Skip to main content

The Booker Prize: 2022

 Elizabeth Strout gets linked with Hemingway; both writers use the white space to say things that words can't say. Famously, Hemingway's "Hills Like White Elephants" looks at abortion from several angles--and yet the word "abortion" never appears in the text. In Strout's "Oh William," two people burdened by grief are on a trip together; although grief rarely gets named or addressed, it's lurking in every scene.


Strout may win the Booker Prize within the next few weeks. Until her forties, she had never published a novel. Now, in her sixties, she publishes a new book every year. We're talking about five years in a row.

"Oh William" has a narrator, Lucy Barton, whose husband has died. In mourning, Lucy hears from an *earlier* husband, William. William can be a chore; he wears his khakis too short, and he is palpably insecure about his job. Also, he has a slight mean streak; he finds exactly the right way to embarrass Lucy, then he zooms in on his target. (Lucy, a success story with humble origins, feels really moved by any kind of luxury, and she is known to kiss tulips at dinner parties. William knows a reminder of this will take Lucy back to her mortifying, painful childhood--so, in a bad moment, he says, "Do you remember when you kissed the tulips at your party? So weird....Not that it was a real dinner party.....You wouldn't be *capable* of hosting a real dinner party....")

Lucy, a poet, feels stunned by the world around her. She finds herself shopping in a New York boutique next to a woman who has badly wounded William. Although Lucy wants to scold this woman, she discovers herself saying, "Do what you need to do. You don't need to worry about the rest of us." The woman turns to Lucy and says, "Thank you. Everyone focuses on the person who is abandoned. No one knows that the person who *leaves* the marriage is hurting, too...." Lucy is touched by this exchange--but, days later, she sees her confidant talking in an animated way with an older man, and a wave of hatred comes rushing back. "We are all mysteries to one another."

People say "books about loneliness can sometimes make you feel less alone." That's the impact "Oh William" had on me. An odd, truthful story about living in New York in the years after 9/11. I don't know if it's headed toward a Booker, but I wouldn't mind that outcome.
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

The Death of Bergoglio

  It's frustrating for me to hear Bergoglio described as "the less awful pope"--because awful is still awful. I think I get fixated on ideas of purity, which can be juvenile, but putting that aside, here are some things that Bergoglio could have done and did not. (I'm quoting from a survivor of sexual abuse at the hands of the Church.) He could levy the harshest penalty, excommunication, against a dozen or more of the most egregious abuse enabling church officials. (He's done this to no enablers, or predators for that matter.) He could insist that every diocese and religious order turn over every record they have about suspected and known abusers to law enforcement. Francis could order every prelate on the planet to post on his diocesan website the names of every proven, admitted and credibly accused child molesting cleric. (Imagine how much safer children would be if police, prosecutors, parents and the public knew the identities of these potentially dangerous me...
1 comment
Read more

Raymond Carver: "What's in Alaska?"

Outside, Mary held Jack's arm and walked with her head down. They moved slowly on the sidewalk. He listened to the scuffing sounds her shoes made. He heard the sharp and separate sound of a dog barking and above that a murmuring of very distant traffic.  She raised her head. "When we get home, Jack, I want to be fucked, talked to, diverted. Divert me, Jack. I need to be diverted tonight." She tightened her hold on his arm. He could feel the dampness in that shoe. He unlocked the door and flipped the light. "Come to bed," she said. "I'm coming," he said. He went to the kitchen and drank two glasses of water. He turned off the living-room light and felt his way along the wall into the bedroom. "Jack!" she yelled. "Jack!" "Jesus Christ, it's me!" he said. "I'm trying to get the light on." He found the lamp, and she sat up in bed. Her eyes were bright. He pulled the stem on the alarm and b...
1 comment
Read more