So, I have a new monthly project: "Short Stories and Supper," I call it. Life here at Woodstock gets more than a little insular. I get tired of recycling the same five topics of conversation, all of which have something to do with school.
Enter The Project....
We all read the same short story and then get together to discuss it over dinner. Brilliant, isn't it? No one has time for a book club, but everyone can squeeze in a short story.
We met for the first time tonight. Embarrassingly, I've been here a year and this was also the first time I've had some of these guests in my house. I haven't entertained much, and I realise that I've missed it. I love serving good food and trying to make people feel like they're being "treated." I love bringing people together who normally might not talk to each other and I love hearing what they have to say.
I sent out the story on Friday; a short, short story by Kurt Vonnegut: "Harrison Bergeron." It's Brave-New-World-ish, about a dystopic society in which everyone with any gift must wear a handicap to be equal to the rest of the population. It's brash, unsubtle, and as some pointed out, "child-like." But that's deceptive. I have never been able to forget it in the way I forget so much of what I read. The climax comes when a man calling himself The Emperor charges on to a television set, and grabs a ballerina. They throw off their handicaps and dance, floating up to the ceiling on "love and pure will." Right before they're both shot by the wicked Handicapper General.
We had some interesting discussion, but I felt nervous (mostly, I think, because I have no sense of the group yet, and what people were feeling/thinking/expecting, and because two English teachers came). What I was not able to articulate clearly in the group was how--from the first time I read the story--Vonnegut provoked this visceral yet profound response in me. It's why I can't forget his story, or maybe it's his parable. I want to keep the ballerinas and Mozarts. I want to read writers who take me to a different world or help me see my own. I want life not to be fair.
Enter The Project....
We all read the same short story and then get together to discuss it over dinner. Brilliant, isn't it? No one has time for a book club, but everyone can squeeze in a short story.
We met for the first time tonight. Embarrassingly, I've been here a year and this was also the first time I've had some of these guests in my house. I haven't entertained much, and I realise that I've missed it. I love serving good food and trying to make people feel like they're being "treated." I love bringing people together who normally might not talk to each other and I love hearing what they have to say.
I sent out the story on Friday; a short, short story by Kurt Vonnegut: "Harrison Bergeron." It's Brave-New-World-ish, about a dystopic society in which everyone with any gift must wear a handicap to be equal to the rest of the population. It's brash, unsubtle, and as some pointed out, "child-like." But that's deceptive. I have never been able to forget it in the way I forget so much of what I read. The climax comes when a man calling himself The Emperor charges on to a television set, and grabs a ballerina. They throw off their handicaps and dance, floating up to the ceiling on "love and pure will." Right before they're both shot by the wicked Handicapper General.
We had some interesting discussion, but I felt nervous (mostly, I think, because I have no sense of the group yet, and what people were feeling/thinking/expecting, and because two English teachers came). What I was not able to articulate clearly in the group was how--from the first time I read the story--Vonnegut provoked this visceral yet profound response in me. It's why I can't forget his story, or maybe it's his parable. I want to keep the ballerinas and Mozarts. I want to read writers who take me to a different world or help me see my own. I want life not to be fair.
2 Comments:
Amy, that is the only short story I can remember, and it made a profound impression on me as well!! I think the most poignant part is when the dad (I think?) asks the mom why she's crying, and she can't remember...maybe it's the other way around... Great first choice!
That's right; George asks Hazel why she's crying and she can't remember.
Yeah, wish you could hop on a plane and join us! That would be fun...
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