Joyce: "The Dead" (Part II)

When Gabriel Conroy finally arrives, in "The Dead," a little shit hits the fan:

“Is it snowing again, Mr. Conroy?” asked Lily.

She had preceded him into the pantry to help him off with his overcoat. Gabriel smiled at the three syllables she had given his surname and glanced at her. She was a slim, growing girl, pale in complexion and with hay-coloured hair. The gas in the pantry made her look still paler.
Gabriel had known her when she was a child and used to sit on the lowest step nursing a rag doll.

“Yes, Lily,” he answered, “and I think we're in for a night of it.”

He looked up at the pantry ceiling, which was shaking with the stamping and shuffling of feet on the floor above, listened for a moment to the piano and then glanced at the girl, who was folding his overcoat carefully at the end of a shelf. “Tell me, Lily,” he said in a friendly tone, “do you still go to school?”

“O no, sir,” she answered. “I'm done schooling this year and more.”

“O, then,” said Gabriel gaily, “I suppose we'll be going to your wedding one of these fine days with your young man, eh? “

The girl glanced back at him over her shoulder and said with great bitterness: “The men that is now is only all palaver and what they can get out of you.”

Gabriel coloured, as if he felt he had made a mistake and, without looking at her, kicked off his goloshes and flicked actively with his muffler at his patent-leather shoes.

The passage reminds me of "Our Town," which is another piece about finding beauty and drama in apparently quotidian events.

Lily--attempting to make conversation--asks something banal, about the weather. Immediately, there's subtext happening: Gabriel is smiling to himself about how Lily stretches out the name "Conroy," which maybe suggests a class difference, or something about Lily's girlishness.

Then something juicy happens. Gabriel, thinking he is being friendly, engages Lily in a chat about her private life. Lily is still sort of a child to Gabriel--he indulges fond memories of her rag doll--so it doesn't really occur to Gabriel that Lily may have ever encountered real, adult pain. He asks about "a wedding one of these fine days," perhaps congratulating himself on how playful and charming he is.

And Lily responds with one of my favorite lines: "The men that is now is only all palaver and what they can get out of you." So delightful! Notice that Lily doesn't bother to answer Gabriel's question. And she is so swept up in her sudden wave of bitterness, she can't be bothered with grammar. "The men that is now"....can't you see the girl "with hay-coloured hair," overcome with anger? Lily's hyperbole--"they is only all palaver and what they can get out of you"--betrays the fact that she is still growing. She thinks she is being wise and knowing with this observation, but actually she is being childishly melodramatic. (Even though she hasn't answered Gabriel's question directly, she has given him all the info he needs--and more.)

The vignette ends perfectly: Gabriel, flustered with himself, needs to find something to "take out" his frustration on. He flicks "actively at his patent-leather shoes." Those shoes are like whipping-boys. Joyce has a vivid dream, and he brings it to life for us.

How to Host a Baby

-You have assumed responsibility for a mewling, puking ball of life, a yellow-lab pup. He will spit his half-digested kibble all over your shoes, all over your hard-cover edition of Jennifer Haigh's novel Faith . He will eat your tables, your chairs, your "I {Heart] Montessori" magnet, placed too low on the fridge. When you try to watch Bette Davis in Hush Hush Sweet Charlotte , on your TV, your dog will bark through the murder-prologue, for no apparent reason. He will whimper through Lena Dunham's Girls , such that you have to rewind several times to catch every nuance of Andrew Rannells's ad-libbing--and, still, you'll have a nagging suspicion you've missed something. Your dog will poop on the kitchen floor, in the hallway, between the tiny bars of his crate. He'll announce his wakefulness at 5 AM, 2 AM, or while you and another human are mid-coitus. All this, and you get outside, and it's: "Don't let him pee on my tulips!" When...

Raymond Carver: "What's in Alaska?"

Outside, Mary held Jack's arm and walked with her head down. They moved slowly on the sidewalk. He listened to the scuffing sounds her shoes made. He heard the sharp and separate sound of a dog barking and above that a murmuring of very distant traffic. She raised her head. "When we get home, Jack, I want to be fucked, talked to, diverted. Divert me, Jack. I need to be diverted tonight." She tightened her hold on his arm. He could feel the dampness in that shoe. He unlocked the door and flipped the light. "Come to bed," she said. "I'm coming," he said. He went to the kitchen and drank two glasses of water. He turned off the living-room light and felt his way along the wall into the bedroom. "Jack!" she yelled. "Jack!" "Jesus Christ, it's me!" he said. "I'm trying to get the light on." He found the lamp, and she sat up in bed. Her eyes were bright. He pulled the stem on the alarm and b...

My Favorite Pop Song

One thing I admire about Prince is his weirdly pretentious verses: Dream, if you can, a courtyard-- An ocean of violets in bloom. Also: Touch, if you will, my stomach. Feel how it trembles inside. No one else writes like this. Did people try to shoot down these choices? Did a producer say, "We'd like to rethink this one... Touch, if you will, my stomach...." I can't help but wonder. But it's the chorus that makes this a classic. It's direct and universal--and it ends with that bizarre flourish, the allusion to "the crying doves." (Prince's song was number one in America for quite a while; it defeated Bruce Springsteen's "Dancing in the Dark.") How can you just leave me standing-- Alone in a world that's so cold? Maybe I'm just too demanding. Maybe I'm just like my father--too bold. Maybe you're just like my mother; She's never satisfied. Why do we scream at each other? This is what it sounds like when doves cr...

Liars and Saints

Search This Blog