Skip to main content

George and Martha

Just a “fan girl” moment for “The Tub.”

George has an interest in snooping. Part of his snooping involves a glimpse of nude Martha, who is in the tub. (There might be erotic interest here, or not, and it’s just one of life’s mysteries that James Marshall has given us.)

Martha catches George “in the act."

Outraged, the lady sends the dude a clear message. A violation of a boundary will result in action: George is clobbered “via tub.” Like Mother with Son, Martha makes the message explicit: “We’re friends, sure, but there is such a thing as privacy.”

*The story has the perfect pace. I think it’s four sentences long. Not a word is wasted: Marshall doesn’t spell out what his illustrations have already made clear.
*Chekhov said: “If you put a gun in Act One, it needs to get fired in Act Five.” Marshall puts the tub in the title--and he delivers ... he gives us that tub, in a big way, in the final scene.
*Chekhov said: “A story needs only a He and a She.” Both of Marshall’s characters are unforgettable: the possibly horny snooper, and the indignant, tub-wielding voice of civilization.

It’s inspiring how much Marshall could do with very, very little.

P.S. Also, notice how much “work” the literal, actual tub does in the story. (1) It’s the setting of the story. (2) It’s a weapon; by clobbering George with the tub, Martha makes her frustration known. (3) It’s a blindfold! It covers George’s eyes, in the end, and protects Martha’s privacy (or what remains of her privacy).

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

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...

Joshie

  When I was growing up, a class birthday involved Hostess cupcakes. Often, the cupcakes would come in a shoebox, so you could taste a leathery residue (during the party). Times change. You can't bring a treat into a public school, in 2024, because heaven knows what kind of allergies might lurk, in unseen corners, in the classroom. But Joshua's teacher will allow: a dance party, a pajama day, or a guest reader. I chose to bring a story for Joshua's birthday (observed), but I didn't think through the role that anxiety might play in this interaction. We talk, in this house, quite a bit about anxiety; one game-changer, for J, has been a daily list of activities, so that he knows exactly what to expect. He gets a look of profound satisfaction when he sees the agenda; it doesn't really matter what the specific events happen to be. It's just about knowing, "I can anticipate X, Y, and Z." Joshua struggled with his celebration. He wore his nervousness on his f...

Josh at Five

 Joshie's project is "flexibility"; the goal is to see that a plan is just an idea, not a gospel, not a guarantee. This is difficult. Yesterday, we went to a restaurant--billed as "open," with unlocked doors--and the owner informed us of an "error in advertising." But Joshie couldn't accept the word "closed." He threw himself on the floor, then climbed on the furniture. I felt for the owner, until he nervously made a reference to "the glass windows." He imagined that my child might toss himself through a sealed window, like Mary Katherine Gallagher, or like Bruce Willis, in "Die Hard." Then--thank the Lord!--I was able to laugh. The thing that really has therapeutic value for Joshie is: a firetruck. If we are out in public, and he spots a parked truck, he wants to climb on each surface. He breathlessly alludes to the wheels, the door, the windows. If an actual fire station ("fire ocean," in Joshie's parla...