. Spinning .

Good grief, do I miss phenomenal writing!  Yes, I suppose I must admit that the classics don’t become that without good reason.  I’m plodding my way through short story lit journals that shall remain nameless for now (after all, I AM planning on starting my writing career with their help!), but the language of McCarthy’s Suttree, the clever Dorothy Parker, are something while I’ve just laid down as finished, would gladly reread instead.

First off, this is Spinning post number 2001.  Neat eh?   Or is it time to shut up?

But not before I share this, a technique I found Dorothy Parker exercised in "The Lovely Leave" that of the fuchsia plant the protagonist bought that Parker described first as "graceful magenta bells" and followed her mood subsequently naming them as "vulgar" and finally, "exquisite."

And this tonight, in "Suttree":  "A wan midwinter sun hung low and oblong under the leeward fishshaped clouds.  A sun hotjowled and squat in the seeping lavender dusk.  Down this narrow street where the chinese sign glows green.  She is waiting, cupboarded in one of the high booths."

Has McCarthy ever described even the cleanest, brightest corner of Knoxville as anything near a notch above dismal?  Suddenly, because Suttree has gotten himself laid by a very nice, attractive woman, albeit prostitute, his world is described in the hopeful way that Suttree himself feels.

Either I’m an idiot making more of this than lies within the words, or McCarthy has just one-upped Parker.

When I picked up (borrowed from John) "The Portable Dorothy Parker," the first story I read–the first in the book–was "The Lovely Leave."  I was dumbstruck by the simple language, the useage that wove it into gold. 

The book is divided into several sections according to early stories and poems, later ones, and then reviews and articles.  I have just reached the end of the first section, which is about 60% of the book.  And in reading the last story in this section, I am once again awed.

Most of the stories are similar in their portrayal of the upper middle class to wealthy lifestyle of the forties and fifties, or follow the theme which barely hides Parker’s disdain of the intricate games and inequities of relationships.  But this final story, "Clothe the Naked" stands apart in depth of character that Parker has created, and her real knowledge and caring of society’s low income and black communities.

Briefly, the protagonist, Big Lannie, is a hardworking black woman who has lost husbands and children and is then saddled with caring for her newborn grandson who is unfortunately born blind.  She must give up her job in doing laundry for a set of regular wealthy customers to take care of little Raymond, and is helped as much as possible by neighbors. 

They get by, but barely.  Raymond grows into a loving, trusting child, and Big Lannie must leave him alone when she must take whatever jobs she can get to support them both.  Raymond loves the street and being outside the apartment, hearing the children play and calling out to the neighbors and listening to their laughter and cheer.  But one winter, when all she has to clothe him in is a dress, she is able to talk him into staying inside by pointing out the dangers of snow and ice.

Come spring, Raymond is anxious to go outside, and Big Lannie begs one of her employers for something to clothe him in.  An old suit and shoes is condescendingly given, and she gives these items to a gleeful Raymond, who is unaware of how poorly the much-too-large suit makes him look. 

Raymond goes out alone while Big Lannie is at work, and his excitement in preparing for the excursion is barely contained.  "As he folded the sleeves back over his thin arms, his heart beat so that the cloth above it fluttered."

He heard the laughter once again, but: 

"As quickly as he could, he gained the walk and set forth, guiding himself by the fence.  He could not wait; he called out, so that he would hear gay calls in return, he laughed so that laughter would answer him.  He heard it.  He was so glad that he took his hand from the fence and turned and stretched out his arms and held up his smiling face to welcome it.  He stood there, and his smile died on his face, and his welcoming arms stiffened and shook.  It was not the laughter he had known; it was not the laughter he had lived on.  It was like great flails beating him flat, great prongs tearing his flesh from his bones.  It was coming at him, to kill him."

Dear God.  We follow him running and falling and tearing his clothes to find his way back home, where Big Lannie finds him whimpering and moaning in a corner of the room. 

Did we know, did we suspect what would happen, and is the pain worse because as readers, there was nothing we could do. 

All right, I finally have ordered my own copy of "The Portable Dorothy Parker" (I’m on borrowed reading) because it is something that I would like to have on hand to remind myself of how to reveal character.  Although Parker’s opinion of mankind in her society of its time is evident in each story, and that’s pretty much a no-no I would think, to allow such writerly input, she has a clear understanding of human nature.  And, although the characters are very much of their era, some of humanity’s traits are enduring, modified but recognizable in any decade or century.

"The Custard Heart" is one of Parker’s rare pretty straight narrator-told stories, lacking much dialogue that often solely drive her plots.  It is about a woman who is described well in the opening line:  "No living eye, of human being or caged wild beast or dear, domestic animal had beheld Mrs. Lanier when she was not being wistful." 

The story continues with examples of our precious Mrs. Lanier, whose friends as well as servants mince around her in protection of her delicate sweetness and pure heart.  But this story, perhaps piled into those previously read, has convinced me more than ever why Dorothy Parker had to be a writer; I doubt that she could speak with the ever-present malady of tongue-in-cheek.  Here, after a traumatic day of seeing beggars on the city streets:

"Frequently, by the time she returned to her home, Mrs. Lanier would be limp as a freesia.  Her maid Gwennie would have to beseech her to lie down, to gain the strength to change her gown for a filmier one and descend to her drawing-room, her eyes darkly mournful, but her exquisite breasts pointed high."

There is a blend of a romantic language used with an updated sarcasm that is intrigueing and delightfully funny.  This is more evident in Parker’s poetry, where the prose is pure romance and the last line is current slang, or a reference that is more contemporary.  From "Tombstones In the Starlight", Stanza VI, "The Actress":

"Her name, cut clear upon this marble cross,
Shines, as it shone when she was still on earth;
While tenderly the mild, agreeable moss
Obscures the figures of her date of birth."

The women in Parker’s stories have much in common, whether from the high side of society or the low, and they differ only in their knowledge and handling of their situation of status.  It is the purpose of these women to catch men and keep them by being amiable and lovely.  Stiff upper lips, gaiety, good sports about everything and anything thrown to them by their men.  It was a need of the era; women were financially dependent upon men for the most part, and therefore felt obligated to please and be pleasing.

Parker depicts their maneuvering within their world in a sometimes bitter, sometimes sarcastic, sometimes poignant manner.  But the reader becomes involved in either cheering on the spirited, or sympathizing with the downtrodden, or even, I suppose, screaming at the bloody idiots who compromise themselves beyond the need.

But when Parker has laid out a fairly good relationship, whether the man and woman within it are real or not–they may each find contentment in getting back what they give to it–she finds another to heap unhappiness upon.

In "Horsie", the victim is a rather horse-faced nurse who stays with a young couple for eight weeks after the birth of their first baby.  Here, however, both husband and wife are unnecessarily cruel although outwardly properly polite to the nurse.  It is reminiscent of Daisy in "The Great Gatsby" that there is a self-centeredness and disdain for the nurse that is shown in their private conversations and derision of her appearance.   Meanwhile, the nurse is oblivious to their amusement and is thrilled by a gardenia corsage the husband brings her truly because he is so happy she is leaving.

There is a lot of feeling and underlying emotion within this story, especially when we as readers see something that the characters do not realize is going on.  The couple is oblivious and unaware of the nurse’s person, and the nurse is blissfully unaware of any need of our sympathy.

It is another well executed look into people’s minds and hearts as presented to us by Parker.

There’s much going through my head this morning about characters within a story and I’ll be posting more on it later, but I wanted to get the base down now–before I go write up sales slips and plant geraniums.

We are free as readers to form opinions of story characters, and are just as free to verbalize them without threat of slander.  Now we form opinions of real people as well, but it hopefully takes longer, and is done with a touch of polite conservative open-mindedness.  In building a character, a writer strives to make his protagonist real and likable–whether a good guy or a bad guy.  There is no doubt that Dorothy Parker’s characters are relative–even when they are from a now bygone era (as read in the present), and the relationships between protagonist and antagonist is where Parker shines as a writer.  We also see Parker’s personal opinions of them, and especially in a marital plot, as she blesses them with the worst traits and common pitfalls of man/woman interplay.

Cormac McCarthy’s characters are tougher to figure out.  We see many sides of them as he gradually puts them into a scenario and we must watch carefully to see how they react.  We’re unsure of Cornelius Suttree.  I like him; I see some good things in him as he helps his friends.  But there’s always the question:  Why did he desert his family, his wife and child, and why is there such hatred towards him from some of them?  Is it justified? 

By the time McCarthy brings in the death of Suttree’s young son, whom we didn’t know about until we hear the news, we are torn between his abandonment and the vicious reaction of his inlaws and the town when he goes for the funeral.  Much more than the normal reaction of divorce.  What did he do?  How big a bad-ass was he?

So we reserve judgement, and follow him more carefully, cautiously back home.  We watch, wait, and become totally involved in his life.

Dorothy Parker’s characters are real to me, perhaps because of the era, perhaps because, though this was not as my family lived, it was something I had watched in nightly movies on Channel 5′s The Early show.

McCarthy’s characters are real because of how they live; McCarthy building the character into his more vivid descriptions of their environment.  Again, this is not as I have ever lived, but Suttree indeed pulses with a life that is disturbing.  This must be, for me, its appeal.  The man, the place, the deeds done that mama warned about.  There’s hopelessness, yet one thin fishing line that will not break, and the patience of the fisherman to fight against the slapping sea and flapping fish to reel in something that would make the battle worth the while.

Well, a surprising touch of the bizarre from Dorothy Parker.

"Mrs. Hofstadter on Josephine Street" is a tale of a quiet couple hiring the services of chef/butler who came with glowing references, mostly given them by Horace (the butler) himself.  He soon wears thin his welcome when he takes over their lives, talking non-stop and quoting Mrs. Hofstadter on Josephine Street until they fire him (the climax) in a bid to regain their lives.  Parker ends the story with the possibility of renewed conflict when the telephone rings and Horace apologizes for "leaving" and promises to come back and take care of them again.

No, no hint of revenge or murder–although his return to service would be considered punishment and indeed, the couple would likely murder him–but one wonders what type of human Horace is, over and above being a giant pain in the ass. 

The bizarre here, is in the character as he upsets one of Parker’s stable, normal households.  After reading much of contemporary story  plots, I wonder if it is influencing me to catch something like this and merely turn it into more than what Parker originally presented.

So once again, not only is the story changed by the reader, but by the era it is read in, regardless of when it was written.  Interesting.

I don’t think I should be reading "The Portable Dorothy Parker" all the way through–many of the conversations are starting to sound too much alike, and I feel like I’m lost in "The Early Show"  forever with Nick and Nora Charles. 

But this line is necessary to share with you, and makes any story worthwhile reading just to find such a gem.  From "Here We Are":  "There was a silence with things going on in it."

Oh boy.  Wish I’d have thought of that one.

Okay, so I’ll probably flunk Nutrition because there’s so much to read, so much to write.  No, not in the course–although that’s heavily overloaded with both, but in my choice of reading and my story-telling of writing.

And I didn’t think I’d linger in Parker’s poetry, but I found myself reading almost every one, though skipping through them until the irony, the bitter pungency of Parker’s wit caught me sharply in its grip.  I had to stop and appreciate it.  I don’t know that she’s any great poet but there are some ideas and language use, especially the ones on death that are truly novel and enjoyable.  There are so many, so many, but this one I’ve managed to find quickly, a stanza from "Braggart": 

"You will be pale and musty
With peering, furtive head,
Whilst I am young and lusty
Among the roaring dead."

But Parker’s forte is in the short story, and within that, in revealing character in her characters that they try their best to hide.  "The Wonderful Old Gentleman" is a story of a middle-aged couple, not wealthy, who are sitting with the wife’s sister, a well-to-do, well-married lady, in the couple’s living room waiting for their father to die. 

Parker’s description of scene in this story is overwhelming with details that are intriguing in their variety, and yet are necessary to set the tone of the story as well as to reveal the people who have chosen the items to display around the home.  Each piece comes alive:  "Just above him hung a steel engraving of a chariot race, the dust flying, the chariots careening wildly, the drivers ferociously lashing their maddened horses, the horses themselves caught by the artist the moment before their hearts burst, and they dropped in their traces."

And here, perhaps a lesson in writing story:  "a colored print, showing a railroad crossing, with a train flying relentlessly towards it, and a low, red automobile trying to dash across the track before the iron terror shattered it into eternity."   This piece, it is noted, makes guests uncomfortable.  Just as Parker’s story makes us feel since we are judging the two sisters by their conversation and how they play with words, skirting the real issues between them for sake of decorum.

Masterful.  Simply amazing how well Parker knows what to place where within the narrative.

Honestly, I’ll get beyond the first story in this anthology, but this one technique has stuck in my head so I need to dump it into yours, especially since it is in keeping with my prior entry regarding omniscience of the narrator in describing feelings. 

These three mentions of a fuchsia plant the wife buys to pretty up the apartment in readiness of her husband’s leave:

"On the way back she passed a florist’s shop in the window of which were displayed potted fuchsia.  She made no attempt to resist them.  They were too charming, with their delicate parchment-colored inverted cups and their graceful magenta bells.  She bought six pots of them."

And after he has arrived, but gone in to take a bath:

"She went into the living room.  She stood, breathing heavily, her finger nails scarring her palms, as she looked at the fuchsia blossoms, with their dirty parchment-colored cups, their vulgar magenta bells."

Finally:

"When he had gone, she stood a moment by the fuchsia plants, touching delicately, tenderly, the enchanting parchment-colored caps, the exquisite magenta bells."

Parker shows us the changes in mood of the protagonist by the reappearance of the fuchsia plants, and the narrator’s description of them–but only as the protagonist herself would describe them at that moment.  There is no guesswork, no interference by the narrator, no input, just the thoughts straight out of the character’s mind.

One thing I just noticed in the typing of this, the word "cups" becomes "caps" in the last description.  It would be interesting to find if this is merely a typographical error in printing, or if indeed, Parker puts the "cap" on the story rather than leaving it open as it’s brewing in a "cup."  This would reveal even more thought put into the process of writing, yet so subtle.

Finally got started on "The Portable Dorothy Parker" and believe I made one mistake already.  I followed the normal mechanical method of bookreading, and started from the beginning.  The introduction, I think, gives too much away about the author and one can’t help but be influenced, as with Plath, to read author into the stories.  I much prefer reading something on its own–it would be obvious of course that we would place it time-wise and in other ways into its proper postion–to enjoy the story for itself, then read about the author afterwards when one is, for one reason or another, shaking one’s head and saying "who wrote this?"

Now I’ve learned to deconstruct story into its various elements, and being fresh from the course, may tend to get a bit too analytical here (I’ve finished the course journal where these things were hidden for many months!).  But, after just having read the first story, "The Lovely Leave," I am intrigued by Parker.  I’m sure I have read other works by her over the years, but can’t particularly recall them now.  The narrative structure is linear of a short timeline from a phone call announcing a husband’s 24-hour leave from military service during WW II, to the actual arrival, and then to the leave itself which carries the trauma of it being shortened down to a few hours at most. 

The plot structure is based upon this timeline, and the points of conflict are very much involved with the ticking of the clock.  It’s a fascinating ride via the wife’s introspection and self-resolve in the planning of the reunion of spikes of tension building and relaxing in tandem with her determination not to let the brevity of the visit bother her enough to ruin the visit.  And an interesting aspect of once again tying in time–a flashback to that previous visit, and better still, an almost exact repetition of it up until the very last moment of parting when the issue is resolved by a new communication between the couple.

I think the story is brilliant–though dated by the "wifely" concept of the woman left sitting home as her husband goes off to war.  But Parker’s understanding of human nature, and the sharp wit of sarcasm she gives her protagonist is most evident in the dialogue as well as the thoughts of the wife to which we are privy.

This is good writing.  I hope all the stories are as well-executed and interesting as this.