I still haven't decided on which path to take. I'm interested in both the soldier's story, focused on tension, and an AI story, which I would like to involve a Prometheus-type revelation. An AI freeing humans, perhaps. This chunk takes the guy from the things they carried and tries to zoom in on a scene with his mother. If I'm still interested in the flip side, I'll post it next week.
He clutched the glass to his lips. Hands still numb, leftovers from bad coordinates, could barely keep it raised. Something like milk slid to his tongue, and slid down his throat. The light in the room screamed in, shining off every white tablecloth, arranged vase and waxed fruit. Keep it together, Ray.
"Almost lunch," he said, leaning back but not settling in. Chair was full of lumps, or something. Leaning forward didn't work either. He set the milk back down and licked his lips to feel the cool drops. She moved through the living room, a little blotch of orange flower pattern bobbing over couch cushions.
"Soup's in the refrigerator. I can heat you some." She whump-whumped a few cushions and arranged them on each side, corners up. She always said the whole word, refrigerator. Fridge was for the beer cooler in the garage. Toaster oven.
"Not yet." His eyes traced the pattern of the red berries on the tablecloth. That branch only had three.
Turning now, hands planted on stout hips, she surveyed the bookshelves. On her way she bent down, blowing dust off the plastic chrysanthemums that graced the coffee table. The ones next to the sailing books, neatly fanned. A puff of white obscured her face, and she squinted.
"Why? You hungry?" Some sort of Phil Collins played over the radio. She liked to hum while she dusted. Did she used to do this when he was gone?
He opened and shut his hands a few times below the table. Felt like his fingers were asleep.
"I had another dream this morning," he said, eyes tracing the berries.
She had moved to the bookcase now, feather duster in hand, and was making her way up. The board games offered little resistance, her duster invading the darkest corners, but the books seemed to have more mettle.
"Oh? Did you tell doctor Lyons?" Her duster moved up another row, her free hand giving a quick staccato on the side of the TV. Her white feet dug into the carpet, red toes scrunched in for traction. Her calves tensed on tip toes, with some veiny blue showing through her hosiery.
"I thought he wanted to hear about them. I thought he wanted you to write them down."
He considered the milk, and it stared back, gelatinous.
"I don't meet with him until next week." He tried to feel the lace frill on the edge of the tablecloth. Each edge hung evenly over each side, frozen.
She swept the duster to the top shelf, too short to see. The duster worked on it's own, finding its way behind each framed picture of his grandmother and cousins. With a swipe, Kayla's picture wobbled, then steadied. Dusting complete.
The phone rang. One of those screaming twitters that you can feel in your bones. So she was getting harder of hearing. Dad said that the other day.
Not missing a beat, she deposited the duster in the pantry and entered the kitchen. Bare feet padding on linoleum. She picked up the phone, pausing for a minute to clear her throat; Hmph!
"Hello?" A voice parroted out into her ear, squawking and muffled. Her teeth toyed with her lip, and she glanced at Ray briefly, before he could look up.
"Oh," she said, "I'm afraid you have the wrong number. Yes, you too. Goodbye." The phone latched back into its holster. She padded to the refrigerator.
"Here," she said, "have some soup."
He nodded, saying nothing. He let his hand drift to the spoon, already laid out, and grabbed it, tight. The tupperware container cracked open and she keyed in digits on the microwave.
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Although I have never had first hand experience with a soldier coming home from war, your writing is very effective in that the mundane seems awkward and overwhelming. Ray's descriptions and feelings of the tablecloth gives off an uneasy vibe, like he doesn't quite understand the patterns. He has to inspect everything around him, making sure he is seeing things correctly. In "The Things They Carried," the author creates a huge list of objects and experiences that the soldiers carry with them throughout the war. Here, you give a clear picture of this soldier's baggage and how it has affected him in the "safe," everyday, home land of America. Incorporating his mother into the story is great. It gives the story a personality. All of her movements and cleaning techniques would be unnoticed by a man never entering a battlefield but to Ray, he is zoned in on every movement, feeling, and sound that she makes.
ReplyDeleteYeah, I love the details. As far as showing and all that goes, it's very effective in capturing this environment and the power dynamics happening without resorting to the overt. It's a pretty powerful feeling - and it must be difficult to execute. The whump-whump. Anyway, the parallels to the style O'Brien uses in The Things They Carried is a great touch. Although I haven't read it recently and I probably wouldn't have been smart enough to figure it out if it weren't mentioned, it's alluring to consider the ways the dynamics of war and the home front intersect. Which could be a whole 'nother power structure to skirt around outside of the tension aspect.
ReplyDeleteAnd also I like the way the characters kind of act completely opposite. There's talking and movement on one side, both of which often seem frivolous or nervous actions by the character, and then there's Ray who's hardly there. Although a reader can lose sight of that aspect underneath the objects, it doesn't seem like a problem. It's just set up well, well-written. And there are plenty of ways to continue on too.
It also reminds me of something I just read in another class, What You Left In The Ditch (or something like that) by Amy Bender. Why am I mentioning it? I don't know, but she has a strange way of illustrating the characters and making an absurd story about the same topic come to life. It may be worth a look.
Like the first two posts, I also think that this piece works really well. The dream like atmosphere -- how things seem to be blurry and move in small ways -- like Brett and Kaitlin said before, show just how out of place he feels back at home. The contrast between each character's movements, he seems to hardly move and she drifts around cleaning, highlight the tension between them. The few lines that they do exchange, particularly about "Dr.Lyons" make the reader realize that something very serious is going on, and that Ray had to come home to them, perhaps because of a very bad case of P.T.S.
ReplyDeleteBut I think it is the focus on details-- not just movement --that really made everything fit together. The little lines about color, about objects obscuring the mother, her veiny calves and red toes. Even the little comments like "Keep it together, Ray" or "That branch had only three" contribute to atmosphere of the piece. It's so tense, and still so dreamy.
Posting for Will:
ReplyDeleteExcellent work here. I really like this style of writing for the story you are creating. It is immediate and evocative. I especially like the fact that the writing seems like the type of writing that would work if describing a battle scene, but since it is describing the exact opposite I think it is interesting. The small details are excellent, especially the line about how she always says the whole word... refrigerator. Good stuff. The only question I have is that I can't quite see where this is heading. I think the idea is great, to have a soldiar come back from war and not really know how to integrate back into the mundane and trivial patterns of everyday life. I think you could make some very interesting comments on power relationships but I don't think you've done that quite yet. This excerpt, while very well written, hasn't taken the reader anywhere and doesn't really do anything but hint at the struggles he could potentially have. I want to see him interact more with the world at large and struggle to find and regain power over his own life after coming home. I think you are definitely capable of producing some excellent work from this. Good luck