Click the picture to support this effort. |
After letting William Trevor’s The Collected Stories
languish on my bookshelf for many years, I have endeavored to read the thousand
plus pages. Of course his recent death has spurred my interest, but the
recommendation of one of my college writing instructors, Padgett Powell always
rings true here, so I am now questing through and pondering the greatness of
Trevor’s works.
To begin, Trevor’s “A Meeting in
Middle Age” crafts a slow burn narrative around an unlikely couple. On one end
is Mr. Mileson, a man who has nothing to live for, nor anything of distinction
in his past. His family had had a house on a lease of ninety-nine years, but
despite being unmarried and childless, Mr. Mileson is unable to retain the
property. While he mentions a lack of regret over this fact, his thoughts
repeatedly cycle back to the residence and pang with loss in general. Thus,
while he has failed to fulfill his biological purpose of reproducing, he also
relinquishes the family’s material legacy. As Mrs. da Tanka later notes, “‘What
kind of life have you had? You had not the nerve for marriage. Not the brains
for success. The truth is you might not have lived’” (9). He lacks fulfillment,
and even struggles to play his full part in their brief encounter.
Mr. Mileson is pitted against Mrs.
da Tanka. A dashing woman of middle age, she still hangs on the laurels of her
beauty. She is seeking a separation from her husband and has arranged to be
seen with Mr. Mileson in bed. While the two do not outwardly intend to be
lovers, they are placed in the ample position to do so if wanted. With these
facts in mind, Trevor places the perfect strangers in a room and allows the
fires of reality to burn. The stodgy Mrs. da Tanka rails on her whole life,
calls foul to her existence due to her dissatisfaction with her husband and his
predecessor, and shreds her current companion as well: “‘Have you ever thought
of wearing an eye-patch Mr. Mileson? I think it would suit you. You need
distinction. Have you led an empty life? You give the impression of an empty
life’” (5). She sees the man as a low class lackey and, as unfortunate as it
may seem, Mr. Mileson lives up to the role. He is a shell, a vessel waiting to
be filled but lacking the capacity to do so. She clings to this fact and works
to tear him down to what she deems to be the appropriate level.
In actuality, Mr. Mileson has
little to hold on to. His garden and the cottage that held it vanished with his
lease, and without children, women, or even a desire to marry and love, he
clings to empty vessels from his past: “‘As a child I collected birds’ eggs on
the common. I have kept them all these years’” (8). While an act of tenderness,
the retention of these eggs only serves to show Mr. Mileson is the end of his
line and a child at heart. He takes pride in the past, and it is with his past
that he will mistakenly attack his pseudo-lover and tear her heart out. It is
in this past, the mention of cow-parsley, that the two connect at the very time
that the walk off the train and go their separate ways. All the while, Trevor
forces his readers to consider the implications over who was worse off and who
really was the failure.
Favorite line:
“In fact she was not, but finding
herself involved at all reflected the inadequacy of her married life and
revealed a vacuum that once had been love. ‘We are better apart,’ she had said.
‘It is bad to get used to being together. We must take our chances while we
may, while there is still time’” (2).
No comments:
Post a Comment