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Yurt / Curb

Some annotations on the start of the great story, "Yurt," from "Ms. Hempel Chronicles"--

A year ago, Ms. Duffy, the fifth-grade English and history teacher, had come very close to losing it, what with her homeroom being right next to the construction site for the new computer lab, and her attempts to excise the Aztecs from the curriculum being thwarted, and her ill-advised affair with Mr. Polidori coming to an end. (This is a classic Jane Austenish opening. Why? Because it’s slightly ironic. “Very close to losing it”--? Come on. This is the over-heated language of the faculty lounge. I love the dual-consciousness of the writing—the idea that Shun-Lien Bynum is quietly mocking her characters while also embodying their point of view. I also love the way that things are ordered: the affair of the heart, the thing that really matters, one imagines, is the thing that comes last! It’s placed on the same plane—or even slightly below!—the problem of the construction site and the thorny issue of Aztecs in the curriculum. Aztecs in the curriculum. Love it!)
 She had come very close—or at least that was the general opinion among both the middle- and upper-school faculty, and who was Ms. Hempel to disagree? But now, upon her return, Ms. Duffy looked unrecognizably happy. It was the first week of May, and she was holding court in the teachers’ lounge, her hair nearly down to her waist and her big belly protruding over her lap. Above the belly, Ms. Duffy laughed and swayed and gestured freely with her hands, as if to say, “What—this old thing?” (The definition of a short story: A stranger comes to town. And I love that this is not Boy-Meets-Girl, it’s not a sheriff wandering into a lawless zone; it’s a miserable teacher feeling gnawing envy about her colleague. And I love the quiet hint that Ms. Duffy is maybe not entirely to be trusted. Pregnancy—“this old thing?” Give me a break. There seems to be a gap between Ms. Duffy’s inner life and her behavior.)

Ms. Hempel couldn’t take her eyes off it. It looked as tough as a gourd.
“Yemen is magical,” Ms. Duffy was telling the handful of teachers who happened to have fourth period free. “Just unbelievable. The pictures don’t capture it at all.”


A stack of dun-colored photographs was circulating around the room. After her difficult year, Ms. Duffy had sublet her apartment and struck out for the ancient world. There had been long and poetic e-mails, reasonably free of gloating—they were full of figs, marketplaces, bare feet against cool tiles, shuttered naps at noon. In between classes, Ms. Hempel had stood in front of the faculty bulletin board and read about Ms. Duffy’s naps, trying to detect in these messages a note of melancholy, of homesickness. “Miss you all!!” Ms. Duffy would write in closing, but the absence of a subject, as well as the excessive punctuation, made the sentiment seem less than heartfelt. And then the e-mails had abruptly stopped. (This story is partly about the problem/difficulty of “reading other people.” We present ourselves with such care; we don’t want to gloat when we mention the figs and the shuttered naps. At the same time, when we interpret others’ behaviors and choices, we’re on the alert for subtext. Little things matter! The absence of a subject and the excessive punctuation—these signifiers are things we might pass over, but the writer says, Slow down. I will make you notice the world. As in another of her great stories, “Talent,” she’s interested in reawakening your sense of humor. And she does it with grace and sophistication.)




***



A word on "Mondo Freaks." That's the book Larry David buys for Ted Danson--bizarrely--as a gift, late in the run of "Curb Your Enthusiasm." Larry, like a little boy, laughs loudly and shows photos from the book to his friend, Jeff. (Jeff enjoys it, as well. Three legs! Two penises!) Ted is not amused. Worse still, at a fancy party: Ted won't let Larry's bored driver come in ("Just send him out a coffee!"), and Ted makes the wait staff wear bowties. None of this sits well with Larry, and when the driver does indeed come in, and proves to be (surprise!) very drunk, Larry is ejected from the celebration. The schlemiel is thrown out of Eden. But maybe it wasn't much of an Eden to begin with--given all its obnoxious unwritten laws.

There's a great fairy-tale quality to this episode. Larry transforms himself into a limo driver, and, in an effort to play the role, he finds himself asking inane questions: "Do you have allergies? What is your favorite season?" Meanwhile, the principals consider their deaths, and Jeff reveals that he can't be in the middle of a group burial plot, because he is claustrophobic; he needs room. Susie of course will not consent to be next to Larry David for eternity. And then there's the magical Paul McCartney concert; the unseen Rosemary's Baby-ish Heather Mills; the changeling situation in the back of the limo ("Am I driving John McEnroe? Am I driving this Spanish family?")

At its best, "Curb" reawakens your sense of wonder in the world. "Mondo Freaks" sounds charming. It's a great joy to see Larry and Jeff laughing--rudely--as they page through the volume and discover the riches this planet has to offer. Life can be monotonous and gray, but David reminds you there are still new things to explore!

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