University of Massachusetts Amherst ScholarWorks@UMass Amherst Masters Theses 1911 - February 2014 January 2008 Looks Patrick F. Robbins University of Massachusetts Amherst Follow this and additional works at: https://scholarworks.umass.edu/theses Robbins, Patrick F., "Looks" (2008). Masters Theses 1911 - February 2014. 89. Retrieved from https://scholarworks.umass.edu/theses/89 This thesis is brought to you for free and open access by ScholarWorks@UMass Amherst. It has been accepted for inclusion in Masters Theses 1911 - February 2014 by an authorized administrator of ScholarWorks@UMass Amherst. For more information, please contact [email protected]. LOOKS A Thesis Presented by PATRICK ROBBINS Submitted to the Graduate School of the University of Massachusetts Amherst in partial fulfillment of the requirements for the degree of MASTER’S OF FINE ARTS February 2008 MFA Program for Poets & Writers LOOKS A Thesis Presented by PATRICK ROBBINS Approved as to style and content by: ____________________________ Chris Bachelder, Chair ____________________________ Noy Holland, Member ____________________________ Anthony Giardina, Member ____________________________ Dara Wier, Director M.F.A. Program for Poets and Writers _____________________________ Joseph Bartolomeo, Chair Department of English For my parents TABLE OF CONTENTS Introduction…………………………………………………………………..……………1 The Day Denny Hudson Taught Fourth Grade …...………………………………………5 Mississippis………………………………………………………………....……………25 The Perfect Host………………………………………………………....………………35 Why He Did It……………………………………………………………………………52 The Fat Mime………………………………………………………...….………………66 The Return of Mavis ………………………………………………….………………....75 Reverse Zoom……………………………………………………………………………84 My Choosing……………………………………………………………………………..88 The Emissary……………………………………..…………………………………….104 Feeling Something………………………………..…………………………………….119 Empty……………………………………………..…………………………………….136 The End of Boney and Clive……………….…….……………………………………..149 Notes……………………………………………………………………………………182 iv Introduction In 1979, Jello Biafra, the lead vocalist for the punk rock group the Dead Kennedys, ran for mayor of San Francisco as a prank, under the slogan “There’s always room for Jello.” His platform included banning automobiles from the city limits and requiring businessmen to wear clown suits during the workday. He wound up with 3 ½ percent of the vote. Years later, Biafra spoke about the reaction his campaign stops got. “People would show up with signs like, ‘If he doesn’t win I’ll kill myself,’” he said. “My favorite; somebody showed up with one saying, ‘What if he wins?’” * “In most good stories it is the character's personality that creates the action of the story,” Flannery O’Connor once said. “If you start with a real personality, a real character, then something is bound to happen. You don’t have to know before you begin. In fact, it may be better if you don’t know what before you begin. You ought to be able to discover something from your stories. If you don’t, probably nobody else will.” 1 The first four sentences of what O’Connor said are just one indication why I could never follow in her footsteps, much as I’d love to. I’ve never been the sort of writer who knows everything there is to know about his characters before they ever appear on the page. I marvel at those who can tell you what the heroine keeps under her pillow at night without mentioning it once in the story. Their journey to the heart of the story begins with those in it, and it’s a journey that I never learned how to take. Fortunately for me, there are other starting points on the path of discovery. Rather than invest myself in the characters and then invent a situation for them, I’ve always been one to invest myself in the situation and then invent characters to inhabit it. The idea of what’s about to happen is what excites me and makes me press forward with the story. So many times, that idea begins with the words, What if? One day I was thinking about the comic strip Calvin & Hobbes by Bill Watterson. The final strip showed the two of them on a toboggan, riding off into the sunset with the words, “Let’s go exploring!” I thought how good it was of Watterson not to end the strip with Calvin outgrowing Hobbes, only able to see him as a stuffed animal, just like everyone else. Then I thought, What if he did? The book Educating Esmé by Esmé Codell has a chapter where the author, a fifth- grade teacher in an inner-city Chicago school, trades places with one of her rambunctious students for a day. She makes all the trouble she can, and marvels at his ability to control the class, using all the catch phrases she’d used over the course of the year. The day was an absolute success. I thought, What if it was a colossal failure? You’ll find my answers to these questions on the following pages, along with many others. 2 * One of the things I like best about the what if approach is the wide open freedom it gives me. I’ve entered the outlines of a landscape that I can color and populate any way I please. I can discover facets about my characters as they march through this predetermined world. The environment has just as much of an effect on me as it does on those who are caught within it. Just as important for me is the way the question engages the reader. Any book on relationships worth its weight in kisses will tell you this: • The best way to get to know somebody is to talk with them. • The best way to talk with them is to ask them questions. • These questions cannot be answered with a yes or no . • Most importantly, you’ve got to listen to the answers. The words what if lead very naturally to thought and consideration, followed by an answer that can’t be less under three words long. The longer the answer (one answer in this collection approaches ten thousand words), the more captivated I become. The dialogue I have with the story I’m writing is thrilling to me, and I hope to pass on that thrill to the reader. * I’d be remiss if I didn’t mention the other question I like to ask myself as I sit down to write. That question is, can I? I don’t just like to challenge the reader of the story (myself included) with what the characters say and do; I like to challenge my abilities as a writer with experiments. Can I write a story with one word of dialogue? Can I write a story where each sentence 3 takes place earlier than the one before it? Can I keep a key character out of sight for the length of the story? I can’t imagine a reader would need to know about my desire to give every character a name that could be either a first name or surname, but the fact remains – it gives me a smile to try it and find out if it works. If it does, great. If it doesn’t, I can always throw it out – I’m already dealing with far more pressing questions. * I feel very fortunate that my inside-out approach to writing stories still allows me ways to make discoveries. O’Connor’s so right about that; if I can’t make them, there’s no way the reader can. So whenever a what if or a can I emerges, there’s the excitement not just of an undiscovered country before me, but of the gift of being given another chance to explore the realm of possibility. And now it’s your turn. Patrick Robbins November 2007 4 The Day Denny Hudson Taught Fourth Grade “Guess what I’m doing with my class today,” I said. Joe Hull looked up from his newspaper. We were the only ones in the teachers’ lounge, so he figured it was him I was talking to. “What are you doing,” he said, the words rising and falling in a ho-hum cadence. “I’ve got a little hellion, his name’s Denny Hudson,” I said. “You’ll have him next year. Talks out when he shouldn’t, won’t do his work, tries to get away with as much as he can. You have any kids in your class that you really just kind of need to keep a leash on?” “What are you doing,” he repeated. He took a sip from his gigantic coffee mug, which had the words I HATE COFFEE embossed on the front. “Well, yesterday I told him he wasn’t making my job any easier, and he said, ‘I didn’t think your job could get any easier.’” Joe chuckled; I suppressed a wave of irritation and went on. “Now everyone was laughing, and he had this I-just-stuck-it-to- 5 you look on his face. And then it hit me. And I said, ‘I’m glad you think this job is so easy to do, Mister Hudson. Because tomorrow, you’re going to be doing it.’” I paused for effect. Joe took another sip of coffee. “His face went as pale as a thing of yogurt. He went, ‘Aw, Mister Clifton, I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry.’ And I said, ‘Fine. Today you’re sorry. Tomorrow, you’re Mister Clifton. And I’ll be Denny Hudson.’” Joe’s newspaper rustled as he adjusted himself deeper into the dirty houndstooth recliner. “He’s never coming in, you know,” he said. “Oh yes he is,” I said, gingerly leaning forward – a night on the sofa had done a number on my spine. “I talked to his mother last night and told her what I had planned, so he wouldn’t try to fake being sick. And not only did she love the idea, she said she would drive him in herself.