On the Origins of “Not The Marrying Kind”
I thought I’d tell the story of how I ended up choosing some of the stories for Upon the Midnight Queer, and a discussion I had recently at Can*Con about how “said is invisible” (common writing advice) reminded me of this story, and how “Not The Marrying Kind” happened.
So, one thing about doing holiday retellings for the last decade is how it sent me on a hunt for public domain and classic holiday stories, and one of those stories I encountered was “The Romance of a Christmas Card,” by Kate Douglas Wiggin. I found it on audiobook, which meant I could listen to it while I walked the dog, and so I nabbed my copy and leashed up Max, and off I went.
Now, first off, I should note the original is sweet, but it’s also relentlessly religious and has this—shall we call it “specific”?—notion of what happiness for everyone will look like.
*cough-heteronormative-mother-father-babies-cough*
Anyway, I was listening to it as an audiobook while walking my dog, and this book, which is of its time, 1916. And then…
Actually, no wait. Context first. In “The Romance of a Christmas Card” there are two wayward sons from two different families (one’s the pastor’s son, even). They both basically did a youthful shirking of all family responsibilities and left in a huff. In the story, they both encounter Christmas Cards idealizing their home town, which brings them back to said small hometown where they basically realize they made mistakes and decide to make it all right (and of course forgive everyone and are forgiven by everyone) but both men end up taking the same train home and when they see each other…
Okay please understand I’m an adult. Truly. I have, like, house keys and I pay taxes.
But the actual lines in the book are that David (one of the two men) spots Dick (the other) and, well, then he stretched out a hand and ejaculated in the same breath: ‘Dick Larrabee, upon my word!’
Reader, I lost it.
Like, nearly dropped my dog’s leash, made everyone stare, had to stop and just guffaw. Of course I was in front of the school as I heard this part, and of course someone else I “know” because they also walk the dog a lot was nearby and was all, “What’s so funny?” and I was not capable of explaining. I just said I was listening to something, and moved on.
Anyway. That, uh, turn of phrase cemented “The Romance of a Christmas Card” as the story I’d be retelling as a queer romance that year. Only in my version, David was going to get Dick.
(Ahem. Sorry-not-sorry.)
That novella-length piece, “Not the Marrying Kind,” is included in Upon the Midnight Queer.
And now you know why. (Again, sorry-not-sorry.)
