THE PURSUIT OF THE ABSURD

How can one not love a book that is peppered with words such as garth, bevins, baver and fanfarooons?

CALEB'S CROSSING, by Pulitzer Prize winner Geraldine Brooks, has all that and more. In this superior kind of historical novel there is, above all, a lesson about cultural assimilation and its unintended consequences. Its main character is based on a a real person, Caleb Cheeshahteaumauk, a member of the Wampanoag tribe of Martha's Vineyard. Though his birth date, 1646, preceded by nearly thirty years John Dryden's introduction of the concept of the noble savage into the English language, Brooks painted him as an icon of tractability and lofty ideals. She had only a few facts on which to base her story—Caleb's date of birth, 1646, tribal affiliation, the dates of his graduation from Harvard, 1665, and his his death a year later. She also had a letter he allegedly wrote in Latin during his sojourn at Harvard College.

To these wispy brush strokes Brooks added on her own vivid colors to create a fascinating portrait of a young man's transition to a place that depended on the Old World for a cultural model although it existed, physically, in the New World. She chose an imagined character, Bethia Mayfield, a highly intelligent young girl who hungered for knowledge and who chafed at the socio-religious constraints her culture imposed upon women. Linguistically gifted, she eavesdropped on her older brother's Hebrew, Latin, and Wopanaak lessons, storing up information that had no practical use until, at age twelve, she met Caleb.

This is what she saw, “All else about him was open and naked, saved for three glossy feathers tied into a kind of topknot in his thick, jetty hair, which was very long, the forelock pulled hard from his coppery face and bound up as one would a horse's mane. His smile was unguarded , his teeth very white and something in his expression made impossible to fear him.” Of such contrasting figures—milky pale girl in ankle-length skirt, naked, sunburned young man, are romance novels made. But Brooks is way above such literary shenanigans. What she does, and she does it extremely well, is to explore the commonality and the difference between these two, adding a touch of philology, a pinch of Anne Bradstreet's proto-feminist poetry, generous servings of history and large measures of theology. Bethia is a Puritan. Caleb is in line to follow his tribe's medicine man. This friendship is the first stage of Caleb's transformation into an English speaking, somewhat reluctant Christian, fit to join the privileged group of liberi liberaliter educati, gentlemen educated like gentlemen. Not only did he use his new language to speak of ordinary things, he also discussed concepts that must have been foreign to the Woponaog. This raises the question of how Bethia transitions so quickly from a passive understanding of Woponaak to total fluency. The reader can only assume that she is a linguistic prodigy. But then so seems to be Caleb. Else how can they discuss the fine points of theology? How do they bridge the linguistic gaps early on when they happen upon a concept that has no equivalent term in the other's native speech?

Besides learning new languages, Caleb must cut his hair, learn to wear hose, coat, bonnet, and shoes, and he must acquire a taste for unfamiliar food, as he adapts to his new, enclosed surroundings.

“So many things I loved I had to learn to hate,” he says. That is no surprise to the assimilated immigrants who realize that in order to belong entirely to a culture other than their own, they must kill that which they once loved. Sometimes, that means leaving behind their first language along with the notions of civility, generosity, humor, honor, bravery, cowardice, hospitality, and privacy associated with it. It means replacing a collection of gestures--shrugs, hand waving, embraces—old ways of expressing emotion with new ones. Layer by layer of the old self must be peeled away so that a new one can emerge. The process is rarely gentle.

Then there is the question of how assimilated he becomes when it is impossible for him to change the angles of his face or change radically the coppery tone of his skin. Having left family and friends behind, he must have gone through a stage where he belonged nowhere. By the time he graduated from Harvard,--the first Native America to do so in Colonial times-- his heart must have been torn as often as that of Prometheus, to whom he compared himself. Yet when he talked of stealing the fire of knowledge to share with his people he stopped short of saying that such an act is at once a creative and destructive. Once he performed it, there was no turning back.

“You have done it, my friend. It has cost you your home, your health, and the estrangement from your closest kinsman. But after today, no man can say that the Indian mind is primitive and ineducable,” says Bethia. Her own crossing is no less than Caleb's as she moves from her beloved island home to Harvard's buttery and eventually, to Padua, Italy.

This is a luminous book, filled with reverence for the unsung heroes of Colonial America. Readers who might never have heard of Caleb owe Brooks a debt of gratitude.

LAURA HARRINGTON, AUTHOR OF ALICE BLISS

Who is Alice Bliss?

Alice Bliss is a 15-year-old girl in 10th grade, living in upstate New York, deeply connected to her dad who is serving in Iraq with his Reserve unit. 

ALICE BLISS the book grew out of Alice Unwrapped, a musical. What was the inspiration for the musical and how did it evolve into a book?

The musical was a commission, actually, and the creation of a new form in music theatre: the one-act, one-woman musical. Paulette Haupt, our commissioner and producer, was inspired by Alan Bennett’s play: Talking Heads.  Bennett wrote a series of searing, touching, funny monologues for BBC television.  They were subsequently broadcast on BBC Radio and then performed live in theatres. 


It was an extreme challenge to tell a story in 30 minutes with one singer. I actually wrote 3 stories for this commission, but found I loved the character of Alice best.


And, oddly enough, the very first germ of the character of Alice came from another musical that I wrote with Jenny Giering, Crossing Brooklyn.  In that show, Alice was a teenage runaway, living in Prospect Park, sleeping in the carrousel at night.  That character was cut from the final version.


With Alice Unwrapped, at 30 minutes, almost entirely sung, we could really only dramatize one key moment in Alice’s life.   And I realized that there was a much larger story to be told.  Which is when decided I wanted to write a book.  

ALICE BLISS is a profoundly moving uplifting novel about those who are left at home during wartime and a teenage girl bravely facing the future. It chronicles the impact of the war on those left at home: children, partners, family members, the community. With the US in a war the story is quite timely. Do you have a connection to the world in which you write?

My father was a navigator/ bombardier in WWII, flying missions into Germany from his air base just north of Paris.  Both my brothers enlisted in the Air Force in 1966. So, while I don’t have a family member serving in this war, my family has been deeply impacted by war.  


My father suffered from PTSD following the war, a time he would never talk about directly.  Nor would he talk about the experiences during the war that had so devastated him.  The silence surrounding my father’s war experiences has probably been the single greatest mystery and inspiration in my life.  I believe that my fascination with war grows out of my need to understand these experiences and to bear witness to this silent suffering.



What do you hope families experiencing a similar scenario take away from reading your book?

I hope they will feel that I am telling their story and doing justice to it.

While writing the book I was simply immersed in the story, but now that I’m done I can step back and look at the larger picture. It strikes me that you can live in many parts of the US completely untouched and unaware of the wars we’ve been engaged in for the last 8 years.  And there’s something about that fact that is terribly unsettling. I think there is an enormous amount of unexpressed grief surrounding these wars and that ALICE BLISS, like good theatre, creates an emotional catalyst that allows us to feel that grief.  


And because the book is not “about” the war, but about a family and a town and growing up, the emotional impact sneaks up on you. 

What is your writing regimen?

When I’m writing—whether it’s a book or a play or a musical or an opera—I write every day.  When I’m between projects, or researching and imagining a new story, I can spend weeks and months reading and walking and taking notes and asking questions and developing characters and a storyline.  I find the in-between times very, very uncomfortable.  Living with uncertainty, wandering around in the middle of mental chaos is very challenging. I’m happiest when I’m writing.


When you write do you have a story in mind and then the characters evolve to tell that story or do you create characters and the story comes from them? 


I begin with the characters, with a strong sense of “voice.”  I really hear my characters and learn a great deal about them by getting them talking.  However, the story is evolving at the same time the characters are beginning to jell.  Because what’s a character without a story?  To me, story is paramount.  


ALICE BLISS is not a book about war.  When you were writing did you find it challenging to focus on the personal story of the family rather than the politics?

I made a strong choice early on not to go to Iraq in the book.  I knew that the emotional impact would come from keeping the story focused on Alice and her family at home. At the same time, Matt, Alice’s father, is such a key character and we have so little time with him before he ships out. How do we keep him and his story present?  Finding that balance was challenging and an interesting puzzle to solve.  

What inspired you to write this book now?

I think that making the war personal is important. Telling the stories of those left behind, illuminating the lives of spouses and partners and children who have a loved one deployed is important.  Do we know their stories, their struggles?  Do we hear their voices? I hope we can begin to see this war one child at a time, one soldier at a time, one missing father at a time. 

You capture the main character Alice wonderfully; her strength, vulnerability and awkwardness of being a teenage girl.  Were you anything like Alice growing up?

I think we are all like Alice.  That combination of strength, vulnerability, awkwardness and intensity is universal to those years.

I was the youngest of four children, and my siblings were quite a bit older, so I had a much more solitary childhood than Alice did.   But there’s something about those years that I can still see, hear, taste, and feel. For whatever reason, I have intense empathy for teens.   



What type of books do you like to read?

All kinds.  If I’m researching a project, like Napoleon or Joan of Arc, or the American Civil war, I can get lost in my reading lists.

I love novels. I’d rather read a book than eat.  I love history, I love great non-fiction, I love good writing.

What are you reading now?

Anne Fadiman’s Ex Libris, Confessions of a Common Reader, a beautiful series of essays about books and reading and words.  It turns out that Anne Fadiman was also a collector of big words, like Ellie.

Jane Smiley’s new book: Private Life, and Graham Robb’s, Parisians: An Adventure History of Paris.” 

My wish list is lengthy and always growing.  I am a big fan of my local library.

Which aspect of your work do you most enjoy?

The freedom to think my own thoughts, pursue my own passions, indulge my own obsessions.  The necessity of reading.  Being able to think of reading as part of my job.  How lucky is that?  And the opportunity to learn a great deal, even to become a mini expert about all kinds of things, like Napoleon in exile on St Helena’s, Joan of Arc’s last 3 days in prison, Sherman’s march to the sea, the ratification of the nineteenth amendment, marathon dancing, etc, etc.  It’s fun, and it’s never, ever boring.

Who are your heroes?

My parents.  I’m inspired by them and guided by them every single day of my life. 


The peacemakers.  Whoever and wherever they are.

What would your colleagues be surprised to learn about you?

I’m constantly looking for ways to be a kid again, to play.

What is your most treasured possession?

My wedding ring.

What inspires you?

The world around me.  Every day.