Wednesday, June 20, 2007
What is not remembered
Meriel tries to remember everything about her romantic encounter --"and by 'remember' she meant experience it in her mind, one more time -- then store it away forever." And for years to come, she continues to remember things about that day, each time being jolted by the memory. It's not until after her husband dies, however, that she remembers perhaps the most important moment: The doctor refused to kiss her goodbye. And she realizes that if she had remembered it earlier, she might not have stayed with her husband. She might have left her marriage in response to her lover's denial even though nothing else had made her do so, not even the fact that she didn't seem to particularly like her husband. What do you make of that?
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
5 comments:
I wondered if that realization (of the fact he didn't kiss her at the end) was meant to signify that she realized that this thing that had been a sort of romantic cornerstone in her life was for him something far more casual and free. He did this sort of thing all the time, which is what is implied by his saying he never kisses goodbye. Maybe if she had understood the opportunities of freedom long ago she wouldn't have felt so tied to her husband, but would have become more of her own person. The encounter, she realizes, wasn't some flukey, once-in-a-lifetime thing that happened under the perfect set of weird circumstances, but was in fact something that, in some people's world, happens all the time.
I think her aunt's memory of the sexy party was significant here, too. Of all the things her elderly mind could dwell on over a lifetime, it dwells on the joyous, free moments of sexual liberation.
It reminds me of that song "Sex and Candy." the guy who wrote it said he got the idea from his old grandma. He asked her what things she had really enjoyed in life and she said, "sex and candy." The sweet things. It wasn't an answer he was expecting from a woman of her generation, but it delighted him.
You're exactly right, kc. She would have seen a different possibility for her life if she had not suppressed that memory:
[It] would have made her more alert and more curious.
...
There was another sort of life she could have had....
What I find most interesting at the end of the story is how her view of the doctor changes as a result of remembering his refusal to kiss her good-bye.
The little self-preserving movement he made, the kind and deadly caution, the attitude of inflexibility that had grown a bit stale with him, like an outmoded swagger. She could view him now with an everyday mystification, as if he had been a husband.
I'm not sure I understand all the ins and outs of this statement, but Munro seems to be saying that Meriel realized at this point that the doctor was not much better a man or lover than the young husbands were.
I don't know whether it had to do with the sense of the secret compact between them, like he knew the rules to the ritual that would make the parting bearable and also continue to absolve her of any seeming complicity. She wanted the doctor to direct every aspect of their tryst so she could somehow hold herself blameless, and here he took the lead on how to finish it.
Or yeah, maybe he was saying, that was it, honey. I got what I wanted.
Post a Comment