John Irving - Last Night In Twisted River

“Why don’t you just ask Danny if the crazy aunt popped his cherry?” Ketchum had inquired of the cook. That was a vulgar Coos County expression, and the cook hated it. (If he’d paid closer attention to the conversations around him in Boston, the cook might have realized that “cherry-popping” was a vulgar North End expression, too.)

There was one part of The Spinster; or, The Maiden Aunt that both Tony Angel and Ketchum had loved: the wedding at the end. The boy has grown up and he’s marrying his college sweetheart-an indifferent bride, if you ever met one, and closer to a real-life Katie character than Caitlin in The Kennedy Fathers ever was. Also, Danny had nailed those ice-cube-sucking Callahan men dead between their eyes-those tight-assed patrician Republicans who, Danny believed, had made Katie the anarchist rule-breaker she was. She was a trust-fund kid who’d reinvented herself as a radical, but she’d been a faux revolutionary. Katie’s only revolution had been a small, sexual one.

THERE WAS ONE BOOK Danny Angel had written that was not on the kitchen bookshelf in Avellino. That was his sixth novel, which had not yet been published. But the cook had almost finished reading it. A copy of the galleys was upstairs in Tony Angel’s bedroom. Ketchum also had a copy. Both men felt ambivalent about the novel, and neither was in any hurry to finish it.

East of Bangor was set in an orphanage in Maine in the 1960s-when abortion was still illegal. Virtually the same damn boy from those earlier Danny Angel novels-a boy from Boston who ends up going away to boarding school-gets two of his North End cousins pregnant, one when he’s still a student at Exeter (before he’s learned to drive) and the second after he’s gone off to college. He goes to the University of New Hampshire, naturally.

There’s an old midwife in the Maine orphanage who performs abortions-a deeply sympathetic woman who struck the cook as being modeled on the unlikely fusion of sweet, gentle Paul Polcari (“the fucking pacifist !” as Ketchum insisted on calling him) and Injun Jane.

The first cousin who goes off to Maine has the baby and leaves it behind; she is so devastated by having a child and not knowing what has become of it that she tells the other pregnant cousin not to do what she did. The second pregnant cousin also goes to Maine -to the very same orphanage, but to have an abortion. The problem is that the old midwife might not live long enough to perform the procedure. If the young midwife-in-training ends up doing the D & C, the cousin might suffer the consequences. The young midwife doesn’t know enough about what she’s doing.

Both Ketchum and the cook were hoping that the novel was going to turn out well, and that nothing too bad would happen to the second pregnant cousin. But, knowing Danny Angel’s novels, the two old readers had their fears-and something else was worrying them.

Over a year ago, Joe had gotten a girl in trouble at Northfield Mount Hermon. Because his father was famous-for a writer, Danny Angel was very recognizable-and because Joe already knew something about the subject of the novel his dad was writing, the boy hadn’t asked for his father’s help. Those anti-abortion people picketed most clinics or doctors’ offices where you could get an abortion; Joe didn’t want his dad taking him and the unfortunate girl to one of those places where the protesters were. What if some so-called right-to-lifer recognized his famous father?

“Smart boy,” Ketchum said to Joe, when Danny’s son had written him. Young Joe hadn’t wanted to tell his grandfather, either, but Ketchum insisted that the cook come along with them.

They’d driven to an abortion clinic in Vermont together. Ketchum and the cook sat up front, in the cook’s car; Joe and the sad, frightened girl were in the backseat. It had been an awkward situation because the couple were no longer boyfriend and girlfriend. They’d broken up almost a month before the girl discovered she was pregnant, but they both knew Joe was the baby’s father; they were doing the right thing (in the cook and Ketchum’s opinion), but it was difficult for them.

Ketchum tried to console them, but-Ketchum being Ketchum-it came out a little clumsily. The logger said more than he meant to. “There’s one thing to be happy about,” he told the miserable-looking couple in the backseat. “When the same thing happened to your dad and a girl he knew, Joe, abortion wasn’t legal-and it wasn’t necessarily safe.”

Had the old woodsman forgotten the cook was in the car?

“So that’s why you took Danny and that DiMattia girl to Maine !” Tony Angel cried. “I always thought so! You said you wanted to show them the Kennebec -’the last great river-driving river,’ you called it, or some such bullshit. But that DiMattia girl was so dumb-she told Carmella you’d driven her and Danny somewhere east of Bangor . I knew Bangor was nowhere near the Kennebec!”

Ketchum and the cook had argued the whole way to the abortion clinic, where there’d been picketers; Joe had been right not to involve his famous father with the protesters. And all the way home-the ex-girlfriend and Joe were spending the weekend in Brattleboro with the boy’s grandfather-Joe had held the girl in the backseat, where she sobbed and sobbed. She couldn’t have been older than sixteen-seventeen, tops. “You’re going to be all right,” Joe, who was not yet seventeen, kept saying to the poor kid. Ketchum and the cook hoped so.

And now the two older men had stopped themselves in the last chapter of East of Bangor - Danny Angel’s abortion novel, as it would be called. The cook could see that there was something of Ketchum in the character who drove the boy (and his first pregnant cousin) to Maine. By the description, the friendly older man also reminded the cook of Tony Molinari; Danny Angel calls him the principal chef in the North End restaurant where the two pregnant cousins work as waitresses. It’s the way the man handles the truck they drive to Maine in-that was what led Tony Angel to see the so-called chef as “the Ketchum character.” The Molinari likeness was a disguise Danny gave to the character, because of course the writer didn’t know, when he was finishing the final draft of his abortion novel, that Ketchum had already told his dad about Danny getting the DiMattia girl pregnant-and how the logger drove the two of them to an orphanage somewhere east of Bangor, Maine.

The book was dedicated to those two chefs Danny Angel and his dad both loved, Tony Molinari and Paul Polcari-“ Un abbràccio for Tony M. and Paul P.,” the author had written, allowing the two men some measure of privacy. (“An embrace” for them from the former busboy/waiter/substitute pizza and sous chef in Vicino di Napoli.) Both those chefs, the cook knew, were retired; Vicino di Napoli was gone, and another restaurant with another name had taken its place in North Square.

Tony Angel still drove periodically to the North End to do a little shopping. He would meet Molinari and Paul at the Caffè Vittoria for some espresso. They always assured him that Carmella was doing well; she seemed reasonably content with another fella. It came as no surprise to the cook that Carmella would end up with someone; she was both beautiful and lovable.

East of Bangor might be a difficult novel for young Joe to read, whenever he got around to it; Joe had no time to read his father’s novels when he was at Northfield Mount Hermon. To the cook’s knowledge, his grandson had read only one of his dad’s books: The Kennedy Fathers , of course-if only in the hope he would learn a little about what his mother had been like. (Given Ketchum’s opinion of the Katie character, what young Joe would learn about his mother from that novel “wasn’t worth a pinch of coon shit”-according to the logger.)