New Yorker Short Story Discussion

I'm gonna read the story and be back.

Great idea guys!

I read it, I'm floored.

This is the sort of story that sets my imagination tumbling. Our protagonist is a nameless woman who lives and works with her nameless mother as an appraiser and as a lover of all things old. And where better to look than in New Hampshire? They are direct descendants fro an Ojibwa tribe in the Dakotas. Now, she is called on to sort through and appraise the belongings of the old Tatro house, and an early Tatro had been Indian Agent. He is believed to have accumulated a collection of Ojibwa relics, and the women suspect that these may be squirreled away in the old house.

The descriptions of the house and its natural setting, of the interior, and of the people are perfect. There is just enough information. Everything is moving along as might be expected. Nothing unusual happening.

When the Indian items are found in large numbers, she focuses on a painted drum, and, stepping completely out of character, she steals it. This is where things get interesting, and I am not sure I know what the author intends.

The drum has mysterious powers. It strikes me that when her grandmother was brought east, three generations ago, the spirits may have had in mind that her descendants would be marked to retrieve the drum which was looted from the Indians by the Agent, J.P. Tatro. She brings the drum into her bedroom, and at night gets out of bed to hear footsteps go past her. It is as though her dead self and living self meet to sleep.

Did she die?

Was she as in some sense formerly dead and now made spiritually alive through the powers of the drum?

I'd give worlds to know. I hope someone has some ideas.

I like the second option you listed Hazlitt. She speaks of the jobs she does, how some houses come alive. In a sense, it's her herself coming alive in response to a little treasure she's found. The last image of her and her ghost self passing - she's not dead.... but, what? A connectedness to the spiritual world that many native tribes are attributed with?

Oh, great, I'm glad this is taking off.

I mentioned recently that I like to read the stories in the New Yorker before I know who the author is -- this is probably a case in point. I'm very familiar with Louise Erdrich ("Love Medicine" was probably one of the very first adult novels I ever read, age 12 or so) and it was hard for me to step back and look at the story on its own merits. (I don't know if that kind of context is a good or a bad thing, but I like being able to do both -- experience the story in and of itself, then see who the author is and say "Oh!") (Or "Wow, who the heck is that?")

So, first, as I began reading I thought, approvingly, "She's finally going beyond Native American themes!" And then was kinda disappointed (no idea why -- unfair, surely) when it did turn out to be very much Native American-themed.

Second, the stuff about death was particularly poignant because of the suicide of her husband, Michael Dorris. That is what I immediately thought of when I saw this line:



I hardly ever dislike fiction in the New Yorker -- they know their stuff -- but this one didn't knock my socks off. It was a just a tad too formulaic, a tad too predictable. There were lots of very finely honed phrases and beautifully observed moments, to be sure. The last one, especially, describing how "In the night our maze of pathways is audibly retraced." Gorgeous and resonant without spelling anything out too much. I agree, littlek and Hazlitt, that it is about some kind of transformation/ rebirth, not that she died at that moment.

TNY often excerpts chapters (especially first chapters) from novels, and this part...



...makes me wonder if that's what's going on, if this is all a prelude to something else. What thefts will be accomplished? What will the repercussions be? What is she about to become, or in the process of becoming?

Hi littlek,

I suspect that you are right. The thing that got me to wondering is that the mother had said that the drum could kill. That set me to thinking about the possibility she'd died.

To me, this is an interesting story that illustrates how these two women have worked out some of the mysteries of their world.

I was very interested in how this otherwise very honest woman managed to justify to herself the theft of the drum. She says, "I had to think--not about whether what I'd done was right. By then I had decided that I wouldn't have done it unless it was, on some level right. And yet the explanation of this rightness swirled beyond my reach." The justification seems to be that, in some sense, the drum was being returned to rightful owners. Yet, she seems to find difficulty with that. She is faced with the question of breaching her own code of personal integrity and with breeching the criminal code. Is this justified?

I think not -- I think she is in denial, but has accepted being in denial. I really liked that aspect of the story -- the ambiguity of knowing that she doing the wrong thing but not allowing it to phase her. I think she is embracing the fact that her well-ordered, somewhat barren existence has been thrown for a loop. Kinda like kissing the guy in the leather jacket even though you know he's up to no good.

Sozobe, when it comes to her motivations for the theft, I was mistaken to give her thoughts a philosophical turn. Her thoughts, upon rereading seem conflicting and muddy. One line I had focused on was, "I have stepped out of rules and laws and am breathing thin, new air." This even sounded a little like Nietzche's Ubermensch.

You are absolutely right about not wanting to be encumbered with too much information about an author before reading the story. That knowledge is an encumberance to understanding just the story. There is the temptation to drift off into amateur psychologizing, or we simply dismiss all or parts of the story as "Oh, this is just what I'd expect form this guy."

As a practical matter, how do you avoid knowing who the author is? Maybe you have someone blot out the name.

Hee hee, I try to just not look. Not 100% successful, but often works. My subscription just lapsed (sent a renewal form before the deadline given for lapsing, but haven't gotten anything for the past 3 weeks ) so it's harder to do online.

The other side of the "that's just what you'd expect" thing are the "Whoa!" moments -- recently read one by E.L. Doctorow, thought wow, this is a hot new talent, really going places, who is it....? OH!

Okay... this is a re-creation of a posting...

I really enjoyed this story, I thought it was quite tight with few unnecessary words (thank you, Strunk & White) and I loved the idea of a drum calling to the appraiser.

I also thought that the drum, as was described, could be a "dangerous object" and shouldn't be put in a museum. Remember, it shouldn't be left alone, should be covered? How can a museum display do that? She was quite right to see that and take it away. I think if we could put ourselves into the mindset of a native American, her "white crime" was justified.

I also think that most people are aware that plenty of BIA officials took what they were supposed to caretake. Exactly why was this sacred object in the hands of these people? Maybe the drum itself had cursed them and anyone who lived in that house. I thought it was clever to see the house as dark red, the color of old blood, also the color of Indian skin, right? The drum had taken over the house I think.

Houses figured into the story with the appraisers' house. Wasn't it interesting to think of the house "storing up footfalls" and repeating them at night? Gads, I love that idea. Also, footfalls are a similar rhythmic sound to a drum beating. My house, as a matter of fact, has begun to make similar noises at night, sort of a settling in ever since our last big earthquake. I don't THINK that they are echoes of footsteps, but....

There are other things going on as well, e.g. the idea of living a spare life, and of course, there is the gossip about the author and her husband, who apparently was being accused by one of his adopted daughters for sexual abuse. I have never read Love Medicine, but I did read Yellow Raft in Blue Water, sort of unremarkable, as I recall, but maybe a re-reading is in order. So many native Americans end up with true tragedy in their lives.

I thought it was interesting that someone thought the heroine had been killed by the drum. Sleep is the little death, but I don't think she has died. I do think that she believed the drum could have that power. The abililty to shape-shift and move in and out of your material body is definitely an aim if you're drumming, I think.

I am interested that you thought this might be the beginning of a serialized story -- if so, I'd like to read it.

Great, glad you re-created your response! Fabulous indeed.

I don't think it's the beginning of a serialized story, per se, so much as a chapter (not sure if the first or not) in a novel that will be published whole at some point. I read the first chapter of "Fury" as a free-standing story in the New Yorker, for example. I was trying to find out when "Love Medicine" was published to see what age I was when I read it (published in '83, my mom got it right away, I read it shortly after she did, so 12 is about right) and found a reference to a character in a novel she was working on being an Indian agent. I couldn't find anything further, though. I'm thinking this is going to be one of those multi-generational magical realism deals, starting with Tatro and then reverberations thereof.

"Yellow Raft in Blue Water" was definitely ho-hum. Erdrich is by far the more talented of the two. (YRIBW is by Dorris.) "Love Medicine" is her masterwork, I think -- I also found a wonderful quote by her that when she started writing, the stories were there and fighting to get out, and then after a while she had to sit down and call them to her. "Love Medicine" is her first book and is definitely chock full of fully-fledged characters who just needed a medium to bridge the gap adn tell their stories. Stunning. I've read all of her books, I think, but that one is by far my favorite.

Anyway, yes, I agree about how wonderfully tight and spare the language is.

In terms of the drum, I don't think justification is really the point -- I think the point is that such thought processes happen beyond rationality, beyond morality, and that she is open to that kind of beyond for the first time.

I thought it was interesting that the drum was properly covered up, that the artifacts had been cared for -- the new newspaper. That hints at the Tatro's compexity, that they weren't simple stereotypes of bad white men.

Here's the quote:



And the part about the Indian agent -- I'm not sure if he appears as a character in "Tales of Burning Love", which I haven't read yet:



The way the question came up it sounded like she hadn't written anything like that yet.

http://www.salon.com/weekly/interview960506.html

Fabulous review, well a fabulous story... in the original sense -- a story from beyond the material world, I think.

The reason I talked about the need for justification is that the story is about a crime. But which is the crime? Stealing the drum, or stealing the drum back? The rest of the story is, to me, showing the power of the drum. For all we know, that drum could be powerful enough that it is what made everything come to a head... for that woman and for her mother to be in the appraisal business, for them to be at that point where the drum could be rescued. We have to step outside of our western culture, I think.

You are right that the old bachelors were "trying" to do the right thing with the drum, but as non-Ojibway, how could they really do so? If they knew the right way to be with the drum, they'd also realize it belonged with the tribe, should be with the drumkeeper. There is no way they'd ever be given that responsibility. It would be like Jewish people giving the Ark of the Covenant to the Nazis, that's not going to happen voluntarily.

From the University of Wisconsin:
As for the drum, Benton-Benai relates that "the drum is very integral to us, because all drums represent the heartbeat of the people." He goes on to say that, contrary to a popular belief, the "big drum" is not the original drum.

That honor properly rests with the water drum, so sacred that it cannot be seen in public. Ojibwe Music shows a facsimile of the "drum of drums," which signifies the heartbeat of the creator, of the universe, of creation and of the people.

I'm not sure about this water-drum versus the big-drum that they speak of from the U. of Wisconsin. Either way, I think that the drum is an amazing subject... the drumkeeper faced with an awesome responsbility.

Here's a link to "The Drum as Icon and Teacher in D/Lakota Life." The Ojibway are part of the Dakota tradition and this would apply to them.

http://www.american-music.org/publications/bullarchive/Ritter.html

Piffka, after reading the exchange between you and Sozobe, and especially the quote above, I revise my thought that "the spirits" may have brought the old grandmother east at about the same time the drum was being transported there. It now appears to me that perhaps the drum, itself, had the power to bring the grandmother east so that a descendant of the proper tribe would be there when the time was ripe for retrieval.

Your two are way ahead of me when it comes to an understanding of how the American Indian thinks.

Hazlitt, you're much too modest. I always enjoy reading your contributions. And thanks again for the idea to start this discussion series -- I'm looking forward to tomorrow and a new story.

I agree that the idea is that the drum is exerting some kind of power and hold; perhaps over the Tatros as well, hence their care for it. And, perhaps, hence their evidently strange lives. This goes back to my criticism of the story as being a little too formulaic, a little too predictable, though; it's not so much that I know how an American Indian thinks, as that I have read variations of this story before. From Erdrich, from others. I personally find Sherman Alexie's stories of modern-day Indians more interesting than the deep, spiritual Native American stuff that has become almost a cliche. Erdrich pulls it off in the story, but barely, and I'd be interested in what she does with a whole book.

I don't think the story is about the crime, by the way -- I think the story is about the narrator, and her transformation. The "crime" (which she doesn't really consider to be such) is just the catalyst.

Hazlitt, I think you were heading in that direction, and I think your idea that the drum could be a killer, that it may have, in fact, killed the appraiser, was very interesting. I think that a non-Indian might have been killed by the drum, but that is because I am willing to suspend my own grasp of reality and enjoy the beliefs of others. Even if it didn't "kill" the woman, the drum did "kill" her old life. It is hard to believe that she will be the same person after her encounter and her acceptance of the will of the drum; her willingness to become a drumkeeper.

I understand some of what you mean, Sozobe, though I think Erdrich pulled off the story pretty well, not barely. I have not yet read enough deep spiritual Native American stuff to call it a cliche; maybe that's because I really enjoy the whole-hearted world view of Indians and am not put off by beliefs that go beyond what I know or have been taught. On the contrary, I like to read about things like this because I tie it into my own heathen views. I have read a lot of Native American ethnographies and histories and am friends with a few Native Americans so I know that their lives are much more spiritually oriented than those of the average 21st-century American.

I think if the story continues, it will describe and flesh-out the transformation of the woman. As it stands though, this story is too short to do more than show a transformation is in process. That's why I said that this story is about the crime of stealing the drum. Of course, I'm convinced that the real crime happened when the drum was taken from the Indians. A flashback to that seems like an obvious part of a continuation of the story. I also hope Erdrich continues the narration -- I'd be interested to see how she resolves it.

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