Allan Gurganus spins three separate stories in this chronicle of life in a small North Carolina town.
(Page 2 of 2)
Then Caitlin returns home. A "brainiac" IQ was not enough to protect her mother from an African con man. Unable to cry when Caitlin was reported dead, Jean cries now at becoming a laughingstock in Falls: "I cried for the way only Tragedy had ever made me feel comically-and-completely alive," she says. "I thought of that now-trite line: Tragedy plus Time equals Comedy." Her happiness at Caitlin's "rebirth" only reveals the unhappiness at the core of her own life and permits her – perhaps – to begin to discover a happiness of her own, if only by admitting that perhaps her daughter is not quite as wonderful and selfless – or as lovable – as she is reputed to be.Skip to next paragraph
Subscribe Today to the Monitor
"Decoy," the 150-page novella that concludes the book, is worth the price of the entire collection. Except for his red and angry-looking Bush-and-Republicans-and-Fox-News bashing – the common skin disease of so much contemporary American fiction – Gurganus has tackled a subject that interests few of his peers: "Brands of cars in here I recognize but not what any of these crazy lazy people do all day," his main character grouses after reading an armful of recent novels. "I'm bored for 'em." Gurganus is interested in men and women who do more than talk about things, although his characters talk up a storm and in a unique and beguiling idiom. They may occasionally sound more literary (and liberal) than most ordinary southerners, but they aren't writers or literary intellectuals. The narrator of "Decoy" is an insurance man, for instance, and the main character is the town's doctor.
After retirement, Doc Roper discovers his second calling. Inspired by the work of traditional American folk artists, the doc begins to carve duck decoys so good you feel your own landing gear coming down (the crack is his). The better he gets, the more he retreats from his old friends among the people of Falls. His studio lights burn all night, but he doesn't see anyone anymore. As his fame grows, newspapers and magazines seek him out for profiles. He signs with a New York agent; his best pieces are reserved for museums and "top Manhattan collectors." His old friends could not afford them, even if he were inclined to sell them locally.
Doc's tragic error is to remain in Falls, despite his success. Those who flee the town of 6,803 "local souls" do so "to strain for stardom elsewhere." Those who stay behind are inured to frustration and failure. Except for Doc, who must have assumed the town's hex did not apply to him.
But it was not to be. A hurricane named Greta (obviously modeled upon Hurricane Floyd, the 1999 storm that dumped 17 inches of rain on North Carolina and caused rivers in the state to rise to 500-year flood levels) makes landfall one night in early September. The residents of Falls are not even aware their houses have flooded till they come downstairs in the morning. Gurganus is at his best at describing the aftermath of the storm, the treasures ruined, the lives turned inside out. No one suffers more than Doc Roper, whose entire collection of museum-quality decoys is swept away by the flood waters. Addled by the loss, he spends the rest of his life – he is in his 80s, though still vigorous – searching drainage trenches and roadside gulleys for his beloved ducks. In his grief over the disappearance of his second life's work, Doc becomes even more of an outsider in Falls than when he was establishing himself as a "Manhattan-worthy" artist. The town that once depended upon his sutures and scripts turns on him with a vengeance. There is talk about getting up a petition. Wandering the town's roadsides in shorts, carrying a walking stick with which he pokes at piles of rubbish, looking feral, the Doc is "sending the wrong signal to Falls' newcomers." Thus one man's tragedy becomes an entire town's comedy.
Sixty years ago, Lionel Trilling rejected the idea that Sherwood Anderson could ever be a major writer, accusing him of vaporous sentimentality. His one truth, though, if it is taken out of Anderson's hands, remains a firm truth: "The small legitimate existence, so necessary for the majority of men to achieve, is in our age so very hard, so nearly impossible, for them to achieve." In Falls, North Carolina, things are no easier than they were in Winesburg, Ohio. In Allan Gurganus's fiction, though, there is no sentimentalizing over life's hardness, perhaps because more of his men and women achieve a legitimate existence than is usual in contemporary American fiction.
D. G. Myers is the author of "The Elephants Teach: Creative Writing since 1880". He teaches English and Jewish studies at the Ohio State University.