Nate Briggs's Blog - Posts Tagged "plot"
Sunday Literary Life: April 30
Between one thing and another, it’s been a couple of weeks away. My apologies.
Most of my life has been spent in landscapes where water has been an urgent concern. Austere settings that not only agreed with the austere declarations of Full Bible theology — but which echoed the reported austerity of the Holy Land itself. The harsh roads that Jesus traveled as he offered his teachings to strangers he met along the way.
When something is scarce you tend to remember it. So water has marked out unique, significant places in my life. Understandable that bodies of water would start introducing themselves into different narratives — whether I’ve gone to the trouble of inviting them or not.
Out on the Plains, water is generally visible from a distance. One of my favorite fictional characters, Rebecca Weatherhead, remarks on one of her first impressions of the so-called Bible Belt:
“Trees (mostly cottonwoods) in that landscape follow the watercourses. But a group of tress to the right, or the left, of the road ahead almost always marks a town….”
Where I come from, trees mean a river. Trees mean a town. But trees can also mean a lake: usually man-made. Water backing up behind a dam. WPA possibly. Or CCC. Lakes established under Eisenhower, or Roosevelt: generally surrounded by trees — creating the kind of screen that Jonah finds convenient when he’s trying to think of a hidden place where he and Alfie can meet after their first sexual encounter in the Sunday School classroom at church.
Alfie wants to make sure that she's going to bear a child. She has to have a baby for her plan to make any sense. So: she needs another session. But, in a small town, amateur detectives are everywhere — not the least bit shy about starting rumors that then spread at the speed of light.
People who are doing what Jonah and Alfie are doing have to find a place to hide and there — not far from town — in a natural chalice of earth, is tiny Lake Lucy: almost abandoned by everyone because silt has brought the water level up to the point where power boating is more trouble than it’s worth. People with boats to show and water skiers to pull have migrated over to much larger, and deeper Lake Elsinore.
As I wrote along with this narrative, Lake Lucy pushed its way in to become almost a character. A hidden place: analogous to hidden emotions. A secret world resting in local geography: echoing the secret world of sexual intimacy. And — with its lavish setting of foliage and well-watered Nature — an echo of Eden itself for lovers steeped in the Bible, and the origin story of Adam and Eve.
When Jonah comes back to this place, after completing all the elements of his education at University, he’s overwhelmed at first:
“Jonah took her outstretched hand and they walked out on a deck that presented Lake Lucy as attractively as he’d ever seen any natural body of water: the small basin created by the irrigation dam filled to the brim with spring rain, all the trees around the perimeter of the lake in full leaf, a light wind brushing ripples across the water….”
He’s seeing an oasis. Not only of water. But of emotion. If a quiet pool of water is not restful and re-assuring, then I’m not sure why we go to the trouble of creating so many of them. We generally anticipate good things when we arrive at water out of the beige world of dust, dead grass, and dry earth. We anticipate relief. Freedom from care. And maybe some good news.
For Jonah, Lake Lucy is the place where life-changing things happen. Good and bad. A place where everything begins for him, you could say. So: only natural that the little island in the little lake would be both the end of the narrative — and the beginning of another one.
Most of my life has been spent in landscapes where water has been an urgent concern. Austere settings that not only agreed with the austere declarations of Full Bible theology — but which echoed the reported austerity of the Holy Land itself. The harsh roads that Jesus traveled as he offered his teachings to strangers he met along the way.
When something is scarce you tend to remember it. So water has marked out unique, significant places in my life. Understandable that bodies of water would start introducing themselves into different narratives — whether I’ve gone to the trouble of inviting them or not.
Out on the Plains, water is generally visible from a distance. One of my favorite fictional characters, Rebecca Weatherhead, remarks on one of her first impressions of the so-called Bible Belt:
“Trees (mostly cottonwoods) in that landscape follow the watercourses. But a group of tress to the right, or the left, of the road ahead almost always marks a town….”
Where I come from, trees mean a river. Trees mean a town. But trees can also mean a lake: usually man-made. Water backing up behind a dam. WPA possibly. Or CCC. Lakes established under Eisenhower, or Roosevelt: generally surrounded by trees — creating the kind of screen that Jonah finds convenient when he’s trying to think of a hidden place where he and Alfie can meet after their first sexual encounter in the Sunday School classroom at church.
Alfie wants to make sure that she's going to bear a child. She has to have a baby for her plan to make any sense. So: she needs another session. But, in a small town, amateur detectives are everywhere — not the least bit shy about starting rumors that then spread at the speed of light.
People who are doing what Jonah and Alfie are doing have to find a place to hide and there — not far from town — in a natural chalice of earth, is tiny Lake Lucy: almost abandoned by everyone because silt has brought the water level up to the point where power boating is more trouble than it’s worth. People with boats to show and water skiers to pull have migrated over to much larger, and deeper Lake Elsinore.
As I wrote along with this narrative, Lake Lucy pushed its way in to become almost a character. A hidden place: analogous to hidden emotions. A secret world resting in local geography: echoing the secret world of sexual intimacy. And — with its lavish setting of foliage and well-watered Nature — an echo of Eden itself for lovers steeped in the Bible, and the origin story of Adam and Eve.
When Jonah comes back to this place, after completing all the elements of his education at University, he’s overwhelmed at first:
“Jonah took her outstretched hand and they walked out on a deck that presented Lake Lucy as attractively as he’d ever seen any natural body of water: the small basin created by the irrigation dam filled to the brim with spring rain, all the trees around the perimeter of the lake in full leaf, a light wind brushing ripples across the water….”
He’s seeing an oasis. Not only of water. But of emotion. If a quiet pool of water is not restful and re-assuring, then I’m not sure why we go to the trouble of creating so many of them. We generally anticipate good things when we arrive at water out of the beige world of dust, dead grass, and dry earth. We anticipate relief. Freedom from care. And maybe some good news.
For Jonah, Lake Lucy is the place where life-changing things happen. Good and bad. A place where everything begins for him, you could say. So: only natural that the little island in the little lake would be both the end of the narrative — and the beginning of another one.
