Joy

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.

Page 83 of 299 · 20 per page

• From Fear of Flying (1973)

  Bennett asleep. Face up. Arms at sides. Marie Winkleman is not with him. I sneak into my own bed as the blue light comes down through the window. I am too happy to sleep. But what will I tell Bennett in the morning? I lie in bed thinking of Adrian (who has just driven off and by now must be hopelessly lost again). I adore him. The more he gets lost, the more perfect he appears in my eyes. I wake up at seven and lie in bed two more hours waiting for Bennett to awaken. He groans, farts, and gets up. He starts getting dressed in silence, stomping around the room. I am singing. I am skipping back and forth to the bathroom. “Where did you disappear to last night?” I say blithely. “We looked all over for you.” “Where did I disappear to?” “In that discotheque—you suddenly left. Adrian Goodlove and I looked all over for you….” “You looked all over for me?” He was very bitter and sarcastic. “You and your Liaisons Dangereuses,” he said. He mispronounced it. I was seized with pity for him. “You’ll have to make up a better story than that.” The best defense is a good offense, I thought. The Wife of Bath’s advice to lecherous wives: always accuse your husband first. “Where the hell did you disappear to with Marie Winkleman?” He gave me a black look: “We were right there in the next room watching you practically fuck on the dance floor. Then you took off…” “You were right there?” “Right behind the partition, sitting at a table.” “I didn’t even see a partition.” “You didn’t see anything,” he said. “I thought you’d left. We drove around for hours searching for you. Then we came back. We kept getting lost.” “I’ll bet.” He cleared his throat in the nervous way he had. It was a low death rattle sort of sound. But muted. I hated it worse than anything else about our marriage. It was the theme song of all our worst moments together. We ate breakfast without speaking. I waited, half-cringing, for the blows to fall, but Bennett did not accuse me further. His boiled egg rattled against the cup. His spoon clanked in the coffee. In the deathly silence between us, every sound and every motion seemed exaggerated as if in a movie close-up. His slicing off the top of the skull of his egg could be an Andy Warhol epic. Egg, it would be called. Six hours of a man’s hand amputating the top of an egg’s head. Slow motion. His silence was so strange now, I thought, because there had been times when he’d blasted me about little failures: my failure to make him coffee on time in the morning, my failure to do some errand, my failure to point out a road sign when we were lost in a foreign city. But now: nothing.

• From On Beauty (2005)

  Howard told her. Frowning, Kiki finished her amaretto and poured herself another. ‘No . . . I don’t know that one – how’s it go?’ ‘Do you mean how does it actually go or how did they sing it?’ ‘Wasn’t worse than that time, though. Couldn’t be. Oh, God, I almost died that time.’ ‘Yale,’ said Howard. He had always been the repository of their dates, their names, their places. He supposed he was feminine that way. ‘The dinner for Lloyd.’ ‘Yale. The revenge of white boy soul. Oh, my Lord. I had to leave the room. I was weeping tears. He still barely speaks to me, ’cause of that one night.’ ‘Lloyd’s a pompous arse.’  On Beauty ‘That’s true . . .’ mulled Kiki, twirling the stem of her glass in her hand. ‘But you and I still did not behave ourselves well that evening.’ Outside a dog howled. Howard was aware of Kiki’s knee in its rough green silk resting against his own. He could not tell yet whether she was similarly aware. ‘This was worse,’ he said. Kiki whistled. ‘No,’ she said, ‘no, you are not sitting here and telling me it was as bad as Yale. That’s just not even possible.’ ‘Worse.’ ‘I don’t believe you, I’m sorry.’ Here Howard, who had a tuneful voice, began an effective impersonation. Kiki held her jaw. Her bosom shook. She was giggling into her bosom, but now her head jerked back and out came her big bellow of a laugh. ‘You are making this shit up.’ Howard shook his head in denial. He kept singing. Kiki wagged her finger at him. ‘No, no, no – I need to see the hand signals. It ain’t the same without all that business.’ Howard rose from his seat, still singing, and turned to face the couch. He did nothing physical yet; he had first to envisage the moves and then fit them to his own badly coordinated body. He panicked for a moment, not able to grasp the idea and the muscles in the same thought. Suddenly it came together. His body knew what to do. He began with a spin and a click. ‘Oh, shut your mouth . I do not believe you! No! No they did not !’ Kiki fell back into the cushions, everything on her wobbling. Howard upped the tempo and the volume, growing more confident and fancy in his footwork. ‘Oh, my gosh . What did you do ?’ ‘Had to leave,’ said Howard quickly, and carried on singing. The door of Levi’s basement room opened. ‘Yo! Keep it down , man. Some of us trying to sleep!’ ‘Sorry!’ whispered Howard. He sat down, picked up his glass and brought it to his mouth, still laughing, hoping to hold her, but at the same moment Kiki stood up, agitated, like a woman reminded of a task she hadn’t completed. She was also still laughing, but not  on beauty and being wrong

• From Fear of Flying (1973)

  “They’re already being served cake in the next room,” said another, a two-hundred-pound beauty in a canary-yellow satin pants suit, twinkling with rhinestones. “Don’t push!” said a distinguished- (or perhaps extinguished-) looking older analyst in an outdated tux and plaid cummerbund. He was being crushed between a woman lunging toward the turkey platter and a man lunging toward the antipasto. All up and down the tables, you could see nothing but long arms clawing at food with silver serving forks. Throughout this astonishing performance, the schmaltzy violins played on from their balconied perch above the main ballroom. The pseudo-Gothic arches of the high ceilings were illumined by thousands of pseudocandles, and a few diehards kept revolving on the dance floor in a halting Viennese waltz. Ah travel, adventure, romance! I was glowing with health and well-being, as a woman will glow when she’s been fucked four times in one day by two different men, but my mind was a welter of contradictions. I couldn’t make sense of all the contradictions I felt. At times I was defiant and thought I had every right to snatch whatever pleasure was offered to me for the duration of my short time on earth. Why shouldn’t I be happy and hedonistic? What was wrong with it? I knew that the women who got most out of life (and out of men) were the ones who demanded most, that if you acted as if you were valuable and desirable, men found you valuable and desirable, that if you refused to be a doormat, nobody could tread on you. I knew that servile women got walked on and women who acted like queens got treated that way. But no sooner had my defiant mood passed than I would be seized with desolation and despair, I would feel terrified of losing both men and being left all alone, I would feel sorry for Bennett, curse myself for my disloyalty, despise myself utterly for everything. Then I wanted to run to Bennett and plead forgiveness, throw myself at his feet, offer to bear him twelve children immediately (mainly to cement my bondage), promise to serve him like a good slave in exchange for any bargain as long as it included security. I would become servile, cloying, saccharinely sweet: the whole package of lies that passes in the world as femininity. The fact was that neither one of these attitudes made any sense and I knew it. Neither dominating nor being dominated. Neither bitchiness nor servility. Both were traps. Both led nowhere except toward the loneliness both were designed to avoid. But what could I do? The more I hated myself, the more I hated myself for hating myself. It was hopeless. I kept scanning the faces in the crowd for Adrian. No face but his contented me. Every other face looked gross and ugly to me. Bennett knew what was going on and was maddeningly understanding.

• From The Golden Ass (Metamorphoses) (2)

  rainbow-coloured necks to the yoke of precious gems, and when Venus was entered in, bore up the chariot with great diligence. After her chariot there fol- lowed a number of sparrows chirping about, making sign of joy, and all other kind of birds sang very sweetly with honeyed notes, foreshewing the coming of the great goddess: the clouds gave place, the heavens opened and the upper air received her joyfully, the birds that followed, being the tuneful choir of Venus, nothing feared the eagles, hawks, and other ravenous fowl in the air. Incontinently she went unto the royal palace of the god Jupiter, and with proud and bold petition demanded the service of Mercury the herald in certain of her affairs, where- unto Jupiter consented, nodding with his azure brow ; then with much joy she descended from heaven with Mercury, and gave him an earnest charge to put in execution her words, saying: ‘O my brother, born in Arcadia, thou knowest well that I (who am thy sister) did never enterprise to do anything without thy presence: thou knowest also how long I have sought for a girl that is a-hiding and cannot find her: wherefore there resteth nothing else save that thou do publicly pronounce the reward to such as take her. See thou put in execution my commandment, account the signs by which she may be known, and declare that whatsoever he be that retaineth her wittingly against my will, he shall not defend himself by any mean or excusation.' And when she had spoken this, she delivered unto-him a paper wherein was contained the name of Psyche and the residue of his publication ; which done, she departed away to her lodging. « By and by Mercurius, obeying her commands, proclaimed throughout allthe world that whatsoever : . 259 LUCIUS APULEIUS datae praedicationis munus exsequebatur : * Si quis a fuga retrahere vel occultam demonstrare poterit fugitivam regis filiam, Veneris ancillam, nomine Psychen, conveniat retro metas Murtias Mercurium praedieatorem, accepturus indicivae nomine ab ipsa Venere septem savia suavia et unum blandientis appulsu linguae longe mellitum.’ Ad hunc modum pronuntiante Mercurio tanti praemii cupido certatim omnium mortalium studium arrexerat: quae res nunc vel maxime sustulit Psyches omnem cuncta- tionem. lamque fores et ius dominae proximanti occurrit una de famulitione Veneris, nomine Con- suetudo, statimque, quantum maxime potuit, excla- mat : * Tandem, ancilla nequissima, dominam habere te scire coepisti? An pro cetera morum tuorum temeritate istud quoque nescire te fingis, quantos labores circa tuas inquisitiones sustinuerimus? Sed bene, quod meas potissimum manus incidisti et inter Orci cancros iam ipsos haesisti, datura scilicet actutum tantae contumaciae poenas'; et auda- citer in capillos eius immissa manu trahebat eam nequaquam renitentem. Quam ubi primum induc- tam oblatamque sibi conspexit Venus, laetissimum cachinnum extollit, et qualem solent frequenter irati caputque quatiens et ascalpens aurem dexteram, ‘Tandem’ inquit * Dignata es socrum tuam salu- tare? An potius maritum, qui tuo vulnere pericli- tatur, intervisere venisti? Sed esto Secura; iam

• From The Golden Ass (Metamorphoses) (2)

  Now when we were near come home, all the people of the city (especially her parents and kinsmen, friends and family and servants) came running forth joyfully ; and all they of the town of every age and sex gathered together to see this new sight and strange, a virgin in great triumph sitting upon an ass! Then I (not willing to show less joy than the rest, as far as I might as present occasion served) set and pricked up my long ears, blew out my nostrils, and cried stoutly ; nay rather I made the town to ring again with my shrilling sound. When we were come to her father's house she was received into a chamber honourably, and her parents tended her well; as for rae, Tlepolemus, with a great number of other citizens, did drive me back again with other horses to the cave of the thieves, and I was not very 1 It has been supposed, perhaps without very much reason, that Apuleius intended this to be a parody of our Saviour's Palm Sunday entry into Jerusalem. See note on Book 1x. ch. 14. 319 LUCIUS APULEIUS latronum captivitatis spectator optabam fieri. Quos quidem colligatos adhuc vino magis quam vinculis deprehendimus: totis ergo prolatis erutisque rebus et nobis auro argentoque et ceteris onustis, ipsos partim constrictos, uti fuerant, provolutosque in proximas rupinas praecipites dedere, alios vero suis sibi gladiis obtruncatos reliquere. Tali vindicta laeti et gaudentes civitatem reveni- mus: et illas quidem divitias publicae custodelae commisere, Tlepolemo puellam repetitam lege tradi- l4dere. Exin me suum sospitatorem nuncupatum matrona prolixe curitabat, ipsoque nuptiarum die praesepium meum hordeo passim repleri: iubet faenumque camelo Bactrinae sufficiens apponi Sed quas ego condignas Fotidi diras devotiones imprecer, quae me formavit non canem sed asinum, quippe cum viderem largissimae cenae reliquiis rapinisque canes omnes inescatos atque distentos! Post noctem unicam et rudimenta Veneris recens nupta gratias summas apud suos parentes ac maritum mihi meminisse non destitit, quoad summos illi promitterent honores habituri mihi. Convocatis denique gravioribus amicis consilium datur, quo potissimum pacto digne remu- nerarer. Placuerat uni domi me conclusum et otiosum 320 THE GOLDEN ASS, BOOK VII unwilling, for I much desired to be present to see the taking of them. There we found them all asleep, lying on the ground as we left them, overcome rather by wine than by bonds: and then they first breught out all the gold and silver and other trea- sures of the house and laded us withal: which when they had done, they threw many of the thieves down into the bottom of deep cliffs hard by, and the residue they slew with their own swords,

• From The Annotated Lolita (1991)

  Upon hearing her first morning yawn, I feigned handsome profiled sleep. I just did not know what to do. Would she be shocked at finding me by her side, and not in some spare bed? Would she collect her clothes and lock herself up in the bathroom? Would she demand to be taken at once to Ramsdale—to her mother’s bedside—back to camp? But my Lo was a sportive lassie. I felt her eyes on me, and when she uttered at last that beloved chortling note of hers, I knew her eyes had been laughing. She rolled over to my side, and her warm brown hair came against my collarbone. I gave a mediocre imitation of waking up. We lay quietly. I gently caressed her hair, and we gently kissed. Her kiss, to my delirious embarrassment, had some rather comical refinements of flutter and probe which made me conclude she had been coached at an early age by a little Lesbian. No Charlie boy could have taught her that. As if to see whether I had my fill and learned the lesson, she drew away and surveyed me. Her cheekbones were flushed, her full underlip glistened, my dissolution was near. All at once, with a burst of rough glee (the sign of the nymphet!), she put her mouth to my ear—but for quite a while my mind could not separate into words the hot thunder of her whisper, and she laughed, and brushed the hair off her face, and tried again, and gradually the odd sense of living in a brand new, mad new dream world, where everything was permissible, came over me as I realized what she was suggesting. I answered I did not know what game she and Charlie had played. “You mean you have never—?”—her features twisted into a stare of disgusted incredulity. “You have never—” she started again. I took time out by nuzzling her a little. “Lay off, will you,” she said with a twangy whine, hastily removing her brown shoulder from my lips. (It was very curious the way she considered—and kept doing so for a long time—all caresses except kisses on the mouth or the stark act of love either “romantic slosh” or “abnormal”.) “You mean,” she persisted, now kneeling above me, “you never did it when you were a kid?” “Never,” I answered quite truthfully. “Okay,” said Lolita, “here is where we start.”

• From The Golden Ass (Metamorphoses) (2)

  When the theeves were all asleepe by their great and immoderate drinking, the young man Lepolemus took the Maiden and set her upon my backe, and went homeward. When we were come home, all the people of the Citie, especially her Parents, friends, and family, came running forth joyfully, and the children and Maidens of the towne gathered together to see this virgin in great triumph sitting upon an Asse. Then I (willing to shew as much joy as I might, as present occasion served) I set and pricked up my long eares, ratled my nosethrils, and cryed stoutly, nay rather I made the towne to ring againe with my shrilling sound: when wee were come to her fathers house, shee was received in a chamber honourably: as for me, Lepolemus (accompanied with a great number of Citizens) did presently after drive me backe againe with other horses to the cave of the theeves, where wee found them all asleepe lying on the ground as wee left them; then they first brought out all the gold, and silver, and other treasure of the house, and laded us withall, which when they had done, they threw many of the theeves downe into the bottome of deepe ditches, and the residue they slew with their swords: after this wee returned home glad and merry of so great vengeance upon them, and the riches which wee carried was commited to the publike treasurie. This done, the Maid was married to Lepolemus, according to the law, whom by so much travell he had valiantly recovered: then my good Mistresse looked about for me, and asking for me commanded the very same day of her marriage, that my manger should be filled with barly, and that I should have hay and oats aboundantly, and she would call me her little Camell. But how greatly did I curse Fotis, in that shee transformed me into an Asse, and not into a dogge, because I saw the dogges had filled their paunches with the reliks and bones of so worthy a supper. The next day this new wedded woman (my Mistresse) did greatly commend me before her Parents and husband, for the kindnesse which I had shewed unto her, and never leaved off untill such time as they promised to reward me with great honours.

• From The Divine Comedy (1950)

  riseth a hill, lifted to no great height, whence erst came down a firebrand that made a dire assault upon the country.3 Out of one root spring I with it; Cunizza was I called, and here I glow because the light of this star overcame me. But joyously I grant myself indulgence for the occasion of my lot, nor doth it grieve me, which would seem, mayhap, hard saying to your common herd.4 Of this shining and dear gem of our heaven, which most doth neighbour me, great fame remaineth, and ere it shall perish this centenary year shall be five times repeated. See if a man should make himself excel, so that the first life leave another after! And of this thinketh not the present crowd that Tagliamento and Adige enclose; the which, though smitten, yet repenteth not. But soon shall come to pass that Padua at the pool shall change the water that doth bathe Vicenza, because the folk are stubborn against duty.5 And where Sile meets Cagnano, one holdeth sway and goeth with uplifted head to catch whom even now the net is being woven.6 A wail shall yet arise from Feltro for the trespass of its impious pastor,7 which shall be so foul that for the like none ever entered Malta.8 Too ample were the charger which should receive Ferrara’s blood, and weary who should weigh it ounce by ounce, which this obliging priest shall give to prove himself a partisan; and such-like gifts shall suit the country’s way of life. Aloft are mirrors,—ye name them Thrones,9—whence God in judgment shineth upon us so that these words approve themselves to us.” Here she was silent, and to me her semblance was of one who turneth him to other heeding, judging as by the wheel whereto she gave herself, like as she was before.10 The other joy, noted already to me as a thing illustrious, shone in my sight like a fine ruby that the sun should strike. By joy up there brightness is won, just as a smile on earth; but down below darkeneth the shade externally as the mind saddeneth. “God seeth all, and into him thy seeing sinketh,” said I, “blessed spirit, so that no wish may steal itself from thee. Then wherefore doth thy voice, which gladdeneth. Heaven ceaselessly,—together with the singing of those Flames devout, which make themselves a cowl with the six wings,—11 not satisfy my longings? Not till now had I awaited thy demand, were I in thee even as thou art in me.” “The greatest valley in which water stretcheth,” then began his words, “forth from that sea which garlandeth the earth, betwixt opposing shores, against the sun, goeth so far that it meridian maketh of what was first horizon.12 Of this valley was I a shoresman, midway ’twixt the Ebro and the Macra, which, with short course, parteth the Genoese and Tuscan.

• From The Golden Ass (Metamorphoses) (2)

  sonum resultarent. lamque nomine proprio sororem miseram ciebant, quoad sono penetrabili vocis ulula- bilis per prona delapso amens et trepida Psyche pro- currit e domo et, * Quid ' inquit * Vos miseris lamen- tationibus nequicquam effligitis? Quam lugetis ad- sum. Lugubres voces desinite, et diutinis lacrimis madentes genas siccate tandem, quippe cum iam pos- sitis quam plangebatis amplecti. Tunc vocatum Zephyrum praecepti maritalis admonet: nec mora, cum ille parens imperio statim clementissimis flatibus innoxia vectura deportat illas. Iam mutuis amplexi- bus et festinantibus saviis sese perfruuntur, et illae sedatae lacrimae postliminio redeunt prolectante gaudio, ‘Sed et tectum’ inquit ‘Et Larem nostrum laetae succedite, et afflictas animas cum Psyche vestra recreate. Sic allocuta summas opes domus aureae vocumque servientium populosam familiam demon- strat auribus earum, lavacroque pulcherrimo et in- humanae mensae lautitiis eas opipare reficit, ut illarum prorsus caelestium divitiarum copiis affluen- tibus satiatae iam praecordiis penitus nutrirent in- vidiam. Denique altera earum satis scrupulose curioseque percontari non desinit, quis illarum cae- lestium rerum dominus, quisve vel qualis ipsius sit maritus: nec tamen Psyche coniugale illud praecep- tum ullo pacto temerat vel pectoris arcanis exigit, sed e re nata confingit esse iuvenem quendam et speciosum, commodum lanoso barbitio genas inum- brantem, plerumque rurestribus ac montanis venati- 210 THE GOLDEN ASS, BOOK V echoes answered again their frequent howlings: and when they called their sister by her name, so that their lamentable cries came down the mountain unto her ears, she came forth, very anxious and now almost out of her mind, and said: ‘ Behold, here is she for whom you weep; I pray you torment yourself no more, and dry those tears with which you have so long wetted your cheeks, for now may you embrace her for whom you mourned.’

• From On Beauty (2005)

  ‘Hmm?’ said Howard, turning round and finding both kinds of news were approaching from across the green and waving at him: Erskine Jegede and Jack French, the Dean of the Humanities Faculty. Jack French on his long playboy legs in their New England slacks. How old was this man? The question had always troubled Howard. Jack French could be fifty-two. He could just as easily be seventy-nine. You couldn’t ask him and if you didn’t ask him you’d never know. It was a movie-idol face Jack had, cut-glass architecture, angled like a Wyndham Lewis portrait. His sentimental eyebrows made the shape of two separated sides of a steeple, always gently perplexed. He had skin like the kind of dark, aged leather you find on those fellows they dig out, after  years, from a peat bog. A thin yet complete covering of grey silk hair hid his skull from Howard’s imputations of extreme old age and was cut no differently than it would have been when the man was twenty-two, balanced on the lip of a white boat looking out at Nantucket through one sun-shading hand, wondering if that was Dolly stood square on the pier with two highballs in her hand. Compare and contrast with Erskine: his shining, hairless pate, and those story-book freckles that induced in Howard an unreasonable feeling of joy. Erskine was dressed this evening in a three-piece suit of the yellowest of yellows, the curves of his bumptious body naturally resisting all three pieces. On his small feet he wore a pair of pointed Cuban-heeled shoes. The effect was of a bull doing his initial  On Beauty two-step dance towards you. Still ten yards away, Howard had a chance to switch his position with his wife – quickly and unobserved – so that Erskine would naturally veer towards Howard and French would go the other way. He took this opportunity. Unfortunately French was not given to duologic conversation – he addressed the group, always. No – he addressed the gaps between the group. ‘Belseys en masse ,’ said Jack French very slowly, and each Belsey tried to ascertain which Belsey he might be looking at directly. ‘Missing . . . one , I believe. Belseys minus one.’ ‘That’s Levi, our youngest – we lost him. He lost us. To be honest, he’s trying to lose us,’ said Kiki coarsely and laughed, and Jerome laughed and Zora laughed and so did Howard and Erskine and after all of them, very slowly, with infinite slowness, Jack French began to laugh. ‘My children,’ began Jack. ‘Yes?’ said Howard. ‘Spend most of their time,’ said Jack. ‘Yes, yes,’ said Howard, encouragingly. ‘ Contriving ,’ said Jack. ‘Ha, ha,’ said Howard. ‘ Yes .’ ‘To lose me at public events,’ said Jack finally. ‘Right,’ said Howard, exhausted already. ‘Right. Always the way.’ ‘We are anathema to our own children,’ said Erskine merrily, with his scale-jumping accent, from high to low and back again.

• From Fear of Flying (1973)

  I didn’t care. “Slimy,” he said. “Your slime,” I said. “Our slime,” he corrected me. And then he said suddenly: “I want to give you an experience like the one Martine gave me. I want to teach you not to be afraid of what’s inside you.” He sank his teeth into my thigh. They left marks. When I got back to the hotel at five-thirty Bennett was waiting. He didn’t ask me where I’d been, but he put his arms around me and started undressing me. He made love to me, to Adrian’s slime, to our triangle in all senses of the word. He had never been as passionate and tender, and I had rarely been so excited. That he was a much better lover than Adrian was clear. It was also clear that Adrian had made a difference in our lovemaking, had made us appreciate each other in a new way. We touched each other completely. Suddenly I was as valuable to Bennett as if he had fallen in love with me for the very first time. We took a bath together and splashed water at each other. We soaped each other’s backs. I was a little appalled at my own promiscuity, that I could go from one man to another and feel so glowing and intoxicated. I knew I would have to pay for it later with the guilt and misery which I alone know how to give myself in such good measure. But right now I was happy. I felt properly appreciated for the first time. Do two men perhaps add up to one whole person? — One of the most memorable occasions of the Congress was the reception at the Rathaus of Vienna. Memorable because it provided the unparalleled opportunity to watch 2,000 or more analysts gorging themselves as if they had been starving in Biafra for a year. Memorable because it provided the unparalleled opportunity to watch several sedate old analysts doing the frug—or what they thought was the frug. Memorable because I waltzed through the whole experience in a red paisley gown covered with sequins and kept leaving a trail of them on the ground as I went from one ballroom to the other, now dancing with Bennett and now with Adrian and still not being able to make up my mind. I left a trail of evidence everywhere I went.

• From On Beauty (2005)

  ‘Street, street,’ bellowed Zora. ‘It’s like, ‘‘being street’’, knowing the street – in Levi’s sad little world if you’re a Negro you have some kind of mysterious holy communion with sidewalks and corners.’ ‘Aw, man, shut up . You don’t know what the street looks like. You ain’t never been there.’ ‘What’s this?’ said Zora, pointing to the ground. ‘Marshmallow?’ ‘ Please . This ain’t America. You think this is America? This is toy-town . I was born in this country – trust me. You go into Roxbury, you go into the Bronx, you see America. That’s street .’ ‘Levi, you don’t live in Roxbury,’ explained Zora slowly. ‘You live in Wellington. You go to Arundel . You’ve got your name ironed into your underwear.’ ‘I wonder if I’m street . . .’ mused Howard. ‘I’m still healthy, got hair, testicles, eyes, etcetera. Got great testicles. It’s true I’m above subnormal intelligence – but then again I am full of verve and spunk.’ ‘ No .’ ‘Dad,’ said Zora, ‘please don’t say spunk. Ever.’ ‘Can’t I be street?’ ‘ No . Why you always got to make everything be a joke?’ ‘I just want to be street.’ ‘ Mom . Tell him to stop, man.’ ‘I can be a brother. Check it out,’ said Howard, and proceeded to make a series of excruciating hand gestures and poses. Kiki squealed and covered her eyes. ‘Mom – I’m going home, I swear to God if he does that for one more second, I swear to God . . .’ Levi was trying desperately to get his hoodie to cover the side of  On Beauty his vision in which Howard was persisting. It was surely only seconds before Howard recited the only piece of rap he could ever remember, a single line he’d mysteriously retained from the mass of lyrics he heard Levi mutter day after day. ‘ I got the slickest, quickest dick – ’ began Howard. Screams of consternation rose up from the rest of his family. ‘ A penis with the IQ of a genius! ’ ‘Dat’s it – I’m gone .’ Levi coolly jogged ahead of them all and tucked himself into the swarm going through the gates into the park. They all laughed, even Jerome, and it did Kiki good to see him laugh. Howard had always been funny. Even when they first met, she had thought of him, covetously, as the kind of father who would be able to make his children laugh. Now she tweaked his elbow affectionately. ‘Something I said?’ asked Howard, satisfied, and released his arms from their folded pose. ‘Well done, baby. Has he got his cell on him?’ asked Kiki. ‘He’s got mine,’ said Jerome. ‘He stole it from my room this morning.’

• From The Divine Comedy (1950)

  “The light was as bright as the sun, so that if it had been in the Crab during the month of midwinter (parts of December and January) where the sun is in the opposite sign of Capricorn, one or the other always being above the horizon, there would be no night.”15. Not performing with any self-conscious desire for admiration, but simply throwing herself into the festivities in honour of the bride.16. The pelican, supposed to feed her young with her own blood, is a frequent symbol of Christ. Further, see John xiii. 23; xix. 25-27.17. Cf. John xxi, 22, 23.18. Christ and the Virgin (cf. Canto xxiii) alone ascended to heaven With the two robes (i.e., in the body as well as the spirit). Note that according to the conception prevalent in the Middle Ages, Enoch and Elijah, who were also taken up bodily from the earth, were not in heaven, but in the Earthly Paradise. Perhaps the present passage may be taken as indirect evidence that Dante too accepted the traditionC A N T O X X V IThe Apostle John reassures Dante as to his lost sight, which Beatrice will restore to him as Ananias restored his to Paul; and invites him to discourse meanwhile of Love; and first to tell him what is the supreme object on which his soul’s affection is fixed. Dante, resignedly awaiting Beatrice’s succour, declares that he is still burning in that same flame which she brought into his heart, and that God is the beginning and end of that and of all his other loves. Moved by the Apostle to declare more at large the justification of his love Dante answers that, since good as good must be loved, to know God is of necessity to love him, and goes on to deslares how Aristotle and the Scriptures have made this truth level to his capacity. When questioned as to other reasons for loving God Dante perceives that he is expected to supplement his account of the supreme love of God, as good in himself, by a statement of the accessory gratitude to God as good to us, and enumerates the creation of the world, his own creation, the redemption and the hope of heaven. He adds that all creatures share his love in proportion as they share the good which is supreme in the Creator. A hymn of praise is raised, and Dante’s sight is restored to him; whereon he is bewildered by Beatrice’s greater beauty and then by the presence of a fourth flame, weherin he learns the soul of Adam to abide.

• From Fear of Flying (1973)

  No doubt. But I’d give my life just to go on kissing him like this and how are you going to analyze that?) Meanwhile, he’s got my ass and is cupping it with both hands. He’s put my book on the fender of a Volkswagen and he’s grabbed my ass instead. Isn’t that why I write? To be loved? I don’t know anymore. I don’t even know my own name. “I’ve never met an ass to rival yours,” he says. And that remark makes me feel better than if I’d just won the National Book Award. The National Ass Award—that’s what I want. The Transatlantic Ass Award of 1971. “I feel like Mrs. America at the Congress of Dreams,” I say. “You are Mrs. America at the Congress of Dreams,” he says, “and I want to love you as hard as I possibly can and then leave you.” Forewarned is forearmed, supposedly. But who was listening? All I could hear was the pounding of my own heart. — The rest of the evening was a dream of reflections and champagne glasses and drunken psychiatric jargon. We wended our way back through the hallway of mirrors. We were so excited that we scarcely bothered to make any plans about when we’d meet again. Bennett was smiling with the redheaded candidate from Argentina on his arm. I had another champagne and made the rounds with Adrian. He was introducing me to all the London analysts and babbling about my unwritten article. Would they consent to be interviewed? Could he interest them in my journalistic effort? The whole time he had his arm around my waist and sometimes his hand on my ass. We were nothing if not indiscreet. Everybody saw. His analyst. My ex-analysts. His son’s analyst. His daughter’s analyst. My husband’s ex-analyst. My husband. “Is this Mrs. Goodlove?” one of the older London analysts asked. “No,” Adrian said, “but I wish it were. If I’m very, very lucky, it may be.” I was floating. My head was full of champagne and talk of marriage. My head was full of leaving dull old New York for glamorous trendy London. I was out of my mind. “She just ran off with some Englishman,” I could hear my friends in New York saying, not without envy. They were all sandbagged down with children and babysitters, with graduate courses and teaching jobs and analysts and patients. And here I was flying through the purple skies of Vienna on my borrowed broomstick. I was the one they counted on to write out their fantasies.

• From On Beauty (2005)

  ‘ Best movies, top movies, three for ten dollars! ’ called Levi into the street. He dug into his pocket and found two individually wrapped Junior Mints. He offered one to Choo, who declined it sniffily. Levi unwrapped his own mint and popped it into his mouth. He loved Junior Mints. Minty and chocolatey. Just everything you want from a candy, basically. The last of the peppermint slipped down his throat. He tried really hard not to say anything at all. And then he said: ‘So you got a lot of friends here?’  On Beauty Choo sighed. ‘No.’ ‘No one in the city?’ ‘No.’ ‘You don’t know anyone ?’ ‘I know two, three people. They work across the river. At Wellington. In the college.’ ‘Oh, yeah?’ said Levi. ‘Which department?’ Choo stopped organizing the money in his fanny pack and looked at Levi curiously. ‘They’re cleaners,’ he said. ‘I don’t know which department they clean.’ OK, OK, you win, bro, thought Levi, and crouched down to the DVDs to pointlessly rearrange a row of them. He was done with this guy. But now it was Choo who seemed freshly interested. ‘And you – ’ said Choo, pursuing him. ‘You live in Roxbury, Felix tells me.’ Levi looked up at Choo. He was smiling, at last. ‘Yeah, man, that’s right.’ Choo looked down at him like the tallest man who had ever lived. ‘Yes. That’s what I heard, that you live in Roxbury. And you rap with them too.’ ‘Not really. I just went along. It’s good, though – it’s got that political vibe. Real angry. I’m learning more about the . . . like, the political context, that’s what I’m into right now,’ said Levi, referring to a book on Haiti he had borrowed (though it was as yet unread) from Arundel School’s -year-old library. It was the first time Levi had ever entered that cloistered, dark little space without the propulsion of a school project or imminent exam. ‘But they say they never see you there, in Roxbury. The others. They say they never see you.’ ‘Yeah, well. I pretty much keep myself to myself.’ ‘I see. Well, maybe we shall see each other there, Levi,’ said Choo, and his smile grew wider, ‘down in the hood.’  the anatomy lesson 

• From The Divine Comedy (1950)

  together with the aforesaid living consciousness, have drawn me from the sea of the perverted and placed me on the shore of the right love. The leaves wherewith all the garden of the eternal Gardener is leafed, I love in measure of the good that hath been proffered to them from him.” Soon as I held my peace a sweetest song rang through the Heaven, and my Lady with the rest cried: “Holy, Holy, Holy!” And as at a keen light one wakeneth from slumber by reason of the vessel spirit which runneth to meet the glow that pierceth tunic after tunic,8 and he thus awakened confoundeth what he seeth, so undiscerning his sudden vigil until reflection cometh to its succour; so from mine eyes did Beatrice dissipate every scale with the ray of hers that might cast their glow more than a thousand miles; whence better than before I saw thereafter, and as one stupefied, made question as to a fourth light which I perceived with us. And my Lady: “Within those rays holdeth amorous converse with its maker the first soul that the first Power s’er created.” As the spray which bendeth down its head as the wind passeth over, and doth then uplift itself by its own power which doth raise it up, did I, whilst she was speaking, all bemazed; and then was reassured by a desire to speak, wherewith I was a-burning; and I began: “O fruit, who wast alone produced mature, O ancient father who hast both daughter and daughter-in-law in every bride; devoutly as I may do I implore thee that thou speak to me; thou seest my will, and to hear thee the sooner I not utter it.” Sometimes an animal swayeth beneath a covering so that its impulse must needs be apparent, since what envelopeth it followeth its movements; and in like manner that first soul made appear through its covering with what elation it advanced to do me pleasure. And from it breathed: “Though not set forth to me by thee, I better do discern thy will than thou the thing which is most certain to thee, because I see it in the veracious Mirror whicn doth make himself reflector of all other things, and nought doth make itself reflector unto him.9 Thou wouldst know how long the time since God placed me in the uplifted garden wherein she there prepared thee for so long a stair,10 and how long the delight endured unto my eyes, and the true cause of the great indignation, and the idiom which I used and which myself composed. Now know, my son, that not the tasting of the tree was in itself the cause of so great exile, but only the transgressing of the mark.11 From that place12 whence thy Lady dispatched Virgil, four thousand three hundred and two revolutions of the sun went out my longing for this gathering;

• From Fear of Flying (1973)

  He transformed his voice and his face to suit his moods. Sometimes he was Edward G. Robinson as Al Capone, sometimes Basil Rathbone as Sherlock Holmes, sometimes Grimfalcon the Elf (a character we invented together), sometimes Shakewoof (another imaginary friend: part Shakespeare, part snuggly sheepdog—a sort of poetry-writing hound)…. Our long days and nights together were a series of routines, impersonations, playlets—with Brian doing most of the playing. I was such a good audience! We could walk and walk and walk and walk—from Columbia to the Village, across the Brooklyn Bridge (reciting Hart Crane, of course) and then all the way back to Manhattan—and never be bored. We never sat at a restaurant table in silence like grim young married couples do. We were always talking and laughing. Until we got married that is. Marriage ruined everything. Four years of being lovers and best friends and Shakespearean scholars together—and we blew it by getting married. I never wanted to. Marriage always seemed to be something I’d have plenty of time for in the future. The distant future. But Brian wanted to own my soul. He was afraid I’d fly away. So he gave me an ultimatum. Marry me or I’ll leave you. And I was scared of losing him, and I wanted to get away from home, and I was graduating from college and didn’t know what the hell else to do—so I married him.

• From The Divine Comedy (1950)

  Her ceasing and her transmuted semblance enjoined silence on my eager wit, which already had new questionings before it. And even as an arrow which smiteth the targe ere the cord be still, so fled we to the second realm. There I beheld my Lady so glad, when to the light of this heaven she committed her, that the planet’s self became the brighter for it. And if the star was changed and laughed, what then did I, who of my very nature am subjected unto change through every guise! As in a fish-pool still and clear, the fishes draw to aught that so droppeth from without as to make them deem it somewhat they may feed on, so did I see more than a thousand splendours draw towards us, and in each one was heard: Lo! one who shall increase our loves.9 And as each one came up to us, the shade appeared full filled with joy, by the bright glow that issued forth of it. Think, reader, if what I now begin proceeded not, how thou would’st feel an anguished dearth of knowing more, and by thyself thou shalt perceive how it was in my longing to hear from these concerning their estate, soon as they were revealed unto my eyes. “O happy-born,10 to whom grace concedeth to look upon the Thrones of the eternal triumph ere thou abandonest thy time of warfare,11 by the light that rangeth through all heaven are we enkindled; and therefore if thou desire to draw light from us, sate thee at thine own will.” Thus by one of those devout spirits was said to me, and by Beatrice: “Speak, speak securely, and believe as thou would’st deities.” “Verily, I see how thou dost nestle in thine own light, and that thou dost draw it through thine eyes, because they sparkle as thou smilest;12 But I know nor who thou art, nor why, O worthy soul, thou art graded in this sphere, which veileth it to mortals in another’s rays.”13 This I said, turned towards the light which first had spoken to me; whereat it glowed far brighter yet than what it was before. Like as the sun which hideth him by excess of light when the heat hath gnawed away the tempering of the thick vapours, so by access of joy the sacred figure hid him in his own rays, and thus enclosed, answered me in such fashion as chanteth the following chant.

• From On Beauty (2005)

  Like a patchwork quilt knitting together a zillion computer-generated colours, the DVD covers were lined up in rows, each title more scandalously recent than the last, less likely to be legal. One of the guys swiftly hung the bags off the railings, and these new announcements of colour brought a rush of delight to Levi, so strong because so unexpected, so queerly timed. The men sang and  On Beauty bantered among themselves, as if prospective customers didn’t even matter. Their display was so magnificent no further hustling was required. They struck Levi as splendid beings, from quite another planet than the one he had been in only five minutes ago – spring-footed, athletic, carelessly loud, coal-black, laughing, immune to the frowns of Bostonian ladies passing with their stupid little dogs. Brothers. An unanchored sentence of Howard’s from his morning lecture – now floating free of the tedious original context – meandered into Levi’s consciousness. Situationists transform the urban landscape . ‘Hey, you want hip-hop? Hip-hop? We got your hip-hop here,’ said one of the guys, like an actor breaking the suspended disbelief of the fourth wall. He reached out his long fingers to Levi, and Levi walked towards him at once.  ‘Mom – what are you doing ?’ Is it unusual, then, to be sat thus on a raised step, half in the kitchen and half in the garden, your feet numb on the chill flagstones, waiting for winter? Kiki had been quite content for the best part of an hour, just like this, watching the pitchy wind bully the last leaves to the ground – now here was her daughter, incredulous. The older we get the more our kids seem to want us to walk in a very straight line with our arms pinned to our sides, our faces cast with the neutral expression of mannequins, not looking to the left, not looking to the right, and not – please not – waiting for winter. They must find it comforting. ‘Mom – hello ? It’s blowing a gale out there.’ ‘Oh – morning, baby. No, I’m not cold.’ ‘ I’m cold. Can you close the door? What are you doing?’ ‘I don’t know, really. Looking.’ ‘At?’ ‘Just looking.’  the anatomy lesson Zora gawped at her mother crudely and then, just as abruptly, lost interest. She set about opening cabinets. ‘O kay . . . Have you had breakfast?’ ‘No, honey, I ate . . .’ Kiki put both hands on her knees to signify a decision; she wanted Zora to feel her mother was not an eccentric. That she had been sitting for a reason and now would rise for a reason. She said, ‘That garden could do with a little TLC. The grass is full of dead leaves. Nobody picked up any of the apples, they’re just rotting there.’ But Zora could find nothing interesting in this. ‘Well,’ she replied, sighing, ‘I’m going to make toast and scrambled.

• From On Beauty (2005)

  Finally they reached the house. Zora had never been so happy to see a set of porch steps. Steps were easy, and with joy she placed the ball of her foot on each wide wooden slat. A girl they did not know answered the door. At once they saw that it was a better party than either had been expecting. Some of the younger grads and even a few faculty members were there. People were already boisterously drunk. Pretty much everybody Zora considered vital for her social success this coming year was present. She had the guilty thought that she would do better at this party without Jerome hanging at her heels in his slacks with the T-shirt tucked in too tightly. ‘Victoria’s here,’ he said as they left their coats in the pile. Zora looked down the hall and spotted her, simultaneously overdressed and half naked. ‘Oh, whatever ,’ said Zora, but then a thought came to her. ‘But Jay . . . If, I mean, if you want to go . . . I’d understand, I could get a taxi back.’ ‘No, it’s fine. Of course it’s fine.’ Jerome went over to a punch bowl and scooped them a drink each. ‘To lost love,’ he said sadly, taking a sip. ‘One glass. Did you see Jamie Anderson? He’s dancing .’ ‘I like Jamie Anderson.’ It was strange being at a party with your sibling, standing in a corner, holding your plastic tumblers with both hands. There’s no small talk between siblings. They bopped their heads ineptly and stood slightly turned out from each other, trying to look not alone and yet not with each other. ‘There’s Dad’s Veronica,’ said Jerome, as she passed by in an unflattering s flapper dress complete with headband. ‘And that’s your rapper friend, isn’t it? I saw him in the paper.’  On Beauty ‘Carl!’ called Zora, too loudly. He was fiddling with the stereo, and now turned and came over. Zora remembered to put both hands behind her back and pull down her shoulders. Her chest looked better that way. But he did not look in that direction. He patted her chummily on the arm as usual and shook Jerome’s hand vigorously. ‘Good to see you again, man!’ he said and shot out that movie star smile. Jerome, now recalling the young man he had met that night in the park, registered the pleasant change: this open, friendly demeanour, this almost Wellingtonian confidence. In answer to Jerome’s polite question as to what Carl had been up to recently, Carl prattled on about his library, neither defensively nor particularly boastfully, but with an easy egotism that did not for a moment consider asking Jerome a similar question. He spoke of the Hip-hop Archive and the need for more Gospel, the growing African section, the problem of getting money out of Erskine.