. Spinning .

It’s been quite an experience reading this anthology.  I’ve learned so much in watching Peter Taylor skillfully focus and bring out the innermost personality of his characters while weaving a setting that grounds the players together in an American South that is still reacting to the supposed liberation brought by the Civil War.  Yet there is still a war of sorts going on as society attempts to adjust to not only racial but gender bias that is just beneath the surface.

I’ve already written much about Taylor’s use of narrator, trustworthy or unreliable though he/she may be, and his intense work in allowing the reader to form opinions about the narrator and what is going on.  The stories aren’t usually featuring a major event that changes lives, but rather a normal situation that brings out the deeper feelings of the characters.

I’m ordering Taylor’s A Summons to Memphis, to see how he handles a longer narrative. I’m also planning on reading more of Taylor’s short stories and see what else I can hope to learn.   

This story perhaps more than any other illustrates Taylor’s method of characterization through character observation.  There is, as a matter of fact, very much "overhearing" thus giving us what may (if we assume narrator reliability, and that’s been a major factor with Taylor’s stories–to the good) be fact and how the narrator reacts to the event.

The story here is rather simple, though I think I’ve picked up something else on Taylor in that the protagonist is not always clearly selected at the beginning of the story.  Noticing the title, the Scoutmaster, we find fairly early on that Uncle Jake is the scoutmaster referenced.  Yet in the story, while he plays a major character, Virginia Ann appears to be the focus.  What I’m coming to believe is that Virginia is merely the "event" that brings everyone else’s characterizations more into definition as they react to her actions.

Uncle Jake then, steps up to plate as protagonist.  He is the mediator between the generation of the parents and their children.  We get his own background via conversations between Mother and Father, but we see into his soul via the child (nephew) narrator. 

Taylor does some truly amazing stuff with the simplest of story.  But it is the simple story of human nature with which we all can best relate.

The majority of Taylor’s stories in this anthology are set in the old South of Tennessee and therefore there is the constant of social status as well as the racial relations.  Taylor’s amazing insight coupled with his skill at exposing his characters brings a tremendously powerful impact on what is usually a fairly simple story line of interaction.

For example, in Porte Cochere, we are in the study of an elderly man who listens in on his grown children who are visiting for his birthday.  Here Taylor uses a standard he’s established of the protagonist revealing a personal opinion, one less than of high regard, of his offspring and we are into a battle of changing values brought with each generation.  What Taylor does give the reader in Porte Cochere however, is the reason for the man’s rancor.  In this case, his having been beaten by his father as a boy and his resolve to never be a father.  What happens here is more reinforcement of the character, as well as giving us a bit of background of which his own children are unaware, and which explains much of their opinion of him as well.

Some good lessons in character development to be learned here.

One of Taylor’s stories, Rain in The Heart, is particularly subtle and I realize that I need to go back and reread it in order to fully enjoy and get out of it what Taylor has so aptly put in.

I’ve been trying to put my finger on how Peter Taylor manages the deep character revelation he does while in such a subtle way, particularly by using the narrator voice to establish something often quite different than what the narrator says, or sometimes just in the way the narrator relates the story.

It’s been difficult to post examples because for one thing, Taylor builds a character very gradually and then further reading reinforces the point he is making.  Therefore, taking something out of context is sort of useless without dragging a good percentage of the story into the statement.  Going back is next to impossible to find the place where something is hinted at because again, the subtlety is easily missed.  But here’s one that kind of represents what I’m seeing.  This is from The Scoutmaster:

I used to hear Uncle Jake asking Father very gently why he was so "hard on" Virginia Ann and asking if he didn’t know that all "modern girls" were like that.  And I would sit and wonder why he was so hard on her.  (p. 267)

Now here’s a narrator who I’m guessing is a sibling of Virginia Ann who has spent the first few paragraphs of story telling the reader that a) Virginia Ann often uses trendy sentences that are in fashion at the time and b) Father and Mother are unable to "abide" this overuse.

But what we’re getting is so much more: Uncle Jake’s opinon, as well as his careful handling of the topic with his brother about his niece, and something even more important about the narrator, that he sides with Uncle Jake.  Taylor doesn’t say that, but it is implied by the straightforward "And I would sit and wonder, etc."   

Two more things: Everything is being "overheard," and Uncle Jake’s direct dialogue lays out the scenario more than Father confronting Virginia Ann–that means something right there about the parent/child relationship.  And this, that Father (and Mother) repeat phrases themselves, i.e., the word "abide" which is more obvious in the next paragraph:

Yet Mother’s groans were as loud as Father’s when they heard Virginia Ann greeting her date at the front door with "Well, well, well, if it isn’t my country cousin!"  I would turn my eyes to her and Father as soon as I heard Virginia Ann say this, for I knew it was one of the things they could not abide. 

Aunt Grace lives there too; a sister of Mother’s who has divorced her husband.  Grace also sticks up for Virginia Ann, but it is more obvious than her accusations might have us believe, that Mother and Father are proudest of their daughter and perhaps make these negative comments for the very purpose of being proven wrong and hearing praise as they themselves may be either too humble to offer, or too greedy for compliments on their skills as parents.

It’s all twisted in there, and Taylor makes us listen to his characters very carefully to glean the real story.

I believe this story is the first in the anthology to be written in third person pov, but Taylor’s method of indepth character revelation is just as powerful.

The protagonist is a middle-aged woman, Harriet, with a grown son and two daughters and a husband referred to as "Sweetheart."  It is similar to the others in that there is a false sense of holding no racial prejudice in that the people of this area of the South in this particular era felt there was a symbiotic relationship between blacks and whites and that that was the proper way of thinking about things.

Taylor demonstrates this concept through the woman’s relationship with her own black servant, Mattie.  She will hold and hug and console her, and yet when Mattie dares liken her nephew’s going off to service during the war, Harriet is outraged at the impertinence.

What Taylor also does well with the story plot–and this one had a bit more of a plot than the others–is purposefully leave his character into a kind of limbo with himself.  Not all of us change by being forced to face events and our own selves; not all stories need to show the character making a huge turnaround in his thinking.  This is, of course, a writing no-no, but it is also the most realistic display of human nature.

Just read this in this Taylor short story:

Now the sight of Son and Ann in this pretty frame only reminded her of their unnatural and strange relationship.  They were walking far apart and Ann was speaking with deliberation and gesturing as she spoke.  But apparently at the first glimpse of Harriet, Ann broke off speaking.  And Harriet perceived in an instant that there was at least a trouble of some kind in their relationship.  She recollected now that though Son had not been talking he had been shaking his head from side to side as though in exasperation.  (p. 220)

And even as I begin to wonder what is being discussed between them, what the mother sees that she describes as trouble, I realize that with Taylor’s writing, it’s very likely that I will not find out.  It is the characters and how they react to each other that matter, not necessarily cause, but rather, effect.

This was good.  A young boy as first person narrator describes his rather spoiled life with his older sister, widowed father, and housekeeper as he and his sister manipulate the adults.  He is aware of his own flaws and in particular points them out in his sister as she tries to live up to the image of an older girl she envies and admires.  There is that Taylor knack of saying one thing and yet giving the reader an impression of something very different.  We wonder if the boy, in seeing what his sister is doing, is going to break away from the stereotypical rich kid and yet each of them surprise us with what they end up doing at a time when they have a chance to change.

This story in the anthology was not particularly a favorite, although I suspect that the subtlety of characterization is outstanding. 

Again, first person pov, the narrator being a young serviceman visiting an old aunt who has been kept out of his family’s life because of some perceived injustice she’s committed against her sister, his mother.

Most likely this story is the high point of characterization and yet somehow I think I’ve missed it.

There is a wealth of information in their meeting, in the narrator’s view and interaction with his aunt.  But the conversation continues one-sided on the part of the aunt, the narrator acknowledging nods and such, that is somewhat disconcerting.  While it does not intrude upon the gradual change of opinion of the narrator, it does lack some freedom for the reader to decide the antagonist’s actions and character for himself.

Another point that may detract from the story is that the issue between the sisters that started the cold war has been built up enough to remain as an anticipated disclosure and there is the disappointment that it never becomes known to the reader.  Then again, it could be about anything, and Taylor may have intended to relay that point as well. I find myself torn between wanting to know and knowing that it is really not important to the story at all.

The next story in this collection is A Friend and Protector and while Taylor’s skill still shines in the area of character development and subtlety, this particular story didn’t wow me quite to the state that a couple of the other stories have. 

Taylor likes to show the relationship between blacks and whites of the south at a time between the abhorrence of slavery and the true rights and freedom that was not achieved for the century following the civil war. While many whites may still have harbored prejudice, many others tried to offer some sense of justice though by an overcompensation in ways that only made the difference more prominent. There is an ignorance that pervades even those who appear to be free of bias, and perhaps it is this that makes the characters more real.

Another story called A Walled Garden is an example of one of Taylor’s other favored themes, that being the relationship between parent and child.  There is an oddness about the way the first person narrator, a mother, describes her daughter to a young man. Just in the manner of its telling, the reader tends to take a closer look at the narrator rather than the character she is speaking of.  There is a glossing over, a sense that the teller of the story knows something is wrong and is making excuses for her (or his) own actions in explaining the outcome.

Maybe these two don’t quite measure up to the some of the other short stories here, but they are still well done.  Taylor’s use of language is elaborate, not depending upon imagery or drama as much as detail and full accounting of events in which his characters move.  Since he often uses the first person narrator to tell the story, we realize that the perception will be skewed and this is where Taylor is brilliant; in showing us the character of the narrator as she or he tells the story. 

The story is simple: A well-to-do man brings an old black man home to live in a room in the barn loft, where his butler and maid, a young black married couple already occupy two rooms and the only bathroom there along with their infant daughter.

The young woman, Emmaline, is outraged.  She is both frightened that they are being subtly pushed out because of the baby, and there is the deeper fear; the man represents the dirt poor family and town she’s left behind.  Emmaline is overly dramatic and frantic with her worries which enables her husband, Bert, to take advantage of her fears by reminding her of an old crazy woman they both remember from their childhood, and comparing her to the woman. 

Peter Taylor’s story’s are character driven, focusing on their foibles and flaws and his revelations come little by little, as he allows us to learn more and more about them.  What they say to each other is often not what they feel but rather much is done in a self-protective mode. 

Taylor brings the characters together in a moment of drama as the baby’s screaming cries wakes the three adults up and they try to console her.  Each is still struggling with their own emotions as they face each other.  The old man is finally the one to lull the baby quiet, but we finally get to see him as he is, another human being with his own fears to overcome.

Just an awesome story and one that will, like Promise of Rain, stay with me a long time.

Just got totally blown away by Taylor’s Bad Dreams. 

Leaves me speechless.

Wow.  Just caught the drift of Taylor’s genius at showing character.  In using the first person pov of the father describing his relationship with his son, there is an unreliability about the narrator not necessarily that he is hiding something within his words–that’s there too–but that his perception of the his son is way off from what we are experiencing.

The final pages here, the same scenario of Hugh desperately hoping for rain so that his reading will be broadcast instead of the game.  The sun disappears and a crash of thunder brings the anticipation to a resolution:

Hugh galloped across the hall into the living room and commenced disconnecting the batteries from the charger and hooking them up to the radio.  The rest of us followed, just as if there were no other room in the house we could have gone to. 

Why this wording? Why do they think they need to pretend? They should have been leaping in glee for Hugh!

Through the loudspeaker the voice of Hugh Robert Perkins began with some introductory remarks…

Here the father refers to his son as Hugh Robert Perkins; this directly relates to Hugh’s often referring to his parents by their formal names and we wonder why the father has chosen this way of putting it.

Hugh never once looked around from the radio(…) The storm and static got worse every second and he didn’t even try to improve the reception.

Hugh was listening closely, as he expected his family would be doing.

Toward the very end, I saw his mother raise her eyebrows and tighten her mouth the way she does when she’s about to cry, and I shook my head vigorously at her, forbidding it.  I knew what she was feeling well enough; we were all feeling it: Poor boy had endured uncertainty, had for days been pinning his hopes on the chance of rain, and now had to hear himself drowned out by the static on our old radio.  I thought it might be more than flesh and blood could bear.

Not only does the father assume that everyone is feeling sorry for the boy, and that Hugh is embarrassed and upset–about which he turns out to be wrong–he dissuades his wife from sympathizing with what even he considers a tough thing to go through.

When Hugh jumps up in excitement at the end of the reading, the father realizes that Hugh somehow heard it all and was proud, not embarrassed. He also feels the growing gap between them.  Hugh sees it too, and as always, he puts himself down likely because to do so keeps his father from doing it.

We see the separation as Hugh grants himself the freedom from the burden of his family’s expectations.  I am thinking that what Hugh was searching for in the mirrors was not how handsome or whatever he was, but what was wrong with him that didn’t measure up. 

The final paragraph is the most telling of the story. The narrator didn’t get it and he never will. The irony of the last statement and the narrator’s assessment of the nature of the episode and relationships is priceless.

This just makes you want to slap him hard:

After raining all morning, the skies seemed to be clearing.  It was mostly bright while we sat there, with only an occasional dark interval.  During those dark intervals, Hugh ate feverishly; otherwise he only picked at his food.  I’m afraid that with the rst of us the reverse was true.  (p. 113)

How telling of the narrator, Hugh’s father, that even as he and the rest of the family are aware of Hugh’s wish that the rain at least stall the start of the game so that the radio station will play his talk, he still hopes for the game to begin on time.

Lucy may, their black servant has stepped behind Hugh as the sun shines through the window on his back in a protective gesture, understanding that he is hurting.  She dismisses the chirp of a bird as a sign of a promise of rain and tells him so quietly.  But the father has overheard.

Hugh may or may not have heard the redbird.  But he paid no more attention to Lucy May’s encouraging words than he had to the encouragement and applause of Miss Arrowood. (p. 113)

The father takes a swipe at his son here, failing to understand that Hugh may not care what these other people think; his life has been spent to this moment trying to make his family recognize him for something. 

I’m wondering though how far off his father’s estimation of his son has been; if in fact despite his apologetic recital of the situation and of his son’s escapades, he does not instead blame himself for not giving him the benefit of education the others received.  If the fact that his own business left him without as much to provide for Hugh as the older children, is what he is really ashamed for and is transferring the differences onto Hugh rather than admit his own failings.

There are similarities between Peter Taylor’s stories in the first person pov and Raymond Carver’s Cathedral. What has become prominent for me is the way he handles the narrator’s evaluation of another character’s actions.  There is an underlying theme that is quite contrary to the words the narrator speaks.

In Promise of Rain, the narrator describes a frustration with his youngest son who in his opinion is very different than his siblings in ways that embarrass the father.  Hugh is goodlooking and has a habit of studying himself in mirrors.  He is also less ambitious than the others–whose ambition often has merely been marrying well.  He bounces from one thing to another in trying to find himself, and actiing, above schoolwork, may be one thing that suits him.  In the pursuit of improving himself, he has been practicing elocution and the father describes how Hugh is anxiously watching the weather and recharging old radio batteries in the hope that a local game will be called because of rain and the station will instead play a ten minute speech by Hugh as a local service.  The father, on the other hand, is looking forward to hearing the game.

I knew why Hugh kept looking out the windows, and soon I was looking out windows, too.  The rain came down pretty steady all morning and only began to let up about noon.  I found I was pitting my hopes against his.  I was, at least, until I saw how awfully worked up the boy was.  Than I tried my best to hope with him.  But I don’t think I ever before had such mixed feelings about so small a thing as whether or not a ball game would be rained out.  (p. 112)

What the narrator is saying that as a father he switched from his own hopes to hear the game to ‘try’ his best to hope for the opposite for his son’s sake.  What’s particularly telling is his statement that he"had such mixed feelings about so small a thing as" whether the game would be rained out!  He doesn’t say a big thing like his son’s talk on the radio, but refers to the ball game instead.

There are many instances where the narrator says something that can be taken sarcastically, or condescendingly, and puts himself in a position of trying his best for the boy but continually being disappointed.  Hugh is bright and remains cheerful, and often we get the idea that his father is misreading him badly.  But what comes through even stronger, to me, is that the narrator is not telling us how he really feels.

Just finished Peter Taylor’s story The Old Forest and I understand that the theme is one of how people treat one another, and how change comes slowly. 

There is a friendly tone to Taylor’s first person narrator and in the reminiscence of the event of the automobile accident which brought the comparison of lifestyles and in particular, of woman’s place in society, he is telling us what he has learned from it.  There is a wistfulness in his voice, as if he wishes he could have understood it all better and more, that society had understood the strength of women and brought it to its fruition rather than sidestepping it into an almost cunningness rather than recognize its value.  He understands that even as she had explained it all back then, his fiancee–now his wife–still has not broken free from the role she was given at birth. 

Nice writing–though as I said, a bit dated in its overinvolvement of language to tell a simple story.  The underlying them of equality of gender was strong throughout and almost anticlimactic once the answers to the mysteries are given.