Michael Beeson's Research

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“Leave me alone!” she shouted, her words as sharp as tacks. “You’ve no right to boss me about!” “Join you?” Ramsey retorted, with a pompous gesture that seemed to dismiss Adam’s words. “Only in the sense that we sit at the same table. Rather I ensnare you.” As he spoke the remaining men of his escort, the two outriders, still wearing their cloaks, entered the room and sat, backs to Woolford and Duncan, as if to corner the committeemen. In spite of the greenhouses, Westminster only really liked natural flowers, and he continued to do so. What gave him greatest pleasure was to bring me the first snowdrop, picked from the lawn, in a box. Delilah loved him and cared for him in ways that I might never be able to. He could read at least a dozen words and he could count. He saidplease andthank you without reminder, and he was healthy and unafraid. “Bolt to where?” The girl cocked her head at him and then nodded.“Letters would be good.” When Mama Harpa was at Laugarnes School, we kids liked to run around in the huge Dock Wood, next to the domed building where a hundred tons of concrete were playing a game of sculptures. The scrub in Dock Wood was as high as the shoulders of most kids my age, but came up to my nose because I’ve always been so small. Everyone knew that mysterious beings known as the WILD ONES lived there. They were very small and dark, with curly hair. They were actually wild children but hardly human. It was difficult to explain their existence, although everyone knew that they were orphans, among various other things. They lived mostly on dock, but if they grew hungry in winter they might kill rats for food. They were distinguished from other children by the fact that they had no belly button. That’s because they hadn’t been born in the usual way. These savage Wild Ones were rarely seen, since few dared to venture deep into the woods. Sometimes, we kids tried to stay hidden for hours, without a sound, in order to lure them out into the light of day. “Where you girls off to?” Jim asked once he got close enough. The girls, still on the other side of the fence, never stopped smiling. I didn’t find Hickey up on the pier but I did find my shoes. They were neatly set out at the edge. Abandoned shoes on the end of a pier are never a good omen. I stooped to reach for them and a cannon ball collided with the inside of my skull. Did you have an interesting phone conversation earlier? are not of human kin “Yeah. She had one of the garden rooms. Nice kid. Fucked-up, but she was nice. Had manners, you know?” The passage inThe Pillow Book titled“When the Empress Moved” tells of all the amusing and comic things that happen when the empress Teishi and her court (including Shonagon) are moved out of the main palace to another residence, one where the gate is not wide enough for the carriage to pass, where the master of the house doesn’t know the words for things, and where the court ladies are not given their proper privacy. In this passage, Shonagon does not mention that the empress Teishi is pregnant and ill, that another woman from another family was also recently named empress, that the move to a house far beneath her stationwas a political one, part of an attempt to shift power to a different family, and she also does not mention that the empress Teishi will soon die in childbirth, an event that has most likely already happened when the passage was written but which isn’t encompassed in the passage. Instead the writing is crowded over with laughter and “charm,” and scholars tell us that the passage has a special density of what in Japanese aesthetics is known asokashii—the amusing and the strange — and this high incidence ofokashii (as opposed toaware, roughly translated to us as the pathos of things passing) often increases inThe Pillow Bookat moments when we might expect the opposite, at moments of distress and loss. (This is part of what makes me associate the book with what I think of as the“small” as opposed to the “minor.”) I provide contrasts that interest me alone, but which I cannot manage to get used to: I think I am the shyest and the boldest person, the gayest and the saddest. It’s not I that am violent, it’s the contrasts, the great opposites that clash within me. I hate to be complaining, yet I like to complain and play the victim. I shun medicine, yet I have a passion for pharmaceutical products, because pharmacists are interested in what I have to say, whereas doctors don’t listen to me. “You can tell whether or not the dough was kneaded by hand,” he said. “My mom always does this thing where, after she rolls out the dough, she slaps it between her palms, back and forth, back and forth, for no reason at all other than to get her skin on it.” Edda gapes at me as I fill my glass and asks: Didn’t he say it should wait?.