Between Here and Here

My favorite short story is "Between Here and Here," by Amy Bloom.

Bloom borrows a fair amount from Jane Austen, who was interested in the struggles of a sensible person in the company of a lunatic. (See Elizabeth in "Pride and Prejudice," or Elinor in "Sense and Sensibility.")

"Between Here and Here" has Alison, a tough, reasonable human being, who struggles in the presence of her boorish father, Alvin. It's not that Alvin ever physically attacks anyone. But he is unhappy and unpleasant; he makes mess after mess after mess.

Moments I love: Alvin's son tentatively comes out of the closet. Alvin's wife cries and says something appropriate. Alvin, by contrast, pokes his son's large stomach and says, "Fat fag....No fun in that." (And so Alvin has insulted both his son's sexual orientation and his son's girth, in one breath. Makes my jaw drop!)

Alvin gets irritated at the dinner table, and throws the creamed onions all over the floor. Later, as his wife cleans the mess, Alvin mutters, "I could fucking break my neck on that," as if it's somehow the wife's fault that creamed onions are rolling all over the floor.

When his wife dies, Alvin raids her jewelry and sells all the nicest pieces, before offering the dregs to the kids. Months later, having forgotten this meanness, Alvin expresses wonder when his daughter says she doesn't have access to a certain prized necklace. He shakes his head and says, "You really ought to have been careful about holding onto that."

Alison's life is a struggle: When should she hold her tongue? When should she bite back? (One time, she tries to plan the week ahead, and she acknowledges that she may spend at least half the week in jail, if she snaps and murders Alvin.)

There's a twist toward the end of the story, and it's this: Alvin seems to soften. It may be the result of dementia. It may be the result of a skilled new nurse, a person Alvin actually likes. The air clears. It's possible to sit in a room with Alvin and have a reasonably pleasant time. ("You're no Julia Child," he says to his daughter, not unkindly. She has just toasted a grilled-cheese sandwich.)

Alison has to pull herself together in the presence of her father's bizarre new civility: Should all be forgiven? Should Alison try to feel compassion, when she hasn't felt compassion in this particular setting, in years? What do you do with your anger, which might be bottomless....anger that actually takes your breath away?

Amy Bloom has said that other people are a mystery--it's a lesson she learned from the "George and Martha" picture books--and you see this at the end of "Between Here and Here." Alison is floored by her father's vulnerability. She seems to be questioning everything, all at once. And there isn't any more resolution. We leave her here.

I'm really moved by that. I think life can seem monotonous and predictable, and things don't have to be that way. Painful surprises are still surprises. There is some kind of value in the pain.

All of this is discussed--artfully, and even with a sense of humor--in Bloom's great story.

https://www.narrativemagazine.com/issues/winter-2010/fiction/between-here-and-here-amy-bloom

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