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English Pages 2284 Year 1995
THE
NORTON INTRODUCTION TO
LITE R ATU RE
Carl
E.
Bain
Jerome Beaty J.
Paul Hunter
Digitized by tine Internet Archive in
2010
littp://www.arcliive.org/details/nortonintroductiObain
The Norton Introduction
to
LITERATURE SIXTH EDITION
The Norton Introduction
to
LITERATURE V V V SIXTH EDITION
Carl E. Bain
Jerome Beaty J.
Paul Hunter
-^ W W •
•
NORTON & COMPANY NEW YORK LONDON •
•
Copyright
©
igg^, 1991, 1986, 1981, 1977, 1973 by
W. W. Norton
&•
Company
All rights reserved
Printed in the United States of .\merica
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the copyright notices, pages A31-A41 constitute
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an extension of the copyright page.
Cover Art,
illustration:
Kansas
Wayne Thiebaud, Apartment
Cit\',
Hill.
Courtesy the Nelson-Atkins
Museum
Missouri (Purchase: Acquired with the assistance of the Friends
of
.\rt).
Libran, of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
The Norton
introduction to literature
Jerome Beaty,
J.
/
[edited by] Carl E. Bain,
Paul Hunter.— 6th ed.
p.
cm.
Includes indexes. 1.
Literature— Collections. III.
I.
Bain, Carl E.
Hunter,
PN6014.N67
J.
II.
Beat)',
Jerome
Paul
1994b
808— dc2o
94-42758
ISBN
0-393-96665-8
W. W. Norton & Company, Inc., 500 Fifth .Avenue, New York, N.Y. 10110 W. W. Norton &• Compan)' Ltd., 10 Coptic Street, London WCiA iPU
234567890
8
CONTENTS
FICTION Fiction:
Reading, Responding, Writing
3
SPENCER HOLST The Zebra Storyteller ELIZABETH TALLENT No One's a Mystery 11 GUY DE MAUPASSANT The Jewelry Questions
PLOT,
18
MARGARET ATWOOD Happy Endings 26 JOHN CHEEVER The Country Husband JAMES BALDWIN Sonny's Blues 47
1
Glossary
Questions
lado
VIEW, 73
An Occurrence
3 CHARACTERIZATION, 103
GRACE PALEY Father
89
Live at the P.O.
I
Fenstad's
Our Friend
Mother with
186
127
My
L40
Questions
Writing Suggestions, 145
A
Rose
for
Emily
AMY TAN A Pair of Tickets 157 ANTON CHEKHOV The Lady with
5 SYMBOLS,
108
117
Judith
A Conversation
WILLIAM FAULKNER
Questions
Owl Creek
Writing Suggestions, 100
Why
CHARLES BAXTER DORIS LESSING
SETTING, 148
Blow-Up
Questions
EUDORA WELTY
Glossary
at
82
JULIO CORTAZAR Glossary
of Amontil-
77
AMBROSE BIERCE Bridge
28
Writing Suggestions, 71
The Cask
EDGAR ALLAN POE
2 POINT QF
4
6
Writing Suggestions, 17
Understanding the Text 1
3
the
151
Dog
Writing Suggestions, 184
NATHANIEL HAWTHORNE
Brown 189 MARGARET LAURENCE ANN BEATTIE Janus
YouUg Goodman
The Loons 2o6
198
172
Contents
vi
Questions
Glossary
Writing Suggestions, 210
Student Writing, The Struggle to Surface Water of "Sonny's Blues" 212
6 THEME,
LEO TOLSTOY How Much Land Does Need? 222 KATHERINE MANSFIELD Her First Ball ANGELA CARTER A Souvenir of Japan
218
Questions
Glossary
7 THE WHOLE
TEXT,
The
JOSEPH CONRAD
in
a
the
Man 233
237
Writing Suggestions, 244
Secret Sharer
246
Questions, 275
246
LOUISE ERDRiCH
Love Medicine
278
Questions, 294
GUY VANDERHAEGHE Questions
The Watcher
296
Wnting Suggestions, 321
Student Writing, "Like the Sand of the Hourglass
Exploring Contexts
8 THE AUTHOR'S WORK AS CONTEXT: D. H.
LAWRENCE
AND FLANNERY O'CONNOR, 329
.
.
323
.",
329 LAWRENCE Odour of Chrysanthemums The Rocking-Horse Winner
D. H.
335
350
Passages from Essays and Letters
361
FLANNERY o'cONNOR
The Lame
Shall Enter First
366
Everything That Rises Must Converge Passages from Essays and Letters
Glossary
9 CULTURE AS CONTEXT:
BORDER
STORIES, 412
Writing Suggestions,
410
4L4 RUDOLFO ANAYA The Water People RICHARD DOKEY Sanchez 424 DENiSE CHAVEZ The Last of the Menu Girls
Questions
10
Questions
393
404
434 Writing Suggestions, 452
LITERARY KIND AS CONTEXT:
JAMES JOYCE Araby TONi CADE BAMBARA
INITIATION
ALICE
MUNRO
456 Gorilla,
My
Boys and Girls
Love
460
465
STORIES, 454 Glossary
Questions
Writing Suggestions, 475
Student Writing, To See the
Light,
477
Contents t
1 1
FORM AS CONTEXT:
THE SHORT
SHORT STORY, 482
The Story of an Hour 484 ernest Hemingway A Very Short Story 486 Gabriel garcia marquez A Very Old Man with Enormous Wings 487 kate chopin
JAMAICA KINCAID
Girl
Bell Gricket
Questions
492
The Grasshopper and
YASUNARI KAWABATA
Evaluating Fiction
vii
the
493
Writing Suggestions, 496
497 RICHARD connell
Game
The Most Dangerous
497
Student Writing, 512
Why
"The Most Dangerous Game"
ature,
Why
Is
Good
Is
Not Good
Liter-
513
"The Most Dangerous Game"
Literature,
514
WILLIAM FAULKNER Barn Burning 518 BHARATI MUKHERJEE The Management of Grief
Reading More Fiction
536
551
HENRY JAMES The Real Thing 551 CHARLOTTE PERKINS GILMAN The Yellow Wallpaper
569
A Hunger Artist 581 MORDECAl RICHLER The Summer My Grandmother Was Supposed to Die 588 BOBBIE ANN MASON Shiloh 599 RICHARD FORD Great Falls 609 LYNNA WILLIAMS Personal Testimony 621 REGINALD MCKNIGHT Into Night 629 HA JIN In Broad Daylight 639 FRANZ KAFKA
POETRY Poetry: Reading, Responding, Writing ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING
651
How Do
Thee? 652 JAROLD RAMSEY The Tally Stick 653 EZRA POUND The River-Merchant's Wife:
A Letter
655
I
Love
Contents
viii
To
MARY, LADY CHUDLEiGH
TOM WAYMAN
Wavmaii
On My
BEN JONSON
First
the Ladies
Love
in
657
658
Son
659
HOWARD NEMEROV The Vacuuni 662 SHARON OLDS The Glass
660
Fifth Grade Autobiography RITA DOVE ANNE SEXTON The Fim' of Overshoes
WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE
[Let
me
664 664
not to the mar-
669 To M\' Dear and Loving Hus-
riage of true minds]
ANNE BRADSTREET
band 669 EDNA ST. VINCENT MILLAY
woman and
[\,
distressed]
GALWAY KINNELL
After
being born a
670
Making Love
670 LI-YOUNG LEE Persimmons
We
Hear
Footsteps
AUDRE LORDE ERIN
MOURE
Questions
Understanding the Text 1
TONE, 675
673
Thirteen Years
673
Writing Suggestions, 674
675
MARGE PIERCY
Barbie Doll
675 Leaving the Motel
w. D. SNODGRASS
LINDA PASTAN
love
poem
from the Hospital
676
679
Hard Rock Returns
ETHERlDGE KNIGHT Insane
671
Recreation
for the
to Prison
Criminal
681
London
WILLIAM BLAKE
682
684 MAXINE KUMIN Woodchucks ADRIENNE RICH Aunt Jennifer's Tigers
685
686 ALAN DUGAN Elegy 687 DOROTHY PARKER Comment The Author's Epitaph, SIR WALTER RALEGH Made By Himself 687 687 CAROLYN FORCHE Reunion 689 APHRA BEHN On Her Lo\ing Two Equally 689 ROBERT HAYDEN Those Winter Sunda\s
Daddy 690 You Didn't
SYLVIA PLATH
SUSAN MUSGRAVE JONATHAN SWIFT
Shower
A
Fit
692
Description of a City
693
THOMAS GRAY Churchyard
Elegv' Written in a
695
Country
Contents
The Tyger
WILLIAM BLAKE Glossary
2 SPEAKER,
701
ix
698
Writing Suggestions, 699
Questions
thomas hardy The Ruined Maid X. J. KENNEDY In a Prominent Bar One Day 703
701 in
Secaucus
adrienne rich Letters in the Family 705 ROBERT browning Soliloquy of the Spanish 707
Cloister
TESS GALLAGHER
Sudden Journey 710 A Certain Lady 711 A. R. AMMONS Needs 713 WILLIAM WORDSWORTH She Dwelt among Untrodden Ways 714 SHARON OLDS The Lifting 715
DOROTHY PARKER
HENRY REED tances ^''-
Lessons of the War: Judging Dis717
AUDRE LORDE
Hanging
JOHN BETJEMAN
Fire
In Westminster
Twenty-year Marriage
SYLVIA PLATH
718
The Changeling
JUDITH ORTIZ GOFER
Ai
the
Mirror
Abbey
719 719
721
721
GWENDOLYN BROOKS We Real Cool 722 SIR THOMAS WYATT They Flee from Me 722 ADRIENNE RICH [My mouth hovers across your breasts]
723
STEVIE SMITH
I
Remember
723
SEAMUS HEANEY The Outlaw 724 MARGARET ATWOOD Death of a Young Son by Drowning 724 WALT WHITMAN [I celebrate myself, and sing myself]
Glossary
3
SITUATION
AND
SETTING, 728
725
Questions
Cherrylog Road
JAMES DICKEY
JOHN DONNE RITA
DOVE
The
729
732
734
To
a
On
the Late Massacre in Pied-
Daughter Leaving
735
JOHN MILTON
mont
Flea
Daystar
LINDA PASTAN
Home
Writing Suggestions, 726
736
SYLVIA PLATH
Point Shirley
738
MATTHEW ARNOLD ADRIENNE RICH
Dover Beach 741 Walking down the Road
742
X T Contents
My
ROBERT BROWNING
Last
Duchess
Labor Day
LOUISE GLiJCK
743
745
RICHARD SNYDER A Mongoloid Child Handling Shells on the Beach 745 ELIZABETH ALEXANDER Boston Year 745 DOROTHY LiVESAY Green Rain 746 EMILY BRONTE The Night-Wind 747 APRIL BERNARD
Dweller
Praise
Psalm of the City-
748
ARCHIBALD LAMPMAN In November 748 SUSAN MUSGRAVE I Am Not a Conspiracy Everything Is Not Paranoid The Drug Enforcement Administration Is Not Everywhere 749 WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE
morning have
I
[Full
seen]
many
a glorious
750
JOHN DONNE The Good-Morrow 750 MARILYN CHIN Aubade 751 JONATHAN SWIFT A Description of the
Morning
752
SYLVIA PLATH
Glossary
Morning Song
A
Student Writing,
4
LANGUAGE, 759
752
Writing Suggestions, 753
Questions
Letter to an Author,
Precision and Ambiguity,
755
759
RICHARD ARMOUR Hiding Place 759 YVOR WINTERS At the San Francisco Air760
port
WALTER DE LA MARE Slim Cunning Hands 763 PAT MORA Centle Communion 763 BEN JONSON Still to Be Neat 765 ROBERT HERRICK Delight in Disorder EMILY DICKINSON ing
comes—
768
]
THEODORE ROETHKE
My
Papa's Waltz
Sex Without Love
SHARON OLDS
766
[After great pain, a formal feel-
769
770
GERARD MANLEY HOPKINS Pied Beauty 772 WILLIAM CARLOS WILLIAMS The Red Wheelbarrow E. E.
772
CUMMINGS
[in Just-]
773 Foreign Language
RICARDO PAU-LLOSA SUSAN MUSGRAVE
EMILY DICKINSON
Hidden Meaning [I
774 774
dwell in Possibility—]
775
JOHN MILTON
from Paradise Lost
775
Contents t Metaphor and
778
Simile,
WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE mayst
me
in
[That time of year thou
behold]
780
Marks
LINDA PASTAN
xi
782
My Father's Garden 783 ROBERT FRANCIS Hogwash 784 ROBERT BURNS A Red, Red Rose 786 ADRIENNE RICH TwO SongS 787 DAVID WAGONER
RANDALL JARRELL
Gunner
The Death
of the Ball Turret
789
HART CRANE Forgetfulness 789 CAROLYN FORCHE Taking Off My Clothes 790 AGHA SHAHiD ALi The Dacca Gauzes 790 JOHN DONNE
God
.
.
[Batter
]
ANONYMOUS
my
heart, three-personed
791
.
The Twenty-thifd Psalm
792
Symbol, 792
SHARON OLDS
Leningrad Cemetery, Winter of
793 JAMES DICKEY 1941
The Leap 795 JOHN CLARE Love's Emblem 798 WILLIAM BLAKE The Sick Rose 800
EDMUND WALLER Song [Go, lovely rose!] JOHN GAY [Virgins are like the fair Flower Lustre] (from
The
EMILY DICKINSON Rose
—
Beggar's Opera)
[Go not too near
ALFRED, LORD TENNYSON son Petal
Pocm [The
Now
One
.VarltoJ:
rose
Sleeps the Crim-
Perfect Rose
KATHA POLLITT TwO Fish Roo BORSON After a Death GEORGE PEELE A Farewell
POETRY, 810
House of
803
DOROTHY PARKER
5 THE SOUNDS OF
a
803
fades]
HOWARD NEMEROV Glossary
its
802
802
]
WILLIAM CARLOS WILLIAMS
:-c
801 in
Questions
803
804 804 to
Arms
The Town Dump
805 805
Writing Suggestions, 807
helen chasin The Word Plum 810 mona van duyn What the Motorcycle Said
812
KENNETH FEARING Dirge 813 ALEXANDER POPE Sound and Sense 815 SAMUEL TAYLOR COLERIDGE Metrical Feet
818
XII
Contents
WENDY COPE ANONYMOUS
Emily Dickinson
Song [Why
JOHN SUCKLING
fond Lover?]
Oldham
and wan,
the
Memory
of Mr.
820
GWENDOLYN BROOKS MICHAEL HARPER
Queen
of the Blues
821
Dear John, Dear Col-
824
WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE
[Like as the waves
towards the pebbled shore]
ALFRED, LORD TENNYSON Break
SO pale
819
To
JOHN DRYDEN
trane
named
819
Struther] SIR
819
[A Staid schizophrenic
make
825
Break, Break,
826
A
THOMAS NASHE
Litany in
Time
of
826
Plague
Our Bog is Dood 827 EDGAR ALLAN POE The Raven 828 GERARD MANLEY HOPKINS Spring and Fall JUDITH WRIGHT "Dove-Love" 831 MARGE PIERCY To Have Without Holding IRVING LAYTON The Way the World Ends STEViE SMITH
EMILY DICKINSON Grass]
831
832
833
[A narrow Fellow in the
833
To the Time 834 JEAN TOOMER Reapers ROBERT HERRICK
Virgins, to
Make Much
of
Glossary
6
INTERNAL STRUCTURE, 837
835
Writing Suggestions, 835
Questions
EDWIN ARLINGTON ROBINSON Party
Mr. Flood's
837
HOWARD NEMEROV
The Goose Church Going
PHILIP LARKIN
PAT
MORA
840
843
846 Arrangements with Earth
Sonrisas
JAMES WRIGHT
Three Dead Friends 847 SHARON OLDS The Victims
ANONYMOUS T.S.ELIOT
Fish
Sir Patrick
848
Spens
851
Journey of the Magi
KARL SHAPIRO
Auto Wreck
852
853
ROO BORSON Save Us From 854 WILLIAM CARLOS WILLIAMS The Dance PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY
Wind
Ode
to the
West
856
MARGARET ATWOOD
Siren
for
Song
858
855
Contents LOUISE BOGAN
Cartography
Questions
Glossary
859
Writing Suggestions, 859
Student Writing, Structure and Language Victims" by Sharon Olds, 861
7 EXTERNAL FORM, 865
xiii
"The
in
Stanza Forms, 869
The Sonnet, 870
WILLIAM WORDSWORTH
Nuns
Fret
HENRY CONSTABLE
lady's
presence makes
the roses red]
[My
Not
870
871
On the Sonnet 873 WILLIAM WORDSWORTH The world JOHN KEATS
is
too
much
with us
874 HELEN CHASiN Joy Sonnet
in a
Random
Uni-
874 PERCY BYSSHE SHELLEY verse
Ozymandias 875 London, 1802 875 Sonnet to a Negro in
WILLIAM WORDSWORTH
HELENE JOHNSON Harlem 876 CLAUDE MCKAY The Harlem Dancer 876 JOHN MILTON [When I consider how my light spent]
is
877
ARCHIBALD LAMPMAN Winter Evening 877 SIR CHARLES G. D. ROBERTS The Potato Har878
vest
GWENDOLYN BROOKS Fiddle.
First Fight.
Then
878
The White House 878 [When Nature made her
CLAUDE MCKAY
SIR PHILIP SIDNEY
work, Stella's eyes]
[My
WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE nothing
chief
879
like the sun]
mistress' eyes are
879
Sweep Me Through Your Many-Chambered Heart 880 EDNA ST. VINCENT MILLAY [What lips my lips DIANE ACKERMAN
have kissed, and where, and why]
880
Examples of Stanza Forms, 881
DYLAN THOMAS
Do Not Go GcnUe
Good Night 881 MARIANNE MOORE Poetry ELIZABETH BISHOP
ISHMAEL REED
poem
Sestina
beware
Way
882
883
do not read
this
884
ARCHIBALD MACLEISH The
:
into
a
Poem
Ars Poetica
Looks, 886
885
That
7
XIV
T Contents
FRANKLIN E. E.
Composed
ADAMS
P.
Room
ing
Compos-
in the
886
CUMMINGS
[Buffalo Bill
The
STEVIE SMITH
887
's]
Jungle Husband
889
GEORGE HERBERT
Easter Wings 890 ROBERT HERRiCK The Pillar of Fame 8go BARBARA HOWES Mirror Image: Port-au-
Prince
891
CUMMINGS [l(a] 891 NORA DAUENHAUER Tlingit Concrete
E. E.
Poem
892
JOHN HOLLANDER A State of Nature 893 EARLE BIRNEY Anglosaxon Street 893
8 THE WHOLE
TEXT,
897
Writing Suggestions, 894
Questions
Glossary
Elizabeth Jennings
Delay
897
ANONYMOUS Western Wind 900 ROBERT HERRICK Upon Julia's Clothes
901
AUDEN Musee des Beaux Arts 903 GEORGE HERBERT The Collar 904 ANNE SEXTON With Mercy for the Greedy 905 EMILY DICKINSON [My Life had stood — a Loaded
w. H.
Gun — 906 ROBERT FROST Design ADRIENNE RICH Living ]
[My
ANONYMOUS wit]
907 in Sin
907
love in her attire doth
show her
908
Questions Writing Suggestions, 908 Student Writing, Tragedy in Five Stanzas: "Woodchucks," 909
Exploring Contexts
9 THE AUTHOR'S WORK AS CONTEXT: JOHN KEATS, 91
917
Howard nemerov A Way of Life JOHN DONNE The Sun Rising 921
918
^^^^ ^^^^^
Q^
pj|.jj
Looking
Homer
On On
into
Chapman's
923
the Grasshopper and the Cricket
Seeing the Elgin Marbles
from Endymion (Book
Wlien
I
Have Fears
To Sleep 926 Ode to a Nightingale Ode on a Grecian Urn
925
I)
925
926
929
924
924
Contents
Ode on Melancholy To Autumn 932
xv
931
Passages from Letters and the Preface to
Endymion
933
Chronology
Writing Suggestion, 938
Ouestions
10 THE AUTHOR'S WORK IN CONTEXT:
ADRIENNE
RICH, 940
937
At a Bach Concert
942
Storm Warnings 942 Snapshots of a Daughter-in-Law Orion
943
947
Leaflets
949 Planetarium 953 Dialogue
954 Diving into the Wreck
955
Power
957 Origins and History of Consciousness For the Record
Passages from Interviews and Essays
Chronology
960
968
Writing Suggestions, 969
Question
11
957
959
972
LITERARY TRADI-
Echo and
TION AS CONTEXT,
ANDREW MARVELL To His Coy Mistress 974 BEN JONSON Come, My Celia 975 MARIANNE MOORE Love in America? 975 HOWARD NEMEROV Boom! 976 ROBERT HOLLANDER You Too? Me Too— Why
971
Allusion,
Not? Soda Pop 978 WILLIAM BLAKE The Lamb
WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE gilded
monuments]
Poetic "Kinds,"
979
[Not marble, nor the
979
980
CHRISTOPHER MARLOWE The Passionate Shepherd to His Love 981 SAMUEL TAYLOR COLERIDGE What Is an Epigram? 984 BEN JONSON Epitaph on Elizabeth, L. H. 984 MARTIAL [You've told me, Maro, whilst you live] 985 [Fair, rich, and young? How rare is her perfection]
985
JOHN GAY My Own Epitaph 985 RICHARD CRASHAW An Epitaph upon Married Couple, Dead and Buried Together 985
a
Young
xvi
Contents
KENNEDY Epitaph for a Postal Clerk 986 COUNTEE CULLEN For a Lady Know 986 V. CUNNINGHAM History of Ideas 986 WENDY COPE Another Christmas Poem 987 WALTER SAVAGE LANDOR The Georges 987
X.
).
1
J.
Epigram
PETER PINDAR
987 Epigram: Political
HOWARD NEMEROV Reflexion
EDNA
987 VINCENT MILLAY
ST.
Fig 988 Second Fig 988 FRANCES CORNFORD Parting First
Imitating
SIR
Right
CUMMINGS
PETER DE
Raleigh
to the
Was
990
statues]
[(ponder,darling,these busted
991 VRIES
To
His Importunate Mis-
992
KENNETH KOCH
Variations on a
liam Carlos Williams
DESMOND SKIRROW marized
Ode
Theme
by Wil-
995 on a Grecian Urn Sum-
993
ANTHONY HECHT The Dover Bitch WENDY COPE [Not only marble, but toys]
988
The Nvmph's Reply
Shepherd 989 WILLIAM CARLOS WILLIAMS
tress
Wartime
and Answering, 988
WALTER RALEGH
E. E.
in
994 the plastic
994
Mythology and Myth, 995
JOHN HOLLANDER SUSAN DONNELLY
Adam's Task 996 Eve Names the Animals CHRISTINA ROSSETTI Eve 998 lOOO ALFRED, LORD TENNYSON Ulysses 1002 JAMES HARRISON Penclope MIRIAM WADDiNGTON UKsses Embroidered
EDNA
ST.
ture
1002
VINCENT MILLAY
LANGSTON HUGHES Rivers
An Ancient Ges-
1003
The Negro Speaks
of
1004
JUNE JORDAN Something Like a Sonnet 1004 Phillis Miracle Wheatley
MAYA ANGELOU
Africa
IOO5
for
997
Contents
xvii
DEREK WALCOTT A Far Cry from Africa 1005 ISHMAEL REED I Am a Cowboy in the Boat of Ra 1006 JUDITH ORTIZ GOFER How to Get a Baby ioo8 ALBERTO ALVARO RIOS Advice to a First Cousin
1009
DUNCAN CAMPBELL SCOTT The Onondaga Madonna 1010 CATHY SONG A Mehinaku Girl in Seclusion
1010
LOUISE ERDRICH
12 HISTORY AND
RAYMOND
CONTEXT, 1016
lOll
Writing Suggestions, 1013
PATTERSON
R.
Brave
CULTURE AS
Jacklight
Questions
Glossary
You Are
the
1018
THOMAS HARDY
Channel Firing
SANDRA GILBERT Journal
The
Sonnet:
1019
Ladies'
Home
1021
Times, Places, and Events, 1024
IRVING LAYTON From Colony to Nation CLAUDE MCKAY America 1025 LANGSTON HUGHES Harlem (A Dream Deferred)
1024
1025
ROBERT HAYDEN Frederick Douglass 1026 THOMAS HARDY The Convergence of the Twain 1026 WILFRED OWEN Dulce ct Decorum Est 1028 RICHARD EBERHART The Fury of Aerial Bombardment 1028 ROBERT BRINGHURST For the Bones of Josef Mengele, Disinterred June 1985 1029 Welcome to Hiroshima JO SALTER WILLIAM STAFFORD At the Bomb Testing
MARY
Site
1031
DUDLEY RANDALL Al
1030
Ballad of
Birmingham
Riot Act, April 29, 1992
1031
1032
Ideas and Consciousness, 1034
ANNA LAETITIA BARBAULD Washing-Day MARGE PIERCY What's That Smell in the Kitchen?
ELIZABETH
1036
When Was
KATHERiNE PHILIPS Awbrey 1037
EDNA
ST.
1034
I
Fair
L'amitie:
and Young
To
Mrs.
1036
M.
VINCENT MILLAY [Women have loved I love now] 1037
before as
xviii
Contents Married Love LIZ ROSENBERG 1038 ADRIENNE RICH Delta IO39 IO39 JUDITH ORTIZ GOFER Ulispoken SHARON OLDS The Elder Sister 1040 ERIGA JONG Penis En\7 1040 DOROTHY PARKER Indian Summer 1041
Annunciation
KAY SMITH
PAULETTE
3 THE PROCESS OF CREATION, 1046
1043
Writing Suggestions, 1043
Questions
1
1042
Paper Matches
JILES
RIGHARD wilbur This World
Love Calls Us
to the
Things of
1047
JOHN KEATS [Bright
would
star!
art!]
1049
La Belle
Dame
I
were
thou
stedfast as
sans Merci:
A
Ballad
1050
ALEXANDER POPE Ode on Solitude 1052 ANONYMOUS [O where ha' you been, Lord Ran-
my
dal,
son?]
1054
MARIANNE MOORE Poetry 1056 EMILY DIGKINSON [Safe in their Alabaster Chambers—] 1056 WILLIAM BLAKE The Tyger 1057
Evaluating Poetry
1059 WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE [Th' expense of spirit in waste of shame] 1063 WENDY GOPE [The expense of spirits is a crying shame]
1065
JOHN DONNE
Song [Go, and catch
IRVING LAYTON
Street Funeral
REGINA BARREGA
GEOFFREY HILL Fraser
1069
Nighttime Fires In
Memory
1070
of Jane
1071
GALWAY KINNELL
Blackberry Eating
Sky—]
1071
[The Brain — is wider than the
EMILY DIGKINSON 1072
Questions
w. H.
a falling
1066
star]
Reading More Poetry
a
Writing Suggestions, 1072
1075 AUDEN
In
Memory of W. B. Yeats The Armadillo 1077
1075
ELIZABETH BISHOP
SAMUEL TAYLOR GOLERIDGE Vision in a
Dream
1078
Kubla Khan:
or, a
Contents t
HART CRANE To Emily Dickinson Exile
CUMMINGS
town]
1080
[anyone lived in a pretty
how
1081
No
WARING CUNEY H. D.
1079
1080
Episode of Hands E. E.
xix
Images
1082
(HILDA DOOLITTLE)
Sea Rose
1082
Garden
1083
EMILY DICKINSON [Because
could not stop for Death
I
—
1084
]
reckon— when I count at all — 1084 [My life closed twice before its close — [We do not play on Graves — 1085 [Wild Nights-Wild Nights!] 1085 [I
]
1085
]
]
[She dealt her pretty words
like
1086 Blades-] [The Wind begun to knead the Grass
—
1086
]
JOHN DONNE
The Ganonization
1087
[Death, be not proud, though
some have
called
1088
thee]
A Valediction:
Forbidding Mourning
DOVE Parsley 1090 JOHN DRYDEN [Why should
1089
RITA
vow]
We Wear the
PAUL LAWRENCE DUNBAR
Mask T. s.
1092
The Love Song
ELIOT
frock
a foolish marriage
1092
of
J.
Alfred Pru-
1093
ROBERT FROST Range-Finding
1096
The Road Not Taken Stopping by Woods on ning
1097 a
Snowy Eve-
1097
THOMAS HARDY The Darkling Thrush
1098
During Wind and Rain GERARD MANLEY HOPKINS 1100 God's Grandeur
1099
The Windhover 1100 LANGSTON HUGHES Theme English B 1101 BEN JONSON To Penshurst A.
M. KLEIN
Heirloom
for
1105
1102
XX
Contents
To Amarantha, that She Would Dishevel Her Hair 1105 ROBERT LOWELL Skunk Hour 1106 ANDREW MARVELL The Garden 1108 RICHARD LOVELACE
1110 JOHN MILTON Lycidas MICHAEL ONDAATJE King Kong Meets Wallace
Stevens
1115
SYLVIA PLATH
Black Rook in Rainy Weather
Lady Lazarus
1116
1117
EZRA POUND
The Garden
1119
In a Station of the
Metro
JOHN CROWE RANSOM Daughter 1119
1119
John Whiteside's
Bells for
THEODORE ROETHKE The Dream 1120 I Knew a Woman 1122 The Waking
MURIEL RUKEYSER Reading Time
Myth
Minute 26 Seconds
1
:
1121
1122
1123
WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE [Hark, hark! the lark at heaven's gate sings]
[Two
1124
loves
have of comfort and
I
despair]
1124
Spring
1124
Winter
1125
WALLACE STEVENS Anecdote of the
The Emperor
Jar
1126
of Ice-Gream
1126
Sunday Morning 1127 ALFRED, LORD TENNYSON Tears, Tears
DYLAN THOMAS Fern Hill In
JEAN
1130
My Craft or TOOMER
the Voice
Sullen Art
A 1133
Galifornia's
1137
Hear America Singing
A Noiseless
1132
Poet Recognizing the
WALT WHITMAN Facing West from Shores
1132
Song of the Son
DIANE WAKOSKi
I
Idle
1130
Patient Spider
1137 1138
Echo of
Contents t WILLIAM CARLOS WILLIAMS Say
This
xxi
Just to
Is
1138
WILLIAM WORDSWORTH
Composed
Lines
a
Few
Miles above Tintern Abbey on Revisiting the
Wye During
Banks of the 1798 W.
B.
a
Tour, July
13,
1139
YEATS
Easter 1916
1142
The Second Coming
1145
Leda and the Swan Sailing to Byzantium
Among
1145
1146
School Children
Byzantium
1147
1150
DRAMA Drama: Reading, Responding, Writing
The Black and White
HAROLD PINTER SUSAN GLASPELL
Student Writing,
Understanding the Text CHARACTERIZATION, 1180
1297
Trifles,
1 1
76
marsha norman Cetting Out HENRiK IBSEN Hedda Gabler Questions
hellman
Glossary
Hamlet
The
Questions
1187
1234
Writing Suggestions, 1293
william Shakespeare LILLIAN
1160
1163
118O
Glossary
2 STRUCTURE,
Trifles
Writing Suggestions, 1174
Questions
1
1155
1306
Foxes
Little
1405
Writing Suggestions, 1457
Student Writing, The Play's the Thing: Deception Hamlet 1461
3 THE WHQLE
TEXT,
1466
Bernard SHAW Questions
Exploring Contexts
4 THEAUTHQR'S WQRKAS CONTEXT: ANTQN CHEKHQV, 1548
Pygmalion
1467
Writing Suggestions, 1545
1548
anton chekhov The Bear 1553
On
the Injurious Effects of
The Cherry Orchard Passages from Letters
Questions
Tobacco
1567
1607
Writing Suggestions, 1609
1564
in
2
xxii
T Contents
5 LITERARY CONTEXT:
TRAGEDY
AND COMEDY,
SOPHOCLES Oedipus the King 1614 OSCAR wiLDE The Importance of Being Earnest
1655
Questions
1611
6 CULTURE AS CONTEXT: SOCIAL
AND
HISTORICAL
Writing Suggestions, 1701
SHARON pollock Blood Relations august wilson Fences 1751
1710
Writing Suggestions, 1802
Questions
SETTING, 1703
Evaluating
Drama
1805 ARTHUR MILLER
Death of a Salesman
A Midsummer
WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE
Dream
i8l^
Night's
1885
Student Writing, Dream of a Salesman, 1942
Reading More Dranna
1946
SOPHOCLES Antigone TENNESSEE WILLIAMS Desire
1946
A
Streetcar
Named
1979
CARYL CHURCHILL
Top
2046
Girls
WRITING ABOUT LITERATURE INTRODUCTION, 2107
REPRESENTING THE LITERARY TEXT, 2108
Copying, 2108 Paraphrase, 2109
Summary, 2109
REPLYING TO THE
Imitation
TEXT, 2112
Re-creation and Reply, 21 13
EXPLAINING THE
Description,
TEXT, 2115
Analysis,
and Parody, 21
1
2115
2116
Interpretation, 21 17
Principles
and
Procedures, 2117
Reading and Theme Making,
2118
Opinions, Right and Wrong, 2120
Reader and Text, 2122
Contents Objectivism, 2126
CRITICAL
APPROACHES, 2126
Formalism, 2126
NEW
CRITICISM, 2126
Structuralism, 2127 Post-Structuralism, 2128
DECONSTRUCTION, 2129 Subjectivism, 2130
Psychological Criticism, 2130
FREUDIAN CRITICISM, 2130 LACANIAN CRITICISM, 2130 JUNGIAN CRITICISM,
2131
Phenomenological Criticism, 2131 Reader-Response Criticism, 2131
2132
Historical Criticism,
Dialogism, 2132
SOCIOLOGICAL CRITICISM, 2133 MARXIST CRITICISM, 2134 FEMINIST CRITICISM, 2135
New
Historicism, 2136
Pluralism,
2137
Further Reading on Critical Approaches, 2137
WRITING ABOUT FICTION, POETRY,
DRAMA, 2139
Narrative,
2139
Dramatization, 2141
Words, 2142
Sample Topics and
Titles,
2143
Fiction, 2143 Poetry, 2144
Drama, 2144 Intergeneric Topics, 2L45
Creative Topics, 2145
DECIDING
WHAT
TO WRITE ABOUT,
Having Something to Say, 2147
Choosing a Topic, 2148
2147 Considering Your Audience, 2150
FROM TOPIC TO ROUGH DRAFT,
Gathering Evidence, 2152 Organizing Your Notes, 21 55
2152 Developing an Argument, 2156 Writing the First Draft, 2158
FROM ROUGH
Revising,
DRAFT TO COMPLETED PAPER,
Reviewing Your Work and Revising Again, 21 60
2159
2159
xxiii
xxiv
Contents
A SUMMARY OF THE PROCESS, 2164
BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCHES, Al INDEX OF AUTHORS, A43 INDEX OF TITLES
AND
FIRST LINES,
A51
INDEX OF LITERARY TERMS, A59
FOREWORD TO THE SIXTH EDITION Reading
is
action.
Even though it is often done quietly and alone, reading is and a vigorous and demanding one. There is noth-
a profoundly social activity,
ing passive about reading;
it
requires attention, energy, an act of will. Texts have
the potenHal for meaning, implication, response, and result; but the reader activate
them, give them
must
and turn them from quiet print into a lively interReading makes things happen, usually in the mind
life,
play of ideas and feelings.
and imagination, but sometimes
in the larger
world as well, for the process of
reading involves not just the consciousness of the self but an awareness of the
other— what is beyond the self Reading doesn't just happen to you; you have to do it. and doing it involves decision, reaching out, discovery, awareness. Reading is an act of power, and learning how to get the most out of its possibilities can be an invigorating activity. For all its association with quietness, solitude, and the sedentary life, reading involves— at its deepest level — action and interaction. Through six editions, The Norton Introduction to Literature has been committed to helping students learn to read and enjoy literature. This edition, like those before
it,
offers
many
different ways of building
and reinforcing the
of reading; in addition to studying literature in terms of
emphasizes reading works tural.
We
in different
contexts— authorial,
have strengthened our offering of
new Form
edition with the addition of four
Border Stories" and "Literary
texts in
skills
elements, our book
its
historical,
and
cul-
contextual groups in this
chapters: to fiction, "Culture as Contexts:
Context:
as
The
Short Short Story"; to
"The Author's Work in Context: Adrienne Rich"; and to drama, "The Author's Work as Context: Anton Chekhov." Also, we have strengthened the poetry,
connection between reading and writing
The
introductory chapters to each genre
at several points
throughout the book.
— fiction, poetry, drama— first treat the
reading experience generally, then work to involve students in examining their
own
responses as a
first
step toward writing about literature.
New student papers,
roughly three for each genre, offer a variety of responses to selected writing suggestions.
And
as in previous editions,
we have provided many new
But the Sixth Edition remains more than
selections.
good things to read. The book offers in a single volume a complete course in reading and writing about literature. It is both an anthology and a textbook — a teaching anthology— for the indispensable course in which college student and college teacher begin to read literature, and to write about it, seriously together.
The works ture.
a grab-bag of
are arranged in order to introduce a reader to the study of litera-
Each genre
is
approached
in three logical steps. Fiction, for
example,
is
introduced by Fiction: Reading, Responding, Writing which treats the purpose
and nature of
fiction, the
reading experience, and the
first
steps
one takes
to
T Foreword to the Sixth Edition
xxvi
begin writing about
fiction.
Understanding the Text,
in
This
is
which
followed by the seven-chapter section called
stories are
analyzed by questions of
craft,
so-called elements of fiction; this section ends with a chapter entitled
Whole
Text," which makes use of
all
or
most of the analytical
the
"The
aids offered in
them together to see the work as a whole. The Exploring Contexts, suggests some ways of seeing a work of litera-
the previous chapters, putting third section,
ture interacting with
its
temporal and cultural contexts and reaching out beyond
the page.
The
sections
on reading, analyzing, and placing the work
in context are
followed, in each genre, by guidance in taking that final and extremely difficult step
— evaluation.
Evaluating Poetry, for example, discusses
about assessing the merits of two poems, not litmus
test,
how one would go
to offer definitive
judgments, a
show how one goes about modifying, articulating, and negotiating
or even a checklist or formula, but to
bringing to consciousness, defining,
one's judgments about a work of literature.
Ending each genre, Reading More for
facilitate
the
the reader's
is
a reservoir of additional examples,
The book's arrangement seeks to movement from narrower to broader questions, mirroring
independent study or
a different approach.
way people read — wanting to learn more as they experience more. offer a full section on Writing about Literature. In it we deal both with
We
the writing process as applied to literary works
— choosing
a topic, gathering
evidence, developing an argument, and so forth— and with the varieties of a reader's written responses, pretation:
we
from copying and paraphrasing
to analysis
and
inter-
explore not merely the hows, but the whats and whys as well.
In this section
we
also offer a discussion of critical approaches, designed to
provide the student with a basic overview of contemporary critical theory, as well as an introduction to
The
its
terminology.
Sixth Edition includes 52 stories, 17 of
of which are new; and 18 plays,
5
which
are new; 389
poems, 100
of which are new.
In fiction, we have added new stories by Rudolfo Anaya, Margaret Atwood, Toni Cade Bambara, Charles Baxter, Angela Carter, Denise Chavez, Kate Chopin, Julio Cortazar, Richard Dokey, Ernest Hemingway, Ha Jin, Yasunari Kawabata, Margaret Laurence, Reginald McKnight, Guy Vanderhaeghe, Eudora Welty, and Lynna Williams. The poetry section has been similarly infused with selections familiar and fresh, with newly included works by Ai, Elizabeth Alexander, Agha Shahid Ali,
Anna
Laetitia Barbauld, April Bernard, Earle Birney, Elizabeth Bishop, Louise
Bogan, Roo Borson, Emily Bronte, Gwendolyn Brooks, Mary, Lady Chudleigh, Judith Ortiz Gofer, Wendy Cope, Hart Crane, H. D., T. S. Eliot, Louise Erdrich, Carolyn Forche, John Gay, Louise Gltick,
Thomas
Gray, Barbara
Howes, Erica Jong, Archibald Lampman, Irving Layton, Edna St. Vincent Millay, Marianne Moore, Erin Moure, Susan Musgrave, Ricardo Pau-Llosa, Katherine Philips, Alberto Alvaro Ri'os, Sir Charles G. D. Roberts, Muriel Rukeyser, Duncan Campbell Scott, Richard Snyder, Derek Walcott, Edmund Waller, and
Walt Whitman.
New
selections to the
drama
section include
Anton Chekhov's The Cherry
Foreword
to the Sixth Edition
xxvii
Orchard, Caryl Churchill's Top Girls, Marsha Norman's Getting Out, Bernard
Shaw's Pygmalion, and Sophocles' Antigone. Certain editorial procedures that proved their usefulness in earlier editions
have been retained.
First of all, the
works are annotated, as
is
customary in
Norton anthologies; the notes are informational and not interpretative, for the aim is to help readers understand and appreciate the work, not to dictate a
meaning
or a response. In order to avoid giving the impression that
selection
all
literature
same time, we have noted at the right margin after each the date of first book publication (or, when preceded by a p, first peri-
was written
at the
when
odical publication or,
the date appears at the
left
margin, the year of
composition). In
all
our work on
this edition
we have been guided by
English departments and in our own, by students of the textbook they were using, and by those class as their teachers:
you
a solid
we hope
that with
and stimulating introduction
We
Acknowledgments in the love of literature
patience as
we
and
would
able to approach us after
are learning
from them
for their
example
our students,
for their
thank our teachers,
to
to offer
experience of literature.
in the art of sharing that love;
wives and children, for their understanding
made
who were
teachers in other
wrote us as the authors
such help we have been able
to the
like to
who
be better teachers of
when
literature;
our
the work of preparing this text
seem less than perfectly loving husbands and fathers. would also like to thank our colleagues, many of whom have taught our book and evaluated our efforts, for their constant encouragement and enlightenment. Of our colleagues at Emory University and the University of Chicago, we would like especially to thank Jim Boyle, John Bugge, Louis Corrigan, William B. Dillingham, Larry Eby, Mark Sanders, Ron Schuchard, Deborah Sitter, John us
We
Sitter, Sally
ert
Wolff King and Emily Wright (Emory) and Jonathan Martin, Rob-
von Hallberg, Michelle Hawley, Anne Elizabeth Murdy, Janel Mueller,
Vicky Olwell, Richard
Strier,
and John Wright (Chicago). For their help in we would like to thank Geneva Ballard,
selecting papers by student writers,
Theresa Budniakiewicz, Rebecca
S. Ries,
and Avantika Rohatgi, of Indiana Uni-
and Thomas Miller, Tilly Warnock, Goodman, Brendan McBryde, and Ruthe Thompson, at the University of Arizona. We also thank the students whose papers we include: Daniel Bronson, Geoffrey Clement, Teri Garrity, Meaghan E. Parker,
versity—Purdue University
at Indianapolis,
Lisa-Anne Culp, Loren
Sara Rosen, Sherry Schnake, Kimberly Smith, hac, and Caryl Zook. For their work
on the
Thaddeus Smith,
Instructor's
Guide,
Jeanette Sper-
we thank Gayla
McClamery and Bryan Crockett, Loyola College in Baltimore. And we thank also Elizabeth Alkagond, Columbia College; M. Bakersfield College; Marjorie Allen, LaSalle University; Preston Allen,
Dade Community Washington
State
Allen,
Miami-
College; Sally Allen, North Georgia College; Bruce Anawalt, University;
Anne Andrews,
Mississippi
State
University;
Charles Angel, Bridgewater State College; Booker Anthony, Fayetteville State University; Robert Arledge, Southern University at
son, University of Cincinnati; Janet Auten,
New Orleans;
American
Michael Atkin-
University; Sylvia Baer,
T Foreword to the Sixth Edition
xxviii
Counh
Gloucester
College;
Ravmond
Baile\,
Bishop State
Communitv Col-
Lee Baker, High Point College; Harold Bakst, Minneapolis Community' College; Nancv Barendse. Christopher Newport College; Chris Barkle\ Palomar College; Linda Barlow, Fayetteville State Uni\ersit}-; William Barnette, lege;
,
Prestonsburg Communit)' College; Dr. Barney, Citrus College; E. Bamton, Cal-
Maine; Shawn Hokkaido Universih; Nancy Beers, Temple University; Linda BenselMevers, Uni\ersit\ of Tennessee, Knoxville; Lawrence Berkoben, California State Universit}-; Tracey Besmark, ,-\shland Communit\- College; Barbara Bird, ifornia State University', Bakersfield; Harr\ E. Batty, University of
Beaty,
St.
Petersburg
Community
College; Lillian Bisson,
Marymount
College; Clark
Blom, Universit) of British Columbia; Roy L. Bond, Universitv of Texas at Dallas; Steven Bouler, Tuskegee University; Veleda Boyd. Tarleton State University; Helen Bridge, Chabot College; Sandra Brim,
Blaise, University of Iowa; T. E.
North Georgia College: Loretta
Brister,
Tarleton State Universit)
Patrick Brod-
;
Rosa Junior College; Robert Brophy, California State University,
erick, Santa
Long Beach; Theresa Brown,
Tufts Universit); William Brown, Philadelphia
College of Textiles and Science; Virginia Brumbach, Eastfield College; C. Bryant,
Colb) College; Edward Burns, William Paterson College of
Daniel Cahill, Universih of Northern Iowa; Martha Campbell,
New
St.
Jersey;
Petersburg
Tarpon Springs; William Campbell, Monroe CommuCommunity College; Nathan Garb, Rowan College of New Jersey; Roger Carlstrom, Yakima Valley Community College; Martha Carpentier, Seton Hall Uni\ersity; Anne Carr, Southeast Communih College; Conrad Carroll, Northern Kentucky Universit)'; Gisela Casines, Florida Internahonal University Ahwadhesh Chaudhan-, Texas College;
Community College
at
nih College; D. Cano, Santa Monica
;
Dr. Clark, Citrus College; John Glower, Indiana Universit)'-Purdue University at Indianapolis;
lege;
Steven Cole,
Temple
Universit)';
Cindy
Collins, Fullerton Col-
Kathleen Collins, Creighton University; Marianne Gonroy, McGill Uni-
versity;
Pat Conner,
Memphis
State
University;
Martha Cook, Longwood
College; Hollv Cordova. Contra Costa College; Susan Cornett,
Communitv College
St.
Petersburg
Tarpon Springs; Brian Corrigan, North Georgia College; Betty Goruni, Owensboro Community College; Beverly Cotton, Cerritos College; Delmar Crisp, Weslexan College; Virginia Critchlow, Monroe Community College; Carol Cunningham-Ruiz. Bakersfield College; Lennett Daigle, at
North Georgia College; Christopher Dark, Tarleton State University; Vivian Davis, Eastfield College; Hugh Dayvson, Universit) of San Francisco; Martha Dav. Richard Bland College; George Diamond, Moravian College; Helen
DiBona, North Carolina Central Universit); Sister Mar)' Colleen Dillon, College; Marvin Diogenes. Universit)' of -Arizona; Frank Dobson,
Thomas More
.
Minna Doskow Rowan Donald Dowdey, Virginia Wesleyan College; Bonnie Duncan. Upper Iowa University; Timoth) D)kstal, Auburn Universit)'; Wayne Indiana University'-Purdue Universit)'
College of
New
,
Jersey;
Eason, University of North Carolina
North Carolina
at Indianapolis;
at Charlotte;
Marv
at Charlotte;
Eiser,
Paula Eckard. Universit)' of
Kauai Communit)' College; Marianne
Eismann. Wake Forest Universit); Joyce Ellis, North Carolina Central UniverReed Ellis. St. John's Community College; Pegg) Endel, Florida Interna-
sit);
Foreword
to the Sixth Edition
t xxix
James Erickson, Wichita State University; Dessagene Ewing, Delaware County Community College; Jim Ewing, North Georgia College;
tional Universit)';
Sasha Feinstein, Indiana University; Charles Feldstein, Florida
Norman
Community
York University; Jean Fields, Lindenwood College; Mildred Flynn, South Dakota University; Eileen Foley, UniCollege
at Jacksonville;
Feltes,
versity of
Maine; Dolores Formicella, Delaware County Community College;
Ann
Gaines, North Georgia College; Dennis Gaitner, Frostburg State Uni-
Elsa
Reloy Garcia, Creighton University; Joseph Glaser, Western Kentucky
versity;
University;
Andrea Glebe, University of Nevada; Karen Gleeman, Normandale College; C. Golliher, Victor Valley College; Douglas Gordon,
Community
Christopher Newport College;
ham, Virginia Polytechnic
College of Philadelphia;
nit}'
Donna Gormly,
Institute
Ann
and
Eastfield College; Kathryn Gra-
Grob, Rice University; Lynda Haas, Hillsborough lege;
New
Mexico; Alan
Community
College; Flor-
Grigsby, University of
ence Halle, Memphis State University;
Commu-
State University; Pat Gregory,
Western Oregon State ColSydney Harrison, Manatee Community College; Joan Hartman, William Jerry Harris,
Patterson College; Charles Hatten, Bellarmine College; Bruce Henderson, Fullerton College;
Nancy Henry,
SUNY
College; Robert Herzog,
field
Clemson
University;
David
at
Binghamton; David Hernandez, East-
Monroe Community
Hill,
SUNY
College
at
College; Laura Higgs, Oswego; Robert Hipkiss,
California State University; David Hoegberg, Indiana University-Purdue University at Indianapolis;
Eartha Holley, Delaware State University; R. C. Hoover,
Wenatchee Valley College; Roger Horn, Charles County Community College; L.
C. Howard, Skyline College; Erlene Hubly, University of Northern Iowa;
William Hudson, Radford University; David Hufford, Iowa Western College; Deirdre Hughes, Fullerton College; Dr.
nit)'
Kathryn
lege;
Commu-
Humphrey, Citrus Col-
Montgomery Hunter, Northwestern
University
Medicine; Lisa Hunter, University of Wisconsin Medical School;
School P.
of
Hunter,
Los Angeles Valley College; Edelina Huntley, Appalachian State University; Robert Huntley, Washington and Lee University; Sharon
Irvin, Florida Institute
of Technology; Sylvia Iskander, University of Southwestern Louisiana; Eleanor
James,
Montgomery County Community College; Anne Johnson,
Jacksonville
State University; Christopher Johnson, Missouri Valley College; Craig Johnson,
Hillsborough Communit)- College; Darryl Johnson,
St.
Cloud
State University;
Dolores Johnson, Seattle University; Karen Johnson, Indiana University-Purdue
Owensboro Cloud State University; Frank KasKenney, Colby College; Don King, Central
University at Indianapolis; Dr. Jones, Citrus College; Grace Jones,
Community tor,
College; Walter Kalaidjian,
Wichita State University; E.
St.
University; Andrew Kirk, University of California, Davis; John KliIdaho State University; William Klink, Charles County Community ColMichael Krasny, San Francisco State University; Anne Krause, Yakima
Washington jinski,
lege;
Valley
Community
Onondaga Community ColMuhlenberg College; Donald Lawler, East Carolina Uni-
College; Harold Kuglemass,
lege; Stuart Kurland,
Lynn Lewis, Memphis State LJniversity; Vincent J. Liesenfeld, University Oklahoma; Jun Liu, California State University, Los Angeles; Travis Living-
versity;
of
ston, Tarleton State University; Lillian Liwag-Sutcliffe,
Old Dominion Univer-
XXX T Foreword to the Sixth Edition sih;
Man
Lo\\e-E\ans, Uni\ersit\ of West Florida; Michael Lund, LongAvood
Thomas Mack,
College; Kathleen Lyons, Bellarmine College;
Universitx of
South Carolina; Patricia MacN'augh, Lehigh Count) Community College; Emor}- Maiden, Appalachian State Universit); Christina Malcolmson, Bates College; Dexter Marks, Jersey Cit\ State College; William Martin, Tarleton State Universitx
.\rkansas
;
Frank Mason, Universit) of South Florida;
Communit\
College; Laura May,
St.
Petersburg
Pam
Mathis, North
Communit\
College;
Katherine Ma\Tiard, Rider College; R. Mc.\llister, Victor \ alley College; Kathleen McClov, Shoreline
Communit)
College; Bett\
J.
McCommas, Ouachita
McDonnell, Neumann College; Frank McLaughlin, Ramapo College; Thomas McLaughlin, Appalachian State Uni\ersit\; William McMahon, Western Kentucky Universit); Terrence McNally, Northern Kentucky Universit); Man McNarie, Universit)- of Hawaii; N\an McNeill, Foothill Baptist Universit}; Clare
College; Jay Meek, Universit)' of North Dakota; Ivan Melada, Universit)- of NewMexico; Donna Melancon, Xavier Unixersit)-; Linda Merions, LaSalle Universit\;
lege;
Darlene Mettler, Wesleyan College; R. Metzger, Los .\ngeles
Valle)-
Brian Michaels, Diane Middlebrook (Stanford Universit))
Community
Col-
John's
St.
College; Daniel Miller, Northern Kentucky Universit); George
Miller, Universit) of Delaware;
Ron
Miller, Universit) of
West
Florida; Leslie
Mittelman, California State Universit) Long Beach; Rosa Mizerski, West X'alley ,
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J.B..
J.P.H.
The Norton Introduction
to
LITERATURE SIXTH EDITION
i
V V V
FICTION
V V V
Reading,
Fiction:
Responding, Writing
SPENCER HOLST The Zebra Once upon
Storyteller
a time there was a Siamese cat
who pretended
to
be a Hon and
spoke inappropriate Zebraic.
That language is whinnied by the race of striped horses in Africa. Here now: An innocent zebra is walking in a jungle and approaching from another direction
is
the
little cat;
they meet.
"Hello there!" says the Siamese cat in perfectly pronounced Zebraic. certainly
is
a pleasant day, isn't
it?
The sun
"It
shining, the birds are singing, isn't
is
the world a lovely place to live today!"
The
zebra
why— he's So the
is
just little
so astonished at hearing a
fit
to
be
Siamese cat speaking
like a zebra,
tied.
cat quickly hes
him
up,
kills
him, and drags the better parts of
the carcass back to his den.
The filet
ties
cat successfully
hunted zebras many months in this manner, dining on night, and fi-om the better hides he made bow neck-
mignon of zebra every and wide
belts after the fashion of the
decadent princes of the Old Siamese
court.
He began
boasting to his friends he was a lion, and he gave
them
as
proof
the fact that he hunted zebras.
The
delicate noses of the zebras told
neighborhood.
The zebra
deaths caused
them
there was really
many to avoid the
no
lion in the
region. Superstitious,
they decided the woods were haunted by the ghost of a lion.
Spencer Hoist
4
One
day the
stotyteller of the zebras
plots for stories to
and he
amuse
said, "That's
our language!
Just then the
ant day today,
The
tell a
I'll
it!
What an
cat
when suddenly
make 'em
his
mind
ran
his eyes brightened,
who
about a Siamese cat
story
idea! That'll
Siamese
was ambhng, and through
the other zebras,
learns to speak
laugh!"
appeared before him, and
said,
"Hello there! Pleas-
isn't it!"
zebra storyteller wasn't
fit
be
to
tied at
hearing a cat speaking his lan-
guage, because he'd been thinking about that very thing.
He
took a good look at the
something about killed
and he didn't know why, but there was
cat,
he didn't
his looks
he kicked him with
like, so
a
hoof and
him.
That
the function of the storyteller.
is
1971
The
Zebra
for the ries
be
Though
unexpected.
When
in
the extraordinary occurs
— like a
alone
able to protect his tribe against the unheard-of.
Other them,
it,
and he
George
hopes and
fears (such
in their everyday lives, so
Eliot's novel
Adam
Bede, Hetty
being paid admiring attention by the young squire, and she dreams of
is
elopement, marriage, will
sto-
being preyed on by the ghost of
and shows them what they can actually expect
that they can prepare themselves. In
Sorrel
spinning
the function of fiction less extraordinar)'. According
fiction enables readers to avoid projecting false
as the zebras' superstitious belief that they are
a lion)
just
prepare us
prepared because he has already imagined
is
make
storytellers
to
Siamese cat speaking
— the storyteller
to
is
is
order to amuse, his stories prove to
Zebraic is
stories
the stor)teller thinks he
own imagination
out of his
practical.
purpose of
Stor)1:eller" suggests that the
all sorts
of vague pleasures.
She does not dream
that she
be seduced, made pregnant, abandoned. Her imagination has not been
trained to project any "narrative" other than her dreams: "Hett\a novel,"
George
Eliot tells us, "[so]
how
had never read
could she find a shape for her expec-
tations?"
We
are
all stor\1:ellers,
then, of one stripe or another. VVTienever
the future or ponder a decision,
through narrative. Whether we
we
are telling stories
tell stories
we plan
— projecting expectations
or read them,
we
are educating our
imaginations, either extending our mental experience in the actual, as Hetty
might have done by reading novels, or preparing ourselves and unexpected,
The fiction.
actual
like the
and the
extraordinar)' suggest
Sometimes we want
places, experiences,
for the extraordinar)'
zebra stor\teller.
to read
and ideas
two different uses readers make of
about people
that are familiar
like ourselves, or
about
and agreeable. Most of us
ini-
The Zebra tially
American
prefer
remote
in
we can
before
lives
literature
and twentieth-century
time or place. Indeed, find
them
literature to literature
must somehow be
stories
Storyteller t 5
matter what our literary experience and
most of us
taste,
story that
mentions our hometown or neighborhood or the name of the
of the
many
like us,
walk along on our way
to
things that fiction
world around
escape.
On
we want
thing
last
must be relevant enough
If fiction
speaking Zebraic.
own
It
different, strange
So, in addition to
What
many
stories
do not
own background and
must
experience,
own time and last
own. place,
century, a few
few written about worlds that have not
a
shows us or teaches us we may
a story
it
(yet) exist.
we were unaware
These perceptions may be the messages boil
"Hurting people
down
is
if
message— an
much
to agree with
we had
less
what
those eyes
Western
what
it's
discover that
in everybody,"
seems"
— messages
literature, to deliver.
a story says or
and were
as
we soon
it
objective,
We gradually
with perceptions.
good and bad not what
is
means
life
stories deal
translated into messages, but
wrong," and "Everything
we do not have
its
much what
to things like "There's
not need Western Union,
are convinced that
call
of before reading the story.
Rather than abstract or "objective" truths,
Indeed,
us,
perhaps, as a Siamese cat
about approximately our
and
like
to
ourselves, out of the confining vision
learn, however, that stories tell us not so
we do
meaningfully to
to relate
includes a sprinkling of stories written in the
universal truth that
like.
one
like our-
and places and times
lives,
conditioned by our
is
written in vastly different cultures, existed or
about people
a story
is
that there are ways of looking at the world other than our
this collection
street
that
learning about ourselves and the
is
— as strange,
must take us out of
which
eyes,
and show us
No one would deny
such occasions we want (or are accused of wanting)
be "irrelevant,"
of our
"for"
experiences like those of our everyday
here and now.
also
may be
to school.
us.
But occasionally the selves,
way
relate in a special
about people
we used
No
experiences like our own, and especially to a
to stories
that
own
related to our
intellectually or emotionally meaningful.
shows so long
there, this
is
as
we
what we might
see.
Whenever we can beyond the
able to see a ing that
were
say yes,
limitations of our
new
we can
we
are convinced, then
own
world, or the
vision,
is
see things differendy,
too often the case,
face value;
we have been
we
own
same old world
we
fixed, objective entities "out there,"
Or, as
our
we have been
past
in a
able to go
and conditions.
new
way.
And by
We
are
recogniz-
realize that things
we used
were fixed only
our perceptions.
realize that
in
we have been accepting
to think
things at
perceiving what habit and convention have told us
is
6
Elizabeth Tallent
"really there." Stories, then, inav
example,
"know"
\vc
niond-shaped. eertain angle table top
we
We
a table top
if
we were
when
v\c look at
though we'\e always "known"
angle, but
it
from
it
Wc
a tabic top
as one. 'I'he story has not onl\-
it
we mav be
that
mean
How
has helped us to sharpen our
a
square,
own
vision,
so
each projects a future. The
wc cannot
less in
tell
which projection
own
the middle of our
future, both jack
li\es.
is
stor\',
right.
she has
ity,
and the narrator learn through
futures.
George
now
And
so
Eliot's Hetty, projecting a
at least
we
are
their storytelling that
dream
more
or
not get to know the
than one scenario of the future can be projected. Even as naive as
in the present,
Like the characters,
may
actu-
from another
and Jack are
however, remains
'I'hough they
do
that
our own experience.
In the stor\' that follows, both the eighteen-year-old narrator stor)-tellers:
that the
we recognize
realit\-
a
often
ue mav have never
allowed us to see
dia-
it is
from
a certain angle?
look again, and
is
told
to look at the table top
would appear diamond-shaped. But doesn't
it
look at a table top from that angle?
ally seen
look at things for ourselves. For
to
square, but in a stor\
understand that
square only
is
awaken ns
is
if
we
more
think the narrator
rather than a possible real-
"read Jack's novel," so she knows there are alternative
do we.
ELIZABETH TALLENT
No One's my
For little
eighteenth birthdav Jack gave
key, light as a dime.
I
was
a
me
Mystery a fivc-)ear diar\' with a latch
sitting beside
him
and
a
scratching at the lock, which
seem to want to work, when he thought he saw his wife's Cadillac in the coming toward us. He pushed me down onto the dirtv' floor of the pickup and kept one hand on my head while I inhaled the musk of his cigarettes in the dashboard ashtrax' and sang along w ith Rosanne Cash on the tape deck. We'd been drinking tequila and the bottle was between his legs, resting up against his crotch, where the seam of his Levi's was bleached linen-white, though the Lev i's were nearly new don't know why his Le\ i's always bleached didn't
distance,
.
like
that along the seams and
I
at the knees. In a
curve of cloth his zipper glinted,
gold. "It's
her,"
he
"She keeps the
said.
single habit in a
woman
was going
still
to stay
that irritates
he took
his
lights
on
in the
me more
daytime.
than that."
I
cant think of
When
hand from m\- head and ran
it
he saw that
through his
a I
own
dark hair.
"Wliy docs she?"
"She thinks
it's
I
said.
safer.
Wh\' does she need
to
be safer? She's driving exactlv
No One's fift)-five craft.' It
Mystery t 7
a
miles an hour. She beheves in those signs: 'Speed Monitored by Air-
up and see
doesn't matter that you can look
move,
"She'll see your lips
know
Jack. She'll
that the sky
is
empty."
you're talking to someone."
"She'll think I'm singing along with the radio."
He his
didn't
his head, just raised the fingers in salute while the pressure of
lift
palm steadied the wheel, and
was driving
stitched into the leather
I
heard the Cadillac honk twice, musically; he
an hour.
easily eighty miles
The
studied his boots.
I
elk heads
were bearded with frayed thread, the toes were scuffed,
a compact wedge of muddy manure between the heel and the same boots he'd been wearing for the two years I'd known him. On the tape deck Rosanne Cash sang, "Nobody's into me, no one's a mystery." "Do you think she's getting famous because of who her daddy is or for her-
and there was sole
— the
self?" Jack said.
"There are about little
"No
hundred pop tops on the floor, did you know on one of these. Jack."
Some
that?
kids get into this truck except for you."
little
"How come you "
a
kid could cut a bare foot
'How come,'
into the seat
let
it
get so dirt}?"
he mocked. "You even sound
if
you want. She's not going
now,
"
You can
like a kid.
to look over
get back
her shoulder and see
you."
"How do you know?" "I just It's
know," he
in the air. Like
"What
will
I
said.
be writing?"
to look at the butterfly
ming was dazzling
I
know
you'll
I'm going to get meat loaf for supper.
be writing
in that diary."
my side of the seat and craned around on my jeans. Outside the window Wyo-
knelt on
I
of dust printed
in the heat.
smoothly by the thin
hidden
"Like
know what
I
dirt road.
I
The wheat was fawn and could smell the water
yellow and parted
in the irrigation ditches
in the wheat.
"Tonight
you'll write,
can't imagine
'I
love Jack. This
is
my
anybody loving anybody more than
birthday present from him. I
love Jack.'
I
"
"I can't."
"In a year you'll write, I
spent so
many
something about "I
'I
wonder what
ever really saw in Jack.
I
days just riding around in his pickup. sex.
It's
true there wasn't ever
much
It's
else to
true
do
in
I
wonder why
he taught
me
Cheyenne.'
"
won't write that."
"In two years you'll write, 'I wonder what that old guy's name was, the one with the curly hair and the filthy dirty pickup truck and time on his hands.' " "I
won't write that."
"No?" "Tonight I'll write, 'I love Jack. This is my birthday present from him. imagine anybody loving anybody more than I love Jack.' " "No, you can't," he said. "You can't imagine it." "In a year
I'll
write, 'Jack
should be
my
grandmother's linen and her old from the wedding— but I don't know Navarra
to
make
lo\e to him.'
"
home any minute now. The I
can't
table's set— and the yellow candles left over can wait until after the trout a la
silver if
I
8
Elizabeth Tallent
must have been
"It
"In two years for his supper.
I'll
He
a fast divorce."
should be home by now. Little Jack is hungry word today besides "Mama" and "Papa." He said
write, 'Jack
said his
first
"kaka."
"He was probably trying when you heard him say it."
Jack laughed.
room
wall
"In three years
Rosamund.'
write,
I'll
"
'My nipples
are a
little
with kaka on the bath-
sore from nursing Eliza
"
"Rosamund. Every
30
to finger-paint
little girl
'Her breath smells
should have
like vanilla
a
middle name she hates."
and her eyes are
just Jack's
color of blue.'
"
"That's nice," Jack said.
"So, which one do you like?" "I like 35
yours," he said. "But
doesn't matter.
"It
"Not
in
I
I
believe mine."
believe mine."
your heart of hearts, you don't."
'Tou're wrong." "I'm not wrong," he said. "And her breath would smell like your milk, and
(
it's
kind of a bittersweet smell,
if
you want
to
know
the truth."
1985
Since Jack and the narrator are not zebras but people you
maybe even people somewhat
real,
take sides.
the
One
may
think of as
feel in a position to
of the pleasures of reading and one of the ways of penetrating
meaning and
effectiveness of stories
which often begin with your rooting ing one character or the other.
Our
is
through your emotional responses,
identifying with, admiring, or despis-
for,
wishes and
and the kind of world we imagine
tions,
you may
like yourself,
our expectations and emo-
fears,
that the characters inhabit
the major register of our emotional responses to fiction.
moves from reading
to writing
about
fiction
may
And one
make up
of the
first
well involve this "partisan-
ship."
Some
of your emotional responses to a story will
or second-hand experience. that in
"No One's
in a situation
somewhat
a Mystery" (as the narrator, the wife, or Jack),
were
in the triangle
story.
Or,
if
You may have been
come from your own
you are
may have something a cat-lover with four
to
kittens,
like
and who you
do with how you respond
Siamese
first-
to the
you may not be able
fully to identify with the zebra stor)1:eller.
There are two views emphasized ters
you might
may
identify or side with.
in
"No One's
How
do you
a Mystery,"
feel
two main charac-
about the narrator? You
think she's a fool for getting involved with a married man, or immoral,
and so perhaps you
feel bitter
about her projections of a married
life
with Jack,
No One's and believe they
will
her dreams poignant true),
while Jack
the truth
lies
somewhere
You
with others.
early paper in
Or you may
argue for the
right, or that
story's third
your
elicit
of a story like this in essay form before
then have a record of your uninfluenced,
will
may be
unchallenged view. Later, you
mates do not agree with you. But
may
An
the projections into the future of Jack
argue that both are wrong, both
down your view
sympathy. Try writing it
to
between.
and find
identify with her,
you think they might come
who, though not embodied, may nevertheless
character, the wife,
discussing
in
(if
as either realistic or cynical.
may have you defend
You may wish
or the narrator.
Or you may
true.
hopeless) or uplifting
(if
may be viewed
course
a literature
come
never
Mystery t 9
a
some of your
surprised to find that
in discussing or arguing for
class-
your views you
discover not only that there are reasonable differences of opinion, but that
what one believes about the future beyond the
A second paper may be
that person.
position or a composite or
with classmates.
And you may want
These ideas
They
show
for papers are
also suggest
else's
discussion and exchange
what you learned about yourself
to look at
stovf.
meant
to
be more than suggested writing assign-
one way of writing about
that writing about a story
something about
story reveals
an argument with someone
new view based on your
from your arguments about the
ments.
either
literature
not some special or arcane
is
and art
are
but
meant
just a
to
some-
what more formal, responsible, committed way of talking about what you have read.
Think of the
last
discussing the film.
them
If
carefully, think
time you saw a movie with a friend and
you were
call
it
put such responses
about them a
convincing, you've taken the
could even
to
first
bit,
and
try to
and
real
about them,
the theater
paper, look at
make vour views
or responses
You
literary criticism. stories as if
happenings, and writing about your responses is
left
step toward writing about literature.
Writing about the characters and events in ple
down on
only one kind of writing about literature.
they were real peoto
and opinions
You can
only write
such a paper after you have read the whole story and formed an opinion, and your "argument" will involve going back to the story seeking out details to support your position, and, perhaps, situating
where you are coming from
in
terms
of personal experience, moral or religious views, and so on. But reading a story is
not
first
just
of
all
something
argue or even think about after you have read
to
an experience
— made
up of thoughts and
feelings
it.
It is
— that happens
while you are in the very act of reading.
One story
is
of the things most of us do
to anticipate or interpret:
a given character?
how
is
when we
what
will
are actively
engaged
in reading a
happen next? what kind of person
the world of the story related to the world as
I
know
is
10 T Elizabeth Tallent
what kind of a
it?
story
is it?
will
the world, and
nouns
take the
may be thought
end happily or not? You
it
One
aspects to such anticipation.
will notice
of as referential or representational; that
to refer to real things
— the word
up
table calls
more
a
concrete image of a table— and from the words describing characters ine
more
or less real people
actually real.
We
and
and choices
their actions
have discussed "No One's a Mystery"
as
Jack were real people living in the real world, specifically aspect
literary.
is
We
pay attention
just to
even play with these referential and
from one aspect
shifting
literary aspects of
The
to another.
astonished, and the words say "he's just
of speech, and
We up.
are surprised, then,
when
be
to
Wyoming. The other to their
the story does: "So the
are aware that a story
though we
end not
This
little
with
a story
is
tell stories is
a
was
common
figure
referentially.
cat quickly ties
him
that telling a story involves certain
imagine them
as
happening
known. Different kinds of stories,
and sometimes other
"Once upon
stories,
in the past tense,
kind of present, with the
woman
stories
own
have their
"The Zebra
conventions:
Storyteller,"
ghost stories and certain other
a time"; in
and comic
in a
too,
fantasies, like
almost always a beautiful young
adventure
and
— for example, stories are generally written
like to
yet
fairy tales
title
of the story that follows,
inherited? Our ence—how we anticipation
guide
us,
is
anticipation
threatened by danger; these
almost always end happily, and so on.
"The
jewelry,"
channeled by
triggered by the
title.
we
first-
start: will it
if
we
tells
are to anticipate
title,
ration of the entire story.
but soon,
us that
we
read
lost? stolen?
life
experi-
do not come with
titles
and understand. Perhaps not
we begin
Based on our own
to anticipate a
real
stor)-,
but always connected to
it
as
titles to
are significant, worth as early
shape or configu-
experiences and what we've
project a vague shape early on, frequently adjusting
through the
be
or second-hand
Life experiences
but our reading experience
our reading of the
we
there
stories,
think jewelry functions in "the real world." Notice that this
paying attention to
read,
is
begin
scan,' stories
Anticipation begins at the beginning— or even earlier. As soon as
as
can
.
We
the
them,
words, surprising us by
words "seriously" or
to take the
sounds,
like
jewels. Stories
did not
tied."
not
if
." .
conventions
is
we do not expect
who
zebra
fit
or less
we imag-
the narrator and
words that look or sound
what they denote — tables or Cadillacs or
we
is,
as potentially if
words themselves,
to the
their connotations, their relation to other
and not
two
involves our experience, direct or indirect, in
we
read on.
it
as
we proceed
With the
first
sen-
— "Having met the girl one evening, at the house of the tence of "The Jewelry" office-superintendent, M. Lantin became enveloped in love as in a net" — we begin casting our
own
net.
The
story will involve love.
What do we know
or
1
The Jewelry t believe about love? about different kinds of love? about the possible
of falling in love?
What
not yet prepared to define that connection, but tions about
it.
Though
outcomes
We
the connection between love and jewelry?
is
the
sentence
first
we may have
1
are
tentative expecta-
may be summarized
in "real" or expe-
riential terms as "M. Lantin has fallen (deeply) in love," the precise words in
the sentence that describe falling in love are
Does
net."
merely emphasize
this
how
"became enveloped
in love as in a
deeply he has fallen in love or
is
there
something uncomfortable, painful, even ominous about the words— note, about the words
what the our
story
— "enveloped as in a net"? How we anticipate and
"means" or
about
"says
life" will
experience, by such literary "devices" as the
life
interpret
be conditioned throughout by title,
by the precise words
of the story, and by our experience with kinds of stories and what usually hap-
pens and eventuates in such tions,
however, and alert
to
We
stories.
must remain
tentative in our expecta-
changes and modifications;
for
when
example,
fourth paragraph of this story concludes with "and [he] married her,"
abandon the love-and-courtship
new
story
we
the
we must
anticipated and imagine an entirely
set of possibilities.
GUY DE MAUPASSANT The Jewelry^ Having met the
girl
one evening,
at the
house of the office-superintendent, M.
Lantin became enveloped in love as in a net.
She was the daughter of a Afterward she had
come
country-tutor,
to Paris
several bourgeois families of the
who had been dead for several years. who made regglar visits to
with her mother,
neighborhood, in hopes of being able
daughter married. They were poor and respectable, quiet and gende.
seemed
girl
man dreams shyness;
to
be the very ideal of that pure good
of entrushng his future.
and the
woman
to
Her modest beauty had
slight smile that always
dwelt about her
lips
to get
her
The young
whom
every young charm of angelic seemed a reflection a
of her heart.
Everybody sang her gets her will
M.
be lucky.
Lantin,
praises; all
No one
who was then
who knew
her kept saying: "The
could find a nicer
girl
man who
than that."
chief clerk in the office of the Minister of the
Interior, with a salar)' of 3,500 francs a year,"
demanded her hand, and married
her. 1.
Translated by Lafcadio Hearn,
$30,000 today.
2.
A
midlevel bureaucratic wage, perhaps about $25,000-
Guy de Maupassant
12 T
He
v\as
seemed
to live in luxury-.
conceive of any attentions, tendernesses,
pla\-fiil
home
with an economy would be impossible to caresses which she did not lav-
unutterably liapp\ with her. She ruled his
so adroit that they really
It
upon her husband; and such was the charm of her person that, six years after he married her, he loved her even more than he did the first day. There were only two points upon which he ever found fault with her — her ish
love of the theater,
Her
and her passion
for false jewelrv.
lad\-friends (she was acquainted with the wives of several small office
holders) were always bringing her tickets for the theaters;
whenever there was a had her loge secured, even for first performances; and she would drag her husband w ith her to all these entertainments, which used to tire him horribly after his day's work. So at last he begged her to go to the theater w ith some lady-acquaintances who would con-
performance that made
home
sent to see her
a sensation, she always
She refused
afterward.
for quite a
not look very well to go out thus unaccompanied
she yielded,
Now
just to please
him; and he
her sweet grace, her
charm from
evoked
remained simple, always
toilette
while
in
in
it
would
her therefor.
her the desire of dress.
good
taste,
e\er smiling and shy,
irresistible grace,
— thinking
her husband. But finally
felt infinitely grateful to
this passion for the theater at last
was true that her
b\-
It
but modest; and
seemed
to take fresh
the simplicit\ of her robes. But she got into the habit of suspending
in her pretty ears
two big cut pebbles, fashioned
in imitation of
diamonds; and
she wore necklaces of false pearls, bracelets of false gold, and haircombs studded with paste-imitations of precious stones.
Her husband, w ho felt shocked bv this lo\ e of tinsel and show would often say— "My dear, when one has not the means to afford real jeweln, one should appear adorned with one's natural beautv and grace only— and these gifts are ,
the rarest of jewels."
But she would smile sweetly and answer: "WTiat does things
— that my is
o\'er again. I've
little
whim.
I
know you
are right; but
it
matter?
I
like those
one can't make oneself
always lo\'ed jewelr)' so much!"
And then she would roll the pearls of the necklaces between her fingers, and make the facets of the cut cr\stals flash in the light, repeating: "Now look at them — see how well the work is done. You would swear it was real jewelr\-."
He would
then smile
in his turn,
and declare
to her:
"You have the
tastes of
a regular Gvpsy."
Sometimes, would rise and
in the evening,
when
they were having a chat by the
fire,
she
morocco box in which she kept her "stock" (as M. Lantin called it) — would put it on the tea-table, and begin to examine the false jewelry with passionate delight, as if she experienced some secret and mysterious sensations of pleasure in their contemplation; and she would insist on putting one of the necklaces round her husband's neck, and laugh till she couldn't laugh anv more, crying out: "Oh! how funn\ vou look!" Then she would rush into his arms, and kiss him furiously. One w inter's night, after she had been to the Opera, she came home chilled through, and trembling. Next day she had a bad cough. Eight days after that, she died of pneumonia. fetch the
The Jewelry t 13 Lantin was ful that in
ver\'
nearly following her into the tomb. His despair was so fright-
one single month
He wept from morning
his hair turned white.
till
haunted by the
night, feeling his heart torn by inexpressible suffering— ever
memon,' of her, by the smile, by the voice, by all the charm of the dead woman. Time did not assuage his grief Often during office hours his fellow-clerks went off to a corner to chat about this or that topic of the day— his cheeks might to swell up all of a sudden, his nose w rinkle, his eyes fill with water— he would pull a frightful face, and begin to sob. He had kept his dead companion's room just in the order she had left it, and he used to lock himself up in it every evening to think about her— all the furniture, and even all her dresses, remained in the same place they had been on the
have been seen
last
day of her
But
amply
life.
became hard
life
sufficed for
all
for
him. His
household needs,
salary,
which, in
now proved
his wife's hands,
had
scarcely sufficient to supply
own few wants. And he asked himself in astonishment how she had managed him with excellent wines and with delicate eating which he could not now afford at all with his scanty means. He got a little into debt, like men obliged to live by their wits. At last one
his
always to furnish
morning
that
whole week
he happened
to wait before
to find
himself without a cent in his pocket, and a
he could draw
his
monthly
he thought of
salar)',
and almost immediately it occurred to him to sell his wife's "stock" — for he had always borne a secret grudge against the flash-jewelry that used to annoy him so much in former days. The mere sight of it, day after day,
selling something;
somewhat spoiled the sad pleasure of thinking of his
He left
tried a
long time to
behind her— for up
buying them, bringing
make
a choice
to the very last
among
day of her
home some new
darling.
the heap of trinkets she had life
she had kept obstinately
thing almost every night— and finally
he resolved to take the big pearl necklace which she used to like the best of all, and which he thought ought certainly to be worth six or eight francs, as it was really very nicely
He vards,
put
it
mounted
for
an imitation necklace.
and walked toward the office, follow ing the boulesome iewelr,-store on the way, where he could enter with
in his pocket,
and looking
for
confidence.
went in; feeling a little ashamed of thus exposing and of trying to sell such a trifling object. "Sir," he said to the jeweler, "please tell me what this is worth." The jeweler took the necklace, examined it, weighed it, took up a magnifying glass, called his clerk, talked to him in whispers, put down the necklace on the counter, and drew back a little bit to judge of its effect at a distance. Finally he saw a place and
his misery,
M. Lantin, feeling ver}' much embarrassed by mouth and began to declare — "Oh! I know when the jeweler interrupted him saying: his
"Well,
cannot
sir,
bu\'
it
that
is
worth between twelve and
unless you can let
me know
all it
these ceremonies, can't be worth
fifteen
exactK' how^
opened
much"
.
thousand francs; but
\ou came by
.
.
I
it."
The widower's eves opened enormoush, and he stood gaping— unable to Then after a while he stammered out: "You said? Are vou sure?"
understand.
.
.
.
"
14 T Guy de Maupassant
The jeweler, misconstruing tone— "Go elsewhere if you very most if
would
you can't do
M. a
I
and see
like,
it is
if
Come
for
back and see
The
it.
me
again,
better."
confused desire to find himself alone and
moment he found
and he muttered
him
you can get any more
thousand.
fifteen
Lantin, feeling perfectly idiotic, took his necklace and departed; obeying
But the
^o
give for
the cause of this astonishment, rephed in a dr\
at his
to himself:
word. Well, well!
chance
to get a
to think.
himself in the street again, he began to laugh,
"The
—a
fool!
jeweler
— oh!
who
what
can't
a fool; If
I
had only taken
paste from real jewelr\'!"
tell
And he entered another jewel r)'-store, at the corner of the Rue de la Paix. The moment the jeweler set eyes on the necklace, he examined — "Hello! know that necklace well — it was sold here! M. Lantin, very nervous, asked: I
"What's "Sir,
I
it
worth?"
sold
it
thousand francs.
for twenty-five
again for eighteen thousand legal presciptions,
how you came
sir. I
The
always thought imtil
"Certainly.
me
now
your name,
My name
of the Interior.
I
live at
is
No.
The merchant opened sent to the address of
And
willing to
buy
it
back
that
it
"Well
said:
was
.
.
.
was
.
.
.
M. Lantin
but please look
at
it
false."
jeweler said:
"Will you give
35
am
into possession of it"— This time,
was simply paralyzed with astonishment. He again,
I
— if you can prove to me satisfactorily, according to
the tuo
men
sir?"
Lantin; 16,
I
Rue
am employed
at the office of the
Minister
des Mart)'rs."
the register, looked, and said: "Yes; this necklace was
Madame
Lantin, 16
Rue
des Martyrs, on July 20th, 1876."
looked into each other's eyes
— the clerk wild with surprise;
the jeweler suspecting he had a thief before him.
The
jeweler resumed:
"Will you be kind enough to lea\e this article here for t\vent\-four hours
40
only— I'll give you a receipt." M. Lanhn stuttered: "Yes-ah!
certainh."
And he went
out folding up the
which he put in his pocket. Then he crossed the street, went the wrong way, found out his mistake, returned bv way of the Tuileries, crossed the Seine, found out he had taken the wrong road again, and went back to the Champs-Elysees without being able to receipt,
get
one clear idea
into his head.
He
tried to reason, to understand. His wife
could never have bought so valuable an object as
that.
Certainly not. But then,
must have been a present! ... A present from whom? What for? He stopped and stood stock-still in the middle of the avenue. She? But then all tho.se A horrible suspicion swept across his mind. Then it seemed to him other pieces of jewelr)' must have been presents also! it
.
.
.
.
.
that the falling
ers
.
.
.
his feet; that a tree, right in front of
toward him; he thrust out his arms instincti\cly, and
fell
him, was
senseless.
rcco\cred his consciousness again in a drug-store to which some bystandhad carried him. He had them lead him home, and he locked himself into
He
45
ground was heaving under
.
The Jewelry t 15 Until nightfall he cried without stopping, biting his handkerchief to keep
himself from screaming out. Then, completely worn out with grief and fatigue,
he went
A
to bed,
and
leaden sleep.
slept a
awakened him, and he rose and dressed himself slowly to go to the office. It was hard to have to work after such a shock. Then he reflected that he might be able to excuse himself to the superintendent, and he wrote to him. Then he remembered he would have to go back to the jeweler's; and ray of sunshine
shame made
He remained
his face purple.
thinking a long time.
he could
Still
not leave the necklace there; he put on his coat and went out. It
make
was it
a fine day; the sky
smile. Strollers
extended
all
blue over the
city,
were walking aimlessly about, with
and seemed to hands in their
their
pockets.
"How
Lantin thought as he watched them passing:
have fortunes! With
money
man
a
lucky the
men
are
who
can even shake off grief— you can go where
you please — travel — amuse yourself! Oh! if I were only rich!" He suddenly discovered he was hungr}'— not having eaten anything since the
50
evening before. But his pockets were empty; and he remembered the necklace.
Eighteen thousand francs! Eighteen thousand francs!
— that
was
a
sum — that
was!
He made
his
way
to the
Rue de
la
Paix and began to walk backward and
forward on the sidewalk in front of the store. Eighteen thousand francs! Twenty times he started to go Still
in;
brusque resolve, and crossed the have time
street
to think over the matter;
As soon
as
almost
jeweler said: "Sir,
ready to pay you
and he rushed
Even
down
made
I
the price
the clerks
I
inquiries;
He made one
not to
let
himself
into the jeweler's.
came forward lips.
and
if
who
signed a
you are
still
so disposed,
am
I
certainly."
jeweler took from a drawer eighteen big to Lantin,
a
to stare at Lantin,
offered you."
"Why, yes— sir,
clerk stammered:
them out
a cent.
at a run, so as
with gaiety in their eyes and smiles about their
The The
back.
he saw him, the merchant hurried forward, and offered him
chair with smiling politeness.
The
him
but shame always kept
he was hungry— very hungry— and had not
little
receipt,
55
bills, ^
and
counted them, and held
thrust the
money
feverishly
into his pocket.
Then,
as
he was on the point of leaving, he turned
chant, and said, lowering his eyes:
which came
to
me
in the
"I
have some
—
I
to the ever-smiling
mer-
have some other jewelry,
same — from the same inheritance. Would you pur-
chase them also from me?"
The merchant bowed, and answered: "Why,
One as
sir— certainly.
." .
.
hard as he could. Lantin, impassive, flushed and serious, said:
And he
When 3.
certainly,
of the clerks rushed out to laugh at his ease; another kept blowing his nose
"I will
bring
them
to you."
hired a cab to get the jewelry.
he returned
French paper money
to the store,
an hour
60 later,
he had not yet breakfasted.
varies in size; the larger the bill, the larger the
denomination.
16 T Guy de Maupassant the jewelry— piece by piece — putting a value on each. XearK had been purchased from that very house. Lantin, now, disputed estimates made, got angry, insisted on seeing the
They examined all
books, and talked louder and louder the higher the estimates grew.
The
diamond
big
earrings were worth 20,000 francs; the bracelets, 35,000;
the brooches, rings and medallions, 16,000; a set of emeralds and sapphires, 14,000; solitaire,
suspended
to a gold
neckchain, 40,000; the
total
value being
estimated at 196,000 francs.
65
The merchant observed with mischievous good nature: "The person who owned these must have put all her savings into jewelr\'." Lantin answered with gravity: "Perhaps that is as good a way of sa\'ing mone\' as any other." And he went off, after having agreed with the merchant that an expert should make a counter-estimate for him the next day.
When
he found himself
dome'^ with the desire
to
to play leapfrog over the
He
in the street again,
climb
it,
as if
were
it
a
he looked
May
— up there
Emperor's head
at the
He
pole.
blue
in the
Column Ven-
felt jolly
enough
sky.
breakfasted at Voisin's' restaurant, and ordered wine at 20 francs a bottle.
Then he
hired a cab and drove out to the
Bois.*^
He
looked
at the carriages
passing with a sort of contempt, and a wild desire to yell out to the passers-by:
am
rich, too
The
—
I
am!
I
recollection of the office suddenly
came back
to
walked right into the superintendent's private room, and give you
my
resignation.
sand francs."
them
all
"I
have 200,000 francs!"
I
have
just
come
him.
He
drove there,
said: "Sir,
into a fortune of three
I
come
to
himdred thou-
Then he shook hands all round with his fellow-clerks; and told for a new career. Then he went to dinner at the Cafe
about his plans
Anglais.
Finding himself seated
70
at the
same
table with a
man who seemed
quite genteel, he could not resist the itching desire to air
tell
him, with
to
him
a certain
of coquetry, that he had just inherited a fortune of four hundred thousand
francs.
For the
first
time in his
life
he went
to the theater
without feeling bored by
the performance; and he passed the night in revelry and debauch. Six
months
after
he married again. His second wife was the most upright of
spouses, but had a terrible temper.
She made
Stories are not always written. Ballads still
ing,
are
and even epics were sung, plays are
acted out on the stage, and most cultures have or had oral storytellers. Writ-
however, makes a difference. Oral or dramatic "readings" or performances
communal,
the responses tend to be uniform (though there's always the
person in the audience
who
laughs at the wrong time), and their purpose
Famous column with a statue of Napoleon at known and high-priced restaurant. 6. Large 4.
his life very miserable.
the top. Parisian park
5.
is
Like the Cafe Anglais below, a well-
where the
rich took their outings.
Questions and Writing Suggestions t 17
more
overtly to
move
They have
or persuade the group or communit)'.
a closer
relation to classical rhetoric, political speeches, or concerts than written narrative does.
We
read, usually, alone,
most of the time
silently,
and
if
there are
—
and there usually are — emotions, they are deeply personal, not shared. There is
and
a tendency, then, in literary criticism,
in reading for
and discussing
liter-
ature in class, to stress interpretation, the "ideas" in literary texts, or the formal structures,
and
to slight
somewhat the emotional
essentially solitar)' literary experience.
or affective aspect of our
But though
it
may be
difficult to
the vocabulary needed to talk about literature— we have to get it"
and
it"— we must never forget the deeply
"I didn't like
literature
engenders and the differences
beyond
stirring
develop "I liked
response that
and depths of response that
in kinds
different works stimulate.
QUESTIONS 1.
What
elry" alert
specific
you
words or phrases
in the first
to the possibility that all
may
two paragraphs of "The Jew-
not be as
it
seems?
How
What new
expectations or fears allayed in the next few paragraphs?
are these
fears or
expectations are aroused very soon thereafter? 2.
in
Since the story
such convenient
How
is
called
titles,
"The Jewelry" and
you may come
does your attitude toward
life
does not
come wrapped M.
to suspect the truth before
Lantin.
him change?
WRITING SUGGESTIONS 1.
Copy "The Zebra
Storyteller."
Exchange papers with
Can you
proofread each other's papers.
fully
a classmate. Care-
believe you could have
made
errors in simple copying? 2.
Stop "The Zebra Storyteller"
in five to ten paragraphs, write 3.
and
paragraph
5
(".
.
.
fit
to
be tied") and,
ending. it
the
same
another recent song.
Write a two- or three-page scene of Jack (from "No One's a Mystery")
his wife at 5.
own
Write a parody or imitation of "No One's a Mystery" giving
title as
4.
after
your
home.
Write an "off-stage" scene that shows
more pieces
of the jewelry.
how
Lantin's
first
wife got one or
^ ^ ^
Understanding the Text PLOT
1
"The Zebra
In
stor\
Story'teller"
you can see the skeleton of the
plot or plot structure. Plot simplv
means
topical short
the arrangement of the
action, an imagined event or a series of such events.
Action usuall) invoKes conflict, a struggle between opposing forces, and often
falls
into
something
like the
same
fi\e parts that
ue
The
tion, rising action, turning point (or climax), falling action, conclusion.
conflict in this
the zebra
little tale is
stor)'teller.
The
between the Siamese cat and the zebras, especially
first
part of the action, called the exposition, intro-
duces the characters, situation, and, usually, time and place. here
is
achieved in three sentences: the time
Africa, the characters a
zebra,
and the
Siamese cat
who
situation their meeting.
plot, the rising action: events that
is
"once upon
is
We
new
ones.
The
first
who
over in a hurry— the zebra
and the zebras' growing
fears
cat's
event here
storyteller: until
change. stor\'
From
is
and consequent
the third part of the
now the
this
are untangled
cat has
had
it
all
stor\',
his
cat.
is "fit
That to
18
for
the meet-
be tied"
con-
is
tied
superstitious belief that
The turning point
or
the appearance of the zebra
wa\ but his luck ,
point on the complications that grew in the
— the zebra stor)teller,
is
initial
continuing success in killing
the ghost of a lion haunts the region preving on zebras.
climax of the action
place
then enter the second part of the
up and eaten. Complications build with the zebras,
exposition
speaks Zebraic and an innocent
ing between an innocent zebra and the Zebraic-speaking
of zebra and cat
The
a," the
complicate the situation and intensif} or
complicate the conflict or introduce
flict
it
find in a play: exposi-
example,
is
is
about
first
to
part of the
not surprised
when
19
Plot
he meets a Siamese cat speaking Zebraic, "because he'd been thinking about that very thing"; this falling action.
which the
The
the fourth part of the
is
ends
story
situation that
was destablized
the Zebraic-speaking cat appeared)
movement
or
conclusion: the point at
beginning of the story (when
at the
becomes
the reverse
stor)',
at the fifth part, the
once more: Africa
stable
once
is
again free of cats speaking the language of zebras.
This typical arrangement of the action of
composing
a story
a narrative or for critical analysis;
on your responses
lectual effect
diately begin building
it
The
as reader.
hme and
images of the
is
not
also has
just a
its
formula
for
emotional and
intel-
imme-
exposition invites you to
place of the action, the people,
the situation, and the issues involved, and even to identify with or root for one or
more of the
participants.
You choose
Siamese cat (though your choice
is
to
be on the side of the zebras or the
guided by the language and
story: the cat speaks "inappropriate" Zebraic, the zebra
cent").
As the situation becomes more complicated during the
you are led
to
guys," are going to get out of the increasingly
more and more (as in
how
be increasingly concerned with
zebras), or,
if
bad situation (the cat eating
rative,
M. Lantin
you become more and more concerned about what
to turn things
around
even
(for
if
sciously
to
cations will unravel,
how
stories grant this sequential
events chronologically.
it
affects
unfolding of
same
has been changed.
When
historical order
historical events,
The
to last).
events but is
one
its
the compli-
the order in
which
many do
crihc's
"The queen died
Most
not describe is
created.
example,
after the
is
not a
king died"
but the order in which they are reported
reader of the
first
sentence focuses on the king
said, the difference in focus
meaning
While
first;
essentially the
and emphasis changes the
as well.
structured into plot.
has
is
disturbed, a plot
died," to use
effect and, in the broadest sense, the
The
how
out.
the reader of the second sentence focuses on the queen.
same thing has been
in nar-
in real life— knock
Consciously or uncon-
you the reader
life's
has not been "tampered with."
includes the
"The Jew-
actions occur one after the other, sequentially.
"The king died and then the queen plot, for
come
everything will
life,
in
going to happen
in the story, trying to anticipate
Another aspect of structure that the events are told. In
and even
in stories
be true or too good
you become involved
is
you do not know about turning points
you know that sometimes things
on wood — seem too good
rising action,
"your" zebras, the "good
the complications of the rising action are positive
the marriage and prosperity and happiness of
elry"),
details of the
introduced as "inno-
is
The
history has
been m-i
ordering of events, then, provides stories with structure and plot, and
consequences
in effect
and meaning. The
first
opportunity' for structur-
20
Plot
ing a story
is
at the
beginning, and beginnings are consequently particularly
Why does
and important.
sensitive
least since the
Big Bang)
a stor}' begin
where
a true beginning; your
is
it
own
you were born and even before you were conceived. So author has to make a selection, the beginning
is
to indicate that for the
a given point rather than
wife.
That
in love as in a net."
and "innocent" way
natural
to
But why not begin with
modified paragraph
a slightly
faults:
her love of the theater, and her passion for
."?
After
father, her
move
happy with
perfectly
all, this last
that gives the story
5:
"M. Lantin was
and smiled
his wife
at
He
false jewelry.
Or
if
how
ing, responding,
the story.
and
It
is
his
emphasized
in the
income; the
girl's
for a
might be useful
the details in these
first
to explain
in this chapter, begins,
from Minneapolis
in
seems
"To begin
point at which a
structure.
ing cat)
A typical
— destabilizes
of one or
typical
when
time, for
as
it
now
for her; Lantin's falling
on your own or
events,
in
an
and "meaning" of
at the
11,
it is
beginning, the airplane
traveling East ran into heavy
when
the
Weeds
are preparing to
baby-sitter; or even, with a
the baby-sitter opens the door and
with their encounter that the story
stor)'
more
ends
is
also a sensitive
and meaningful aspect of
beginning— first sentence (Lantin meets the
discriminated occasion (the
life
15,
would
we might
truly to begin.
The its
girl's
never
eight paragraphs affect your read-
go out on the evening on which Francis meets the
first
beginning
husband
which Francis Weed was
few adjustments, with paragraph
is
why John Cheever's "The Country
weather," rather than with, say, paragraph
Francis sees her for the
shocked
beauty, modest)', respect-
to consider
and understanding of the people,
Or you might want
Husband,"
little
felt
in the unstructured history they
and her mother's search
into a "net."
assigned essay
and so
and what
learn
stands: the class of Lantin
in love as
her two
then "his wife.") These are the earliest events
girl" first,
In searching for a reason for Maupassant's beginning,
ability, poverty,
sen-
the story could begin with the death of the
come
we
first
with her mother to Paris, and so on. (Note that she
in the exposition,
look at what
new
9, inserting a
mentioned first.
envel-
sentence would immediately introduce the jewelry
its title.
given a name, just "the
one
girl
sentence of "The ]ewelr\'" seems a perfectly
first
"M. Lantin was
.
this story
begin a story that will involve Lantin and his
tence:
.
(at
begin a story the
to
purposes of
M. Lantin became
perfecdy happy in his marriage"? or with paragraph
by
event
story begins before
any other. "Having met the
evening, at the house of the office-superintendent,
oped
No
does?
life
first
girl)
or
first
encounter of a zebra with the Zebraic-speak-
the history; something happens that changes the ordinary
characters
and
sets off a
new
course of events, the
ending either reestablishes the old order (no more
story.
A
cats eating zebras.
Plot T 21
no more romantic escapades
for Francis
Weed)
or establishes a
new one
(Lan-
tin remarried). Endings, like beginnings, affect the reader and suggest mean-
ing.
And
like beginnings,
all stories
more
(or
they are arbitrary structures that interrupt history, for
precisely, histories)
about individuals end the same way,
Margaret Atwood somewhat cynically suggests
Mary if
die.
John and Mary
you equate the
ward
as far as
Not
John and Mary die." That
die.
all stories
as
"Happy Endings": "John and is
only true, of course,
story with the history, for the history not only extends back-
you can see but
why
the story. (And
in
not the
also forward to the
lives
end of the
lives
of those in
of their children, grandchildren, and so on?)
end with the deaths of the characters who
interest us; in fact, of
the stories in this and the introductory chapters only Atwood's ends with the
deaths of both
major characters, while "The Zebra Storyteller" ends with
its
Where
the death of the Zebraic-speaking cat.
determining
how
it
a story
and what we make of
affects us
ends goes a long way to
it.
ends with the triumph of the zebra over the Siamese feeling that
good guys win, and with
meaning of the
"No One's
story.
pushes us back into our
who
is
own
about the
moral that leads us
a
Storyteller"
with the
to the "point" or
a Mystery" leaves us without an answer
experiences and beliefs to judge
wrong about the couple's
All questions
"The Zebra
cat, leaving us
who
is
and
right
effect or
from an assumption that we must
meaning of beginnings and endings follow
now
recognize: that there are reasons for the
structures of the narrative, indeed, that in a short story, in part because of brevity, everything
must "count." One
the wall at the beginning of a story,
of events or details the plot, for most
is
and
future.
it
writer has said that
must be
fired
if
there
is
The
by the end.
a
its
gun on
relevance
not limited, however, merely to future action, events in
seem
to
"The Country Husband,"
have relevance in other ways. In paragraph 9 of for
example, Francis
Weed
listens to "the
evening
sounds of Shady Hill." These include a door slamming, the sound of someone cutting grass— which do not lead to events but
may
establish the nature of the
suburban setting— and the sound of someone playing (badly) Beethoven's
"Moonlight Sonata," which may on the one hand, because of the nature of the piece, reinforce into the story,
Weed's thoughtful or dreamy mood or introduce "romance"
and on the other hand, because of the petulant and
performance, show
why Weed
is
dissatisfied with the
ban neighbors, and perhaps suburban in the previous sentence.
The
life.
Notice the "may" and the "perhaps"
relevancy of a detail to a story
is
not always as
simple and incontrovertible as the inevitable shooting of the gun.
ought to
to
be
alert as to
how
self-pitying
shallowness of his subur-
Though you
the details function in affecting you or contributing
your visualization or understanding of the people, incidents, and issues of
22 T Plot the story, there
is
not necessarily a precise answer to the question of how a
Cheever's
detail functions. In cals!
.
.
.
my
Avaunt and quit
would be
lost
without
You may
it?
why does Mr. Nixon shout
stor\,
see the effects
from your classmates; indeed you may not gate at
why
readers respond
or of choosing all
is
and meaningful
or inventing affective
Atwood
details,
"who done
says, the plot
ilar stories,
happened
there
is
"A Rose
earlier; in
an ending that forces us
ending
necessar)', so the
in the fact that
we
of earlier events,
it
know
did not
Sometimes, howe\er, the
tory,
is
its
own
a scene that
"Sonnv's Blues," for example, there
by the word "safe"
There
is
mother. This
is,
many
that
is
—
what
it
tells
us but
instead of
told.
making you think
order, reaches back into the hisfictional pres-
such a replay or flashback
the
followed by another scene
the end-
we had not been
last
—
lor
scene from the past triggered
(par. 79), the narrator recalling his father's
is
storv
of the details
happened before the
a ver\ brief
then leads to a specific dramatized scene his
the
realize reinterpretation
anUhing that
we expect
stor)'
a surprise not only in
there was
actually breaks into
rather a series of flashbacks).
one
"just is
to the crime, but to all
to reinterpret
mo\es back;
stor\
and presents or dramatizes
ent. In
is
that
Emily," however, and sim-
for
went before, though while reading we did not
would be
when
At the end, when the detective
in the plot.
you must think back not only
the hints or clues that you have been given. In such a ing to explain what
it,
forced to think back to prior events. In a detec-
is
and not
it,"
on
but also of order-
example, the crime has usually been committed before the
begins, in the history-
that
light
not just a matter of choosing where to begin or end
sometimes the reader
tive story, for
What
differently
understand, and judge stories differently.
to,
the events in between. Sometimes, as
explains
add?
this detail to interro-
thing after another, a what and a what and a what." Even case,
it
and implications
chosen
ha\'e
"Varmints! Ras-
does
These differences of selection and explanation may shed
all.
Structuring a story
ing
What
sight!" at the squirrels?
words, which
time the narrator talked
to
the narrator's conversation
with Sonnv after their mother's funeral. This scene of course follows the previ-
ous one but past,
in
terms of where the
and therefore
tional present for tle
Grace died
is
some time — "I
in the fall
narrator for t\vo weeks,
One
.
.
and
."
it
make
power of curiosit)',
— when
know what
for
stor\-
it is
return to the
Sonny has been
histon,' into plot
the reader read on. This can be
to
fictional present)
the
in the fic-
living with the
proceeds from that point to the end.
the reader's expectations of what will
osity—the desire
Nor does
read about Sonny's trouble in the spring. Lit-
(par. 177)
reason for structuring the
attention, to
began (the
stor\'
in fact a flashback.
is
is
to
engage the reader's
done not only by arousing
happen next but
also by generating curi-
happening or has happened.
example, that keeps us reading intensely
It is
the sheer
when we know
Plot T
Watson or Sherlock Holmes himself at
as little as
But
"case."
not only the detective
it is
m's Blues" begins, antecedent
read about
"I
repeated seven times in the
is
vou
at this point to
w
more than
ill
first
examine what
is
likelv
have framed
.
"it"
it's
up
to the ston' to
make
Perhaps stronger than
is
or
how
Zebra
it
Zebraic
is
with
us curious
curiosit)'
and
will develop,
Even
enough
up
or
which
make 'em
is
suspense— that
and doubt about what
so on).
Even
"The
as
"The Rock-
particular kind of expecta-
is
going to happen next like,
is
be— at
laugh!" he
tells
himself.
possibilities did
(as
what the theme
in reading a little fable like
a cat speaking Zebraic
How many
happen next?
may
a story; after that,
"The
work: a cat speaking
comes up with
killing zebras; the zebra storyteller thinking of plots
idea! That'll
such
a title,
to pick
It
he does, getting
Enormous Wings,"
our minds are— or should
the idea of a story in
will
Man
from expectations about what a character
Stor}'teller"
and you
refer to,
keep us engaged.
tion involving anticipation of
differentiated
might
how and where
reason that Baldw in begins
this
ing-Horse Winner," can
stop. If
for yourself sexeral possible answers.
in the ston', so that \'ou will read on.
"A Very Old
iwo sen-
first
going on in your mind, you more than
be in part for
Stor)'teller,"
"Son-
curiosit)'.
that "it" without
and
two paragraphs and
\ou engaged Zebra
upon our
,"
.
.
paragraph and
first
vou are asking yourself what
find that
likel)- will
paper
Read those
tences of the second paragraph. tr\-
in the
it
the beginning of a stor\ or
that plays
stor\'
23
is
"What an
killing zebras:
Then he meets
cat— what
the
you or can you anticipate? Even
though you now know the ending, vou could go back
to this point in the stor\-
and, recalling vour expectations, reconstruct or reinvent the rest of the story.
Sometimes the suspense happens within the
storv as
when
example,
elry," for
not the end; something eral
pages
and
left
is
generated and defined not so
by what we expect from
it is
going
stories
happen
to
he goes
He
to sell a
is
stor\',
do not go on unless something
is
in her
going bankrupt, he looks over his wife's
piece he finds
it is
"The Jew-
we know
this
going
room
.
.
jewelr\',
not mere costume jewelr\
,
happen.
to .
but
will
her
and when
real.
How
much
sooner than Lantin himself do vou realize the source of the jewelr\?
There
is
a certain satisfaction in seeing the truth before
do vou expect
you expect the If
you were
to
happen next?
story to to
Do
vou anticipate
his
he does. But then what
debauching?
How
did
end?
pause
just before
sant story
and consciously explore
are based
on both
fictional
probablv assume the
is
or be revealed because there are sev-
But what? Lantin grieves so intensely, locks himself ghost return?
by what
stories. In
Lantin's wife dies so early in the
is
much
stor\'
reading the final paragraph of the Maupas-
\'Our expectations,
you would see that these
and actual conventions — indeed, most of us would
could have ended with the word "debauch," without
24
Plot
the final brief paragraph, and that the
within our conventional moral terms
but he will soon
The
can accept
this
even
— he may get bitter pleasures for a time, undone by them.
does not contradict, deepens the irony:
if it
has a truly "upright" wife— and he
now he
We
been betrayed.
of such pleasures or be
tire
paragraph, however,
final
would end with the irony of Lan-
stor\'
tin's getting pleasure out of his having
is
miserable.
Our
conventional
expectations that morality brings happiness, that infidelity and debaucher\ lead
wrenched
to various kinds of ruin, are
but
ery,
immoral? the ston'
into question.
he
better off leading a moral life?
Do
good guys
is
we need
fiilK
We
finish last?
to call
Is
He
has tired of debauch-
the world amoral
do not have
— or even
to believe this,
but to read
our perhaps more optimistic and conventional
views into question. In order to
keep you engaged and
what
tions about
vou must be
a stor\
happen
will
what
or
alert, a stor)
will
at crucial points in the stor\-
is
engaged
your reading
in
for
One
is
to is
you — it gives two versions of what
ends, without resolution.
stor)
fully to
does the pausing and the conscious
stop*-
what might happen next
might happen and then the
respond
and consciously explore what you think
coming. In "No One's a Mystery" the specification of
To
and guess along with the author.
alert to the signals
way of seeing whether and how \our mind pause
must make you ask ques-
be re\ealed next.
(Though not with-
out point; for to suggest that both naivete and cynicism are merely attitudes,
and
that neither
lenge, even fiction
is
Like
is
if it is
an
is
an insight and
not, strictly speaking, a resolution.)
a guessing all
infallible clue to the future,
At
least in
a chal-
one
aspect,
game.
guessing games, from quiz shows to philosophy, the plot
fiction has certain guidelines.
A
game
offering at appropriate points all the necessar}' indications or clues to
happen last
next, not just springing
new and
minute ("Meanwhile, unknown
other side of the well-structured
hill
.
.
."). It is
this
stor}- satisfying or,
stories also offer a
number
to
essential information
playing
when you
fair that
it,
inevitable.
is
to end, in
And though
keeping you
in
many
there
is
though
ine\ita-
usually an overarching action from
is
answered another comes forth
as to the final
— anticipating the outcome
to replace
it,
outcome.
Unlike most guessing games, however, the reward guess
Most
stories there are layers of expectation or suspense,
one question
doubt
the
on the
of reasonable but false signals (red herrings) to get
off the scent, so that in a well-structured stor\' the ending,
so that as soon as
at
just
makes the ending of a
look back on
ble,
beginning
what w ill
on you
our hero, the Marines were
you
also surprising.
in
well-structured plot will play fair with you.
is
not for the right
before the final paragraph
— but for the
num-
25
Plot T
number
ber of guesses, right and wrong, that you make, the
respond
to. If
you are misled by none of the
story— by Sonny's friend saying,
" 'Listen.
" (par. 36), for
start all
over again'
"right,"
but you have missed
pages of a
him out and then
They'll let
example— you may be
many
of signals you
false signals in the early
it'll
just
closer to being
of the implications of the
story. But,
more
important, you have missed the pleasure of learning the "truth" a story has to offer,
and you know how
to learn for yourself,
much
less
through your
meaningful
own
be told something than
to
it is
experience. Fiction
is
way of transmit-
a
ting not just perception but experience.
Though
plot
consequence
is
sant's
in the
can involve meaning
The ending
of
storytelling.
matic change, some revelation. Here
dents tify
ries
human conduct and
We
some kind
usually expect
we may expect
of dra-
Francis to run off with the
and have a violent confrontation with Clayton Thomas. (Many
seem
to
be on the side of Francis and
Anne— until
Cheever
says, in effect,
should not be
like that.
not only that
Though
life is
not like
expectations based
stu-
they are asked to iden-
Francis not with themselves or with story heroes but, say, with their
fathers!)
we
"The Country Husband" may upset your expectations
based on the conventions of
baby-sitter
as well as action, as
worldview suggested by the ending of "The Jewelry." Maupas-
ending upsets our conventional thinking about
morality.
or
happening, and the expectation, surprise, and percep-
tion surrounding plot structure
have seen
outcome
the structuring of events, an event can be an
as well as a
on
that,
own
but that
sto-
social, moral, or
lit-
erary conventions that support the ordinary are not so consciously aroused as
by action and adventure— the kind of expectation described
are those aroused
by the term suspense— their fulfillment, modification, or contradiction nificant it is
aim and
effect of
not merely a game.
many
Many
stories.
Fiction
is
stories seek to give
in part a guessing
new
insights into
ception, experience, meaning, or at least to challenge our sciously held beliefs.
They
truths— even though they resented. But
first
strive to tell truths
"lie"
more
is
a sig-
game, but
human
or less
per-
uncon-
— new, subjective truths, but
about the actuality of the people and events rep-
they have to get your attention, and one way
is
by arousing
your curiosity and exciting your anticipation. That
is
one of the primary func-
what
is
to
tions of plot. Alertness to signals, anticipating
come
next,
and remem-
bering what has been said and signaled earlier are essential to fully appreciating and understanding stories and their structures. That
should function
as a reader
of plot.
is
how you
26
Margaret Atwood
MARGARET ATWOOD Happy Endings John and Mary meet. Wliat happens next? If
A.
you want
a
happy ending,
try A.
John and Man,' fall in love and get married. They both have worthwhile and remunerative jobs which they find stimulating and challenging. They buy a charming house. Real estate values go up. Eventually, when they can afford
The
have two children,
live-in help, they
lenging sex
They
retire.
whom
they are devoted.
and worthwhile friends. They go on fun vacations together. They both have hobbies which they find stimulating and chal-
life
lenging. Eventually they die. This
B.
to
children turn out well. John and Mar)' have a stimulating and chal-
Mar)'
falls in
the
is
end of the
love with John but John doesn't
story.
fall in
love with Mary.
He
and ego gratification of a tepid kind. He comes to her apartment twice a week and she cooks him dinner, you'll notice that he doesn't even consider her worth the price of a dinner out, and after he's eaten the dinner he fucks her and after that he falls merely uses her body
for selfish pleasure
asleep, while she does the dishes so
he won't think
she's untidy,
having
all
those dirty dishes lying around, and puts on fresh lipstick so she'll look
good when he wakes up, but when he wakes up he doesn't even notice, he puts on his socks and his shorts and his pants and his shirt and his tie and his shoes, the reverse order from the one in which he took them off. He
them
doesn't take off Mary's clothes, she takes she's
dving
for
it
off herself, she acts as
but she wants John
to think
she does because
come
surely he'll get used to her, he'll
to
if
they do
later
he turns up
it
enough
often
depend on her and they
married, but John goes out the door with hardly so
and three days
if
every time, not because she likes sex exactly, she doesn't,
much
as a
will get
good-night
and they do the whole thing
at six o'clock
over again. Mar\' gets run-down. Crying and so does Mary but she can't tell
her John
can't believe nicer.
from
is it.
a box, a pit
for
will
emerge
from a prune,
if
your face, ever\one knows that at work notice. Her friends good enough for her, but she
People
he
isn't
Inside John, she thinks,
is
another John,
like a butterfly
the
first
John
is
evening John complains about the food.
about the food before. Mary
Her
bad
stop.
a rat, a pig, a dog,
This other John
One
is
friends
tell
is
is
a
who
is
much
cocoon, a Jack
only squeezed enough.
He
has never complained
hurt.
her they've seen
woman, whose name
from
Madge.
It's
him
in a restaurant with
not even
Madge
another
that finally gets to
Happy Endings Mary:
it's
Mary them and
the restaurant. John has never taken Mar}' to a restaurant.
collects all the sleeping pills a half a bottle of sherry. fact that
27
it's
and
can
aspirins she
You can
see
and
find,
what kind of a
takes
woman
she
by the
is
not even whiskey. She leaves a note for John. She hopes he'll
discover her and get her to the hospital in time and repent and then they
can get married, but
this fails to
happen and she
dies.
John marries Madge and everything continues C.
John,
who
is
an older man,
out.
She sleeps with him even though
him
at
work. She's in love with
he's worried
is
about his hair
who
called James,
only
falling
him. She met
she's not in love with
someone
who
Mary, and Mary,
in love with
falls
him because
twenty-two, feels sorry for
as in A.
twenty-two
is
and not yet ready to settle down. John on the contrary settled down long ago: this is what him. John has a steady, respectable job and is getting ahead also
but Mary
in his field,
who
impressed by him, she's impressed by James,
isn't
motorcycle and a fabulous record collection. But James his motorcycle,
being
free.
Freedom
isn't
the
same
is
bothering
is
has a
away on the mean-
often
for girls, so in
time Mary spends Thursday evenings with John. Thursdays are the only days John can get away.
John is married to a woman called Madge and they have two children, charming house which they bought just before the real estate values went up, and hobbies which they find stimulating and challenging, when they
a
have the time. John
tells
his wife
on about
more than
this
Mary how important she
because a commitment
he can't leave
is
necessary and
is
a
is
Mary
to
him, but of course
commitment. He goes
finds
it
boring, but older
men can keep it up longer so on the whole she has a fairly good time. One day James breezes in on his motorcycle with some top-grade Caliand James and Mary get higher than you'd believe possible and they climb into bed. Everything becomes very underwater, but along comes John, who has a key to Mary's apartment. He finds them stoned and entwined. He's hardly in any position to be jealous, considering Madge,
fornia hybrid
but nevertheless he's overcome with despair. Finally he's middle-aged, in he'll be bald as an egg and he can't stand handgun, saying he needs it for target practice — this
two years
the plot, but
it
can be dealt with
later
— and
it.
is
He
purchases a
the thin part of
shoots the two of
them and
himself.
Madge,
man
after a suitable
called Fred
period of mourning, marries an understanding
and everything continues
as in A,
but under different
names.
D.
Fred and
and
are
Madge have no
good
at
problems.
working out any
charming house
is
They
tidal
that
may
arise.
by the seashore and one day a giant
approaches. Real estate values go down.
caused the
get along exceptionally well
little difficulties
The
rest
wave and how they escape from
of the story it.
They
do,
is
But
their
wave about what tidal
though thou-
John Cheever
28
sands drown, but Fred and Madge are \irtuous and lucky. Finally on high ground they clasp each other, wet and dripping and grateful, and continue as in A.
Yes, but Fred has a bad heart.
E.
The
rest of the story
understanding they both are until Fred
dies.
work until the end of A. If you like, and confused," and "bird watching."
to charity "guilt)-
F.
If
you think
this
is all
it
and see how far end up with A, though
about
kind and
and Mary
a revolutionary
a counterespionage agent
that gets you.
Canada. You'll
in
still
how
devotes herself
can be "Madge," "cancer,"
make John
too bourgeois,
is
Then Madge
Remember,
between you may get a
brawling saga of passionate involvement, a chronicle of our times, You'll have to face
same however you
the endings are the
it,
deluded by any other endings, they're malicious intent to deceive, or
just
all
slice
this
is
lustful
sort
of
Don't be
it.
fake, either deliberately fake, with
motivated by excessive optimism
if
not by
downright sentimentality.
The
only authentic ending
John and Mary
die.
So much
for endings.
ever, are
known
is
the one provided here:
John and Mary
die.
John and Marj'
die.
Beginnings are always more fun. True connoisseurs, howbetween, since
to favor the stretch in
it's
the hardest to do
anything with. That's about after another, a
Now
tr\'
all
that
can be said
what and
How
a
for plots,
what and
which an\-way are
one thing
just
a what.
and Why. 1983
JOHN CHEEVER The Country Husband To begin at the beginning, Weed was traveling East ran witli the
the airplane from Minneapolis in which Francis into heavy weather.
The
sky
had been
a hazv' blue,
clouds below the plane lying so close together that nothing could be
seen of the earth.
The
into a white cloud of
mist began to form outside the windows, and they flew
such
densit)' that
it
reflected the exhaust
fires.
The
color
of the cloud darkened to gray, and the plane began to rock. Francis had been in
heavy weather before, but he had never been shaken up so much.
in the seat beside
smiled killer
at his
him pulled
neighbor, but the
with anyone.
crying.
The
a flask
air in
The man
out of his pocket and took a drink. Francis
man
The plane began
looked away; he wasn't sharing his pain to
drop and flounder wildly.
the cabin was overheated and stale, and Francis'
A
left
child was foot
went
The Country Husband
He
to sleep.
read a
book
a paper
from
little
that he
but the violence of the storm divided his attention.
The
exhaust
fires
had bought
at the airport,
was black outside the
ports.
blazed and shed sparks in the dark, and, inside, the shaded
window curtains gave the cabin an atmosphere of Then the light flickered and went out. "You
the stuffiness, and the
lights,
It
29
t
intense and misplaced domesticity.
know what
I've
man
always wanted to do?" the
beside Francis said suddenly.
New
Hampshire and raise beef cattle." The stewardess announced that they were going to make an emergency landing. All> but the children saw in their minds the spreading wings of the Angel of Death. "I've
always wanted to buy a farm in
The
pilot
could be heard singing
got sixpence to
I've
last
The loud groaning
me
faintly, "I've got sixpence, jolly, jolly sixpence.
my
all
there was a shrieking high in the
on
flat
forward howled,
."' .
There was no other sound.
.
air, like
pilot's
song,
at the back, letting in the
hit
man up
an old
so violently that
"Me kidneys! Me kidneys!" The stewardess flung open
and someone opened an emergency door
and
automobile brakes, and the plane
and shook them
belly in a cornfield
its
life
of the hydraulic valves swallowed up the
the door,
sweet noise
of their continuing mortality— the idle splash and smell of a heavy rain. Anxious for their lives, they filed
out of the doors and scattered over the cornfield in
all
Nothing happened. When it was clear that the plane would not burn or explode, the crew and the stewardess gathered the passengers together and led them to the shelter of a barn. They directions, praying that the thread
were not
far
into the city.
did.
It
little while a string of taxis took them someone said, but there was surprisingly suspiciousness with which many Americans regard their
from Philadelphia, and "It's just like
relaxation of that
little
would hold.
in a
the Marne,^"
fellow travelers. In Philadelphia,
Francis-Wesd got
New
a train to
journey, he crossed the city and caught just as
commuting
He
sat
train that
he took
five nights a
with Trace Bearden. "You know,
It
was a day
Trace listened
to pull out the
Shady
in
was in that plane that in a field
.
.
."
Hill.
just
crashed
He had
traveled
New York was sunny and shapely as an apple. but how could he get excited? Francis had no powers September,
in late
to the story,
as fragrant
him re-create a brush with death— particularly in the atmosphere commuting train, journeying through a sunny countryside where already,
would
of a
home
than the newspapers or the rain, and the weather in
and mild. that
I
to his
"We came down
outside Philadelphia," he said. faster
week
York. At the end of that
was about
it
let
slum gardens, there were
in the
and Francis was
left
signs of harvest.
the platform at Shady Hill and drove in his
Blenhollow neighborhood, where he
Trace picked up
He
his
newspaper,
good night to Trace on secondhand Volkswagen up to the
alone with his thoughts.
said
lived.
The Weeds' Dutch Colonial house was larger than it appeared to be from the driveway. The living room was spacious and divided like Gaul,^ into three parts.
1.
Around an
ell to
the
Song popular with Allied troops
taxicabs
mans.
were requisitioned 3.
to
left as
in
World War
move
Ancient France (Gaul)
one entered from the vestibule was the long
is
II.
troops to the
2.
On
Marne
so described by Julius
September
8, 1914,
over 1,000 Paris
River to halt the encircling Ger-
Caesar
in
The Gallic War.
30 T John Cheever and a bov\l of fruit in the center. The sounds and came from the open kitchen door were appetizing, for Julia Weed was a good cook. The largest part of the living room centered on a fireplace. On the right were some bookshelves and a piano. The room was polished and tranquil, and from the windows that opened to the uest there was some late-summer table, laid for six, with candles
smells that
and as clear as water. Nothing here was neglected; nothing had not been burnished. It was not the kind of household where, after prying open a stuck cigarette box, \'ou would find an old shirt button and a tarnished
sunlight, brilliant
nickel.
The
hearth was swept, the roses on the piano were reflected in the polish
of the broad top, and there was an
Weed,
a pretty girl of nine,
album of Schubert waltzes on
the rack. Louisa
was looking out the western windows. Her young
brother Henry was standing beside her. Her
still
younger brother, Toby, was
studying the figures of some tonsured
of the woodbox. Francis, taking
monks drinking beer on the polished brass off his hat and putting down his paper, was not
consciously pleased with the scene; he was not that reflective. his creation,
and he returned
to
it
It
was
his
element,
with that sense of lightness and strength with
which any creature returns to his home. "Hi, ever\'body," he said. "The plane ." from Minneapolis Nine times out of ten, Francis would be greeted with affection, but tonight the children are absorbed in their own antagonisms. Francis had not finished his sentence about the plane crash before Henry plants a kick in Louisa's behind. Louisa swings around, saying, "Damn youl" Francis makes the mistake of scolding Loui.sa for bad language before he punishes Henrv. Now Louisa turns on her father and accuses him of favoritism. Henrys is always right; she is persecuted and lonely; her lot is hopeless. Francis turns to his son, but the son .
.
him on the ear, which is She hit him on the ear, and she meant to hit him on the ear, because he messed up her china collection. Henry says that this is a lie. Little Toby turns away from the woodbox to throw in some evidence for Louisa. Henr)- claps his hand o\'er little Toby's mouth. Francis separates the two boys but accidentally pushes Toby into the woodbox. Toby begins to cry. Louisa is already crying. Just then, Julia Weed comes into that part of the room where the table is laid. She is a prett\', intelligent woman, and the white in her hair is premature. She does not seem to notice the fracas. "Hello, darling," she savs serenelv to Francis. "Wash your hands, ever\one. Dinner is ready." She strikes a match and lights the six candles in this \ale of tears."* This simple announcement, like the war cries of the Scottish chieftains, only refreshes the ferocity of the combatants. Louisa gives Henr)- a blow on the shoulder. Henr)', although he seldom cries, has pitched nine innings and is tired. He bursts into tears. Little Tob\' discovers a splinter in his hand and begins to howl. Francis says loudly that he has been in a plane crash and that he is Hred. Julia has justification for the kick— she hit
dangerous. Louisa agrees with
appears again from the kitchen and, upstairs
4.
and
Common
tell
Helen
him
first;
she hit
this passionately.
still
that c\er\ thing
is
figurative reference to earthly life (\ale
ignoring the chaos, asks Francis to go ready. Francis
is
valley),
though
is
happy
to go;
it is
liere the tears are literal
like
The Country Husband t
He
31
tell his oldest daughon her bed reading a True Romance magazine, and the first thing Francis does is to take the magazine from her hand and remind Helen that he has forbidden her to buy it. She did not buy it, Helen replies. It was given to her by her best friend, Bessie Black. Everybody reads True Romance. Bessie Black's father reads True Romance. There isn't a girl in Helen's class who doesn't read True Romance. Francis expresses his
getting back to headquarters
company.^
about the airplane crash, but Helen
ter
detestahon of the magazine and then
from the sounds downstairs
Neither Louisa nor Henry has
down on
lying face
plane crash
on
seem
come
and
up the
that
Toby
is
starts to
to the table
is
stairs to his
go
after
Toby is still howling, "Daddy was in a hear about it?" Toby goes
him
Toby. Don't you want
you don't come
to
gently:
now, Toby," Francis
The
send you to bed without any supper."
says,
is ready— although Helen follows him down the
to the table. Little
the floor. Francis speaks to
this afternoon,
crying. "If
look, flies
so.
has seated herself in the candlelight and spread a napkin over her
stairs. Julia
lap.
lying
her that dinner
tells
doesn't
it
planning to
is
is
little
boy
says, "I'll
rises, gives
him
have
to
a cutting
bedroom, and slams the door. "Oh, dear,"
Julia
him. Francis says that she will spoil him. Julia says
ten pounds underweight and has to be encouraged to eat. Winter
coming, and he
will
spend the cold months
Julia goes upstairs. Francis
sits
down
at
in
bed unless he has
the table with Helen. Helen
from the dismal feeling of having read too intently on
room
a fine day,
his dinner. is
suffering
and she gives
She doesn't understand about the plane Shady Hill. Julia returns with Toby, and they all sit down and are served. "Do I have to look at that big, fat slob?" Henr)' says, of Louisa. Everybody but Toby enters into this skirmish, and it rages up and down the table for five minutes. Toward the end, Henry puts his napkin over his head and, tr)'ing to eat that way, spills
her father and the
a jaded look.
crash, because there wasn't a drop of rain in
spinach
dinner lay
over his
all
shirt.
earlier. Julia's
two
tables.
She
Francis asks Julia
guns are loaded
if
for this.
the children couldn't have their
She
cook two dinners and panorama of drudgery in
can't
paints with lightning strokes that
which her youth, her beauty, and her wit have been lost. Francis says that he must be understood; he was nearly killed in an airplane crash, and he doesn't like to
come home
every night to a battlefield.
Now
Julia
is
deeply concerned.
Her voice trembles. He doesn't come home every night to a battlefield. The accusation is stupid and mean. Everything was tranquil until he arrived. She stops speaking, puts down her knife and fork, and looks into her plate as if it is a gulf. She begins to cry. "Poor Mummy!" Toby says, and when Julia gets up from the
table, drying
Mummy,"
he
says.
her tears with a napkin,
"Poor
Mummy!" And
Toby goes
they climb the
to her side.
"Poor
stairs together.
The
other children drift away from the battlefield, and Francis goes into the back
garden for a cigarette and some
It
air.
was a pleasant garden, with walks and flower beds and places
sunset had nearly burned out, but there was
5.
That
is,
like
escaping from combat to relative
safetv'
still
behind the
plenty of
lines.
light.
to
sit.
The
Put into a
32 T John Cheever thoughtful
mood
by the crash and the
sounds of Shady rels in his
bird-feeding station. "Avaunt and quit
Someone was to play the
battle, Francis listened to the
"Moonlight
He
Sonata."''
tempo out the window and played
beneath the
trees like
housemaid— some
to
an appeal
fresh-faced,
it
sight!"
A
door slammed.
lived at the corner,
He
did this nearly every night.
began
threw the
nibato' from beginning to end, like an
lonesomeness, and self-pit\— of ever\'thing
tearful petulance,
was Beethoven's greatness not
my
Donald Goslin, who
cutting grass. I'hen
outpouring of
evening
"Varmints! Rascals!" old Mr. Nixon shouted to the squir-
Hill.
know. The music rang up and down the for love, for tenderness,
homesick
girl
aimed
some
at
from Galwav, looking
it
street
lovelv
snap-
at old
shots in her third-floor room. "Here, Jupiter, here, Jupiter," Francis called to the
Mercers' retriever. Jupiter crashed through the tomato vines with the remains of a felt hat in his
mouth.
Jupiter was an anomaly. His retrieving instincts
of place in
Shady
Hill.
rakehell face. His eyes
He was
and
his
high
spirits
were out
as black as coal, with a long, alert, intelligent,
gleamed with mischief, and he held
his
head high.
It
was
and that used to appear on umbrella handles and walking sticks. Jupiter went where he pleased, ransacking wastebaskets, clotheslines, garbage pails, and shoe bags. He broke up garden parties and tennis matches, and got mixed up in the proces-
the fierce, heavily collared dog's head that appears in heraldr,', in
sional at Christ
Church on Sunday, barking
men
at the
tapestr\-,
in red dresses.^
He
crashed through old Mr. Nixon's rose garden two or three times a day, cutting a
wide swath through the Condesa de lighted his barbecue fire
on Thursday
Sastagos,''
and
nights, Jupiter
as
soon as Donald Goslin
would
get the scent. Noth-
and stones and rude commands only moved him to the edge of the terrace, where he remained, with his gallant and heraldic muzzle, waiting for Donald Goslin to turn his back and reach for ing the Goslins did could drive
the
salt.
fire,
Then he would
him away.
Sticks
spring onto the terrace,
and run away with the Goslins' dinner.
Wrightsons'
Even
German
old Mr.
lift
the steak lightK' off the
Jupiter's days
were numbered. The
gardener or the Farquarsons' cook would soon poison him.
Nixon might put some arsenic
in the
garbage that Jupiter loved.
"Here, Jupiter, Jupiter!" Francis called, but the dog pranced in his
white teeth. Looking
at the
windows of
off,
shaking the hat
his house, Francis
saw that
Julia
had come down and was blowing out the candles. Julia and Francis Weed went out a great deal. Julia was well liked and gregar*
and her love of parties sprang from a most natural dread of chaos and She went through the morning mail with real anxiet\', looking for invitations, and she usuallv found some, but she was insatiable, and if she had gone out seven nights a week, it would not have cured her of a reflecti\e look — the look of someone who hears distant music — for she would always suppose that there was a more brilliant party somewhere else. Francis limited her to two ious,
loneliness.
6.
Beethoven's Sonata Quasi una Fantasia (1802), a famous and frequently sentimentalized piano
composition. 9.
Rather
7.
With
uncommon
intentional
deviations
from
strict
yellow and red roses difficult to grow.
tempo.
8.
Probably the choir.
The Country Husband t 33 week-night the
parties, putting a flexible interpretation
weekend Hke
were
to
a
dory in a gale.
The day
on Friday, and rode through
Weeds
after the airplane crash, the
have dinner with the Farquarsons.
Francis got home late from town, and Julia got the sitter while he dressed, and then hurried him out of the house. The party was small and pleasant, and Francis settled down to enjoy himself A new maid passed the drinks. Her hair was dark, and her face was round and pale and seemed familiar to Francis. He had not developed his memory as a sentimental faculty. Wood smoke, lilac, and other such perfumes did not
appendix— a
escape the past;
it
He might
fully.
taking a walk
stir
him, and
vestigial repository. It
was perhaps
at
on Sunday afternoons, but
memory now. Her
or Irish
— but
it
memory was something
his limitation at all to
his limitation that
have seen the maid
ing his
his
was not
he had escaped
like his
be unable to it
so success-
other parties, he might have seen her in either case
he would not be search-
face was, in a wonderful way, a
was not beautiful enough
to
account
moon
face
— Norman
for his feeling that
he had
she was. Nellie said that the maid had
He come
Normandy — a
small
seen her before, in circumstances that he ought to be able to remember. asked Nellie Farquarson
who
home was Trenon,
through an agency, and that her
in
place with a church and a restaurant that Nellie had once visited. While Nellie
on about her
where he had seen the end of the war. He had left a replacement depot with some other men and taken a three-day pass in Trenon. On their second day, they had walked out to a crossroads to see the public chastisement of a young woman who had lived with the German commandant during the talked
woman
before.
It
travels abroad, Francis realized
had been
at the
Occupation. It
was a cool morning in the
onto the
dirt crossroads a very
could see
how
fall.
The
and poured down They were on high land and
sky was overcast,
discouraging
light.
one another the shapes of the clouds and the hills were as The prisoner arrived sitting on a three-legged farm cart. She stood by the cart while the Mayor read the accusation like
they stretched off toward the sea. stool in a
and the sentence. Her head was bent and her face was set in that empty half smile behind which the whipped soul is suspended. When the Mayor was finished, she undid her hair and let it fall across her back. A little man with a gray mustache cut off her hair with shears and dropped it on the ground. Then, with a bowl of soapy water and a straight razor, he shaved her skull clean. A woman approached and began to undo the fastenings of her clothes, but the prisoner pushed her aside and undressed herself. When she pulled her chemise over her head and threw it on the ground, she was naked. The women jeered; the men
There was no change in the falseness or the plaintiveness of the prisThe cold wind made her white skin rough and hardened the nipples of her breasts. The jeering ended gradually, put down by the recognition of their common humanity. One woman spat on her, but some inviolable granwere
still.
oner's smile.
deur in her nakedness lasted through the ordeal. she turned
— she
black shoes and stockings, lage.
The round
When
the crowd was quiet,
cry— and, with nothing on but a pair of worn walked down the dirt road alone away from the vil-
had begun
to
white face had aged a
little,
but there was no question but that
34 T John Cheever maid who passed his cocktails and later sened Francis woman who had been pimished at the crossroads. The war seemed now so distant and that world where the
tell
torture so long ago. Francis
have been a social as well as living
war of
room seemed united
— that there
human The
a
human
this
in the
Farquarsons'
claim that there had been no
was no danger or trouble
arrangements,
The people
error.
in their tacit
place, but the atmosphere of lite.
cost of partisanship
had lost track of the men who in Vesey. He could not count on Julia's discretion. He could anyone. And if he had told the story now, at the dinner table, it would
had been death or had been with him not
dinner was the
his
the
languid;
went
dilated. Julia
it
no
extraordinary meeting would have fallen into
Shady
made
Hill
the
memory unseemly and impo-
prisoner withdrew after passing the coffee, but the encounter
cis feeling
past,
in the world. In the recorded history
had opened
his
memon' and
his senses,
and
left
Fran-
left
them
into the house. Francis stayed in the car to take the sitter
home. Expecting to see Mrs. Henlein, the old lady
who
usually sta)ed with the
opened the door and came out onto the lighted stoop. She stayed in the light to count her textbooks. She was frowning and beautiful. Now, the world is full of beautiful young girls, but Francis saw here the difference between beaut) and perfection. All those endearing flaws, moles, birthmarks, and healed wounds were missing, and he experienced in his consciousness that moment when music breaks glass, and felt a pang of children, he was surprised
when
a
young
girl
recognition as strange, deep and wonderful as anything in his
hung from him she came down
life. It
her frown, from an impalpable darkness in her face—-a look that impressed as a direct appeal for love.
When
opened the car door. and shut the door.
the steps and
She got
in
she had counted her books,
In the light, he saw that her cheeks were wet.
"You're new," Francis said.
Henlein is sick. I'm Anne Murchison." "Did the children give you any trouble?" "Oh, no, no." She turned and smiled at him unhappily "Yes. Mrs.
light.
Her
to set
it
light hair
caught on the collar of her
jacket,
in the
dim dashboard
and she shook her head
loose.
"You've been
cr\'ing."
"Yes." "I
hope
"It's
no
was nothing that happened
it
"No, no,
Everybody
secret.
just called
me
in the village
our house."
in
your house." Her voice was bleak.
knows. Daddy's an alcoholic, and he
me a piece of his Weed came back."
from some saloon and gave
He
I'm immoral.
in
was nothing that happened
it
called just before Mrs.
mind.
He
thinks
"I'm sorry."
"Oh, Lordl" She gasped and began he took her
in his
embrace, and
this
arms and
let
her
to cry. ct\'
movement accentuated
on
layers of their clothing felt thin,
to diminish,
was so
much
like a
tvirned toward Francis,
She shook
in
and his
his sense of the fineness of her flesh
and bone. The it
She
his shoulder.
and when her shuddering began lost his head
paroxysm of love that Francis
The Country Husband t 35 and pulled her roughly against him. She drew away. "I live on Belleview Avenue," she said. "You go down Lansing Street to the railroad bridge." "All right."
"You turn
on toward the
The
He
started the car.
left at
that traffic light.
.
.
.
Now you turn
and go
right here
straight
tracks."
road Francis took brought
him out
of his
own neighborhood,
across the
and toward the river, to a street where the near-poor lived, in houses whose peaked gables and trimmings of wooden lace conveyed the purest feelings of pride and romance, although the houses themselves could not have offered much privacy or comfort, they were all so small. The street was dark, and, stirred tracks,
by the grace and beauty of the troubled have
come
he saw
a
into the deepest part of
porch
light burning.
It
light into a
clothes tree. "Well, here
we
he seemed,
in turning into
it,
to
In the distance,
was the only one, and she said that the house
with the light was where she lived.
beyond the porch
girl,
some submerged memory.
When
he stopped the
car,
he could see
dimly lighted hallway with an old-fashioned
are,"
he
said,
conscious that a young
man would
have said something different.
She did not move her hands from the books, where they were
folded,
and
she turned and faced him. There were tears of lust in his eyes. Determinedly—
not sadly— he opened the door on his side and walked around to open hers.
He
took her free hand, letting his fingers in between hers, climbed at her side the
two concrete
steps,
dahlias, marigolds,
and went up a narrow walk through a front garden where and roses— things that had withstood the light frosts— still
bloomed, and made
a bittersweet smell in the night air.
her hand and then turned and kissed
him
swiftly.
At the
Then
steps,
she freed
she crossed the porch
and shut the door. The porch light went out, then the light in the hall. A second later, a light went on upstairs at the side of the house, shining into a tree that was still covered with leaves. It took her only a few minutes to undress and get into bed, and then the house was dark. Julia was asleep when Francis got home. He opened a second window and
shut— as soon as he had dropped off to sleep— the girl entered his mind, moving with perfect freedom through its shut doors and filling chamber after chamber with got into bed to shut his eyes on that night, but as soon as they were
her
light,
her perfume, and the music of her voice.
with her on the old Mauretania^ and,
woke from
his
later, living
He was
crossing the Atlantic
When he open window. something he desired to
with her in Paris.
dream, he got up and smoked a cigarette
Getting back into bed, he cast around in his mind for
at the
would injure no one, and he thought of skiing. Up through the dimness rose the image of a mountain deep in snow. It was late in the day. Wherever his eyes looked, he saw broad and heartening things. Over his shoulder, there was a snow-filled valley, rising into wooded hills where the trees do
that
in his
mind
dimmed
the whiteness like a sparse coat of hair.
but the loud, iron clanking of the
lift
The cold deadened The light on the
machinery.
all
sound
trails
l.The original Mauretania (1907-1935), sister ship of the Lusitania, which was sunk by mans in 1915, was the most famous transatlantic liner of its day.
was
the Ger-
30
36 T John Cheever blue, and
it
was harder than
turns, harder to judge
it
had been
a
minute or two
earlier to pick the
— now that the snow was all deep blue — the crust, the Down
ice,
mountain he swung, matching his speed against the contours of a slope that had been formed in the first ice age, seeking with ardor some simplicity of feeling and circumstance. Night fell then, and he drank a Martini with some old friend in a dirt\- country'
the bare spots, and the deep piles of dr\' powder.
the
bar.
In the morning, Francis' snow-covered
mountain was gone, and he v\as left He had been bitten
with his vivid memories of Paris and the Mauretania. gravely.
He washed his The
body, shaved his jaws, drank his coffee, and missed the
out just as he brought his car to the station, and the longing he felt for the coaches as they drew stubbornly away from him reminded him of the humors of love. He waited for the eight-two, on what was now an empts platform. It was a clear morning; the morning seemed thrown like a gleaming bridge of light over his mixed affairs. His spirits were feverish and high. The image of the girl seemed to put him into a relationship to the world that was mysterious and enthralling. Cars were beginning to fill up the parking lot, and he noticed that those that had driven down from the high land seventv-thirty-one.
train pulled
above Shady Hill were white with hoarfrost. This thrilled
down cars
him. .\n express train— a night
first
clear sign of
autumn
from Buffalo or Albany— came
train
the tracks between the platforms, and he saw that the roofs of the foremost
were covered with
a skin of ice. Struck
by the miraculous physicalness of
everything, he smiled at the passengers in the dining car,
who could
be seen
mouths with napkins as thev traveled. The sleepingcar compartments, with their soiled bed linen, trailed through the fresh morning eating eggs and wiping their
rooming-house windows. Then he saw an extraordinan- thing; at one of the bedroom windows sat an unclothed woman of exceptional beauty, combing her golden hair. She passed like an apparition through Shady Hill, combing and combing her hair, and Francis followed her with his eyes until she was out of sight. Then old Mrs. Wrightson joined him on the platform and like a string of
began
to talk.
"Well,
I
me
guess you must be surprised to see
my window
here the third morning in a
becoming a regular commuter. The curtains I bought on Monday I returned on Tuesday, and the curtains I bought Tuesday I'm returning toda\ On Monday, I got exactly what I wanted — it's a wool tapestry with roses and birds— but when I got them home, I found the\ were the wrong length. Well, I exchanged them yesterday, and when I got them home, I found they were still the wrong length. Now I'm praying to high heaven that the decorator will have them in the right length. because you know my house, you know my living-room windows, and you can imagine what a problem they present. I don't know what to do with them." "I know what to do with them," Francis said. "What?" "Paint them black on the inside, and shut up." There was a gasp from Mrs. Wrightson, and Francis looked down at her to be sure that she knew he meant to be rude. She turned and walked awav from row," she said, "but because of
curtains I'm
.
The Country Husband him, so damaged as
light
if
in spirit that she limped.
A
37
wonderful feeling enveloped him,
were being shaken about him, and he thought again of Venus combing
and combing her hair as she drifted through the Bronx. The realization of how many years had passed since he had enjoyed being deliberately impolite sobered him. Among his friends and neighbors, there were brilliant and gifted people — he saw that— but many of them, also, were bores and fools, and he had made the mistake of listening to them all with equal attention. He had confused a lack
seemed general and
of discrimination with Christian love, and the confusion
He was
destructive.
grateful to the girl for this bracing sensation of indepen-
dence. Birds were singing— cardinals and the
of the robins.
last
The
sky shone
enamel. Even the smell of ink from his morning paper honed his appetite
like
and the world
for life, If
that
was spread out around him was plainly a paradise.
some hierarchy of
Francis had believed in
love
— in
armed with
spirits
hunting bows, in the capriciousness of Venus and Eros^— or even in magical potions, philters,
and
stews, in scapulae
and quarters of the moon,' it might spirits. The autumnal
have explained his susceptibility and his feverish high
middle age are well publicized, and he guessed that he was face
loves of
with one of these, but there was not a trace of
wanted the
to sport in the
autumn
in
what he
to face
felt.
He
green woods, scratch where he itched, and drink from
same cup.
morning— she went to a psychiatrist came in, Francis wondered what advice
His secretary, Miss Rainey, was late that three mornings a
would have
a psychiatrist life
something
lead
him
week— and when
like the
for
she
him. But the
girl
promised
sound of music. The realization
to
bring back into his
that this
straight to a trial for statutory rape at the countr}'
music might
courthouse collapsed
The photograph of his four children laughing into Gay Head reproached him. On the letterhead of his
on
his happiness.
the camera
the beach at
firm there was
a
drawing of the Laocoon,'^ and the figure of the
of the snake appeared to
He had lunch friends
him
to
priest
and
his sons in the coils
have the deepest meaning.
with Pinky Trabert. At a conversational level, the mores of his
were robust and
come down on them
all
elastic,
— on
but he knew that the moral card house would
Julia
and the children
as well
—
if
he got caught
taking advantage of a baby-sitter. Looking back over the recent history of Shady
some precedent, he found
There was no turpitude; had not even been a breath of scandal. Things seemed arranged with more propriety even than in Hill for
there was none.
there had not been a divorce since he lived there; there
the
Kingdom
of Heaven. After leaving Pinky, Francis went to a jeweler's and
How happy this clandestine purchase made him, how and comical the jeweler's clerks seemed, how sweet the women who passed at his back smelled! On Fifth Avenue, passing Atlas with his shoulders
bought the
girl a bracelet.
stuffy
The Roman name for the goddess of love (Greek Aphrodite) and the Greek name for her son (Roman Cupid). 3. Love-inducing and predictive magic. Scapulae: shoulderblades or bones of the back. 4. Famous Greek statue, described here, now in the Vatican museum; the "meaning" 2.
for
Weed seems
to reside in the physical struggle, not in the
legend
wooden
horse).
sons were punished for warning the Trojans about the
(in
which the
priest
and
his
John Cheever
38
bent under the weight of the world,"" Francis thought of the strenuousness of containing his physicalness within the patterns he had chosen.
He
40
pocket
her in the
door
know when he would see the girl next. He had the bracelet in when he got home. Opening the door of his house, he found hall. Her back was to him, and she turned when she heard the Her smile was open and loving. Her perfection stunned him like a
did not
his inside
close.
dav— a dav
fine
after a
He
thunderstorm.
seized her and covered her lips with
and she struggled but she did not have to struggle for long, because just then little Gertrude Flannen, appeared from somewhere and said, "Oh, Mr. his,
Weed
..."
Gertrude was a did not have
who
did not
it
know
was the child of a This was not
She had been born with
stra\'.
her to center her
in
a taste for exploration,
and she
with her affectionate parents. People
the Flanner\s concluded from Gertrude's behavior that she
famih, where drunken quarrels were the
bitterly di\ided
true.
life
The
fact that little
rule.
Gertrude's clothing was ragged and thin
was her own triumph over her mother's struggle
to dress
her warmly and neatly.
Garrulous, skinny, and unwashed, she drifted from house to house around the
BlenhoUow neighborhood, forming and breaking alliances based on an attachment to babies, animals, children her own age, adolescents, and sometimes adults. Opening vour front door in the morning, you would find Gertrude sitting on your stoop. Going into the bathroom to sha\e, you would find Gertrude using the
toilet.
Looking
into your son's crib,
you would find
looking further, \ou would find that Gertrude had pushed
She was
riage into the next village.
him
it
empt\-, and,
baby carand loyal. go arrived, she was in his
helpful, pervasive, honest, hungrv',
She never went home of her own choice. When the time to indifferent to all its signs. "Go home, Gertrude," people could be heard saying in one house or another, night after night. "Go home, Gertrude. It's time for you to go home now, Gertrude." 'Tou had better go home and get your supper, Gertrude." "I told you to go home twenty minutes ago, Gertrude." "Your mother will be worrying about you, Gertrude." "Go home, Gertrude, go home." There are times when the lines around the human eye seem like sheKes of eroded stone and when the staring eye
animal feeling that we are
itself .strikes
us with such a wilderness of
The look Francis ga\e the little girl was ugl\ He reached into his pockets — his hands were "Go home, Gertrude, go home, and don't tell
at a loss.
and queer, and it frightened her. shaking— and took out a quarter.
—
He choked and ran into the living room as Julia down to him from upstairs to hurry and dress. The thought that he would drive Anne Murchison home later that night ran
anyone, Gertrude. Don't
"
called
like a to,
golden thread through the events of the part) that Francis and Julia went
and he laughed uproariously
told
him about
grunted
like
man
anv other
bracelet was in his pocket.
5.
In
at dull jokes, dried a tear
when Mabel Mercer
the death of her kitten, and stretched, yawned, sighed, and
Greek legend the Titan
with a rendezvous at the back of his mind.
.\s
he
sat talking, the
Atlas supfwrted the heavens
depicted as bearing the globe; the statue
is
The
smell of grass was in his nose,
on
his shoulders but has
at Rockefeller Center.
come
to
be
The Country Husband t 39 arid
he was wondering where he would park the
car.
Nobody hved in the old Townsend Street last house. The old lane
Parker mansion, and the driveway was used as a lovers' lane.
was a dead end, and he could park there, beyond the that used to
connect
walked there with
brushwoods
to
Elm
Street to the riverbanks
his children,
and he could
was overgrown, but he had
drive his car
deep enough into the
be concealed.
The Weeds were the last to leave the party, and their host and hostess spoke own married happiness while they all four stood in the hallway saying
of their
good
night. "She's
my
girl," their
sky. After sixteen years,
I
host said, squeezing his wife. "She's
bite her shoulders.
still
She makes
me
my
blue
Hanni-
feel like
bal crossing the Alps.^"
The Weeds drove home and
sat
still,
in silence. Francis
brought the car up the driveway
with the motor running. "You can put the car in the garage," Julia
Murchison
said as she got out. "I told the
girl
she could leave at eleven. Some-
one drove her home." She shut the door, and Francis be spared nothing then,
it
seemed, that
a fool
sat in
jealousy, this hurt to his feelings that put tears in his eyes,
could see clearly the image he
wheel and
head buried
his
in
now
them
He would
even scorn— for he
presented, his arms spread over the steering for love.
Francis had been a dedicated Boy Scout
bering the precepts of his youth, he
the dark.
was not spared: ravening lewdness,
when he was young,
left his office early
and,
remem-
the next afternoon
and
played some round-robin squash, but, with his body toned up by exercise and a
shower, he realized that he might better have stayed at his desk.
It
was a
frosty
home. The air smelled sharply of change. When he stepped into the house, he sensed an unusual shr. The children were in their best clothes, and when Julia came down, she was wearing a lavender dress and her diamond sunburst. She explained the stir: Mr. Hubber was coming at seven to take their photograph for the Christmas card. She had put out Francis' blue suit and a tie with some color in it, because the picture was going to be in color this night
when he
year. Julia ft
got
was lighthearted
at
the thought of being photographed for Christmas,
was the kind of ceremony she enjoyed.
Francis went upstairs to change his clothes. He was tired from the day's work and hred with longing, and sitting on the edge of the bed had the effect of deepening his weariness. He thought of Anne Murchison, and the physical need to express himself, instead of
ing table, engulfed him.
being restrained by the pink lamps of Julia's dress-
He went
to Julia's desk,
took a piece of writing paper,
." No and began to write on it. "Dear Anne, I love you, I love you, I love you one would see the letter, and he used no restraint. He used phrases like "heavenly bliss," and "love nest." He salivated, sighed, and trembled. When Julia .
called
him
opened Julia
6.
so
to
come down,
wide that he
the abyss between his fantasy and the practical world
felt
it
affected the muscles of his heart.
and the children were on the
The Carthaginian
.
stoop,
general (274-183 B.C.) attacked the
considered impregnable, with the use of elephants.
and the photographer and
Romans from
his
the rear by crossing the Alps,
45
40 T John Cheever had
assistant
set
up
a
double
batten, of floodlights to
show the family and the
who had come home Weeds being photographed for their
architectural beauty of the entrance to their house. People
on
a late train slowed their cars to see the
A
Christmas card.
few waved and called
smiling and wetting their lights
made an
lips
to the family.
It
took half an hour of
Hubber was satisfied. The heat of the frost)' air, and when they were turned off,
before Mr.
unfresh smell in the
they lingered on the retina of Francis' eyes. Later that night, while Francis and Julia were drinking their coffee in the
room, the doorbell rang. Julia answered the door and let in Clayton Thomas. He had come to pay for some theatre tickets that she had given his mother some time ago, and that Helen Thomas had scrupulously insisted on paying for, though Julia had asked her not to. Julia invited him in to have a cup living
won't have any coffee," Clayton said, "but
of coffee.
"I
minute."
He
and
awkwardly
sat
I
will
come
in for a
followed her into the living room, said good evening to Francis, in a chair.
Cla\ton's father had been killed in the war, and the young man's father-
50
surrounded him
lessness
an element. This
like
may have been conspicuous
in
because the Thomases were the only family that lacked a piece; all the other marriages were intact and productive. Clayton was in his second or third year of college, and he and his mother lived alone in a large house, which
Shady
Hill
she hoped to
Clayton had once
sell.
made some
some money and run away; he had
stolen
trouble. Years ago,
he had
got to California before they caught
up with him. He was tall and homely, wore hornrimmed glasses, and spoke in deep voice. "When do you go back to college, Clayton?" Francis asked. "I'm not going back," Clayton said. "Mother doesn't have the money, and there's no sense in all this pretense. I'm going to get a job, and if we sell the
a
house, we'll take an apartment in
"Won't you miss Shady "No," Clayton 55
"Why
said. "I don't like
lot
here
I
don't approve of," Clavton said gravely. "Things
club dances. Last Saturday night,
Mr. Granner trying
"It
it."
not?" Francis asked.
"Well, there's a like the
drunk.
New York."
Hill?" Julia asked.
to
disapprove of so
I
I
looked
in
toward the end and
put Mrs. Minot into the trophy case.
much
saw-
They were both
drinking."
was Saturday night," Francis
said.
"And the way people clutter up their lives. I've thought about it a lot, and what seems to me to be really wrong with Shady Hill is that it doesn't have any future. So much energy is spent in perpetuating the place — in keeping out undesirables, and so forth — that the only idea of the future anyone has is just more and more commuting trains and more parties. 1 don't think that's healthy. I think people ought to be able to dream big dreams about the future. I think people ought to be able to dream great dreams." "And
"It's
60
"I
all
the dovecotes are phony," Clayton said.
too bad you couldn't continue with college," Julia said.
want
to
go
to divinit}' school,"
Clayton
said.
The Country Husband t 41 "What's your church?" Francis asked. "Unitarian, Theosophist, Transcendentahst, Humanist,"' Clayton said.
"Wasn't Emerson a transcendentalist?" Juha asked. "I
mean
the
Enghsh transcendentahsts," Clayton
said. "All the
American
transcendentalists were goops."
"What kind
of job do you expect to get?" Francis asked.
65
work for a publisher," Clayton said, "but everyone tells me there's nothing doing. But it's the kind of thing I'm interested in. I'm writing a long verse play about good and evil. Uncle Charlie might get me into a bank, "Well,
and
that
forming
ought
I'd like to
would be good
my
character.
vows of
to take
for I
me.
silence.
pline myself. I've thought of teries,
but
I
I
need the
have some I
discipline.
terrible habits.
ought
making
to try not to
a retreat at
I
I
have a long way to go in
much.
talk too
I
think
I
speak for a week, and disci-
one of the Episcopalian monas-
don't like Trinitarianism."
"Do you have any
friends?" Francis asked.
girl
"I'm engaged to be married," Clayton said. "Of course, I'm not old enough
enough
or rich I
have
to
my engagement
bought a simulated emerald
cutting lawns this
observed or respected or anything, but
Anne Murchison
for
summer. We're going
to
money
with the
be married
as
soon
as
I
made
she finishes
school."
Francis recoiled at the mention of the
seemed chairs
to
emanate from
his spirit,
— in their true colorlessness.
"We're going
rummy, and
I've
to
It
girl's
was
like a bitter turn of the
have a large family," Clayton
had
my
name. Then
a dingy light
showing everything— Julia, the boy, the said.
"Her
hard times, and we want to have
lots
weather.
father's a terrible
of children.
70
Oh,
Mr. and Mrs. Weed, and we have so much in common. We same things. We sent out the same Christmas card last year without planning it, and we both have an allergy to tomatoes, and our eyebrows grow she's wonderful, like all the
together in the middle. Well, goodnight." Julia
went
to the
door with him.
When
she returned, Francis said that Clay-
ton was lazy, irresponsible, affected, and smelly. Julia said that Francis
seemed
Thomas boy was young and should be
given a
to
be getting intolerant; the
chance. Julia had noticed other cases where Francis had been short-tempered. "Mrs. Wrightson has asked everyone in Shady Hill to her anniversary party but us," she said.
"I'm sorry, Julia."
"Do you know why
they didn't ask us?"
"Why?" "Because you insulted Mrs. Wrightson."
"Then you know about
75
it?"
"June Masterson told me. She was standing behind you." Julia
knew,
walked
7. All are deviations
though tended
in front of the sofa with a small step that expressed, Francis
a feeling of anger.
to
to be more man- than God-oriented, American transcendentalists (see below)
from orthodox Christianity and tend
their differences hardly
seem
reconcilable; the
change the emphasis from the study of thought
to belief in "intuition."
John Cheever
42
did insult Mrs. Wrightson, Julia, and
"I
and I'm glad she's dropped "What about Helen?"
80
"How
come
does Helen
I
meant
to.
I've
never liked her
us."
parties,
into this?"
"Mrs. Wrightson 's the one
who
decides
who
'Tou mean she can keep Helen from going
goes to the assemblies." to the
dances?"
"Yes."
hadn't thought of that."
"I
85
"Oh. this
knew you hadn't thought
I
chink of his armor. "And
it
of
Julia cried, thrusting hiltdeep into
it,"
me
makes
furious to see this kind of stupid
thoughtlessness wreck everyone's happiness." don't think I've wrecked anyone's happiness."
"I
"Mrs. Wrightson runs Shady Hill and has run don't
know what makes you
ever)'
impulse you have
toward the
you, Francis
be insulting, vulgar, and offensive."
Weed!"
worked hard
in the face. "I've I
I
said, trying to give the
evening a turn
light.
"Damn
90
to
have very good manners," Francis
"I
for the last forty years.
it
think that in a communit\- like this you can indulge
Julia cried,
won't stand by and see you wreck
settled here that
you couldn't expect
"I've got to express
my
likes
"You can conceal your like a child.
and the
for the social position
and
dislikes.
spit of
him
her words struck
we enjoy
in this place,
and
You must have understood when you
it.
bear in a cave."
to live like a
dislikes."
You
don't have to
meet everything head on, It's no accident that we
Unless you're anxious to be a social leper.
It's no accident that Helen has so many friends. How would you like to spend your Saturday nights at the movies? How would you like to spend your Sunday raking up dead leaves? How would you like it if your daughter spent the assembly nights sitting at her window, listening to the music
get asked out a great deal!
How would
from the club? all,
you
like
it—"
He
did something then that was, after
not so unaccountable, since her words seemed to raise up between them a
wall so
deadening that he gagged. He struck her
full in
the face. She staggered
and then, a moment later, seemed composed. She went up the stairs to room. She didn't slam the door. When Francis followed, a few minutes he found her packing "Julia, "It
95
doesn't matter," she said.
don't know.
"I
York.
"You "I
a suitcase.
I'm very sorry."
"Where do you
New
I'll
She was
crying.
think you're going?" I
just
looked
at a timetable.
There's an eleven-sixteen into
take that."
can't go, Julia."
can't stay.
I
know
that."
"I'm sorry about Mrs. Wrightson, Julia, and I'm 100
"It
doesn't matter about Mrs. Wrightson. That
"What
their later,
is
the trouble?"
"You don't love me." "I do love you, Julia."
—"
isn't
the trouble."
The Country Husband t 43 "No, you don't." "Julia, I do love you, and and dark— but now there are "You hate me." "I
I
would
so
many
like to
be
as
we were— sweet and bawdy
105
people."
don't hate you, Julia."
"You have no idea of how much you hate me.
I
think
it's
subconscious.
You
don't realize the cruel things you've done."
"What cruel things, Julia?" "The cruel acts your subconscious
drives
you
to in order to express
your
no
hatred of me."
"What, Julia?" "I've never complained." "Tell me."
"You don't know what you're doing." "Tell me." "Your clothes." "What do you mean?" "I mean the way you leave your dirty clothes around subconscious hatred of me." "I
don't understand."
"I
mean your
and your
dirty socks
dirty shirts!"
She
115
in order to express
your
and your dirty pajamas and your dirty underwear from kneeling by the suitcase and faced him,
rose
her eyes blazing and her voice ringing with emotion. "I'm talking about the fact that you've never learned to
hang up anything. You
just leave
over the floor where they drop, in order to humiliate me.
She
fell
on the bed, sobbing. he said, but when she
"Julia, darling!"
"Leave closet
me
alone," she said.
and came back with
"I
have
felt his
to go."
a dress. "I'm not taking
your clothes
You do
it
all
on purpose!"
hand on her shoulder she got She brushed
past
him
to the
any of the things you've given
me, she said. "I'm leaving my pearls and the fur jacket." "Oh, Julia!" Her figure, so helpless in its self-deceptions, bent over the "
suit-
She did not understand how desolate her life would be without him. She didn't understand the hours that working women have to keep. She didn't understand that most of her friendships existed within the framework of their marriage, and that without this she would find herself alone. She didn't understand about travel, about hotels, about money. "Julia, I can't let you go! What you don't understand, Julia, is that you've come to be dependent on me." She tossed her head back and covered her face with her hands. "Did you say that I was dependent on you?" she asked. "Is that what you said? And who is it that tells you what time to get up in the morning and when to go to bed at night? Who is it that prepares your meals and picks up your dirty clothes and invites your friends to dinner? If it weren't for me, your neckties would be greasy and your clothing would be full of moth holes. You were alone when I met you, Francis Weed, and vou'll be alone when I leave. When Mother asked vou for a case
made him
nearly sick with pity.
120
44 T John Cheever list
send out invitations to our wedding,
to
how
names
nian\
did \ou have to
give her? Fourteen!"
my home, Julia." "And how many of your friends came "Cleveland wasn't my home, Julia." "Cleveland wasn't
125
to the
church? Two!"
"Since I'm not taking the fur jacket," she said quietly, "you'd better put
it
back into storage. There's an insurance policy on the pearls that comes due in Januar\'. The name of the laundry and maid's telephone number— all those things are in
nothing bad
my will
desk.
hope you won't drink too much, Francis. 1 hope to you. If you do get into serious trouble, you can
1
happen
that call
me."
"Oh,
He
"I
130
mv
darling,
I
can't let
you go!" Francis
said. "I can't let
you go,
Julia!"
took her in his arms. guess
Riding the coach. in the city,
I'd
to
and take care of you
better stay
work
He was
in the
morning, Francis
surprised;
while longer," she
walk
down
said.
the aisle of
he hadn't realized that the school she went
to
was
but she was carrying books, she seemed to be going to school. His
surprise delayed his reaction, but then aisle.
for a little
saw^ the girl
Several people had
he got up clumsily and stepped
come between them, but he could
into the
see her ahead of
someone to open the car door, and then, as the train swer\ed, hand to support herself as she crossed the platform into the next car. He followed her through that car and halfway through another before call— "Anne! Anne!" — but she didn't turn. He followed her into still ing her name another car, and she sat down in an aisle seat. Coming up to her, all his feelings warm and bent in her direction, he put his hand on the back of her seat— even this touch warmed him — and leaning down to speak to her, he saw that it was not Anne. It was an older woman wearing glasses. He went on deliberately into another car, his face red with embarrassment and the much deeper feeling of having his good sense challenged; for if he couldn't tell one person from another, what evidence was there that his life with Julia and the children had as^ much reality as his dreams of iniquity in Paris or the litter, the grass smell, and him, waiting
for
putting out her
the cave-shaped trees in Lovers' Lane.
Late that afternoon, Julia called to remind F^rancis that they were going out for dinner.
A few minutes later. Trace
"I'm calling for Mrs. Thomas.
seem able
—
Bell
I
to get a job,
know
Charlie would "Trace,
I
I
called. "Look, fellar,"
that
boy of
wondered if you could help. If you'd you — and say a good word for the
It's
said.
call
kid,
Charlie I
think
—"
hate to say this," Francis said, "but
The
kid's worthless.
Any kindness done
for
him would
I
know
it's
I
don't feel that
I
can do any-
a harsh thing to say, but
it's
a
backfire in everybody's face. He's just a
worthless kid. Trace, and there's nothing else to be done about
got
Trace
hers, doesn't
he's indebted to
thing for that boy. fact.
and
Bearden
You know? Clayton,
it.
Even
if
we
he wouldn't be able to keep it for a week. I know that to be a fact. an awful thing. Trace, and know it is, but instead of recommending that
him
a job,
kid, I'd feel obligated to
I
warn people against him — people who knew
his father
The Country Husband t 45 and would naturally want them. He's a thief.
The moment
to step in
and do something.
I'd feel
obliged to warn
." .
this
conversation was finished, Miss Rainey
came
in
and stood
work for you any more, Mr. Weed," she said. "I can stay until the seventeenth if you need me, but I've been offered a whirlwind of a job, and I'd like to leave as soon as possible." She went out, leaving him to face alone the wickedness of what he had done to the Thomas boy. His children in their photograph laughed and laughed, by his desk. "I'm not going
to
be able
to
all the bright colors of summer, and he remembered that they had met a bagpiper on the beach that day and he had paid the piper a dollar to play them a battle song of the Black Watch. ^ The girl would be at the house when he got home. He would spend another evening among his kind neighbors, picking and choosing dead-end streets, cart tracks, and the driveways of abandoned
glazed with
houses. There was nothing to mitigate his feeling— nothing that laughter or a
game
of softball with the children would change
— and,
thinking back over the
new maid, and Anne Murchison's difficulties with her drunken father, he wondered how he could have avoided arriving at just where he was. He was in trouble. He had been lost once in his life, coming back from a trout stream in the north woods, and he had now the same bleak realization that no amount of cheerfulness or hopefulness or valor or perseverance could help him find, in the gathering dark, the path that he'd lost. He smelled the forest. The feeling of bleakness was intolerable, and he saw clearly that he had reached the point where he would have to make a choice. plane crash, the Farquarsons'
He
could go
confess his that
lusts;
to a psychiatrist, like
he could go
to a
had been recommended by
Miss Rainey; he could go to church and
Danish-massage a salesman;
parlor'^ in
the
he could rape the
he would somehow be prevented from doing
this;
West Seventies girl
or trust that
or he could get drunk.
It
was
man, he was made to be the father of thousands, and what harm could there be in a tryst that would make them both feel more kindly toward the world? This was the wrong train of thought, and he came back to the first, the psychiatrist. He had the telephone number of Miss Rainey's doctor, and he called and asked for an immediate appointment. He his
life,
his boat, and, like every other
insistent with the doctor's secretary— it was his manner in business — and when she said that the doctor's schedule was full for the next few weeks, Francis demanded an appointment that day and was told to come at five. The psychiatrist's office was in a building that was used mostly by doctors
was
and dentists, and the hallways were filled with the candy smell of mouthwash and memories of pain. Francis' character had been formed upon a series of private resolves
— resolves
about cleanliness, about going off the high diving
board or repeating any other feat that challenged his courage, about punctuality, honesty, and virtue. his
8.
most
vital
To
Originally a British Highland regiment that
battle.
9.
Sometimes
made him now in a
abdicate the perfect loneliness in which he had
decisions shattered his concept of character and
became
a line regiment
fronts for houses of prostitution.
left
and distinguished
itself in
135
"
"
John Cheever
46
condition that
Deus' was,
felt like
He was
shock.
stupefied.
room of
waiting
like the
many
so
gesture toward the sweets of domestic
bliss: a
The scene
for his miserere
met
doctor's offices, a crude token
place arranged with antiques, cof-
and etchings of snow-co\ered bridges and geese in flight, although there were no children, no marriage bed, no stove, even, in this tra\est\ of a house, where no one had ever spent the night and where the curfee tables, potted plants,
tained
windows looked
onto
straight
dark
a
air shaft.
Francis gave his
name and moving Keep vour
address to a secretarv' and then saw, at the side of the room, a policeman
toward him. "Hold
hands where they "I
think
looking for
hold
the policeman said. "Don't move.
it,"
are.
it's all
make
"Let's
it,
right. Officer,
"
the secretar\ began.
policeman
sure," the
what— pistols,
said,
"I
and he began
think
it
knives, an icepick? Finding nothing,
the secretarx' began a nervous apologv':
"When vou
will
be—
to slap Francis' clothes,
called
he went
off
and
on the telephone,
Mr. Weed, you seemed
ver\ excited, and one of the doctor's patients has been and we have to be careful. If you want to go in now?" Francis pushed open a door connected to an electrical chime, and in the doctor's lair sat down heavily, blew his nose into a handkerchief, searched in his pockets for cigarettes, for matches, for something, and said hoarsely, with tears
threatening his
^
L 140
in his eyes,
life,
"I'm in love. Dr. Herzog."
The
seven-fourteen has come and and the dishes are in the dishwashing machine. The village hangs, morally and economically, from a thread; but it hangs bv its thread in the evening light. Donald Goslin has begun to worn,' the "Moonlight Sonata" again. Marcato ma sempre pianissimo!' He seems to be wringing out a wet bath towel, but the housemaid does not heed him. She is It is
a
week
or ten davs later in
Shady
gone, and here and there dinner
Hill.
finished
is
writing a letter to Artliur Godfrey.' In the cellar of his house, Francis
recommends woodwork
building a coffee table. Dr. Herzog Francis finds
some
true consolation in
new wood. tired. He puts
Weed
is
and the simple arithmetic involved and in as a therapy,
is happ\ Upstairs, little Tobv is cning, cowboy hat, gloves, and fringed jacket, unbuckles the belt studded with gold and rubies, the silver bullets and holsters, slips off his suspenders, his checked shirt, and Levi's, and sits on the edge of his bed to pull off his high boots. Leaving this equipment in a heap, he goes to the closet and takes his space suit off a nail. It is a struggle for him to get into the
the holv smell of
Francis
because he
off his
long
tights,
is
He
but he succeeds.
climbing onto the footboard of
.
loops the magic cape over his shoulders and,
his bed,
distance to the floor, landing with a
he spreads his arms and
thump
that
is
flies
the short
audible to everyone in the
house but himself.
"Go home, Gertrude, go home," an hour ago, Gertrude.
1. !>.
Have mercy upon me, 3.
O
At the time of the
housewives.
It's
wav
God;
first
story,
Mrs. Masterson
words of
51st
Psalm.
you to go home and vour mother will be
says. "I told
past vour suppertime,
2. Stressed
but alwav's very
soft-
host of a daytime radio program esp>ecially popular with
Sonny's Blues t 47
Go home!" A
worried.
door on the Babcocks' terrace
flies
open, and out comes
Mrs. Babcock without any clothes on, pursued by a naked husband. (Their chil-
dren are away
boarding school, and their terrace
at
terrace they go
Over the
nymph and
and
screened by a hedge.)
is
in at the kitchen door, as passionate
and handsome
on any wall in Venice. Cutting the last of the roses in her garden, Julia hears old Mr. Nixon shouting at the squirrels in his bird-feeding station. "Rapscallions! Varmints! Avaunt and quit my sight!" A miserable cat wanders into the garden, sunk in spiritual and physical discomfort. a
Tied
to
its
satyr as
head
it
shakes
will find
a small straw
is
from the
into a doll's dress,
walks,
you
feet, as if
its
hat— a
skirts it
had
doll's
hat— and
of which protrudes
is
it
securely buttoned
long, hairy
its
As
tail.
it
fallen into water.
"Here, pussy, pussy, pussy!" Julia
calls.
"Here, pussy, here, poor pussy!" But the cat gives her a skeptical look and
stumbles away in
its skirts.
tomato vines, holding in
Then
it is
dark;
it is
The
his
a night
last to
come
is
He
Jupiter.
prances through the
generous mouth the remains of an evening slipper.
where kings
golden
in
suits ride
elephants over the
mountains.'*
1958
JAMES BALDWIN Sonny's Blues I
read about
it
in the paper, in the subway,
couldn't believe
it,
and
I
read
it
again.
on
my way
Then perhaps
newsprint spelling out his name, spelling out the
story.
to work. I
I
I
read
just stared at
stared at
it
it, it,
and
I
at the
in the swing-
ing lights of the subway car, and in the faces and bodies of the people, and in
my own It
face, trapped in the darkness
was not
subway
to
be believed and
station to the high school.
was scared, scared got settled in
my
I
my
Sonny.
for
belly
classes algebra.
It
which roared
outside.
kept telling myself that, as
And
the
at
He became
same time
real to
me
and kept melting there slowly
was a special kind of
ice. It
I
again. all
I
walked from the
couldn't doubt
A great
it.
I
block of ice
day long, while
I
taught
kept melting, sending trickles
all up and down my veins, but it never got less. Sometimes it hardened and seemed to expand until I felt my guts were going to come spilling out or that I was going to choke or scream. This would always be at a moment when I was remembering some specific thing Sonny had once said or done.
of ice water
When he was about as old as the boys in my classes his face had been bright and open, there was a lot of copper in it; and he'd had wonderfully direct brown 4.
See Sinclair Lewis, Main Street
Prairie stifling
for
which the protagonist
finds the small
Washington, D.C., where, she
tells
town of Gopher
him,
"
'We're going
elephants with golden howdahs from which peep young maharanees with necklaces of
to find
"
rubies.
(1920), in
and leaves with her son
.' .
.
James Baldwin
48
and great gentleness and
eyes,
privacy.
wondered what he looked like now. He in a raid on an apartment downtown,
I
had been picked up, the evening before, peddling and using heroin.
for
it: but what I mean by that is that I couldn't find any room anywhere inside me. I had kept it outside me for a long time. I hadn't wanted to know. 1 had had suspicions, but I didn't name them, I kept putting them away. I told myself that Sonny was wild, but he wasn't crazy. And he'd always been a good boy, he hadn't ever turned hard or evil or disrespectful, the way kids can, so quick, so quick, especially in Harlem. I didn't want to believe
couldn't believe
I
for
it
my
that I'd ever see
brother going down,
coming
to nothing, all that light in his
gone out, in the condition I'd already seen so many others. Yet it had happened and here I was, talking about algebra to a lot of boys who might, everyone of them for all I knew, be popping off needles every time they went to the face
Maybe
head.'
it
did
more
"^I was sure that the
been
much
for
first
them than
algebra could.
time Sonny had ever had horse, ^ he couldn't have
older than these boys were now. These boys, now, were living as
we'd been living then, they were growing up with a rush and their heads
bumped
abruptly against the low ceiling of their actual possibilities.
They were
filled
with rage. All they really
knew were two
lives,
which was now closing
on them, and the darkness of the movies, which
had blinded them
dreamed,
at
in
to that other darkness,
and
darknesses, the darkness of their
in
which they now,
once more together than they were
vindictively,
any other time, and more
at
alone.
When as
the
last bell
been holding
I'd
though
I'd
it
been
rang, the last class ended,
for all that time. sitting in a
Mv
steam bath,
alone in the classroom a long time.
let
I
out
all
my
time.
It
dressed up,
all
was mocking and insular,
me
for
in this, also, lay the authority of their curses.
my
And
brother.
was thinking about
perhaps the
intent was to denigrate.
It
disenchanted, and
I
sat
I
— God knows why— one associ-
ates with children.
them because
looked
afternoon.
listened to the boys outside, downstairs,
I
was not the joyous laughter which
listening to
seemed
It
I
shouting and cursing and laughing. Their laughter struck first
breath.
wet— may have
clothes were
its
my
Perhaps
brother and in
them
I
It
was
I
was
heard
myself.
One boy was
whistling a tune, at once very complicated and very simple,
it
seemed to be pouring out of him as though he were a bird, and it sounded very cool and moving through all that harsh, bright air, only just holding its own through I
yard.
all
stood It
those other sounds.
up and walked over
to the
window and looked down
was the beginning of the spring and the sap was
teacher passed through
them
every
now and
into the court-
rising in the boys.
A
again, quickly, as though he or she
couldn't wait to get out of that courtyard, to get those boys out of their sight and off their minds.
I
started collecting
my
stuff.
I
thought
I'd better get
home and
talk to Isabel.
The 1.
courtyard was almost deserted by the time
Lavaton'.
2.
Heroin.
I
got downstairs.
I
saw
this
Sonny's Blues r 49 in the shadow of a doorway, looking just like Sonny. I almost called name. Then I saw that it wasn't Sonny, but somebody we used to know, a boy from around our block. He'd been Sonny's friend. He'd never been mine, having been too young for me, and, anyway, I'd never liked him. And now, even though he was a grown-up man, he still hung around that block, still spent hours on the street corners, was always high and ragg)-. I used to run into him from time to time and he'd often work around to asking me for a quarter or fift}' cents. He always had some real good excuse, too, and I always gave it to him. I don't
boy standing his
know why. But now, abruptly,
I
hated him.
partly like a dog, partly like a
he was doing
He
way he looked at me, him what the hell
couldn't stand the
I
cunning
child.
I
wanted
to ask
in the school courtyard.
sort of shuffled over to
me, and he
know about it." "You mean about Sonny? Yes,
said, "I see
you got the papers. So you
already
I
already
know about
it.
How come they didn't
get you?"
He
and it also brought to mind what he'd away from them people." "Good for you." I offered him a cigarette and I watched him through the smoke. "You come all the way down here just to tell me about Sonny?" "That's right." He was sort of shaking his head and his eyes looked strange, as though they were about to cross. The bright sun deadened his damp dark brown skin and it made his eyes look yellow and showed up the dirt in his kinked hair. He smelled funky. I moved a little away from him and I said, "Well, thanks. But I already know about it and I got to get home." "I'll walk you a little ways," he said. We started walking. There were a couple of kids still loitering in the courtyard and one of them said goodnight to me and looked strangely at the boy beside me. "What're you going to do?" he asked me. "I mean, about Sonny?" "Look. I haven't seen Sonny for over a year, I'm not sure I'm going to do anything. Anway, what the hell can I do?" "That's right," he said quickly, "ain't nothing you can do. Can't much help old Sonny no more, I guess." It was what I was thinking and so it seemed to me he had no right to say it. "I'm surprised at Sonny, though," he went on — he had a funny way of talking, he looked straight ahead as though he were talking to himself— "I thought Sonny was a smart boy, I thought he was too smart to get hung." "I guess he thought so too," I said sharply, "and that's how he got hung. .\nd grinned.
looked
It
made him
repulsive
like as a kid. "I wasn't there.
I
stay
how about you? You're pretty goddamn smart, I bet." Then he looked directly at me, just for a minute. "I I
was smart,
I'd
have reached
"Look. Don't
Then
bastard
going
felt
I
tell
for a pistol a
me your
sad story,
ain't smart,"
said. "If
if it
was up
to
me,
I'd give
you one."
guilty— guilty, probably, for never having supposed that the poor
had a stor)' of his own, much happen to him now?"
less a
sad one, and
I
asked, quickly, "What's
to
He
he
long time ago."
didn't answer this.
He was
off
by himself some place.
James Baldwin
50
"Funny thing
first
I
and from
thing," he said,
way
the quickest
asked myself was
if
saw the papers
I
had anything
I
we might have been
his tone
"when
Brooklyn,
to get to
do with
to
it.
this
discussing
morning, the of respon-
felt sort
I
sible." I
began
ducked
peering
He
in,
stopped, too.
was on the corner,
station
We
were
but whoever he was looking
just
of a bar and he
in front
seem
for didn't
to
be
juke box was blasting away with something black and bouncv and
danced her way from the juke box
half watched the barmaid as she
behind the
bar.
someone
thing
The subway
carefully.
stopped.
I
slightly,
The
there.
more
to listen
before us, and
one saw the
And
I
I
her place
to
watched her face as she laughingly responded to somestill keeping time to the music. When she smiled
said to her,
little girl,
one sensed the doomed,
woman
still-struggling
beneath
the battered face of the semi-whore.
never give Sonny nothing," the boy said
"I
come
high and Sonny asked
to school
bear to watch him,
seemed
to
I
He
felt."
it
watched the barmaid, and
be causing the pavement
"but a long time ago
finally,
me how
paused,
listened to the
I
to shake. "I told
him
All this
want
to
I
couldn't
music which
felt great."
it
music stopped, the barmaid paused and watched the juke box began again.
I
until the
The
music
"It did."
me some
was carrying
know how
it felt.
It
place
I
didn't
want
to go.
certainly didn't
I
everything, the people, the houses, the music,
filled
menace; and this menace was their reality. happen to him now?" I asked again. "They'll send him away some place and they'll try to cure him." He shook head. "Maybe he'll even think he's kicked the habit. Then they'll let him
the dark, quicksilver barmaid, with
p
"What's going
his
loose"
to
— he gestured,
throwing his cigarette into the gutter. "That's
all."
"What do you mean, that's all?" But I knew what he meant. mean,
"I
that's all."
He
at me, pulling down the mean?" he asked, softly. know what you mean?" I almost whispered it, I don't
turned his head and looked
corners of his mouth. "Don't you 55
"How
the hell would
I
know what
I
know why. "That's right," he said to the
me
turned toward
again, patient
air,
shaking as though he were going to the dread
I'd felt all
let
You mean
in again.
yet
apart.
I
killing himself,
40
He wants
looked
to live.
him
he'll
I
out.
Then
I
in surprise.
Don't nobod\ want
wanted
felt that ice in
I
And
then
to ask
he'll just start
never kick the habit.
"why does he want why does he want to die?"
me
felt
mean?" He him shaking,
I
my
guts again,
mean."
said at last,
at
somehow
I
"That's right," he said, cheerfully. "You see "Tell me,"
I
watched the barmaid, moving about and singing. "Listen. They'll let him out and then it'll
over again. That's what
'Tou mean — they'll back
fall
afternoon; and again
the bar, washing glasses, just start all
"how would he know what
and calm, and
He
what
Is I
to die?
licked his
lips.
that
working
his
way
what you mean?"
mean."
He must want
"He
to die, he's
don't want to die.
He
to die, ever."
him — too manv
things.
He
could not have answered,
Sonny's Blues t 51 or it's
if
he had,
could not have borne the answers.
I
my
none of "It's
going
to
be rough on old Sonny," he
station.
"This
is
your station?" he asked.
"Damn!" he I
said, suddenly.
didn't leave
for a
started walking. "Well,
I
I
guess
business."
I
looked up
my money home. You
all
couple of days,
is
I
He
him.
at
We
said.
nodded.
reached the subway took one step down.
I
"Damn
it if
on you, have you?
Just
grinned again.
ain't got a dollar
all."
once something inside gave and threatened to come pouring out of didn't hate him any more. I felt that in another moment I'd start crying
All at
me.
I
like a child.
"Sure," I
He
"Don't sweat."
said.
I
only had a
"Here,"
five.
said.
I
I
looked in
my
and didn't have
wallet
a dollar,
"That hold you?"
didn't look at it— he didn't
want
to look at
over his face, as though he were keeping the
it.
A terrible,
number on
him and me. "Thanks," he said, and now he was dying Maybe I'll write him or something."
the
closed look
came
secret
from
bill a
to see
me
go.
45
"Don't
worry about Sonny. "Sure,"
said.
I
'Tou do
"Be seeing you," he
And
was
it
which made
me
I
Sonny
didn't write
I
finally did,
So long." went on down the
that.
said.
or send
my
just after
steps.
him anything died,
little girl
for a
long time.
me
and he wrote
back
When
I
a letter
feel like a bastard.
Here's what he said:
Dear
brother,
50
You don't know how much I needed to hear from you. I wanted to write you many a time but I dug how much must have hurt you and so I didn't write. But now I feel like a man who's been trying to climb up out of some deep, real deep and I
funky hole and I I
can't
guess
know
I
I
tell
saw the sun up there, outside.
much
about
I
was afraid of something or
and
got here.
I
was trying
I
can't see what's
I
were nice
to
me
and who believed
don't want you to think
more than
happened
would never have hurt you
was doing
down
how
I
got to get outside.
mean to
don't
I
know how
that.
here and
Or maybe I
it
less
in
to their so,
son and
you and
I
swear
Mama
and Daddy known what I fine people who
if I'd
a lot of other
me.
had anything than
that.
I
to
do with
me
being a musician.
can't get anything straight in
not to think about what's going to happen to
try
to tell you.
escape from something and you
have never been very strong in the head (smile). I'm glad
are dead
I
just
you
my
me when
It's
head I
get
and never get outside and sometime I think I'll come straight back. I tell you one thing, though, I'd rather blow my brains out than go through this again. But that's what they all say, so they tell me. If I tell you when I'm coming to New York and if you could meet me, I sure would appreciate it. outside again.
Give wish to
my I
me
good
Sometime
think I'm going to
love to Isabel and the kids and
could be
like
that trouble it
I
is
Mama and say the the
does to blame
it
I
flip
was sure sorry
to
hear about
little
Gracie.
I
know it seems one thing that never does get stopped and don't know what on the Lord. But maybe it does some good if you believe it. Lord's will be done, but
I
don't I
Your brother. Sonny
James Baldwin
52
Then
kept in constant touch with
I
him and
sent
I
him whatever
I
could and
meet him when he came back to New York. When I saw him many thought had forgotten came flooding back to me. This was because things had begun, finally, to wonder about Sonny, about the life that Sonny lived inside. This life, whatever it was, had made him older and thinner and it had deepened the distant stillness in which he had always moved. He looked very I
went
to
my
unlike
I
I
I
brother
I'd
baby brother. Yet, when he smiled, when we shook hands, the baby never known looked out from the depths of his private life, like an
animal waiting
be coaxed into the
to
"How you been
And you?" He was smiling
"All right.
55
"Just fine."
good
"It's
The dered
if
over his face.
all
"It's
good
to see
you again."
to see you."
seven years' difference in our ages lay between us like a chasm: these years would ever operate between us as a bridge.
and
ing,
light.
keeping?" he asked me.
it
born; and
made I
it
hard
my
catch
to
had heard the
first
breath, that
words he had
when he
took the
first
steps
he ever took
I
I
won-
was remember-
had been there when he was
1
e\'er
walk, he walked from our mother straight to me.
I
spoken.
When
caught him
just
he
started to
before he
fell
in this world.
"How's Isabel?" "Just fine. She's dying to see you."
6o
"And
the boys?"
"They're fine, too. They're anxious to see their uncle."
"Oh, come on. You know they don't remember me." "Are you kidding? Of course they remember you." He grinned again. We got into a taxi. We had a lot to say
65
too
much As the
He for
to
know how
taxi
began
each other,
far
still
asked,
I
remember
"You
still
want
that. Hell, no.
to
go
to India?"
This place
is
Indian enough
me." "It
used to belong
And he laughed they got rid of
Years ago,
70
move,
to
laughed. "You
to
to begin.
to
them,"
again.
I
said.
"They damn sure knew what they were doing when
it."
when he was around
of going to India.
He
fourteen, he'd been
all
hipped on the idea
read books about people sitting on rocks, naked, in
all
kinds of weather, but mostly bad, naturally, and walking barefoot through hot coals
and
arriving at
wisdom.
I
used
were getting away from wisdom
down on me for that. "Do you mind," he
On
the west side
—
I
to say that
it
sounded
as fast as they could.
asked, "if
we have
haven't seen the
I
to
me
as
though they
think he sort of looked
the driver drive alongside the park?
cit) in
so long."
"Of course not," I said. I was afraid that I might sound humoring him, but I hoped he wouldn't take it that way. So we drove along, between the green of the park and
as
though
streets
were
the stony, lifeless
elegance of hotels and apartment buildings, toward the vivid, killing
our childhood. These
I
streets of
hadn't changed, though housing projects jutted up
Sonny's Blues t 53
now like rocks in the middle of a boiling sea. Most of the houses in which we had grown up had vanished, as had the stores from which we had stolen, the basements in which we had first tried sex, the rooftops from which we had hurled tin cans and bricks. But houses exactly like the houses of our past yet dominated the landscape, boys exactly like the boys we once had been found out of them
came down into the streets for light and and found themselves encircled by disaster. Some escaped the trap, most didn't. Those who got out always left something of themselves behind, as some animals amputate a leg and leave it in the trap. It might be said, perhaps, that I had escaped, after all, I was a school teacher; or that Sonny had, he hadn't lived in Harlem for years. Yet, as the cab moved uptown through streets which seemed, with a rush, to darken with dark people, and as I covertly studied Sonthemselves smothering in these houses, air
ny's face,
it
came
to
me
that
what we both were seeking through our separate
cab windows was that part of ourselves which had been at the
left
behind,
ft's
always
hour of trouble and confrontation that the missing member aches.
We hit iioth avenue first
all
my
Street
life,
but
and started it seemed
rolling to
heard about Sonny's trouble,
very breath of
"We
me
filled
up Lenox Avenue. And I'd known this it had seemed on the day I'd with a hidden menace which was its
again, as
life.
almost there," said Sonny.
"Almost."
We
were both too nervous
75
to say
anything more.
We
live in a housing project. It hasn't been up long. A few days after it was seemed uninhabitably new, now, of course, it's already rundown. It looks like a parody of the good, clean, faceless life — God knows the people who live in it do their best to make it a parody. The beat-looking grass lying around isn't enough to make their lives green, the hedges will never hold out the streets, and they know it. The big windows fool no one, they aren't big enough to make space out of no space. They don't bother with the windows, they watch the TV screen instead. The playground is most popular with the children who don't play at jacks, or skip rope, or roller skate, or swing, and they can be found in it after dark. We moved in partly because it's not too far from where I teach, and partly for the kids; but it's really just like the houses in which Sonny and I grew up. The same things happen, they'll have the same things to remember. The moment Sonny and I started into the house I had the feeling that I was simply bringing him back into the danger he had almost died trying to escape. Sonny has never been talkative. So I don't know why I was sure he'd be dying to talk to me when supper was over the first night. Everything went fine, the oldest boy remembered him, and the youngest boy liked him, and Sonny had remembered to bring something for each of them; and Isabel, who is really much nicer than I am, more open and giving, had gone to a lot of trouble about dinner and was genuinely glad to see him. And she's always been able to tease Sonny in a way that I haven't. It was nice to see her face so vivid again and to hear her laugh and watch her make Sonny laugh. She wasn't, or, anyway, she didn't seem to be, at all uneasy or embarrassed. She chatted as though there were no subject which had to be avoided and she got Sonny past his first, faint
up
/
it
stiffness.
And thank God
she was there, for
I
was
filled
with that icy dread again.
54 T James Baldwin Everything
seemed awkward
did
I
freighted with hidden meaning.
about dope addiction and
doing
out of malice.
it
was dying
to
"Safe!"
him
hear
my
I
me, and everything
me
he was
to
I
out something about
my
I
Mama
suggested trying to
safer for children. "Safe, hell! Ain't
move
no place
to a
safe
nor nobody."
for kids,
always went on like
not even on weekends,
this,
when he
the lookout for "something a
but he wasn't, ever, really as bad as he sounded, got drunk. As a matter of fact, he was always on
little
better," but
fifteen.
He and Sonny
hadn't ever got on too well.
because Sonny was the apple of his
it. He when Sonny
he died before he found
died suddenly, during a drunken weekend in the middle of the war,
was
brother.
safe.
whenever
father grunted,
sounded
said
I
remember everything I'd heard help watching Sonny for signs. wasn't
tr\'ing to find
neighborhood which might be
He
to
was trying
couldn't
I
was
tell
I
father's eye.
It
And
this
was
partly
was because he loved Sonny
much and was
frightened for him, that he was always fighting with him. It do any good to fight with Sonny. Sonny just moves back, inside himself, where he can't be reached. But the principal reason that they never hit it off is that they were so much alike. Daddy was big and rough and loud-talking, just the opposite of Sonny, but they both had — that same privacy. Mama tried to tell me something about this, just after Daddy died. I was
so
doesn't
home on
leave from the army.
last time I ever saw my mother alive. Just the same, this picture mixed up in my mind with pictures I had of her when she was younger. ^^The way I always see her is the way she used to be on a Sunday afternoon, say, ^when the old folks were talking after the big Sunday dinner. I always see her wearing pale blue. She'd be sitting on the sofa. And my father would be sitting in the easy chair, not far from her. And the living room would be full of church folks and relatives. There they sit, in chairs all around the living room, and the
This was the
gets all
night
is
creeping up outside, but nobody knows
it
yet.
growing against the windowpanes and you hear the again, or
maybe
close by, but
it's
You can
see the darkness
street noises every
now and
the jangling beat of a tambourine from one of the churches real quiet in the
room. For a
every face looks darkening, like the sky outside.
moment nobody's talking, but And my mother rocks a little
and my father's eyes are closed. Everyone is looking at something For a minute they've forgotten the children. Maybe a kid is lying on the rug, half asleep. Maybe somebody's got a kid in his lap and is absent-mindedly stroking the kid's head. Maybe there's a kid, quiet and bigeyed, curled up in a big chair in the corner. The silence, the darkness coming, from the
waist,
a child can't see.
and the darkness in the faces frighten the child obscurely. He hopes that the hand which strokes his forehead will never stop— will never die. He hopes that there will never come a time when the old folks won't be sitting around the living room, talking about where they've come from, and what they've seen, and what's
happened
to
them and
their kinfolk.
But something deep and watchful end,
is
already ending. In a
in the child
moment someone
knows that this is bound to up and turn on the light.
will get
Sonny's Blues t 55
Then
remember
the old folks will
And when
that day.
knows
light
that every time this
fills
the children and they won't talk any
the room, the child
happens
he's
moved
is
more
with darkness.
filled
just a little closer to that
He
darkness
outside. The darkness outside is what the old folks have been talking about. It's what they've come from. It's what they endure. The child knows that they won't talk any more because if he knows too much about what's happened to them, he'll know too much too soon, about what's going to happen to him. last time I talked to my mother, I remember I was resdess. I wanted to and see Isabel. We weren't married then and we had a lot to straighten out between us. There Mama sat, in black, by the window. She was humming an old church song, Lord, you brought me from a long ways off. Sonny was out somewhere.
The
get out
Mama "I
But
kept watching the
streets.
don't know," she said, "if
hope
I
you'll
85
remember
I'll
ever see you again, after you go off from here.
the things
I
tried to teach you."
and smiled. 'Tou'll be here a long time yet." She smiled, too, but she said nothing. She was quiet for a long time. And I said, "Mama, don't you worry about nothing. I'll be writing all the time, and ." you be getting the checks. "I want to talk to you about your brother," she said, suddenly. "If anything "Don't
talk like that,"
said,
I
.
happens
me
to
"Mama," right.
he
ain't
going
said, "ain't
I
.
have nobody
to
to
look out for him."
nothing going to happen to you or Sonny. Sonny's
all
90
He's a good boy and he's got good sense."
"It ain't a
good sense.
question of his being a good boy,"
Mama
only the bad ones, nor yet the
ain't
It
"nor of his having
said,
dumb
ones that gets sucked
under." She stopped, looking at me. "Your Daddy once had a brother," she said, and she smiled in a way that made me feel she was in pain. 'Tou didn't never
know
that,
"No,"
"Oh,
I
did you?" said, "I
window
again. "I
through
all
I
never
knew
yes," she said, "your
that,"
and
I
watched her
Daddy had
a brother."
know you never saw your Daddy
cry.
face.
She looked out of the
But
J
did
— many a time,
these years."
asked her,
"What happened
to his brother?
How come nobody's
ever talked
about him?" This was the
first
time
I
ever saw
my
mother look
old.
"His brother got killed," she said, "when he was just a
95 little
younger than
knew him. He was a fine boy. He was maybe a little full of the mean nobody no harm." Then she stopped and the room was silent, exactly as it had sometimes been
you are now. devil,
I
but he didn't
on those Sunday afternoons.
"He used
Mama
kept looking out into the
streets.
young folks, he perform on Saturday nights. Saturday nights, him and your father around to different places, go to dances and things like that, or just to
have a job in the mill," she
said, "and, like all
just liked to
would
drift
around with people they knew, and your
father's brother would sing, he had and play along with himself on his guitar. Well, this particular Saturday night, him and your father was coming home from some place, and
sit
a fine voice,
James Baldwin
56
little drunk and there was a moon that night, it was bright like Your father's brother was feeling kind of good, and he was whistling to himself, and he had his guitar slung over his shoulder. They was coming down a hill and beneath them was a road that turned off from the highway. Well, your
thev were both a day.
father's brother,
being always kind of
firisky,
decided to run
down
this hill,
and
he did, with that guitar banging and clanging behind him, and he ran across the road, and he was making water behind a tree. And your father was sort of
amused
him and he was
at
coming down the
still
hill,
kind of slow.
Then he
heard a car motor and that same minute his brother stepped from behind the moonlight. And he started to cross the road. And your down the hill, he says he don't know why. This car was full of white men. They was all drimk, and when they seen your father's brother they let out a great whoop and holler and they aimed the car straight at him. They was having fun, they just wanted to scare him, the way they do sometimes, guess the boy, being drunk, too, and you know. But they was drunk. And tree, into the road, in the
father started to run
I
By the time he jumped
scared, kind of lost his head.
he heard
says
the
wood
of that guitar
stopped
till
this day.
when
men
he heard them white
it
was too
late.
Your
father
scream when the car rolled over him, and he heard
his brother
give,
it
and he heard them
strings
go
flying,
shouting, and the car kept on a-going and
And, time your father got down the
hill, his
it
and ain't
brother weren't
nothing but blood and pulp."
my
Tears were gleaming on
mother's face. There wasn't anything
could
I
say. 100
"He never mentioned before you children. Your
He
she said, "because
it,"
Daddy was
like a crazy
I
never
man
let
him mention
that night
and
for
it
many
he never in his life seen amihing as dark as that road had gone away. Weren't nothing, weren't nobody on your Daddy and his brother and that busted guitar. Oh, yes. Your
a night thereafter.
says
after the lights of that car
that road, just
Daddy never
did really get right again. Till the day he died he weren't sure but
man he saw was the man that killed his brother." She stopped and took out her handkerchief and dried her eyes and looked at me. "I ain't telling you all this," she said, "to make you scared or bitter or to make you hate nobody. I'm telling you this because you got a brother. And the world that everv' white
ain't I
changed." guess
I
didn't
want
to believe this.
turned away from me, toward the
"But
praise
before me.
keeps
me
my
Redeemer," she
ain't saying
I
from feeling too
through
this world.
man on
earth.
there 105
I
home
Your
it
to
guess she saw this in
said at last, "that
to
know
I
father always acted like
And everybody
took
him
to
my
face.
She
again, searching those streets.
throw no flowers
down
cast
I
window
be
He
called your
at myself, but,
I
Daddy
declare,
it
helped your father get safely
he was the roughest, strongest But if he hadn't had me
like that.
— to see his tears!"
She was crying didn't
know
it
was
again.
Still,
I
couldn't move.
I
said, "Lord,
Lord,
Mama,
I
like that."
"Oh, honey," she
said, "there's a lot that
you don't know. But you are going
Sonny's Blues t 57
She stood up from the window and came over
to find out."
hold on
your brother," she
to
looks like
is
going to be
said,
"and don't
let
him
me. "You got to no matter what it
to
fall,
to him and no matter how evil you gets with him. You him many a time. But don't you forget what I told you, you
happening with
evil
hear?"
won't forget,"
"I
happen
to
I
"Don't you worry,
said.
I
won't forget.
won't
I
nothing
let
Sonny."
My face.
mother smiled as though she was amused at something she saw in my Then, 'Tou may not be able to stop nothing from happening. But you got
him know
to let
you's there."
Two days later I was married, and then was gone. And had a lot of things on my mind and pretty well forgot my promise to Mama until got shipped home on a special furlough for her funeral. And, after the funeral, with just Sonny and me alone in the empty kitchen, I
I
I
I
tried to find out
I
no
something about him.
"What do you want
to
do?"
asked him.
I
"I'm going to be a musician," he said.
For he had graduated, juke box to finding out it,
time
in the
who was
and he had bought himself a
set of
"You mean, you want to be being a drummer might be all
I
had been away, from dancing
to the
playing what, and what they were doing with
a
drums.
drummer?"
I
somehow had
the feeling that
right for other people but not for
my
brother
Sonny. don't think," he said, looking at
"I
drummer. But I
frowned.
before,
think
I
I'd
I
can play
So
He "Be
He
I
made my frown
to
I'll
ever be a good
I
a
Sonny
didn't really little
be?"
grinned.
"How many
serious,"
I
kinds do you think there are?"
said.
laughed, throwing his head back, and then looked at me.
"I
am
serious."
"Well, then, for Christ's sake, stop kidding around and answer a serious ques-
mean, do you want to be a concert pianist, you want to play classical music and all that, or— or what?" Long before I finished he was laughing again.
tion.
I
"For Christ's sake, Sonny!"
He he was
115
a damn thing. I sensed myself in know how to handle, didn't underdeeper as I asked: "What kind of musician do
ever, in fact, asked
the presence of something stand.
very gravely, "that
never played the role of the oldest brother quite so seriously
had scarcely
you want
me
a piano."
sobered, but with difficulty. "I'm sorry. But you sound
so— scared!" and
off again.
"Well, you may think it's funny now, baby, but it's not going to be so funny when you have to make your living at it, let me tell you that." I was furious because I knew he was laughing at me and I didn't know why.
"No," he
said, very
sober now, and afraid, perhaps, that he'd hurt me,
don't want to be a classical pianist. That
paused, looking hard
and then gestured
at
me,
as
helplessly, as
though
isn't
what
his eyes
though perhaps
interests
me.
I
"I
mean" — he
would help me to understand, hand would help —"I mean.
his
120
James Baldwin
58
have a
I'll
want
lot
to play
of studying to do, and
vvif/j
— jazz
musicians."
I'll
have to study everything, but,
He
stopped.
want
"I
Well, the word had never before sounded as heavy, as afternoon in Sonny's mouth.
frown by
real
this time.
I
I
just
real, as
it
mean,
I
to play jazz,"
he
I
said.
sounded
that
him and I was probably frowning a see why on earth he'd want to spend
looked
at
simply couldn't
time hanging around nightclubs, clowning around on bandstands, while
his
people pushed each other around a dance
somehow. suppose
floor.
It
seemed— beneath him,
had never thought about it before, had never been forced to, but had always put jazz musicians in a class with what Daddy called I
I
I
"good-time people." "Are you serious?"
125
"Hell, yes, I'm serious."
He
looked more helpless than ever, and annoyed, and deeply hurt.
suggested, helpfully: "You
I
His face closed as though that old-time,
down home
mean — like
I'd
Louis Armstrong?"
struck him. "No. I'm not talking about
"Well, look. Sonny, I'm sorry, don't get mad.
130
that's all.
none of
crap."
Name somebody— you
know,
a jazz
I
just don't altogether get
it,
musician you admire."
"Bird."
"Who?" "Bird! Charlie Parker! ' Don't they teach lit
I
a cigarette.
was trembling.
"I've
me. Now. Who's
you nothing
was surprised and then
I
been out of touch,"
I
a
little
in the
amused
said. 'Tou'll
have
goddamn army?" to discover that
I
be patient with
to
Parker character?"
this
"He's just one of the greatest jazz musicians alive," said Sonny, sullenly, his
135
hands
in his pockets, his
"that's
probably
"All right,"
I
said,
records right away, "It don't," said
what you
to
me. "Maybe the
greatest,"
he added,
bitterly,
of him."
"I'm ignorant. I'm sorry.
go out and buy
I'll
all
the cat's
all right?"
Sonny, with
Don't do
listen to.
was beginning
I
back
why you never heard
dignit)',
me
no
to realize that I'd
my mind
"make any
difference to me.
I
don't care
favors."
never seen him so upset before. With
this would probably turn out to be one of those things kids go through and that I shouldn't make it seem important by pushing it too hard. Still, I didn't think it would do any harm to ask: "Doesn't
another part of
all this
He
take a lot of time?
I
was thinking that
Can you make
a living at it?"
me
and half leaned, half sat, on the kitchen table. "Everything takes time," he said, "and — well, yes, sure, I can make a living at it. But what I don't seem to be able to make you understand is that it's the only thing I want
turned back to
to do."
"Well, Sonny,"
140
they want to do
3.
I
said gently, "you
know people
can't always
do exactly what
—"
Charlie ("Bird") Parker (1920-1955), brilliant saxophonist and innovator of jazz; working in
York bop."
in the mid-i940s,
He was
he developed, with Dizzy Gillespie and others, the
a narcotics addict.
style
New
of jazz called "be-
Sonny's Blues t 59 "No,
I
know
don't
do what they want
"You getting
Sonny, surprising me.
that," said
to do,
what
be a big boy,"
to
think people ought to
"I
else are they alive for?" I
said desperately,
"it's
time you started think-
ing about your future."
my
"I'm thinking about
future," said Sonny, grimly. "I think about
the
all
it
time." I
gave up.
about
it
decided,
I
later.
if
he didn't change
"In the meantime,"
already decided that he'd have to
move
his
mind, that we could always
talk
We
had
"you got to finish school."
said,
I
in with Isabel
and her
knew
this
dicty"*
and
know what
else
folks.
I
wasn't the ideal arrangement because Isabel's folks are inclined to be
they hadn't especially wanted Isabel to marry me. But
I
didn't
"And we have to get you fixed up at Isabel's." There was a long silence. He moved from the kitchen
to do.
"That's a terrible idea.
You know
table to the
window.
145
yourself."
it
"Do you have a better idea?" He just walked up and down the kitchen for a minute. He was as tall as I was. He had started to shave. I suddenly had the feeling that I didn't know him at all.
He
stopped at the kitchen table and picked up
with a kind of mocking,
amused
my
cigarettes.
Looking
defiance, he put one between his
me
at
lips.
"You
mind?" "You smoking already?" He lit the cigarette and nodded, watching me through the smoke. "I just wanted to see if I'd have the courage to smoke in front of you." He grinned and blew
a great
"Come I
150
"It was easy." He looked at my face. my age, tell the truth." on my face, and he laughed. But now
cloud of smoke to the ceiling.
on, now.
I
bet you was smoking at
was
didn't say anything but the truth
there was something very strained in his laugh. "Sure.
And
I
bet that ain't
all
you was doing."
He was that
me
frightening
you was going
to
a
little.
go and
"Cut the
crap,"
live at Isabel's.
Now
I
said.
"We
already decided
what's got into you
all
of a
sudden?" it," he pointed out. "/ didn't decide nothing." He stopped in me, leaning against the stove, arms loosely folded. "Look, brother. I don't want to stay in Harlem no more, I really don't." He was very earnest. He looked at me, then over toward the kitchen window. There was something in
"You decided
front of
his eyes I'd never seen before,
some thoughtfulness, some worry
rubbed the muscle of one arm.
"Where do you want "I
want
they'll believe
Then goddamn
I
time
I
all
his
own.
He
was getting out of here."
Sonny?"
Or
the navy,
I
don't care.
If
I
say I'm old
enough,
me."
mad.
got
was because
It
what the
fool,
"I just told
4.
to go,
to join the army.
"It's
you.
Snobbish, bossy.
To
hell
I
was so scared. "You must be crazy. You
do you want
to
get out of Harlem."
go and join the army for?"
155
James Baldwin
60
And
"Sonn\', )ou haven't even finished school.
musician, how do you expect
160
you
if
to stud\ if you're in the
want
reall\
be a
to
army?"
He looked at me, trapped, and in anguish. "There's ways. I might be able to work out some kind of deal. Anyway, I'll have the G.I. Bill when 1 come out." "If you come out." We stared at each other. "Sonny, please. Be reasonable. I
know
the setup
me
from
far
But we got
perfect.
me and opened
away from narrow
is
alle)'.
watched
I
to learn."
"Sonny,"
I
to
window and threw
the
his back. "At least,
He slammed
and turned back
the
window
me. "And I'm
"And \ou only got another
year.
we I
can."
go."
He
turned
his cigarette out into the
nothing you'd want
thought the glass would
I
fl\'
out,
sick of the stink of these garbage cans!"
know how you
said, "I
best
when
ain't learning
I
so hard
feel.
But
you're going to be sorry later that you didn't."
I'll
do the
to
learning nothing in school," he said. "Even
"I ain't
ain't so bad.
It
help you do whatever \ou want to do. Just
you don't
if
now,
finish school
grabbed him by the shoulders.
I
And tr\'
I'll
to
come back and
put up with
it
till
I
swear
I
come
me?" and he wouldn't look at me. "Sonny. You hear me?" He pulled away. "I hear vou. But \ou ne\ er hear anything J say." I didn't know what to say to that. He looked out of the w indow and then back at me. "OK," he said, and sighed. "I'll try." Then I said, trying to cheer him up a little, "They got a piano at Isabel's. You can practice on it." And as a matter of fact, it did cheer him up for a minute. "That's right," back. Will you please do that? For
He
165
didn't answer
he said
His face relaxed a
to himself. "I forgot that."
thoughtfulness, played on into the
it still,
way shadows
the
pla\
little.
on
But the worr\, the
a face
w hich
is
staring
fire.
But I thought I'd never hear the end of that piano. At first, Isabel would write me, saying how nice it was that Sonn\' was so serious about his music and how, as soon as he came in from school, or wherever he had been when he was supposed
to
be
at school,
he went
straight to that
piano and staved there until
suppertime. And, after supper, he went back to that piano and stayed there until
everybody went
to bed.
Then he bought
He was
record over and over again,
with
it
at the
a record player all
piano
and
all
day Saturday and
started playing records.
all
day Sunday.
He'd
pla\'
one
day long sometimes, and he'd improvise along
on the piano. Or he'd plav one section of the record, one chord, one it on the piano. Then back to the record.
change, one progression, then he'd do
Then back Well,
170
to the piano.
realK don't
I
know how
wasn't like living with a person at
sound didn't make any sense naturalK. in their
moved ate,
They began,
home. in
It
was
all, it
was
to her, didn't
in a wav, to
as
they stood
be
it.
Isabel finally confessed that
like living
make am
afflicted b\ this
though Sonny w ere some
an atmosphere which wasn't
he washed himself, he walked
in
sense to any of
And
it
the
them —
presence that was living
sort of god, or monster.
like theirs at all.
and out of
with sound.
They
their door;
fed
He
him and he
he certainlv wasn't
Sonny's Blues t 61
Sonny isn't any of those things; but it was as though wrapped up in some cloud, some fire, some vision all his own; and there wasn't any way to reach him. At the same time, he wasn't really a man yet, he was still a child, and they had to watch out for him in all kinds of ways. They certainly couldn't throw him nasty or unpleasant or rude,
he were
all
out. Neither did they dare to
they dimly sensed, as
Sonny was
at that
I
make
a great scene about that piano because even
many thousands
sensed, from so
piano playing
of miles away, that
for his life.
But he hadn't been going to school. One day a letter came from the school Isabel's mother got it— there had, apparently, been other letters but Sonny had torn them up. This day, when Sonny came in, Isabel's mother
board and
and asked where he'd been spending his time. And she that he'd been down in Greenwich Village, with musicians and other characters, in a white girl's apartment. And this scared her and she started to scream at him and what came up, once she began— though she denies it to this day— was what sacrifices they were making to give Sonny a
showed him the finally got
decent
it
letter
out of
him
home and how
Sonny
little
he appreciated
didn't play the piano that day.
down but then
there was the old
man
it.
By evening,
to deal with,
Isabel's
and
mother had calmed
Isabel herself Isabel says
down and started crying. She says she She could tell, by watching him, what was happening with him. And what was happening was that they penetrated his cloud, they had reached him. Even if their fingers had been a thousand times more gentle than human fingers ever are, he could hardly help feeling that they had stripped him naked and were spitting on that nakedness. For he also had to see that his presence, that music, which was life or death to him, had been torture for them and that they had endured it, not at all for his sake, but only for mine. And Sonny couldn't take that. He can take it a little better today than he could then but he's still not very good at it and, frankly, I don't know anybody who is. The silence of the next few days must have been louder than the sound of all the music ever played since time began. One morning, before she went to work, Isabel was in his room for something and she suddenly realized that all of his records were gone. And she knew for certain that he was gone. And he was. He went as far as the navy would carry him. He finally sent me a postcard from some place in Greece and that was the first I knew that Sonny was still alive. I didn't see him any more until we were both back in New York and the war had long been over. she did her best to be calm but she broke just
watched Sonny's
He was
a
man
face.
by then, of course, but
the house from time to time, but like the
way he
like his friends, It
sounded
carried himself, loose
and
just that
his
I
wasn't willing to see
we fought almost
music seemed
every time
and dreamlike to
all
it.
we
the time,
be merely an excuse
He came by met.
I
didn't
and
I
didn't
for the life
he
led.
weird and disordered.
Then we had a fight, a pretty awful fight, and I didn't see him for months. By and by I looked him up, where he was living, in a furnished room in the Village, and I tried to make it up. But there were lots of other people in the room and Sonny just lay on his bed, and he wouldn't come downstairs with me.
175
James Baldwin
62
and he treated these other people as though they were his family and I weren't. So got mad and then he got mad, and then I told him that he might just as well be dead as li\e the way he was living. Then he stood up and he told me not to worn,- about him any more in life, that he was dead as far as I was concerned. Then he pushed me to the door and the other people looked on as though nothing were happening, and he slammed the door behind me. I stood I
in the hallway, staring at the door.
then the tears crying,
I
came
to
mv
eyes.
I
heard somebody laugh
started
I
down
kept whistling to mvself. You going
in the
room and
the steps, whistling to keep from
to
need me. baby, one of these cold,
rainy days.
read about Sonny's trouble in the spring. Little Grace died in the
I
was
a beautiful
She had
polio and she suffered.
seem
But she only
little girl.
and we
like an\i:hing
lived a
couple of days, but
a slight fever for a
kept her in bed.
just
She
fall.
over two years. She died of
little
And we would
didn't
it
certainlv ha\e
seemed to be all right. So we Then, one day, she was up, pla\ ing, Isabel was the two boys when they'd come in from school,
called the doctor, but the fe\er dropped, she
thought
it
had
just
been
in the kitchen fixing
a cold.
lunch
and she heard Grace
fall
children you don't always
for
down
in the living
screaming or something. And,
this time,
when she heard that thump and then to make her afraid. And she ran to the the floor,
all
twisted up,
couldn't get her breath. says, that she'd ever
When
room.
running when one of them
start
vou have
falls,
something happened
that silence, living
room and
heard in
she did scream,
her
all
life,
dreams. Isabel will sometimes wake
start
Gracie was quiet. Yet, Isabel sa\s that there was
little
and the reason she hadn't screamed was
And when
a lot of
unless thev
and she
me up
to
her
Grace on that she
was the worst sound, Isabel
it
still
with a
hears
it
sometimes
in her
moaning, strangling
lov\,
awaken her and hold her to me and where a mortal wound. I think I may have written Sonny the very day that little Grace was buried. I was sitting in the living room in the dark, bv mvself, and I suddenlv thought of sound and Isabel
is
My
Sonny.
One been
I
in
have
to
be quick
weeping against
trouble
made
me
to
seems
his real.
Saturda\- afternoon,
when Sonny had been
our house, for nearly hvo weeks,
I
li\ing with us, or anx-way,
found myself wandering aimlessly
work up courI was home, and Isabel had taken the children to see their grandparents. Suddenly I was standing still in front of the living room window, watching Seventh Avenue. about the living room, drinking from a can of beer, and tnting
He was
age to search Sonny's room.
The
idea of searching Sonnv's
myself what
I'd
be searching
out,
room made me
for.
I
didn't
to
he was usually out whenever
still.
I
know what
scarcely dared to admit to I'd
do
if
I
found
it.
Or
if
I
didn't.
On
180
the sidewalk across from me, near the entrance to a barbecue joint,
people were holding an old-fashioned revival meeting.
wearing a sun,
5.
and a
dirt\
The barbecue
some cook,
white apron, his conked' hair reddish and metallic in the pale
cigarette bet\\een his lips, stood in the doorwav,
Processed: straightened and greased.
watching them. Kids
Sonny's Blues t 63 and older people paused in their errands and stood there, along with some older men and a couple of very tough-looking women who watched everything that happened on the avenue, as though they owned it, or were maybe owned by it. Well, they were watching this, too. The revival was being carried on by three sisters in black, and a brother. All they had were their voices and their Bibles and a tambourine. The brother was testifying^ and while he testified two of the sisters stood together, seeming to say, amen, and the third sister walked around with the tambourine outstretched and a couple of people dropped coins into it.
Then
the brother's testimony ended and the sister
collection
dumped
the coins into her
palm and
who had been
taking
up the
them
to the
pocket
transferred
Then she raised both hands, striking the tambourine and then against one hand, and she started to sing. And the two other sisters and the brother joined in. It was strange, suddenly, to watch, though I had been seeing these meetings all my life. So, of course, had everybody else down there. Yet, they paused and of her long black robe.
against the
air,
watched and listened and they sang, and the rescued
sister
I
stood
still
at the
window.
"
Tis the old ship ofZion,"
with the tambourine kept a steady, jangling beat,
many a thousand!" Not
a soul
"it
has
under the sound of their voices was hear-
first time, not one of them had been rescued. Nor had they way of rescue work being done around them. Neither did they especially believe in the holiness of the three sisters and the brother, they knew too much about them, knew where they lived, and how. The woman with the tambourine, whose voice dominated the air, whose face was bright with joy, was
ing this song for the
seen
much
in the
divided by very little from the woman who stood watching her, a cigarette between her heavy, chapped lips, her hair a cuckoo's nest, her face scarred and swollen from many beatings, and her black eyes glittering like coal. Perhaps they
both knew
this,
which was why, when,
addressed each other as
Sister.
as rarely, they
As the singing
addressed each other, they the air the watching,
filled
lis-
tening faces underwent a change, the eyes focusing on something within; the
music seemed away from the
to soothe a poison out of
them; and time seemed, nearly,
sullen, belligerent, battered faces, as
to fall
though they were fleeing
last. The barbecue cook and dropped his cigarette and disappeared into his joint. A man fumbled in his pockets for change and stood holding it in his hand impatiently, as though he had just remembered a pressing appointment further up the avenue. He looked furious. Then I saw Sonny, standing on the edge of the crowd. He was carrying a wide, flat notebook with a green cover, and it made him look, from where I was standing, almost like a schoolboy. The coppery sun brought out the copper in his skin, he was very faintly smiling,
back
to their first condition,
while dreaming of their
half shook his head and smiled,
Then the singing stopped, the tambourine turned into a colThe furious man dropped in his coins and vanished, so did a couple of the women, and Sonny dropped some change in the plate, looking direcriy at the woman with a little smile. He started across the avenue, toward the house. He has a slow, loping walk, something like the way Harlem hipsters standing very
still.
lection plate again.
6.
Publicly professing belief.
'
James Baldwin
64
own
walk, only he's imposed on this his
half-beat.
had never
I
really noticed
it
before.
window, both relieved and apprehensive. As Sonny disapthey began singing again. And they were still singing
stayed at the
I
my
peared from
when
sight,
key turned
his
"Hey," he
in the lock.
said.
"Hey, yourself. You want some beer?"
"No. Well, maybe." But he came up
185
looking out.
"What
They were .
').'
"Yes,"
stood beside me,
my mother
pray again!
"and she can sure beat that tambourine.
terrible song," he said, and laughed. He dropped his notebook and disappeared into the kitchen. "WTiere's Isabel and the kids?" "I think they went to see their grandparents. You hungr)?" "No." He came back into the living room with his can of beer. "You want to
He
through
it.
tonight?"
know how,
don't
I
down on
sat
me
place with
sensed,
I
"I'm going to
"That's right."
me
gave
"I'll try,"
He
that
sit
couldn't possibly say no. "Sure. Where?"
He
some
in with
up
his
notebook and
started leafing
fellows in a joint in the Village."
to play, tonight?"
moved back
took a swallow of his beer and
a sidelong look. "If I
I
the sofa and picked
"You mean, you're going
195
window and
sofa
come some
He
to the
said.
"But what a
on the
190
he
voice,"
singing If I could only hear
said,
I
warm
a
you can stand
to the
window.
it."
said.
we both watched as the meeting across the way and the brother, heads bowed, were singing God be with you till we meet again. The faces around them were verv' quiet. Then the song ended. The small crowd dispersed. We watched the three women and the smiled
to
The
broke up.
himself and
three sisters
man walk slowly up the avenue. "When she was singing before," said
lone
me
Sonny, abruptly, "her voice reminded
minute of what heroin feels like sometimes— when it's in your veins. — It makes you feel sort of warm and cool at the same time. And distant. And and sure." He sipped his beer, very deliberately not looking at me. I watched his for a
face. "It
makes you
"Do you?"
feel
— in control.
Sometimes you've got
down slowly in the easy chair. "Sometimes." He went to the sofa and picked up
to
have that feeling."
sat
I
his
notebook again. "Some
people do." "In order,"
200
I
asked, "to play?"
And my
voice was
verv- ugly, full
of contempt
and anger.
— he
"Well"
hoped so.
his eyes
And
if
looked
would
at
tell
they think so
—
me with great, troubled eyes, as though, in fact, he me things he could never otherwise say— "they think !"
"And what do you think?" I He sat on the sofa and put said,
and
I
couldn't be sure
thoughts. His face didn't
tell
if
asked. his
can of beer on the
he were answering
me.
"It's
not so
much
my
floor. "I
don't know," he
question or pursuing his
to play.
It's
to
stand
it,
to
be
Sonny's Blues t 65 able to
make
it
from shaking
at all.
On
any
level."
"But these friends of yours,"
goddamn
pretty
my
smiled: "In order to keep
I
said, "they
seem
to
shake themselves to pieces
fast."
He
"Maybe." curb
He frowned and
to pieces."
played with the notebook.
And something told me
tongue, that Sonny was doing his best to
of course you only
know
I
that
should
I
should
listen.
205
"But
Some don't— or at least say." He paused. "And in hell, and they know it and they see don't know." He sighed, dropped the
the ones that've gone to pieces.
they haven't yet and that's just about
then there are some
talk, that
who
all
just live, really,
what's happening and they go right on.
I
any of us can
"Some guys, you can tell from the way they play, time. And you can see that, well, it makes something
notebook, folded his arms. they on something all the
real for them. But of course," he picked up his beer from the floor and sipped it and put the can down again, "they want to, too, you've got to see that. Even some of them that say they don't— some, not all." "And what about you?" I asked — I couldn't help it. "What about you? Do you want to?" He stood up and walked to the window and I remained silent for a long time. Then he sighed. "Me," he said. Then: "While I was downstairs before, on my way here, listening to that woman sing, it struck me all of a sudden how much suffering she must have had to go through — to sing like that. It's repulsive to think you have to suffer that much." I said: "But there's no way not to suffer — is there. Sonny?" "I believe not," he said and smiled, "but that's never stopped anyone from trying." He looked at me. "Has it?" I realized, with this mocking look, that there stood between us, forever, beyond the power of time or forgiveness, the fact that I had held silence— so long!— when he had needed human speech to help him. He turned back to the window. "No, there's no way not to suffer. But you try all kinds of ways to keep from drowning in it, to keep on top of it, and to make it seem — well, like you. Like you did something, all right, and now you're suffering for it. You know?" I said nothing. "Well you know," he said, impatiently, "why do people suffer? Maybe it's better to do something to give it a reason, any
reason."
"But we then, just
just agreed,"
to— take
"But nobody body
tries
not
said, "that there's
I
just takes
to.
no way not
to suffer. Isn't
it
better,
it?"
You're
Sonny cried, "that's what I'm telling you! Everyhung up on the way some people try— it's not your
it,"
just
way!"
The "that's
hair
they suffer.
me," "I
I
to itch, my face felt wet. "That's not true," said, damn what other people do, I don't even care how just care how you suffer." And he looked at me. "Please believe "I don't want to see you— die — trying not to suffer."
on
not true.
said,
my
I
face
I
I
won't," he said
anybody
began
don't give a
flafly,
"die trying not to suffer. At least, not any faster than
else."
"But there's no need,"
I
said, trying to laugh, "is there? in killing yourself."
210
66 T James Baldwin 215
wanted
I
how
more, but
to say
could be
life
couldn't.
I
— well, beautiful.
I
wanted
I
wanted
rather, wasn't that exactly the trouble?
it? or,
would never
him
fail
again. But
would
it
all
about
to talk
to say that
And
it
was
wanted
I
have sounded
power and
v\ill
within; but was
all
to
promise that
— empty
I
words and
lies.
So
made
I
the promise to myself and prayed that
sometimes, inside," he
terrible
"It's
I
would keep
it.
said, "that's what's the trouble.
You walk
and cold, and there's not really a living ass to talk to, and there's nothing shaking, and there's no way of getting it out— that storm inside. You can't talk it and you can't make love with it, and when you finally try to get with it and play it, you realize nobody's listening. So you've got to listen. these streets, black and funky
You got to find a way to listen." And then he walked away from though
all
window and
the
on the
sat
sofa again, as
the wind had suddenly been knocked out of him. "Sometimes you'll
do anything to play, even cut your mother's throat." He laughed and looked at me. "Or your brother's." Then he sobered. "Or your own." Then: "Don't worr)'. I'm all right now and I think I'll be all right. But I can't forget— where I've been. I don't mean just the physical place I've been, I mean where I've been. And what
I've
been."
"What have you been. Sonny?"
He
220
smiled
— but sat sideways
asked.
I
on the
sofa, his
elbow
resting
on the back,
his
mouth and chin, not looking at me. "I've been somerecognize, didn't know I could be. Didn't know anybody could
fingers playing with his
thing be."
didn't
I
He
stopped, looking inward, looking helplessly young, looking old. "I'm not
talking about
be better
if
I
now because
it
did,
now he
not to anybody," and it
was actually when
with
me,
it,
I
I
I
anything
I
don't
like
that— maybe
can't really talk about
them — it was
it
was empt)'; he rolled fix,
needed
couldn't find
felt that
I
was
I
didn't really have to play,
I
know how
I
between
his palms:
it,
It
and
I
— went crazy,
I
I
"
He
would to \ou,
in
Or
it
that
was
now, but
I
wasn't that
I
it
needed
I
to clear a space to listen
did terrible things to me,
it
I
came out of
"And other times — well,
needed
he played with
it,
just
picked up the beer can;
pressing the beer can between his hands, glittered, as
it
played, thinking about
that they weren't real.
to find a place to lean,
He began
begin to give.
it
it
Not
it.
turned and faced me. "Sometimes, you know, and
could play or
a
me."
I
did awful things, those times, sometimes, to people.
did anything to
I
feel guilty or
was most out of the world,
was there. And
it
know
and
really,
I
don't know. Anyway,
I
like a knife,
I
I
was
— and
I
terrible for
watched the metal I was afraid he
and
would cut himself, but said nothing. "Oh well. I can never tell you. was all by myself at the bottom of something, stinking and sweating and cr\ ing and shaking, and I smelled it, you know? my stink, and I thought I'd die if couldn't get away from it and yet, all the same, I knew that ever\ihing I was doing was just locking me in with it. And I didn't know," he paused, still flattening the beer can, "I didn't know, still don't know, something kept telling me that I
I
I
I
maybe I'd
it
been
own
was good
to smell
tr\'ing to
do — and — who can stand
ruined beer can, looking at
your
me
stink,
but
with a small,
I
it?" still
didn't think that that was u hat
and he abruptly dropped the smile, and then rose, walking
67
Sonny's Blues
window
to the
though
as
were the lodestone rock.
it
I
watched
he
his face,
you when Mama died — but the reason I wanted to leave Harlem so bad was to get away from drugs. And then, when I ran away, that's what I was running from — really. When I came back, nothing had changed, J hadn't changed, I was just— older." And he stopped, drumming watched the avenue.
"I
couldn't
tell
The sun had vanished, soon
with his fingers on the windowpane. fall. I
watched
can come again," he
his face. "It
Then he turned know that."
to himself.
you
to
"All right,"
He
I
said, at last.
I
said. "I
my
'Tes,"
repeated, "yes.
I
it
I
darkness would
almost as though speaking
can come again," he repeated.
"It
can come again. All "I
had
"I just
want
right."
to try to tell you,"
he
said.
that."
brother," he said, looking straight at
understand
me, and not smiling
at all.
that."
225
window, looking out. "All that hatred down there," he hatred and miser}' and love. It's a wonder it doesn't blow the
turned back
said, "all that
We
"So
understand
"You're
avenue
me.
smiled, but the smile was sorrowful.
'Tes,"
He
to
said,
to the
apart."
went
to the
only nightclub on a short, dark
downtown.
street,
squeezed through the narrow, chattering, jampacked bar
to the
We
entrance of the
And we stood there for a moment, for the room and we couldn't see. Then, "Hello, boy," said the voice and an enormous black man, much older than Sonny or myself, erupted out of all that atmospheric lighting and put an arm around Sonny's big room, where the bandstand was. lights
were very dim
been
in this
he said, "waiting for you." and heads in the darkness turned toward us. Sonny grinned and pulled a little away, and said, "Creole, this is my brother. I told you about him." Creole shook my hand. "I'm glad to meet you, son," he said, and it was clear that he was glad to meet me there, for Sonny's sake. And he smiled, 'Tou got a real musician in your family," and he took his arm from Sonny's shoulder and shoulder.
"I
He had
slapped him, "Well. cian,
and
lightly, affectionately,
Now I've
heard
it
all,"
with the back of his hand.
said a voice
behind
us.
This was another musi-
man, built close to me, at the top of his lungs, the teeth gleaming like a lighthouse and his
a friend of Sonny's, a coal-black, cheerful-looking
the ground.
most
sitting right here,"
a big voice, too,
He
immediately began confiding
terrible things
about Sonny, his
laugh coming up out of him out that everyone
at the
bar
like the
to
beginning of an earthquake.
knew Sonny,
or almost ever\one;
And
it
turned
some were musi-
working there, or nearby, or not working, some were simply hangers-on, and som.e were there to hear Sonny play. I was introduced to all of them and they were all very polite to me. Yet, it was clear that, for them, I was only Sonny's cians,
brother. Here,
I
was in Sonny's world. Or,
rather: his
kingdom. Here,
it
was not
even a question that his veins bore royal blood.
They were going to play soon and Creole installed me, bv myself, at a table Then I watched them, Creole, and the little black man, and
in a dark corner.
Sonny, and the others, while they horsed around, standing
just
below the band-
230
James Baldwin
68 stand.
ing
The
light
from the bandstand
them laughing and
nevertheless, were being
suddenly; that
if
they
spilled just a
gesturing and
most careful not
moved
little
moving about,
I
short of them and, watch-
had the feeling that they,
to step into that circle of light too
into the light too suddenly, without thinking, they
would perish in flame. Then, while I watched, one of them, the small black man, moved into the light and crossed the bandstand and started fooling around with his drums. Then — being funny and being, also, extremely ceremonious — Creole took Sonny by the arm and led him to the piano. A woman's voice called Sonny's name and a few hands started clapping. And Sonny, also being funny and being ceremonious, and so touched, I think, that he could have cried, but neither hiding it nor showing it, riding it like a man, grinned, and put both hands to his heart and bowed from the waist. Creole then went to the bass fiddle and a lean, ver)' bright-skinned brown man jumped up on the bandstand and picked up his horn. So there they were, and the atmosphere on the bandstand and in the room began to change and tighten. Someone stepped up to the microphone and announced them. Then there were all kinds of murmurs. Some people at the bar shushed others. The waitress ran around, frantically getting in the last orders, guys and chicks got closer to each other, and the lights on the bandstand, on the quartet, turned to a kind of indigo. Then they all looked different there. Creole looked about him for the last time, as though he were making certain that all his chickens were in the coop, and then he — jumped and struck the fiddle. And there they were. All I know about music is that not many people ever really hear it. And even then, on the rare occasions when something opens within, and the music enters, what we mainly hear, or hear corroborated, are personal, private, vanishing evocations. But the man who creates the music is hearing something else, is dealing with the roar rising from the void and imposing order on it as it hits the air. What is evoked in him, then, is of another order, more terrible because it has no words, and triumphant, too, for that same reason. And his triumph, when he triumphs, is ours. I just watched Sonny's face. His face was troubled, he was working hard, but he wasn't with it. And I had the feeling that, in a way, everyone on the bandstand was waiting for him, both waiting for him and pushing him along. But as I began to watch Creole, I realized that it was Creole who held them all back. He had them on a short rein. Up there, keeping the beat with his whole body, wailing on the fiddle, with his eyes half closed, he was listening to everything, but
with Sonny.
to
Sonny.
to leave the shoreline
He was and
having
strike
a
dialogue
out for the deep
He was Sonny's witness that deep water and drowning were not the same thing— he had been there, and he knew. And he wanted Sonny to know. He was waiting for Sonny to do the things on the keys which would let Creole know that Sonny was in the water. And, while Creole listened. Sonny moved, deep within, exacdy like someone in torment. I had never before thought of how awful the relationship must be between the musician and his instrument. He has to fill it, this instrument, with the breath of life, his own. He has to make it do what he wants it to do. And a piano is just a piano. It's made out of so much wood and wires and little hamwater.
235
he was listening
He wanted Sonny
Sonny's Blues
69
ivory. While there's only so much you can do with it, way to find this out is to try; to try and make it do everything. And Sonny hadn't been near a piano for over a year. And he wasn't on much better terms with his life, not the life that stretched before him now. He and the piano stammered, started one way, got scared, stopped; started another way, panicked, marked time, started again; then seemed to have found a direction, panicked again, got stuck. And the face I saw on Sonny I'd never seen before. Everything had been burned out of it, and, at the same time, things usually hidden were being burned in, by the fire and fury of the battle which was occurring in him up there. Yet, watching Creole's face as they neared the end of the first set, I had the feeling that something had happened, something I hadn't heard. Then they finished, there was scattered applause, and then, without an instant's warning, Creole started into something else, it was almost sardonic, it was Am I Blue7 And, as though he commanded. Sonny began to play. Something began to hap-
mers and big ones, and
the only
And Creole let out the reins. The dry, low, black man said something awful on the drums, Creole answered, and the drums talked back. Then the horn insisted, sweet and high, slightly detached perhaps, and Creole listened, commenting now and then, dry, and driving, beautiful and calm and old. Then they all came together again, and Sonny was part of the family again. I could tell this pen.
from
his face.
He seemed
brand-new piano.
It
to
seemed
have found, right there beneath that
he couldn't get over
it.
his fingers, a
Then,
damn
for a while, just
being happy with Sonny, they seemed to be agreeing with him that brand-new pianos certainly were a gas.
Then Creole stepped forward to remind them that what they were playing He hit something in all of them, he hit something in me, myself,
was the blues.
and the music tightened and deepened, apprehension began to beat the air. Creole began to tell us what the blues were all about. They were not about anything very new. He and his boys up there were keeping it new, at the risk of ruin, destruction, madness, and death, in order to find iiew ways to rriake_us listen.
For, while the tale of
we may triumph tale to tell,
And strings,
it's
is
how we
never new,
it
suffer,
the only light we've got in
this tale,
and how we are delighted, and how
always must be heard. There all this
any other
according to that face, that body, those strong hands on those
has another aspect in every country, and a
tion. Listen,
isn't
darkness.
Creole seemed
to
be saying,
listen.
new depth
Now
in every genera-
these are Sonny's blues.
He made the little black man on the drums know it, and the bright, brown man on the horn. Creole wasn't trying any longer to get Sonny in the water. He was wishing him Codspeed. Then he stepped back, very slowly, filling the air with immense suggestion that Sonny speak for himself. Then they all gathered around Sonny and Sonny played. Every now and again one of them seemed to say, amen. Sonny's fingers filled the air with life, his life. But that life contained so many others. And Sonny went all the way
the
back, he really began with the spare,
7.
A favorite
flat
statement of the opening phrase of the
jazz standard, brilliantly recorded by Billie Holiday.
240
James Baldwin
70
Then he began
song.
hurried and
had made
it
it
could help us to
his: that
was no
giving it
can
it
long
a
it
his.
was very beautiful because
It
lament.
1
seemed
Freedom lurked around be free if we would listen, battle in his face
to
yet to niake
us and
I
wasn't
it
hear with what burning he it
ours,
how we could
understood, at
last,
that
he
he would never be free until we heard what he had gone through,
that
now,
I
to rest in earth. He had made which we knew only Mama and Daddy. And he was everything must be given back, so that, passing through death,
and would continue it
make
and what burning we had
his,
cease lamenting.
did. Yet, there
to
was no longer
to
go through until he came
line, of
back, as
live forever.
I
saw
my
mother's face again, and
felt,
for the first time,
the stones of the road she had walked on must have bruised her
feet.
I
how
saw the
my father's brother died. And it brought something else me, and carried me past it, I saw my little girl again and felt Isabel's felt my own tears begin to rise.^nd I was yet aware that this tears again, and was only a moment, that the world waited outside, as hungr\' as a tiger, and that moonlit road where
back
to
I
trouble stretched above us, longer than the sky.
Then it was over. Creole and Sonny let out their breath, both soaking wet, and grinning. There was a lot of applause and some of it was real. In the dark, the girl came by and I asked her to take drinks to the bandstand. There was a long pause, while they talked up there in the indigo light and after awhile I saw the
put a Scotch and milk on top of the piano for Sonny.
girl
notice
it,
but
just before
toward me, and nodded.
began
as they
the
ver)'
He
Then he put
to play again,
it
it
seem to and looked
didn't
they started playing again, he sipped from
it
back on top of the piano. For me, then,
glowed and shook above
my
brother's
head
like
cup of trembling.^ 1957
8.
See Isaiah
51:17, 22-23:
the Lord the cup of his out.
my
.
.
Behold,
.
fury;
thee;
." .
.
I
"Awake, awake, stand up,
fur)-;
O Jerusalem,
which hast drunk
at the
hand of
thou hast drunken the dregs of the cup of trembling, and wrung them
have taken out of thine hand the cup of trembling, even the dregs of the cup of
thou shalt no more drink
it
again; But
I
will
put
it
into the
hand of them
that afflict
Plot T 71
PLOT
A
Glossary may be
action: an imagined event or series of events (an event
verbal as
well as physical, so that saying something or telling a story within the
may be an
story
event)
climax: see turning point
conclusion: the that
fifth
which the situation becomes stable once
part of the structure, the point at
was destabilized
beginning of the
at the
story
more between opposing and something in nature or
conflict: a struggle a person
forces,
such
society, or
as
between two people,
even between two
drives,
impulses, or parts of the self curiosity: the desire to
know what
discriminated occasion: the
first
is
happening or has happened
specific event in a story,
or
a character
is
meaning of the
like or
how he
is
to
or she will develop,
story will prove to
exposition: that part of the structure
identifies characters, establishes the situation at the rative,
usually in
happen next (see suspense), what the theme be, and so on that sets the scene, introduces and
expectation: the anticipation of what
what
more
summary
the form of a specific scene than in
though additional exposition
is
beginning of the nar-
often scattered throughout the
story
falling action: the fourth part of plot structure, in
which the complications
of the rising achon are untangled flashback: structuring device whereby a scene from the fictional past
is
inserted into the fictional present or dramatized out of order history: the imaginary people, places, chronologically arranged events that
we assume
exist in the
world of the author's imagination, a world from
which he or she chooses and arranges or rearranges the story elements plot/plot structure: the arrangement of the action red herring: a false lead, something that misdirects expectations rising action: the second of the five parts of plot structure, in which events complicate the situation that existed fying the conflict or introducing selection: the process by to
be important
new
at the
beginning of a work, intensi-
conflict
which authors leave out some things that seem and include some things that do not seem
to the story
very important structuring: the arrangement or rearrangement of the elements in the history
suspense: the expectation of and doubt about what
is
going
to
happen
next
turning point or climax: the third part of plot structure, the point the action stops rising
and begins
falling or reversing
at
which
Questions and Writing Suggestions
72
QUESTIONS 1.
We
are advised by Margaret
her sketch A; does
it
What
authentic ending for a stor\? uses the 2.
order.
word
"plot"
Atwood
that
and the way
if
What
have a happy ending?
we want
a
used
structured story begins,
to try
the only
is
way Atwood
the difference between the
is
it is
in the introduction to this chapter?
Rearrange the incidents in "The Country Husband"
The
happy ending
does she claim
"To begin
about the near-crash of Francis's plane. WTiy
in chronological
beginning
at the
.
and
."
.
tells
What
that the beginning?
is
is it
the beginning of? Describe the location, appearance, and socioeconomic
make-up of Shady
Hill.
Why
Clayton
Thomas and Anne
Francis
Weed and Shady
3-
and
The opening scene
is
the dog Jupiter "an anomaly" (par. lo)?
also not "belong"?
why does
have a "happy ending"? According
on with the
win's ston' 4. storv',
the
to
not the
is
first
incident in
Does
the story begin here?
Atwood, Baldwin should,
Sonny and
story until both
do
his brother die;
Sonny
this story
in all honesty,
why does
Bald-
end here?
In "Sonny's Blues,"
how
is
the first-person narrator, the person telling the
identified or characterized in the
first
Why
wins the struggle between
Hill?
of "Sonny's Blues"
his brother's relationship;
carry
Who
couple pages? in the
ston,' as
a
first
sentence? in the
first
paragraph? in
whole?
WRITING SUGGESTIONS 1.
Choose one of Atwood's
scene or two illustrating the 2.
Compare
"stories" (or conflate
How
or the
a Mystery," Maupassant's
sketches in
"Happy Endings."
"The
"The Country Husband" but
story
is,
"
Tallent's
more of the
centering on the same situa-
set in the 1990s,
Rearrange the episodes in "Sonnv's Blues
hypothetical history— that
Cheever and
Jewelry," or one or
Write a story or a sketch or outline of a
tion in 4.
Why.
the treatment of marital infidelit)' in
"No One's
3.
hvo or three) and write a
and
as they
in a place
you know.
would appear
in the
in chronological order. Pick the three or four
changes that seem to you most important. Describe the difference
in effect
and
significance that Baldwin has achieved with his structuring or rearrangement.
POINT OF VIEW tructuring involves
s What
selection involves
What would
more than
more than the ordering of events;
plot,
more than the choosing
or inventing of incidents.
"Sonny's Blues" be like seen through the eyes of Sonny?
incidents might he choose to tell? In what order might he arrange
And what end, that
does it is
do
it
"The Cask of Amontillado" when we
to
being told by Montresor
and that
years after the event
fifty
them?
realize, at the
his
last— probably dying— words, referring to Fortunate, are, "In pace requiescat"?
Why
he
is
telling the story
now? What
additional resonance do his final words
have?
Who
is
telling us the story
—whose words
person stand in relation to what
appear before us
ated.
The way
going on in the
is
someone
directlv. In narrative,
events— a viewer,
we reading? Where does
are
stor)'?
always between us and the
is
a speaker, or both. Narrative, unlike
a story
mediated
is
a
is
this
In drama, events
drama,
always medi-
is
key element in fictional structure. This
— the point from which the people, — and also the words of the story lying
mediation involves both the angle of vision
and other
events,
details are
between us and the
history.
viewed
The viewing
aspect
is
and the
called the focus,
Both are generally lumped together
bal aspect the voice.
ver-
term point of
in the
view.
Focus
acts
and the angle even
We
movie camera does, choosing what we can look
as a
which we can view
distorting. Plot
histor)';
it
much at
is
framing, proportioning,
it,
a structure that places us in a time relationship to the
focus places us in a spatial relationship.
must pay
fixed or
careful attention to the focus at
mobile? Does
it
stay at
more
and out? In the
Creek Bridge,"
first
for
three
and
example,
up
or
same angle and distance from the graph, however, we're inside the
"The arrangement commended
moment. it
...
A piece
same angle
action, or does
a half paragraphs of
we seem
era that can swing left or right,
any given point
or less the
same distance from, the characters and
slowly
at
emphasizing—
to
down, but
move around
is
of the
man
or in
Owl
in
He
73
are inside the
scope
at the
fourth para-
who's about to be hanged:
judgment. ...
now on we
more limited
at
much
that stays prett\'
looked a
of dancing drifhvood caught his attention.
man's head. The focus
stor}'. Is
at the
"An Occurrence
By the middle of the
itself to his
appeared to move!" From
in a
and
be seeing through the lens of a cam-
bridge.
mind
it
to,
.
.
.
How
condemned
— for almost all
the rest of the
74 story is
View
Point of
we can
see
and hear only what he
we can
internal as well as limited,
internal focus
The
is
sees
also
and
thinks.
This limited,
usually called the centered or central consciousness.
centered consciousness has been perhaps the most popular focus in
fiction for the past
hundred years— through most of the
short story, in fact— and gle individual
seem
tightly controlled
its
and the
natural.
ever, that the apparently real
cal realism.)
The
are narrated as
if
is
mind of the
has
It
not necessarily what is
but what
is
is,
how-
increasingly clear, "is"
sin-
perceived
sometimes called psychologi-
centered consciousness, in which things, people, and events filter
seemed the more
comfortable focus for readers, too.
On
the
of an individual character's con-
realistic
Lantin in "The Jewelry." first
person
We
pull
share, even
if
back
as
it
a
It is
identify with
the character
can identify with point of view at times.
can in a third-person
"The Cask of Amontillado,"
First-person stories, like
to tell a story.
but we are too close
("I"), too,
The camera cannot
way
one hand, they can
someone whose thoughts and perception they
story told in the
one sense realistic— that
become
individual. (This
perceived through the
sciousness, has therefore
lible, like
modern
During much of this
particularly suited for the short form.
treating the everyday
by the senses and
history of the
range and concentration on a
period, fiction, both long and short, has been in
escape.
But because the focus
hears.
know what he
is fal-
in a
We
cannot
story.
are always limited too,
and almost always get inside the speaker's mind, though Montresor hides
his
plans from us. While they cannot withdraw spatially from the narrator, they
almost always are withdrawn temporally; that than the "I" experiencing the events. is
what happened
telling
The
fifty
The
older
is
years earlier.
we
don't hold the author (or the story) responsible for
and opinions of the
the absolute truth, validity, accuracy,
he or she
is
just telling us
what he or she
"Owl Creek
thinks, feels,
may be
the possibility that the narrator's vision
consciousness
is
focal
character— if
sees— we must accept
unreliable. At a significant
Bridge," for example, you will find that the camera pulls
back from Peyton Farquhar and we are made
is
the "I" telling the story
psychological realism gained by having a limited narrator exacts a
price from the reader. If
point in
is,
narrator of Poe's story, for example,
a reliable witness to
to recognize to
what extent
what has been going on. The
his
history here
only an occurrence; the limited point of view structures the mere occur-
rence into
When
a story.
the point of view
centered consciousness,
it is
room, the camera must go
room when
is
limited,
whether
to a first-person narrator or to a
tied to that individual.
too,
the focal character
and is
if
we
gone,
are to
When
he or she leaves the
know what happens
some means
in the
of bringing the informa-
View
Point of
must be devised, such
tion to that character
character.
The camera may
"Owl Creek
as a letter or a report
pull back out of the character's
by another
mind
Bridge," above and away from the character, but
or even, as in
does not gener-
it
jump around. An unlimited point of view permits such freedom.
ally
Zebra Storyteller" we are with the
and are
cat speaking Zebraic
told
zebra (who
first
he
is
is
"astonished."
killed)
We
t 75
"The
In
when he meets
a
learn that the zebras
can smell no lion and so "decided the woods were haunted by the ghost of a lion,"
and we get inside the mind of the
storyteller
himself Throughout, the story seems free another and even
There
story.
to dip inside a character's
once
a point of
The movement
Creek Bridge" ning of the
story,
tant observer,
is
is
jump but
a
but there
is
be the law
we
a
settle in,
which
is
not an
a general
When
house or room).
panoramic shot
for the
this
dis-
uncommon
i!
at the
find there has
beginning. There has been to
be
and
justifiable
anthology— "The Most Dangerous
Game," "Barn Burning," and "The Lame
Shall Enter First," for
jump— from
which the point of view does shift— or
example — in
a previously established
centered consciousness. Whether these are "flaws" must be judged in each case in terms of function: ulation or
is it
the shift merely a narrative convenience or manip-
is
consistent with or does
it
contribute to the significance or vision
of the story?
Focus and voice often coincide; that together as point of view. There
between the viewing and the But sometimes there
ple.
Creek Bridge"
at the
quhar, but even
not
in words,
son
they are
telling in
that
I
commonly lumped can see (or hear)
"The Cask of Amontillado,"
the focus narrows on
is
exam-
for
a discrepancy. Like the focus, the voice in
"Owl
not centered in Peyton Far-
him
the voice telling the story
example, "As these thoughts, which have here
may
to
be set
prepare a careful reader for later developments in the
have used the
who
why
is
down
were flashed into the doomed man's brain" (emphasis added). The
discrepancy I
is
no discrepancy
beginning of the story
when
his; note, for
is
is
tells
common
the story.
You
term narrator
will
;
toward the end of the story
no jumping around and the narrowing and widening seem meaningful. There are stories in
Owl
at the begin-
begin with a panoramic shot of a town
to
moves back and away from Peyton Farquhar, we
been another reason
to
for that
apparently from the point of view and in the voice of a
adjusted and then
and gradually focused on the "camera"
to
narrowing down: the panorama
how many movies used
device (note
in fiction,
chosen that ought
of the focus at the beginning of "An Occurrence at
not a
is
view
and "hear" him speaking
matter from one focus or
mind.
no laws governing point of view
are
feeling that
to see
in the usual
way— to mean
story.
the per-
have noticed that often the narrator really
is
a
76
View
Point of
person in the
Montresor, the narrator in "The Cask of Amontillado."
story, like
But how about the narrator
in
"Owl Creek Bridge"?
Farquhar's words and can say things that Farquhar
"Death
is it
who
sets
down
not thinking, such
who, when he comes announced,
a dignitar\'
is
Who
is
is
as,
be received with
to
formal manifestations of respect, even by those most familiar with him. In the
code of
Where
fixit)-
him
story
we
tor
an unidentified voice we often tend
is
or,
are less likely to identify
of "Owl Creek Bridge"
rator
We
are forms of deference" (par.
What kind of person is this narrator? narrator? Where the narrator plays some role
2).
the speaker standing?
Ambrose Bierce the
Is
and
militar)' etiquette silence is
can dig up
few
a
facts
is
or her with the author; to
do
so.
To
say that Bierce
not necessarily wrong, but
about the author's
it
therefore, especially
on the
basis of a single
the nar-
into the
worse, read the character or detail of the stor) into the author's
more prudent,
is
can be misleading.
and read them
life
in the
where the narra-
storv',
life. It is
not to speak
stor\',
who
of the author but of the author's persona, the voice or figure of the author
and
tells
the actual person of the
name
who may or ma\ not resemble in nature or values author. Mar)' Anne Evans wrote novels under the
structures the story,
of George Eliot; her first-person narrator speaks of "himself " That male
narrator
may be
a
good example of the persona or representative
authors construct to "write" their
We down
say write the stories.
in
their songs (poems), so
which means
rator,
tors, that
It
we
for
narrator of
is
There are
He
some thought, be
We you
is
— to whom
to test this
and focus of the Anne, the baby Just as
whose
more
is
subtly
one whose
is,
a char-
addressed.
no more you the reader than the
"I"
is
The
Poe.
identity' or role
can,
though the
historv'
its
if
plot, so that to
you
shift
summarize
focus and voice
has not changed, the storv has.
You
out by rewriting "The Ca.sk of Amontillado" in the voice
"The Country' Husband"
or Francis
Weed's
narrator, Michel/I,
in the voice
and focus of
wife.
Margaret Atwood's "Happy Endings"
so "Blow-Up,"
nar-
identified.
auditor, or
sitter,
is
the "speech"
giving a plot summary. But
will often find that
might want
and we speak of a
other than the reader— that
are used to thinking of a stor\ in terms of
means
stor\',
of the convention of oral storytelling— Louise Erdrich's
second sentence
a storv' usuallv
to "set
usually with first-person narra-
a silent character within the fiction, here
is
with
stories,
even has an auditor, someone
in the
"Owl Creek Bridge" has
example. "The Cask of Amontillado"
acter or characters within the fiction
"You"
most
thinking. But just as poets write of singing
often speak of telling a
a teller.
make much
"Love Medicine" "oral."
The
words" what Farquhar
that
stories.
is
is
a story
about plot-structure,
appropriately a photographer, seems
The Cask to
be about focus
Because
it is
as a
means of describing
much from
not so
means of structuring (and understanding) an
a written
stors',
Michel needs
a voice, words,
become
the visual images, and these
the words as from the
77
of Amontillado
event.
but they are chiefly (if
they do)
details
through
clearer
enhancement of the
the enlargement (blowing up) of the photograph.
Point of view has been discussed here largely as a matter of structure, as
having
and making
a role in creating the story
structuring also engenders
meaning and
effect.
of having such a scoundrel as Montresor lado" in the side are
first
How
person?
we on? Do we admire
do we
What
the
tell
is
stor)^
and no
other. This
the effect, for example,
of
"The Cask of Amontil-
about him during the story?
feel
We
of the focus to Farquhar Bierce would not have a story, but what
ending of that
effect of the surprise
cheated?
Do we
Whose
Would we if the stor\' can talk about how without the
his cleverness or wit?
were told from some other point of view? shift
this stor}-
it
story?
How surprising
admire the cleverness of the
telling? In
Do we
is it?
some
is
the
feel
says there
might
be a story in "Blow-Up" without Michel the photographer, but not only would its
structure be vastly different, but
curiosity,
suspense— would be
story, for the
of view
is
its
current effect— mystery, puzzlement,
"Sonny's Blues" should be the brother's
lost.
outward action, the incidents, chiefly involve him, but the point
Sonny's and the meaning for us
we must
the experience with him, thing.
What do we
much
of
its
effect
on the voice
What do we
learn?
upon
that tells
it
the
is
meaning
for
him. By sharing
ask whether he/we has/have
us depends
feel?
Much
done the
right
of what a story means,
on the eyes through which
it is
seen and
to us.
EDGAR ALLAN POE The Cask The thousand
injuries of Fortunate
ventured upon insult
I
of Amontillado I
had borne
vowed revenge. You, who
as
I
best could, but
so well
know
when he
the nature of my
however, that I gave utterance to a threat. At length I would be avenged; this was a point definitively settled— but the ver\' definitiveness with which it was resolved precluded the idea of risk. I must not only punish but punish with impunit)'. A wrong is unredressed when retribution overtakes soul, will not suppose,
its
redresser.
felt as It
such
It is
to
equally unredressed
him who has done
must be understood
when
the avenger
fails to
make himself
the wrong.
that neither by
word nor deed had
I
given Fortunato
Edgar Allan Poe
78
my good will. I continued, as was my wont, to smile in his face, and he did not perceive that my smile now was at the thought of his immolation. He had a weak point— this Fortunato— although in other regards he was a man to be respected and even feared. He prided himself upon his connoisseurcause to doubt
Few
ship in wine.
enthusiasm
have the true virtuoso
Italians
adopted to
is
suit the
spirit.
For the most part their
time and opportunity,
imposture
to practice
and Austrian millionaires. In painting and gemmary Fortunato, like his countrymen, was a quack, but in the matter of old wines he was sincere. In this respect I did not differ from him materially; — I was skilful in the Italian
upon the
British
vintages myself,
and bought
whenever
largely
I
could.
was about dusk, one evening during the supreme madness of the carnival
It
season, that for
,
my
encountered
I
parti-striped dress,
was so pleased
his
him
head was surmounted by the conical cap and that
well you are looking to-day. But tillado,
and
have
I
"How?"
my
are luckily met.
How
I
remarkably
have received a pipe' of what passes
I
for
Amon-
doubts."
A
"Amontillado?
said he.
bells.
should never have done wringing his hand.
I
him — "My dear Fortunato, you
said to
I
and
to see
He accosted me with excessive warmth, man wore motley. He had on a tight-fitting
friend.
he had been drinking much. The
And
pipe? Impossible!
in the
middle of
the carnival!" "I
have
my doubts,"
I
"and
replied;
I
was
silly
lado price without consulting you in the matter.
was
I
enough
to
You were
pay the
full
Amontil-
not to be found, and
fearful of losing a bargain."
"Amontillado!" "I
my
have
doubts."
"Amontillado!"
"And
I
must
satisfy
them."
"Amontillado!" "As you are engaged, turn
it is
he.
He
will tell
"Luchresi cannot
tell
"And yet some fools "Come, let us go."
am on my way " me I
to Luchresi. If
any one has a
critical
Amontillado from Sherr)."
will
have
that his taste
it
is
a
match
for
your own."
"Whither?"
"To your
"My
vaults."
friend, no;
I
will
not impose upon your good nature.
"I I.
have no engagement;
"My
f)erceive
friend, no.
you are
It is
I
perceive you
"
have an engagement. Luchresi
— come."
not the engagement, but the severe cold with which
afflicted.
The
vaults are insufferably
damp. They
I
are encrusted
with nitre."
"Let us go, nevertheless.
been imposed upon. And Amontillado."
1.
A
cask holding 126 gallons.
The
cold
is
merely nothing. Amontillado! You have
as for Luchresi,
he cannot distinguish Sherry from
The Cask
79
of Amontillado t
Thus speaking, Fortunate possessed himself of my arm; and putting on a mask of black silk and drawing a roquelaire^ closely about my person, I suffered
him
me
to hurry
my
to
palazzo.
There were no attendants at home; they had absconded to make merry in honour of the time. I had told them that I should not return until the morning, and had given them explicit orders not to stir from the house. These orders were sufficient, I well knew, to insure their immediate disappearance, one and all, as soon I
my
as
back was turned.
took from their sconces two flambeaux, and giving one to Fortunato,
him through passed down
bowed
25
rooms to the archway that led into the vaults. I a long and winding staircase, requesting him to be cautious as he followed. We came at length to the foot of the descent, and stood together upon the damp ground of the catacombs of the Montresors.
The
several suites of
gait of
my
friend was unsteady,
and the
bells
upon
his
cap jingled
as
he
strode.
"The "It
is
pipe," said he. farther on," said
I;
"but observe the white web-work which gleams from
these cavern walls."
He
turned towards me, and looked into
rheum
distilled the
my
eyes with two filmy orbs that
of intoxication.
"Nitre?" he asked, at length. "Nitre,"
replied.
I
"How
30
long have you had that cough?"
— ugh!
"Ugh! ugh! ugh! — ugh! ugh! ugh! — ugh! ugh! ugh!
ugh! ugh!
— ugh!
ugh! ugh!"
My poor "It
is
friend
found
it
impossible to reply for
nothing," he said, at
"Come,"
I
said,
I
be missed. For
to
me
it is
cough
said; "the
you are happy,
We
no matter.
cannot be responsible. Besides, there
"Enough," he
minutes.
with decision, "we will go back; your health
are rich, respected, admired, beloved;
man
many
last.
is
a
is
as
once
is I
go back; you
will
You
precious.
was.
You
will
be
ill,
me.
I
35
are a
and
"
Luchresi
mere nothing;
it
will not kill
shall
not die of a cough."
"True— true,"
I
replied; "and, indeed,
unneccessarily— but you should use
Medoc^ Here
had no intention of alarming you
A
draught of
this
defend us from the damps."
will I
I
proper caution.
all
off the neck of a bottle which upon the mould. said, presenting him the wine.
knocked
I
drew from
a long
row of
its
fellows that lay
"Drink,"
He
I
raised
it
to his lips with a leer.
He paused and nodded
to
me
familiarly,
while his bells jingled. "I
drink," he said, "to the buried that repose
"And
He
I
your long
again took
"These
2.
to
my
vaults,"
he
around
us."
De Grave
(below), a French wine.
life."
arm, and
we proceeded.
said, "are extensive."
Roquelaure: man's heavy, knee-length cloak.
3.
Like
40
80 T Edgar Allan Poe "The Montresors,"
45
"I forget
I
replied, "were a great
"A huge human
foot d'or,'* in a field azure; the foot crushes a serpent ram-
pant whose fangs are imbedded
50
and numerous family."
your arms." in the heel."
"And the motto?" "Nemo me impune lacessit."^ "Good!" he said. The wine sparkled in his eyes and the bells jingled. My own fancy grew warm with the Medoc. We had passed through long walls of piled skeletons, with casks and puncheons intermingling, into the inmost recesses of the catacombs. I paused again, and this time I made bold to seize Fortunato by an arm above the elbow.
"The
nitre!"
are
below the
we
will "It
I
said; "see,
river's
go back ere is
bed. it is
too
increases.
it
The
It
hangs
moss upon the
like
drops of moisture trickle
late.
among the
vaults.
bones.
We
Come,
"
Your cough
nothing," he said; "let us go on. But
first,
another draught of the
Medoc."
with a gesticulation
looked
I
55
De Grave. He emptied it at a breath. He laughed and threw the botfle upwards
broke and reached him a flagon of
I
His eyes flashed with a fierce
him
at
I
light.
did not understand.
in surprise.
He
'Tou do not comprehend?" he "Not I," I replied.
"Then you "How?"
repeated the
movement— a
grotesque one.
said.
are not of the brotherhood."
"You are not of the masons."^
60
'Tes, yes,"
I
said; "yes, yes."
A mason?" "A mason," I replied. "A sign," he said, "a sign." "It is this," I answered producing from beneath the 'Tou? Impossible!
65
folds of
my
roquelaire a
trowel.
"You
jest,"
he exclaimed, recoiling
few paces. "But
a
let
us proceed to the
Amontillado."
"Be
my
it
arm.
so,"
He
I
said, replacing the tool
leaned upon
Amontillado.
We
it
heavily.
beneath the cloak and again offering him
We
continued our route
in search of the
passed through a range of low arches, descended, passed on,
and descending again, arrived
at a
deep
crypt, in
which the foulness of the
air
caused our flambeaux rather to glow than flame. At the most remote end of the crypt there appeared another walls
had been lined with
human
fashion of the great catacombs of Paris. still
4.
ornamented
Of gold.
5.
in this
less spacious. Its
remains, piled to the vault overhead, in the
Three
sides of this interior cr^pt
manner. From the fourth
side the
were
bones had been
6. Masons or Freemasons, an interna"No one provokes me with impunit}'." condemned by the Catholic Church. Montresor means by mason one who
tional secret society
builds with stone, brick, etc.
The Cask thrown down, and
mound
some
lay
of Amontillado
promiscuously upon the earth, forming
81
one point a
at
Within the wall thus exposed by the displacing of the bones, we perceived a still interior crypt or recess, in depth about four feet, in width three, in height six or seven. It seemed to have been constructed for no especial use within itself, but formed merely the interval between two of the of
size.
colossal supports of the roof of the catacombs,
and was backed by one of
their
circumscribing walls of solid granite.
was in vain that Fortunato, uplifting
It
into the depth of the recess.
his dull torch,
endeavoured
to pry
termination the feeble light did not enable us to
Its
see.
"Proceed,"
"He
"herein
said;
I
is
ward, while
"
the Amontillado. As for Luchresi
an ignoramus," interrupted
is
my
friend, as
70
he stepped unsteadily
for-
followed immediately at his heels. In an instant he had reached
I
the extremity of the niche, and finding his progress arrested by the rock, stood stupidly bewildered. its
A moment more
and
I
had
fettered
him
to the granite. In
surface were two iron staples, distant from each other about two feet, horizon-
tally. From one of these depended a short chain, from the other a padlock. Throwing the links about his waist, it was but the work of a few seconds to secure it. He was too much astounded to resist. Withdrawing the key I stepped back
from the
recess. I said, "over the wall; you cannot help feeling the nitre. damp. Once more let me implore you to return. No? Then I leave you. But I will first render you all the little attentions in
"Pass your hand,"
Indeed,
must
my
very
it is
positively
power."
my
"The Amontillado!" ejaculated
not yet recovered from his
friend,
astonishment.
"True,"
As
I
replied; "the Amontillado."
said these
I
words
I
busied myself
have before spoken. Throwing them aside,
among I
the pile of bones of which
I
soon uncovered a quantity of build-
With these materials and with the aid of my trowel, I up the entrance of the niche. I had scarcely laid the first tier of the masonry when I discovered that the intoxication of Fortunato had in great measure worn off. The earliest indication I had of this was a low moaning cry from the depth of the recess. It was not the cry of a drunken man. There was then a long and obstinate silence. I laid the second tier, and the third, and the fourth; and then I heard the furious vibration ing stone and mortar.
began vigorously
of the chain.
hearken
to
the bones.
it
to wall
The
noise lasted for several minutes, during which, that
with the more satisfaction,
When
at last
fifth,
now
my
upon
a level with
A succession
of loud and
hesitated, recess;
I
seemed
shrill
my I
a
resumed the
I
might
The
and
fin-
wall was
again paused, and holding the flam-
screams, bursting suddenly from
me violently back. my rapier, began to I
but the thought of an instant reassured me.
catacombs and
trowel,
tier.
I
down upon
few feeble rays upon the figure within.
to thrust
trembled. Unsheathing
solid fabric of the
labours and sat
the sixth, and the seventh
breast.
beaux over the mason-work, threw the chained form,
ceased
the clanking subsided,
ished without interruption the
nearly
I
felt satisfied.
I
I
flie
grope with
placed
throat of
moment
For a brief it
my hand upon
reapproached the
I
about the
wall.
I
the
replied
75
82 T Ambrose Bierce
him who clamoured.
to the yells of
volume and It
was
in strength.
now
I
did
my
midnight, and
re-echoed,
I
I
aided,
I
and the clamourer grew
this,
task
the eighth, the ninth and the tenth
was drawing
tier.
I
surpassed
to a close.
had finished
them
1
had completed
a portion of the last
the eleventh; there remained but a single stone to be fitted and plastered struggled with there It
its
weight;
came from out
I
placed
it
partially in
the noble Fortunato.
have
will
The
— he!
many
I
had
— — a very good
and in.
I
now
destined position. But
the niche a low laugh that erected the hairs
was succeeded by a sad voice, which "Ha! ha! ha!
its
in
still.
upon my head.
difficulty in recognizing as that of
voice said
he! he!
a rich laugh
about
it
indeed— an excellent jest. We palazzo— he! he! he! — over our
joke,
at the
wine — he! he! he!"
"The Amontillado!"
— he!
"He! he! he!
I
he!
said.
he!— yes,
Will not they be awaiting us
at the
the Amontillado. But
palazzo
— the
is
not getting late?
it
Lady Fortunato and the
rest?
Let us be gone." "Yes,"
said, "let us
I
be gone."
"For the love of God, Montresor!" 'Tes,"
But aloud
said, "for the love of
I
words
to these
I
God!"
hearkened
in vain for a reply.
I
grew impatient.
I
called
—
"Fortunato!"
No
answer.
I
called again
—
"Fortunato!"
No fall
answer
still.
I
thrust a torch through the
remaining aperture and
let
it
There came forth in return only a jingling of the bells. My heart it was the dampness of the catacombs that made it so. I hastened to
within.
grew
sick;
make an end of my labour. I forced the last stone into its up. Against the new masonry I re-erected the old rampart
position;
I
plastered
it
of bones. For the half
of a centur)' no mortal has disturbed them. In pace requiescaW 1846
AMBROSE BIERCE An Occurrence
A man
stood
upon
7.
bound with
May he
rest in
a cord.
peace!
Owl Creek Bridge
a railroad bridge in Northern
the swift waters twenty feet below. wrists
at
A
Alabama, looking down into
The man's hands were behind
rope loosely encircled his neck.
It
his back, the
was attached
to a
An Occurrence
at
Owl Creek Bridge
83
his head, and the slack fell to the level of his knees. upon the sleepers supporting the metals of the railway supplied a footing for him and his executioners — two private soldiers of the Federal army, directed by a sergeant, who in civil life may have been a deputy sheriff. At a short remove upon the same temporary platform was an officer in the uniform of his rank, armed. He was a captain. A sentinel at each end of the
stout cross-timber
Some
above
loose boards laid
bridge stood with his
rifie in
the position
vertical in front of the left shoulder, the
straight across the
known
hammer
chest— a formal and unnatural
carriage of the body.
what was occurring
It
at
as "support," that
resting
is
to say,
on the forearm thrown
position, enforcing
did not appear to be the duty of these two
an erect
men
to
know
the centre of the bridge; they merely blockaded the two
ends of the foot plank which traversed
it.
Beyond one of the sentinels nobody was in sight; the railroad ran straight away into a forest for a hundred yards, then, curving, was lost to view. Doubtless there was an outpost further along. The other bank of the stream was open ground— a gentle acclivity crowned with a stockade of vertical tree trunks, loopholed for rifles, with a single embrasure through which protruded the muzzle of a brass cannon commanding the bridge. Midway of the slope between bridge and fort were the spectators — a single company of infantry in line, at "parade rest," the butts of the rifles on the ground, the barrels inclining slightly backward against the right shoulder, the hands crossed upon the stock. A lieutenant stood at the right of the line, the point of his sword upon the ground, his left hand resting upon his right. Excepting the group of four at the centre of the bridge not a man moved. The company faced the bridge, staring stonily, motionless. The sentinels, facing the banks of the stream, might have been statues to adorn the bridge.
The
captain stood with folded arms, silent, observing the work of his
subordinates but making no sign. Death
announced,
is
to
is
a dignitary
who, when he comes
be received with formal manifestations of respect, even by
those most familiar with him. In the code of military etiquette silence and
fixity
are forms of deference.
The man who was engaged in being hanged was apparently about thirty-five He was a civilian, if one might judge from his dress, which was that
years of age.
of a planter. His features were good
—a
straight nose, firm
head, from which his long, dark hair was
combed
his ears to the collar of his well-fitting frock coat.
mouth, broad
fore-
behind moustache and
straight back, falling
He wore
a
pointed beard, but no whiskers; his eyes were large and dark grey and had a kindly expression which one would hardly have expected in one whose neck
was in the hemp. Evidently code makes provision
for
this
was no vulgar
assassin.
The
liberal military
hanging many kinds of people, and gentlemen are not
excluded.
The preparations being complete, the two private soldiers stepped aside and each drew away the plank upon which he had been standing. The sergeant turned to the captain, saluted and placed himself immediately behind that offi-
who in turn moved apart one pace. These movements left the condemned man and the sergeant standing on the two ends of the same plank, which spanned three of the cross-ties of the bridge. The end upon which the civilian cer,
"
Ambrose
84
Bierce
stood almost, but not quite, reached a fourth. This plank had been held in place
bv the weight of the captain;
from the former, the
latter
it
was now held by that of the sergeant. At
would
demned man go dow n behveen his
judgment
eves bandaged.
gaze wander
A piece
and
as simple
He
tw o
moment
a signal
and the con-
tilt
The arrangement commended
ties.
effective.
looked a
to the swirling
would
step aside, the plank
itself to
His face had not been covered nor his at his "unsteadfast footing,"
then
let his
water of the stream racing madly beneath his
of dancing driftv\ood caught his attention and his eyes followed
it
feet.
down
How slowK' it appeared to move! What a sluggish stream! He closed his eyes in order to fix his last thoughts upon his wife and children. The water, touched to gold by the early sun, the brooding mists under the banks at some distance down the stream, the fort, the soldiers, the piece of drift— all had distracted him. And now he became conscious of a new disturbance. Strikthe current.
ing through the thought of his dear ones was a sound which he could neither
ignore nor understand, a sharp, distinct, metallic percussion like the stroke of a
hammer upon
blacksmith's
dered what both.
it
the anvil;
had the same ringing
it
He won-
by— it seemed
recurrence was regular, but as slow as the tolling of a death knell.
Its
awaited each stroke with impatience and
The
qualit\'.
was, and whether immeasurably distant or near
intervals of silence
He
— he
knew not whv— apprehension. longer, the dela\s became mad-
grew progressi\elv
dening. With their greater infrequency the sounds increased in strength and sharpness.
They
hurt his ear like the thrust of a knife; he feared he would shriek.
What he heard was the ticking of his watch. He unclosed his eves and saw again the water below hands," he thought, diving to the lines; i\s
I
"I
might throw
could evade the
bullets, and,
woods, and get awav home.
my
wife and
little
these thoughts,
off the
ones are
swimming
M\ home,
still
which have here
to
doomed man's brain rather than sergeant. The sergeant stepped aside.
the
"If
I
could free
my
vigorously, reach the bank, take
thank God,
be\ond the
into the
him.
noose and spring into the stream. By
be
set
is
as yet outside their
invader's farthest advance.
down
evolved from
in words,
it,
were flashed
the captain
nodded
to
II
Peyton Farquhar was a well-to-do planter, of an old and highk -respected Ala-
bama
familv.
Being
a slave
owner, and,
like
other slave owners, a politician, he
was naturalK- an original secessionist and ardently devoted to the Southern cause. Circumstances of an imperious nature which it is unnecessar\ to relate here,
had prevented him from taking service with the gallant army which had fall of Corinth,' and he chafed
fought the disastrous campaigns ending with the
under the inglorious life
restraint,
longing for the release of his energies, the larger
of the soldier, the opportunit} for distinction. That opportunit\-, he
felt,
comes to all in war time. Meanwhile he did what he could. No service was too humble for him to perform in aid of the South, no adventure too perilous for him to undertake if consistent with the character of a ci\ ilian would come,
1.
as
it
Corinth. Mississippi, captured by General Ulysses
S.
Grant
in .April 1862.
An Occurrence who was
and who
at heart a soldier,
in
good
faith
Owl Creek Bridge
at
and without too much quahfi-
cation assented to at least a part of the frankly villainous dictum that in love
t 85
all is fair
and war.
One
evening while Farquhar and his wife were
sitting
up
the entrance to his grounds, a grey-clad soldier rode
Farquhar was only too happy
a drink of water. Mrs.
on
bench near and asked for
a rustic
to the gate
to serve
him with her own
white hands. While she was gone to fetch the water, her husband approached
horseman and inquired eagerly for news from the front. "The Yanks are repairing the railroads," said the man, "and are getting ready for another advance. They have reached the Owl Creek bridge, put it in order, and built a stockade on the other bank. The commandant has issued an order, which is posted everywhere, declaring that any civilian caught interfering with the railroad, its bridges, tunnels, or trains, will be summarily hanged. I saw the the dusty
order."
"How
far
"About
is it
Owl Creek
to the
bridge?" Farquhar asked.
thirty miles."
no force on this side the creek?" "Only a picket post half a mile out, on the railroad, and a single sentinel at this end of the bridge." "Suppose a man— a civilian and student of hanging— should elude the "Is there
picket post and perhaps get the better of the sentinel," said Farquhar, smiling,
"what could he accomplish?"
The
soldier reflected. "I
was there a month ago," he replied.
"I
observed that
the flood of last winter had lodged a great quantity of driftwood against the
wooden
pier at this
end of the
bridge.
It is
now
dry and would burn like
tow."
The
lady had
now brought
her ceremoniously,
bowed
the water,
to her
which the
He thanked An hour later, after
soldier drank.
husband, and rode away.
nightfall, he repassed the plantation, going northward which he had come. He was a Federal scout.
in the direction
from
Ill
downward through the bridge, he lost conFrom this state he was awakened — ages later, it seemed to him— by the pain of a sharp pressure upon his throat, followed by a sense of suffocation. Keen, poignant agonies seemed to shoot from his neck downward through every fibre of his body and limbs. These pains appeared to
As Peyton Farquhar
fell
straight
sciousness and was as one already dead.
flash
along well-defined lines of ramification, and to beat with an inconceivably
fire heating him to an he was conscious of nothing but a feeling of fullness — of congestion. These sensations were unaccompanied by
rapid periodicity.
They seemed
intolerable temperature.
thought.
only to
As
like
streams of pulsating
to his head,
The
intellectual part of his nature was already effaced; he had power and feeling was torment. He was conscious of motion. Encomluminous cloud, of which he was now merely the fiery heart, without
feel,
passed in a
material substance, he
pendulum. Then
all at
swung through unthinkable
arcs of oscillation, like a vast
once, with terrible suddenness, the light about
him
shot
Ambrose
86
Bierce
upward with the noise of a loud
plash; a frightful roaring
was
in his ears,
and
all
was cold and dark. The power of thought was restored; he knew that the rope had broken and he had fallen into the stream. There was no additional strangunoose about his neck was already suffocating him, and kept the water
lation; the
from
him
To die of hanging at the bottom of a river!— the idea seemed to He opened his eyes in the blackness and saw above him a gleam how distant, how inaccessible! He was still sinking, for the light
his lungs.
ludicrous.
of light, but
became
and
fainter
fainter until
it
was
a
mere glimmer. Then
it
began
to
grow
and brighten, and he knew that he was rising toward the surface — knew it with reluctance, for he was now very comfortable. "To be hanged and drowned," he thought, "that that
is
not
not so bad; but
is
He was
not conscious of an
he was trying
that idler
to free his
might observe the
splendid
I
do not wish
to
be
shot.
No;
I
will not
be shot;
fair."
effort!
— what
effort,
hands.
but a sharp pain in his wrist apprised him
He
feat of a juggler,
gave the struggle his attention, as an
without interest
in the
outcome. What
magnificent, what superhuman strength! Ah, that was a
The cord fell away; his arms parted and floated upward, on each side in the growing light. He watched them with a new interest as first one and then the other pounced upon the noose at his neck. They tore it away and thrust it fiercely aside, its undulations resembling fine endeavour! Bravo!
the hands dimly seen
those of a water-snake. "Put
it
back, put
it
back!"
He
thought he shouted these
undoing of the noose had been succeeded b) the direst pang which he had yet experienced. His neck ached horribly; his brain was on fire; his heart, which had been fluttering faintly, gave a great leap, try ing to force itself out at his mouth. His whole body was racked and wrenched with
words
to his hands, for the
his disobedient hands gave no heed to the command. They beat the water vigorously with quick, downward strokes, forcing
an insupportable anguish! But
him
to the surface.
light; his
He
felt his
head emerge;
his eyes
were blinded by the sun-
chest expanded convulsively, and with a supreme and crowning agony
his lungs engulfed a great
He was now
draught of air, which instantly he expelled in a shriek!
in full possession of his physical senses.
They were, indeed,
Something in the awful disturbance of his organic system had so exalted and refined them that they made record of things never before perceived. He felt the ripples upon his face and heard their separate sounds as they struck. He looked at the forest on the bank of the stream, saw the individual trees, the leaves and the veining of each leaf— the very insects upon them, the locusts, the brilliant-bodied flies, the grey spiders stretching their webs from twig to twig. He noted the prismatic colors in all the dewdrops upon a preternaturally keen
and
million blades of grass.
alert.
The humming
of the gnats that danced above the eddies
of the stream, the beating of the dragon spiders' legs, like oars
music.
A
fish slid
which had
flies'
lifted their
wings, the strokes of the water
boat— all
these
made
along beneath his eyes and he heard the rush of
audible its
body
parting the water.
He had come world seemed bridge, the
fort,
to the surface facing
down
the stream; in a
moment
the visible
wheel slowly round, himself the pivotal point, and he saw the the soldiers upon the bridge, the captain, the sergeant, the two
to
An Occurrence privates, his executioners.
They were
shouted and gesticulated, pointing did not
fire;
at
Owl Creek Bridge
at
in silhouette against the
blue
him; the captain had drawn his
87
sky.
They
pistol,
but
movements were grotesque and
the others were unarmed. Their
horrible, their forms gigantic.
Suddenly he heard
and something struck the water smartly He heard a second
a sharp report
within a few inches of his head, spattering his face with spray.
and saw one of the sentinels with his rifle at his shoulder, a light cloud smoke rising from the muzzle. The man in the water saw the eye of the man on the bridge gazing into his own through the sights of the rifle. He observed that it was a grey eye, and remembered having read that grey eyes were keenest and that all famous marksmen had them. Nevertheless, this one had report,
of blue
missed.
A
counter swirl had caught Farquhar and turned him half round; he was
again looking into the forest on the bank opposite the
high voice in a monotonous singsong
now
fort.
rang out behind
the water with a distinctness that pierced and subdued the beating of the ripples in his ears. Although
camps enough
know
to
all
other sounds, even
soldier,
he had frequented
the dread significance of that deliberate, drawling, aspi-
on shore was taking a part in the morning's work. what an even, calm intonation, presaging and
rated chant; the lieutenant
How
no
The sound of a clear, him and came across
coldly and pitilessly— with
men — with what
enforcing tranquillity in the
accurately-measured intervals
fell
those cruel words: "Attention,
company.
.
.
Farquhar dived — dived
.
Shoulder arms.
as
like the voice of Niagara, vet
rising again
.
.
.
Ready.
The
deeply as he could.
.
.
.
Aim.
.
.
.
he heard the dulled thunder of the
toward the surface, met shining
bits
Fire."
water roared in his ears volley,
and
of metal, singularly flattened,
downward. Some of them touched him on the face and hands, One lodged between his collar and neck; it was uncomfortably warm, and he snatched it out. As he rose to the surface, gasping for breath, he saw that he had been a long time under water; he was perceptibK- farther down stream — nearer to safety. The oscillating slowly
then
fell
soldiers
away, continuing their descent.
had almost finished reloading; the metal ramrods flashed
the sunshine as they were into their sockets.
drawn from the
The two
barrels,
turned in the
sentinels fired again, independently
air,
once in and thrust
and
ineffectu-
all at
ally.
The hunted man saw
all this
over his shoulder; he was
now swimming vigor-
ously with the current. His brain was as energetic as his arms and legs; he
thought with the rapidity of lightning.
"The time.
officer,"
It is
given the
An
he reasoned,
as easy to
command
dodge
"will
not
make
that martinet's error a
a volley as a single shot.
to fire at will.
God
help me,
I
He
cannot dodge them
all!"
appalling plash within two yards of him, followed by a loud rushing
sound, diminuendo, which seemed to travel back through the
which curved over him,
The cannon had
fell
air to
the fort and
A
rising sheet of
down upon him, blinded him,
strangled him!
died in an explosion which stirred the water,
second
has probably already
ver)' river to its
deeps!
taken a hand in the game. As he shook his head free from the
Ambrose
88
commotion
Bierce
humming
of the smitten water, he heard the deflected shot
and
the air ahead,
in
an instant
through
was cracking and smashing the branches
it
in
the forest beyond. 30
"They
not do that again," he thought; "the next time they will use a
will
charge of grape.
must keep
I
the report arrives too late;
Suddenly he
it
my eye upon
missile.
now
smoke
It is
himself whirled round and round
felt
water, the banks, the forest, the
commingled and
the gun; the
behind the
lags
a
will apprise
me —
good gun."
— spinning like a top. The were and men —
distant bridge, fort
all
blurred. Objects were represented by their colors only; circular
horizontal streaks of color— that was all he saw. He had been caught in a vortex and was being whirled on with a velocity of advance and g)Tation which made him giddv and sick. In a few moments he was flung upon the gravel at the foot of the left bank of the stream — the southern bank— and behind a projecting point which concealed him from his enemies. The sudden arrest of his motion, the abrasion of one of his hands on the gravel, restored him and he wept with delight. He dug his fingers into the sand, threw it over himself in handfuls and
audibly blessed
It
it.
looked like gold,
think of nothing beautiful which
were giant garden
plants;
he noted
the fragrance of their blooms.
among
their trunks,
He had no
harps.
A
a definite
The
upon
trees
the bank
order in their arrangement, inhaled
strange, roseate light
and the wind made
wish
diamonds, rubies, emeralds; he could
like
did not resemble.
it
in their
to perfect his escape,
shone through the spaces
branches the music of seolian
was content
to
remain
in that
enchanting spot until retaken.
A
whizz and
roused
He
farewell.
of grapeshot
rattle
him from
his
sprang
dream.
The
to his feet,
among
the branches high above his head
cannoneer had
baffled
fired
him
a
random
rushed up the sloping bank, and plunged into
the forest. All that
day he travelled, laying his course by the rounding sun. The
forest
seemed interminable; nowhere did he discover a break in it, not even a woodman's road. He had not known that he lived in so wild a region. There was something uncanny in the revelation. By nightfall he was fatigued, footsore, famishing. The thought of his wife and children urged him on. At last he found a road which led him in what he knew to be the right direction. It was as wide and straight as a city street, yet it seemed untravelled. No fields bordered it, no dwelling anywhere. Not so much as the
barking of a dog suggested
great trees
formed
point, like a
diagram
grouped
in strange constellations.
The
black bodies of the
terminating on the horizon in a
Overhead, stars
as
he looked up
looking unfamiliar and
He was sure they were arranged in some order and malign significance. The wood on either side was full among which — once, twice, and again — he distinctly heard
secret
of singular noises,
whispers in an
unknown
His neck was that
habitation.
sides,
wood, shone great golden
this rift in the
He knew
human
on both
in a lesson in perspective.
through
which had a
35
a straight wall
it
in pain,
had a
tongue.
and,
hand to it, he found it horribly swollen. where the rope had bruised it. His eyes felt
lifting his
circle of black
congested; he could no longer close them. His tongue was swollen with
thirst;
Blow-Up T 89 he relieved
its
feel the
it forward from between his teeth into the cool had carpeted the untravelled avenue! He could no longer
fever by thrusting
How softly the
air.
turf
roadway beneath
his feet!
Doubtless, despite his suffering, he
fell
asleep while walking, for
another scene— perhaps he has merely recovered from a delirium.
now he
He
sees
stands at
own home. All is as he left it, and all bright and beautiful in the morning sunshine. He must have travelled the enhre night. As he pushes open the gate and passes up the wide white walk, he sees a flutter of female garments; his wife, looking fresh and cool and sweet, steps down from the verandah to meet him. At the bottom of the steps she stands waiting, with a smile of ineffable joy, an attitude of matchless grace and dignity. Ah, how beautiful she is! He springs forward with extended arms. As he is about to clasp her, he feels a stunthe gate of his
ning blow upon the back of the neck; a blinding white
him, with a sound
shock of
like the
Peyton Farquhar was dead;
his
a
cannon— then
light blazes all
about
darkness and silence!
body, with a broken neck, swung gently from
Owl Creek
beneath the timbers of the
side to side
all is
bridge.
1891
JULIO CORTAZAR Blow-Up^ It'll
never be
known how
this
has to be told, in the
first
person or in the second,
modes that will or: we hurt me at
using the third person plural or continually inventing nothing.
If
one might say: I will see the moon rose, and especially: you the blond woman was the clouds
my eyes, my your his of
our yours their
Seated ready to
tell
faces.
if
it,
What
And
that's
not just a
that race before
the hell.
one might go
to drink a
bock over
there,
and the
I
use the machine), that would be perfec-
manner of
speaking. Perfection, yes, because here
typewriter continue by itself (because tion.
serve for
the back
the aperture which
must be counted also as a machine (of another sort, a Contax 1.1.2) and it is possible that one machine may know more about another machine than I, you, she— the blond — and the clouds. But I have the dumb luck to know that if I go this Remington will sit turned to stone on top of the is
table with the air of being twice as quiet that I
have
told. Better that
it
be
I
who
mobile things have when they are
One of us all has to write, if this is going to get me who am dead, for I'm less compromised than the rest;
not moving. So,
to write.
see only the clouds
and can think without being
distracted, write
without
being distracted (there goes another, with a grey edge) and remember without
who am dead (and I'm alive, I'm not trying to fool anybody, when we get to the moment, because I have to begin some way and
being distracted, you'll see I've
I
begun with this period, the last one back, the one at the beginning, which end is the best of the periods when you want to tell something).
in the 1.
Translated bv Paul Blackburn.
90 T
Julio Cortazar
sudden
wonder why
I have to tell this, but if one begins to wonder one wonders why he accepts an invitation to lunch (now a pigeon's flying by and it seems to me a sparrow), or why when someone has told us a good joke immediately there starts up something like a tickling in the stomach and we are not at peace until we've gone into the office across the hall and told the joke over again; then it feels good immediately, one is fine, happy, and can get back to work. For I imagine that no one has explained
All of a
why he does
I
he does do,
all
if
is to put aside all decorum and tell it, because, ashamed of breathing or of putting on his shoes; they're things that you do, and when something weird happens, when you find a spider in your shoe or if you take a breath and feel like a broken window, then
this, that really
you have
Oh,
the best thing
done, nobody
after all's
happening,
to tell what's
doctor, ever)' time
tickle in the
And now
stomach
the guys at the office or to the doctor.
tell it to
take a breath
I
.
.
.
Always
tell
it,
always get rid of that
that bothers you.
that we're finally going to
down
we'd be walking
month
is
tell
it,
let's
put things a
little bit
the staircase in this house as far as Sunday,
One
down
in order,
November
7,
and stands then in the Sunday in the sun one would not have suspected of Paris in November, with a large appetite to walk around, to see things, to take photos (because we were photograjust a
back.
goes
five floors
I know that the most difficult thing is going to be and I'm not afraid of repeating myself It's going to be difficult because nobody really knows who it is telling it, if I am I or what actually occurred or what I'm seeing (clouds, and once in a while a pigeon) or if, simply, I'm telling a truth which is only my truth, and then is the truth only for
phers, I'm a photographer).
way
finding a
my stomach,
to tell
impulse to go running out and
for this
with, this, whatever
it,
to finish
up
in
some manner
it is.
what happens in the middle of what I'm writing me, if, so soon, I don't know what to say, if the clouds stop coming and something else starts (because it's impossible that this keep coming, clouds passing continually and occasionally a pigeon), if something out of all this And after the "if" what am I going to put if I'm We're going
is
coming
to tell
it
slowly,
already. If they replace
.
going I'll
never
tell
.
.
sentence structure correctlv? But
to close the
maybe
anything,
one who's reading
to tell
would be
like
I
begin to ask questions, at least for
some-
it.
Roberto Michel, French-Chilean, translator and teur photographer,
if
an answer,
left
number
time an amaSunday November 7
in his spare
u, rue Monsieur-le-Prince
of the current year (now there're two small ones passing, with silver linings).
He
had spent three weeks working on the French version of a treatise on challenges and appeals by Jose Norberto Allende, professor at the University of Santiago. It's rare that there's wind in Paris, and even less seldom a wind like this that swirled around corners
and rose up
to
whip
at old
wooden Venetian
blinds
behind which astonished ladies commented variously on how unreliable the weather had been these
and friend of the
last
cats, so
few
years.
But the sun was out
there was nothing that
also, riding the
would keep
me
wind
from taking
a
walk along the docks of the Seine and taking photos of the Conservatoire and Sainte-Chapelle.
It
was hardly ten o'clock, and
I
figured that by eleven the light
Blow-Up T 91 would be good, the best you can get in the fall; to kill some time I detoured around by the Isle Saint-Louis and started to walk along the quai d'Anjou, I stared for a bit at the hotel de Lauzun, I recited bits from Apollinaire^ which
my
always get into that gar),
ought
hard
as
and
head whenever
I
pass in front of the hotel de
Lauzun (and
at
be remembering the other poet, but Michel is an obstinate begand when the wind stopped all at once and the sun came out at least twice
I
to
mean warmer,
(I
felt terribly
One
of the
happy
it's the same Sunday morning.
but really
in the
many ways it
I
sat
down on
the parapet
of contesting level-zero, and one of the best,
photographs, an activity in which one should in life, teach
thing),
to children since
start
is
to take
becoming an adept very
early
requires discipline, aesthetic education, a
it
good eye and steady fingers. I'm not talking about waylaying the lie like any old reporter, snapping the stupid silhouette of the VIP leaving number lo Downing Street,^ but in all ways when one is walking about with a camera, one has almost a
duty to be attentive, to not lose that abrupt and happy rebound of sun's rays
off
an old stone, or the
a
run of a small girl going home with a loaf knew that the photographer always worked as
pigtails-flying
of bread or a bottle of milk. Michel
permutation of his personal way of seeing the world
imposed upon
insidiously
he lacked no confidence
it
(now
a large
in himself,
cloud
knowing
is
that
as other
than the camera
going by, almost black), but
he had only
to
go out without
the Contax to recover the keynote of distraction, the sight without a frame
around
light
it,
without the diaphragm aperture or
word, now, what a
dumb
lie)
I
was able
to
sit
'/250
quietly
sec.
on the
Right
now
(what a
railing overlooking
and black motorboats passing below without it more than letting myself go in the letting go of objects, running immobile in the stream of time. And then the wind was not blowing. After, I wandered down the quai de Bourbon until getting to the end of the isle where the intimate square was (intimate because it was small, not that it was hidden, it offered its whole breast to the river and the sky), I enjoyed it, a lot. Nothing there but a couple and, of course, pigeons; maybe even some of those which are flying past now so that I'm seeing them. A leap up and I settled on the wall, and let myself turn about and be caught and fixed by the sun, giving it my face and ears and hands (I kept my gloves in my pocket). I had no desire to shoot pictures, and lit a cigarette to be doing something; I think it was that moment when the match was about to touch the tobacco that I saw the young the river watching the red
occurring to
boy
me
to think
for the first time.
What
I'd
thought was a couple seemed
mother, although
at the
and
that
see
them leaning up
squares.
2.
photographically of the scenes, nothing
it
was a couple
As
I
same time
I
much more now
realized that
in the sense that
it
we always
a
boy with
was not a kid and
his
allegate to couples
his
mother,
when we
embracing on the benches in the had more than enough time to wonder
against the parapets or
had nothing
else to do,
I
Guillaume Apollinaire (1880-1918), avant-garde French poet who experimented with typographiand calhgraphic outrageousness as well as unusual verbal associations. 3. Residence of the
cal
British
Prime Minister.
a
92
Julio Cortazar
why
young colt or a hare, them out immediately, one after the
the boy was so nervous, Uke a
his pockets, taking
changing
gers through his hair,
his stance,
sticking his
hands into
running
other,
his fin-
and especially why was he
afraid,
you could guess that from every gesture, a fear suffocated by his sh\ness, an impulse to step backwards which he telegraphed, his body standing as if it were on the edge of flight, holding itself back in a final, pitiful decorum. well,
was so
All this
clear, ten feet
of the island
at the tip
the blond
alone against the parapet
beginning the boy's
Now, thinking back on
ver)' well.
second when
away— and we were
— that at the
it, I
me
fright didn't let
much
see her
better at that
see first
read her face (she'd turned around suddenly, swinging like a
I
metal weathercock, and the eyes, the eyes were there),
when
I
vaguely under-
would be worth the trouble to stay and watch (the wind was blowing their words away and they were speaking in a low murmur). I think that know how to look, if it's somestood what might have been occurring to the boy and figured
it
I
thing
I
know, and
which expels us
also that everv looking oozes with mendacit},
to smell, or (but
Michel rambles on
him harangue on this seen beforehand, it becomes between looking and the As
And
itself
for the
up
surely
boy
later),
all
reality
that
is
while
now
better than the image.
I
looked
it's
that
whereas
himself easily enough, there's no need if
the likely inaccuracy can be
possible again to look; perhaps
remember
I
to
way). In any case,
to let
clothing.
because
furthest outside ourselves, without the least guarantee,
at, to strip
things of
it
all
suffices to
choose
their unnecessary-
difficult besides.
the image before his actual body (that will clear
am
sure that
remember
I
She was thin and willowy, two
the
woman's body much
unfair words to describe
what she was, and was wearing an almost-black fur coat, almost long, almost handsome. All the morning's wind (now it was hardly a breeze and it wasn't cold) had blown through her blond hair which pared away her white, bleak
face— two
unfair
words— and put
the world at her feet and horribly alone in the
front of her dark eyes, her eyes fell
on things
like
two eagles, two leaps into
nothingness, two puffs of green slime. I'm not describing anything,
matter of
tr\'ing to
understand
it.
And
I
said
it's
more
a
hvo puffs of green slime.
fair, the boy was well enough dressed and was sporting yellow glo\es would ha\'e sworn belonged to his older brother, a student of law or sociolog}-; it was pleasant to see the fingers of the gloves sticking out of his jacket pocket. For a long time I didn't see his face, barely a profile, not stupid— terrified bird, a Fra Filippo"* angel, rice pudding with milk — and the back of an
Let's
which
be
I
adolescent
who wants
an idea or his
to take up judo and has had a scuffle or two Turning fourteen, perhaps fifteen, one would
sister.
was dressed and fed
b\'
his parents but
without
debate with his buddies before making up his
pack of cigarettes. He'd walk through the about how good
it
would be
to
go
to the
defense of
he
a nickel in his pocket, ha\ ing to
mind
streets
in
gue.ss that
to
buy
a coffee, a cognac, a
thinking of the
movies and see the
girls in his class,
latest film, or to
buy novels or neckties or bottles of liquor with green and white labels on them. home (it would be a respectable home, lunch at noon and romantic land-
At
4.
Fra Filippo Lippi (14067-1469), Florentine painter of the early Renaissance.
Blow-Up T 93 mahogany umbrella stand inside mama's hope,
scapes on the walls, with a dark entry-way and a
the door) there'd be the slow rain of time, for studying, for being
looking like dad, for writing to his aunt in Avignon. So that there was a
for
of walking the streets, the whole of the river for
him
the mysterious city of fifteen-year-olds with
signs in doorways,
cats, a
paper of fried potatoes for
its
thirty francs, the
(but without a nickel) its
terrifying
pornographic magazine folded
four ways, a solitude like the emptiness of his pockets, the eagerness for so that
was incomprehensible but illumined by a
ogous
to the
wind and the
lot
and
much
by the availability anal-
total love,
streets.
This biography was of the boy and of any boy whatsoever, but
this particular
one now, you could see he was insular, surrounded solely by the blond's presence as she continued talking with him. (I'm tired of insisting, but two long ragged ones just went by. That morning I don't think I looked at the sky once, because what was happening with the boy and the woman appeared so soon I could do nothing but look at them and wait, look at them and .) To cut it short, the boy was agitated and one could guess without too much trouble what .
had
just
occurred a few minutes before, at most half-an-hour.
onto the
woman
tip
of the island, seen the
was waiting
for that
woman and
.
The boy had come The
thought her marvelous.
because she was there waiting
maybe
for that, or
boy arrived before her and she saw him from one of the balconies or from
and got out
meet him,
to
starting the conversation with whatever,
the
a car
from the
beginning she was sure that he was going to be afraid and want to run
off, and and sullen, pretending experience and the pleasure of the adventure. The rest was easy because it was happening ten feet away from me, and anyone could have gauged the stages of the game, the derisive, competitive fencing; its major attraction was not that it was happening but in foreseeing its denouement. The boy would tr)' to end it by pretending a date, an
that, naturally,
he'd
stay, stiff
obligation, whatever,
and would go stumbling
off disconcerted, wishing
he were
walking with some assurance, but naked under the mocking glance which
would follow him
until
he was out of
Or
sight.
rather,
fascinated or simply incapable of taking the initiative,
begin to touch his face gently, muss his hair,
soon would take him by the arm
beginning
to tinge the
edge of
desire,
arm around her
have happened, though
it
making the
off,
Strange their youth)
that
my
at
voicelessly,
and
and
waist
to kiss her.
Any
of this could
settings
almost without looking
at the
an
camera, ready
uncommon
to take
couple talking
one another.
how
the scene (almost nothing: two figures there
was taking on a disquieting aura.
photo,
would have
him
unless he, with an uneasiness
did not, and perversely Michel waited, sitting on the
a picturesque shot of a corner of the island with
and looking
talking to
stay there,
woman would
even his stake in the adventure, would
rouse himself to put his
railing,
still
him
to lead
he would
and the
if
I
liked to
shot
it,
I
thought
would reconstitute things
know what he was
thinking, a
the wheel of a car parked on the dock
it
was
I
mismatched imposing
it,
in their true stupidity.
man
in
and I
in a grey hat sitting at
which led up to the footbridge, and I had just discovered him because
whether he was reading the paper or asleep.
people inside a parked car have a tendency to disappear, they get
lost in that
^v*i^
94 T
Julio Cortazar
wretched, private cage stripped of the beauty
And
bench. Never
and the
part) of the
feel that
the wall,
I
became aware of whai
malicious sensation of waiting
in profile, and he w dominated him, it seemed like s once, a whip of feathers), crushing
all at
one hand taking teen, a sighting
I
foi
smoothly, putting th
saw them almost
yet she
tree,
th
car: like sa)
wind, sunlight, those
like saying
woman had swung around
laugh,
A
and also the boy and the woman, show it to me in another way. Finall)
island, to
and
isle.
eyes,
with the newspaper also
me,
had been there
nevertheless, the car
deforming that
through the
a stroll
air.
Why
which would not include the
necessary to break
up too much grey
spaci
raised the camera, pretended to study a
foi
and waited and watched closely, sure that I u expression, one that would sum it all up, life th which a stiff image destroys, taking time in cr the essential imperceptible fraction of it. I did n was getting on with the job of handcuffing the 1 what was left of his freedom a hair at a time, in torture. I imagined the possible endings (no' almost alone in the sky), I saw their arrival at tl probably, which she would have filled with larg tured the boy's terror and his desperate decisioi pretending there was nothing close
my eyes,
I
new
in
it
for
him
set the scene: the teasing kisses
hands which were trying
to
a lilac-colored comforter,
undress her, like in
on the other hand
s!
Blo'
Before she
left,
and now
I'm given to ruminating,
that she
would
decided not
I
my
fill
imaginings for
sev(
moment more.
to lose a
I
^
the view-finder (with the tree, the railing, the eleven-o'clock sun) shot. In
time
me, the boy surprised and and body
;
they both had noticed and stood thei
to realize that
though questioning, but she was
as
flat-footedly hostile, feeling robbed,
irrita
ignominiously record