Overview: In "The Zebra Storyteller," Spenser Holst states that the purpose of stories is to prepare us for the
unexpected. Though the storyteller thinks he is just spinning stories out of
his own imagination, in order to amuse, his stories prove to be practical.
Other storytellers make the function of fiction less
extraordinary. According to them, fiction enables readers to avoid projecting
false hopes and fears and shows them what they can actually
expect in their everyday lives, so that they can prepare themselves.
What else do you see in this symbolic piece of meta-fiction?
In "Happy Endings," Margaret Atwood (author of The Handmaid's Tale) addresses our need for closure as we read fiction. What makes for an appropriate ending to a work of fiction? What are we looking for? What should we be looking for? Atwood suggests how and why.
What does she mean by that?
Directions: Please read and study the following pieces of short fiction. Next, in this blog space, please discuss an idea from Holst and an idea from Atwood using one of the summer reading selections. Engage with each other. Use the text. Be genuine and authentic. Think about the value of words by being concise. Think about your audience. Also, revisit the blog. Read and respond to your fellow classmates. Get a dialogue going. Challenge each other. Be bold. Be brilliant.
"The Zebra Storyteller"
by Spencer Holst
Once upon a time there was a Siamese cat who pretended to be
a lion and spoke inappropriate Zebraic.
That language is whinnied by the race of striped horses in
Africa.
Here now: An innocent zebra is walking in a jungle and
approaching from another direction is the little cat; they meet.
"Hello there!" says the Siamese cat in perfectly
pronounced Zebraic. "It certainly is a pleasant day, isn't it? The sun is
shining, the birds are singing, isn't the world a lovely place to live
today!"
The zebra is so astonished at hearing a Siamese cat speaking
like a zebra, why-he's just fit to be tied.
So the little cat quickly ties him up, kills him, and drags
the better parts of the carcass back to his den.
The cat successfullyhunted zebras manymonths in this manner,
dining on filet mignon of zebra everynight, and from the better hides he made
bow neckties and wide belts after the fashion of the decadent princes of the
Old Siamese court.
He began boasting to his friends he was a lion, and he gave
them as proof the fact that he hunted zebras.
The delicate noses of the zebras told them there was really
no lion in the neighborhood. The zebra deaths caused many to avoid the region.
Superstitious, they decided the woods were haunted by the ghost of a lion.
One day the storyteller of the zebras was ambling, and
through his mind ran plots for stories to amuse the other zebras, when suddenly
his eyes brightened, and he said, "That's it! I'll tell a story about a
Siamese cat who learns to speak our language! What an idea! that'll make 'em
laugh!"
Just then the Siamese cat appeared before him, and said,
"Hello there! Pleasant day today, isn't it!"
The zebra storyteller wasn't fit to be tied at bearing a cat
speaking his language, because he'd been thinking about that veryt hing.
He took a good look at the cat, and he didn't know why, but
there was something about his looks be didn't like, so he kicked him with a
hoof and killed him.
That is the function of the storyteller.
"Happy Endings"
by Margaret Atwood
John and Mary meet. What happens next? If you want a happy
ending, try A.
A.
John and Mary fall in love and get married. They both have
worthwhile and remunerative jobs which they find stimulating and challenging.
They buy a charming house. Real estate values go up. Eventually, when they can
afford live-in help, they have two children, to whom they are devoted. The
children turn out well. John and Mary have a stimulating and challenging sex
life and worthwhile friends. They go on fun vacations together. They retire.
They both have hobbies which they find stimulating and challenging. Eventually
they die. This is the end of the story.
B.
Mary falls in love with John but
John doesn't fall in love with Mary. He merely uses her body for selfish
pleasure and ego gratification of a tepid kind. He comes to her apartment twice
a week and she cooks him dinner, you'll notice that he doesn't even consider
her worth the price of a dinner out, and after he's eaten dinner he fucks her
and after that he falls asleep, while she does the dishes so he won't think
she's untidy, having all those dirty dishes lying around, and puts on fresh
lipstick so she'll look good when he wakes up, but when he wakes up he doesn't
even notice, he puts on his socks and his shorts and his pants and his shirt
and his tie and his shoes, the reverse order from the one in which he took them
off. He doesn't take off Mary's clothes, she takes them off herself, she acts
as if she's dying for it every time, not because she likes sex exactly, she
doesn't, but she wants John to think she does because if they do it often
enough surely he'll get used to her, he'll come to depend on her and they will
get married, but John goes out the door with hardly so much as a good-night and
three days later he turns up at six o'clock and they do the whole thing over
again. Mary gets run-down. Crying is bad for your face, everyone knows that and
so does Mary but she can't stop. People at work notice. Her friends tell her
John is a rat, a pig, a dog, he isn't good enough for her, but she can't
believe it. Inside John, she thinks, is another John, who is much nicer. This
other John will emerge like a butterfly from a cocoon, a Jack from a box, a pit
from a prune, if the first John is only squeezed enough. One evening John
complains about the food. He has never complained about her food before. Mary
is hurt. Her friends tell her they've seen him in a restaurant with another
woman, whose name is Madge. It's not even Madge that finally gets to Mary: it's
the restaurant. John has never taken Mary to a restaurant. Mary collects all
the sleeping pills and aspirins she can find, and takes them and a half a
bottle of sherry. You can see what kind of a woman she is by the fact that it's
not even whiskey. She leaves a note for John. She hopes he'll
discover her and get her to the hospital in time and repent and then they can
get married, but this fails to happen and she dies. John marries Madge and
everything continues as in A.
C.
John, who is an older man, falls in love with
Mary, and Mary, who is only twenty-two, feels sorry for him because he's
worried about his hair falling out. She sleeps with him even though she's not
in love with him. She met him at work. She's in love with someone called James,
who is twenty-two also and not yet ready to settle down. John on the contrary
settled down long ago: this is what is bothering him. John has a steady,
respectable job and is getting ahead in his field, but Mary isn't impressed by
him, she's impressed by James, who has a motorcycle and a fabulous record
collection. But James is often away on his motorcycle, being free. Freedom
isn't the same for girls, so in the meantime Mary spends Thursday evenings with
John. Thursdays are the only days John can get away. John is married to a woman
called Madge and they have two children, a charming house which they bought
just before the real estate values went up, and hobbies which they find stimulating
and challenging, when they have the time. John tells Mary how important she is
to him, but of course he can't leave his wife because a commitment is a
commitment. He goes on about this more than is necessary and Mary finds it
boring, but older men can keep it up longer so on the whole she has a fairly
good time. One day James breezes in on his motorcycle with some top-grade
California hybrid and James and Mary get higher than you'd believe possible and
they climb into bed. Everything becomes very underwater, but along comes John,
who has a key to Mary's apartment. He finds them stoned and entwined. He's
hardly in any position to be jealous, considering Madge, but nevertheless he's
overcome with despair. Finally he's middle-aged, in two years he'll be as bald
as an egg and he can't stand it. He purchases a handgun, saying he needs it for
target practice-this is the thin part of the plot, but it can be dealt with
later--and shoots the two of them and himself. Madge, after a suitable period
of mourning, marries an understanding man called Fred and everything continues
as in A, but under different names.
D.
Fred and Madge have no problems. They
get along exceptionally well and are good at working out any little
difficulties that may arise. But their charming house is by the seashore and
one day a giant tidal wave approaches. Real estate values go down. The rest of
the story is about what caused the tidal wave and how they escape from it. They
do, though thousands drown, but Fred and Madge are virtuous and grateful, and
continue as in A.
E.
Yes, but Fred has a bad heart. The rest of the story is
about how kind and understanding they both are until Fred dies. Then Madge
devotes herself to charity work until the end of A. If you like, it can be
"Madge," "cancer," "guilty and confused," and
"bird watching."
F.
If you think this is all too bourgeois, make John
a revolutionary and Mary a counterespionage agent and see how far that gets
you. Remember, this is Canada. You'll still end up with A, though in between
you may get a lustful brawling saga of passionate involvement, a chronicle of
our times, sort of.
You'll have to face it, the endings are the same however
you slice it. Don't be deluded by any other endings, they're all fake, either
deliberately fake, with malicious intent to deceive, or just motivated by
excessive optimism if not by downright sentimentality. The only authentic
ending is the one provided here:
John and Mary die. John and Mary die. John and
Mary die.
So much for endings. Beginnings are always more fun. True
connoisseurs, however, are known to favor the stretch in between, since it's
the hardest to do anything with. That's about all that can be said for plots,
which anyway are just one thing after another, a what and a what and a what.
Now try How and Why.
