in.1
/You,re going to need help.1
<ictor walked to the front door and opened it. &he
stink rolled out and made them both gag. <ictor,s
father had lain in that trailer for a week in hundred%
degree temperatures before anyone found him. -nd
the only reason anyone found him was because of the
smell. &hey needed dental records to identify him.
&hat,s exactly what the coroner said. &hey needed
dental records.
/6h, man,1 <ictor said. /2 don,t know if 2 can do this.1
/.ell, then don,t.1
/7ut there might be something valuable in there.1
/2 thought his money was in the bank.1
/2t is. 2 was talking about pictures and letteres and
stuff like that.1
/6h,1 &homas said as he held his breath and followed
<ictor into the trailer.
aaa
.hen <ictor was twelve, he stepped into an
underground wasp nest. 'is foot was caught in the
hole, and no matter how hard he struggled, <ictor
couldn,t pull free. 'e might have died there, stung a
thousand times, if &homas 7uilds%the%Fire had not
come by.
/8un,1 &homas yelled and pulled <ictor,s foot from the
hole. &hey ran then, hard as they ever had, faster than
7illy +ills, faster than im &horpe, faster than the
wasps could fly.
<ictor and &homas ran until they couldn,t breathe, ran
until it was cold and dark outside, ran until they were
lost and it took hours to find their way home. -ll the
way back, <ictor counted his stings.
/"even,1 <ictor said. /+y lucky number.1
aaa
<ictor didn,t find much to keep in the trailer. 6nly a
photo album and a stereo. 5verything else had that
smell stuck in it or was useless anyway.
/2 guess this is all,1 <ictor said. /2t aint much.1
/7etter than nothing,1 &homas said.
/Yeah, and 2 do have the pickup.1
1*7
/Yeah,1 &homas said. /2t,s in good shape.1
/3ad was good about that stuff.1
/Yeah, 2 remember your dad.1
/8eally01 <ictor asked. /.hat do you remember01
&homas 7uilds%the%Fire closed his eyes and told this
story4 /2 remember when 2 had this dream that told me
to go to "pokane, to stand by the Falls in the middle of
the city and wait for a sign.. 2 knew 2 had to go there
but 2 didn,t have a car. 3idn,t have a license. 2 was only
thirteen. "o 2 walked all the way, took me all day, and 2
finally made it to the Falls. 2 stood there for an hour
waiting. &hen your dad came walking up. What the
hell are you doing hereH he asked me. 2 said, Waiting
for a vision. &hen your father said, "ll you!re going to
get here is mugged. "o he drove me over to 3enny,s,
bought me dinner, and then drove me home to the
reservation. For a long time 2 was mad because 2
thought my dreams had lied to me. 7ut they didn,t.
Your dad was my vision. Tae care of each other is
what my dreams were saying. Tae care of each
other.1
<ictor was !uiet for a long time. 'e searched his mind
for memories of his father, found the good ones, found
a few bad ones, added it all up, and smiled.
/+y father never told me about finding you in
"pokane,1 <ictor said.
/'e said he wouldn,t tell anybody. 3idn,t want me to
get in trouble. 7ut he said 2 had to watch out for you as
part of the deal.1
/8eally01
/8eally. Your father said you would need the help. 'e
was right.1
/&hat,s why you came down here with me, isn,t it01
<ictor asked.
/2 came because of your father.1
<ictor and &homas climbed into the pickup, drove
over to the bank, and claimed the three hundred
dollars in the savings account.
aaa
&homas 7uilds%the%Fire could fly.
6nce, he *umped off the roof of the tribal school and
flapped his arms like a cra$y eagle. -nd he flew. For a
second, he hovered, suspended above all the other
2ndian boys who were too smart or too scared to *ump.
/'e,s flying,1 unior yelled, and "eymour was busy
looking for the trick wires or mirrors. 7ut it was real.
-s real as the dirt when &homas lost altitude and
crashed to the ground.
'e broke his arm in two places.
/'e broke his wing,1 <ictor chanted, and the other
2ndian boys *oined in, made it a tribal song.
/'e broke his wing, he broke his wing, he broke his
wing,1 all the 2ndian boys chanted as they ran off,
flapping their wings, wishing they could fly, too. &hey
hated &homas for his courage, his brief moment as a
bird. 5verybody has dreams about flying. &homas
flew.
6ne of his dreams came true for *ust a second, *ust
enough to make it real.
aaa
<ictor,s father, his ashes, fit in one wooden box with
enough left over to fill a cardboard box.
/'e was always a big man,1 &homas said.
<ictor carried part of his father and &homas carried
the rest out to the pickup. &hey set him down carefully
behind the seats, put a cowboy hat on the wooden box
and a 3odgers cap on the cardboard box. &hat,s the
way it was supposed to be.
/8eady to head back home,1 <ictor asked.
/2t,s going to be a long drive.1
/Yeah, take a couple days, maybe.1
/.e can take turns,1 &homas said.
/6kay,1 <ictor said, but they didn,t take turns. <ictor
drove for sixteen hours straight north, made it halfway
up Nevada toward home before he finally pulled over.
/'ey, &homas,1 <ictor said. /You got to drive for a
while.1
/6kay.1
&homas 7uilds%the%Fire slid behind the wheel and
started off down the road. -ll through Nevada,
&homas and <ictor had been ama$ed at the lack of
animal life, at the absence of water, of movement.
/.here is everything01 <ictor had asked me more than
once.
Now when &homas was finally driving they saw the
first animal, maybe the only animal in Nevada. 2t was
a long%eared *ackrabbit.
/Look,1 <ictor yelled. /2t,s alive.1
&homas and <ictor were busy congratulating
themselves on their discovery when the *ackrabbit
darted out into the road and under the wheels of the
pickup.
/"top the goddamn car,1 <ictor yelled, and &homas
did stop, backed the pickup to the dead *ackrabbit.
/6h, man, he,s dead,1 <ictor said as he looked at the
s!uashed animal.
/8eally dead.1
/&he only thing alive in this whole state and we *ust
killed it.1
/2 don,t know,1 &homas said. /2 think it was suicide.1
<ictor looked around the desert, sniffed the air, felt the
emptiness and loneliness, and nodded his head.
/Yeah,1 <ictor said. /2t had to be suicide.1
/2 can,t believe this,1 &homas said. /You drive for a
thousand miles ain,t even any bugs smashed on the
windshield. 2 drive for ten seconds and kill the only
living thing in Nevada.1
/Yeah,1 <ictor said. /+aybe 2 should drive.1
/+aybe you should.1
aaa
<ictor and &homas made it back to the reservation *ust
as the sun was rising. 2t was the beginning of a new
day on earth, but the same old shit on the reservation.1
/9ood morning.1 &homas said.
/9ood morning.1
1**
&he tribe was waking up, ready for work, eating
breakfast, reading the newspaper, *ust like everybody
else does. .illene Le7ret was out in her garden
wearing a bathrobe. "he waved when &homas and
<ictor drove by.
/(ra$y 2ndians made it,1 she said to herself and went
back to her roses.
<ictor stopped the pickup in front of &homas 7uilds%
the%Fire,s 'U3 house. &hey both yawned, stretched a
little, shook dust from their bodies.
/2,m tired,1 <ictor said.
/6f everything,1 &homas added.
&hey both searched for words to end the *ourney.
<ictor needed to thank &homas for his help, for the
money, and make the promise to pay it all back.
/3on,t worry about the money,1 &homas said. /2t don,t
make any difference anyhow.1
/#robably not, enit01 /Nope.1
<ictor knew that &homas would remain the cra$y
storyteller who talked to dogs and cars, who listened to
the wind and pine trees. <ictor knew that he couldn,t
really be friends with &homas, even after all that had
happened. 2t was cruel but it was real. -s real as the
ashes, as <ictor,s father, sitting behind the seats.
/2 know how it is,1 &homas said. /2 know you ain,t
going to treat me any better than you did before. 2
know your friends would give you too much shit about
it.1
<ictor was ashamed of himself. .hatever happened to
the tribal ties, the sense of community0 &he only real
thing he shared with anybody was a bottle and broken
dreams. 'e owed &homas something, anything.
/Listen,1 <ictor said and handed &homas the
cardboard box which contained half of his father. /2
want you to have this.1
&homas took the ashes and
smiled, closed his eyes, and
told this story4 /2,m going to
travel to "pokane Falls one
last time and toss these
ashes into the water. -nd
your father will rise like a
salmon, leap over the
bridge, over me, and find
his way home. 2t will be
beautiful. 'is teeth will
shine like silver, like a
rainbow. 'e will rise,
<ictor, he will rise.1
<ictor smiled.
/2 was planning on doing
the same thing with my
half,1 <ictor said. /7ut 2
didn,y imagine my father
looking anything like a
salmon. 2 thought it,d be
like cleaning the attic or something. Like lettings
things go after they,ve stopped having any use.1
/Nothing stops, cousin,1 &homas said. /Nothing
stops.1
&homas 7uilds%the%Fire got out of the pickup and
walked up his driveway. <ictor started the pickup and
he began to drive home.
/.ait,1 &homas yelled suddenly from his porch. /2 *ust
got to ask one favor.1
<ictor stopped the pickup, leaned out the window, and
shouted back. /.hat do you want01
/ust one time when 2,m telling a story somewhere,
why don,t you stop and listen01 &homas asked.
/ust once01
/ust once.1
<ictor waved his arms to let &homas know that the
deal was good. 2t was a fair trade, and that was all
<ictor had ever wanted from his whole life. "o <ictor
drive his father,s pickup toward home while &homas
went into his house, closed the door behind him, and
heard a new story come to him in the silence
afterwards.
from /-merican "hort "tories "ince =>C?1
edited by ohn 9. #arks
e HDDH 6xford University #ress, New York
http4UUwww.barriolife.comUstoriesUalexie.ht
ml
1*+
Coeur d;/lene indians- Le!t to right- Pliisia
D<ohn 7a'enortE8 Hn@;e;#=e;ns DMoses
BrokentoothE8 T;;nt;;nmiDPeter MoctelmeE8
6e;ylshuDPeter 6ildshoeE8 Chi;aut@n DSol=
LouisE8 T;k;umtiDTekomtee
/n .ssay on Casinos $y
Sherman /le%ie
Lo'e8 hunger8 money999 and other not=
so=!acetious reasons
#hy the Sokane Indians #ant to $et
on casinos
$y Sherman /le%ie
2,ve *ust returned from the "pokane &ribe,s casino%
and%gambling mecca at the western edge of our
reservation, and 2 may have to enter the federal
.itness 8elocation #rogram because 2 have seen and
know too much. 2 couldn,t believe it. 2 had gone there
expecting to see a few slot machines and some sweaty
small%town gamblers. 2nstead, there were do$ens of
suspicious%looking men in expensive suits shaking
hands with our "pokane tribal councilmen.
/2t,s the +afia,1 2 whispered into the tape recorder that
2 had carefully hidden beneath the bill of my
.ashington 8edskins baseball hat. 8isking life and
limb, 2 maneuvered closer to the wiseguys and
councilmen. &hey barely noticed me, of course,
because nobody, neither 2ndian nor white, ever pays
attention to poets.
/&he Family really admires what you,re doing out
there,1 one of the wiseguys said to the councilmen. 'is
diction was perfect. /.e believe your reservation could
become a lucrative member of our network.1
+y true identity could,ve been discovered at any time.
(onfidently, 2 ordered a 3iet #epsi without ice,
shaken, not stirred.
/.here do you want us
to sign01 the councilmen
asked and took out the
pens that they all saved
for special occasions.
/"ign here. -nd initial
here and here.1
Unable to read the fine
print, 2 inched closer and
closer % too close, in fact.
/.hat seems to be the
problem01 one of the
wiseguys asked as he
grabbed me by the front
of my -tlanta 7raves &%
shirt.
/.ho is this young man01 the head wiseguy asked.
/'im01 the councilmen asked, and looked at me. /'e,s
*ust a poet.1
/#rove it,1 the head wiseguy demanded of me.
/+y love is like a red, red rose,1 2 blurted. 2 waited for
the response. 'ad all my years of creative%writing
classes finally paid off0 &he head wiseguy looked me
over, slapped my face gently, pinched my cheek.
/Leave him alone,1 he said to the wiseguy holding me.
/'e,s *ust a poet. 9ive him a dollar and a free drink.1
2 took my dollar and voucher for another #epsi and
went my way. 'owever, 2 had time to read the fine
print on one of those contracts and it said the terms of
this agreement would be valid as long as the grasses
grow, the winds blow, and the rivers flow.
'elp me. 2,m writing this from a seedy hotel room in
an eastern .ashington city. 2 know too much. 2 know
that the +afia is on the "pokane 2ndian 8eservation
and that they,re making treaties. 2 know the +afia will
break those treaties and only the United "tates
9overnment is allowed to break treaties with 2ndians.
2,m caught in a crossfire. 'elp me. 2,m *ust a poet.
9ambling has always been
about trust and the loss
of trust. 2t,s never been
about money. 9ambling is
nothing new for the 2ndians.
9ambling is traditional
and began when (olumbus arrived
in our country. 2ndians started
to roll the dice every time
we signed another treaty
but we,ve always been the losers
because the dice were loaded
and the treaties broken
by random design. Now
we,ve got our own game
of 8eservation 8oulette
and 2,d advise the faithful
to always bet on red.
'owever, 2 have the distinct feeling that -merica is
not placing any bets on the survival of 2ndians.
-merica will not even allow 2ndians to become citi$ens
of the HDth century. .e,re trapped somewhere
between (uster and (olumbus, between the noble and
savage. 2,ve heard it said that 2ndians shouldn,t
1+,
become involved in high%stakes gambling because it
tarnishes our noble heritage. #ersonally, 2,ve never
believed in the nobility of poverty. #ersonally, 2 believe
in the nobility of breakfast, lunch and dinner.
2ndians need money.
Forget the discussions about self%hate or cultural
dislocation. Forget the loss of land and language. +ost
2ndians cannot even begin to think about those kinds
of complicated issues. &hey don,t have the time. &hey
have to spend most of their time worrying about where
their next meal is coming from. &hey worry about how
love and hunger can get so mixed up. +ost 2ndians
don,t have time or energy enough to listen to me or
you.
-s 7illie 'oliday said, /You,ve got to have something
to eat and a little love in your life before you can hold
still for anybody,s damned sermon.1
2ndians need
the money, 2ndians need
the money, the money
because we all need
all of us Imeaning
me and youJ need
the money. 2ndians
need it more
because we have less
of everything
except our stories and poems
but you can,t buy
a can of "pam
with a metaphor. .e need
the money, the money
because money is -merica,s
religion, because money is
prayer and hymn, because
a dollar bill can fill
our empty stomachs
like a good savior will.
2,ve also heard so much talk about the morality of
gambling. 'ow immoral is the .ashington "tate
Lottery0 'ow immoral is 9rand (oulee 3am0 'ow
immoral are the beer and tobacco companies0
&hose !uestions have
their answers buried
somewhere deep in the
heart of capitalism, and
the casino on the
"pokane 2ndian
8eservation is proof
that the "pokanes have
embraced capitalism.
&here was a demand for
a product IgamblingJ
and the "pokane
2ndians have produced
a supply IcasinoJ.
3oes that frighten me0
6f course. 7ut 2 think
it,s more important to
ask the non%2ndians
why they are frightened
of it.
2s it because of the imagined threat of gangster
influence0 &he profits from reservation gambling are
small change on a +afia
scale.
2s it because of the supposed threat to the noble image
of 2ndians0 &here isn,t much non%2ndian complaint
about the .ashington 8edskins or the fact that &onto
is still monosyllabic on television every day of the
year.
2s it really because of the immorality of gambling0
(apitalism has always rewarded immorality,
regardless of race, gender or religion.
2 think it has more to do with power. -s 2ndians make
money we also gain power. -s we gain power we
develop a political voice. .e can then use that voice to
demand that treaties be honored.
.e can demand that this country be held accountable
for what it did to us and what it continues to do to us.
.e can make those demands because we,ll have the
power. .e can make those demands because we,ll
have the money. .e,ll have the money that used to
belong to you.
from 4igh -ountry Aews
Iwww.hcn.orgJ, "eptember =>, =>>C.
6nline at
www.hcn.orgU=>>CUsep=>UdirUessay.h
tml
1+1
Biograhy
"herman . -lexie, r., was born in 6ctober =>EE. -
"pokaneU(oeur d,-lene 2ndian, he grew up on the
"pokane 2ndian 8eservation in .ellpinit, .ashington,
about ?D miles northwest of "pokane. -pproximately
=,=DD "pokane &ribal members live there. -lexie,s
father is a (oeur d,-lene 2ndian, and his mother is a
"pokane 2ndian.
7orn hydrocephalic, with water on the brain, -lexie
underwent a brain operation at the age of E months
and was not expected to survive. .hen he did beat the
odds, doctors predicted he would live with severe
mental retardation. &hough he showed no signs of
this, he suffered severe side effects, such as sei$ures
and uncontrollable bed%wetting, throughout his
childhood. 2n spite of all this, -lexie learned to read by
age three, and devoured novels, such as ohn
"teinbeck,s The 2ra&es of Wrath, by age five. -ll these
things ostraci$ed him from his peers and he was often
the brunt of other kids, *okes on the reservation.
-s a teenager, after finding his mother,s name written
in a textbook he was assigned at the .ellpinit school,
-lexie made a conscious decision to attend high school
off the reservation in 8eardan, .-, where he knew he
would get a better education. -t 8eardan 'igh he was
/the only 2ndian...except for the school mascot.1 &here
he excelled academically and became a star player on
the basketball team.
'e graduated from
8eardan 'igh and went
on to attend 9on$aga
University in "pokane
on scholarship in =>@?.
-fter two years at
9on$aga, he transferred
to .ashington "tate
University I."UJ in
#ullman.
-lexie planned to be a
doctor until he /fainted three times in human anatomy
class and needed a career change.1 &hat change was
fueled when he stumbled into a poetry workshop at
."U. 5ncouraged by poetry teacher -lex :uo, -lexie
excelled at writing and reali$ed he,d found his new
career choice. "hortly after graduating in -merican
"tudies from ."U, -lexie received the .ashington
"tate -rts (ommission #oetry Fellowship in =>>= and
the National 5ndowment for the -rts #oetry
Fellowship in =>>H.
Not long after receiving his second fellowship, and *ust
one year after he left ."U, two of his poetry
collections, The Business of Fancydancing and 7
Would #teal 4orses, were published. -lexie had a
problem with alcohol that began soon after he started
college at 9on$aga, but after learning that 'anging
Loose #ress agreed to publish The Business of
Fancydancing, he immediately gave up drinking, at
the age of HK, and has been sober ever since.
-lexie continued to write prolifically and his first
collection of short stories, The $one Ranger and
Tonto Fistfight in 4eaven, was published by
-tlantic +onthly #ress in =>>K. For his collection he
received a #5NU'emingway -ward for 7est First 7ook
of Fiction, and was awarded a Lila .allace%8eader,s
3igest .riters, -ward.
-lexie was named one of 9ranta,s 7est of Young
-merican Novelists and won the 7efore (olumbus
Foundation,s -merican 7ook -ward and the +urray
+organ #ri$e for his first novel, Reservation Blues,
published in =>>? by -tlantic +onthly #ress. 'is
second novel, 7ndian %iller, published in =>>E, also
by -tlantic +onthly #ress, was named one of Peo&le,s
7est of #ages and a Aew Yor Times Notable 7ook.
-lexie occasionally does reading and stand%up
performances with musician im 7oyd, a (olville
2ndian. -lexie and 7oyd also collaborated to record the
album Reservation Blues, which contains the
songs from the book of the same name. 6ne of the
Reservation Blues songs, /"mall .orld1, also
appeared on Taling Rain' #&oen Word I Music
from the Pacific Aorthwest and 4onor' " Benefit for
the 4onor the Earth -am&aign. 2n =>>E 7oyd and
-lexie opened for the 2ndigo 9irls at a concert to
benefit the 'onor the 5arth (ampaign.
2n =>>F, -lexie embarked on another artistic
collaboration. (hris 5yre, a (heyenneU-rapaho
2ndian, discovered -lexie,s writing while doing
graduate work at New York University,s film school.
&hrough a mutual friend, they agreed to collaborate on
a film pro*ect inspired by -lexie,s work.
&he basis for the screenplay was /&his is .hat it
+eans to "ay #hoenix, -ri$ona,1 a short story from
The $one Ranger and Tonto Fistfight in 4eaven.
"hadow (atcher 5ntertainment produced the film.
8eleased as #moe #ignals at the "undance Film
Festival in anuary =>>@, the movie won two awards4
the -udience -ward and the Filmmakers &rophy.
-fter success at "undance, "moke "ignals found a
distributor, +iramax Films, and was released in New
York and Los -ngeles on une HE and across the
country on uly K. 2n =>>> the film received a
(hristopher -ward, an award presented to the
creators of artistic works /which affirm the highest
values of the human spirit.1 -lexie was also nominated
for the 2ndependent Feature #ro*ectU.est =>>>
2ndependent "pirit -ward for 7est First "creenplay.
1+2
2n the midst of releasing "moke "ignals, -lexie
competed in his first .orld 'eavyweight #oetry
7out competition in une =>>@. 'e went up against
world champion immy "antiago 7aca and won the
7out, and then went on to win the title again over the
next three years, becoming the first poet to hold the
title for three and four consecutive years.
:nown for his exceptional humor and performance
ability, -lexie made his stand%up debut at the
Foolproof Northwest (omedy Festival in "eattle, .-,
in -pril =>>>, and was the featured performer at the
<ancouver 2nternational (omedy Festival,s opening
night gala in uly =>>>.
2n =>>@, -lexie participated with seven others in the
#7" Lehrer News 'our 3ialogue on 8ace with
#resident (linton. &he discussion was moderated by
im Lehrer and originally aired on #7" on uly >,
=>>@. -lexie has also been featured on #olitically
2ncorrect , ED +inutes 22, and N6. with 7ill +oyers,
for which he wrote a special segment on insomnia and
his writing process called /Up -ll Night.1
2n February HDDK, -lexie participated in the
+useum of &olerance pro*ect, /Finding 6ur
Families, Finding 6urselves,1 an exhibit showcasing
the diversity within the personal histories of several
noted -mericans, and that celebrates the shared
experiences common to being part of an -merican
family and encourages visitors to seek out their own
histories, mentors and heroes. &his pro*ect was
featured on &he 6prah .infrey "how, /6ur 7ig
-merican Family,1 which originally aired in anuary
HDDK, on which -lexie was a guest.
-lexie was the guest editor for the .inter HDDD%D=
issue of Ploughshares, a prestigious literary *ournal.
'e was a =>>> 6. 'enry -ward #ri$e *uror, was one of
the *udges for the HDDD inagural #5NU-ma$on.com
"hort "tory -ward, and a *uror for both the #oetry
"ociety of -merica,s HDD= "helley +emorial -ward
and the #oets and .riters /.riters 5xchange HDD=1
(ontest. 'e currently serves as a mentor in the #5N
5merging .riters program.
'e was a member of the HDDD and HDD= 2ndependent
"pirit -wards Nominating (ommittees, and has seved
as a creative adviser to the "undance 2nstitute .riters
Fellowship #rogram and the 2ndependent Feature
Films .est "creenwriters Lab.
-lexie was the commencement speaker for the
University of .ashington,s HDDK commencement
ceremony. 2n 6ctober HDDK he received .ashington
"tate University,s highest honor for alumni, the
8egents, 3istinguished -lumnus -ward.
-lexie has published =E books to date, including his
most recent collection of short stories, Ten $ittle
7ndians.
6hat It Means to Be Sherman
/le%ie
The toughest Indian #riter in the #orld angles
!or a $igger audience9
$y Russ Sencer
"herman -lexie,s second%floor "eattle office is
bordered by redwoods and cedar and has three pieces
of art on the walls. &wo of them are what you would
expect. 6ne is the original artwork from his second
short%story collection, First 7ndian on the Moon. &he
other is a signed and framed print of the poem
/&hanksgiving at "nake 7utte1 by the pre%eminent
2ndian author ames .elch, one of -lexie,s literary
heroes.
&hen there,s the black%and%white photograph to the
left of his desk. 2t,s a portrait of :urt (obain, the
grunge%rock superhero who revitali$ed the moribund
early%,>Ds pop%culture scene with his band Nirvana
and then, in =>>C, killed himself with a shotgun blast
to the head. &he photo is a surprise at first, but then
you reali$e it fits. &he sense of being an outsider, the
anger, the motivation. "eattle.
/'e saved us all,1 -lexie says. /'e came and blew
away all that shit that was going on.1
-lexie isn,t as famous as (obain, but he wants to be.
'e started as what he likes to call /a small literary
writer from "eattle,1 but he was remarkably prolific
and had an appetite for success. 'is college writing
professor, -lex :uo, once said that he probably had
ten students with more talent than -lexie. 7ut -lexie,
:uo said, /had a dedication that other students with
perhaps more talent didn,t have.1
&hat dedication has paid off. 6ne year after he
graduated from college in =>>=, two books of his
poetry were published, 7 Would #teal 4orses and The
Business of Fancydancing, and as the legend goes,
their acceptance prompted him to kick five years of
debilitating drinking in one night. 'e has since
published five more books of poetry. 'is first book of
prose, a short%story collection titled The $one Ranger
and Tonto Fistfight in 4eaven, was published in =>>K,
and he followed in =>>? with his first novel,
Reservation Blues. 7ndian %iller came out a year later
and became a Aew Yor Times Notable 7ook. &hen he
devoted his time to producing the =>>@ film #moe
#ignals and working on his new collection, The
Toughest 7ndian in the World. -long the way, he won
awards from #5N, the National 5ndowment for the
1+3
-rts, the 5rnest 'emingway Foundation and many
others. 2n =>>@ and =>>>, he was named by both
2ranta and The Aew Yorer as one of the best
-merican fiction writers under forty. 'e has been
embraced by 'ollywood, as wellGhe is now working
on three screen adaptations of novels, including his
own Reservation Blues. -nd he won both the =>>@ and
=>>> .orld 'eavyweight (hampionship #oetry 7out
at the &aos #oetry (ircus in New +exico.
a a a
/2 identify strongly with him,1 -lexie says of (obain.
/"mall%town guy, poor, makes himself into this huge
rock star.1
-lexie was born *ust six months before (obain, a
couple of hundred scrub%brush miles away from
(obain,s tiny hometown of -berdeen, on the =?D,DDD%
acre "pokane 2ndian 8eservation in eastern
.ashington. Like (obain, his antipathy toward the
social and racial oppression of mainstream -merica
drove much of his early work. .ith -lexie,s success,
though, he has begun moving beyond his early, anger%
driven prose into a kind of mythopoetic writing style,
which has come stridently into focus with The
Toughest 7ndian in the World.
(oncurrently, -lexieGthough he describes himself as
an introvertGhas purposefully developed a fast%
talking, highly entertaining onstage comic persona. -t
public appearances, he embarks on !uick%witted
monologues, taking serious aim at pretty much every
race he can, but reserving a disproportionate amount
of attention for what he calls /cra$y white people.1 'e
gleefully targets New -ge white women who /come
floating onto the reservation healing everything in
their path1 and *okes about white people who expect
him to read coyote stories, speak in a slow monotone
and /stare off into the distance as if constantly
receiving visions.1
-lexie memori$es his own stories and then acts them
out, improvising new lines along the way, making the
reading into a kind of free%form 7eat performance. 'e
has developed this side of his work, he says,
specifically to further his career and in part because he
was often turned off by writers who appeared live and
read their work, no matter how brilliant, with a
monotone delivery. /2 care about my writing so much,
and 2,m so involved in it and so emotionally connected
to it, and 2 want that passion, that caring, that hatred
of it, that incredible relationship 2 have with my own
work, 2 want people to know about that,1 he says. /2
want them to feel it when 2,m up in front of them
talking about what 2 do.1
2t,s all undertaken to accomplish one central goal, he
says, and that is to get his books read by twelve%year%
old reservation kids, who, like him, grew up either
with heroes who had been created by the white media
or no heroes at all. /2n order for the 2ndian kid to read
me,1 -lexie says, /pop culture is where 2 should be.
Literary fiction is very elitist. &he fifteen or twenty
thousand literary%book buyers in this country, 2,m very
happy for them, and 2,m happy they buy my books, by
and large. 7ut there is a whole other population out
there 2 want to reach. -nd so for me, what kind of art
can 2 create that gets to them0 2 don,t want to have an
elitist career. 2,ve won awards, 2,ve gotten a lot of
attention, 2,ve been in &he New Yorker, 2,m very happy
with all that. 2,m very proud. 7ut 2 would consider
myself a failure if more people didn,t read me. 2,d
rather be accessible than win a +ac-rthur.1
.ith the success, of course, it,s become harder and
harder for "herman -lexie to live up to the image the
public has of him as the toughest 2ndian writer in the
world. 7oth whites and 2ndians come at him with
expectations. 'e butts up against these expectations
and complains about them vociferously, at the same
time using them to his advantage. &here have been few
2ndian writers with the kind of mainstream ambitions
as -lexie, and he,s the first to admit that he has
worked the 2ndian angle for all it,s worth. /2t,s a really
crowded world out there, and everybody is clamoring
for attention and you use what you,ve got,1 he says.
/-nd what 2,ve got that makes me original is that 2,m a
re$ boy.1
a a a
-lexie,s father is (oeur d,-lene 2ndian, and his mother
is "pokane 2ndian. 6ne of six siblings, he was born
6ctober F, =>EE, in the tiny reservation town of
.ellpinit. "oon after his birth, he was diagnosed with
hydrocephalus, a condition in which expanding cranial
fluid puts too much pressure on the brain. -t six
months old, -lexie underwent drastic surgery. &he
doctors told his parents that if he survived at all, which
was doubtful, he would most likely be mentally
handicapped. -s a result of the surgery, he dealt with
sei$ures and uncontrollable bed%wetting late into
childhood, eventually becoming what he describes as a
math geek who played 3ungeons and 3ragons by
himself in the basement. 'e was smart and tall,
though, so he went to 8eardan, a white high school,
where he played on the basketball team and was the
only real 2ndian on the 8eardan 2ndians. 'e went on
to college at .ashington "tate University in #ullman
and, after taking a writing class, gave up his pre%med
plans.
6n +ay =?, -lexie returned to -untie,s 7ookstore in
"pokane, the place he had gone to buy books and
games as a child. &his time he was there to give a
reading, and he read the story /3ear ohn .ayne1
from his new book. 2n the third row sat his mother and
father, two brothers, two sisters and two nieces. &here
were people he had known from all periods of his life,
childhood, college and adulthood in "eattle. &here was
the woman who worked at the "afeway near his
crummy apartment in college, whom he would see
1+4
every day when he went to the grocery store, counting
his pennies along the way, to buy something to eat.
"eeing her was a symbolic moment, he says. /2 had this
big crush on her, and 2 never told her. Now 2 can tell
her.1
2n other words, -lexie has arrived. &here were five
hundred people at that reading, and another couple of
hundred had to be turned away. "uccess kills some
pop stars, but it,s bringing -lexie to lifeGin some
ways, making him larger than life.
&he success of #moe #ignals certainly helped.
(obbled together from situations and characters first
developed in The $one Ranger and Tonto Fistfight in
4eavenGprimarily from the story /&his is .hat 2t
+eans to "ay #hoenix, -ri$ona1Git is a road%trip
movie about Northwest 2ndians <ictor oseph and
&homas 7uilds%-%Fire, who drive to the "outhwest to
take possession of the ashes of <ictor,s dead father.
-lexie wrote the screenplay and produced the movie,
which was picked up by +iramax after winning the
-udience -ward and the Filmmakers &rophy at the
=>>@ "undance Film Festival. 2t became the first
2ndian%produced, 2ndian%directed, 2ndian%written
feature film ever distributed in the United "tates. -nd
as -lexie likes to point out, /&he 2ndians weren,t
played by 2talians with long hair.1
2t also showed -lexie the cultural power of film,
something he never experienced with his books, and
that gave him his biggest taste yet of the pop%culture
presence he desires. /&homas 7uilds%a%Fire, the
character, has become a huge cultural character in the
2ndian world,1 -lexie says. /2 get photographs of
2ndian kids who dressed as him for 'alloween. 'is
lines in the movie have become pop%cultural phrases.
2n the 2ndian world, we *ust don,t have that. 6ur
heroes have always been guys with guns. -nd now, to
have this cultural hero who is this androgynous little
storytelling bookworm geekG2 think that,s wonderful.1
'is fiction has since become bigger, more daring,
more surreal. 'e now traffics in huge metaphors and
characters that engage in strange, archetypal and at
times wildly desperate bids for intimacy or a sense of
personal context. -s such, The Toughest 7ndian in the
World has elicited wildly divergent appraisals. .hile
The Aew Yorer has given it a kind of ueberblessing
by running two of the book,s stories in the past year,
The Aew Yor Times panned it. Pu*lishers Weely
gave it a starred review, stating /-lexie,s stories
continually surprise, revealing him once again as a
master of his craft.1 7ut others have accused him of
fashioning those same surprises *ust for effect.
7n Toughest 7ndian, there is a road%trip story, /"outh
by "outhwest,1 similar in many key ways to #moe
#ignals, but <ictor and &homas have been replaced by
a nutty white guy named "eymour and a fat 2ndian
that "eymour nicknames "almon 7oy. &hey kiss in the
front seat of a =>E? (hevrolet +alibu on their way to a
+c3onald,s in &ucson, -ri$ona. 2n -lexie,s preceding
work, the novel 7ndian %iller, there was no kissing
going on between 2ndians and white guys. &here
wasn,t even any handshaking. -n 2ndian guy was
mutilating white guys with a knife and leaving owl
feathers on their bodies.
"eymour and "almon 7oy meet when "eymour
attempts to rob a pancake house, #ulp Fiction%style.
'e takes \CH in change from the customers and then
says he needs someone to go with him to -ri$ona,
someone who will fall in love with him along the way.
"almon 7oy is the only volunteer.
/-re you gay01 "eymour asks. /2,m not gay.1
/No sir, 2 am not a homosexual,1 "almon 7oy says. /2
am not a homosexual, but 2 do believe in the power of
love.1
-lexie carries out the story, as he carries out all of the
stories in the book, with his own brand of magic
realism, as if these weren,t modern short stories at all,
but indigenous folk tales that have been passed down
through the ages. 'e mixes mythic references to
salmon and constellations with the tragedies and
foibles of real 2ndian life, with all of its *uxtapositions,
misunderstandings and occasional victories. 'e
weaves in and out of 2ndian stereotypes, setting them
up, teasing the reader with them, destroying them, and
then being courageous enough to refer back to them
again, as if, within the weave of what is thought to be
true of pre%colonial 2ndians and what you see of
today,s 2ndians, lies the ultimate truth. 2t,s a trickster
sleight of hand that messes with reality and allows
-lexie to get away with stories that feel purposefully
timeless.
a a a
-lexie does a lot of his writing at K a.m. at the
2nternational 'ouse of #ancakes in the university
district of "eattle, close to his office and not too far
from his home, where he lives with his wife, 3iane, a
college counselor and 'idatsa 2ndian, and their five%
year%old son. 'e has been an insomniac since he was a
child. 2n those days, he would play games. Now, when
he,s up late, he writes. .hen he,s not traveling, his
"eattle life is !uietGhe is limited to the writing he does
during the day, at an office shared with an assistant he
has known since college. 'e spends time with his
family in the evenings and meets up with his buddies
for basketball every &uesday after work.
'e says all of his stories are born out of a central
image that expands as he writes, and the image for
"eymour and "almon 7oy came one night at the 2'6#.
/-n 2ndian and a white guy walked in together, and
they were obviously great friends,1 he recalls. /&hey
were laughing and a little intoxicated and not sloppy
1+5
or obnoxious, *ust having a great time. -nd they
looked so sweet together. &hey weren,t lovers, there
was none of that energy, but they seemed so close and
so intimate with each other that it was really
touching.1
'omosexuality informs many of the stories in The
Toughest 7ndian in the World. &he title story is about
an 2ndian *ournalist who picks up an 2ndian boxer
hitchhiking. &he tired, conflicted writer is in awe of
what he perceives as the fighter,s mythic purity. /You,d
have been a warrior in the old days, enit01 the
*ournalist says. /You would,ve been a killer. You
would,ve stole everybody,s horses.1 &he story
explodes, though, when they share a hotel room and,
late at night, the fighterGwho, it turns out, is gayG
climbs into the writer,s bed and coaxes the *ournalist
into a new experience.
/2,m becoming more urban and also spending more
and more time in the art world, which, you know, is
heavily populated by homosexuals,1 -lexie says. /"o
simply, my experiences have grown, so the characters
represented in my fiction will grow accordingly. -nd
one of the things, one of the hatreds that bothers me
the most is homophobia. "o in some sense 2 wanted to
use my fiction as a way of addressing that directly. -nd
celebrating MhomosexualityN in all of its forms. -nd
including it as *ust another aspect of love.1
Love0 From the guy who still talks about his fantasies
of killing the white guys who sat in the back row of his
high%school classes0 /- couple of the reviews found the
story cynical or a parody. -nd 2 meant it to be a very
sweet story,1 he says. /2 was trying to do that. 2t is
certainly difficult for anybody to love anybody, but we
usually do 6:. &hese aren,t happy stories necessarily.
7ut 2 think they are positive stories.1
2f this isn,t the kind of thing one would expect from
-lexie, well, he,s fine with that. /2 always want to be a
moving target,1 he says.
&hat !uality may stem from a certain sense of personal
protectionism. 2n the crowd at -untie,s 7ookstore, a
lot of his old ac!uaintances from the reservation were
on hand, and some were most decidedly not
supporters of his work. -lexie has been dogged
throughout his career by accusations from those at the
reservation who say that he is selling them up the
river, misrepresenting reservation life for his own
gain, embarrassing them. /&he word that keeps
coming back is responsibility,1 -lexie says. /&hey ask
me to represent them, until the point where 2,m not an
artist. 2,m a politician, or not even that, a
propagandist. 2,m supposed to be making public%
service announcements, rather than creating art. -nd 2
hate that. &hat kind of pressure is terrible.1
-t one point after his reading, a reservation 2ndian
woman approached the microphone in the crowd.
-lexie said later he had been estranged from her since
age nine. /6ld long feuds over old long things,1 he
said. &he woman asked why, instead of shooting
fictional narrative film like #moe #ignals, he didn,t
film a documentary about the reservation, so that the
-merican public could see /how it really is.1
- few minutes later, a white man approached the mike
and asked, /3o you hate white people01
&hese !uestions follow -lexie wherever he goes. -nd
he,s not going to escape them, because what they both
spring from informs who he has made himself to beG
an 2ndian writer. 2t is both his reason to write and
what he battles most strongly against. 5very single one
of the stories in his new book is about 2ndians and
whites trying to overcome the stereotypes of who and
what they are supposed to be. -nd that,s -lexie,s own
challenge these days.
6n his book *ackets in the past, -lexie has worn the
same stoic too%cool%for%school 2ndian mask that he
himself makes fun of. 'e calls it /the ethnic stare.1 6n
his new book, though, we see a man without the mask.
'e wears a look of concern, but also of gentleness,
vulnerability and, ultimately, pride. 2t was taken by
8ex 8ystedt, the same "eattle photographer who took
the (obain portrait on his wall. 6ne looks at the image
and wonders, 2s this the introvert0 6r the guy who
becomes the 2ndian 8ichard #ryor on stage0 &he
insomniac scratching out verse at K a.m. in the "eattle
2'6#0 6r the screenwriter who takes lunch at "unset
"trip cafes0 &he poor re$ boy who en*oys the power
and privilege he once railed against0 &he guy who
started as a outsider poet0 6r the one who now wants
to be a mainstream pop%culture icon0 - man who may
not be telling the whole truth about the modern
-merican 2ndian but is at least telling his own0
"herman -lexie defied expectations from his first
breath. Now, he does it for the -merican literary world
and, increasingly, the -merican public, as well.
Book )agazine" (ul3August -444
,n *herman Ale5ie
0enneth Lincoln
.ith "herman -lexie, readers can throw formal
!uestions out the smokehole Ias in resistance to other
modern verse innovators, .hitman, .illiams, "exton,
or the 7eatsJ. #arodic antiformalism may account for
some of -lexie,s mass maverick appeal. &his 2ndian
gadfly *umps through all the hoops, sonnet, to
villanelle, to heroic couplet, all tongue%in%cheeky. /2,m
sorry, but 2,ve met thousands of 2ndians,1 he told
2ndian -rtist maga$ine, "pring =>>@, /and 2 have yet to
know of anyone who has stood on a mountain waiting
1+6
for a sign.1 - reader enters the land of +&< and
renascent -2+4 a cartoon #ocahontas meets 7eavis
and 7utt%head at the forest,s edge, "itting 7ull takes on
-rnold "chwar$enegger at .ounded :nee TFK. &he
Last 8eal 2ndian has a few last words.
- stand%up comedian, the 2ndian improvisator is the
performing text, obviating too close a textual reading4
youngish man, six%foot%two or so, born in =>EE at the
height of hippie nativism, from .ellpinit, .ashington,
now living in "eattle and taking the fin de siecle
literary world by storm Ian 2ndian 6scar .ilde0J.
-fter a century of benign neglect, 2ndian literature has
hit an inflationary spiral with six%figure book deals and
million%dollar movies. New York publishers have been
humping this sassy, talk%back satirist as the last
essentialist hold%out, a commercially successful (ra$y
'orse of mass marketing. &he /most prodigious1
Native -merican writer to date, -lexie told a (hicago
"un reporter asking about his brassy novel, 2ndian
:iller, 6ctober =>>E, to which the reporter !ueried,
/2ndian du*our01 6ur young hero replied, /2f so, it,s
been a very long day. 'ow about 2ndian du decade01
+illennial 2ndian extraordinaire0 &he reporter raised
the controversy over 9ranta naming -lexie one of the
twenty /7est Young -merican Novelists1 for
8eservation 7lues Inot a novelJ, and "herman
snapped4 /&o say 2 was on the list because 2,m an
2ndian is ridiculous4 2,m one of the most critically
respected writers in the country. "o the 9ranta critics .
. . essentially, fuck Tem1 I6ctober K=, =>>E, New (ity,s
Literary "upplementJ. "tarting with Native -merican
writers, -lexie,s competition includes no less than
-llen, 5rdrich, 'ar*o, 'ogan, +omaday, 6rti$, "ilko,
&all+ountain, &apahonso, .elch, and .hiteman,
among others Inot to mention non%2ndians like &oni
+orrison, Norman +ailer, (ormac +c(arthy, or 8ita
3oveJ. 2f /most critically respected1 in a specific
fictional genre of 2ndian :iller Ithriller violence with
racial undertonesJ, his closest rivals are &ony
'illerman, 9erald <i$enor, +ickey "pillane, and
"tephen :ing, an acknowledged model, ohn
"teinbeck and the 7rady 7unch tossed in. /'e,s
young,1 says my elder brother back home, /he,ll ripen,
given time.1
- breed "pokane and (oeur d,-lene, not *ust anybody,
but thirteen%sixteenths blood, according to his poetry4
/2 write about the kind of 2ndian 2 am4 kind of mixed
up, kind of odd, not traditional. 2,m a re$ kid who,s
gone urban1 I2ndian -rtistJ. .hat kind of an 2ndian is
this0Ga photogenic black mane of hair, dark%framed
bifocal glasses, high%school class president, bookworm
nose broken six times by bullies Ihe reminiscesJ,
5nglish lit college degree from 5astern .ashington
"tate Iafter passing out as a pre%med student in his
anatomy class, twiceJ. 'is work is wi$ened with poetic
anger, ribald love, and whipsaw humor. &he cra$y%
heart bear is dancing comically, riding a wobbly
unicycle, tossing overripe tomatoes at his audience.
/&his late in the H6th century,1 the poet says in 8ed
7lues, /we still make the unknown ours by destroying
it.1 'is firecat imagination plays tricks on the reader,
for our supposed good, for its own native delight and
survival. /You almost U believe every 2ndian is an
2ndian,1 the poet swears to +ar2on 7rando.
"herman4 not "o much a rhymer in the old sense, as a
circus *uggler .ho can eat apples, he says, while
*uggling. - college graduate who played basketball
sixteen hours a day to keep from boo$ing with his
cronies4 "eymour chugging beer as a poet writes
poetry Iup to the last one that kills youJ and Lester
dead drunk in the convenience store dumpster.
-lexie,s sister and brother%in%law, passed out in a
trailer, died by fire when a window curtain blew
against a hot plate.
&he boy mimed everyone in his family and still won,t
"top talking. /2 was a divisive presence on the
reservation when 2 was seven,1 he told an L- &imes
reporter, 3ecember =F, =>>E. /2 was a weird, eccentric,
very arrogant little boy. &he writing doesn,t change
anybody,s opinion of me.1 #romoting his new movie,
"moke "ignals Icoproduced with (heyenne%-rapaho
director (hris 5yreJ, the writer describes himself today
as /mouthy, opinionated and arrogant,1 a court *ester,s
cross of (aliban, 9roucho +arx, and Lear,s Fool, but
underneath, /2,m a sweetheart1 I3enver #ost, 6ctober
HD, =>>FJ. 'e,s the best native example yet of Lewis
'yde,s wiley hinge%maker, &rickster, the infant #rince
of &hieves, 'ermes stealing into 6lympus to claim
legitimacy4 /.andering aimlessly, stupider than the
animals, he is at once the bungling host and the agile
parasite; he has no way of his own but he is the 9reat
2mitator who adopts the many ways of those around
him. Unconstrained by instinct, he is the author of
endlessly creative and novel deceptions, from hidden
hooks to tracks that are impossible to read.1
-rtistic grist and ironic survival are inseparable in this
verse, tracing a short lifetime of basketball Ia team
captain /ball hog1 in high schoolJ, beer, &<, re$ cars
falling apart, pony dreams, fetal alcohol syndrome
IF-"J babies, and fancy%dancing drunks. /You call it
genocide; 2 call it economics,1 (uster snorts. - warm%
up for fiction and the movies, poetics are wrapped up
in the politics of native poverty , tor!ued metrics, and
ethnic protest4 dime store 2ndi,n princesses and back%
alley vision !uesters, F%== heroes and <ietnam vets,
+arlon 7rando and (ra$y 'orse. No insurance (56 or
village doctor, -lexie has the near fatal, comic bravado
of surviving an everyday re$, where every day is a blow
to the stomach and a bla$e of understanding. 7eing
2ndian means you,re hanging on for dear life, hanging
in there with catastrophic humor, kicking back at
sunset, staggering through the TC> to dawn, laughing
your ass off and on again Ithe short fiction saysJ, and
accepting that bottom line of your neighbor,s butt next
to you, misplaced, displaced, re%relocated into the
present 8ed reality, so real that it hurts. "o unreal in
its hurtful beauty, so surreal that it makes you blink
and smile to see another dawn. /'ow do you explain
the survival of all of us who were never meant to
1+7
survive01 2t,s a long walk from "itting 7ull bearing
/hard times1 to (harlie 7lackbird /surviving.1 -lexie
takes to 2nternet chat rooms for essential defenses of
native sovereignty and intercultural access to -merica,
s power structures, particularly publishing and the
movies.
"o, from +omaday,s visionary form, through .elch,s
shamanic rhythm, here,s a surreal trickster savage in
two%dimensional poetic cartoon. 8ather than close
reading or parsing the lines, his work elicits charged
reaction, critical gut response, positive or negative
argument. 8eading -lexie,s work triggers a recoil from
the shock of 2ndian reality, like looking into the "un
3ance sun, going blind, and slowly regaining sight,
stars and blackspots and sunbursts floating across the
field of perception, so you know it,s your perception,
anyway, at last, of reality4 /whiskey salmon absence,1
the poem /(iti$en :ane1 ends. Firewater, relocation,
vanishing -merican. &he images, concretely charged
as #ound,s <orticist ob*ects, are loaded in
disconnections4 the poison where food swarms,
desperate homing, the absence that starves 2ndians to
death. /8osebud1 is not a child,s movie sled but a
desperately poor "ioux reservation in the 3akotas.
/7ut, 2 mean, 2 really love movies. 2 always have,1
-lexie said in /+aking "moke1 I-boriginal <oices
+ay%une =>>@J. /2 love movies more than 2 love
books, and believe me, 2 love books more than 2 love
every human being, except the do$en or so people in
my life who love movies and books *ust as much as 2
do.1 'is favorite films are +idnight (owboy, &he
9raduate, and -liens. &he writer goes on, /2 mean,
screenplays are more like poetry than like fiction.
"creenplays rely on imagery to carry the narrative,
rather than the other way around. -nd screenplays
have form. Like sonnets, actually. ust as there,s MsicN
expectations of form, meter, and rhyme in a sonnet,
there are the same kinds of expectations for
screenplays.1 &here are two dimensions in -lexie,s
work, screenplay to verse, often no more than two
characters in the short fiction, &he Lone 8anger and
&onto Fistfight in 'eaven. 'is work is mostly
minimalist drama, back to the first 9reek plays, ala$on
to eiron, dreamer to realist, fool to cynic. &oss in
commedia dell,arte, #unch and udy, Laurel and
'ardy, -mos and -ndy, Lewis and +artin, 8ed 8yder
and Little 7eaver. &he embedded third dimension of
this post%holocaustal comedy is cultural landscape, for
lack of a better term, devastated native homestead. "o
a third character might be salvage%surrealist, 6ld +an
absent and implied, as with .elch,s winter%in%the%
blood Na,pi. &he third% dimensional axis then is 2ndi,n
humor, a vanishing point of survival in the canvas of a
hidden spirit world, including &rickster mimics, all
around and behind us. -lexie takes .elch,s foxy
shaman a skitter%step forward to tease +ary -ustin4
/"weetheart, history U doesn,t always look like horses.1
#oetry comes on not so much a text as a comic ruse, a
ra$ored one%liner, a reader,s riff to wake up -merica.
&he world is 2ndian as a coyote magician who makes
every ordinary day a trick of survival, a vanishing act, a
raw *oke. - reader,s breath catches in the throat and
comes out laughing strange, still . . . a breath it is, of
life. 2t gets you going, brothers, and sisters, a bu$$ing,
rattling, weeping, yipping imagination. (ry so hard
you begin to laugh4 run so fast you lap your shadow4
dream so hard you can,t sleep4 think so hard you
startle awake like a child. /+aia gave birth to a wily
boy,1 the 'omeric hymn begins, /flattering and
cunning, a robber and cattle thief, a bringer of dreams,
awake all night, waiting by the gates of the cityG
'ermes, who was soon to earn himself !uite a
reputation among the gods, who do not die.1 (rossing
9insberg with (reeley, 'ughes,s (row with
7erryrnan,s +istah 7ones, -lexie brews a homeboy
devil,s own humor. &he voice makes *unkyard poetry
out of broke%down reality, vision out of delirium
tremens, prayer out of laughter. /.hen my father first
smiled,1 the poet recalls, /it scared the shit out of
me.1 . . .
2ndi,n vaudeville, then, stand%up comedy on the edge
of despair; - late%twentieth%century, !uasi%visionary
clown tells the truth that hurts and heals in one%liners
cheesy as the +arx 7rothers, trenchant as Lenny
7ruce, tricky as (harlie 'ill,s 72- 'alloween /&rick or
&reaty.1 &he, stand%up poet marvels in dismay,
/2magine (oyote accepts U the 6scar for lifetime
achievement.1 &here,s an old trickster%teacher role
here in a young 2ndian,s hands%*okes draw the line, cut
to the !uick, sling the bull, open the talk. /.hite +en
(an,t 3rum,1 -lexie announced in 5s!uire +aga$ine,
6ctober =>>H, roasting the new%age men,s movement,
all the .annabe fuss and fustian.
/'ow do you explain the survival of all of us who were
never meant to survive01 asks the verse straight man.
/&here is nothing we cannot survive,1 the poet swears.
"urviving war is the premise. 2n &he "ummer of 7lack
.idows I=>>EJ, -lexie,s sixth poetry collection in as
many years Icomposing by computerJ, /Father and
Farther1 Ialso performed on the rock cassette,
8eservation 7luesJ recalls a drunken basketball coach
and a losing team. /Listen,1 his father slurs, /2 was a
paratrooper in the war.1
/.hich war0 / the boy%poet asks.
/-ll of them,1 he said. Wuincentennial facts4 Native
-mericans as a composite are the only in%country
ethnic group that the U.". has declared war against,
=@ED%=@>D. "ome existing ?ED reservations, K=? in the
lower forty%eight states, are natively seen from inside
as occupied #6. camps. &hink of it as the delayed
stress of contemporary 2ndian -merica4 the post%
traumatic shock of surviving (olumbus to (otton
+ather, 7uffalo 7ill (ody to -ndy ackson, (hivington
to (uster. /9oddamn,1 the general says, again and
again, /saber is a beautiful word,1 in ironic cut against
-uden,s penchant for /scissors.1 .orld .ar 2 2ndian
1+*
volunteers, as cited, gained Native -mericans dual
citi$enship in =>HC. (ode &alkers in .orld .ar 22
made natives national heroes. :orea, <ietnam, and
3esert "torm, s chemical poisoning brought tribal
veterans into millennial terror.
2n =>>K, the U(2.- -merican 2ndian "tudies (enter
published 6ld "hins Y New "kins as no. > in the
Native -merican #oetry "eries. 6ld shirts, not stuffed
new suits4 new Tskins, 8edskins reborn, sloughing
/old1 skins. &here are always two sides to things,
bicultural ironies to new%age lies, Y the /blessed
ampersand,1 hip shorthand to a coded new tongue, the
with%it 2ndi,n poet. &here,s no text /set1 here as such,
but more a radical riff, something spilled over, a virus,
a toxin released, a metastasi$ing anger. 2t,s a
/reservation of my mind,1 the poet says. &he opening
epithet e!uates, /-nger x 2magination f poetry,1 in the
amplitude Y invention of the angry young 2ndian. 6ne
shot short of death, "eymour says, drink as you write
free verse, no matter if /our failures are spectacular.1
+averick &rixter talks back, makes a different kind of
poetry for people with differences4 /it was not written
for the white literary establishment,1 -drian Louis
says in the foreword to 6ld "kins Y New "hins.
- double buckskin language frays the edges of
bicultural -merica, !uestions the multiple meanings
of reservation, red, risk, (ody Y (ra$y 'orse, +arlon
7rando Y ohn .ayne, (hrist Y (uster, who died for
your sins. &he critic is left with notes to bumper%
sticker poetics, insult Y antagonism, the fractious
come%hither. #oetry as disruptive tease, a sideshow of
historical truth Y poetic hyperbole. 6r, to borrow from
the social sciences, /privileged license14 tribal teasing
tests boundaries, deepens resilience, insures survival,
bets on renewal. Not without the warrior history of
6ld 5nglish insults, flytyngs, hurled across a river a
thousand years ago in /&he 7attle of+aldon.1 L-
"outh (entral 7lacks doin, the do$ens, Yer granmother
wears combat bootsL &he Last #oets in 'arlem chant,
Niggers like to fuck each other. . . . 5l #aso 'ispanics
drive slow Tn low riders. 2nventories of abuses,
imagined Y otherwise4 hunger of imagination, poverty
of memory, toxicity of history, all in the face of cultural
genocide and racial misrepresentation and out%right
extermination, to challenge musty stereotypes of
vanishing, savage, stoic, silent, shamanic, stuperous
2ndians. #oetry is never bread enough Y doesn,t pay
the bills, /damned from beginning to end,1 .illiams
says. .ho could !uibble aesthetics in this setting0
money is free if you Tre poor enough
-re there any connections with canonical -merican
poetry0 "tart with Langston 'ughes,s essentialist
pride in the 'arlem 8enaissance, /2, too, sing
-merica,1 not *ust .alt .hitman fingering leaves of
grass, or (arl "andburg shouldering (hicago. -llen
9insberg howled his native place in the =>?Ds4 the
marginali$ed, dispossessed, discriminated, hipster,
homosexual, ewish, offbeat antihero. 2t,s an old
revolutionary -merican motif, the lost found, the last
first, the underdog bites back. "ylvia #lath,s rage and
exhibitionist daring to die for us as Lady La$arus4 /6ut
of the ash U 2 rise with my red hair U -nd 2 eat men like
air.1 &ed 8oethke,s lost%son, lyric blues4 /&hrum%
thrum, who can be e!ual to ease0 U 2,ve seen my
father,s face before U 3eep in the belly of a thing to be.1
ohn 7erryman,s brilliant mad comic pain4 /&hese
songs were not meant to be understood, you
understand, U &hey were meant to terrify Y comfort. U
Lilac was found in his hand.1
- kind of 2ndian antipoetry breaks form at the
millennial end. -lexie pushes against formalist
assumptions of what poetry ought to be, knocks down
aesthetic barriers set up in xenophobic academic
corridors, and rebounds as cultural performance. 'e
can play techni!ue with mock sonnet, bree$y villanelle,
unheroic couplet, tinkling tercet, !uaky !uatrain in
any%beat lines. &he rhymer trades on surreal images
and throwaway metaphors in a drunken villanelle4
&rail of &ears . . . trail of beers. &he rush of his poems
is an energy released, stampeding horses, raging fires,
stomping shoes4 the poet as fast Y loose sharpster in
accretive repetition. -lexie likes catalogues, anaphoral
first%word repetitions, the accumulative power of oral
traditions. &here is something freeing about all thisG
free to imagine, to improvise, to make things up, to
wonder, to rage on. "harpening wits on !uick wit, his
poetry runs free of restrictive ideas about 2ndians,
poems, ponies, movies, shoes, dreams, dumpsters,
reservations, angers, losses. 'is lines break free of
precious art . . . but free for what, that matters0 3o we
care0 the hard !uestions come tumbling. 3o we
remember, or listen closely, or think carefully, or
wonder fully, or regard deeply enough0
8eaders certainly learn about New 8e$ 2ndi,ns who
shoot hoop, stroke pool, fancy dance, drink beer, snag
girls, hustle, hitch, rap, *oke, cry, rhyme, dream, write
everything down. &hese (omputer 8ad T"kins write
verse that does not stay contained in formal repose4
does not pull away, or shimmer in the night sky, or
intimidate the common reader, but comes on full as a
poetry that begs visceral response. 6ften cartoonish, a
gag, a point%of%view gimmick, more /like1 <irtual
lndian. /&here is no possible way to sell your soul1 for
poetry, -lexie said in L- I3ecember =F, =>>EJ,
/because nobody,s offering. &he devil doesn,t care
about poetry. No one wants to make a movie out of a
poem.1 &his trickster has made one movie, as
mentioned, and cast another from 2ndian :iller.
(all it a reactive aesthetics, kinetic pop art, protest
poetics to involve and challenge late%century readersG
ca*oled, battered, insulted, entertained, humored,
angered to respond. - poetry that gets us up off our
easy chairs. &ribal *ive, that is, streetsmart, populist,
ethnocentric, edged, opinionated, disturbed, fired up
as reservation graffiti, a la ohn &rudell,s <enice,
(alifornia, rock lyrics, a (herokee%breed 5lvis as /7aby
7oom (he.1 -lexie *oins the brash, frontier
1++
braggadocio of westering -merica, already out west a
long time, ironically, a tradition in itself, shared with
.hitman, Lawrence, "tein, +ailer, :esey, :erouac,
9insberg, <onnegut, 7ellow, 'einemann, +amet.
'uckster, con man, carny barker, stand%up comedian,
.ill 8ogers to onathan .inters, (heech Y (hong to
(harlie 'ill. &he impudence of the anti%poetic 8ed
8apster, daring us not to call this poetry. /2,m not a
rapper,1 8ussell +eans crows of his punk album,
5lectric .arrior, /2,m a 8apahoL1
/You,ll almost U believe every 2ndian is an 2ndian,1
-lexie carries on.
Frybread . . . "nakes . . . Forgiveness
5xcerpted from a longer essay, /Futuristic 'ip 2ndian4
-lexie.1 From "ing .ith the 'eart of a 7ear4 Fusions
of Native and -merican #oetry, =@>D%=>>>.
7erkeley4 University of (alifornia #ress, HDDD.
(opyright e HDDD by &he 7oard of 8egents of the
University of (alifornia.
General Commentary $y Sherman /le%ie
/le%ie on his oetic insiration
/M-lex :uo,s poetry workshopN was the first place 2
ever read contemporary poems, especially
contemporary -merican 2ndian poems. -nd 2 read one
poem in particular that was revolutionary and
revelatory. &he line was, T2,m in the resrvation of my
mind., 2t was by -drian Louis, a #aiute 2ndian poet.
For me, that was like, T2n the beginning . . ., 2t was ,
T7ecause 2 could not stop for death, death kindly
stopped for me . . ., 2t was T 2 sing the body electric . . .,
2t was all that and more. 2t was the first line 2 ever read
in any work, any fiction anywhere that ever applied to
something 2 knew. Literally, it was this flash of
lightning, roll of thunder, 7ert #arks parking, 7ob
7arker barking, where 2 understood everything that 2
ever wanted to be. -t that moment. .hen 2 read that
line. 2t was really like that, like a light switch. -nd at
that moment 2 knew 2 wanted to be a writer.1
from 7ob 2vry, /From the 8eservation of 'is +ind.1
7ergen 8ecord H@ une =>>@.
http4UUwww.bergen.comUyourtimeUytsmoke=>>@DEH@
H.htm
/le%ie on Poetry M2nterview with &homson
'ighwayN
I".-.J 2 started writing because 2 kept fainting in
human anatomy class and needed a career change. &he
only class that fit where the human anatomy class had
been was a poetry writing workshop. 2 always liked
poetry. 2,d never heard of, or nobody,d ever showed
me, a book written by a First Nations person, ever. 2
got into the class, and my professor, -lex :MuNo, gave
me an anthology of contemporary Native -merican
poetry called "ongs From &his 5arth on &urtle,s 7ack.
2 opened it up and%%oh my gosh%%2 saw my life in
poems and stories for the very first time.
I&.'.J .ho were some of the writers in the book0
I".-.J Linda 'ogan, "imon 6rti$, oy 'ar*o, ames
.elch, -drian Lewis. &here were poems about
reservation life4 fry bread, bannock, C>,s, fried
baloney, government food and terrible housing. 7ut
there was also *oy and happiness. &here,s a line by a
#aiute poet named -drian Lewis that says, /6h, Uncle
-drian, 2,m in the reservation of my mind.1 2 thought,
/6h my 9od, somebody understand meL4 -t that
moment 2 reali$ed, /2 can do thisL1 &hat,s when 2
started writing%%in =>@>.
I&.'.J &he poetry that you would have studied in
-merican "tudies, for instance, the poetry of .allace
"tevens or e.e. cummings or 5mily 3ickinson never
influenced you at all0
I".-.J 6f course it did. 2 loved that stuff. 2 still love it.
.alt .hitman and 5mily 3ickinson are two of my
favorites. .allace "tevens leaves me kind of dry, but
the other poets, they,re still a primary influence. 2
always tell people my literary influences are "tephen
:ing, ohn "teinbeck, and my mother, my grandfather
and the 7rady 7unch.
I&.'.J &hen you moved on to short stories.
I".-.J 2,d written a couple of them in college. -fter my
first book of poems, &he 7usiness of Fancy 3ancing,
was published by 'anging Loose #ress in 7rooklyn,
New York, 2 got a great New York &imes book review.
&he review called me /one of the ma*or lyric voices of
our time.1 2 was a H?%year old "pokane 2ndian guy
working as a secretary at a high school exchange
program in "pokane, .ashington when my poetry
editor faxed that review to me. 2 pulled it out of the fax
machine beside my desk and read, /...one of the ma*or
lyric voices of our time.1 2 thought, /9reatL .here do 2
go from hereL01 -fter that, the agents started calling
me.
I&.'.J .here did the book of poetry come from0
I".-.J 2t was my first semester poetry manuscript. #art
of the assignment was to submit to literary maga$ines.
&he one 2 liked in the .ashington "tate library was
'anging Loose maga$ine. 2 liked that it started the
same year 2 was born. &he maga$ine, the press and 2
are the same age. 6ver the next year and a half they
kept taking poems of mine to publish. &hen they asked
if 2 had a manuscript. 2 said, /YesL1 and sent it in.
2t was a thousand copies. 2 figured 2,d sell a hundred
and fifty to my family. +y mom would buy a hundred
2,,
herself and that would be about it. 7ut, it took off. 2
never expected it. "ometimes 2 think it would have
been nicer if it had not been as big, because my career
has been a rocket ride. &here,s a lot of pressure.
from &homson 'ighway, /"pokane .ords4 -n
2nterview with "herman -lexie1
http4UU*upiter.lang.osaka%u.ac.*pU[krkvlsUsalexie.html
/le%ie on Heroes
2,ve always been picky about heroes. Like most
-merican males, 2,ve always admired athletes,
particularly basketball players. 2 admired ulius
5rving and :areem -bdul%abbar not only for their
athletic abilities, but for who they seemed to be off the
court. &hey seemed to be spiritual, compassionate, and
gracious people. Neither has done nor said anything
over the years to contradict my image of them.
Unlike many -merican males, 2 always admired
writers as much as 2 admired athletes. 2 loved books
and the people who wrote books. ohn "teinbeck was
one of my earliest heroes because he wrote about the
poor. "tephen :ing became a hero because he wrote so
well of misfit kids, the nerds and geeks. 9rowing up on
my reservation, 2 was a poor geek, so 2 had obvious
reasons to love "teinbeck and :ing. 2 still love their
novels, but 2 have no idea if they wereUare spiritual,
compassionate, and gracious men. &here is so much
spirit, compassion, and grace in their work, 2 want to
assume that "teinbeck and :ing wereUare good people.
2 would be terribly disappointed to find out
otherwise. . . .
+ost of my heroes are *ust decent people. 3ecency is
rare and underrated. 2 think my writing is somehow
*ust about decency. "till, if 2 was keeping score, and 2
like to keep score, 2 would say the villains in the world
are way ahead of the heroes. 2 hope my writing can
help even the score.
from Laura 7aratto, /6n &our4 .riters on the 8oad
with New 7ooks.1 'ungry +ind 8eview "ummer =>>?4
HH.
http4UUwww.bookwire.comUhmrU8eviewUhtour.html
/le%ie on Indian Literature
8eflecting oral storytelling traditions, in which
repetition exists not for memori$ation but to deepen
meaning with each iteration, -lexie,s writing returns
to certain themes, such as the fire that killed his sister
and brother%in%law. 2n his most recent collection of
poetry, &he "ummer of 7lack .idows I'anging Loose
#ress, =>>EJ, one section is entitles /"ister Fire,
7rother "moke.1 . . .
.hen asked why he made the switch from poetry to
prose, from short stories to novels, from writing to
film, -lexie immediately responds with two answers4
sales and access. Novels and film pay the bills better
than poetry, and with the broader sales he can get his
work out to more people, particularly 2ndian youth. . . .
/-s 2 have been working with the film,1 -lexie says,
/2,ve come to reali$e sitting in a movie theater is the
contemporary e!uivalent of sitting around the fire
listening to a storyteller. . . . -nd because of this,
2ndian peoples, all peoples, will respond more
powerfully to movies than to books.1 . . .
-nother of -lexie,s concerns is that 2ndian literatures
are erroneously assumed by non%2ndian readers to
represent social and historical realities in ways that
other readers do not. .hen readers, expectations take
an anthropological turn, writers are put in the
awkward position of being expected to represent their
tribes, communities, and Native -merica. /+ost of us
M2ndian writersN are outcasts,1 -lexie says. /.e don,t
really fit within the 2ndian community, so we write to
try to fit in and sound 2ndian. "o it,s ironic that we
become spokespeople for 2ndian country, that we are
supposed to be representative of our tribes.1 . . .
.hat does -lexie want to see within the ranks of
2ndian writers0 /2 want us to write about the way we
live.1 'e wants 2ndian writers to write from their own
lived experiences, not some nostalgic and
romantici$ed notion of what it means to be 2ndian.
/.hen 2 see words like the (reator, Father "ky,
+other 5arth, Four Legends, 2 almost feel like we,re
coloni$ing ourselves. &hese words, this is how we,re
supposed to talkGwhat it means to be 2ndian in white
-merica. 7ut it,s not who we really are; it,s not what it
means to be Nava*o or "pokane or (our d,-lene.1
from "usan 7erry 7rill de 8amire$, /Fancy 3ancer4 -
#rofile of "herman -lexie.1 #oets and .riters
anuaryUFebruary =>>>4 ?C%?>.
/le%ie on
the Resonsi$ilities o! 1ati'e #riters
5:4 .ould you speak to what you see as our
responsibility is as Native .riters0 3o you see that
responsibility restrictingUconstricting certain avenues
of creativity0
"-4 .e do have a cultural responsibility above and
beyond what other people do, more than other ethnic
group, simply because we are so misrepresented and
misunderstood and appropriated. .e have a serious
2,1
responsibility to tell the truth. -nd to act as . . . role
models. .e are more than *ust writers. .e are
storytellers. .e are spokespeople, .e are cultural
ambassadors. .e are politicians. .e are activists. .e
are all of these simply by nature of what we do,
without even wanting to be. "o we,re not like these
other writers who can *ust pick up and choose their
expressions. &hey,ve chosen for us , and we have to be
aware of that. 2 also think that we have a responsibility
to live up to our words. -s Native writers, we certainly
talk the talk about the things that everybody should
do, but if you,re going to write about racism, 2 don,t
think you should be a racist.
2f you,re going to write about sexism and exploitation,
then 2 don,t think you should be a sleeping around. 2f
you,re going to write about violence and colonialism,
then 2 don,t think you should be doing it to your own
family. "o, 2 think we have a serious responsibility as
Native writers to live traditionally in a contemporary
world. -nd 2 don,t think that a lot of us do.
5:4 .hat do you think prevents us from doing that0
"-4 - lot of it is our own dysfunctions. .hile we may
have more responsibilities because of what we do, that
does not automatically make us healthy. #art of the
danger in being an artist of whatever color is that you
fall in love with your wrinkles. &he danger is that if
you fall in love with your wrinkles then you don,t want
to get rid of them. You start to glorify them and
perpetuate them. 2f you write about pain, you can end
up searching for more pain to write about, that kind of
thing; that self%destructive route. .e need to get away
from that. .e can write about pain and anger without
having it consume us, and we have to learn how to do
that in our lives as individuals before we can start
doing that as writers.
from 5. :. (aldwell, /2nterview4 "herman -lexie.1
Selected Critical .%certs on Sherman
/le%ie
Susan Berry Brill de Ramirez
-lexie,s poems and stories in First 2ndian on the +oon
embrace both discursive and conversive styles in a
con*unction that is inevitably dis*unctive,
disconcerting, and effective in communicating his
worlds and words. -lexie . . . writes in a powerful voice
that speaks of the realities of worlds that continually
push each other to the point of discursive and actual
implosion. .hether the results are burning cars, a
trailer fire, alcoholism, domestic or racial violence,
smallpox blankets, broken treaties, or human
alienation, the process is always the same4 &he clash of
worlds that rarely gives more than temporary Iand in
fact illusoryJ respite from the unfulfilled dreams and
lived pain that is on either side of the divide. . . .
&hroughout -lexie,s writing, he displays a critically
discursive stance against virtually anyone and
anything. &his is an e!ual opportunity anger that
perceives both the weaknesses and failures of both
2ndian and white worlds. . . . -lexie lives and writes on
the interstices between the divergent stories of both
worlds, what he refers to as /the in%between U between
tipi and 'U3 house U between magic and loss1 ICKJ. . .
.
-nd yet, the interstice is not only a place of pain and
anguish, but also a place in which lives are born and
lived with *oy as well as pain. .hen human lives come
together in the loves and *oys of fancydancers,
basketball player, and lovers, then the conversive
magic of human interrelationships transforms the
interstice into the here and now as meaningful as
any. . . . &he reservation dreams of fancydancers and
basketball players are the same dreams of all human
beings trapped within the discursive lies of
oppositional relations, relative IinJ significance,
sub*ective power, and ob*ective weakness. . . . &he
dreams of treaties that won,t be broken, the dreams of
loves that will mend the torn weavings of broken
relationships and families, the dreams of the
conversive power of myth, all these survive even
beyond the pain of loss. . . .
from "usan 7erry 7rill de 8amire$, (ontemporary
-merican 2ndian Literatures Y the 6ral &radition.
&ucson4 University of -ri$ona #ress, =>>>. =>D%>K.
Ron McFarland
&here is a combativeness that distinguishes -lexie,s
often polemical poems, for he is, in a way, at war. 2n
most of his writing, sooner or later, -lexie is a
/polemicist,1 which is to say, a /warrior,1 and there is
nearly always controversy and argument, implied or
direct, in his poems and stories. . . . /3o you ever
worry about anger becoming a negative force01 the
7ellante brothers asked Min a 7loomsbury 8eview
interviewN. (iting 9andhi, -lexie answered that anger
2,2
could be a positive force4 /-nger without hope, anger
without love, or anger without compassion are
allconsuming. &hat,s not my kind of anger. +ine is
very specific and directed.1 . . .
&he 2ndians in -lexie,s poems do not speak with raven
spirits or go on vision !uests. &hey are not haunted by
spirit animals . . . and they are not visited by :achina
spirits. . . . 2n fact, it is more appropriate to think of
them in psychological rather than spiritual terms.
&hey have been uprooted from the animistic world. . . .
&he power of -lexie,s poems comes from the world at
hand. . . .
-lexie,s other collections of poetry are even more
problematic with respect to form Iand he is a very
conscious, though only rarely conventional, formalistJ.
&he forty%two items that make up &he 7usiness of
Fancydancing Icounting the four /2ndian 7oy Love
"ongs1 as one poem, as it is listed in the contentsJ
comprise twenty%eight poems and fourteen prose
pieces, one of which is a nine%page story and eight of
which run *ust a paragraph and could be considered
prose poems, though 2 am inclined to regard them as
sudden fiction. 6ld "hirts Y New "kins consists of fifty
items, as many as forty of which are obviously poems.
7ut is /"napping the Fringe1 a prose piece consisting
of about thirteen very short paragraphs, or a poem
consisting of almost thirty lines Idepending on the
formatJ and using indentation in favor of stan$a
breaks0 -lthough mixed genres like /prose poetry1
always leave me feeling a bit uneasy, 2 am inclined to
think it is his best effort in that mode. 6ld "hirts Y
New "kins, then, including such conventional forms as
the sestina I/&he Naming of 2ndian 7oys1J and the
villanelle I/#oem1J, is the closest -lexie has come so
far Mprior to =>>EN to a book made up of poems alone. .
. .
2n /"plit 3ecisions1 . . . -lexie employs a sort of
/round1 form which he also uses in several stories,
including /+y 'eroes 'ave Never 7een (owboys.1 2n
this form a word or phrase in the last line of one
section or stan$a is repeated somewhere in the first
line of the next, and at the end of the poem a key word
or phrase is echoed from the first line so that the effect
is circular. 2n /"plit 3ecisions1 -lexie blends the free
verse line with prose sections . . . Mso thatN poetry and
prose, line and sentence, appear to move toward each
other. . . .
.hen he was asked by the interviewers for
7loomsbury 8eview if the transition from poet to
writer of fiction was difficult for him, -lexie answered
that it was not difficult, that /my poems are stories.
&here,s a very strong narrative drive in all my
poetry.1 . . . -s the interviewers noted from the outset,
-lexie is /a storyteller MwithN an unmistakable poetic
streak.1 'is powers as a poet are primarily narrative,
and after that rhetorical, and with that, perhaps as a
sub%species, polemical. . . .
-lexie,s is a rhetoric, whether in his poems or in his
fiction, that reflects pain and anger, a rhetoric that
could give way to bitterness. .hat keeps that from
happening and makes the pain and anger bearable for
the reader . . . is not so much the hope, love, and
compassion to which he refers in the interview, but
humor. #redictably, this humor is rarely gentle or
playful Ithough it can be that at timesJ, but most often
satirical. . . .
-lexie,s poems are filled with such moments of painful
or poignant humor which may be described as
/serious1 or /dark.1 . . . &he impact is not so much like
the escape or release offered by comedy as the
catharsis provided by tragedy.
from 8on +cFarland, /T-nother :ind of <iolence,4
"herman -lexie,s #oems.1 -merican 2ndian Wuarterly
H=.H I"pring =>>FJ4 H?=%EC.
2,3
1;
(andra Cisneros
The House on Mango
(treet
The House on Mango
(treet
.e didnAt always live on +ango "treet, teefore that we
lived on Loomis on the third floor, and before that we
lived on :eeler. 7efore :eeler it was #aulina, and
before that 2 canAt remember. 7ut what 2 remem(er
most is moin! a lot. 3ach time it seemed there$d (e
one more o& us. By the time #e !ot to Man!o 8treet
#e #ere sixEMama/ :a%a/ Carlos/ 9i2i/ my sister
4enny and me.
The house on Man!o 8treet is ours/ and #e don$t
hae to %ay rent to any(ody/ or share the yard #ith the
%eo%le do#nstairs/ or (e care&ul not to ma2e too much
noise/ and there isn$t a landlord (an!in! on the ceilin!
#ith a (room. But een so/ it$s not the house #e$d
thou!ht #e$d !et.
.e had to leave the flat on Loomis !uick. &he
water pipes broke and the landlord wouldnAt fix them
because the house was too old. .e had to leave fast.
.e were using the washroom next door and carrying
water over in empty milk gallons. &hatAs why +ama
and #apa looked for a house, and thatAs why we moved
into the house on +ango "treet, far away, on the other
side of town.
&hey always told us that one day we would move
into a house, a real house that would be ours for
always so we wouldnAt have to move each year. -nd
our house would have running water and pipes that
worked. -nd inside it would have real stairs, not
hallway stairs, but stairs inside like the houses on &.<.
-nd weAd have a basement and at least three
washrooms so when we took a bath we wouldnAt have
to tell everybody. 6ur house would be white with trees
around it, a great big yard and grass growing without a
fence. &his was the house #apa talked about when he
held a lottery dckefand this was the house +ama
dreamed up in the stories sfie told us before we went
to bed.
7ut the house on +ango "treet is not the way
they told it at all. 2tAs small and red with tight steps in
front and windows so small youAd think they were
holding their breath. 7ricks are crumbling in places,
and the front door is so swollen you have to push hard
to get in. &here is no front yard, only four litde elms
the city planted by the curb. 6ut back is a small garage
for the car we donAt own yet and a small yard0that
looks smaller between the two buildings on either side.
&here are stairs in our house, but theyAre ordinary
hallway stairs, and the house has only one washroom.
5verybody has to share a bedroomEMama and :a%a/
Carlos and 9i2i/ me and 4enny.
7nce #hen #e #ere liin! on .oomis/ a nun
&rom my school %assed (y and sa# me %layin! out
&ront. The laundromat do#nstairs had (een (oarded u%
(ecause it had (een ro((ed t#o days (e&ore and the
o#ner had %ainted on the #ood H38 53$<3 7:34 so
as not to lose (usiness.
5here do you lieG she as2ed.
There/ 6 said %ointin! u% to the third &loor.
Hou lie there5
There. 2 had to look to where she pointedGthe
third floor, the paint peeling, wooden bars #apa had
nailed on the windows so we wouldnAt fall out. You live
thereH &he way she said it made me feel like nothing.
There. 2 lived there. 6 nodded.
6 2ne# then 6 had to hae a house. 1 real house.
7ne 6 could %oint to. But this isn$t it. The house on
Man!o 8treet isn$t it. For the time (ein!/ Mama says.
2,4
Tem%orary/ says :a%a. But 6 2no# ho# those thin!s
!o.
1nd all 6 hear is the cla%%in! #hen the music
sto%s. My uncle and me (o# and he #al2s me (ac2 in
my thic2 shoes to my mother #ho is %roud to (e my
mother. 1ll ni!ht the (oy #ho is a man #atches me
dance. 0e #atched me dance.
His
7 lie coffee, 7 lie tea.
7 lie the *oys and the *oys lie me.
Yes, no, may*e so. Yes, no, may*e so . . .
6ne day you wake up and they are there. 8eady
and waiting like a new 7uick with the keys in the
ignition. 8eady to take you where0
&heyAre good for holding a baby when youAre
cooking, 8achel says, turning the *ump rope a little
!uicker. "he has no imagination.
You need them to dance, says Lucy.
2f you donAt get them you may turn into a man.
Nenny says this and she believes it. "he is this way
because of her age.
&hatAs right, 2 add before Lucy or 8achel can
make fun of her. "he is stupid alright, but she is my
sister.
7ut most important, hips are scientific, 2 say
repeating what -licia already told me. 2tAs the bones
that let you know which skeleton was a manAs when it
was a man and which a womanAs.
&hey bloom like roses, 2 continue because itAs
obvious 2Am the only one who can speak with any
authority; 2 have science on my side. &he bones *ust
one day open. ust like that. 6ne day you might decide
to hae 2ids/ and then #here are you !oin! to %ut
themG Got to hae room. Bones !ot to !ie.
But don$t hae too many or your (ehind #ill
s%read. That$s ho# it is/ says <achel #hose mama is as
#ide as a (oat. 1nd #e >ust lau!h.
5hat 6$m sayin! is #ho here is readyG Hou !otta
(e a(le to 2no# #hat to do #ith hi%s #hen you !et
them/ 6 say ma2in! it u% as 6 !o. Hou !otta 2no# ho#
to #al2 #ith hi%s/ %ractice you 2no#Eli2e i& hal& o&
you #anted to !o one #ay and the other hal& the other.
That$s to lulla(y it/ 4enny says/ that$s to roc2 the
(a(y aslee% inside you. 1nd then she (e!ins sin!in!
%ea%hell%, copper 'ell%, eevy, ivy, o6ver!
2Am about to tell her thatAs the dumbest thing 2Ave
ever heard, but the more 2 think about it. . .
You gott;a get the rhythm, and Lucy begins to
dance. "he has the idea, though sheAs having trouble
keeping her end of the double%dutch steady.
2tAs gotta be *ust so, 2 say. Not too fast and not
too slow. Not too fast and not too slow.
.e slow the double circles down to a certain
speed so 8achel who has *ust *umped in can practice
shaking it.
2 want to shake like hoochi%coochie, Lucy says.
"he is cra$y.
2 want to move like heebie%*eebie, 2 say picking
up on the cue.
2 want to be &ahiti. 6r meren"ue! 7r electricity.
7r tem'le7ue8
Yes, tem'le7ue! That$s a !ood one. 1nd then it$s
<achel #ho starts it'
#i&, si&,
snae in your hi&s.
Wiggle around
and *rea your li&.
Lucy waits a minute before her turn. "he is
thinking. &hen she begins4
The waitress with the *ig fat hi&s
who &ays the rent with ta;i ti&s . . .
says no*ody in town will iss her on the li&s
*ecause . . .
*ecause she loos lie -hristo&her -olum*us5
Yes, no, may*e so. Yes, no, may*e so. ,
"he misses on maybe so. 2 take a little while
before my turn, take a breath, and dive in4
#ome are sinny lie chicen li&s.
#ome are *aggy lie soggy BandD"ids
after you get out of the *athtu*.
7 don/t care what ind 7 get.
<ust as long as 7 get hi&s.
5verybody getting into it now except Nenny who
is still humming not a girl, not a *oy, ,ust a little
*a*y. 8he$s li2e that.
5hen the t#o arcs o%en #ide li2e >a#s 4enny
>um%s in across &rom me/ the ro%e tic2Ctic2in!/ the
little !old earrin!s our mama !ae her &or her First
0oly Communion (ouncin!. 8he is the color o& a (ar
o& na%htha laundry soa%/ she isli2e the little (ro#n
%iece le&t at the end o& the #ash/ the hard little (one/
my sister. 0er mouth o%ens. 8he (e!ins'
My mother and your mother were wa%hin" clothe%!
My mother punched your mother ri"ht in the no%e!
)hat color 'lood came out5
Not that old song, 2 say. You gotta use your own
song. +ake it up, you know0 7ut she doesnAt get it or
wonAt. 2tAs hard to say which. &he rope turning,
turning, turning.
Engine, engine num*er nine,
running down -hicago line.
7f the train runs off the trac
do you want your money *ac1H
3o you want your ,-329 'ac+5
9e%, no, may'e %o! 9e%, no, may'e %o ! ! !
2 can tell Lucy and 8achel are disgusted, but
they donAt say anything because sheAs my sister.
Yes, no, may*e so. Yes, no, may*e so . . .
2,5
Nenny, 2 say, but she doesnAt hear me. "he is too
many light%years awgiy. "he is in a world we donAt
belong to anymore. Nenny 2 9oing. 9oing.
YDED# s&ells yes and out you "o8
The First <o$
2t wasnAt as if 2 didnAt want to work. 2 did. 2 had
even gone to the social security office the month be&ore
to !et my social security num(er. 6 needed money.
The Catholic hi!h school cost a lot/ and :a%a said
no(ody #ent to %u(lic school unless you #anted to
turn out (ad.
6 thou!ht 6$d &ind an easy >o(/ the 2ind other 2ids
had/ #or2in! in the dime store or may(e a hotdo!
stand. 1nd thou!h 6 hadn$t started loo2in! yet/ 6
thou!ht 6 mi!ht the #ee2 a&ter next. But #hen 6 came
home that a&ternoon/ all #et (ecause Tito had %ushed
me into the o%en #ater hydrantEonly 6 had sort o& let
himEMama called me in the 2itchen (e&ore 6 could
een !o and chan!e/ and 1unt .ala #as sittin! there
drin2in! her co&&ee #ith a s%oon. 1unt .ala said she
had &ound a >o( &or me at the :eter :an :hoto
Finishers on 4orth Broad#ay #here she #or2ed/
and2ho# old #as 6/ and to sho# u% tomorro# sayin! 6
#as one year older/ and that #as that.
8o the next mornin! 6 %ut on the nay (lue dress
that made me loo2 older and (orro#ed money &or
lunch and (us &are (ecause 1unt .ala said 6 #ouldn$t
!et %aid till the next Friday/ and 6 #ent in and sa# the
(oss o& the :eter :an :hoto Finishers on 4orth
Broad#ay #here 1unt .ala #or2ed and lied a(out my
a!e li2e she told me to and sure enou!h/ 6 started that
same day.
6n my >o( 6 had to #ear #hite !loes. 6 #as
su%%osed to match ne!aties #ith their %rints/ >ust
loo2 at the %icture and loo2 &or the same one on the
ne!atie stri%/ %ut it in the enelo%e/ and do the next
one. That$s all. 6 didn$t 2no# #here these enelo%es
#ere comin! &rom or #here they #ere !oin!Ml>ust did
#hat 6 #as told.
6t #as real easy/ and 6 !uess 6 #ouldn$t hae
minded it exce%t thatryou !ot tired a&ter a #hile and 6
didn$t 2no# i& 6 could sit do#n or not/ and then 6
started sittin! do#n only #hen the t#o ladies next to
me did. 1&ter a #hile they started to lau!h and came
u% to me and said 6 could sit #hen 6 #anted to/ and 6
said 6 2ne#.
5hen lunchtime came/ 6 #as scared to eat alone
in the com%any lunchroom #ith all those men and
ladies loo2in!/ so 6 ate real &ast standin! in one o& the
#ashroom stalls and had lots o& time le&t oer/ so 6
#ent (ac2 to #or2 early. But then (rea2 time came/
and not 2no#in! #here else to !o/ 6 #ent into the
coatroom (ecause there #as a (ench there.
6 !uess it #as the time &or the ni!ht shi&t or
middle shi&t to arrie (ecause a &e# %eo%le came in
and %unched the time cloc2/ and an older 7riental man
said hello and #e tal2ed &or a #hile a(out my >ust
startin!/ and he said #e could (e &riends and next time
to !o in the lunchroom and sit #ith him/ and 6 &elt
(etter. 0e had nice eyes and 6 didn$t &eel so nerous
anymore. Then he as2ed i& 6 2ne# #hat day it #as/
and #hen 6 said 6 didn$t/ he said it #as his (irthday and
#ould 6 %lease !ie him a (irthday 2iss. 6 thou!ht 6
#ould (ecause he #as so old and >ust as 6 #as a(out to
%ut my li%s on his chee2/ he !ra(s my &ace #ith (oth
hands and 2isses me hard on the mouth and doesn$t let
!o.
1o Seak .nglish
Mamacita is the big mama of the man across the
street, third%floor front. 8achel says her name ought to
be MaDmasota, but 2 think thatAs mean.
&he maxi saved his money to bring her here. 'e
saved and saved because she was alone with the baby
boy in that country. 'e worked two *obs. 'e came
home late and he left early. 5very day.
&hen one day Mamacita and the baby boy
arrived in a yellow taxi. &he taxi door opened like a
waiterAs arm. 6ut stepped a tiny pink shoe, a foot soft
as a rabbitAs ear, then the thick ankle, a flutter of hips,
fuchsia roses and green perfume. &he man had to pull
her, the taxicab driver had to push. #ush, pull. #ush,
pull. #oofL
-ll at once she bloomed. 'uge, enormous,
beautiful to look at, from the salmon%pink feather on
the tip of her hat down to the little rosebuds of her
toes. 2 couldnAt take my eyes off her tiny shoes.
Up, up, up the stairs she went with the baby boy
in a blue blanket, the man carrying her suitcases, her
lavender hatboxes, a do$en boxes of satin high heels.
&hen we didnAt see her.
"omebody said because sheAs too fat, somebody
because of the three flights of stairs, but 2 believe she
doesnAt come out because she is afraid to speak
5nglish, and maybe this is so since she only knows
eight words. "he knows to say4 4e not here for when
the landlord comes, Ao s&ea English if anybody else
comes, and 4oly smoes. 2 donAt know where she
learned this, but 2 heard her say it one time and it
surprised me.
+y father says when he came to this country he
ate hamandeggs for three months. 7reakfast, lunch
and dinner. 'amandeggs. &hat was the only word .he
knew. 'e doesnAt eat hamandeggs anymore.
.hatever her reasons, whether she is fat, or
canAt climb the stairs, or is afraid of 5nglish, she wonAt
come down. "he sits all day by the window and plays
the "panish radio show and sings all the homesick
songs about her country in a voice that sounds like a
seagull.
2,6
'ome. 'ome. 'ome is a house in a photograph,
a pink house, pink as hollyhocks with lots of starded
light. &he man paints the walls of the apartment %in2/
(ut it$s not the same/ you 2no#. 8he still si!hs &or her
%in2 house/ and then 6 thin2 she cries. 6 #ould.
8ometimes the man !ets dis!usted. 0e starts
screamin! and you can hear it all the #ay do#n the
street.
"y, she says/ she is sad.
7h/ he says. 4ot a!ain.
QCudndo, cudndo, cudndo5 %he a%+%!
RAy, ca4ay8 5e are home. This i% home. 0ere 6
am and here 6 stay. 8%ea2 3n!lish. 8%ea2 3n!lish.
ChristL
R"y5 Mamacita, #ho does not (elon!/ eery
once in a #hile lets out a cry/ hysterical/ hi!h/ as i& he
had torn the only s2inny thread that 2e%t her alie/ the
only road out to that country.
1nd then to (rea2 her heart &oreer/ the (a(y
(oy/ #ho has (e!un to tal2/ starts to sin! the :e%si
commercial he heard on T.@.
4o s%ea2 3n!lish/ she says to the child #ho is
sin!in! in the lan!ua!e that sounds li2e tin. 4o s%ea2
3n!lish/ no s%ea2 3n!lish/ and (u((les into tears. 4o/
no/ no/ as i& she can$t (eliee her ears.
Sandra Cisneros
3rawing heavily upon her childhood experiences and
ethnic heritage "andra (isneros Iborn =>?CJ creates
characters who are distinctly 'ispanic and often
isolated from mainstream -merican culture by
emphasi$ing dialogue and sensory imagery over
traditional narrative structures.
7orn in (hicago, (isneros was the only daughter
among seven children. (oncerning her childhood,
(isneros recalled that because her brothers attempted
to control her and expected her to assume a traditional
female role, she often felt like she had Bseven fathers.B
&he family fre!uently moved between the United
"tates and +exico because of her fatherAs
homesickness for his native country and his devotion
to his mother who lived there. (onse!uently, (isneros
often felt homeless and displaced4 B7ecause we moved
so much, and always in neighborhoods that appeared
like France after .orld .ar 22Gempty lots and
burned%out buildingsG2 retreated inside myself.B "he
began to read extensively, finding comfort in such
works as <irginia Lee 7urtonAs &he Little 'ouse and
Lewis (arrollAs -liceAs -dventures in .onderland.
(isneros periodically wrote poems and stories
throughout her childhood and adolescence, but she
did not find her literary voice until attending the
University of 2owaAs .riters .orkshop in the late
=>FDs. - breakthrough occurred for (isneros during a
discussion of French philosopher 9aston 7achelardAs
&he #oetics of "pace and his metaphor of a house; she
reali$ed that her experiences as a 'ispanic woman
were uni!ue and outside the realm of dominant
-merican culture. "he observed4 B5veryone seemed to
have some communal knowledge which 2 did not have
Gand then 2 reali$ed that the metaphor of house was
totally wrong for me. X 2 had no such house in my
memories. X &his caused me to !uestion myself, to
become defensive. .hat did 2, "andra (isneros, know0
.hat could 2 know0 +y classmates were from the best
schools in the country. &hey had been bred as fine
hothouse flowers. 2 was a yellow weed among the cityAs
cracks.B
"hortly after participating in the 2owa .orkshop,
(isneros decided to write about conflicts directly
related to her upbringing, including divided cultural
loyalties, feelings of alienation, and degradation
associated with poverty. 2ncorporating these concerns
into &he 'ouse on +ango "treet, a work that took
nearly five years to complete, (isneros created the
character 5speran$a, a poor, 'ispanic adolescent who
longs for a room of her own and a house of which she
can be proud. 5speran$a ponders the disadvantages of
choosing marriage over education, the importance of
writing as an emotional release, and the sense of
confusion associated with growing up. 2n the story
B'ips,B for example, 5speran$a agoni$es over the
repercussions of her bodyAs physical changes4 B6ne
day you wake up and there they are. 8eady and
waiting like a new 7uick with the key in the ignition.
8eady to take you where0B .ritten in what #enelope
+esic called Ba loose and deliberately simple style,
halfway between a prose poem and the awkwardness
of semiliteracy,B the pieces in &he 'ouse on +ango
"treet won praise for their lyrical narratives, vivid
dialogue, and powerful descriptions.
.oman 'ollering (reek and 6ther "tories is a
collection of twenty%two narratives revolving around
numerous +exican%-merican characters living near
"an -ntonio, &exas. 8anging from a few paragraphs to
several pages, the stories in this volume contain the
interior monologues of individuals who have been
assimilated into -merican culture despite their sense
of loyalty to +exico. 2n BNever +arry a +exican,B for
example, a young 'ispanic woman begins to feel
contempt for her white lover because of her emerging
feelings of inade!uacy and cultural guilt resulting from
her inability to speak "panish. -lthough (isneros
addresses important contemporary issues associated
with minority status throughout .oman 'ollering
2,7
(reek and 6ther "tories, critics have described her
characters as idiosyncratic, accessible individuals
capable of generating compassion on a universal level.
6ne reviewer observed4 B2n this sensitively structured
suite of sketches, M(isnerosAsN irony defers to her
powers of observation so that feminism and cultural
imperialism, while important issues here, do not
overwhelm the narrative.B
-lthough (isneros is noted primarily for her fiction,
her poetry has also garnered attention. 2n +y .icked
.icked .ays, her third volume of verse, (isneros
writes about her native (hicago, her travels in 5urope,
and, as reflected in the title, sexual guilt resulting from
her strict (atholic upbringing. - collection of sixty
poems, each of which resemble a short story, this work
further evidences (isnerosAs penchant for merging
various genres. 9ary "oto explained4 B(isnerosAs
poems are intrinsically narrative, but not large,
meandering paragraphs. "he writes deftly with skill
and idea, in the Ashow%me%donAt%tell%meA vein, and her
points leave valuable impressions.B 2n her poetry, as in
all her works, (isneros incorporates 'ispanic dialect,
impressionistic metaphors, and social commentary in
ways that reveal the fears and doubts uni!ue to
'ispanic women. "he stated4 B2f 2 were asked what it is
2 write about, 2 would have to say 2 write about those
ghosts inside that haunt me, that will not let me sleep,
of that which even memory does not like to mention.
X #erhaps later there will be a time to write by
inspiration. 2n the meantime, in my writing as well as
in that of other (hicanas and other women, there is
the necessary phase of dealing with those ghosts and
voices most urgently haunting us, day by day.B
/ Latina o! many colors8 Sandra
Cisneros
$y Miriam Martinez
$atino $eaders' The Aational Maga+ine of the
#uccessful "merican $atino, -pril%+ay, HDDC
'er works have not only left their mark among
academics but also in the lives of many readers. &he
'ouse on +ango "treet, .oman 'ollering (reek, and
her long awaited novel (aramelo, masterfully deliver
her own voice and tell of a meaningful part of
-mericaAs history.
+eeting "andra (isneros at &ortes &am 'aven in her
adopted office in "an -ntonio over some tacos, the
phone ringing at the counter, the noise and the spicy
aromas from the ta!ueriaAs busy kitchen, reveal that
being one of the most remarkable voices of
contemporary literature in the U" does not necessarily
mean an unapproachable intellectual immersed in
dense theories and unable to relate to everyday things
and real people.
"andra (isneros is *ust the opposite, highly energetic
and an eager convensationalist. &he framework of her
poetry and fiction are precisely everyday many Latinas
have experienced4 restrictions on the grounds of race,
class, and gender, but it also portrays a burgeoning
sensuality, womenAs solidarity and humor. (isneros
has made it into the mainstream literary, tradition of
her country and has surmounted the Bminority writerB
label, but she still has a chamaca spirit, fortunately.
"he has been a sort of medium that channels the
voices of women like Lucy, (hayo, Lupe, or 5speran$a,
the leading character of the book that propelled her to
fame, &he 'ouse on +ango "treet. &he book has sold
over H million copies and is re!uired reading at all
levels ranging from elementary to university level.
7ook maga$ineAs 3agoherto 9ilb said of her staggering
success, B2 knew "andra (isneros before she was
"andra (isneros. "heAs like my sister. .e came up
together but her rise went much higher than mine.
&alking about "andra (isneros these days is like
talking about Frida :ahlo.B
"andra (isneros, like 5speran$a, also grew up in
(hicago. 7orn to a +exican lather and a +exican%
-merican mother, (isneros was the third child and
only daughter in a family of seven children. "he
describes herself as a Ilaughter with six father. B+y
father always defined my gender to my brothers. 'eAd
say, A&his is your sister, you must take care of her.AB
"andraAs father emigrated to the U", where he spent
some time looking for a place to settle until he
eventually arrived in (hicago, where the +exican
community was striving to make some bucks. 'er
+exican%-merican mother had to give up school for a
*ob at a couple of factories. &his was a time when the
(isneroses led some sort of a 9ypsy life. &o save on
rent, the family spent summers back in +exico with
the grandparents. 7ut going back to (hicago meant
struggling to find a place to live in a variety of ethnic
neighborhoods sharing space with 2talians, #uerto
8icans, blacks, and #oles. Finally in =>E? at age ten,
"andra and her family found a somewhat fixed place
on (ampbell -venue near 'umboldt #ark.
"andraAs father became her reference for +exican
popular culture, +exican comic books such as Familia
7urron, the music of -gustin Lara, +exican cinema,
and fotonovelas. 7ut it was her mother who exposed
the children to arts and literature. 5very time they had
the chance, her mother would take the kids to free
concerts in the park and on museum visits. B"he was
the more educated of the two, even though she was self
educated, didnAt go beyond >th grade and working
class, she passed my father as far as curiosity and
2,*
hunger for learning is concerned. +y father had
studied a year in UN-+ I+exico (ityAs vast national
universityJ when he left +exico, and then he had to
learn a trade when he mine to the U".
B+y mother used to take us all to the public library.
.e didnAt have books because we couldnAt afford them.
2 loved books. 5ven before 2 could read 2 loved the
public library, maybe because it was !uiet, unlike my
house, where the radio and &< were on, and my
brothers were fighting. 2 *ust loved the place,B recalls
(isneros.
9rowing up in (hicago, "andra attended crowded
(atholic schools where the nuns and teachers were
oppressive, unsupportive, and, worst of all, very racist.
-n example of such an experience is skillfully
portrayed in 5leven, a short story where an abusive
teacher forces an eleven year old to wear an
abandoned sweater that is not even her own.
B2 suffered a lot when 2 yeas a child, feeling things. 7ut
2 also experienced beautiful things very deeply, not
*ust sorrows. -s a kid 2 used to look at a flower, and 2Ad
feel this unity with the universe. 2 would look at a tree,
and he would talk to me. &hat introversion was good;
it shaped me as a writer.B
"andra became an introspective child who found
comfort in 3ickens, (arroll, the 7rothers 9rimm, and
-ndersen. B2 think, in a way, 2 was collecting my own
mythology,B and Badds, Balong with that 2 was coloring
in my fatherAs fotonovela maga$ines. .ith a little red
pencil dipped in spit, 2 would color lipstick on all the
ladiesA pictures.B
"andra knew she wanted to attend college when she
was in ?th grade. -t that age, she had some sort of a
vision. B2 kind of visuali$ed my name in the card
catalogue. 2 wanted my name, my family name on the
spine of a book. &his was very important to me
because my brothers Aalways kept telling me that 2 was
not a real (isneros, because 2 would get married and
lose my name. 2 think thatAs why 2Am single,B she
chuckled her almost%childlike laughter. &hat was a
secret she kept to herself for some time.
(isneros was ready for college and the civil rights
movement and worked hard towards getting grants for
minority groups. B+y father, in the +exican tradition,
was planning to send me to college en busca de un
marido. "o he thought 2 was going to find un hombre
preparado. &hatAs what he wanted me to go to college
far. 'owever, when 2 finished college with two
degrees, one in humanities and another in creative
writing, my dad was very disappointed because 2 had
no husband.B 8ecalling all these events, (isneros is
!uite effective in cracking these stories as *okes.
-fter graduating from Loyola University of (hicago,
(isneros embarked on the prestigious 2owa University
.riters .orkshop. 5stablished true blue -merican
mentality writers were the norm, so "andra felt
frightened. 3uring a discussion on 9aston 7achelardAs
&he #oetics of "pace, the topic was the archetypical
idea of the house, but for (isneros it became an issue.
- woman started talking about her grandmotherAs
house, her house in 8ome, and her house on the
beach. B5veryone was in this animated discussion of
homes and attics and stairwells and basements and
nooks and crannies.B &he topic on &he 'ouse did not
make any sense to a soon%to%be writer who lived in
gritty places in (hicago. "he felt inade!uate and
unsure of her capabilities to understand what was
clear for the rest.
5veryone seemed to have some communal knowledge,
which (isneros did nor have. &here was no such house
in bet memories, and that led her to !uestioning her
place in the world as a writer. .hat had once made
her feet inade!uate and awkward, she suddenly retired
was maybe her best asset. From that moment onwards
she became a rebel by finally discovering her own
voice. "he knew first Bhand the reality none of her
classmates were capable of writing about. &he 'ouse
on +ango "treet was the result of that epiphany.
&hrough a series of brief vignettes, and a good dose of
autobiographical memoirs, the reader witnesses the
coming%of%age of 5speran$a, and the painful
knowledge that she earns the hard way while growing
up in a +exican barrio in (hicago. .omen oppressed
by their offspring, household chores, abusive
relationships, and the overwhelming impact of a male
world is the universe found in &he 'ome on +ango
"treet, where a sense of belonging is almost
nonexistent. -t the end of the book, 5speran$a
eventually and painstakingly finds the way to
liberation and choice, and as a critic pointed out, the
character becomes a metaphor for possibility.
im "agel of #ublishers .eekly said, B"uch
identification with her characters and her culture is
altogether natural for "andra (isneros, a writer who
has always found her literalUvoice in the real voices of
her people, her immediate family, and the extended
familias of Latino society.
(isneros finds herself in a position to chart those
barrio ditches and borderland arroyos that have not
appeared on most copies of the -merican literary map
but which, nonetheless, also flow into their
Bmainstream.B
(isneros went back to (hicago and got involved in
teaching literacy, "panish literature, and "panish for
Latino students. "he also ran a poetry workshop and at
the saner time worked as a counselor at Loyola, all this
while working on &he 'ouse on +ango "treet. 2n the
meantime she received her first National 5ndowment
for the -rts grant. "he hit the road to 5urope, and
came back with her book published originally by -rte
2,+
#ublico #ress in =>@C, which won the 7efore
(olumbus -merican 7ook -ward.
"he wanted a space of her own and moved to "an
-ntonio, where she worked as literary director at the
9uadalupe (ultural -rts (enter but !uit after some
differences with the directors. B2 was a little too avant%
garde for this group of very progressive leftist (hicano
artists.B
(isneros, was awarded the 3obie%#aisano fellowship
in =>@E, and she found meager support through a
writing seminar announced by fliers in laundromats.
"he accepted a pint at (arroll "tate University in
(alifornia, and (isneros took a walk on the down side,
afraid of academia and struggling with her battered
self%confidence &hat moment of turbulence%%(isneros
was calling counseling lines, saying she wanted to kill
herself and her cat #ablo%%led her to the book of poems
+y .icked .icked .ays, published by &hird .oman
#ress.
2n the meantime, her soon%to%be agent, "usan
7ergholt$, was so impressed with &he 'ouse on
+ango "treet that she was determined to offer her a
contract at 8andom 'ouse. 2t took four years for
7ergholt$ to convince (isneros. 2n her darkest hour,
an N5- grant and regained confidence made clear for
(isneros that she was up to the task of living off her
pen, and she called 7erghol$. Next, a collection of
short stories, .oman 'ollering (reek, (isnerosAs
long%awaited book after &he 'ouse on +ango "treet,
sold nearly HD,DDD hardback copies and almost
@D,DDD paperback volumes.
Loose .oman, a poetry book that spent a long season
under (isnerosAs bed, was not meant to be published,
but 7erghol$ persuaded her to let the world know
about it. 9ood reviews and good sales resulted in the
advance for (aramelo, so far her best work. .hat
started as a =H%page short story, became larger than
any of her other books. B.ell, it turns out that the
story got bigger and bigger like dough. 2 could never
get to an end. 2 showed it to my friend, and he said,
AYou have a novel here.A 2 put it aside, finished .oman
'ollering (reek, and took the story back out, and with
?D pages 2 got an advance, and thatAs how 2 started it.B
&he novel took nine years in the making. B'ow long
would it take0 'ow do 2 know0 6:, three years. &hree
years Iwent byJ and the book wasnAt done, and three
years morn and nine years. 2f 2Ad known it would take
nine years 2 wouldnAt have started it. 2t was like a nine%
year pregnancy. .ith every year, *ust like a pregnant
woman, 2 became crankier and meaner and more
difficult. 2t was a very difficult pregnancy.B
2n =>>H, with improved finances, what was a long time
obsession became a reality, a house of her own, Ba
home in the heart.B -fter a while, (isneros refurbished
her vintage =>DK metal%roofed house, located in "an
-ntonioAs historical :ing .illiam district. -ccording to
the city council, painting a home purple, tur!uoise,
and pitY violated the historical guidelines of the area.
&he 2ncident hit the front page of many newspapers,
and the legal battle went on for a couple of years while
the sun was toning down the house to a mole
BappropriateB lilac.
3uring the making of (aramelo, (isneros received the
BgeniusB +ac-rthur Foundation fellowship, and with
it she came to terms with her father, who for years
opposed (isnerosAs career choice toward literature
instead of marriage.
(aramelo is (isnerosA homage to her father, and also a
three generations family saga, very much like her own.
&he story takes a stroll through different times, as if
they weAre a long, glossy, and intricate rebo$o.
B"panish is the Blanguage of tenderness for me. 5ven if
2 donAt write in "panish, the "panish sensibilidad, the
"panish syntax, the language thing of looking at a
word comes in 5nglish IbutJ itAs Iinfused with
"panishJ whether 2 like it or not. 2t makes the 5nglish
so particularly my voice that people lead it, and they
know itAs my writing. 2tAs my fingerprint.B
The Sandra Cisneros Story-
Pu$lications and /chie'ements
"andra (isnerosA .orks
7ad 7oys IpoemsJ, +ango #ublications, =>@D. &he
'ouse on +ango "treet, -rte #ublico, =>@C; <intage,
=>>=. I&ranslated into "panish by 5lena #oniatowska,
-lfaguara, <intage 5spanol, =>>CJ. +y .icked,
.icked .ays IpoemsJ, &hird .oman #ress, =>@F,
8andom 'ouse =>>H.
.oman 'ollering (reek and 6ther "tories Ishort
storiesJ, 8andom 'ouse, =>>=; <intage =>>H. 'airs U
#elitos IchildrenAs bookJ, illustrated by &erry Ybane$,
:nopf, =>>C. Loose .oman IpoemsJ, :nopf, =>>C;
<intage, =>>? (aramelo InovelJ, :nopf, HDDH4 <intage,
HDDK. <intage (isneros IanthologyJ, <intage, HDDC
'er audience has expanded wider. 'er work has been
translated into languages such as (hinese, 3anish,
3utch, French, 9alician, 2talian, apanese, Norwegian,
"panish of course, and most recently into 9reek,
"erbo(roatian, "wedish, &urkish, and &hai.
/chie'ements
=>@C, 2llinois -rtists 9rant =>@C, &exas 2nstitute of
Letters 3obie%#aisano Fellowship =>@?, 7efore
21,
(olumbus -merican 7ook -ward for &he 'ouse on
+ango "treet =>@E, (hicano "hort "tory -ward,
University of -ri$ona =>@@, 8oberta 'olloway
Lectureship at the University of (alifornia, 7erkeley
=>@@, =>@H, National 5ndowment for the -rts
Fellowship =>>K, 'onorary 3octor of Letters from the
"tate University of New York, #urchase =>>?,
+ac-rthur Foundation Fellowship HDDH, 'onorary
3octor of 'umane Letters from Loyola University,
(hicago HDDK, &exas +edal of the -rts -ward
/ Re$el #ith a cause9
(isneros turned down lucrative advertising deal with
9-# because she thinks the company does little for
Latinos. Likewise, she refuses to allow her work to be
published in anthologies that classify her as a
B'ispanicB writer, because she sees the term as one
imposed on Latinos by other -mericans.
Through Sanish .yes
B"panish gives me a way of looking at myself and the
world in a new way, For those of us living between
worlds, our *ob in the universe is to help others see
with more than their eyes during this period of chaotic
transition. 6ur work as bicultural citi$ens is to help
others become visionary, to help us examine our
dilemmas in multiple ways and arrive at creative
solutions; otherwise we all will perishB "andra
(isneros in Los -ngeles &imes.
The Beauty o! Prose
BLucy -nguiano, &exas girl who smells like corn, like
Frito 7andito chips, like tortillas, something like that
warm smell of nixtamal or bread the way her head
smells when sheAs leaning close to you over a paper
cut%out doll or on the porch when we are s!uatting
over marbles trading this pretty crystal that leaves
blue stars on your hand for that giant cat%eye with a
grasshopper green spiral in the center like the *uice of
bugs on the
windshield
when you
drive to the
border, like
the yellow
blood of
butterflies.B
.oman
'ollering
(reek
+iriam
+artine$
B- Latina
of many
colors,
"andra (isnerosB. Latino Leaders4 &he National
+aga$ine of the "uccessful -merican Latino.
Find-rticles.com. D? +ay, HDD>.
<51&T 7I/L
UN6& 32-P I=>E@%J was born in "anto 3omingo,
3ominican 8epublic and is the author of 3rown and
The Brief Wondrous $ife of Bscar Wao which won the
ohn "argent "r. First Novel #ri$e, the National 7ook
(ritics (ircle -ward, the -nisfield%.olf 7ook -ward,
the 3ayton Literary #eace #ri$e and the HDD@ #ulit$er
#ri$e. 'is fiction has appeared in &he New Yorker,
-frican <oices, 7est -merican "hort "tories I=>>E,
=>>F, =>>>, HDDDJ, in #ushcart #ri$e OO22 and in &he
6A'enry #ri$e "tories HDD>.
'e has received a 5ugene +c3ermott -ward, a
fellowship from the ohn "imon 9uggenheim
+emorial Foundation, a Lila -cheson .allace 8eaders
3igest -ward, the HDDH #enU+alamud -ward, the
HDDK U"%apan (reative -rtist Fellowship from the
National 5ndowment for the -rts, a fellowship at the
8adcliffe 2nstitute for -dvanced "tudy at 'arvard
University and the 8ome #ri$e from the -merican
-cademy of -rts and Letters. 'e is the fiction editor at
the Boston Review and the 8udge I=>C@J and Nancy
-llen professor at the +assachusetts 2nstitute of
&echnology.
Fiesta )*M,
+amiAs youngest sisterGmy tga YrmaGfinally made it
to the United "tates that year. "he and tgo +iguel got
211
themselves an apartment in the 7ronx, off the 9rand
(oncourse and everybody decided that we should have
a party. -ctually, my pops decided, but everybodyG
meaning +ami, tga Yrma, tgo +iguel and their
neighborsGthought it a dope idea. 6n the afternoon of
the party #api came back from work around six. 8ight
on time. .e were all dressed by then, which was a
smart move on our part. 2f #api had walked in and
caught us lounging around in our underwear, he would
have kicked our asses something serious.
'e didnAt say nothing to nobody, not even my
moms. 'e *ust pushed past her, held up his hand when
she tried to talk to him and headed right into the
shower. 8afa gave me the look and 2 gave it back to
him; we both knew #api had been with that #uerto
8ican woman he was seeing and wanted to wash off
the evidence !uick.
+ami looked really nice that day. &he United "tates
had finally put some meat on her; she was no longer
the same flaca who had arrived here three years
before. "he had cut her hair short and was wearing
tons of cheap%ass *ewelry which on her didnAt look too
lousy. "he smelled lilce herself, like the wind through a
tree. "he always waited until the last possible minute
to put on her perfume because she said it was a waste
to spray it on early and then have to spray it on again
once you got to the party.
.eGmeaning me, my brother, my little sister and
+amiGwaited for #api to finish his shower. +ami
seemed anxious, in her usual dispassionate way. 'er
hands ad*usted the buckle of her belt over and over
again. &hat morning, when she had gotten us up for
school, +ami told us that she wanted to have a good
time at the party. 2 want to dance, she said, but now,
with the sun sliding out of the sky like spit off a wall,
she seemed ready *ust to get this over with.
8afa didnAt much want to go to no party either, and
me, 2 never wanted to go anywhere with my family.
&here was a baseball game in the parking lot outside
and we could hear our friends, yelling, 'ey, and,
(abrhn, to one another. .e heard the pop of a ball as
it sailed over the cars, the clatter, of an aluminum bat
dropping to the concrete. Not that me or 8afa loved
baseball; we *ust liked playing with the local kids,
thrashing them at anything they were doing. 7y the
sounds of the shouting, we both knew the game was
close, either of us could have made a difference. 8afa
frowned and when 2 frowned back, he put up his fist.
3onAt you mirror me, he said.
3onAt you mirror me, 2 said.
'e punched meG2 would have hit him back but
#api marched into the living room with his towel
around his waist, looking a lot smaller than he did
when he was dressed. 'e had a few strands of hair
around his nipples and a surly closed%mouth
expression, like maybe heAd scalded his tongue or
something.
'ave they eaten0 he asked +ami.
"he nodded. 2 made you something.
You didnAt let him eat, did you0
-y, 3ios mio, she said, letting her arms fall to her
side.
-y, 3ios mio is right, #api said.
2 was never supposed to eat before our car trips, but
earlier, when she had put out our dinner of rice, beans
and sweet platanos, guess who had been the first one
to clean his plate0 You couldnAt blame +ami really, she
had been busyGcooking, getting ready, dressing my
sister +adai. 2 should have reminded her not to feed
me but 2 wasnAt that sort of son.
#api turned to me. (oio, muchacho, why did you eat0
8afa had already started inching away from me. 2Ad
once told him 2 considered him a low%down
chickenshit for moving out of the way every time #api
was going to smack me.
(ollateral damage, 8afa had said. 5ver heard of it0
No.
Look it up.
(hickenshit or not, 2 didnAt dare glance at him. #api
was old%fashioned; he expected your undivided
attention when you were getting your ass whupped.
You couldnAt look him in the eye eitherGthat wasnAt
allowed. 7etter to stare at his belly button, which was
perfecdy round and immaculate. #api pulled me to my
feet by my ear.
2f you throw upG
2 wonAt, 2 cried, tears in my eyes, more out of reflex
than pain.
Ya, 8amon, ya. 2tAs not his fault, +ami said.
&heyAve known about this party forever. 'ow did
they think we were going to get there0 Fly0
'e finally let go of my ear and 2 sat back down.
+adai was too scared to open her eyes. 7eing around
#api all her life had turned her into a ma*or%league
wuss. -nytime #api raised his voice her lip would start
trembling, like some speciali$ed tuning fork. 8afa
pretended that he had knuckles to crack and when 2
shoved him, he gave me a 3on/t start look. 7ut even
that little bit of recognition made me feel better.
2 was the one who was always in trouble with my
dad. 2t was like my 9od%given duty to piss him off, to
do everything the way he hated. 6ur fights didnAt
bother me too much. 2 still wanted him to love me,
something that never seemed strange or contradictory
until years later, when he was out of our lives.
7y the time my ear stopped stinging #api was
dressed and +ami was crossing each one of us,
solemnly, like we were heading off to war. .e said, in
turn, 7endicihn, +ami, and she poked us in our five
cardinal spots while saying, Wue 3ios te bendiga.
&his was how all our trips began, the words that
followed me every time 2 left the house.
None of us spoke until we were inside #apiAs
<olkswagen van. 7rand%new, lime%green and bought
212
to impress. 6h, we were impressed, but me, every time
2 was in that <. and #api went above twenty miles an
hour, 2 vomited. 2Ad never had trouble with cars before
Gthat van was like my curse. +ami suspected it was
the upholstery. 2n her mind, -merican thingsG
appliances, mouthwash, funny%looking upholsteryGall
seemed to have an intrinsic badness about them. #api
was careful about taking me anywhere in the <., but
when he had to, 2 rode up front in +amiAs usual seat so
2 could throw up out a window.
j(hmo te sientas0 +ami asked over my shoulder
when #api pulled onto the turnpike. "he had her hand
on the base of my neck. 6ne thing about +ami, her
palms never sweated.
2Am 6:, 2 said, keeping my eyes straight ahead. 2
definitely didnAt want to trade glances with #api. 'e
had this one look, furious and sharp, that always left
me feeling bruised.
&oma. +ami handed me four mentas. "he had thrown
three out her window at the beginning of our trip, an
offering to 5shk; the rest were for me.
2 took one and sucked it slowly, my tongue
knocking it up against my teeth. .e passed Newark
-irport without any incident. 2f +adai had been awake
she would have cried because the planes flew so close
to the cars.
'owAs he feeling0 #api asked.
Fine, 2 said. 2 glanced back at 8afa and he
pretended like he didnAt see me. &hat was the way he
was, at school and at home. .hen 2 was in trouble, he
didnAt know me. +adai was solidly asleep, but even
with her face all wrinkled up and drooling she looked
cute, her hair all separated into twists.
2 turned around and concentrated on the candy.
#api even started to *oke that we might not have to
scrub the van out tonight. 'e was beginning to loosen
up, not checking his watch too much. +aybe he was
thinking about that #uerto 8ican woman or maybe he
was *ust happy that we were all together. 2 could never
tell. -t the toll, he was feeling positive enough to actu%
ally get out of the van and search around under the
basket for dropped coins. 2t was something he had
once done to amuse +adai, but now it was habit. (ars
behind us honked their horns and 2 slid down in my
seat. 8afa didnAt care; he grinned back at the other
cars and waved. 'is actual *ob was to make sure no
cops were coming. +ami shook +adai awake and as
soon as she saw #api stooping for a couple of !uarters
she let out this screech of delight that almost took off
the top of my head.
&hat was the end of the good times. ust outside the
.ashington 7ridge, 2 started feeling woo$y. &he smell
of the upholstery got all up inside my head and 2 found
myself with a mouthful of saliva. +amiAs hand tensed
on my shoulder and when 2 caught #apiAs eye, he was
like, No way. 3onAt do it.
&he first time 2 got sick in the van #api was taking me
to the library. 8afa was with us and he couldnAt believe
2 threw up. 2 was famous for my steel%lined stomach. -
third%world childhood could give you that. #api was
worried enough that *ust as !uick as 8afa could drop
off the books we were on our way home. +ami fixed
me one of her honey%and%onion concoctions and that
made my stomach feel better. - week later we tried the
library again and on this go%around 2 couldnAt get the
window open in time. .hen #api got me home, he
went and cleaned out the van himself, an expression of
askho on his face. &his was a big deal, since #api
almost never cleaned anything himself. 'e came back
inside and found me sitting on the couch feeling like
hell. 2tAs the car, he said to +ami. 2tAs making him sick.
&his time the damage was pretty minimal, nothing
#api couldnAt wash off the door with a blast of the
hose. 'e was pissed, though; he *ammed his finger
into my cheek, a nice solid thrust. &hat was the way he
was with his punishments4 imaginative. 5arlier that
year 2Ad written an essay in school called B+y Father
the &orturer,B but the teacher made me write a new
one. "he thought 2 was kidding.
.e drove the rest of the way to the 7ronx in silence.
.e only stopped once, so 2 could brush my teeth.
+ami had brought along my toothbrush and a tube of
toothpaste and while every car known to man sped by
us she stood outside with me so 2 wouldnAt feel alone.
&go +iguel was about seven feet tall and had his hair
combed up and out, into a demi%fro. 'e gave me and
8afa big spleen%crushing hugs and then kissed +ami
and finally ended up with +adai on his shoulder. &he
last time 2Ad seen &go was at the airport, his first day in
the United "tates. 2 remembered how he hadnAt
seemed all that troubled to be in another country.
'e looked down at me. (ara*o, Yunior, you look
horribleL
'e threw up, my brother explained.
2 pushed 8afa. &hanks a lot, ass%face.
'ey, he said. &go asked.
&go clapped a bricklayerAs hand on my shoulder.
5verybody gets sick sometimes, he said. You should
have seen me on the plane over here. 3ios mioL 'e
rolled his -sian%looking eyes for emphasis. 2 thought
we were all going to die.
5verybody could tell he was lying. 2 smiled like he
was making me feel better.
3o you want me to get you a drink0 &go asked. .e
got beer and rum.
+iguel, +ami said. 'eAs young.
Young0 7ack in "anto 3omingo, heAd be getting laid
by now.
+ami thinned her lips, which took some doing.
.ell, itAs true, &go said.
"o, +ami, 2 said. .hen do 2 get to go visit the 3.8.0
&hatAs enough, Yunior.
213
2tAs the only pussy youAll ever get, 8afa said to me in
5nglish.
Not counting your girlfriend, of course.
8afa smiled. 'e had to give me that one.
#api came in from parking the van. 'e and +iguel
gave each other the sort of handshakes that would
have turned my fingers into .onder bread.
(oio, compaAi, jchmo va todo0 they said to each
other.
&ga came out then, with an apron on and maybe the
longest Lee #ress%6n Nails 2Ave ever seen in my life.
&here was this one guru motherfucker in the 2uinness
Boo of World Records who had longer nails, but 2 tell
you, it was close. "he gave everybody kisses, told me
and 8afa how guapa we wereG 8afa, of course,
believed herGtold +adai how bella she was, but when
she got to #api, she fro$e a little, like maybe sheAd seen
a wasp on the tip of his nose, but then kissed him all
the same.
+ami told us to *oin the other kids in the living
room. &go said, .ait a minute, 2 want to show you the
apartment. 2 was glad &ga said, 'old on, because from
what 2Ad seen so far, the place had been furnished in
(ontemporary 3ominican &acky. &he less 2 saw, the
better. 2 mean, 2 liked plastic sofa covers but damn,
&go and &ga had taken it to another level. &hey had a
disco ball hanging in the living room and the type of
stucco ceilings that looked like stalactite heaven. &he
sofas all had golden tassels dangling from their edges.
&ga came out of the kitchen with some people 2 didnAt
know and by the time she got done introducing
everybody, only #api and +ami were given the guided
tour of the four%room third%floor apartment. +e and
8afa *oined the kids in the living room. &heyAd already
started eating. .e were hungry one of the girls
explained, a pastelito in hand. &he boy was about three
years younger than me but the girl whoAd spoken, Leti,
was my age. "he and another girl were on the sofa
together and they were cute as hell.
Leti introduced them4 the boy was her brother
.il!uins and the other girl was her neighbor +ari.
Leti had some serious tetas and 2 could tell that my
brother was going to gun for her. 'is taste in girls was
predictable. 'e sat down right between Leti and +ari
and by the way they were smiling at him 2 knew heAd
do fine. Neither of the girls gave me more than a
cursory one%two, which didnAt bother me. "ure, 2 liked
girls but 2 was always too terrified to speak to them
unless we were arguing or 2 was calling them stupidos,
which was one of my favorite words that year. 2 turned
to .il!uins and asked him what there was to do
around here. +ari, who had the lowest voice 2Ad ever
heard, said, 'e canAt speak.
.hat does that mean0
'eAs mute.
2 looked at .il!uins incredulously. 'e smiled and
nodded, as if heAd won a pri$e or something.
3oes he understand0 2 asked.
6f course he understands, 8afa said. 'eAs not
dumb.
2 could tell 8afa had said that *ust to score points
with the girls. 7oth of them nodded. Low%voice +ari
said, 'eAs the best student in his grade.
2 thought, Not bad for a mute. 2 sat next to
.il!uins. -fter about two seconds of &< .il!uins
whipped out a bag of dominos and motioned to me.
3id 2 want to play0 "ure. +e and him played 8afa and
Leti and we whupped their collective asses twice,
which put 8afa in a real bad mood. 'e looked at me
like maybe he wanted to take a swing, *ust one to make
him feel better. Led kept whispering into 8afaAs ear,
telling him it was 6:.
2n the kitchen 2 could hear my parents slipping into
their usual modes. #apiAs voice was loud and
argumentative; you didnAt have to be anywhere near
him to catch his drift. -nd +ami, you had to put cups
to your ears to hear hers. 2 went into the kitchen a few
timesGonce so the tgos could show off how much
bullshit 2Ad been able to cram in my head the last few
years; another time for a bucket%si$ed cup of soda.
+ami and &ga were frying tostones and the last of the
pastelitos. "he appeared happier now and the way her
hands worked on our dinner you would think she had
a life somewhere else making rare and precious things.
"he nudged &ga every now and then, shit they must
have been doing all their lives. -s soon as +ami saw
me though, she gave me the eye. 3onAt stay long, that
eye said. 3onAt piss your old man off.
#api was too busy arguing about 5lvis to notice me.
&hen somebody mentioned +arga +onte$ and #api
barked, +arga +onte$0 Let me tell you about +arga
+onte$, compaAi.
+aybe 2 was used to him. 'is voiceGlouder than
most adultsAGdidnAt bother me none, though the other
kids shifted uneasily in their seats. .il!uins was about
to raise the volume on the &<, but 8afa said, 2
wouldnAt do that. +uteboy had balls, though. 'e did it
anyway and then sat down. .il!uinsAs pop came into
the living room a second later, a bottle of #residente in
hand. &hat dude must have had "pider%senses or
something. 3id you raise that0 he asked .il!uins and
.il!uins nodded.
2s this your house0 his pops asked. 'e looked ready
to beat .il!uins silly but he lowered the volume
instead.
"ee, 8afa said. You nearly got your ass iced.
2 met the #uerto 8ican woman right after #api had
gotten the van. 'e was taking me on short trips, trying
to cure me of my vomiting. 2t wasnAt really working but
2 looked forward to our trips, even though at the end of
each one 2Ad be sick. &hese were the only times me and
#api did anything together. .hen we were alone he
214
treated me much better, like maybe 2 was his son or
something.
7efore each drive +ami would cross me.
7endicihn, +ami, 2Ad say.
"heAd kiss my forehead. Wue 3ios te bendiga. -nd
then she would give me a handful of mentas because
she wanted me to be 6:. +ami didnAt think these
excursions would cure anything, but the one time she
had brought it up to #api he had told her to shut up,
what did she know about anything anyway0
+e and #api didnAt talk much. .e *ust drove
around our neighborhood.
6ccasionally heAd ask, 'ow is it0
-nd 2Ad nod, no matter how 2 felt..
6ne day 2 was sick outside of #erth -mboy. 2nstead
of taking me home he went the other way on 2ndustrial
-venue, stopping a few minutes later in front of a light
blue house 2 didnAt recogni$e. 2t reminded me of the
5aster eggs we colored at school, the ones we threw
out the bus windows at other cars.
&he #uerto 8ican woman was there and she helped
me clean up. "he had dry papery hands and when she
rubbed the towel on my chest, she did it hard, like 2
was a bumper she was waxing. "he was very thin and
had a cloud of brown hair rising above her narrow face
and the sharpest blackest eyes youAve ever seen.
'eAs cute, she said to #api.
Not when heAs throwing up, #api said.
.hatAs your name0 she asked me. -re you 8afa0
2 shook my head.
&hen itAs Yunior, right0
2 nodded.
YouAre the smart one, she said, suddenly happy with
herself. +aybe you want to see my books0
&hey werenAt hers. 2 recogni$ed them as ones my
father must have left in her house. #api was a
voracious reader, couldnAt even go cheating without a
paperback in his pocket.
.hy donAt you go watch &<0 #api suggested. 'e
was looking at her like she was the last piece of
chicken on earth.
.e got plenty of channels, she said. Use the remote
if you want.
&he two of them went upstairs and 2 was too scared
of what was happening to poke around. 2 *ust sat there,
ashamed, expecting something big and fiery to crash
down on our heads. 2 watched a whole hour of the
news before #api came downstairs and said, LetAs go.
-bout two hours later the women laid out the food and
like always nobody but the kids thanked them. 2t must
be some 3ominican tradition or something. &here was
everything 2 likedGchicharrones, fried chicken,
tostones, sancocho, rice, fried cheese, yuca, avocado,
potato salad, a meteor%si$ed hunk of pernil, even a
tossed salad which 2 could do withoutGbut when 2
*oined the other kids around the serving table, #api
said, 6h no you donAt, and took the paper plate out of
my hand. 'is fingers werenAt gentle. .hatAs wrong
now0 &ga asked, handing me another plate. 'e ainAt
eating, #api said. +ami pretended to help 8afa with
the pernil. .hy canAt he eat0 7ecause 2 said so.
&he adults who didnAt know us made like they
hadnAt heard a thing and &go *ust smiled sheepishly
and told everybody to go ahead and eat. -ll the kidsG
about ten of them nowGtrooped back into the living
room with their plates a%heaping and all the adults
ducked into the kitchen and the dining room, where
the radio was playing loud%ass bachatas. 2 was the only
one without a plate. #api stopped me before 2 could get
away from him. 'e kept his voice nice and low so
nobody else could hear him.
2f you eat anything, 2Am going to beat you.
j5ntiendes0
2 nodded.
-nd if your brother gives you any food, 2All beat him
too. 8ight here in front of everybody. j5ntiendes0
2 nodded again. 2 wanted to kill him and he must
have sensed it because he gave my head a little shove.
-ll the kids watched me come in and sit down in
front of the &<.
.hatAs wrong with your dad0 Leti asked.
'eAs a dick, 2 said.
8afa shook his head. 3onAt say that shit in front of
people.
5asy for you to be nice when youAre eating, 2 said.
'ey, if 2 was a pukey little baby, 2 wouldnAt get no
food either.
2 almost said something back but 2 concentrated on
the &<. 2 wasnAt going to start it. No fucking way. "o 2
watched 7ruce Lee beat (huck Norris into the floor of
the (olosseum and tried to pretend that there was no
food anywhere in the house. 2t was &ga who finally
saved me. "he came into the living room and said,
"ince you ainAt eating, Yunior, you can at least help me
get some ice.
2 didnAt want to, but she mistook my reluctance for
something else.
2 already asked your father.
"he held my hand while we walked; &ga didnAt have
any kids but 2 could tell she wanted them. "he was the
sort of relative who always remembered your birthday
but who you only went to visit because you had to. .e
didnAt get past the first%floor landing before she
opened her pocketbook and handed me the first of
three pastelitos she had smuggled out of the
apartment.
9o ahead, she said. -nd as soon as you get inside
make sure you brush your teeth.
&hanks a lot, &ga, 2 said.
&hose pastelitos didnAt stand a chance.
"he sat next to me on the stairs and smoked her
cigarette. -ll the way down on the first floor and we
could still hear the music and the adults and the
215
television. &ga looked a ton like +ami; the two of them
were both short and light%skinned. &ga smiled a lot and
that was what set them apart the most.
'ow is it at home, Yunior0
.hat do you mean0
'owAs it going in the apartment0 -re you kids 6:0
2 knew an interrogation when 2 heard one, no
matter how sugar%coated it was. 2 didnAt say anything.
3onAt get me wrong, 2 loved my &ga, but something
told me to keep my mouth shut. +aybe it was family
loyalty, maybe 2 *ust wanted to protect +ami or 2 was
afraid that #api would find outGit could have been
anything really.
2s your mom all right0
2 shrugged.
'ave there been lots of fights0
None, 2 said. &oo many shrugs would have been *ust
as bad as an answer. #apiAs at work too much.
.ork, &ga said, like it was somebodyAs name she
didnAt like.
+e and 8afa, we didnAt talk much about the #uerto
8ican woman. .hen we ate dinner at her house, the
few times #api had taken us over there, we still acted
like nothing was out of the ordinary. #ass the ketchup,
man. No sweat, bro. &he affair was like a hole in our
living room floor, one weAd gotten so used to
circumnavigating that we sometimes forgot it was
there.
7y midnight all the adults were cra$y dancing. 2 was
sitting outside &gaAs bedroomGwhere +adai was
sleepingGtrying not to attract attention. 8afa had me
guarding the door; he and Leti were in there too, with
some of the other kids, getting busy no doubt.
.il!uins had gone across the hall to bed so 2 had me
and the roaches to mess around with.
.henever 2 peered into the main room 2 saw about
twenty moms and dads dancing and drinking beers.
5very now and then somebody yelled, Wuis!ueyaL -nd
then everybody else would yell and stomp their feet.
From what 2 could see my parents seemed to be
en*oying themselves.
+ami and &ga spent a lot of time side by side,
whispering, and 2 kept expecting something to come of
this, a brawl maybe. 2Ad never once been out with my
family when it hadnAt turned to shit. .e werenAt even
theatrical or straight cra$y like other families. .e
fought like sixth%graders, without any real dignity. 2
guess the whole night 2Ad been waiting for a blowup,
something between #api and +ami. &his was how 2
always figured #api would be exposed, out in public,
where everybody would know.
You/re a cheater5
7ut everything was calmer than usual. -nd +ami
didnAt look like she was about to say anything to #api.
&he two of them danced every now and then but they
never lasted more than a song before +ami *oined &ga
again in whatever conversation tliey were having,
2 tried to imagine +ami before #api. +aybe 2 was
tired, or *ust sad, thinking about the way my family
was. +aybe 2 already knew how it would all end up in
a few years, +ami without #api, and that was why 2
did it. #icturing her alone wasnAt easy. 2t seemed like
#api had always been with her, even when we were
waiting in "anto 3omingo for him to send for us.
&he only photograph our family had of +ami as a
young woman, before she married #api, was th.e one
that somebody took of her at an election party that 2
found one day while rummaging for money to go to the
arcade. +ami had it tucked into her immigration
papers. 2n the photo, sheAs surrounded by laughing
cousins 2 will never meet, who are all shiny from
dancing, whose clothes are rumpled and loose. You
can tell itAs night and hot and that the mos!uitos haveA
been biting. "he sits straight and even in a crowd she
stands out, smiling !uiedy like maybe sheAs the one
everybodyAs celebrating. You canAt see her hands but 2
imagined theyAre knotting a straw or a bit of thread.
&his was the woman my father met a year later on the
+alecon, the woman +ami thought sheAd always be.
+ami must have caught me studying her because
she stopped what she was doing and gave me a smile,
maybe her first one of the night. "uddenly 2 wanted to
go over and hug her, for no other reason than 2 loved
her, but there were about eleven fat *iggling bodies
between us. "o 2 sat down on the tiled floor and
waited.
2 must have fallen asleep because the next thing 2
knew 8afa was kicking me and saying, LetAs go. 'e
looked like heAd been hitting those girls off; he was all
smiles. 2 got to my feet in time to kiss &ga and &go
good%bye. +ami was holding the serving dish she had
brought with her.
.hereAs #api0 2 asked.
'eAs downstairs, bringing the van around. +ami
leaned down to kiss me.
You were good today, she said.
-nd then #api burst in and told us to get the hell
downstairs before some pende*o cop gave him a ticket.
+ore kisses, more handshakes and then we were gone.
2 donAt remember being out of sorts after 2 met the
#uerto 8ican woman, but 2 must have been because
+ami only asked me !uestions when she thought
something was wrong in my life. 2t took her about ten
passes but finally she cornered me one afternoon when
we were alone in the apartment. 6ur upstairs
neighbors were beating the crap out of their kids, and
me and her had been listening to it all afternoon. "he
put her hand on mine and said, 2s everything 6:,
Yunior0 'ave you been fighting with your brother0
216
+e and 8afa had already talked. .eAd been in the
basement, where our parents couldnAt hear us. 'e told
me that yeah, he knew about her.
#apiAs taken me there twice now, he said.
.hy didnAt you tell me0 2 asked.
.hat the hell was 2 going to say0 4ey Yunior, guess
what ha&&ened yesterdayH 7 met Pa&i/s sucia5
2 didnAt say anything to +ami either. "he watched
me, very very closely. Later 2 would think, maybe if 2
had told her, she would have confronted him, would
have done something, but who can know these things0
2 said 2Ad been having trouble in school and like that
everything was back to normal between us. "he put
her hand on my shoulder and s!uee$ed and that was
that.
.e were on the turnpike, *ust past 5xit ==, when 2
started feeling it again. 2 sat up from leaning against
8afa. 'is fingers smelled and heAd gone to sleep
almost as soon as he got into the van. +adai was out
too but at least she wasnt snoring.
2n the darkness, 2 saw that #api had a hand on
+amiAs knee and that the two of them were !uiet and
still. &hey werenAt slumped back or anything; they
were both wide awake, bolted into their seats. 2
couldnAt see either of their faces and no matter how
hard 2 tried 2 could not imagine their expressions.
Neither of them moved. 5very now and then the van
was filled with the bright rush of somebody elseAs
headlights. Finally 2 said, +ami, and they both looked
back, already knowing what was happening.
217