Anger

Passages

Every passage tagged with this emotion in the Vela corpus. Search the body text, narrow by source or register, click through to a book’s profile to see how the passage sits with the rest of the work.

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• From The Golden Ass (Metamorphoses) (2)

  But Alcinus, though he were a man of great enterprise, yet could he not beware by Lamathus, nor voide himselfe from evill fortune, for on a day when he had entred into an old womans house to rob her, he went up into a high chamber, where hee should first have strangled her: but he had more regard to throw down the bags of mony and gold out at a window, to us that stood under; and when he was so greedy that he would leave nothing behinde, he went into the old womans bed where she lay asleep, and would have taken off the coverlet to have thrown downe likewise, but shee awaked, and kneeling on her knees, desired him in this manner: O sir I pray you cast not away such torn and ragged clouts into my neighbours houses, for they are rich enough, and need no such things. Then Alcinus thinking her words to be true, was brought in beleefe, that such things as he had throwne out already, and such things as hee should throw out after, was not fallen downe to his fellowes, but to other mens houses, wherefore hee went to the window to see, and as hee thought to behold the places round about, thrusting his body out of the window, the old woman marked him wel, and came behind him softly, and though shee had but small strength, yet with sudden force she tooke him by the heeles and thrust him out headlong, and so he fell upon a marvellous great stone and burst his ribs, wherby he vomited and spewed great flakes of blood, and presently died. Then wee threw him to the river likewise, as we had done Lamathus before.

• From The Genius of Judy: How Judy Blume Rewrote Childhood for All of Us (2023)

  “I tried to explain that there would always be mothers in my stories and that none of them were based on her,” she wrote in a 2004 introduction to Wifey . That didn’t help, either. “She said it didn’t matter, that everyone would think she was Sandy Pressman’s mother anyway.” But when it came to the sexual content of the novel, Blume said that her mother was less concerned. Essie typed out many of Judy’s manuscripts over the years and never said zip about the graphic scenes. She had learned a line from her former high school classmate, who happened to be Philip Roth’s mom, Bess. They ran into each other on the street one day and Bess Roth offered Essie the wisdom she’d acquired from being a parent to the author of Portnoy’s Complaint : the Oedipal, psychosexual 1969 literary sensation. “When they ask how she knows all those things,” Bess supposedly told her old friend, “you say, ‘I don’t know, but not from me!’ ” Chapter Sixteen Divorce “I don’t think we could have survived two more years together.” Even before it was published in the fall of 1978, Wifey caused drama. The racy novel wasn’t the right fit for Bradbury, which only handled books for children, so it was coming out with the Putnam imprint, under the eye of legendary editor in chief Phyllis Grann. Meanwhile, publicists at Blume’s paperback publisher, Dell, worried that Blume’s first book for adults would scare off her legions of loyal young readers. The trick was to herald Wifey properly but also make it very clear that this specific work was not intended for Blume’s typical audience. Judy wasn’t concerned about professional fallout. She was confident that kids would have the good sense to avoid Wifey , or at least put it down as soon as they scanned a page or two and realized the book wasn’t written for them. She brushed off any suggestions that she should publish it under a pseudonym. However, she was a little bit anxious about the impact the novel might have on her personal life. Since the story concerned a troubled marriage, she showed the manuscript to John before it came out, inviting his feedback. She assured him, “If there’s anything that really bothers you, I’ll change it,” as she told Bust in 1997. He handled it “brilliantly,” Blume said. “He didn’t say anything. He stayed out of it. I think that was really very smart.” As Wifey ’s publication date approached, the reviews started rolling in. Immediately, it was clear that the novel hit a nerve with the critics.

• From The Golden Ass (Metamorphoses) (2)

  torum nolentem puerum, sequentem tamen, et pudi- cissima illa uxore altrorsus disclusa solus ipse cum puero cubans gratissima corruptarum nuptiarum vin- dicta perfruebatur. Sed cum primum rota solis lucida diem. peperit, vocatis duobus e familia validissimis, quam altissime sublato puero, ferula nates eius obver- berans, “Tu autem," inquit “Tam mollis ac tener et admodum puer, defraudatis amatoribus aetatis tuae flore, mulieres appetis atque eas liberas et con- nubia lege sociata corrumpis et intempestivum tibi nomen adulteri vindicas?" His et pluribus verbis compellatum et insuper affatim plagis castigatum forinsecus abicit; at ille adulterorum omnium fortis- simus insperata potitus salute, tamen nates candidas illas noctu diuque diruptus, maerens profugit: nec setius pistor ille nuntium remisit uxori eamque pro- 29 tinus de sua proturbavit domo. At illa praeter genu- inam nequitiam contumelia etiam, quamvis iusta, tamen altius commota atque exasperata ad armillum revertitur et ad familiares feminarum artes accen- ditur, magnaque cura requisitam veteratricem quan- dam feminam, quae devotionibus ac maleficiis quid- vis efficere posse credebatur, multis exorat precibus multisque suffarcinat muneribus, alterum de duobus postulans, vel rursum mitigato conciliari marito, vel si id nequiverit, certe larva vel aliquo diro numine immisso violenter eius expugnari spiritum, Tunc ! Adlington's note to the passage is worthy of transcription : “Tn likesort do many nowadays-go to wise women which are 444 THE GOLDEN ASS, BOOK IX

• From Not That Bad: Dispatches from Rape Culture (2018)

  The next day, I call my friend Anisha and tell her I will never go to therapy again. After a sleepless night fighting to keep the past from consuming my present, I am furious that everything I’ve worked so hard to rebuild seems to have crumbled. “It feels like I’m right back there, in the week after it happened. The stakes are too high,” I say. “I had it all under control. I can deal with this myself.” Anisha tells me, “A good therapist knows you have to live in the house while you remodel.” 18. I lay awake all night thinking about how I am completely exhausted, staving off sleep and trying to stop thinking about what might happen if I allow myself to close my eyes. I watch the sun rise, which tells me it’s time to start again. 19. I find H. on the Psychology Today website, a blog that also allows you to search for therapists. According to the site, H. is the only therapist in my area who has noted that he sees transgender clients (and whose description doesn’t strike me as completely disingenuous). I am cisgender, but I imagine a therapist who only sees cis clients has little understanding of gender and little recourse for facilitating healing. I call him. We set up an appointment. At the end of the session, I am amazed at myself for sitting in a room alone with a man for forty-five minutes. I tell H. so, and he nods. We talk during our sessions, or don’t. At the end of each meeting, I promise to come back next week. A therapist with an office down the hall from H. has a dog. I tell H. I saw the dog, and he is adorable. H. asks me if I’d like the dog to be at one of our sessions. I say, “Yes.” I am surprised when, the following week, the dog is in H.’s office waiting for me. I don’t want to thank H. Instead, I say, “I’ve never really said all of it out loud.” H. does not say, “What are you talking about?” He does not say, “Really, eight years later?” Or, “At least you weren’t killed.” H. says, “I’m here to listen if you want to tell me.” And then, “If you don’t want to speak, I am still here.” “Will it help?” I ask. I want a definitive answer, even as I suspect that men with definitive answers about my body have something to do with why I’m there in the first place.

• From The Golden Ass (Metamorphoses) (2)

  fear the metes and bounds of his land, to the end he might at least have so much ground of his father’s heritage as might bury him. Amongst whom he found these three brethren as friends to help and aid him as far as they might in his adversity and tribulation. Howbeit the presence of all these honest citizens could in no wise persuade or frighten this madman to leave his power and extortion, and though at the first he did shew temperance in his tongue, yet of a sudden, the more they went about with gentle words to tell him his faults, the more would he fret and fume, swearing all the oaths under God, and pledging his own life and his dearest, that he little regarded the presence of the whole city, and incontinently he would command his servants to take the poor man by the ears, and carry him out of his cottage and thrust him afar off. This greatly offended all the standers-by ; and then forthwith one of the brethren spake unto him some- what boldly, saying: “It is but a folly to have such affiance in your riches, and to use your tyrannous pride to threaten, when as the law is common for the poor alike, and a redress may be had by it to suppress the insolence of the rich." These words made his harsh temper to burn more than oil on flames, or brimstone in a fire, or a Fury's scourge of whips, and he became furious to madness, saying that they should be all hanged and their laws too, before he would be subject to any person: and therewithal he called out his bandogs and great mastiffs that followed the sheep on his farm, which accustomed to eat the carrion and carcasses of dead beasts in the fields, and had been trained to set upon such as passed by the way. These he commanded should be put upon all the assistants to tear them in 457 ST LUCIUS APULEIUS

• From In the Unlikely Event (2015)

  Royer said to Uncle Henry was “I could expel her for this.” Expel? He’d actually said the word out loud. “She defied my orders. Mrs. Wallace told her the story was not appropriate and what did she do—made copies and handed them out at school. Have you read the story?” Mr. Royer asked Henry. “Yes, I have. I was impressed.” “It’s hogwash!” “Pardon me?” Henry said. “Would you want me to allow the young Adolf Hitler to express his opinions in our school paper?” Adolf Hitler! He was comparing her to Adolf Hitler? “You can’t be serious,” Henry said calmly. “I hardly think that’s a fair comparison.” Mr. Royer came out from behind his desk and began to adjust the bird prints on the wall, tapping the side of one drawing, then another. Miri was stuck on Adolf Hitler so missed whatever Henry said next except it ended in freedom of expression. Mr. Royer whipped around. “Don’t lecture me on free speech, young man.” Tiny began to cough, just as she had the last time they were in his office. “Do you need water, Mrs. Wallace?” Mr. Royer asked, annoyed. Tiny shook her head. Again, she dug out a cough drop and put it in her mouth. “I think the best thing for all involved would be for Miri to leave the school paper of her own free will,” Mr. Royer said. He was kicking her off the paper? Tiny held a tissue to her mouth, got rid of the cough drop and cleared her throat a few times. “She’s a good student,” Tiny managed to say. “And a fine young reporter. She’s never been in trouble. This would be very harsh punishment.” She eyed the pitcher of water on Mr. Royer’s desk. Uncle Henry poured a cup and handed it to Tiny. She drank it down. “You think this is harsh punishment, Mrs. Wallace?” “Yes, I do,” Tiny said with conviction, “and I’m concerned it will affect the morale of our other editors and reporters.” Henry said, “Why not give Miri another chance, Mr. Royer? I’m sure she understands now that your strong feelings come with serious consequences.” “I don’t want another chance!” Miri said. “What good is a newspaper when its reporters can’t write about what’s on the minds of its readers?” “That’s it!” Mr. Royer said. “You’re off the paper and you’re on probation for the rest of the school year. One more incident and I promise you, Miss Ammerman, you will be expelled.” He said the last few words very slowly, making sure they sank in. Tears stung her eyes but she would not give him the satisfaction of seeing her cry. Henry reached for Miri’s hand. “Mr. Royer, with all due respect—” “I suppose you’re a bleeding heart, Mr.

• From In the Unlikely Event (2015)

  “ ‘Feel free to consult a lawyer’?” Miri asked. “Feel free!” Rusty repeated. “Who does that bitch think she is?” Rusty went crazy, throwing her shoes against the wall. “He thinks he can walk into my life and destroy everything just like he did sixteen years ago? I’ll kill him first.” Miri was sure that at that moment, Rusty meant it. Her ferocity scared Miri. “Did you think I’d never find out?” she asked Miri. “Frekki fooled me. She never said he’d be at Gruning’s.” “Gruning’s! My god—you had ice cream with him?” “I’m sorry, Mom. I didn’t know what to do.” “You should have told me the minute you got home. I’d have stopped this immediately. I’d have warned Frekki and her brother, if they ever, ever contacted you again, I’d have them arrested. That’s what you should have done. You can’t trust him, Miri. Don’t let that smile fool you, those eyes…” “I don’t trust him. I don’t even like him. I never want to see him again!” This wasn’t completely true. She was curious about her mother and him. “What bothers me is you didn’t tell me. You kept it a secret and now Frekki is asking for a meeting. I trusted you to go to the Paper Mill Playhouse with Frekki. I trusted you, Miri.” “But, Mom, I didn’t know he’d be there.” “What’s going on?” Henry called from the foyer. They hadn’t heard him come in. “A situation,” Rusty called back. Henry ran up the stairs two at a time and burst into the kitchen. “Mama?” he asked Rusty, and Miri could read the fear in his eyes. “No,” Rusty told him. “Mike Monsky has surfaced.” “Mike Monsky?” Henry said this as if they were talking about Frankenstein. “And guess what?” Rusty said. “Miri’s met him but didn’t think she needed to tell me.” Henry gave Miri a questioning look but Miri didn’t say anything. “And now Frekki’s cooked up some mishegoss about getting together with a Rabbi Beiderman,” Rusty said. “To make a plan.” “A plan?” Henry asked. Miri handed him Frekki’s note. Henry read it. “I know a good lawyer,” he said. “I’m sure he’ll advise us as a family friend.” The lawyer, Gregg Bender, came over after dinner. He and Henry were old friends. They used to play basketball together at the Y. Rusty made coffee. “She doesn’t want to see him,” Rusty told Gregg Bender, offering cream and sugar for his coffee and a plate of store-bought cookies. “Isn’t that right, Miri? Isn’t that what you told me?” “I did say that.” “There!” Rusty said. “You see? If she never wants to see him again why should we agree to have this meeting? Can someone please explain that to me?” “Did you mean it?” Henry asked Miri. “Are you afraid of him?” “No, I’m not afraid of him.” And no, I didn’t really mean it but how am I supposed to let you know that without Rusty going crazy?

• From In the Unlikely Event (2015)

  “I understand how you feel, Rusty,” Gregg Bender said. “But this is about Miri’s future. As I see it, this could be an opportunity. Let’s say Mr. Monsky puts away a nest egg for her education—” “I’ve already started a savings account for her education,” Rusty said. “Every week since I started working I’ve put something into it.” “So have I,” Henry said, surprising Miri. “It’s not a lot but it’ll help pay for her tuition.” “Thank you, Uncle Henry,” Miri whispered, afraid if she said anything more she’d start bawling. “You see?” Rusty said to Gregg. “We have it all worked out. So why should we say yes to Frekki and her brother?” “For one thing, to avoid this matter going to court,” Gregg said. “To keep it friendly. ” “Friendly?” Rusty gave a false laugh. “That’s a good one!” “For another…” And now Gregg looked at Miri. “Because she has a right to know her father.” “He is no father!” Rusty turned on her heel and headed for her bedroom. She slammed the door like a frustrated, angry teenager. “This is very hard for Rusty,” Henry said. Gregg nodded. “I imagine so.” Miri wanted to say, What about me? Don’t you think it’s hard for me? But she didn’t. —RABBI BEIDERMAN’S HOUSE was on a quiet street in Maplewood in a neighborhood of pretty old houses with flowering trees and lawns that would soon be green. Daffodils and tulips were sprouting. Miri might have sat in the rumble seat today if Henry still had his old coupe. But he’d given that to Leah so she no longer had to take the bus to work and he drove a new Chevy. He’d gotten a good deal on last year’s model. Nobody wanted a maroon car. They passed a church as they turned onto the rabbi’s street. Wasn’t it strange for a rabbi to live near a church? The lawyer, Gregg Bender, was already there, parked in his car, waiting for them. The rabbi was clean-shaven, dressed in weekend clothes, a tweed jacket over a blue oxford cloth shirt, no tie. She’d never seen a rabbi out of his robes. She’d never thought of a rabbi having a nice house on a nice street in a good neighborhood, wearing regular clothes, having a wife and kids. He welcomed them into a book-lined room with a sofa and four club chairs around a coffee table. Photos of his children at different ages were scattered around the room. Henry made the introductions. “Glad to meet you, Rabbi,” he said, shaking hands. “I’m Henry Ammerman, this is my sister, Rusty Ammerman, my niece, Miri Ammerman, and Gregg Bender, our lawyer, who is here as a family friend.” “Welcome to all of you,” the rabbi said. “I admire your work, Mr. Ammerman. Please, make yourselves comfortable. We have coffee and Danish.

• From In the Unlikely Event (2015)

  Bad things happen in threes, her cousin Belle reminded her, but Irene couldn’t say that Rusty having a baby at eighteen was a bad thing, or maybe it was, given the circumstances, but the baby herself was not. The baby, Miri, was a precious gift, with her grandfather’s high cheekbones and dimpled cheek. Not a beauty like Rusty, not yet, but growing into her looks. The eyes, she knew where they came from, but she kept that to herself. She hoped to god she would never again come face-to-face with the person responsible for those eyes. If she did she didn’t know what she might do. He’d better hope she wouldn’t have a carving knife in her hand. If she kept thinking of him she might need a nitro under her tongue. She brushed off her hands as if brushing away bad thoughts and poured herself a small glass of sherry. —RUSTY CAME DOWNSTAIRS to help at the open house. Irene looked smart in a simple gray wool dress with a white collar. She was at her most charming, chatting with her customers, offering a glass of sherry to the few husbands who’d accompanied their wives, and to the women, too. “It will warm you up,” she told them. Was anyone better at this than her mother? Rusty didn’t think so. Irene had once confided to Rusty she’d had the opportunity, when she was young, to marry into the family who’d started Volupté. But her parents thought Max Ammerman was a better catch. He was fifteen years older and already established in business. If she’d married the Volupté boy she’d be powdering her nose in the best clubs and restaurants, instead of selling compacts wholesale from home. It was still early but already it looked like Irene would get a good turnout. Rusty replenished the stock from Irene’s closet, handled the cash and the occasional check, and was available for gift-wrapping. When the phone rang Rusty excused herself and picked it up. “Irene?” “No, this is her daughter, Rusty.” “Oh, Rusty, dear, I haven’t seen you in ages. This is Estelle Sapphire from Bayonne. I can’t get to Elizabeth tonight. I’m busy packing, leaving for Florida in the morning, but I was hoping Irene could put away six compacts for me. My husband will pick them up tomorrow on his way back from the airport. He’s driving to Miami but I’m flying.” Lucky Mrs. Sapphire, Rusty thought, to be escaping this weather. She wouldn’t mind a trip to Florida, but she took her two weeks of vacation in the summer so she and Miri could spend time together down the shore. “Any special design?” Rusty asked. “No, dear. Whatever Irene thinks.” “Price range?” “Mid. Really, I’m just taking them in case I meet someone, a good hairdresser, a pleasant maid. You know. As a way to say thank you. So much nicer than giving money.” “Of course,” Rusty said. “I’ll get them ready for you right now.” “Thank you, Rusty.

• From In the Unlikely Event (2015)

  and ruining my life, my little sister’s life and my mother’s life.” “How am I supposed to do that? They’re grown-ups. They do what they want.” “Tell your mother she has to decide between you and my father.” Miri shook her head. She didn’t think she could do that. Suppose she came out the loser? “Two—refuse to go to Las Vegas.” “Las Vegas! What are you talking about?” “Don’t tell me you don’t know. They’re going to Las Vegas together at the end of the school year and you’re going with them.” “No I’m not.” “If you don’t stop them, you are. You’re going to Las Vegas and you’ll never see me or your boyfriend again.” “Stop!” “Tell your mother to stop, not me. And just so you know, my father begged my mother to go with him. He was practically on his knees begging her to go. He promised Fern and me our own horses. But she said no. So my father found someone else to go with him. Your mother!” “Why should I believe you?” “I really don’t care who you believe. I’m just telling you what’s going on. And here’s something else you should know. My mother’s at her lawyer’s office right now. She’s going to take my father to the cleaners if they get divorced. There won’t be anything left for your mother or you. I hope you’ll be happy living on spaghetti.” Miri liked spaghetti but she wasn’t getting into that now. “I hate them!” Natalie shouted, pressing the sides of her head with her hands as if she were in agony. “I hate my father, your mother and I hate you!” “What’d I do?” “You found them.” “Who told you that?” “My father came clean. He told my mother everything last night, and she told me. She says your mother is no better than a whore.” A whore! Her once-upon-a-time best friend was calling her mother a whore? Miri got a sharp pain in her chest. Maybe she was going to die, just like Lulu.

• From Fear of Flying (1973)

  She looked at me with contempt. “You don’t know a thing about having kids.” “And you don’t know a thing about writing.” I was really disgusted with myself for sounding so infantile. Randy always made me feel like five again. “But you’d love having kids,” she persisted, “you really would.” “For God’s sake, you’re probably right! But you’re enough of an Ethel Kennedy for one family—why the hell do we need any more? And why should I do it if I have so many doubts about it? Why should I force myself? For whose good? Yours? Mine? The nonexistent kids? It’s not as if the human race is about to die out if I don’t have kids!” “But aren’t you even curious to have the experience?” “I guess…but the curiosity isn’t exactly killing me. Besides, I have time….” “You’re almost thirty. You don’t have as much time as you think.” “Oh, God,” I said, “you really can’t stand anyone to do anything but what you’ve done. Why do I have to copy your life and your mistakes? Can’t I even make my own damned mistakes?” “What mistakes?” “Like bringing up your children to think they’re Catholics, like lying about your religion, like denying who you are…” “I’ll kill you!” Randy shrieked, coming at me with her arms raised. I ducked into the hall closet as I had so many times in childhood. There were days when Randy used to beat me up regularly. (At least if I have kids I’ll never make the mistake of having more than one. Being an only child is supposed to be such a psychological hardship, but it was all I ever wished for as a child.) “PIERRE!” I heard Randy screaming outside the door. I turned the lock and pulled the light cord. Then I backed into my mother’s sable coat (smelling of old Joy and stale Diorissimo) and sat beneath it cross-legged among the boots. Above me were two more racks of coats going up high into the ceiling. Old fur coats, English children’s coats with leather leggings, ski parkas, rain capes, trench coats, autographed slickers from our camp days, school blazers with name tapes in the necks and forgotten skate keys in the pockets, velvet evening coats, brocade coats, polo coats, mink coats…thirty-five years of changing fashions and four grown daughters…thirty-five years of buying and spending and raising kids and screaming…and what did my mother have to show for it? Her sable, her mink, and her resentment? “Isadora!” It was Pierre now. He rapped at the door. I sat on the floor and rocked my knees. I had no intention of getting up. Such a lovely smell of mothballs and Joy. “Isadora!”

• From In the Unlikely Event (2015)

  “Why don’t we just go over, ring the bell and ask what’s going on?” “I don’t think that’s the best idea. I think if they wanted us to know, they’d tell us.” She could see Eleanor digesting that. “Maybe you’re right. Anyway, we’ve got a paper to put to bed.” Miri said, “I meant to tell you, I wrote a feature story.” She hadn’t planned to say anything about the story she’d started on the night of the meeting at City Hall. “What’s it about?” “The situation.” “You mean the situation ?” “Yes, that. Not about Natalie.” “When can I see it?” “I’ll clean it up tonight and bring it in tomorrow.” “Good. We could use an interesting story about the situation.” —THAT NIGHT Miri took the story she’d written from her desk drawer. Her own indignation spilled out as she quickly made changes, adding the latest crash to the story. She copied it over in ink. Then she took a bath, using Rusty’s citrus bath salts. She slept well for the first time in a long time. The next morning she handed the story to Eleanor. When they met in the cafeteria at lunchtime Eleanor said, “I like it. It makes you think. We can get it into the spring issue if we hurry. I’ll run it by Tiny this afternoon.” Later, Tiny took Miri aside in homeroom. “Good story, Miri,” she said. “Provocative.” “Thank you,” Miri said. She wasn’t sure provocative was a compliment but good story was. “I’ll have to show it to Mr. Royer.” “Mr. Royer…why?” “As principal he has a veto over controversial stories.” “You think my story is controversial?” Tiny smiled. “Don’t you?” She didn’t wait for Miri to answer. “But I’m on your side, so stop worrying.” Until then she hadn’t been worrying. —ON WEDNESDAY, Tiny reported to Miri that after reading her story Mr. Royer said they couldn’t run it in Hamilton Headlines. Miri was speechless. “He doesn’t think it’s appropriate. It could be seen as inflammatory.” When Miri still didn’t respond, Tiny said, “I’m so sorry, Miri. I tried to explain but he was adamant. No stories about the crashes.” “That’s crazy!” Miri said, finding her voice. “All the kids are talking about it. He can’t pretend those airplanes didn’t crash.” “I think he’s concerned about how the parents might react.” “The parents? They don’t read our paper.” “All it takes is one parent to start an uproar.” “Does that mean we’re not supposed to have opinions?” “I understand what you’re saying and I agree with you. But I can’t risk my job.” “Your job?” “Yes. That’s how it works. I’m a teacher. Mr. Royer is my boss.” “Then who stands up for us, the students?” Tiny shook her head. “Welcome to the real world.” —“I WROTE a story about the crashes for the school paper,” Miri told Henry at dinner. It was one of the rare nights Henry was home in time to eat with them. “Mrs.

• From In the Unlikely Event (2015)

  His father stepped into the den. “Daddy!” Fern ran to him, jumped into his arms. “You’re not supposed to be here,” his mother said to his father. “Steve...I’d like to talk to you privately,” his father said. “Sorry, Dad.” He faced his mother. “I have some big news...” His mother’s face changed. Was she scared or expectant? “I’ve joined up.” His mother put down her needlepoint. “Joined what?” “You’re in the army now,” he sang, marching around the room. “You’re not behind a plow, you’ll never get rich, diggin’ a ditch, you’re in the army now.” Fern laughed. “What is he talking about?” his mother asked his father. “He enlisted,” his father said. His mother jumped up and lunged at his father. “You put him up to this!” “Corinne...” his father said, setting Fern down. “He’s supposed to go to college, not the army,” his mother shouted. Natalie appeared in the doorway. “This sounds interesting.” “Did you know?” his mother asked his father. “Did you?” “I just found out,” his father said. “He can’t do this. He’s a boy. He has no experience.” “Take another look, Mom,” Steve said, pulling himself up to his full six-foot height, shoulders thrown back, eyes straight ahead. “No!” Corinne cried. “I won’t have him throwing his life away.” She ran out of the den with Steve’s dad right behind her. A door slammed. Voices were raised. “Nice going, Steve,” Natalie said. “I figured you’d appreciate the drama.” “Will you wear an army suit?” Fern asked. “It’s called a uniform,” Steve said. “And yes, I will.” “Will we have a cake to celebrate?” “I doubt it,” Steve said. “How about a gun?” Natalie asked. “Will you get a gun?” “Everybody in the army gets a gun.” “Don’t bring it home.” — LATER, when he unwrapped Daisy’s graduation present he found something that looked like a handmade book, with long pages covered in red construction paper and black letters spelling out Player Piano by Kurt Vonnegut. Behind it was an old issue of The New Yorker magazine, dated January 31, 1948, with a paper clip marking a story, “A Perfect Day for Bananafish,” by J. D. Salinger. He opened the card. Dear Steve, I convinced the manager of the Ritz Book Shop to give me these galley proofs of a book that will be published this summer. It is Mr. Vonnegut’s first novel. Something tells me you will like this writer. Congratulations on your graduation. Wishing you all the best, always. Daisy P.S. The Salinger story is one I recently came across while browsing through a stack of old magazines. For some crazy reason Daisy’s gift made him cry. Maybe because it meant somebody did know him, after all.

• From In the Unlikely Event (2015)

  Christina Jack was beside himself. They were in his room at Mrs. O’Malley’s. He paced up and down, punching his fist into his open hand while she sat primly on the edge of the bed. “And now Mason won’t come to Las Vegas because of that little bitch.” “Do you know why Miri broke up with him?” Christina asked. “No. Do you?” “Because he lied to her. Because he’s been...” She tried to put it delicately. “He’s been sleeping with Polina, the girl who cooks at Janet, the one Daisy took in after she lost everything in the Williamson Street crash.” “Mason?” “Yes, Mason. Polina told Daisy and Daisy told me. She thought I should know because of our...closeness.” “My little brother?” “Yes, your little brother. Polina said Mason broke up with her right after Miri found out he was cheating.” “This is crazy. We’re talking about kids.” “Polina’s not a kid. But she has one.” “Jesus, Mary and Joseph! How do we know this is really true?” “Why would Daisy lie to me? She’s not a gossip. But you should ask Mason yourself.” “Jesus, Mary and Joseph!” “I wish you’d stop saying that.” “What should I say?” “I’m sorry, Jack.” Christina softened. “It must be hard for you to hear this.” “What’s hard is that he thinks he can’t confide in me, that he thinks he can’t come with us.” “Give him time. Let him cool off. I’ll bet you anything he’ll change his mind. If not right away, then as soon as he finishes high school.” “But that’s another year. Who’s going to be around to watch over him, make sure he’s okay until then?” “Any boy who can run into a burning plane, not once, not twice, but how many times?” “I lost count,” Jack said. “Well, any boy who can keep his head straight through all of that is going to be okay.” “But you can’t be sure, can you?” “If you want to stay...” “I didn’t say that.” “Because if you don’t want to leave him...” “I didn’t say that, either.” “All I mean is, I’d understand. And my parents would be over the moon.” “Until you tell them about us.” Jack took a couple of practice swings with an imaginary baseball bat. “When are you going to tell them, Mrs. McKittrick?” “When the time is right.” Fortunately, he didn’t question her about when that would be. Because she hadn’t the faintest idea. “Are we having our first fight?” she asked. “We’re never going to fight.” He fell back on the bed and took her in his arms.

• From Fear of Flying (1973)

  “I wish it worked that way. But it doesn’t. You’re always reliving your childhood whether you admit it or not—what the hell do you think you’re doing with Adrian Goodlove? He looks exactly like your father—or maybe you hadn’t noticed.” “I hadn’t noticed. He doesn’t look anything like my father.” Bennett snorted. “That’s a laugh.” “Look—I’m not going to argue with you about whether or not he looks like my father, but this is the first goddamned time you’ve ever showed any interest in me or acted as if you loved me at all. I have to bloody well fuck someone before your very eyes or you don’t give a damn about me. That’s pretty funny, isn’t it? Doesn’t your psychoanalytic theory tell you anything about that? Maybe it’s your Oedipal problem now. Maybe I’m your mother and Adrian resembles your father. Why don’t we all sit down and have a group grope about it? Actually, I think Adrian’s in love with you. I’m just the go-between. It’s you he really wants.” “It wouldn’t surprise me at all. I told you I think he’s queer.” “Why don’t we all sleep together and find out?” “No, thanks. But don’t let me stop you if that’s what you want.” “I won’t.” “Go ahead,” Bennett screamed with more passion than I had ever heard him muster. “Go off with him! You’ll never do any serious work again. I’m the only person in your life who’s held you together this long—but go ahead and leave! You’ll screw yourself up so thoroughly that you’ll never do anything worthwhile again.” — “How can you expect to have anything interesting to write about if you’re so afraid of new experiences?” Adrian asked. I had just told him that I wouldn’t go with him but had decided to return home with Bennett instead. We were sitting in Adrian’s Triumph, parked on a back street near the university. (Bennett was at a meeting on “Aggression in Large Groups.”) “I plunge into new experiences all the time. That’s just the trouble.” “Bullshit. You’re a scared little princess. I offer you an experience that could really change you, one you really could write about, and you run away. Back to Bennett and New York. Back to your safe little marital cubbyhole. Christ—I’m glad I’m not married anymore if this is what it leads to. I thought you had more guts than this. After reading all your ‘sensual and erotic’ poems—in inverted commas—I thought better of you than this.” He gave me a disgusted look. “If I spent all my time being sensual and erotic, I’d be too tired to write about it,” I pleaded. “You’re a fake,” he said, “a total fake. You’ll never have anything worthwhile to write about if you don’t grow up. Courage is the first principle. You’re just scared.” “Don’t bully me.” “Who’s bullying you? I’m just leveling with you. You’ll never know fuck-all about writing if you don’t learn courage.”

• From In the Unlikely Event (2015)

  [image "Elizabeth Daily Post" file=Image00024.jpg] [image "Elizabeth Daily Post" file=Image00024.jpg] A COMMUNITY PULLS TOGETHERBy Henry AmmermanJAN. 26 — The mayor calls it “The Umbrella of Death.” Others are calling it “Plane Crash City.” No matter what you call it, the citizens of Elizabeth are reeling. An angry crowd of more than 1,000 gathered at City Hall last night, demanding the closing of Newark Airport following the second crash of a plane in 38 days. They did not believe that a new runway under construction at Newark Airport would make a substantial difference to the safety of the passengers on the planes or the residents on the ground. They formed committees, threatened to stage a caravan of cars parked on runways, making it impossible for planes to take off or land, and signed petitions. Thousands more are expected to sign similar petitions in county churches at Sunday services. The meeting ended with a series of threats—Close Newark Airport or we’ll close it for you! Where Will It End?When a man shouted, “Where will it end?” there were no answers to his question. Captain Eddie Rickenbacker, president of Eastern Air Lines, said in a press conference called by the Air Transport Association that Newark was “a preferred airport” to pilots under any weather conditions. He said in most pilots’ opinion “it is the best situated, the best equipped and the safest airport in the entire country.” Ten pilots representing five airlines confirmed the statement. They said their personal choice in bad weather would always be Newark. But such talk had little effect on the people of Elizabeth. Indignation, which had run in angry undercurrents through the city, boiled to the surface. Now the community is pulling together. The Red Cross is asking for blood donations for those injured on the ground, and for food and clothing for the displaced. Volunteers are needed to provide temporary housing. “It’s time to take action,” says Richard F. Green, Red Cross disaster director. “This could have happened to any of us.” 16 [image "image" file=Image00005.jpg] [image file=Image00005.jpg] DaisyChristina told Daisy about Polina, the young mother who worked in the kitchen at Janet Memorial, who’d lost everything when the plane smashed into her apartment house on Williamson Street. “She has a little boy,” Christina said, showing her a photo of a towheaded three-year-old. “My family can’t take them in. We already have my sister, her husband and their little boy sleeping in the attic room, and my grandparents in my sister’s old bedroom.” That was more than Christina had ever said about her family. Daisy lived in a small house in Linden with her older sister, Evelyn. They had a spare room as big as a closet. Daisy knew if she asked, Evelyn would say no. So she didn’t ask. She brought Polina and Stash home that night. Evelyn didn’t make a scene in front of Polina. She waited until Daisy had made up the bed in the spare room, before giving Daisy hell.

• From In the Unlikely Event (2015)

  “What’s wrong with you?” Natalie said. “You’re turning purple. You can’t scare me if that’s what you’re trying to do.” Natalie grabbed her by the shoulders and shook, then slapped her across the face, which got her breathing again. Miri jumped up. She had to get out of there, had to get fresh air into her lungs. She knocked over the chair blocking Natalie’s door, flung the door open and fled down the stairs, shouting at Natalie, who was right behind her, “Never say that about my mother again! You hear me? Never!” Then she was out the kitchen door, and onto her bicycle. Natalie followed her, screaming, “You know what they do in Las Vegas? They drop A-bombs in the desert. That’s what they do for fun!” Miri’s fantasy was coming true but not the way it was supposed to. Corinne was supposed to meet her demise quickly, painlessly. She and Natalie were supposed to be sisters. They were supposed to be one big happy family, living in the red-brick house on Shelley Avenue. Not in some godforsaken place called Las Vegas, where they drop A-bombs for fun. Christina She waited until Sunday dinner, when they were all together around the dining room table—her parents, her grandparents, Athena and her husband, Thad, who hardly ever spoke at family gatherings, and their toddler, Alex, who was playing under the table. She waited until the lamb, the eggplant and the salad courses had been cleared from the table. Then, as her mother passed around little dessert cakes, Christina said, “Mama, Baba—you know I love you.” She’d been practicing in her room. She hoped it wasn’t a mistake to bring this up in front of the whole family but she wanted to get it over with all at once and she figured her parents would be less likely to go cuckoo in front of her grandparents and little Alex. She had their attention now. Mama and Baba looked from one to the other. “I’ve got an opportunity,” she continued, “a wonderful job opportunity with Dr. Osner in another place—” “What place?” her mother asked. “Las Vegas,” she said. “Las Vegas.” Her mother repeated this twice, then asked, “Where is Las Vegas?” Athena said, “You don’t mean Las Vegas, Nevada? You’re not telling Mama and Baba you’re moving to Las Vegas, Nevada?” She had hoped Athena would keep her mouth shut, for once. She should have known better. “How far is this place?” Mama asked. “Almost as far as California,” Athena said, holding her pregnant belly. She’d already gained close to forty pounds. Her maternity dress was snug across her middle. Mama clutched her chest. “Nico,” she said to Baba. “Do something!” “I’m not moving there.” Christina tried to reassure them. “Think of it as college. Two years of college but it won’t cost you anything. Instead I’ll be getting paid. And I’ll come home for the holidays.” Baba said, “That Irish boy, he’s going, too?”

• From In the Unlikely Event (2015)

  “I’m sorry this is the way you found out,” Rusty said, wrapping the raincoat around her middle and tying the belt. “We were waiting until the divorce to tell you.” “What divorce?” “Arthur and Corinne’s.” “They can’t get divorced. That will make Natalie sicker than she is now.” “Natalie knows,” Rusty said. “You told her but not me?” “She doesn’t know about her father and me. She only knows they’re separating.” “I’ll never forgive you for this. And I’ll never trust you again, either.” “Honey—” “Don’t honey me...and don’t act like everything’s going to be okay, because it’s not.” “I know this is a shock. I wish I could have told you sooner. I don’t expect you to understand right away. But I hope—” “What happened to honesty is the best policy? What happened to trust? All those things you told me when you accused me of betraying you? You probably lied about my father, too.” “I never lied to you about your father. And I’m not lying to you now.” “Did you tell him you were pregnant? Did he leave because of that?” How did this turn into a fight about Mike Monsky? Rusty sat down. “He enlisted before I knew. Later, Irene wanted to tell his family but I wouldn’t let her.” So that’s how it was. “I didn’t want to marry him, Miri. It never would have worked, and by then he’d shipped out anyway.” “Does Nana know about Dr. O? Does Uncle Henry?” “No one knows. We’ve tried to be discreet to avoid hurting anyone we love.” “Is this why Corinne and Dr. O have been fighting?” “I can’t answer questions about their marriage.” “He gave Corinne diamond earrings for Hanukkah. Did you know that?” “No.”

• From The Divine Comedy (1950)

  He dieth unbaptized and without faith; where is that justice which condemneth him? where is his fault, in that he not believes?’ Now who art thou who wouldst sit upon the seat to judge at a thousand miles away with the short sight that carries but a span? Truly to him who goeth subtly to work with me, were not the Scripture over you, there were marvellous ground for questioning. O animals of earth, minds gross! the primal Will, good in itself, never departed from its own self which is the highest good. All is just which doth harmonize with it; no created good draweth it to itself, 5 but it by raying forth giveth rise to it.” As right above her nest the stork sweepeth when she hath fed her brood, and as the one which she hath fed iooketh up to her; so did (and so did I uplift my brow) the blessed image, which plied its wings driven by so many counsels. Wheeling it sang, and said: “As are my notes to thee who understandest them not, such is the eternal judgment to you mortals.” When those glowing flames of the Holy Spirit were stilled, yet in the ensign which gained the Romans reverence from all the world, it began again: “To this realm ne’er rose one who believed not in Christ, neither before nor after he was nailed unto the tree. But see, many cry Christ, Christ, who at the judgment shall be far less near to him than such as know not Christ; and such Christians the Ethiop shall condemn when the two colleges shall dispart, the one for ever rich, the other stripped.

• From The Genius of Judy: How Judy Blume Rewrote Childhood for All of Us (2023)

  “My mother had many, many talents and much to offer,” Blume said in Judy Blume’s Story . “Everyone would have been a lot happier, including my father, if she had worked outside the home.” Suddenly, Judy was questioning everything about their relationship. During adolescence, her childhood visions of becoming “the hero, the cowgirl, the detective” got replaced “with fantasies of growing up and getting married and having babies,” she once said. She ascribed this switch to her mother’s influence. Her whole life had been what Essie wanted for her, and the thought made her hot with anger. If she wasn’t careful, she’d never stop being that anxious and agreeable schoolgirl. Her mother’s voice was such a part of her that she heard it ringing in her head like a relentlessly catchy jingle. Your kids are what’s important . Be a quiet and docile wife . Had this ever been what she had wanted for herself? She wasn’t sure. There were other models of womanhood that had appealed to Judy, as far back as she could remember. Her married but childless aunt had been a school principal—a big accomplishment in her day. And then there was her father’s longtime receptionist, Miss Fay. Miss Fay was a spinster who lived with her sister, a widow, and their parents. Not exactly the picture of success in the 1950s, but to Judy she was absolutely magnetic. “She had a Roadster with a rumble seat,” she told Bust . “She smoked and could tell dirty jokes with the guys. She seemed exciting to me,” Blume said, adding that it was Miss Fay who taught her how to use mascara before prom. Judy was inspired by Miss Fay, enough so that she wrote a similar character into her 2015 novel for adults, In the Unlikely Event , which is set almost entirely in the 1950s. Daisy Dupree is the beautiful, eminently capable secretary to Dr. O, Elizabeth, New Jersey’s most successful and beloved dentist ( Judy has said Dr. O was based on her father). She’s single and childless, and over the course of her career with Dr. O, she becomes a vital part of his ecosystem—booking his appointments but also babysitting his kids; cleaning up after him when he smashes a plaster-of-paris figurine in a private fit of rage; mentoring his newer employees; keeping his secrets. Like Miss Fay, Daisy lives with her widowed sister. She had been married once and for only two weeks when a doctor diagnosed a congenital defect that meant she would never be able to have penetrative sex or bear children. Her husband had their marriage annulled. And Daisy, formidable, found freedom in his abandonment. “After that, she’d reinvented herself,” we’re told in In the Unlikely Event. “She’d learned to throw back a Scotch, to straddle a chair, smoke a pack of Camels a day and laugh at off-color jokes… a woman who made friends with men but who never let it get romantic.