Skip to main content

A Summer Friendship

 The best essay I read this summer was "A Fine Nomance," by Elinor Lipman (you're correct that she invented a word), and it's about dating after your husband has died:


At 59, I was a new widow writing a novel about a new widow who was socially maladroit. When her story started to stagnate, I knew I had to get her out of the house. Me, too. I signed us both up for Match.com.

Dates followed. Not all were horrible, but the reporter in me liked the worst ones for their anecdotal value. There was the man who stuck his Nicorette gum under his seat, the 70-ish actor who had been among the six husbands of one of the “Golden Girls” and the guy who asked proudly if I had noticed that he stirred his coffee without the spoon touching the cup. I had not.

I decided to drop out. Just before hitting the “remove” button of Match.com, I remembered I was mining comically bad biographical bits for fictional use and should stick with it. For the first time in weeks, I checked that day’s menu of allegedly suitable suitors and spotted Jonathan, who looked nice and geographically convenient to my New York City block.....


I actually spent most of my summer reading Elinor Lipman: "I Can't Complain," "On Turpentine Lane," "The Inn at Lake Devine," "My Latest Grievance." I recommend each and every one: smart, clear-eyed, surprising, funny, fast-paced. Elinor was My Summer Writer.


In "A Fine Nomance," Lipman recalls being widowed, and finding herself in need of companionship. The subtext is that she doesn't really want to let go of her marriage. So, on dates, she isn't actually "present": She is using her reporter brain to catalog weird quirks in her guy's behavior. (If you're a writer, you've been guilty of this particular bit of trickery, as well.)


What I find so engaging is that Lipman is willing to show her flaws; she will dismiss someone for being "unduly athletic," or for being "vegetarian." She'll entertain herself by quietly mocking a man who takes pride in his coffee consumption, and she'll prod herself to use new people for material. Someone willing to be so ugly--so human--in print .... must be honest. Wouldn't you want to spend time with her?


I won't say where the essay goes, except to note that the various twists are moving and startling--as Lipman's writing just tends to be. I loved my months with her this year. I'm glad I finally poked myself--and forced myself to check out her books.

Labels:

Comments

Post a Comment

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...
3 comments
Read more

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...
2 comments
Read more

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...
Post a Comment
Read more