Stephen Dixon - Gould

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Gould: краткое содержание, описание и аннотация

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Gould Bookbinder, the protagonist of Stephen Dixon's novel, Gould: A Novel in Two Novels is not a nice man. When we first meet him, he is an opportunistic college freshman in the process of seducing a girl whom he later impregnates. This is just the first of several pregnancies for which Gould accepts no responsibility. He grows older in the first part of the novel-aptly titled "Abortions"-but wisdom is slow to catch up. Not until near the end of the first section, when Gould is in his 40s, does his attitude change. Then he finds himself trying (unsuccessfully) to convince a pregnant girlfriend to have the child. The second part of Gould, entitled "Evangeline," is a flashback to the long affair between Gould and Evangeline-a relationship that lasts as long as it does mainly because of Gould's affection for Evangeline's son.
With no paragraphs, no page breaks, and precious little attribution of dialogue, Gould is not an easy book to read. The eye tires of words running unrelieved by white space across the page, and Dixon's idiosyncratic prose style can be irritating. Despite it all, Gould is ultimately a remarkable and rewarding read as Stephen Dixon transforms his creepy antihero into someone who, while perhaps not likeable, is at least sympathetic.

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Soon after she awakes she says “Goodness, I just remembered, I have a lunch date with an old girlfriend. Do you want to join us or do you think I can leave Brons with you here?” and he says “What do you prefer? It seems like you want to go alone, which is understandable,” and she says “No difference. You certainly won’t embarrass me and I feel confident, short a time as I know you, that you won’t jump the first gorgeous friend I introduce you to, and even if you did — well, that’d save me a whole lot of aggravation later on,” and he says “Actually, my shoulder hurts, from last night, I think, so I’d like to stay put today,” and she says “Then I can leave Brons with you? You won’t doze off and let him run into the street?” and she tells him what Brons might like for lunch, “though he can be a fussy eater and there’s no guarantee he’ll open his mouth,” that he still takes naps once or twice a week, “so if you’re lucky, this may be the day,” gives him books to read to Brons if he gets too wild or bored, “or really anytime, he loves them,” and goes and he asks Brons what he wants to do while his mother’s gone, “play alone awhile, maybe?” and Brons says “Play,” and he says “But alone, by yourself, here, in your room, what? Because if you do then I have things to do myself,” and Brons says “Play,” and he says “Okay, I know, but where, I’m saying, and with whom? Yourself, alone, with me, here or some other place, outside or in? You have to understand, Brons, I’m not familiar . I don’t know how to take care of kids I haven’t done it before, though you’ll be safe with me, that you also have to understand, but I really don’t even know how to talk to them kids, I mean, little boys and girls like you. So once again, what do you want to do? Because if you just want to stay in your room alone, or here, and play by yourself awhile—” and Brons goes into his room and Gould says “Okay, fine, but I’ll be here, and if you need any help in the bathroom, call me,” and gets his typewriter out and Brons comes back with a box of blocks and empties it at Gould’s feet and they start building things, later draw with crayons, dress several stuffed animals, go outside and he pushes Brons around in the bed of his big dump truck, puts him into his high chair and the food in front of him on the chair tray and Brons stares at it and he says “Want me to feed you? Your mom said you might and she even instructed me how. Showed me how to do it. With a spoon, only a spoon, you’re too young yet for a serrated knife and pronged fork. Well, all forks have prongs — that’s the pointy part — and I’m only kidding . . just the spoon, and a special one, I see, with Daisy Duck on the handle. Where’d you get it? Because you look like a Donald fan, but that’s sexist . . you know what that means. Nice applesauce, so open, open wide. Do I sound like a dentist about to extract a tooth rather than a surrogate mother wanting to shove food in?” and Brons laughs and Gould says “For my own information, because maybe it’s something I can use with you later on, but what was it particularly that made you laugh?” and Brons just looks at him deadpan and he says “Why did you laugh? — you know, ha-ha, ha-ha,” and makes a face as if he’s laughing and Brons laughs and he says “But why, before?” and Brons says something that sounds like “I dunno,” and sticks his spoon into the bowl and bringing it to his mouth half the applesauce on it goes to the floor and Gould takes the spoon and feeds him the applesauce and a mashed-up hard-boiled egg mixed with mayonnaise and later he says “So, that was easy; my motto should be ‘Yuck it up, feed the pup,’ right? no?” and Brons starts raising the chair tray and Gould helps him out and down and they walk to the market a few blocks away, get pastries and bread and lettuce for tonight and a juice for Brons now and after Brons drinks it Gould says “Listen, first thing before we head home, and maybe I shouldn’t have given you that juice till we got there, but do you have to make caca or pee pee or whatever you call them? Because I remember seeing a boys’ room in the market,” and Brons points to his pants and says “Wet,” and he says “Oh great okay, but we’ll deal with that later . I guess you’ll just take your underpants off and put on another pair of whatever you wear. Why didn’t your mother warn me about this, or why didn’t I ask her?” and Brons says something again that sounds like “I dunno,” and then something accompanied by motions that seems to mean he can’t walk home, too tired, and Gould says “I’m afraid you have to. I’ve a bad shoulder — this part — and it hurts like the dickens, very bad, very bad. I think I broke it. Break, like you break a stick — smack!” and demonstrates with his fists, “and I can’t carry you, okay?” and Brons looks as if he’s about to cry and he says “You really can’t walk home?” and Brons says no and he gets on one knee and moves him onto his good shoulder sidesaddle and carefully stands so as to put all the pressure on that shoulder and carries him this way, every half block or so getting on the same knee and letting Brons off and saying “Can you walk now? All rested?” and Brons saying no and looking as if he’s about to cry, so Gould continuing to carry him. At home Brons says “Ead,” and he says “Eat?” and Brons shakes his head and says “Ead, ead,” and he says “What?” and Brons takes his hand and leads him to the pile of books Evangeline left and Gould says “Oh, so which one do you want me to? wait, your pants, you said you were wet,” and Brons says “No I am,” and he says “Excuse me, but do you mind?” and sticks his hand down the back of Brons’s shorts — cloth diapers — doesn’t want to put his hand inside but the outside of them feel dry and he says “You think you should go to the potty now?” and Brons shakes his head and he says “You know, to pee pee, or even caca; just so you don’t do it in your pants,” and Brons says “Ead,” and they sit on the couch and he reads to him and explains each illustration and during it Brons gets on his lap and then holds Gould’s hand and he thinks it’s such a small hand, those fingernails, it’s like a little dog’s paw and puts it against his and says “See how much bigger mine is? I’m not boasting, but some day—” and Brons says “Ead, ead,” and he finishes the book and starts another and Brons almost falls off his lap reaching for the first book and puts it in front of Gould and says “Again.” Evangeline comes home while he’s still reading and he says “This kid’s such a sweetheart, I can’t tell you, he couldn’t have been better,” and she says “I’m glad you two got along,” and he says “More than that and I’m not saying it to impress you. Ask him. Just one thing though; he didn’t urinate once since you left. Not in his,” and points behind Brons to his shorts, “or in the WC, though I didn’t walk him there. I hate to be a worrywart but I was wondering if it could be some kind of urological problem,” and she says “It’s okay, I like it that you’re worrying. But he’s probably done it by now, or if you felt in his pants you just didn’t dig deep enough. I’ll change him,” and when she comes back he says “Truly, I never knew a kid that age could be so charming,” and she says “A lot can, some are even more advanced than that, but I’m glad it’s him,” and he’s not sure what she means but doesn’t ask her to explain: she might think him dense.

She liked taking baths with him—“Gould, I’m in the tub, want to join me?” or “Want to take a bath together?” and he said “I already showered today,” and she said “So take it just to relax”—sitting on him with her back to his chest and his penis floating or sticking up between her legs. “So this is what I’d look like with one,” she said the first time. “But I’d like mine clean, I never see you really wash your cock — go on, show me how you do it,” and he said “Come on, what am I, Brons? I’m the cleanest guy around, often to the point of manic-compulsiveness,” and she said “Your hands, yes, but I’m serious about this: I want to know how clean something is that goes so deep inside me,” and he washed it with his hands and then splashed the soap off and she said “That’s washing it? You didn’t scrub; you missed several parts. What about all those folds there and the hole? You don’t open it to wash inside?” and he said “That’d burn; what I did was enough. I’ve been doing it like that most of my penis’s adult life and never had a rash or sore or anything like that on it and no smell or smegma ever,” and she said “Will you permit me?” and grabbed it and he thought she was going to play with it and he lay back and rested his head on the top of the tub and shut his eyes and she washed it hard with a soapy washrag—“Hey, take it easy!”—seemed to get at almost every part but the eye, and then she said “What about the balls?” and he said “Leave them alone,” and she said “Do you ever wash them? Because silky and clean as they might feel, they’re just as liable to be dirty. And though they don’t go in me they do often sleep against me or at least roll around on the sheet and there’s hair on them and hair collects germs like nothing does,” and he said “I do wash them, but in my own way: very gently. I know just the places where if I washed them even a little less than very gently, it’d hurt like mad. So never touch them, or if you do, then very lightly, but never the balls parts — only the top of the scrotum without the balls, okay? No, best you never touch them at all; a woman could never know how sensitive they are,” and just with her hand this time she washed his penis but the way she was doing it with the soap it seemed more to get him hard and then tried putting it in her but it didn’t work and the two or three other times they tried doing it in the tub like this it didn’t work and she said one of those times “I wonder why men can’t keep it stiff in water,” and he said “What about women, not that I’ve truthfully ever tried doing it in a tub with anyone else, but are you so slick and open inside?” and she said “I think so,” and raised her rear above the water and he felt her and she was. “Well then I’m sorry, it must be the warm water,” and she said “Cold would make it worse even,” and he said “Then maybe we should try something in-between,” and they let the cold water run till the tub was lukewarm and then tried doing it and it still didn’t work and then let the water get cool and it didn’t work and he said “I’m sure there are some men who can do it in any temperature or some who are better at hot than cool and so on, but I’m just not one.”

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