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Florida International University FIU Digital Commons FIU Electronic Theses and Dissertations University Graduate School 3-2-2011 The Adventures of James Tully Joseph A. Lapin Florida International University, [email protected] DOI: 10.25148/etd.FI11042001 Follow this and additional works at: https://digitalcommons.fiu.edu/etd Recommended Citation Lapin, Joseph A., "The Adventures of James Tully" (2011). FIU Electronic Theses and Dissertations. 349. https://digitalcommons.fiu.edu/etd/349 This work is brought to you for free and open access by the University Graduate School at FIU Digital Commons. It has been accepted for inclusion in FIU Electronic Theses and Dissertations by an authorized administrator of FIU Digital Commons. For more information, please contact [email protected]. FLORIDA INTERNATIONAL UNIVERSITY Miami, Florida THE ADVENTURES OF JAMES TULLY A thesis submitted in partial fulfillment of the requirements for the degree of MASTER OF FINE ARTS in CREATIVE WRITING by Joseph Alan Lapin 2011 To: Dean Kenneth Furton College of Arts and Sciences This thesis, written by Joseph Alan Lapin, and entitled The Adventures of James Tully, having been approved in respect to style and intellectual content, is referred to you for judgment. We have read this thesis and recommend that it be approved. Campbell McGrath Michael Gillespie Lynne Barrett, Major Professor Date of Defense: March 2, 2011 The thesis of Joseph Alan Lapin is approved. Dean Kenneth Furton College of Arts and Sciences Interim Kevin O’Shea University Graduate School Florida International University, 2011 ii DEDICATION I dedicate this book to my brother, Jason Lapin. iii ABSTRACT OF THE THESIS THE ADVENTURES OF JAMES TULLY by Joseph Alan Lapin Florida International University, 2011 Miami, Florida Professor Lynne Barrett, Major Professor THE ADVENTURES OF JAMES TULLY is a novel in stories depicting James Tully's experience growing up in the light of his mother's mental illness and the discovery that his family has secrets important to his understanding of himself. After trying to negotiate these difficulties in his working class home town of Clinton, Massachusetts, he embarks on a search for the place where he really belongs. THE ADVENTURES OF JAMES TULLY spans the protagonist’s life from the age of ten through the period following his graduation from college at twenty-one. The book is divided into three sections. As is typical in the bildungsroman form, the protagonist is a young man who forsakes his home in the search for experience and spiritual enlightenment. Ultimately, James builds a new sense of self as he moves from seeing his world as horrible and frightening to finding in it the promise of beauty. iv TABLE OF CONTENTS CHAPTER PAGE I. DESCRIBING A NIGHT VISION TO HERON…………………………1 II. STREETS IN MY BLOOD……………………………………………….3 III. THE LAWN………………………………………………………………20 IV. YOU’RE GOING TO CARRY THAT WEIGHT……………………….43 V. THE CAN MAN………………………………………………………….54 VI. BLOODY QUEENS……………………………………………………...68 VII. BLOODY NORTH CAROINA…………………………………………..78 VIII. THE LESSON…………………………………………………………….95 IX. FIRST LOVE…………………………………………………………….118 X. THE CASTLE ON THE HILL…………………………………………..176 XI. THIRTEEN WAYS TO SAY GOODBYE TO HOME…………………199 XII. AN ELEGY………………………………………………………………219 XIII. A CRASH IN BOSTON…………………………………………………228 XIV. HERON………………………………………………………………….240 XV. GUATEMALA IN A PICK-UP…………………………………………248 XVI. DEAD UNCLE RESERVE……………………………………………..255 XVII. THE PLOW TRUCK……………………………………………………275 XVIII. SACRIFICE……………………………………………………………..287 v Section 1: The Blood Tie “There may come to be new places in our lives that are second spiritual homes closer to us in some ways, perhaps, than our original homes. But the home tie is the blood tie”— Eudora Welty. Chapter I. Describing a Night Vision to Heron To: Heron Freeman Subject: Night Vision 3:00 a.m. Dear Heron, I’m sharing this with you, because you wanted to know about my dreams and visions. At first, I didn’t want to tell you about them, because I was scared that you would think I was crazy. (It’s so early in the morning here. No one is up.) I know, however, that you won’t judge me. And it is a way for us to remain close, even if California feels so far away from Miami. Distance means nothing when you can share dreams. I know that now. Well, last night, my vision caused me to jump out of bed. Remember, sometimes at night, when we lived together in our old home in the Grove (the one I can see from my new home), I would jump out of bed, thinking a stranger had broken into our place. I wanted to protect you and Hendrix. Even though Hendrix is the dog and should be protecting us. No one was ever in our house. So about ten minutes ago, when I was sleeping in this new bed that I’m too tall for, I jumped out of bed and right out of my dream. There was a tremendous noise outside. I opened the window in my tiny room, and I saw a cloud of purple smoke billowing and growing exponentially. America was 1 under attack. Enemies were dropping bombs. I saw fire consuming everything like Dresden being swallowed by napalm. How could I protect you and Hendrix now that you were on the other side of the country? I tried to speak to my grandmother, an invisible person in the room, and pleaded with her to protect you. Then I realized that wouldn’t help. Violence has no sympathy for prayer. What other options did I have? The bombs were still coming. We were actually under attack. Steel exploding sounded like lightning striking the bed of a truck. And then suddenly, all the clouds of smoke receded from my sight, and the world of the invasion became my actual window. I was suddenly staring at the trees in my parking lot. The vision disappeared from my sight like water draining from a bathtub. The purple explosions morphed into the poinsettia being lit up by a street lamp. This was my vision. I miss you so. I’m really working hard on this book. One day, baby, I’ll give you the world. But I’m worried about the wars, the crusades—maybe I’m just paranoid?—when will they interfere with our lives? When will the distance between us become longer than time? Love, James 2 Chapter II. Streets in My Blood All I wanted was to get to the hospital, have a doctor replace the temporary cast on my wrist, and return to school before lunch period, but instead, my mother kept carting me around Clinton, running different types of errands, and appearing as if she were driving through a dream. We had already driven around town (which was about 8 square miles) three times, and she started to give the impression that she was enjoying herself, as if this was some sort of family outing. Behind the wheel of her blue Grand Am, my mother was smiling and watching everything in the town so precisely I thought she was trying to memorize every brick, every crevice, every neighborhood, presupposing some sort of massive change in the town’s architecture. Sometimes she stared at me at red lights and stop signs, and I wondered if she had thought I was disappearing, too, trying to capture my face, my hands, my arms. I began to wonder what it meant to be manic—a word I’d heard doctors and my grandparents throw around. “What a beautiful day,” she said. “Truly a beautiful day.” “Are we going to the hospital, yet?” I asked. “Who said anything about a hospital?” She grabbed a cigarette from the console and lit it with the car cigarette lighter. “Relax. It’s a beautiful day.” Flicking the cigarette, my mother dropped the ash into a cup holder in the center console. I looked at my mother to judge if she was joking. My grandparents, who helped raise me, originally planned on taking me to the hospital, but this morning, my mother interjected and said she would be the one taking me. I was her son after all. My grandparents, Mimi and Poppy, were both apprehensive, but they conceded, deciding that 3 driving me to the hospital was a simple enough task, though sometimes even the simplest tasks with my mother became complicated journeys. We all knew that, but hoped maybe this time would be different. I thought she seemed serious about forgetting about my appointment, and I couldn’t get over how happy she appeared. Maybe she stopped taking her medicine again. It was truly a beautiful day. She was right. And for November, it still felt like early fall. The weather had been so indecisive. A week ago it snowed, and there were still pockets of dirty powder melting away on the street. The looming threat of winter weighed heavy on my mind. I hated being trapped inside of my house while snow piled up. Soon all the beautiful days would be gone and everything would be gray and cold. And winter seemed to be the time my mother was always the strangest. As if, when the days got shorter, she lost her ability to maintain mental stability. Winter, for us, was a litmus test for sanity. My mother had stopped at a red light and looked down at some letters resting in her lap. When she stepped into the car that morning, I saw my mother holding the bundle of letters and hiding them behind her back. I hadn’t given them much thought at first, but now, when she saw that I had been looking at them, she shoved the letters into the compartment on the door, and I became more curious. “Who are the letters for?” I asked.

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