touching


Subject: touching
From: Scottie Bowman (rbowman@indigo.ie)
Date: Thu Jun 14 2001 - 03:37:37 GMT


    Suzanne remarks: '... Bessie. I don't want to read the book
    again, sorry to say ...’

    This greatly reassures me that I’m not, as I feared, the only
    one-eyed citizen in this kingdom of the blind.

    In the whole menagerie, Bessie is certainly the Glass who grates
    most raspingly on my nerves. The others may be unengaging
    inventions but at least have a certain originality - whilst Bessie
    is straight from Central Casting. That endless, elephantine dialogue
    about chicken soup (how cliché is it possible to get?) & Bessie’s
    mock-huffy ‘young man’ inserted from time to time to indicate
    ill-concealed but profound tenderness ... Who else was it written
    for but Fay Bainter, dragged from her latest manifestation as
    the roly-poly, bustling, American Mom - only this time togged
    out in a hair net & butt-filled kimono. How repellent.

    Yes, it’s all those ‘young man’s that finally turn my stomach.
    It’s so precisely the wrong phrase for what Salinger was presumably
    trying to convey & so precisely the right one if he were going for
    the Hollywood version of Mom-With-Grown-Up-Son. Brisk,
    bustling tough on the outside, tooth-loosening, jaw-clenching
    carmel on the inside.

    Sentimentality reaches its zenith (nadir?), of course, in those
    allusions to Dublin shawlies, deposed Balkan queens, retired
    courtesans &, best of all, those terrific legs which end in
    ‘extraordinary small feet’ & are surmounted, naturally, by
    ‘enormous blue eyes’. Jesus.

    In checking out the references, I went back to the story this morning
    & was stunned to see just HOW long it is. I remembered it as
    tedious, of course, but thought McCarthy et al were being a bit
    extreme in calling it interminable. They were right, though.
    With its wearisome pages of instruction, its long, long unrelieved
    paragraphs, its stifling reminders of Glass uniqueness, it goes on
    forever & ever & ever, amen. As, no doubt, the silly young
    woman in the room next door would have it.

    Scottie B.

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