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208 pages, Paperback
Published September 5, 2023
Ultimately I knew I had been asking Isabelle for what she could not do: offer me insight not about myself but about life, the immense and heartbreaking noise of it, trying to turn that noise into something closer to song. I wasn’t religious. And philosophers—they were all men from hundreds of years ago. I wanted a woman to tell me what all this was, a woman in her forties or older, lusty and angry and newly unafraid. Out of the great hollow chest of complacency, a wild and panicked heart was trying to beat free, escape, end up where it didn’t belong—vulnerable and damaged and yet certain that suffering had worth.Stasi is a dichotomy. She has a heightened sense of fairness, yet she feels no guilt about cheating on her husband, as she’s been doing for years. She loves her husband, and especially her daughter, very dearly, yet she feels disconnected from them both.🤦♀️🙄
“She didn’t have any kind of life.” “Yeah, but—I mean—I don’t think she was actually unhappy.” He was trying to get me to hear it. “I don’t think she wanted a kind of life like other people do. I think she was happy where she was—safe. At home.” I understood what he was trying to say. “So her death—so her life and death—is less sad, then?” “I don’t know,” he said. “Sad is another judgement I guess. I just mean—I don’t think she was unhappy. I never thought of her like that. Some people have normal lives and they are unhappy anyway. I don’t think she was.” “Yeah, I don’t know. I always thought the whole thing was fucking depressing.” “Because you had to deal with it. You were grown up at ten.” The acknowledgement, coming from him, caught me dead centre. Like blame and forgiveness arriving at once—heavy and breathless. It was heavier than ten sessions in therapy. “Sometimes I don’t remember a childhood at all.”And so it goes—as it goes in many families, including my own…
Trumpets were used in war, bugles too. I remembered the clarion, the highest register, a piercing call, nothing above it. A single high note. And the clarion call - bringing all together into one, a uniting, a mass belonging, all of us the same.
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It was cold outside and the green metal of the dumpsters had been decaying for years; behind it a small lot with rough looking cars, lined by a chain-link fence on its slow way down. The backs of restaurants are some of the realest places on earth - just a door or two from your beautiful meal.
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"Do you know where the saying 'clarion call' comes from?" he asked.
"Yes, it's a trumpet, right?"
"Yeah - the idea of a call that would bring people together, from afar. Unite them in something, a purpose. I don't feel as if we have that anymore."
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As I left, I heard a soft sound from my phone on the coffee table. I closed the door and pulled the bolt through the lock. I liked leaving my phone sometimes - unnerving at first, but fleeting, then a kind of clean emptiness.
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If you want to think about how well you know someone, answer that question then - what do they want? and if you have an interesting answer, one that is true, you probably know that person very well.