Henry Green (1905-1973), the English novelist, is one of my favorite authors and I have referred to
and excerpted portions of his writings many times on ACravan. For me, at least, his
novels reflect reality in all of
its obliqueness, abstractions, sideways
glances, miscues, missteps, face and mind-slaps, body blows and depredations.
Most of Green’s novels have gerund-form
titles (Living, Party Going, Loving, Concluding, Nothing and Doting), simultaneously
conveying steady-state frameworks and evolving
actions and outlooks (process). It’s a profound device, which I have occasionally
(for my own amusement because I lack Green’s wit and wisdom) tried to emulate in
certain titles here here with mixed results (e.g., Sandwiching; Verging; Walking).
I called today’s post Incoming because I
have recently felt myself under various forms
of attack. Being raised (in a
better, healthier and less pretentious cinema world) on a steady diet of World War II movies, later supplanted by nuclear
holocaust dramas and comedies, I always loved the dialogue moments where an actor urgently
and at increased volume and intensity intoned the
word “incoming” to denote the imminent arrival of attack missiles. Incoming
also suggested professional endeavors and the pursuit of commercial gain:
necessary, important and so often frustrating
these days, and which
like rocket attacks sometimes seems to call for prayer or taking evasive action. So the title seemed
possibly clever and artful, a two-in-one exercise in
creative expression.
Sitting at home a few evenings ago, where things should be safe, missiles rained down on me as I drank wine and served dinner. I thought I saw troubling
signs on my inner radar earlier that
day, but after polishing my screen I decided
the abnormalities were only dust motes.
Unfortunately, I was gravely mistaken. I am a quiet person. I
assiduously avoid
engaging in pointless, unnecessary arguments about non-germane controversial
questions in social and business
situations. Partly this is based on past
mistakes. Once, long ago, I think
I greatly offended a very nice man (and an
important company customer) by commenting on religion when I simply should have
kept silent. Politics and religion
really ARE subjects to try to avoid in company
you’d like to keep polite, if you can.
I rebuffed the first attack (which took the form of a
guest making an ad hominem, non-sequitur jibe at a political candidate whom she suspected I supported) simply by ignoring it and
continuing along the straight path
of narrative explanation which, thank heaven, was still available to me. (I had been in the process of answering a
question about the geography of
my daughter’s summer camp when the missile
whistled in.)
But Round 1 was simply to calibrate aim
and strafe. Round 2 was The Main Event and I suddenly found myself in mid-bombardment figuring as proxy for the disfavored politician, being asked to justify myself regarding some serious (but hypothetical and disputed) faults my doppelganger and I supposedly shared.
I joined issue briefly and I think successfully, but I really
wish I hadn’t responded at all. You just
don’t do that sort of thing at other people’s houses. Accepting a dinner invitation isn’t “war by
other means.” Treating it as such is Madness.
Late in his life, Henry Green said a couple of
memorable things about the dangers
inherent in leaving the house, recommending the “oblique approach in middle age.” He also added wisely that one should love one’s wife and one’s cats.
I believe he felt safe at home, however, as we all should.
I still like the
sound of “incoming” in war pictures.
That’s because it’s only a
movie.
Leaving home is always dangerous, but being only at home can be dangerous also, at least for me. Lately, I've been acutely focused on trying to feel safer away from home with some success.
ReplyDeleteI also have found discussions about politics and religion are very frequently accompanied by incoming fire, and one of my oldest friends and I don't agree on such things. But when Sam died, I reflexively called her for comfort. I wailed, "Eileen, Sam died." We spent over an hour on the phone. Politics and religion never came up. The "ties that bind" can overcome great divides.
Terrific song.
Of course there are a few assumptions (welcome ones -- such as there being ties that bind) in what you say. Some people are just .... feral. (In the commonly used negative sense; some of my best friends are classified as feral and they all have excellent manners and reserved dispositions.) I'm glad you like the song. If you don't know it, it's the lead-off track on the important early country-rock record by The International Submarine Band, Gram Parsons' pre-Byrds outfit that migrated from Cambridge, MA to the Bronx to Hollywood many years ago and wound up on Lee Hazlewood's LHI label. Glen Campbell (who I believe played some on the record) wrote the very complimentary liner note appreciation. It is a HIGHLY enjoyable album that signaled the arrival of a major new talent. Curtis
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