Stories like Jane Gardam's "The Tribute" are the very reason I read short stories in the first place. I always think of a collection of stories being like a box of chocolates. The kind without a key to what's inside each one. You never quite know what you will get--whether you'll like it or not once you take that first bite. Sometimes you get an unwelcome surprise and just put it back in the box, but sometimes that bite just melts in your mouth and you sigh in satisfaction.
"The Tribute" came with a sigh of satisfaction. It always takes a few pages to orient myself. Who's telling the story and what's the story about. If there are a lot of characters, who's who and what are their relationships to one another? Sometimes it's obvious quickly and other times I just have to let things go and go with the flow until the plot reveals itself slowly.
"Fanny Soane rang Mabel Ince and Mabel Ince rang old Lady Benson to say that poor Dench was dead."
"'Who?' screamed Nelly Benson."
"'Dench'."
"'Dench?"
"'Yes. Poor darling Denchie'."
"'Thought she'd died years ago. Must have been a hundred'."
"'Nonsense, Nelly'."
"'She was old in the War'."
"'She was wonderful in the War'."
"'Wonderful means old. I've been wonderful for years'."
"'Nelly--' Mabel was hoping to be brief. Calls cost money. She was ringing Kensington from Berkshire. Certainly after six o'clock, but still--."
"'Nelly, I think we ought to do something. Put in a tribute--'."
"'The Times has gone. No sense in a tribute. No tributes now. Nobody getting born. Getting married. Getting tributes. Or dying--more's the pity'."
So Dench is dead and it's her tribute that is getting the ball rolling. While ostensibly the story is about Dench, by the end it is the true characters of the three women--Fanny, Mabel and Nelly which will be revealed (better yet, unmasked). I kind of like stories where the important character is not actually present for the action. You get to learn all about her through the eyes of others.
If you've had the pleasure (it was one of my favorite reads of the year) of reading Jane Gardam's Old Filth, there is a similar feel to "The Tribute". Is she a friend of the three women? It would seem so by the discussion they have over whether to submit a tribute to her to the newspaper. They reminisce about her, sharing stories. It seems at first that she is an equal and good friend, but as the story moves along there is something not very equal about their relationships at all. Dench never married. "Poor Dench, she was never a Diplomatic Wife. Or any wife at all." The three women were diplomats' wives who traveled out to India.
If you've read Elizabeth Jane Howard's Cazalet Chronicles (must get back to rereading those books) there is a governess, Miss Milliment, who features in the story. She lives in genteel poverty, having helped educate the family's children. The family is wealthy, or at least live in relative comfort, but Miss Milliment barely gets by, with her shabby clothes and small meals. I picture Dench leading the same sorr of life, though maybe not quite so abject. The three women talk of their own problems in making ends meet, but certainly that was not always the case.
The three women along with Dench's niece decide to have their own tribute by meeting for lunch in a posh restaurant attached to a nice department store. They can have very dry sherry, and wine with their lunch in elegant surroundings (you know the sort of place--where 'ladies who lunch' go). So a tribute to Dench (filled with the womens' reminiscences), but one that can be enjoyed by all. And there's the catch. As glowingly as they might speak of Dench, how generous have they really been with this 'friend' of theirs? This friend who looked after their children in foreign countries where their husband's had been posted.
If you read closely, follow their stories, tuck the details away for later, the last few paragraphs will send a knowing look to your face. A look of admiration for the skill Jane Gardam has for telling an excellent story that reveals so much in such an unassuming way with a wonderful twist at the end. Just my kind of story.
Next week, "The Pig Boy" (what a title). I already have two story collections in hand or in mind for RIP, which will start in just over a week. My short story Sunday will be devoted to ghost stories for September and October--or at least stories that elicit fear and dread or serious unease (have Joyce Carol Oates in mind for that as she does all of the above so very well), but more about that later. I like the Gardam collection so much I will try and keep it going in the background.
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I'm still working on this week's short story from The New Yorker, "Picasso" by César Aira. I'm hoping to also read the next issue's story by Tessa Hadley, "One Saturday Morning". Hadley is a fairly regular story contributor to The New Yorker, and I find I like her stories very much so was excited to see a new one by her for me to read. (Or I can listen to Hadley read the story aloud--how cool--as that is an option in my digital issue on my ipad). It's been a busy weekend without much free time and even less reading time. Monday I will hopefully be registering to audit a literature class, and Tuesday night I'll be attending it. Posting may be sporadic this week. Hopefully I'll have something bookish to share tomorrow and then will share how my class goes later this week.
Now, go find this Jane Gardam story collection. I'm just a fourth of the way in, but I think this is one I'll be able to heartily recommend to you.