At Christmas, it's nice to remember Maile Meloy's story, "O Tannenbaum":
It was a fine tree, Everett's daughter agreed. His wife said it was lopsided and looked like a bush. But that was part of its fineness--it was a tall, lopsided Douglas fir, bare on one side where it had crowded out its neighbor. The branchless side could go against the living room wall, the bushy side was for decorations, and now the crowded tree in the woods had room to grow. Everett dragged their find through the snow by the trunk, and Anne Marie, who was four, clung to the upper branches and rode on her stomach, shouting, "Faster, Daddy!"
What a way to establish a mood! Everett's wife maybe has a point about the tree, but Everett isn't really listening; we might wonder if this is a marriage with staying power. (And does Everett possibly identify with the "crowded" tree in need of "room to grow"?)
It's also striking that the prize tree has two faces--one to be presented to the world (the bushy side), and one to be hidden against the wall (the branchless side). Everett, like the tree, like the main guy in Chekhov's "Lady with the Dog," has two faces of his own: one for his wife, and one for Bonnie (whom we'll meet soon). "Both Ways Is The Only Way I Want It."
The last thing to notice is the chaos that Anne Marie adds--"Faster, Daddy!"--since this will prove to be a story *mainly about* chaos. It's a story where adults will behave in childish ways. ("Faster, Daddy!")
Meloy abandoned this story for several years, then returned to it to make it the germ of one of her most successful books. It's not your typical Christmas story. It actually features possible outlaws called "Bonnie" and "Clyde." I love how detailed and authoritative and tense the writing is, right away. It would be nice to see another Meloy collection very soon.
P.S. It's also striking that Everett is aligned with his daughter--against his wife--already within the first two sentences. Everett is on the side of childhood, childishness...
It was a fine tree, Everett's daughter agreed. His wife said it was lopsided and looked like a bush. But that was part of its fineness--it was a tall, lopsided Douglas fir, bare on one side where it had crowded out its neighbor. The branchless side could go against the living room wall, the bushy side was for decorations, and now the crowded tree in the woods had room to grow. Everett dragged their find through the snow by the trunk, and Anne Marie, who was four, clung to the upper branches and rode on her stomach, shouting, "Faster, Daddy!"
What a way to establish a mood! Everett's wife maybe has a point about the tree, but Everett isn't really listening; we might wonder if this is a marriage with staying power. (And does Everett possibly identify with the "crowded" tree in need of "room to grow"?)
It's also striking that the prize tree has two faces--one to be presented to the world (the bushy side), and one to be hidden against the wall (the branchless side). Everett, like the tree, like the main guy in Chekhov's "Lady with the Dog," has two faces of his own: one for his wife, and one for Bonnie (whom we'll meet soon). "Both Ways Is The Only Way I Want It."
The last thing to notice is the chaos that Anne Marie adds--"Faster, Daddy!"--since this will prove to be a story *mainly about* chaos. It's a story where adults will behave in childish ways. ("Faster, Daddy!")
Meloy abandoned this story for several years, then returned to it to make it the germ of one of her most successful books. It's not your typical Christmas story. It actually features possible outlaws called "Bonnie" and "Clyde." I love how detailed and authoritative and tense the writing is, right away. It would be nice to see another Meloy collection very soon.
P.S. It's also striking that Everett is aligned with his daughter--against his wife--already within the first two sentences. Everett is on the side of childhood, childishness...
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