Lest the reader imagine that I am letting my fancy free to infer Penner’s early attitudes from his later and more rounded nature, I shall quote here some of the first scrawly-handed entries to be found in his diaries. He began his records early and continued them until his unfortunate demise. There is an astonishing continuity of content and tone to them over the years, despite the changes of style we might expect, along with Penner’s mounting maturity and enlargement of learning. The late journals of his middle (and last) years are increasingly devoted to philosophical reflections. What Luther Penner always wants to know is “why?” “why?”
- April 1. Got a wagon for my birthday. No red wheels.
- April 18. Pushed out of my wagon — my! wagon — three times! this morning Millicent said I was a… meezy peezy.
- May 4. What is a meezy peezy. Millicent calls me. Why. Her pants were dirty. I didn’t say so. Look out, Millicent.
- May 25. Andy pulled up all of Mrs. Putnam’s flowers. I was tripped by Sully while I was running! Still a sore on my arm! Cried in front of his father. Craig is going on a picnic tomorrow. Hope it rains! Marsh is a sneak.
- May 26. It! Did! Hard! Is! I can hear it! hitting on my window. Good! G!o!o!d! I have to stay in my room. I don’t care.
- May 30. Millicent pushed me! More than once! Why.
- June 11. We went to the farm. Saw horses, cows, plop, and chickens. Like geese least. Hissers and honkers. Just like Millicent! I fell down a lot. Daddy drove in a ditch driving home! I put my hankie in my mouth so as not to make ha ha.
- June 17. Red faced fat boy moved next door. Picks his nose on his front porch. Why.
- June 19. Maybe because he knows nobody likes it.
William H. Gass, “The Master of Secret Revenges”
In his review of Gass’s Cartesian Sonata for The New York Times, titled, of all things, “Wrestling With God,” eternal blowhard James Wood refers to “The Master of Secret Revenges” as the only story in the collection in which Gass manages to “create a life with a moving otherness,” Wood’s ultimate criterion for realist fiction and one immediately and obviously irrelevant to Gass’s entire creative project. “Some mysterious fire burns in Luther’s heart, and so in the heart of this beautiful story,” Wood writes. “Luther is a character who flies out of Gass’s over-anxious grasp.”
Everyone disliked that.
Leave a Reply