Russell Hoban - Her Name Was Lola

‘Bit of a startler,’ says Max.

‘Joke, old man,’ says Basil, extending a large right hand. ‘Basil Meissen-Potts.’

‘Ha ha,’ says Max as his metacarpal bones splinter. ‘Max Lesser.’

‘Any relation to Solomon Lesser?’

‘No. Who’s he?’

‘A pawnbroker who brought an action against Lady Glister a couple of years ago. She’d left a diamond necklace worth half a million with him at a time when she was a bit short of the readies. A year later when she redeemed it and had it reappraised for insurance she was told that the stones were paste. They’d been diamonds when she left the necklace with Lesser so she went back to have a word with him. In the course of the conversation she beaned him with — what do you call those seven-branched candlesticks?’

‘Candelabra?’ says Max.

‘Menorahs,’ says Basil. ‘She hit him with a brass menorah that was standing on the counter and fractured his skull. So he sued her and I had to defend her.’

‘Who won?’ says Max.

‘We did. Lesser had to pay the full value of the diamonds plus what she’d given him to redeem the necklace plus court costs and damages for Lady Glister’s post-traumatic stress.’

‘You can’t trust a Solomon,’ says Max.

‘Don’t get me wrong,’ says Basil. ‘Some of my best friends are Solomons.’

‘Thank you for sharing that with us,’ says Lola to Basil. ‘Where are you off to?’

‘Claridge’s. Bachelor party for Bill Twimbley-Sturt. Mwah, mwah. See you.’ (This second mwah, mwah was unnecessary, thinks Max.) ‘Nice meeting you, Max.’

‘Same here,’ says Max. ‘I don’t meet too many Meissen-Pottses.’

‘We’re an ethnic minority now,’ says Basil. ‘Take care.’

‘Mind how you go,’ says Max. As Basil recedes into the evening he says to Lola, ‘I seem to remember your saying that he’s a part of a kind of life you’re accustomed to.’

‘Have you got a copy of The I Ching ?’ says Lola.

‘Sure. How come?’

‘Because I want to do it. Let’s go to your place.’

‘OK,’ says Max. ‘I suppose we’ll have to break the squalor barrier some time.’ As they head for the Brompton Road, Lola pressing against his arm, Max has the feeling that she’s afraid she’ll be swept away by a wave of reality. Past Harrods, all picked out in lights like a vertical landing strip for low-flying shoppers, past Michelin House and the shops and lights in the Fulham Road as the shining rednesses of the 14 buses come and go, all the way home he feels around him the play of yes and no. When he opens his front door he notices how stale the air inside is. Now they’re standing in his workroom which looks like something between a shipwreck and a bomb site. Bulging ranks of books look down from the shelves and totter in stacks on the floor along with dangerous heaps and sprawls of videotapes. Max’s computer sits on a trestle table in a welter of paper and CDs. Discarded pages litter the floor under his chair.

‘This works for you, does it?’ says Lola.

‘Oh yes. I don’t know where everything is but I know where a lot of things are.’ Max switches on lamps that contrive a pleasing balance of light and shadow on the clutter. He empties two armchairs, clears a little space on the floor, and gets The I Ching off the shelf. He opens a bottle of Jacob’s Creek red and pours two glasses. ‘Here’s looking at you, Lola,’ he says.

‘Here’s me looking right back,’ says Lola. Clink.

Max takes three George V pennies from their pocket inside the back cover of the book. ‘I haven’t done this since I was thirty,’ he says.

‘Haven’t you had any doubts since then?’ says Lola.

‘Lots,’ says Max, ‘but I don’t seem to crave as much clarity as I used to.’

‘This is going to be for both of us,’ says Lola, ‘so we’ll each throw the coins three times.’ She kneels on the floor, Max beside her. His throat aches with the poignancy of the lamplight on her cheek, on her hair. They throw the coins and get Hexagram 23, Po/ Splitting Apart: above , KEN — KEEPING STILL, MOUNTAIN, below , K’UN — THE RECEPTIVE, EARTH, with six in the beginning and six in second place. Lola and Max together skim the opening lines of the text, then Max reads aloud THE JUDGMENT:

‘SPLITTING APART. It does not further one

To go anywhere.’

‘Great,’ says Max. ‘This book really knows how to hurt a guy.’

‘Here’s THE IMAGE,’ says Lola:

‘The mountain rests on the earth:

The image of SPLITTING APART.

Thus those above ensure their position

Only by giving generously to those below.’

‘There you have it,’ says Max. ‘The only way to keep our heads is to get busy with our lower parts.’

‘I think you’re right,’ says Lola as she peels off her jumper. ‘We can work out a fuller interpretation later.’

February 1997. Still that Sunday. They’d grabbed each other as if to save themselves from drowning. Now that it’s over they still cling, not wanting to let go. It’s been a strange first time. Hexagram 23 was scary and unexpected in that it stated baldly what they both felt to be happening. Most of the time a hexagram is not to be taken literally: a judgment in which the superior man does this or that on a mountain is not necessarily about a man or a mountain. The thrower of the coins has a wide margin for interpretation. The I Ching doesn’t tell you what’s going to happen, it offers material that can show you how you feel about what’s happening at the moment when you throw the coins. This physical act has in it your state of mind at that moment and evokes the book’s response.

Still naked, Lola sits up with Max’s arm around her. ‘There were sixes in the beginning and in second place,’ she says. ‘That’s two old yins changing Hexagram 23 to Hexagram 41.’

Max reaches for the book. ‘“ Sun/Decrease, ”’ he reads: ‘“ above , KEN-KEEPING STILL, MOUNTAIN; below , TUI — THE JOYOUS, LAKE.”’

‘Ah!’ says Lola, THE JUDGMENT:

‘Decrease combined with sincerity

Brings about supreme good fortune

Without blame.

One may be persevering in this.

It furthers one to undertake something.

How is this to be carried out?

One may use two small bowls for the sacrifice.’

‘Our luck is changing for the better,’ says Max.

‘I like the text,’ says Lola:

‘Decrease does not under all circumstances mean something

bad. Increase and decrease come in their own time.

What matters here is to understand the time and not to

try to cover up poverty with empty pretense.’

‘And so on. Good, eh?’

‘I promise to stop covering up my poverty,’ says Max, feeling irrationally that this line in the text might be a comment on the size of his member.

‘You know that’s not what it means,’ says Lola, following his gaze. ‘Here’s THE IMAGE’:

‘At the foot of the mountain, the lake:

The image of DECREASE.

Thus the superior man controls his anger

And restrains his instincts.’

She reads on:

‘The mountain stands as the symbol of a stubborn strength

that can harden into anger. The lake is the symbol of

unchecked gaiety that can develop into passionate drives

at the expense of the life forces. Therefore decrease is

necessary; anger must be decreased by keeping still, the

instincts must be curbed by restriction. By this decrease

of the lower powers of the psyche, the higher aspects of

the soul are enriched.’

‘I wish my soul had better higher aspects,’ says Max.