Maisie Dobbs (Maisie Dobbs, #1)

by Jacqueline Winspear

she was the silent observer as he listened to a story, gently prodding with a question, a comment, a sigh, or a smile, “The story takes up space as a knot in a piece of wood. If the knot is removed, a hole remains. We must ask ourselves, how will this hole that we have opened be filled? The hole, Maisie, is our responsibility.”

“Never follow a story with a question, Maisie, not immediately. And remember to acknowledge the storyteller, for in some way even the messenger is affected by the story he brings.”

Maisie had learned from Maurice Blanche the importance of keeping the client open to whatever was being reported or suggested. “Sitting in a chair gives too much opportunity to retreat into the self,” Blanche had said. “Keep the person moving, in the way that an artist keeps the oil moving when he is painting. Don’t give them a chance to dry up; don’t allow the client to shut you out.”

“Allow grief room to air itself,” Maurice had taught her. “Be judicious in using the body to comfort another, for you may extinguish the freedom that the person feels to be able to share a sadness.” She had learned, with Maurice Blanche as a teacher, respect for the telling of a person’s history.

Stripping away a person’s name is a very basic manner of control. It’s done in all sorts of institutions, such as the army—for example, they called you ‘corporal,’ not ‘Billy,’ or possibly—rarely—even ‘Beale.’”

“The mind can do strange things, Billy. Just as we can become used to pain, so we can become used to experience, and in some cases a distasteful experience is made more palatable if we embrace it.”