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For Readers







 At the start of James Marshall's hippo career, Marshall wrote a story, "Split Pea Soup," with an indelible image.


The story has George awkwardly accepting Martha's pea soup, which he doesn't actually want. He can't find words to turn down the soup, so he takes it and he pours it--covertly--into his loafers. This setup is a knockout for a few reasons: the idea of George in squishy loafers, the picture of two hippos together at the table, the revelation that Martha herself hates the soup. (She just likes to *cook* it.)


But the resolution seems a bit false to me. After Martha discovers the truth, there is a heart-to-heart, and all is set to rest. It seems to me that actual life doesn't often work this way.


At the very end of Marshall's career, Marshall *revisited* the soup situation. In the story "The Clock," it's *Martha* who gets the unwanted gift. Martha gets an obnoxious cuckoo clock.


Like George in earlier years, Martha can't find words to "state her truth." So she just pretends to like the clock, then she hides it at the bottom of a hamper. (Soup poured into loafers.)


Here's where things shift. George never finds out the truth. George continues to believe that Martha loves the clock--and that Martha's act of *lending* the clock is really just a moment of selflessness, generosity. How kind! How *big* of Martha!


George sits in his drawing room and enjoys "Martha's" clock-on-loan. He is happy to have such a magnanimous friend. And the clock has the final word, and it's: "Cuckoo."


This act of revision seems brilliant to me. The resulting story seems to be real life on the page, lightning in a bottle.

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