Story Snip from Larksong: Chapter 35, and RIP Paul Auster

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You know how newspapers and other media always have obituaries for celebrities ready to go?

Not only do I not have that, but half the time. I'm blindsided by the news.

Then I never know what to say, because I'm not family or a friend. I'm just a reader, who treasured an author's words.

And now the author has passed away.

Here's the obituary for Paul Auster in The Guardian. Here's a really good interview with Paul Auster from the Paris Review archives.

Here's an old blog post about regret:

We all lug books (or at least our e-readers) on vacation. But sometimes the most exciting book discoveries come while we're on vacation and either find a new book or author, rediscover an old favourite, or have someone recommend a book. I first read The Stand at the age of 13 because my uncle happened to have it lying around.

And I first came upon Paul Auster the same way - visiting cousins in France and, of course, looking through their bookshelves. The New York Trilogy was the first English book to catch my eye. I loved it right from the start - so mysterious, so twisty-turny, and yet with such compelling characters. The last book of his that I read was Timbuktu, told from the point of view of a dog, Mr Bones. So sad and sweet.

As for regrets... Paul Auster was a featured author at Montreal's Blue Metropolis Literary Festival a few years back. And, because I couldn't find anyone that wanted to come with me, I didn't go.

When am I ever going to get to Brooklyn again? That was my one chance to meet Paul Auster, and I lost it.

Don't do what I did!


Here's the way I posted about it when I first heard the news:










Meanwhile, there's only a month or so left in Alice and George's story!

Larksong is set in Montreal, July 1914.

In chapter 1, Alice arrived at the family cottage to take care of her grandmother's aviary, following her grandmother's funeral, only to find that her parents had already leased the cottage to another family for the summer. The only way she could have one more summer in her favourite place was to surreptitiously take on the role of governess to the two young girls...

In chapter 2, we met George, laid up at the hospital with a broken leg. Instead of joining his friends on a Grand Tour of Europe, he's being sent off to recuperate at a rented cottage in the country...

In chapters 3 and 4, we returned to Alice's point of view, and saw her bonding with George's younger sisters. Then she got a surprise -- George was arriving at the cottage that very day! We saw a hint that Alice finds George attractive and interesting -- but also unbearably rude.

In chapters 5 to 10, they had their first argument, then argued once more, but the stakes were higher: war is on the horizon. Then George attempted a rapprochement. Alice had some feelings stirring... During their first evening together, they began to suss each other out over a card game, and they reached a détente of sorts before going their separate ways for the night.

In chapters 11 and 12, we started the next morning in George's point of view, with his dawning realization of his attraction to Alice. Yet this realization did not lead to greater friendliness.

In chapter 13 (which I mistakenly also labelled as 12!), a new complication arose, in the form of the arrival of Albert, George's younger, and rather rude, brother. Meanwhile, George was busy with inappropriate (as he thinks) thoughts of Alice. (I skipped a scene where Alice takes the girls down to the lake and needs to pretend with a neighbour, Mrs Chase, that she is not a governess, but simply helping out with the girls. Then, while Alice is distracted, trying to spin her web of half-truths and discussing the threat of war on the horizon, Lucy gets up on a rickety boat tied up at the dock and fell off into the water.)

In chapter 14, on returning from the lake, Alice and the girls overheard an argument that ended with this outburst from George to his brother Albert: "I don't need your tales of self-pity. The question is, what are you going to do about it, now that you've f***ed it all up?"

In chapters 15 to 19, we witnessed the fallout from the argument, then shared a moment between Alice and George in the garden. Alice left George and resumed her governess role, and decided not to join the brothers that evening in the parlour. Then, early the next morning, Alice went out, only to find George rowing on the lake, and joined him.

In chapter 20, following their early morning idyll, we finally had a true rapprochement. Alice, making up her mind in an instant, called out to George's sisters: "We're going on an expedition with your brother." (I skipped the rest of chapter 20, in which we take a trip through the woods with Alice, George, and his sisters. There are friendly chats, the girls sign their brother's cast, and George begins work on a sketch of Alice. When they return home, the girls help Alice feed the birds in the aviary and clean it in preparation for the arrival of Mr Palmer, a prospective buyer visiting from Boston. Mr Palmer says he will make his decision on purchasing the aviary and return the next day. Throughout the day, there are hints of the gathering storms of war.)

In chapters 21 and 22, as Alice saw Mr Palmer off at the gate, a new complication emerged, in the arrival of Albert's friends from university. Alice and George came close to admitting their attraction, but then George unwittingly insulted the birds and the aviary and Alice's affection for her grandmother's pets.

In chapter 23, following omitted scenes (a bit of George's reflections on Alice, and his feelings for her (as well as memories of unfavourable reactions from his parents about his hobby of sketching and painting); at the end, he decides that it might be a lark to try to lure Pixie away from his brother. He proceeds to do just that before dinner as she plays up her role of nurse and guides George through some exercises in the front parlour. This leads to an arm wrestling match between all the boys, involving both wagers for a few coins--and kisses for the winner from Pixie. That evening, they all gather in the front parlour, and agree to attend the ball and bonfire at the Hatley Manor hotel the next night. George catches Albert and Pixie canoodling in the kitchen, but decides he's in no position to say anything because he was ready to embrace Alice the governess), the next day, the crowd slept in, all except Alice, who took her charges into the village to watch a magic lantern show. On their return, George decided to show them his secret--the full extent of his artistry. It was revealed that Eleanor is also a budding artist, and the siblings agreed to continue to develop their talent and to hide it from their disapproving parents.

In chapters 24 and 25, the girls returned to the house, and Alice and George, alone in the enclosed garden, sat side by side on the bench... They kissed, and Alice revealed her true identity to George. They talked, perhaps all too briefly, about what they would do with their newfound feelings.

In chapter 26, George watches her with Mr Palmer (who's returned to inspect the aviary and agree on its purchase) and thinks about how he's actually looking forward to the big party at the fancy hotel that night, now that he'll have Alice on his arm. I've skipped this bit, and a bit where they discuss Alice's attachment to the cottage and the birds, as well as the fact that Alice isn't really a governess and what they might have to tell his family, if anything. Also a part where, seated side-by-side and hand-in-hand on the porch, they talk of George's hopes and plans for his future career, in despite of his father. Then she asked him if he meant to return to England, but Albert interrupted.

In chapter 27 and 28, in the evening, they all made their way to the banquet and dance at Hatley Manor. Alice juggled her governess duties with advances from Albert--and affairs of the heart (I've left out a bit of conversation with other partygoers from the village and the interlude when Elsie arrives to pick up the girls)

In chapters 29 to 32, Alice and George returned to the house together (I've left out the bit of their conversation about Albert and his friends, and their journey to the house, with George in his chair--but his crutches have been lost), and they grew closer than ever before, until Albert interrupted them! I've omitted the argument between George and his brother, Albert's unwanted advances on Alice, and an interlude in which George and Alice, in his bedroom, take their relationship further than they have before, until George says the wrong thing and Alice storms upstairs to bed) and, the next morning, Alice woke to find all the birds gone from the aviary! She went out seeking them, speculating as to who might have released them (I've omitted a breakfast interlude in which Pixie pretends to perform nursing duties towards George)...

In chapter 33, she argued with George on the path, about his sisters, about the birds, about Alice sticking to the story of herself as governess. (I've skipped the bit where she catches up with Eleanor, and between the two of them, they coax most of the birds back to the aviary).

In chapter 34, just when Alice thought all might be salvaged, things took a turn for the worse when George revealed her secret, her true identity, to everyone at once. Then there was a brief interlude in George's point of view, which likely won't make it into the finished novel as it was more a stream of consciousness snip, and also happened to mess up the number and kinds of birds that have yet to be found!

In chapter 35, we remain in George's point of view as he deals with his sisters...


Elsie, clearing up the remains of luncheon, let slip that Alice was leaving. "Your governess has walked out," was how she put it, pausing between Eleanor and Lucy's chairs with their collected plates in her hands.
"What do you mean 'walked out'?" George asked before his sisters could say anything.
"I've just seen her stepping out from the verandah with her kit, Mr. Cunnick. She didn't say nothing to me, except about them birds. But I thought you should know." She set the plates on a tray with the soup tureen from the sideboard and returned to the kitchen.
"She must have heard all that we said."
"Why should that make any difference to her?" his brother demanded.
He could tell them, but it was clear he'd already divulged too much of Alice's story. If he went on, they'd all realise the extent she'd confided in him after such a short acquaintance, He could tell them that she also had suffered a broken leg, and that it was their shared experience -- and her sixth sense when it came to anticipating his needs -- that had led to heightened emotions between them. Until last night, when in his grasping need he'd destroyed her confidence in him. And now this morning, when he'd betrayed her trust.
He knew as certainly what he'd done as he had been oblivious in the act of doing it.
"I still don't understand," Pixie interjected. "All this so she could stay with these birds? She's the one selling them, isn't she? So what's there to make such a fuss about?"
He mulled over Pixie's words. Why should he defend Alice, when she was perfectly capable of explaining her own motives? He might have revealed her name, but it was her ridiculous birds that had started all this -- but there he went againn, picking up others' callous attitudes. He knew perfectly well how much the birds meant to Alice and why; he ought to show his empathy. "I don't have all the answers," he hedged. "But look, surely she doesn't mean to walk all the way to the station? Eleanor, run after her and tell her to wait. She can drive back in the car, if you're all headed out today, too."
He turned away from the look of pleasure that crossed Albert's face at the prospect of riding with Alice, and made a business of reaching to the sideboard behind him to mix a cocktail.
After Eleanor left, the others scattered one by one. Pixie had not asked if he needed help with his drink or with getting out of his chair.
No matter, he'd sit here until they'd all packed up and driven off. Likely Elsie would find something for his sisters to occupy themselves with once Alice had gone, and she could show Mr. Palmer in when he arrived.
With a groan, he stretched his sound leg next to the other on its chair, and took a long sip of his whisky and soda.
"I don't understand what's happened," Lucy piped up.
With a jolt that sent a lightning bolt of pain up his leg, he turned to find her slumped in her seat, picking a thread out of the tablecloth. He'd assumed she'd gone with Eleanor, but in Alice's absence, it seemed no one else kept track of a little girl's whereabouts.
"Well, sister, in a nutshell it means you have no governess for the rest of the summer. Unless I get in touch with James and he manages to find the woman who was originally meant to come down."
"But why can't Miss Alice stay? I like her."
"I like her, too," he said before he could stop himself. "But she's not a real governess. Just a -- a friend."
"She was nice." Lucy insisted, adding emphasis to the last word. She tugged out a thread and flicked it off her finger. "Isn't that what a governess is meant to be? She got me interested in things. She let us attend the party."
"Yes, I'm sure she's admirable in lots of ways," he snapped. Lucy's paean of praise made him feel a cad all over again for revealing Alice's secret. They were just birds, as Pixie had said. If only Alce had not invented a rigmarole to stay in the house with them!
He leaned back over the chair arm and peered out of the window. He could just about make out Alice, sitting in a lawn chair, under a tree with a bird cage hung in its branches, feet tucked under and hands folded in her lap. She had on both hat and cloak, and her kit on the ground beside her.
Running footsteps and slamming drawers downstairs and up indicated that the others were caught up in a frenzy of packing. He couldn't go over to Alice -- talk some sense into her -- without one of the others seeing and making some comment.
If she stayed for him, Albert would be more merciless than ever, and likely out the entire story to James the minute he arrived in Montreal. Their older brother would never countenance a stranger, even if she was a McKerrow, playacting at being a governess to their sisters. Everything above board and properly arranged, that was James' way.
He'd probably be most upset at the days they had lost without a proper governess to continue their lessons.
"Why's Miss Alice sitting under that tree?" Lucy asked beside his ear. He hadn't heard her leave her seat, fixated as he'd been on Alice's upright -- forlorn? -- figure.
"She's waiting for the others to pack up their gear," he replied, hoping it was true. "And, see that cage? There must still be a bird or two missing and she's hoping they'll find the seeds she's scattered there." That was more likely. But if the birds hadn't returned by the time the others were ready, would Alice leave regardless?
"Elsie says that all the birds are back in the aviary except the mynahs."
"Does she? And how does she know that?"
His sister gave him a withering look, as though he was the one in need of a governess, if he didn't know the answer to a question as obvious as that. "She told Elsie, when Elsie saw her leaving. And I asked Elsie about it, while you and Albert were arguing. That's why Eleanor went out to Miss Alice."
"What do you mean? I asked her to make sure Miss Alice waits for the others."
"You didn't ask, you told her to," Lucy corrected. "But she didn't go for that alone. She wants to help Miss Alice find the last two birds, since you kept her from finishing her search this morning."
"I kept her -- Lucy, you know perfectly well it wasn't safe for your sister to be alone in the woods. It wasn't right of Miss Alice to separate from her."
"They found the birds, didn't they? And nothing bad happened, did it?" Lucy asked with a child's logic. "There's Eleanor now." She dropped the argument and ran out of the room.
A moment later both girls converged on Alice from different directions, Lucy from the house and Eleanor from the garden path. She held her hand out as she came, palm up, and he didn't need to see it to know her palm was filled with seeds.
He didn't know whether it'd been Albert or Pixie -- or one of those two other useless chaps -- who'd opened the aviary doors -- but if he ever found out, he'd have to avenge Alice's honour -- and her gran's pets.
Alice pointed into the trees, and Eleanor and Lucy stared up in the direction of her finger, hanging on to her every word. A curl had escaped her bonnet, and wafted against her cheek in the breeze off the lake.
She couldn't leave, damn it. She was the only creature who'd looked at him properly all summer, as a man and not an invalid. Not the captain of the hockey team, not one of the Cunnick lads, certainly not a broken man.
Why, she was the only girl who'd ever seen him for himself -- and liked him for it!


Which books and authors have been your touchstones over the years?

Comments

Hilary Melton-Butcher said…
Hi Deniz - I've never heard of Paul Auster - I'm sorry to read you never got to meet him - he's not had an easy life.

This snippet is stringing me happily along! The birds are certainly a draw and a thread to keep the story line going in the direction you are directing them ... as you write. Love it - cheers Hilary
8 May 2024 at 08:29
Deniz Bevan said…
So glad you enjoyed the story, Hilary!
Auster's daughter Sophie is coming to Europe on tour! I hope she has a concert in Switzerland!
5 September 2024 at 03:39
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