O'Pinions & O'Bservations O' O'Bscure O'Briania


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Short Stories

Not Liking to Pass the Road Again

Date: Fri, 8 Oct 1999 10:00:59 -0700
From: Susan Wenger

This was a very short story, and I'm not quite sure what it's about. I noticed the unnecessary violence when he gashed a young tree with his chisel, but I didn't think he threw his chisel at the Scotsman deliberately - I think he threw it in the vicinity, as afraid of the deed as of the man, daring himself to throw it the way he would have jumped into a lake from a greater height than he was comfortable with.

When he added a piece to the end of the story, his mother said "Hugh was found on the old bridge. " Is this supposed to sound like "You, " as in the boy himself could have been caught, or is that just the way I speak?

- Susan

=====

"Who wishes to be a meagre sailorman if he can be a learned and enter the government service? Why, in time you might be an official and never do anything for remainder of earthly existence. You could grow long fingernails, and become obese and dignified. " -
Patrick O'Brian


Date: Fri, 8 Oct 1999 11:56:11 -0000
From: sdwilson

Susan Wenger wrote:

I didn't think he threw his chisel at the Scotsman

Wasn't the man a theoretical threat? The way the hero went straight to the stream and travelled up it suggests that he knew his pursuer was a dog. I thought the story was a fine portrait of the trouble stirred up by a boy in the country. Strutting down the road, thoughtless destruction, fear of retribution, sudden and violent arrival of retribution; flight. For me it calls up strong visual memories of a fenced wood by a hilly gravel road. And running. And hiding.

Scott


Date: Mon, 11 Oct 1999 01:15:21-0400
From: John Finneran

"Not Liking to Pass the Road Again" is a brief (barely more than 2 pages), puzzling story. This is the first short story told in the first person, but the narrator is not otherwise named, though he seems to be a young boy. The story begins with a description of a road with a wood next to it that the narrator used to pass by. The wood "for a long time ... had been the place of the Scotch brothers. They were maniacs, carpenters by trade, Baptists; and one had done something horrible to his brother." (p.35) The narrator believed that only one still lived in the woods. When the narrator passed by, he used to throw things into it: small things at first, but one day he throws in "two old chisels without handles" (p.35); the first "gashe[s] a young tree ... tak[ing] the green bark clean from the white wood" (p.35).

The narrator had "purposely this bold day prepared, to throw them in with desperate malice" (pp. 35-36). The second chisel is thrown and "oh God the great bursting crashing in the wood and he came, brutal grunting with speed" (p.36). Who or what the "he" is isn't clear. The narrator runs off as quickly as he can uphill over the trail, then into the stream near a bridge, and he climbs up to near the culvert on the road, and he looks back at his pursuer, and sees "It was still down there [note the pursuer is now "it", rather than "he"], casting to and fro like a hound, but with inconceivable rapidity. Halfway up the meadow sometimes to hit back on the line, so eager, then a silent rush to the water's edge and a check as if it had run into a stone wall: then over and over again, the eager ceasless tracing back and fro." (p.36) The narrator gets to his house and changes his boots without being seen, then he imagines his mother coming in and warning him of a mad dog. "'Hugh was found on the old bridge,' she said (Hugh was one of the farm boys), 'at the foot of the old bridge, with his face bitten. They have taken him to hospital, but he will not speak yet.'" (p.37)

There are several interesting questions about this story. The most prominent is: what did he hit, and what was pursuing him? There are several possibilities (and I think PO'B is deliberately muddying the waters by introducing these possibilities). Susan Wenger and Scott Wilson, in their earlier posts, mentioned two of them. First, there's one (or both) of the Scotch brothers. This ties in with the commentary about them at the story's beginning, but the pursuer is described ("Vague (except in movement'), uncoloured, low on the ground" (p.36)) as what sounds like a non-human creature. The second possibility is that the creature really is a mad dog, and its advance is checked by the end of a leash, but there are difficulties with this explanation as well. Would it be described as "casting to and fro like a hound" if it really were a hound? In addition, it seems to have a very long leash if it can make it "halfway up the meadow" before reaching the end. There's also the possibility of a combination of the first two explanations: the Scotchman is hit, and his dog attacks. A third possibility is that the narrator has hit Hugh with the chisel, slashing his face, and the mad dog story is something he has made up to hide the knowledge of what he's done, but this has the same weaknesses as the Scotch brothers theory. A final possibility is that the creature is supernatural, perhaps the ghost of the dead Scotch brother, which would explain the tremendous speed, and perhaps the stopping at the water (aren't there supernatural creatures -- vampires, etc., -- that can't cross running water?), and the mad dog story is an attempt to put a natural explanation on things.

There's some interesting comparisons between this and the earlier stories. Going into the woods and a path have featured in all of them so far. We know less about the narrator than any of the other central characters so far. At least we knew that "the man" in "The Dawn Flighting" was a man; the narrator in "Not Liking" seems to be a boy, but the evidence is sparse. I assume that he is male because of his behavior in throwing things into the woods, and because the characters in the earlier stories were male, and because POB is himself male, but nowhere is this explicitly said. In fact, the "I" construction allows POB to avoid "he" or "she" altogether if he is trying to create a question on this point. Similarly, I assume the character is young, because he imagines his mother coming in, suggesting a child who lives with his parents, but if this part is imaginary, the narrator could actually be any age. Rather than being about a young boy, the story may be that of a young girl (parallels to Little Red Riding Hood?), or an older woman.

This story seems to have the most in common with "The Happy Despatch", particularly the offenses against something in the woods and the running away. Compare this from "Happy Despatch": "still the everlasting hill stretched above and beyond him ... On and on: not to look up: on, on, on" (p.26) to this from "Not Liking": "Running, running, running, and running up that that dreadful hill that pulled me back" (p.36)

Susan's idea of Hugh = You occurred to me as well, and suggests as whole different possibility of intrepreting the story as psychological metaphor, with Hugh as himself, the woods as his unconscious, and the creature as some dark secret or fear within.

A final interesting thing is the narrator's deliberate re-creation of the past at the story's end. This creates a sort of double memory -- a real past and an imagined one -- and, eventually, a real and an imagined identity, which if lived long enough, tend to get merged and confused. Characters with self-re-created identities are prominent in literature generally (e.g., The Great Gatsby), as well as in O'Brian's own later works, most completely with Richard Temple, but also with James Dillon, as well as Stephen Maturin, and, for that matter, all the intelligence agents we meet, to one degree or another.

John Finneran


Date: Mon, 11 Oct 1999 11:22:38-0400

From: Don Seltzer

I was somewhat annoyed by the structure of the story, which caused some confusion (deliberate?), forcing me to stop in the middle and backup a few paragraphs. When "he came, brutal grunting with speed", I of course thought it was the "maniacal Scotch brother". But further along, "It was still there, casting to and fro like a hound". Huh? Did I misread something? Only at the end is it clear to me that he was chased by a dog. And I also discover that the narrator is a boy, not a man as I had incorrectly assumed at the beginning. So I had to go back and read the whole story again from the new perspective.

Here's my interpretation. The narrator is a weak young boy who is bullied by the local farm boys, particularly one named Hugh. With low esteem, he responds by attacking someone he believes cannot strike back. He probably doesn't know the man, or have any particular grievance towards him. But the Scottish Baptist, subject of all of those dark rumors spread among boys, is a legimate target for his frustrations by virtue of being different from the local folk, and therefore inferior to even the weak boy.

His "attacks" are truly juvenile and petty, beginning as the flinging of twigs and pebbles in the general direction of the man's wood. The satisfaction he gets is all in his mind, as the man suffers no harm, and is ignorant of the boy's actions. Gradually, the boy musters enough courage to throw larger stones more boldly. There comes a day when the boy, with premeditation, brings some old chisels to maliciously throw into the woods, by far the boldest act he has attempted. Unexpectedly, a dog comes out to chase him. Afterwards, I am not sure if he feels proud for having done something dangerous and malicious, or ashamed for his fear when being chased by the dog. Perhaps a combination of both. He invents the little fiction about Hugh and the dog, deriving a satisfaction from the thought that he escaped the beast, while his hated bully did not.

Don Seltzer


Date: Mon, 11 Oct 1999 14:44:32 EDT
From: Charles Munoz

In a message dated 10/11/99 1:15:31 AM, jfinnera@CONCENTRIC.NET wrote:

The narrator had "purposely this bold day prepared, to throw them in with desperate malice" (pp. 35-36). The second chisel is thrown and "oh God the great bursting crashing in the wood and he came, brutal grunting with speed" (p.36). Who or what the "he" is isn't clear. (snip) "it", rather than "he"], casting to and fro like a hound, but with inconceivable rapidity. Halfway up the meadow sometimes to hit back on the line, so eager, then a silent rush to the water's edge and a check as if it had run into a stone wall: then over and over again, the eager ceasless tracing back and fro." (p.36) The narrator gets to his house and changes his boots without being seen
There are several interesting questions about this story. The most prominent is: what did he hit, and what was pursuing him? >

The first question is Who took my copy of Rendezvous? Who took the book? I know just where I left it, on the next-to-top shelf in my living room, and it's not there now. Whoever took it, givvit back. Or else. Alligators ain't innit. Blair witches ain't innit. The terror of life is innit, and that terror is shown over and over again.

It's a couple of years since I read the story. So nobody dast blame me for stupidities and for mistakes, for errors and omissions. For misquotations, purposes mistook, or anything else.

I'd keep in mind that this is a literary short story by an intensely literary young man. It isn't a code. It isn't an allegory. It has no more story behind it than POB intends to give us. There is no answer (or there are many possible answers) to "what did he hit, and what was pursuing him." The hunt for explanations, I think, leads us away from what POB was doing with his talents in those days.

I'd like to point out some of the echoes that I pick up from John's useful posting--maybe, within the echoes we'll hear the poetry in the story.

First off, the road and the wood. Dante, of course. First lines of Divine Comedy. Who can write about woods and a road without Dante? "Whose woods these are I think I know..." Anybody bet POB hadn't read Robert Frost?

He flings in a castrated pair of chisels. Takes "green bark clean from the white wood." Anybody care to bet POB hadn't read Robert Graves' "White Goddess," that mixture of madness and great insight. A rowan tree? An ash? Don't meddle with the Goddess, druid or whatever you are. Or that POB hadn't read "The Golden Bough," where--to be a priest (a writer) you have to kill the Priest of the Wood? Throws them with "desperate malice." Ahab?

He's chased by something. Something that appears to the words, "oh God." A hound. Isn't the Hound of Heaven a well-known literary conceit? Here the hound can't cross running water... the water often a symbol of one's life. Cf. baptism. Cf, in the other direction, Styx, Phlegethon, Acheron, Lethe...or, for that matter, the four rivers which flow from Eden.

Life, struggle, death escaped for now. POB uses the phrase "inconceivable rapidity." to describe the hound's casting back and forth, hunting for the narrator. That's a phrase that echoes: somebody (one of the kings of France?) dying, told his friends that they could not imagine with what "inconceivable rapidity" he moved toward death. Anybody care to bet POB cdn't give the full quotation?

The narrator gets away. And then changes his boots. Changes. Changes the earthy part of his clothing. And that's the end of the story.

And yet, I know of a young writer whose book was reviewed as full of echoes of Dostoyevsky's Grand Inquisitor. He told me (I know him well and absolutely believe him) that he had never read Karamozov at the time. Go figure.

Charlezzzz


Date: Mon, 11 Oct 1999 12:35:47 -0700
From: Susan Wenger

Don Seltzer wrote:

Here's my interpretation. The narrator is a weak young boy who is bullied by the local farm boys, particularly one named Hugh. With low esteem, he responds by attacking someone he believes cannot strike back. He probably doesn't know the man, or have any particular grievance towards him. But the Scottish Baptist, subject of all of those dark rumors spread among boys, is a legimate target for his frustrations by virtue of being different from the local folk, and therefore inferior to even the weak boy. Gradually, the boy musters enough courage to throw larger stones more boldly. There comes a day when the boy, with premeditation, brings some old chisels to maliciously throw into the woods, by far the boldest act he has attempted. Unexpectedly, a dog comes out to chase him.

This sounds just right to me. But I'm not sure if anything chased him at all, Scotsman, dog, or imagination? He threw a chisel, he heard something, he ran. Maybe nothing was there at all?

- Susan

=====

"Who wishes to be a meagre sailorman if he can be a learned and enter the government service? Why, in time you might be an official and never do anything for remainder of earthly existence. You could grow long fingernails, and become obese and dignified. " -
Patrick O'Brian


Date: Mon, 11 Oct 1999 15:56:01 -0400
From: Bob Key

Charlezzz says:

He flings in a castrated pair of chisels. Takes "green bark clean from the white wood. "

I must confess I haven't read the story, however, this part of your exposition did pique my curiosity. What are castrated chisels? I have mortise chisels, paring chisels, skew chisels, gooseneck chisels, patternmakers chisels, cold chisels - even a lowly butt chisel. But I've never heard of a castrated chisel. Posses us.

-Bob Key, who can hardly wait to tell 'em on the OLTOOLS group...


Date: Mon, 11 Oct 1999 17:08:02 EDT
From: Charles Munoz

In a message dated 10/11/99 3:57:33 PM, you wrote:

But I've never heard of a castrated chisel. Posses us.

Handles are gone. Busted tools.

Charlezzzz


Date: Mon, 11 Oct 1999 16:14:23 -0700
From: Susan Wenger

--- Don Seltzer wrote:
I was somewhat annoyed by the structure of the story, which caused some confusion (deliberate?), forcing me to stop in the middle and backup a few paragraphs.

I re-read the story, and Don's interpretation makes sense. Possibly the confusion/annoyance is deliberate - perhaps the point of the story, the point of most of the stories in the book, is that stuff happens that IS confusing. The narrator doesn't really know what happened, the reader certainly doesn't know what happened, man goes through life without understanding most of what happens all around him, we are insignificant specks in the landscape. We can describe our environs in the most beautiful and painstaking sensory description, but that's just the physical, concrete side. We don't understand ourselves or each other and we don't know why stuff happens to us that we may or may not deserve (or think we deserve). O'Brian describes what is there to be seen from one point of view, leaving it to us to decipher what happens there, based on our own experiences.

- Susan, with another message to follow

=====

"Who wishes to be a meagre sailorman if he can be a learned and enter the government service? Why, in time you might be an official and never do anything for remainder of earthly existence. You could grow long fingernails, and become obese and dignified. " -
Patrick O'Brian


Date: Mon, 11 Oct 1999 16:18:38 -0700
From: Susan Wenger

--- Don Seltzer wrote:
forcing me to stop in the middle and backup a few paragraphs.

Furthermore: The sentence structure is suspicious: "I had them purposely this bold day prepared, . . . " ". . . and here under my feet was the worst hill beginning. " O'Brian is too good at the language game for this to be awkward. What is he drawing arrows to with this structure? If the bad people are the Scotch brothers, who is the narrator, speaking in this stilted manner? Is this a Scotch structure? i.e. Are we all brothers, and do we fear those closest to ourselves? Help me out, somebody.

- Susan

=====

"Who wishes to be a meagre sailorman if he can be a learned and enter the government service? Why, in time you might be an official and never do anything for remainder of earthly existence. You could grow long fingernails, and become obese and dignified. " -
Patrick O'Brian


Date: Tue, 12 Oct 1999 12:50:49 -0700
From: Susan Wenger

John Finneran wrote:
This story seems to have the most in common with "The Happy Despatch ", particularly the offenses against something in the woods and the running away. Compare this from "Happy Despatch ": "still the everlasting hill stretched above and beyond him ... On and on: not to look up: on, on, on " (p.26) to this from "Not Liking ": "Running, running, running, and running up that that dreadful hill that pulled me back " (p.36)

If we read the story aloud, I can imagine "hill " being pronounced similar to "Hell. " That possibility adds a new meaning to the story, too.

=====

"Who wishes to be a meagre sailorman if he can be a learned and enter the government service? Why, in time you might be an official and never do anything for remainder of earthly existence. You could grow long fingernails, and become obese and dignified. " -
Patrick O'Brian


Date: Wed, 13 Oct 99 08:39:42 -0000
From: sdwilson

John Finneran wrote:

The second possibility is that the creature really is a mad dog, and its advance is checked by the end of a leash, but there are difficulties with this explanation as well.

If it was a dog, it doesn't necessarily need a leash. I thought it was stopped at the creek because it lost the scent of the narrator's trail.

Scott


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