A Window Facing West: A Novel - Softcover

Tarlton, John S.

Softcover

ISBN 10: 1882593464 ISBN 13: 9781882593460

Publisher: Bridgeworks, 2001

Synopsis

The witty first-person narrative of a baby boomer's mid-life crisis, set in Baton Rouge.

About this title

About the Author:

John S. Tarlton was born in Shreveport and lives in Baton Rouge. His short stories have been published in The Crescent Review, The Southwestern Review, and other literary journals, and anthologized in Something in Common (Louisiana State University Press). A Window Facing West is his first novel. An early manuscript version won the 1998 Eaton Literary Award.

Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.:

Sarah and I do talk to each other. No problem there. We must spend the better part of our lives hashing things out, settling accounts. We converse in the middle of the night if necessary. Neither of us is above waking the other if a salient point is to be made. It's as if by compensating for a possible decline in physical intimacy, our relationship grows increasingly verbal. Is that true? Is there some bizarre corollary here? Language, the spoken word, taking precedence over sweet caress? Let me turn that around: if I were to try putting a lid on it, cease trying to always get in the last conclusive word, stop talking, would I better my chances?

"What's got you so huffy?" Sarah asked, perched above this morning's bowl of crunchy bran nuggets.

Sarah is the only person I've ever met who can roll out of bed and look stunning. Her eyes looked as blue as the sea.

"All I said was 'Happy Birthday, Gatlin,'" she said. "You're acting like an old grouch."

"I am not an old grouch," I replied, spooning runny golden egg onto my toast. "What I said was I'm losing my edge, my ability to appreciate things."

"Things?"

"People, places, smells, tastes. Everything's fading."

"Are you wearing your new glasses?"

"We're not discussing my eyesight, Sarah."

"You're half blind and vain as a palace peacock," she said. "It would be just like you to stumble through life rather than wear your new glasses."

"I'm wearing the damned glasses. O.K.? We're not talking about the glasses anymore. All right? We're talking about death, deterioration.". . .

"Well, I hope you're not heading for some kind of crack-up," Sarah said, helping herself to another spoonful of rocks.

"Crack-up? What's that supposed to mean?"

"Crack-up, crisis, call it what you want. Women accept their mortality better than men."

I had a good idea where Sarah was going with this, but I didn't know if I could stop her.

"Some sort of biological advantage?" I said.

"Maybe," she said. "But I really think men define themselves in terms of their physical prowess. A weakening of strength threatens your identity."

"And women are above that? So what's all this commotion with face-lifts and tummy tucks and skin creams you ladies are so fond of? Name one woman we know who doesn't color her hair."

"The preservation of one's natural looks and the fear of dying are separate and distinct," Sarah said, brushing her black bangs off her high forehead. "Men see decline and fear death. Women are more accepting."

"Let's assume, Sarah, let's assume for the moment that women are more accepting. A harsh wind blows and the tall supple grasses of womanhood bend accordingly. So how's that make you any better than us? Tell me."

"I didn't say women were better, just different," she said. "Besides, without me, you would have fallen off the edge of the earth long ago."

Sarah stopped chewing and stared at me.

"And Gatlin," she said, "please use your napkin. You've got egg on your chin."

About this edition

• Publisher: Bridgeworks
• Publication date: 2001
• ISBN 10: 1882593464
• ISBN 13: 9781882593460
• Binding: Paperback
• Number of pages: 186