John Barth - Where Three Roads Meet

Now I'm in for it, one imagines Phil Blank supposing as he sits there conjuring scenarios of interrogation by the state Highway Patrol: questions to which he can no more anticipate his response, if any, than he could say just who the "I" is who's "in for it": the creature named by the name on his Commonwealth of Pennsylvania driver's license and the Toyota's registration card, who already now needs to pee, but can't decide whether to exit his car and discreetly wet the ground on its passenger side or simply to stay put and, sooner or later, wet himself. In short, to do nothing — not unlock the car doors or lower its driver-side window or speak or even turn his head when the patrol person or whoever eventually appears. To take no action beyond Taking No Action, and let whatever might happen, happen.

PART THREE: THE THIRD PERSON

Fred "I've Been Told" Story: Question, please?

" Self-Appointed Sidekick" Izzy-the-Teller: Yes?

F. "I.B.T."S.: So what happened next?

" S.-A.S.K."I.-t.-T.: Next? Nothing.

Fred: Whatcha mean, nothing? Something has to happen next! Something always happens next!

Izzy: Nope.

Hitherto Unmentioned Female Third Person [speaking from rear seat of Herocycle: a mid-fortyish, probably once-slender woman, she, bespectacled and bright-serious of expression, clothed in gray sweatshirt, blue jeans, and once-white walking shoes, straight black hair cut short in helmet style]: May I clarify? In Real Life, as it's called, something always happens next: the unlikely pants-wetting, the Highway Patrol car, the sister alarmed that her brother's gone missing, various embarrassing and troublesome consequences for poor-fuck Phil — whatever. In Fiction, on the other hand, that's not the case: Phil's story ends when it's finished, and its ending isn't necessarily conterminous in either direction with his imaginable lifespan.

I.: You got that right, ma'am: Next page would be blank, if there were one. Which there isn't.

F.: Much obliged for the fill-in. And who might you be, by the way?

H. U.F.T.P.: Third wheel on this Mythmobile, maybe? Go figure. Question for Teller?

I.: Be my guest — though I've a hunch it's we who're yours.

T.P. [waving off that consideration and tapping sheaf of manuscript pages in left hand]: Two questions, come to think of it. First off, in the lead-in to " — 's Story" you declared, and I quote [finds relevant page in aforementioned sheaf]: "A story that'll serve as Fred's and mine here in Part Two of 'A Story's Story' happens to be that of——…" But I, for one, don't see the connection. Your Phil Blank was never capital-A Anybody: His life and career were just a series of halfhearted attempts to address the teasing imperative of his name, if I may so put it. Pathetic, maybe, but hardly heroic. Fred here, on the contrary — if I may call you that, sir?

E: Shrug.

T.P.: Fred's career has been an unparalleled success worldwide for going on three millennia…

F.: So I've been told.

T.P.: No culture in sight without some version of you! And your sidekick Izzy-the-Teller here's no Phil Blank either. Granted [brandishes paper-sheaf], he and/or his capital-A Author have filled blank pages by the ream with the words and sentences of made-up stories, some of which've been more successful than others, shall we say, with critics and reviewers and us Mere Readers—

I.: Why, thankee there, ma'm'selle. And welcome aboard, as always.

F. [to T.P.]: So that's who you are! Okay, I get your "third wheel" thing.

T.P. [to both]: What I don't get is how " — 's Story" is you-guys' story. That's my First Question.

F. [to Isidore]: Hey, I don't get that either, Iz, come to think of it.

I.: First Question perpended. Be it noted, by the way, that Feckless Phil there didn't decide to do nothing: His story ends with his inability to decide. You had another question, I believe you said?

T.P.: Did and do. We Mere Readers had expected that once your so-called Ground Situation was established and this so-called Dramatic Vehicle got under way, plot complications would promptly follow, in the form of capital-O Obstacles and capital-A Adversaries, you know? But simply barreling westward like this down a straight flat narrative road is mere Action; it gets us nowhere, capital-P Plotwise. I'm reminded of the distinction in classical physics between Effort and Work: We're chugging along, but nothing's getting done. So my Second Question is, What gives?

It seemed to Fred that he'd heard of those distinctions — Action versus Plot, Effort versus Work — somewhere or other a long while back. They struck him as reasonable, and having no reply to their passenger-or-host's objection, he considered pulling off the road and parking the Herocycle/Myth-mobile while the three of them discussed the matter. Maybe imperturbable Izzy had another six-pack stashed somewhere, to lubricate the discussion? Just then, however — as if their vehicle itself were given pause by Ms. Mere Reader's observation — its engine balked and quit, as had Phil Blank's Corolla's, and like that identity-challenged fellow, they coasted to a halt.

But Izzy the Teller, far from sharing Fred's concern and Reader's puzzlement, seemed merely amused. With a left-handed palm-up gesture at their situation, " Voilá, " he said to the pair of them. "Any further questions?"

"Not till I've thought through these ones," said Fred with a frown. "Seems to me we're as out of gas as poor-fart Phil there."

Beaming, Izzy nodded and voilá 'd his left hand again.

"What I suppose," then supposed Mere Reader from the seat behind them, "is that Izzy told us the Phil Blank story while we rattled westward just to fill the blank till the Next Thing happens— and to get another story told, in the same spirit as Fred's racking up the DV mileage just for the satisfaction of being on the move again."

Fred: That about says it, for me anyhow.

Izzy: Smiles knowingly while waiting for Third Person to continue.

F.: That's a line of dialogue?

I.: Why not? If Miz Fellow Traveler here can speak the words " — 's Story," as she managed to do twice or thrice a few pages back, then I reckon I can speak third-person stage directions. [To F.T.P. Mere Reader (speaking the words "To F.T.P. Mere Reader"):] You were saying?

In narrative format again, " Asking, actually," that personage replied. "Your left-handed response to my First Question, I take it, is that the Herocycle's running out of gas like Phil Blank's Corolla just as I posed my Second Question effectively answers my First, namely: In what sense does his story serve as Fred's-and-yours?"

Applauded Izzy, "A two-handed voilà encore! "

But "Now just wait a mothering minute," objected Fred. "Maybe he and we both eventually ran dry, but up till then (as has been noted) our stories are different tales for sure. Phil's fate might resemble Izzy's, in his role as my tuckered-out Teller du jour; if so, tough titty for him, and better luck next time out. But it sure as shootin's not my story. Am I right, Miz Mere?"

Declared Izzy before that entity could reply, "You're right as far as you go, chum — but as far as you go is right here. Point being that unless we fall by the wayside earlier on, right here's where we all end up: by the wayside. What's more—"

Eagerly interrupted here Mere Reader, "What's more, Fred dear, as I'm just now beginning to appreciate, our ambidextrous Izzy might be getting more work done with those left-handed voilàs of his than we've been giving him credit for."