ENG 263: The Love Story

Butler’s “The Trip Back” is a heartbreaking story.  It is different from the love stories we have read in the sense that it is not necessarily about romantic love.  There is certainly room to see that, of course, between Mai and her husband.  There are several scenes between the two in which he describes their relationship, but I believe that the most interesting “love story” is between Mai and Mr. Chinh.  Mr. Chinh is Mai’s grandfather whom she hasn’t seen in years.  The narrator recounts the stories that his wife has told him about Mr. Chinh when she was a young girl.  The twist is that Mr. Chinh does not even remember Mai; he does not even believe that she should exist.  There is a love story present, even when one of the characters does not even know the other person.

You get this sense that there is something off about the grandfather.  He rarely speaks, and when he does he doesn’t say much or he says something very strange, like his obsession with cars.  There is an uneasy feeling throughout the story as the drive continues.  I think that the combination of this uneasy feeling and the eventual revelation that Mr. Chinh suffers from dementia is what makes this story so believable and moving.  Maybe, as someone who has gone through a similar experience with a grandfather, I am biased, but there is something about this story that really struck with me.

Like I said, perhaps this is because I witnessed someone slowly lose their mind and their memories to disease.  It really is a slow realization and an uneasy feeling that develops over time.  The narrator does not realize until it is too late that Mr. Chinh does not remember Mai.  It’s a tragic love story.  You hear about the granddaughter’s passion for her grandfather but you never get to witnesses it, which is why I think this story is so beautiful yet heartbreaking.

This story is perfectly heartbreaking, and it is because the issue at hand is so real and relatable and the events involved are not at all melodramatic. The story is so basic: a family member is being reunited with another family member after many years. And the events of the story are so simple: a man drives his wife’s relative home from the airport. But the brilliance behind this story is in the details, the characterization, and the inevitable yet surprising conclusion that is so relatable.

Sometimes stories lose me in a mess of plot twists and melodramatic events or things that I cannot relate to. In this story, however, the heartbreak comes from something as simple as memory loss in an older person. As a reader, I assumed some form of Alzheimer’s; although maybe I should not make assumptions, that disease is something I have had experience with, so I projected it onto the story. Anyway, this memory loss is something that many people have probably seen in older relatives, and it is something that I know many people fear might happen to themselves. This makes the story more real and more heartbreaking for the reader instead of “my entire family of aliens was murdered by pirates on Mars.” Instead of relying on that sort of plot to drive the story forward, this plot remains simple yet incredibly heartbreaking through common occurrences that are relatable.

It is also heartbreaking because of the development of the characters and the details that the author chooses to include. “He remembered his car, but he can’t remember his own granddaughter” (42) is a particularly painful line to read, but it would not have been possible without the details earlier in the story. The time that the narrator spends talking about cars with Mr. Chinh and observing the way that Mr. Chinh reacts to cars shows that Mr. Chinh not only remembers his cars but has an emotional connection to these machines that he does not have with his granddaughter. That is something the author could not have outright said, but through observation by the narrator and the details throughout the story this established by showing instead of telling.

The ending was set up very well because it was inevitable yet surprising. The second Mr. Chinh got off the plane with his nephew and then the same nephew got back on the plane immediately, the reader knew something was up. My one critique of this scene is that maybe it wasn’t subtle enough (the narrator really drove it home that he did not like the nephew, maybe a little too much) but other than that it set up very early on in the story that something was up with Mr. Chinh. At first I thought that it was the wrong man, that they had rescued someone else from Asia and we getting the wrong man. So I think this scene creates a lot of doubt in the reader’s mind while creating multiple possibilities for what that doubt could be centered around. The ending where Mr. Chinh does not remember his granddaughter is such an obvious solution to the doubt that was presented earlier.

The other “twist” of the ending was that the narrator gives his wife a ride on his back. Again, this is not surprising because it was talked about earlier in the story, but it was never super-obvious to the reader that it was going to happen. The ending was well-crafted by relating to the earlier story while having some twists of its own.

I am always somewhat amazed when a story of just two pages can force me to feel a myriad of emotions. The opening is simple, with a couple depicted carving pumpkins, one much more talented than the other. But Clark is 78 while Allison is a youthful 35. We were met with the same jarring age difference in “It’s Bad Luck to Die” as well, and I initially assumed that this element would lead to something greater — the woman using the man or his money, or in McCracken’s story the older man taking advantage of the younger girl. Neither of my assumptions were correct. In fact, I found myself quickly forgetting about their age  because of the more significant elements of the story. Their relationship is not built upon age but love and compassion (as clichéd as that might sound). There is some hint to Allison’s illness in the first few paragraphs but nothing that led me to believe it was Allison who would soon pass away. In fact, I was under the impression that Clark would be the first to go and that perhaps they had developed this relationship so Allison could care for him.

Toward the end of the story, an act as simple (or as complicated) as pumpkin carving is given an entirely new meaning.

He wanted to tell her, from the greater perspective he had, that to own only a little talent, like his, was an awful, plaguing thing; that being only a little special meant you expected too much, most of the time, and liked yourself too little.

This sort of omniscient narrator touches on Clark’s thoughts in this moment — his age, with this quote, became strikingly apparent. And with that, the story was over…but I didn’t want more. I knew that Allison was dying but that she seemed at peace and the two seemed comfortable. I was filled with hope and sadness, joy and dismay, in only a few pages.

I think, firstly, that the characters of “It’s Bad Luck to Die” keep the story from being clichéd. We start right off the bat with a tall girl and a short man, something that is often seen as undesirable. The main character herself points this out, but it adds an element of reality to the story. Real life isn’t the movies, as Lois says. The story, though maybe not as perfect and romantic as some readers may like, is realistic because of its imperfections. In addition, the characters have a fairly large age gap. While this honestly grossed me out at first, I think it too adds a dash of reality to the work of fiction and again works to make the piece believable. If nothing else, readers are drawn into the story because of Lois’s voice and because of the way their relationship seems like a part of real life; I feel like I could walk down to a tattoo shop and see a young woman and an older man hanging around behind the counter.

Another choice that McCracken made to make the reader invested was the timing. The story starts (almost) at the beginning, and ends at the end of their relationship, but in between we get a lot of different experiences all mixed in. It jumps from time period to time period, talking about the beginning of their relationship, about Tiny before he met Lois, about Lois and her mother, and continues bouncing. It’s easy to follow, but you find that in a short period of time, you feel like you’ve just learned years-worth of information. It gave me the impression that Lois and Tiny’s love was timeless, even though it was certainly finite.

Both of these choices by McCracken, the characterization and the pacing, impacted the story to make it seem like real life and endless (while still being enjoyable; it didn’t ‘drag on’ by any means of the phrase). While perhaps unconventional, Lois and Trip’s relationship was one of honesty, trust, open communication and vulnerability, without ever having to describe itself as such. McCracken made excellent choices while writing to make a love story that was every bit as lasting as the tattoos her characters had.

In my other workshop, the class just worked on short pieces that began with a focus on a concrete object and then expanded out to a wider, more abstract lens. Tattoos were an example of a concrete object that could easily be expanded upon. Though this technique is obviously more prevalent in creative non-fiction, I couldn’t help but think about it while reading “It’s Bad Luck to Die.” In fiction would we simply call it metaphor? To me, it seems too obvious — tattoos represent the mark Tiny has made on Lois, how they have developed together, and that he is still with her when he passes away.
I think the last sentence (“I told him that I apologized, that I understood, but really; I am not a museum, not yet, I’m a love letter, a love letter.”) is massively effective. As I just stated, I thought the metaphor was too simple, but this adds depth or another layer of understanding. A museum is where valuable things of no use are donated; a place where people admire things that exist from the past. Their love is still present, so she is still a love letter, not an artifact. I also found Lois’s relationship with her mother very realistic. It would have been too easy to make her the villain. She could have easily shunned her daughter, but that often isn’t how families work. Most stick together regardless of their divisive differences.

I also am curious about the effectiveness of the story. I am interested to know if it resonated with my classmates in the same way it did for me. I have a strong personal connection to tattoos and what they mean that others might not have.

“It’s Bad Luck to Die” resembles more of a “traditional” love story than in “Fatso” and “Beatrice.”  While Lois and Tiny’s relationship is odd in its own way (their age difference is one example) the relationship is between two normal human beings.  Their relationship is still complex, though.

Tattoos are used as a bridge for the two characters.  Tattoos are how they met; tattoos are involved in their everyday lives.  McCracken uses the tattoos to describe her characters and move the story along.  While she never describes what Lois looks like, except that she is tall, the tattoos that Tiny gives her provide insight into her character and her relationship with her husband.

When Lois’s mother finally sees all her tattoos, she says, “…you’ve finally made yourself into the freak you thought you were.”  Lois then goes on to say that she has never felt like a freak but rather she has always felt like a ghost just taking up space.  Perhaps letting Tiny give her so many tattoos was her trying to “color herself in.”  Maybe the artwork was not only her way of her trying to express her love for Tiny but also her way of trying to feel less like a ghost and more like a person.  Lois has never felt like a freak because she has always felt invisible, and that is why her relationship with Tiny is so beautiful.  For the first time in her life, she felt noticed.  Tiny not only acknowledged her; he accepted her and in his own way used his artwork to help her feel less like a ghost or a waste of space.

There is not one type of love.  In “Beatrice” we saw love between man and machine.  In “It’s Bad Luck to Die” we see a love that evolves over time.  While the story is odd (with the age difference between the characters and the fact that Lois becomes a walking canvas), the characters grow and change with the tattoos.  We see Tiny’s art styles and interests change, but we also see Lois grow into herself.  Lois comments that she always felt that Babs was the rebel, but Babs grows up to lead a “normal” life.  Lois, on the other hand, marries an older man and allows him to basically tattoo her whole body.

Elizabeth McCracken crafts a unique and intriguing love story in “It’s Bad Luck to Die” through her use of characterization, character relations, and the structure of the story. The story is structured in a way that engages the reader and keeps movement flowing throughout a story that wouldn’t necessarily have a lot of movement.

Starting from the beginning, the author does a good job of grabbing the reader’s attention with her first line: “Maybe you wonder how a Jewish girl….” It’s effective because it grabs the reader by addressing him/her directly, and it is an interesting statement that plays to something that many people might think about or at least have basic knowledge about (religion).  We all know why it’s weird for a Jewish girl to have Jesus tattoos, and that’s something we might want to read further about to find out why. The story then dips back into an actual scene with dates and details. This gives the reader somewhere concrete to land after the first section. It also begins to set up the characters and their relationships, which become important to larger themes. From there McCracken continues with the use of direct scenes that reflect larger ideas. These small scenes are easier and more interesting to read than summary-like scenes, and they create a world for the reader to get lost in. 

Both Lois and Tiny are well-fleshed-out characters who have both physical and personality descriptions. The author does a good job of showing instead of telling when it comes to these characters. There was no place in the story that I felt like I was being ordered to think something about one of the characters. A few examples of where I felt this was well done were: “The shop was clean and smelled of antiseptic; Babs and I were disappointed” (4) and “Tiny turned around politely while Babs lowered her blue jeans” (5). The first line shows the sense of adventure that the two girls have when they are disappointed that the shop is clean. The use of a semi-colon in that sentence is an effective tool to show how closely related the two sentences are. The second sentence about Tiny shows his character because he is going to be sticking a needle into this girl’s butt in ten minutes, but he still turns around while she is in the vulnerable position of taking off her pants. There are details like these throughout the story that is very effective in describing the characters without actually describing them. 

The author also uses foils with other characters very well throughout the story to demonstrate more of Lois’s character. In a story like this where there isn’t a huge dramatic event like a volcano, it is the characters and their relationships that make the story interesting. Lois and her mother are effectively set up as foils to one another. The relationship with Babs also creates an interesting dynamic to the story because she brought Lois into the world of tattoos but she herself grew out of it. These relationships are well-done because they are ways of showing instead of telling while giving insight into who Lois is as a character.

All of this characterization is important because it creates an emotional connection between the reader and the characters. When it comes time for Tiny to die and for Lois to carry on without him, the reader needs to feel a connection so he or she cares. If the characters weren’t developed, the reader would have no reaction to their problems or their love story and the fact that she is a “love letter.”

I read “Fatso” last spring semester, and what I often did not enjoy were the terse and direct lines. The protagonist is somewhat detached from his love interest and is aloof. He regards the intimate human interactions with his girlfriend and relationships in general in a formulaic manner. He says, “she’s just trying to test you, to see whether you love her unconditionally.” I’ve also considered if this is a device to create an immediate rapport with the reader. Before readers can really chew over his words, they might begin to passively agree or at least follow along with his line of thought. It is almost like a reader trap.

What I appreciate about the piece is, despite the distaste I have with how he speaks about his relationship, I cannot help but appreciate the honesty of his character. I do not doubt this is how he thinks. Developing authentic characters in a short story can be difficult, and Keret does this in a few sentences. He also makes the likelihood of sentimentally rather slim. The protagonist’s emotional reactions are not over the top. When his girlfriend transforms into the “…short fat guy,” there is a change in the relationship. They simply enjoy each other’s company and also notices little things about his/her personality — such as how he “laughs likes a baby” and is “a little crass, especially with the women.” They also begin to enjoy soccer together even though the protagonist had no previous interest in it.

In “Beatrice” the relationship Anna Goldberg has with the steam engine Koenig & Bauer, which she named Hercules, is similar. She knew little to nothing about this machine whom she loved, but she filled a bookcase with manuals and disrupted her sleep to feed him fuel. It was much in the same way that the male protagonist forced himself to stay awake in order to watch Argentina in the soccer final. While the fate of Goldberg is much more tragic and her sacrifice of her life to birth her daughter is a much larger sacrifice, both relationships have similar aspects, including the theme of accepting their partners as they are. Their relationships require a certain recalibration to both parties involved because neither of the pairings are ordinary. Despite the fantastic nature of both short stories, the themes are applicable to reality.

“Anna stared at him with a blush that started at her neck and crept up her cheeks. “‘His name is Hercules,'” she said quietly.”

I found myself somewhat at a loss for words when entering into Karin Tidbeck’s “Beatrice.” She makes no hesitation in introducing this story as atypical and bizarre. “Franz Hiller, a physician, fell in love with an airship.” (pg. 15, Tidbeck) No hidden metaphors in this sentence; Franz Hiller was truly in love with an airship. Similarly to Franz, Anna Goldberg is seen to be deeply in love with a steam engine, Hercules. But as I continued to read, I was entranced by this twisted love story between human and machine. Tidbeck employs the typical attributes of the airship and the steam engine in ways that are often used to describe humans. “Beatrice remained cold and distant, no matter how Franz tried to warm their relationship” (pg. 19, Tieback) — cold, much like the feel of the metal, and distant, like the physical barrier separating them. But also cold like a woman’s heart might be or distant as the result of emotional walls. The story continues with easy conversation between Franz and Anna and, I’ll admit, I half expected the two of them to fall deeply in love. But, to my surprise, Anna offers words of wisdom. “Infatuation is worth nothing. It has nothing to do with the real world.” (pg. 19, Tidbeck) This sort of advice is something I couldn’t have anticipated — adding a much deeper meaning to an otherwise odd story. Anna later gives birth to what I’d like to call a bionic baby. This child, part human and part machine, is born with a hefty list of needs. Franz is depicted “greas(ing) Josephine’s pistons” and “feed(ing) her a steady diet of coal-water.” (pg. 21) My initial read of this reminded me of the challenges associated with a child with disabilities. While still behaving “much like a normal baby,” her needs are fine-tuned and require a significant amount of attention and devotion. Tidbeck defies the parameters of a typical love story and concludes with a relatively anticlimactic ending. Beatrice II is set free with Josephine close by her side.