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
It is apparent, to Harry at least, that he has interrupted Marta while she was attempting to listen, unnoticed, to a conversation transpiring in her kitchen. She has abruptly made her face delightful and fascinated in Harry’s general direction. Now she blinks at him as if he is a unicorn come to offer fealty. Her face offers a mixture of mild awe and gentle enthusiasm. She is quick to say, “There you are.”
Harry nods.
The forced expression on Marta Hillary’s face begins to fade. It is replaced by a wistful smile. “We were just about to ask where you were,” she is saying, as if this makes any sense.
The doorbell rings.
“I hear you study psychology.”
Harry nods again.
Marta is gazing intently at Harry. “It’s so interesting.”
Harry thinks he can feel a weird, persistent pressure at the rear of his skull, as if a thin, sharp instrument were slowly, dreamily poking around in the back of his brain.
“How interesting,” Marta Hillary repeats.
The doorbell reiterates its call.
Now Marta Hillary does as her dual role as wife and professional intellectual ordains, which is to say she floats away.
More and more people begin to enter the house. Harry can hear them and he moves to where they are because this is what is appropriate, and when Harry next notices where he is, he is beside the refrigerator nursing a beer. He nurses several beers. It isn’t a dinner so much as it is a long party, an eventually very drunken party. Harry doesn’t talk to anyone and remains in the kitchen. Occasionally, as the night scrolls by, he catches the eye of Lizzie Hillary, who always somehow seems to be looking right at him.
Twenty-Nine. Parity
Twenty-Nine
Parity
Clare has been to the party. She has done what she believes is expected. Appear. She sat in the living room. Here are her peers: The novelists look like money and even the poets seem canny, mathematical. Or maybe no one looks like money, because no one looks at ease. Almost everyone is white. No one, as far as Clare knows, is not straight. Clare does not know much. She pushed herself to attend. She read the listserv invite with a moan. It is precisely the sort of thing she does not care to do but the doing of which convinces her of her sanity. Anyway, all this makes sense, fossil fuels, gynecology, a giant bird on a plate.