The conciseness of tragedy
My wife talks about the necessity of fiction for explaining things: there are some feelings which require an entire novel to evoke. And it's true, I think we all know what she's talking about, there are places that you cannot go without taking the journey to get there.
Sometimes, though, something very brief can evoke an entire novel's worth of emotion. She read me a recipe quoted by Caitlin Flanagan, from some 1950's thing which went approximately like this: "hack a chicken into pieces, dump paprika on it, throw it into medium hot oil for as long as it takes to smoke a cigarette, staring sullenly at the sink". An entire English Lit course right there, although I've reproduced it badly.
Another one, a Slashdot comment, went like this:
Very factual, just the basic background to get out of the way, before telling the funny story. But there's an entire novel's worth packed in there too. What must it be like to lose the man you love? What does this mean for the life you'd been planning to have together? Or not lose him entirely, just he's utterly changed? What will his life be like now? Yours? In some ways, worse than having him die, some unkind aunt would no doubt claim. Would you leave him? But very romantic, to stick around... not that he remembers it for more than 30 seconds. A whole novel's worth, packed in tightly, by someone for whom the story is old, tired, the interest worn out through repetition a thousand times. By someone who's moved on, emotionally, made their peace and said goodbye? Perhaps. But still, that word boyfriend, present tense, not ex, not former lover, but boyfriend. A complete tragedy, written small.
A third, even shorter. Posters suddenly appeared everywhere on campus recently: "MISSING", and a picture of a happy looking male student, plus details. Missing person reports are almost always bad news, but adult men aren't usually the focus. Clearly possessed of a loving (and well-organized) set of family, friends and girlfriend, he just didn't show up one evening. You know to hope for the best, even for a stranger you've never met, but you also know to assume the worst, even for happy looking bright young men with a full future in front on them. The posters all disappeared yesterday, just as suddenly, their very absence communicating the end of the tragic story. He's no longer missing.
Sometimes, though, something very brief can evoke an entire novel's worth of emotion. She read me a recipe quoted by Caitlin Flanagan, from some 1950's thing which went approximately like this: "hack a chicken into pieces, dump paprika on it, throw it into medium hot oil for as long as it takes to smoke a cigarette, staring sullenly at the sink". An entire English Lit course right there, although I've reproduced it badly.
Another one, a Slashdot comment, went like this:
My boyfriend suffered a stroke which crippled his short-term memory. For example, one time ...
Very factual, just the basic background to get out of the way, before telling the funny story. But there's an entire novel's worth packed in there too. What must it be like to lose the man you love? What does this mean for the life you'd been planning to have together? Or not lose him entirely, just he's utterly changed? What will his life be like now? Yours? In some ways, worse than having him die, some unkind aunt would no doubt claim. Would you leave him? But very romantic, to stick around... not that he remembers it for more than 30 seconds. A whole novel's worth, packed in tightly, by someone for whom the story is old, tired, the interest worn out through repetition a thousand times. By someone who's moved on, emotionally, made their peace and said goodbye? Perhaps. But still, that word boyfriend, present tense, not ex, not former lover, but boyfriend. A complete tragedy, written small.
A third, even shorter. Posters suddenly appeared everywhere on campus recently: "MISSING", and a picture of a happy looking male student, plus details. Missing person reports are almost always bad news, but adult men aren't usually the focus. Clearly possessed of a loving (and well-organized) set of family, friends and girlfriend, he just didn't show up one evening. You know to hope for the best, even for a stranger you've never met, but you also know to assume the worst, even for happy looking bright young men with a full future in front on them. The posters all disappeared yesterday, just as suddenly, their very absence communicating the end of the tragic story. He's no longer missing.
posted by TFox at
8:46 PM
