William Gaddis - The Recognitions

— A brilliant man?

— He's got the best education money can buy, I'll tell you that.

— If we are priests, conspiring against you, do not be surprised.

— I… God damn it, I told you not to laugh that way.

— What is laughter?

— It makes me nervous.

— You don't think about me when I'm not here. Well, should I be surprised at that?

— Where are you going now?

— To be with my wife. Sheer enterprise, as you will understand. I wonder, when I step out of doors, how the past can tolerate us.

Recktall Brown came round the chairs, and their paths converged. He raised his arm, and it came to rest. — I can feel your bones right through your shoulder. Don't you eat anything?

— Your reassurance strengthens me, for I have sensed I felt them there myself. But no one has confirmed me in some time. Would it have been beyond temptation then, to take a knife and dig for them, and prove they're there?

— Christ, my boy, you've got to get hold of yourself.

— Small choice, then, to take what others leave.

— You feel better now, do you? Take a rest. After this Herbert picture, take a rest. And just forget these crazy things you've said. Hell, you can paint this picture and you know it. And as for what you said about. . well hell, we'll just forget the other things but don't forget, just keep away from Valentine.

— You are so damned familiar, Brown.

— Why Jesus Christ, my boy, I've known you quite awhile now. I want to watch out for you. And keep away from him, do you hear?

— So damned familiar.

— I'd trade him for you any day. Now take care of yourself. You'll feel better when you get yourself back to work.

In the hall doorway, the weight of the arm remains extended for another moment, and the cumbrous diamonds, hanging beside the rough cheek. Behind, the dog lay licking her belly. Beside hung the portrait, udder-like hands to the front. The weight of the arm and the diamonds, the milkless mamma, malfeasant, even at pen-dulant rest, that and the sound of the dog, licking, licking, in pestilential heat, as inertly oppressive as the hand, shaded in insensible intimacy to suffocation; and had Recktall Brown not, just then, patted the shoulder which he released, saying, — Get hold of yourself and finish up this last one, my boy, and then take a rest. You just need a rest. . the shadow which united them, after an instant's complication, might have been simplified by one-third.

— Hi, gang! Your friend Lazarus the Laughing Leper brings you radio's newest kiddies' program, The Lives of the Saints, sponsored by Necrostyle. Before we hear from your friend Lazarus, just let me ask you a question. Does Mummy have trouble sleeping? If she does, and ha ha what Mummy doesn't, ask her if she knows about Necrostyle, the wafer-shaped sleeping pill. Remember the story Laughing Lazarus told you last week, kids? About the saint who didn't sleep for the last eight years of her life? That's right. Agatha of the Cross. But Mummy's not a saint, is she. Mummy needs her sleep. Tell her about Necrostyle, if she doesn't already know. Don't forget, kids, Necrostyle, the wafer-shaped sleeping pill. No chewing, no aftertaste. .

— Ellery, Esther interrupted.

— Just a second. Ellery sat forward with a newspaper rolled in his hand, his head down, listening to the radio. — This is a new account.

your friend Laughing Lazarus will be here in just a minute, but listen kids. Here's one real confidential question I want to ask you first, just between us. Do you have enough brothers and sisters? I know, you love big brother or little fancy, don't you. But too many can spoil your chances. Look at it this way. When you have pie for dessert, how many ways does it have to be divided up? Do you get your share? If you have enough brothers and sisters, or even if you don't have any and don't want any, tell Mummy about Cuff. Cuff, the new wonder preventative. Cuff is guaranteed not to damage internal tissues or have lasting effects. But you don't have to remember all those long words, just tell Mummy to ask about Cuff next time she visits her friendly neighborhood druggist. Remember, Cuff. It's on the Cuff.

— I feel ill, Esther said.

— Listen.

— and Zap. But I'll be back to tell you more about Zap later on. Now, here's your friend Laughing Lazarus, ha ha, who's going to tell us about what happened to Blessed Dodo of Hascha, when he…

— Can you turn it off now? Esther asked, resting her head back, her eyes closed.

— Rose wants to hear it. I'll just turn it down, Ellery said. He walked over to the radio with the laborious movements of a football player demonstrating that simply the act of being physical is one of high achievement. Ellery was lithely, easily built. He handled himself and everything round him with an air of clumsy familiarity. When he walked it was with an air of patient indifference to where he was going, though he never arrived anywhere else. Clothes looked well on him: he was what tailors with a sporting bent had in mind when they designed loose-fitting jackets and pleatless narrow-legged trousers. Cigarettes smoked from between his fingers lifelessly, forgotten, leaving him unresponsible for the ashes which dropped to the rug when they grew heavy enough. Smoking, he blew rings heavy with disdain which seemed to jar wherever they hit. He looked at things and at faces with patient boredom, and he shrugged his shoulders. Sometimes he winked, as he did now at Rose who sat on the floor, cowered against the loud-speaker of the radio. Ellery turned the volume down. Rose stared at him.

So did Esther. — Sometimes… I hear those things and I just can't believe them, she said.

— It's a big account, Necrostyle Products. That's the way to get at them, through the kids.

— But it… how can it be so vulgar? She breathed that last word heavily. She had opened her bloodshot eyes to stare at the ceiling.

— Vulgar? That's what people like. That's what vulgar means, people.

— Ellery, but I don't see why… I don't see why. .

— You told me that yourself. They didn't teach Latin at Yale.

She lowered her eyes to look at him. In her lap, Esther held the kitten too close, threatening the strain of life in it with her attention.

— Not that I ever knew of, anyhow. He shrugged his shoulders. — How many people have you got coming to your party?

— Twenty or so, she said wearily.

— It's a hell of a time for a party. For you to give a party.

— I know it is, do you think I feel like it?

— Why don't you just call it off, then? Because you've already invited this great poet you've always wanted to meet. I know why, too, honey. But believe me, it won't help your writing any.

— I wish. . She was staring at her typewriter and its silent litter.

— Isn't one enough?

— I wish you wouldn't talk this way now, please. We've got to find a doctor, Ellery, quickly.

— There's a call I have to make, he said, and went into the bedroom where the telephone was with the newspaper rolled in his hand. His voice broke above the radio. — Just a second, operator. It's 'the Hospital of the Immaculate some damn thing, hang on a minute. . He opened the newspaper on the bed.

Rose turned from Blessed Dodo of Hascha. — Someone is at the door, she said to her sister. — Blessed Dodo, Blessed Didée, Blessed Bartolo of San Gimignano…

— Rose!

— Or even Doctor Biggs of Lima Peru.

— You. .? Embracing his weariness in her own voice, Esther opens.

— Don't disturb, don't disturb. Only to find some things I left here, for safekeeping, they say. I enter sparingly. — And Rose? says Rose. — Rose.