The Book of Goose

by Yiyun Li

M. Devaux was a reader of poetry and philosophy. He told us he had written some unsuccessful plays that had never seen the stage, and he still composed a poem a day, after he came back from the post office. Fabienne asked if we could read his poems, but he said we should be spared, as he read his poems aloud only to his pigeons.

Pascal, in fact, is the perfect name for one of my geese, who is less frivolous than his other three companions. Even as a gosling, Pascal walked with a gravitas. He follows the other geese when they get into mischief, but you can see that his heart is not quite in it. He charges at the postman and terrifies the chickens only because he has to fulfill a goose’s fate. He is, I believe, a philosopher.)

“Does that also mean we shouldn’t give each other what we want?” She made a gesture as though she were about to box my ear. “You’re an absolute imbecile. Of course we’re different. You and I are like…” “Twins?” I said when she did not finish her sentence. “One person?” “No. You and I are like day and night.” “What do you mean?” “Is there an hour that is neither day nor night?” she said. “No. So you see, you and I together, we cover all the time, we have everything between us.”