George Saunders - Lincoln in the Bardo

roger bevins iii

Several of Mr. Bevins’s many eyes, I noted, were rolling.

hans vollman

Waiting for the Reverend to dismount from his high horse, Mr. Vollman was amusing himself by repeatedly placing a pebble on his tremendous member and watching it tumble down.

roger bevins iii

We must look out for ourselves, the Reverend said. And, by doing so, we protect the boy as well. He must hear nothing of this rumor, which would only serve to raise his hopes. As we know, only utter hopelessness will lead him to do what he must. Therefore, not a word. Are we in agreement?

We mumbled our assent.

hans vollman

Lacking the necessary spring in his (ancient) legs (he had come here already quite old), the Reverend began clawing his way up one wall and soon (although not that soon) vanished through the ceiling.

roger bevins iii

Leaving Mr. Bevins and me there below, alone.

hans vollman

In truth, we were bored, so very bored, so continually bored.

roger bevins iii

Each night passed with a devastating sameness.

hans vollman

We had sat every branch on every tree. Had read and re-read every stone. Had walked down (run down, crawled down, laid upon) every walk, path, and weedy trail, had waded every brook; possessed a comprehensive knowledge of the textures and tastes of the four distinct soil types here; had made a thorough inventory of every hair-style, costume, hair-pin, watch-fob, sock-brace, and belt worn by our compatriots; I had heard Mr. Vollman’s story many thousands of times, and had, I fear, told him my own at least as many times.

roger bevins iii

In short, it was dull here, and we craved the slightest variation.

hans vollman

Anything new was a treasure; we longed for any adventure, the merest lark.

roger bevins iii

There would be no harm, we thought, in taking a quick trip.

hans vollman

Out to where the gentleman sat.

roger bevins iii

We need not even tell the Reverend we were going.

We could just…go.

hans vollman

It was always a relief to be free of the old bore for a bit.

roger bevins iii

Bursting out through the front wall, Mr. Bevins and I set off.

hans vollman

Ignoring the Reverend’s peevish cries of protest from the roof.

roger bevins iii

Cutting down through the clover-engorged dell occupied by the seven flood-sickened members of the Palmer family, we shortly reached that thin gray-slate trail that runs below, passing between Coates on one side and Wemberg on the other.

hans vollman

Wended our way past Federly, Blessed are those who die in the Light.

roger bevins iii

A chess-piece-looking monument, topped with a vase, that ends in what looks like a nipple.

hans vollman

And proceeded through the M. Boyden/G. Boyden/Gray/Hebbard cluster.

roger bevins iii

Into that slight hollow which is, in spring, overgrown with foxglove and coneflower.

hans vollman

But was now a massive dormant tangle of gray.

roger bevins iii

Wherein two slothful winter birds glared at us as we passed.

hans vollman

Birds being distrustful of our ilk.

roger bevins iii

Jogging down the far side of the North Hill, we greeted Merkel (kicked by a bull but still looking forward to the dance); Posterbell (a dandy whose looks had gone, who fervently wished that his hair might be restored and his gums might reverse their recession and the muscles of his arms might no longer resemble flaccid straps and his dinner suit be brought to him, and a bottle of scent and a bouquet of flowers, so that he might once again go courting); Mr. and Mrs. West (fire with no possible cause, as they were always meticulously careful regarding management of the hearth); and Mr. Dill (mumbling contentedly about his grandson’s excellent university marks, eagerly anticipating the spring graduation).

hans vollman

And proceeded past Trevor Williams, former hunter, seated before the tremendous heap of all the animals he had dispatched in his time: hundreds of deer, thirty-two black bear, three bear cubs, innumerable coons, lynx, foxes, mink, chipmunks, wild turkeys, woodchucks, and cougars; scores of mice and rats, a positive tumble of snakes, hundreds of cows and calves, one pony (carriage-struck), twenty thousand or so insects, each of which he must briefly hold, with loving attention, for a period ranging from several hours to several months, depending on the quality of loving attention he could muster and the state of fear the beast happened to have been in at the time of its passing. Being thus held (the product of time and loving attention being found sufficient, that is), that particular creature would heave up, then trot or fly or squirm away, diminishing Mr. Williams’s heap by one.

roger bevins iii

It was an extraordinary pile, nearly as tall as the chapel spire.

hans vollman

He had been a prodigious hunter and had many years of hard work yet ahead of him.

roger bevins iii

He called out to us, arms full of calf, asking us to keep him company, saying that his was good toil but lonely, as he was not permitted to ever stand and stroll about.

hans vollman

I explained to him that we were on an urgent mission and must not delay.

roger bevins iii

Mr. Williams (a good sort, never unhappy, always cheerful since his conversion to gentleness) acknowledged that he understood, by waving one hoof of the calf.

hans vollman

Soon we approached the massive Collier sick-home, of Italian marble, encircled by three concentric rose gardens, marked, on either side, by an ornate fountain (waterless, now, for winter).

roger bevins iii

When one owns four homes and has fifteen full-time gardeners perfecting one’s seven gardens and eight man-made streams, one will, of necessity, spend a great deal of time racing between homes and from garden to garden, and so it is perhaps not surprising if, one afternoon, rushing to check on the progress of a dinner one’s cook is preparing for the board of one’s favorite charity, one finds oneself compelled to take a little rest, briefly dropping to one knee, then both knees, then pitching forward on to one’s face and, unable to rise, proceeding here for a more prolonged rest, only to find it not restful at all, since, while ostensibly resting, one finds oneself continually fretting about one’s carriages, gardens, furniture, homes, et al., all of which (one hopes) patiently await one’s return, not having (Heaven forfend) fallen into the hands of some (reckless, careless, undeserving) Other.

percival “dash” collier

Mr. Collier (shirt clay-stained at the chest from his fall, nose crushed nearly flat) was constantly compelled to float horizontally, like a human compass needle, the top of his head facing in the direction of whichever of his properties he found himself most worried about at the moment.

The top of his head was now facing west. Our arrival causing his worrying to wane, he let out an involuntary gasp of pleasure, bobbed up to vertical, turned to face us.

hans vollman

Mr. Collier, said Mr. Vollman.

Mr. Vollman, said Mr. Collier.

roger bevins iii

A new property-worry then crossing his mind, he was thrown violently forward, stomach down, and, with a grunt of dread, spun to face north.

hans vollman

Next we must short-cut through that swampy little section populated by our very lowest.

hans vollman

They sought the damp and moonless feeling here.

roger bevins iii

Here stood Mr. Randall and Mr. Twood, in perpetual conversation.

hans vollman

Rendered mutually inarticulate by we knew not what misfortune.