Subject: Re: women in Salinger's work
From: Mattis Fishman (mattis@argoscomp.com)
Date: Fri Mar 30 2001 - 12:44:56 GMT
Dear Fish,
Thank you Scottie and Cecilia for replies. You know, I don't think
I was looking for a work whose focus is on an ongoing relation
(and I appreciate you pointing out how rare this is in colonial
fiction, Scottie), merely the existence of some sort of satisfying
relationship, and I think, Cecilia, that a Connecticut woman in
a marriage from hell whose only love is for a dead soldier is far
from a good relationship.
I am only looking for something normal and American, you know,
like... like... - I think I get it, now, perhaps I should be
reading fairy tales, or watching Father Knows Best while I play my
old 50's records. I mean, is the whole world so dysfunctional?
Actually, there is lovely short work by that master of self-destruction
who spent quite a lot of time on this continent, and as an added
fringe benefit, Paul, he spent it in Canada, namely Malcolm Lowry.
He is most famous for Under the Volcano, about as far from an
idyll as you can get (and a wonderful, powerful, book). However
his later writings were collected and if you happen to come across
(usually in a collection of his last stories) the short novel
"A Forest Path to the Stream" you will find a serene story that
perhaps could be compared to the slow movement from Beethoven's
"Moonlight" sonata. It's hard to read such a lovely story knowing
that Lowry died by what may have been suicide a short time later.
As for Salinger, what the heck, if he can't do it, I'll have to do it
myself:
-----
... The young man opened a calf skin suitcase and reached under a
pile of shirts. Glancing at the girl sleeping on the other bed
he suddenly said, "Honey, do you know where the sunburn ointment is?
I can't find it."
Opening her eyes with the abruptness of someone who was used to
being disturbed, her mouth softened in concern.
"Oh Seymour, it's your feet again"
"Yes, and someone was staring at them in the elevator, too."
The girl had arisen and with her light robe trailing behind like
diaphanous angel's wings moved over to the suitcase and deftly
produced a well sqeezed tube. Sitting down and taking the young
man's feet in her lap, she began gently applying the ointment.
"You know, if I would have been there, this wouldn't have happened."
"I know, I know, but you know how important is was to talk to your
mother. After all she's done for us, it just wouldn't have been right
to keep her worried. Oh! That feels so much better, I don't know
I'd do without you. Sometimes I think I would kill myself."
Bending over, he kissed her gently on the back of the neck. The
girl tilted her head slightly, veiling his face with her soft
brown hair, to move her cheek closer to him. He kissed her again
and sighed.
"Sometimes you fill me with so much happiness that I feel like a
bananafish."
"A bananafish? Such a funny name, have you been talking to that
sweetheart Sybil again? What's a bananafish?"
Pulling her closer with one arm, he reached out and tugged at the
cord on the venetian blinds, darkening the room.
"Remind me to tell you about it sometime."
---
all the best,
Mattis - take that! Matt K. - Fishman
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