Three good short stories this past weekend, starting with two by Sylvia Townsend Warner first. Both in a way are about gift giving, though with STW there is always more to the story than meets the eye. So, "Tebic" first. Tebic. Tebic? What is a tebic? She dangles it in front of the reader's eye and then leaves us hanging as to its particulars, but then maybe its purpose isn't exactly the point of the story.
Humphrey takes great care in his gift giving, and wife choosing since he is discerning about both. Lydia, his wife, is engagingly eclectic so he can be sure of her tastes. In this case, Tebic was bought ages ago and set aside for later. So much so that when she unwrapped it he had forgotten both its use and its benefits (or so he says, maybe he never really knew) and thought to smuggle it out of sight and into the garbage. But Lydia got to it first and saved it.
" . . . I'm sure that when we've found out what its meant to do, it will be an answer to a prayer [Lydia says]. Perhaps it's for withering away that immovable tape people will do up parcels with--in which case, what a godsend! Or for putting in damp cupboards, or mending china, or adding vitamins to soup."
Now that such a fuss is being made of it, he wants to hear no more about it (being rather sensitive to his gift choices and easily wounded by the recipient's reactions, or lack thereof). He'd been burned before you see. Just then a friend of Lydia arrives, shrieks in excitement over Tebic, of which she also has one. Humphrey knows Lydia will never tell a fib and so fully expects to hear her friend explain Tebic's purpose, when Lydia replies "I can't imagine myself without it." A shout of laughter and a realization that maybe he doesn't know his wife so well after all. And Tebic? I'm still not sure its purposes. Lydia ruined it for all of us by her little fib (how often do we agree or pretend we know when really we don't . . .).
"A Flying Start" is a treat of a story and one of my favorites so far. A young couple visit a favorite an antiques shop, the husband with exquisite taste, but the wife . . . well, perhaps a little more flawed in her choices. The trinket she picks up in admiration is shot down after "a brief but careful scrutiny" and a "I don't like it" by her husband. With tranquility of countenance, cool, calm and collected and not a word of protest she returns it to its display.
I won't tell you how it ends, but I'll just throw out the word "larceny" and you can imagine the rest (though you might be surprised by the ending). Mr. Edom, who appears in several stories in this collection, undertaking the guise of gallery owner is a delight and a careful observer of clientele and their foibles. And apparently he will let slip a little infraction of the rules if he likes you. In thinking about the title and its meaning I had to contemplate for a while, but a flying start must surely mean the wife's flying start of, um, collecting (or maybe thievery if she's not careful). STW is quite whimsical and sly in her storytelling. I wonder what she must have been like in real life (must read that biography of her I bought).
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I've continued on in my Alice Hoffman collection, The Red Garden, (actually it is a series of interlinked stories) with "Eight Nights of Love, 1792". I can see that the characters, or rather descendants of characters are going to pop up in the stories along down the line. The last 'dated' story is set in 1986 so I have a ways to go. When I first started reading this weekend's story, it had a whiff of strong religious beliefs about it and I almost thought, not today--I'm not sure I am in the mood for this, but I kept reading and found myself quite taken with the story in the end. As a matter of fact I wanted to keep going yesterday with the next story, but my bookbag was already full and I couldn't allow even one more stowaway.
Two events set the tone of the story. The story's focus is a Tree of Life planted in the center of Blackwell. Story has it that when the tree blooms, if you are standing beneath it you can ask for mercy for your sins. People would secretly cut bits from the tree to plant in their own yards. The story is about the two young men, brothers, who plant the tree--no one can remember who the original planter even was really. But Minette could tell you. The second event--she is on her way to hang herself after the deaths of her husband and child to illness when she encounters the brothers. One older and the other just a boy. Each helps the other in ways that show mercy and hope. Of course the townspeople are wary of the two men. How odd for them to plant trees and to stay with a widow (even if only in her yard) is unseemly. They are ready to run the pair out of town. The elder brother, shoeless and will long hair (and so thin because he barely eats and the faintness brought on by hunger makes him feel even closer to God) promises their work is nearly done and the people of the town will thank them later, long after they have moved on.
When the tree blooms out of season, of course it is nearly miraculous. Indeed the men have a lasting effect as they plant trees all the way to the opposite coast. It was fitting to read a story about planting trees across America on a day when I visited a place important to tree planting.
Next weekend: "English Mosaic", "The Candles" and in the Hoffman: "The Year There was No Summer."