Chapters (60)
- Cover
- Title Page
- Personae
- I: Early Days
- One. Control
- Two. Doubt
- Three. Fate
- Four. Same
- Five. Fine Arts
- Six. In Loco Parentis
- Seven. Settling
- Eight. Neighbors
- Nine. Prospects
- Ten. The Lucky
- Eleven. Instruction
- Twelve. Same
- Thirteen. This Is a Pipe
- Fourteen. This Is Not a Pipe
- Fifteen. The Reason
- Sixteen. That Person
- Seventeen. Predictably
- II: Writing Teacher
- Eighteen. Early Poems
- Nineteen. Motivation
- Twenty. Allegory
- Twenty-One. Grief
- Twenty-Two. A Portrait
- Twenty-Three. Veils
- Twenty-Four. Soft Power
- Twenty-Five. Lists
- Twenty-Six. A Break
- Twenty-Seven. Elsewhere
- Twenty-Eight. Custom
- Twenty-Nine. Parity
- Thirty. Fortune
- III: Volta
- Thirty-One. Images
- Thirty-Two. A Very Interesting Young Man
- Thirty-Three. Letters
- Thirty-Four. We Prefer to See Ourselves Living
- Thirty-Five. Love
- Thirty-Six. The Iceberg
- IV: Your Best Reader
- Thirty-Seven. A Novelist
- Thirty-Eight. In Advance of the Broken Arm
- Thirty-Nine. Their Penultimate Encounter
- Forty. Détente
- Forty-One. Worlds
- Forty-Two. Recognition
- Forty-Three. Persistence
- Forty-Four. And Then
- Forty-Five. Mingling
- Forty-Six. You
- Forty-Seven. Persona
- Forty-Eight. Est et Non
- Forty-Nine. The Author
- Epilogue
- Afterword: The Libertine
- Acknowledgments
- About the Authors
“You really know how to make a guy wait,” he jovially informs her. It seems like a good way to break the ice, and the double entendre nicely masks any actual eagerness on his part to read her work, he thinks. She’ll have to puzzle through what it seems like he really means before she can get to the fact that he’s just asking her to hand in some work. There’s no way she can know that he only considers her another writer—and a worthy competitor, at that. She’ll never know that he’s completely uninterested in her physically.
The student stares at him. “Oh, I already stopped writing! Isn’t that what you wanted?”
It’s very strange, because it seems so matter-of-fact. The writing teacher wonders for a moment if he is still dreaming.
“You stopped writing?” he repeats.
“Yes. Yes, I did.” The student smiles. She turns back to her acquaintances.
The writing teacher walks slowly back to his office. He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t totally elated by this turn of events. He hears laughter in the hallway behind him and stops for a moment to listen. He can’t hear what they are saying, but he reflects that it must be nice to still be so young.
Afterword: The Libertine
Afterword
The Libertine
The state of society and the Constitution in America are democratic, but there has been no democratic revolution. They were pretty well as they are now when they first arrived in the land. That is a very important point.
—ALEXIS DE TOCQUEVILLE,
Democracy in America
When I began writing this novel, I was, mostly without knowing it, reproducing a trope from the libertine canon. I was rehearsing an archaic situation-comedy format I had first learned about by watching the 1987 film Roxanne, in which Steve Martin attempts to seduce Daryl Hannah, the titular Roxanne, by way of a hunky proxy played by Rick Rossovich, an actor I don’t think I saw anywhere else ever again but who apparently had an important role in Top Gun. Martin’s character, C. D. Bales, is a philosophically inclined fireman with a very (unbelievably) large nose. I don’t need to explain why this proboscis presents a problem in mid-1980s America, though of course today we’d probably just think of it as an additional genital. Through a series of mishaps and happy coincidences, Martin/Bales woos Hannah/Roxanne, and true love conquers all, forestalling forever the false promise of a nose job looming, in true eighties-fantasy fashion, on an earlier horizon.