Hood / How Far She Went 179

178 Chapter Three / Characterization

week while he slept in the garden. She had got quite used to the frail But today she passed the baker's by, climbed the stairs, went into
head on the cotton pillow, the hollowed eyes, the open mouth and the the dark room—her room like a cupboard—and sat down on the
little

high pinched nose. If he'd been dead she mightn't have noticed for red eiderdown. She sat there for a long time. The box that the fur came

weeks; she wouldn't have minded. But suddenly he knew he was having out of was on the bed. She unclasped the necklet quickly; quickly, with-
the paper read to him by an actress! "An actress!" The old head lifted; out looking, laid it inside. But when she put the lid on she thought she

two points of light quivered in the old eyes. "An actress—are ye?" And heard something crying.
Miss Brill smoothed the newspaper as though it were the manuscript of
her part and said gently: "Yes, I have been an actress for a long time." QUESTIONS
10 The band had been having a rest. Now they started again. And l. We view the people and events of this story almost entirely through the
what they played was warm, sunny, yet there was just a faint chill—a eyes and feelings of its protagonist. The author relies upon indirect presen-

something, what was it?—not sadness—no, not sadness—a something tation for her characterization of Miss Brill. After answering the following

that made you want to sing. The tune lifted, lifted, the light shone; questions, write as full an account as you can of the nature and tempera-
and it seemed to Miss Brill that in another moment all of them, all the ment of the story's main character.
What nationality is Miss Brill? What is the story's setting? Why is it
whole company, would begin singing. The young ones, the laughing 2.

ones who were moving together, they would begin, and the men's important?
How old is Miss Brill? What are her circumstances? Why does she listen in
voices, very resolute and brave, would join them. And then she too, she 3.

on conversations?
too, and the others on the benches—they would come in with a kind
4.
Why does Miss Brill enjoy her Sundays in the park? Why especially this
of accompaniment—something low, that scarcely rose or fell, some-
Sunday?
thing so beautiful—moving .. And Miss Brill's eyes filled with tears
.
Of what importance to the story is the woman in the ermine toque?
5.
and she looked smiling at all the other members of the company. Yes, 6.
What is Miss Brill's mood at the beginning of the story? What is it at the
we understand, we understand, she thought—though what they under end? Why? Is she a static or a developing character?
stood she didn't know. 7.
What function does Miss Brill's fur serve in the story? What is the meaning
Just at that moment a boy and girl came and sat down where the of the final sentence?
old couple had been. They were beautifully dressed; they were in love. 8.
Does Miss Brill come to a realization about her life and habits, or does she
manage to suppress the truths that have been presented to her?
The hero and heroine, of course, just arrived from his father's yacht.
And still soundlessly singing, still with that trembling smile, Miss Brill

prepared to listen.
"No, not now," said the girl. "Not here, I can't." Marg Hood
"But why? Because of that stupid old thing at the end there?" asked
How Far She Went
the boy. "Why does she come here at all—who wants her? Why doesn't
she keep her silly old mug at home?' They had quarreled all morning, squalled all summer about the in-
"It's her fu-fur which is so funny," giggled the girl. "It's exactly like cidentals: how tight the girl's cut-off jeans were, the "Every Inch a
a fried whiting." Woman" T-shirt, her choice of music and how loud she played it, her
15 "Ah, be off with you!" said the boy in an angry whisper. Then: "Tell practiced inattention, her sullen look. Her granny wrung out the last
me, ma petite chære—" boiled dishcloth, pinched it to the line, giving the basin a sling and a
"No, not here," said the girl. "Not yet."
On her way home she usually bought a slice of honeycake at the
baker's. lc was her Sunday treat. Sometimes there was an almond in her
HOW FAR SHE WENT First published in 1984. Born in Brunswick, Georgia, in
1946, Mary Hood has set most of her fiction in rural Georgia, where she now
slice, sometimes not. It made a great difference. If there was an almond
resides. She has taught creative writing at the University of Mississippi, Berry
was like carrying home a tiny present—a surprise—something that
it College, and elsewhere. Her first collection, How Far She Went. won the Flannery
might very well not have been there. She hurried on the almond Sun- O'Connor Award for Short Fiction in 1984, and she subsequently published a
days and struck the match for the kettle in quite a dashing way. second collection, And Venus Is Blue ( 1986) and a novel, Familiar Heat (1995).
 180 Chapter Three / Characterization Hood / How Far She Went 181

slap, thewater flying out in a scalding arc onto the Queen Anne's lace Holy Bible like confetti and ravel the crochet into miles of stupid
by the path, never mind if it bloomed, that didn't make it worth any- string! I could! I will! I won't stay here!" But she didn't move, not un-
thing except to chiggers, but the girl would cut it by the everlasting her tears rose to meet her color, and then to escape the shame of
til

armload and cherish it in the old churn, going to that much trouble for minding so much she fled: Just headed away, blind. It didn't matter, this
a weed but not bending once—unbegged—to pick the nearest bean; time, how far she went.
she was sulking now. Bored. Displaced.
"And what do you think happens to a chigger if nobody ever walks The woman set her thcnrghts against fretting over their bickering,
by his weed?" her granny asked, heading for the house with that side- just went on unalarmed with chores, clearing off after the uneaten
long uneager unanswered glance, hoping for what? The surprise gift of meal, bringing in the laundry, scattering corn for the chickens, ladling
a smile? Nothing. The woman shook her head and said it. "Nothing." manure tea onto the porch flowers. She listened though. She always
The door slammed behind her, Let it. had been a listener. It gave her a cocked look. She forgot why she had
"I hate it here!" the girl yelled then. She picked up a stick and gone into the girl's empty room, that ungirlish, tenuous lodging place
I
broke it and threw the pieces—-one from each hand—at the laundry with its bleak order, its ready suitcases never unpacked, the narrow bed,
drying in the noon. Missed. Missed. the contested radio on the windowsill. The woman drew the cracked
Then she turned on her bare, haughty heel and set off high-shoul- shade down between the radio and the August sun. There wasn't any-
dered into the heat, quick but not far, not far enough—no road was that thing else to do.
long--—only as far as she dared. At the gate, a rusty chain swinging be- It was after six when she tied on her rough oxfords and walked

tween two lichened posts, she stopped, then backed up the raw drive to down the drive and dropped the gate chain and headed back to the cre-
make a run at the barrier, lofting, clearing it Cleant her long hair wild osoted shed where she kept her tools. She took a hoe for snakes, a rake,
in the sun. Triumphant, she looked back at the house where she caught shears to trim the grasswhere it grew, and seed in her pocket to scatter
at the darkwindow her granny's face in its perpetual eclipse of disap- where it never had grown at all. She put the tools and her gloves and
pointment, old at fifty. She stepped back, but the girl saw her. the bucket in the trunk of the old Chevy, its prime and rust like an Ap-
5 "You don't know me!" the girl shouted, chin high, and ran till her paloosa's spots through the chalky white finish. She left the trunk open
ribs ached. and the tool handles sticking out. She wasn't going far.
The heat of the day had broken, but the air was thick, sultry,
As she rested in the rattling shade of the willows, the little dog weighted with honeysuckle in second bloom and the Nu-Grape scent
found her. He could be counted on. He barked all the way, and squealed of kudzu.The maple and poplar leaves turned over, quaking, silver.
when she pulled the burr from his They started back to the house
ear. There wouldn't be any rain. She told the dog to stay, but he knew a
for lunch. By then the mailman had long come and gone in the old trick. He stowed away when she turned her back, leaped right into the
ruts, leaving the one letter folded now to fit the woman's apron pocket. trunk with the tools, then gave himself away with exultant barks. Hear-
bad news darkened her granny's face, che girl ignored it. Didn't
If ing him, her court jester, she stopped the car and welcomed him into
talk at all, another of her distancings, her defiances. So it was as they the front seat beside her. Then they went on. Not a mile from her gate
ate that the woman summarized, "Your daddy wants you to cash in the she turned onto the blue gravel of the cemetery lane, hauled the
plane ticket and buy you something. School clothes. For here." gearshift into reverse to whoa them, and got out to take the idle Walk
Pale, the girl stared, defenseless only an instant before blurting out, down to her buried hopes, bending all along to rout out a handful of
"You're lying." weeds from between the markers of old acquaintance. She stood there
The woman had to stretch across the table to leave her handprint and read, slow. The dog whined at her hem; she picked him up and
on that blank cheek. She said, not caring if it stung or not, "He's been rested her chin on his head, then he wriggled and whined to run free,
planning it since he sent you here." contrary and restless as a child.
10 "I could turn this whole house over, dump it! Leave you slobbering The crows called strong and bold MOM! MOM! A trick of the ear
over that stinking jealous dog in the dust!" The girl trembled with the to hear it like that. She knew it was the crows, but still she looked

vision, with the strength it gave her. It made her [augh. "Scatter the around. No one called her that now. She was done with that. And what
 182 Chapter Three / Characterization Hood / How Far She Went 183

Ill

was it worth anyway? It all came to this: solitary weeding. The sinful the ditch and landing upright on the road again, heading off toward the
fumble of flesh, the fear, the listening for a return that never came, reservoir.

the shamed waiting, the unanswered prayers, the perjury on the Furious, she tan to her car, past the barking dog, this time leaving
certificate—hadn't she lain there weary of the whole lie and it only be- him behind, driving after •them, horn blowing nonstop, to get back
ginning? And a voice telling her, "Here's your baby, here's your girl," what was not theirs. She drove after them knowing what they did not
and the swaddled package meaning no more to her than an extra any- know, that all the roads beyond that point deadeended. She surprised
thing, something store-bought, something she could take back for a them, swinging the ltnpala acr6ss their path, cutting them off; let them
refund. hit it! They stopped. She got oåt, breathing hard, and said, when she

15 'Clie her to the fence and give her a bale of hay," she had mur- could, "She's underage." Just that. And put out her claiming hand with
mured, drugged, and they teased her, excused her for such a welcoming, an authority that made the girl's arms drop from the man's insolent
blaming the anesthesia, but went deeper than that; she knew, and the
it waist and her legs tremble.

baby knew: there was no love in the begetting. That was the secret, un- was just riding," the girl said, not looking up.
"I 20

forgivable, that not another good thing could ever make up for, where Behind them the sun was heading on toward down. The long shad-
all the bad had come from, like a visitation, a punishment. She knew ows of the pines drifted back and forth in the same breeze that puffed
that was why Sylvie had been wild, had gone to earth so early, and be- the distant sails on the lake. Dead limbs creaked and clashed overhead
fore dying had made this child in sudden wedlock, a child who would like the antlers of locked and furious beasts.

be just like her, would carry the hurting on into another generation. A "Sheeeut,". the lone rider said. "l told you." He braced with his
matter of time. No use raising her hand. But she had raised her hand. muddy boot and leaned out from his machine to spit. The man the girl
Still wore on its palm the memory of the sting of the collision with the had been riding with had the invading sort of eyes the woman had
girl's cheek; had she broken her jaw? Her heart? Of course not. She said spent her lifetime bolting doors against. She met him now, face to face.
it aloud: "Takes more than that." "Right there, missy," her granny said, pointing behind her to the
She went to work then, doing what she could with her old tools. car.

She pecked the clay on Sylvie's grave, new-looking, unhealed after The
girl slid off the motorcycle and stood halfway between her

years. She tried again, scattering seeds from her pocket, every last pos- choices.She started slightly at the poosh! as he popped another top and
Sible one of them. Off in the west she could hear the pulpwood cutters chugged the beer in one uptilting of his head. His eyes never left the
sawing through another acre across the lake. Nearer, there was the woman's. When he was through, he tossed the can high, flipping it end
racket of motorcycles laboring cross-country, insect-like, distracting. over end. Before it hit the ground he had his pistol out and, firing once,
She took her bucket to the well and hung it on the pump. She had winged it into the lake.
half filled when
it the bikers roared up, tight down the blue gravel, "Freaking lucky shot," the other one grudged. 25

straight at her. She let the bucket-overflow, staring. On the back of one don't need luck," he said. He sighted down the barrel of the gun
of the machines was the Her bare arms wrapped
girl. Sylvie's girl! at the woman's head. "POW!" he and when she recoiled, he
yelled,

around the shirtless man riding between her thighs. They were first. laughed. He swung around to the he kept aiming the gun, here,
girl;

The second biker rode alone. She studied their strangers' faces as they there, high, low, all around. "Y'all settle it," he said, with a shrug.

circled her. They were the enemy, all of them. Laughing. The girl was The girl had to understand him then, had to know him, had to
laughing too, laughing like her mama did. Out in the middle of know better. But still she hesitated. He kept looking at her, then away.
nowhere the girl had found these two men, some moth-musk about her "She's fifteen," her granny said. "You can go to jail."

drawing them (too soon!) to what? She shouted it: "What in God's— "You can go to hell," he said.

They roared off without answering her, and the bucket of water tipped "I'll save you a seat by the
"Probably will," her granny told him. 30
over, spilling its stain blood-dark on the red dust. She took the girl by the arm and drew her to the car; she backed
fire."

The dog went wild barking, leaping after them, snapping at the up, swung around, and headed out the road toward the churchyard for

tires, and there was no calling him down. The bikers made a wide cir- her tools and dog. The whole way the girl said nothing, just hunched
cuit of the church-yard, then roared straight across the graves, leaping against the far door, staring hard-eyed out at the pines going past.
 184 Chapter Three / Characterization
Hood / How Far Shc Went 185

The woman finished watering the seed in, and collected her tools. home. The woman pressed her hands to her mouth, stifling her cough.
As she worked, she muttered, "It's your own kin buried here, you might She was exhausted. She couldn't think.
have the decency to glance chis way one time .. ." The girl was finger- "We can get under!" the girl cried suddenly, and pointed towaFd the
tweezing her eyebrows in the side mirror. She didn't look around as the
Greers' dock, gap-planked, its walkway grounded on the mud. They
dog and the woman got in. Her granny shifted hard, sending the tools
it, wading in, the woman grabbing up the telltale, tattle-
splashed out to
clattering in che trunk.
dog in her arms. They waded out to the far end and ducked under.
tale
When they came to the main road, there were the men. Watching %ete was room between the foam floats for them to crouch necledeep.
for them. Waiting for them. They kicked their machines into life and
The dog wouldn't hush, even then; never had yet, and there wasn't
followed, close,bumping them, slapping the old fenders, yelling. The time to teach him. When the woman realized that, she did what she
girl gave a wild glance around at the one by her door and said,
had to do. She grabbed him whimpering; held him; held him under till
"Gran'ma!" and as he drew his pistol, "Gran'ma!" just as the gun nosed the struggle ceased and the bubbles rose silver from his fur. They
into the open window. She frantically cranked the glass up between her crouched there then, the two of them, s6bmerged to the shoulders, feet
and the weapon, and her granny, seeing, spat, "Fool!" She never had unsteady on che slimed lake bed. They listened. The sky went from rose
been one to pray for peace or rain. She stamped the accelerator right to to ocher to violet in the cracks over their heads. motorcycles had
the floor.
stopped now. In the silence there was the glissando of locusts, the dry
The motorcycles caught up. Now she braked, hard, and swerved off
crunch of boots on the flinty beach, their low manetalk drifting as they
the road into an alley between the pines, not even wide enough for the prowled back and forth. One of them struck a match.
school bus, just a fire came out a quarter mile from her own
scrape that "—they in these woods we could burn 'em out."
house, if She slewed on the pine straw, then
she could get that far.
The wind carried their voices away into the pines. Some few words
righted, tearing along the dark tunnel through the woods. She had for eddied back,
the time being bested them; they were left behind. She was winning. "—lippy old smartass do a little work on her knees besides pray-
Then she hit the wallow where the tadpoles were already five weeks ing—
old. The Chevy plowed in and stalled. When she got it cranked again,
Laughter. It echoed off the deserted house. They were getting
they were stuck. The tires spattered mud three feet up the near trunks closer.
as she tried to spin them out, to rock them out. Useless. "Get out and One of them strode directly out to the dock, walked on the planks
run!" she cried, but the trees were too close on the passenger side. The over their heads. They could look up and see his boot soles. He was the
girl couldn't open her door,She wasted precious time having to crawl one with the gun. He slapped a mosquito on his bare back and cursed.
out under the steering wheel. The woman waited but the dog ran on. The carp, roused by the troubling of the waters, came nosing around
They struggled through the dusky woods, their pace slowed by the the dock, guzzling and snorting. The girl and her granny held still, so
thick straw and vines. Overhead, in the last light, the martins were still. The man fired his pistol into the shadows, and a wounded fish
reeling free and sure after their prey.
thrashed, dying. The man knelt and reached for it, chuffing out his
35 "Why? Why?" the girl gasped, as they lunged down the old deer beery breach. He He pawed the lake for the dead fish, cursing
belched.
Behind them they could hear shots, and glass breaking as the men
trail.
as it floated out of reach. He shot it again, firing at it till it sank and the
came to the bogged car. The woman kept on running, swatting their gun was elnpty. Cursed that too. He stood then and unzipped and re-
way clear through che shoulder-high weeds. They could see the Greer They had to listen to that. To know
lieved hilnself of some of the beer.
cottage, and made for it. But it was ivied-over, padlocked, the woodpile that about him. To endure that, unprotesting.
dry-rotting under its tarp, the electric meterbox empty on the pole. No Back and forth on shore the other one ranged, restless. He lit an-
help there.
other cigarette. He coughed. He called, "Hey! They got away, man,
The dog, excited, trotted on, yelping, his [ips white-flecked. He that's all. Don't get your shorts in a wad. Let's go."
scented the lake and headed that way, urging them on with thirsty yips. "Yeah." He finished. He zipped. He stumped back across the planks 45
On the clay shore, treeless, deserted, at the utter limit of land, they and leaped to shore, leaving the dock tilting amid widening ripples.
stood defenseless, listening to the men coming on, between them and Underneath, they waited.
 186 Chapter Three / Characterization Suggestions for Writing

The bike cranked. The other ratcheted, ratcheted, then coughed, 2. Contrast the characterizations of the grandmother and her granddaughter.

caught, roared. They circled, cut deep ruts, slung gravel, and went. Which is the more sympathetic character, and why?

Their roaring died away and away. Crickets resumed and a near frog
3. Discuss the use of detail in the story. How are small details used to create
and enrich the characterizations?
bic-bic-bicked.
4. What is the role of the small dog in the plot? Why is the dog an essential
Under the dock, they waited a little longer to be sure. Then they
element in the story?
ducked below the water, scraped out from under the pontoon, and came 5. Are the bike riders flat or round characters? How do they conform to stereo-
up into free air, slogging toward shpre. It had seemed warm enough in typical notions of men who travel the countryside on motorcycles?
the water. Now they shivered. It was almost night. One streak of light 6. Is the granddaughter a developing character? Locate a key moment when
still stood reflected on the darkening lake, drew itself thinner, narrow- her character undergoes a significant change.
ing into a final cancellation of day. A
plane winked its way west. 7. What is the role of the grandmother's deceased daughter, Sylvie? What do
The girl was trembling, She ran her hands down her arms and legs, we learn about her character, and how is this information important to the
shedding water like a garment. She sighed, almost a sob. The woman story?

held the dog in her arms; she dropped to her knees upon the random 8. Discuss the ending. What are the "wounds" described in the final line?

stones and murmured, private, haggard, "Oh, honey," three times,

maybe all three times for the dog, each of them. The
maybe once for SUGGESTIONS FOR WRITING
girl waited, watching. Her granny rocked the dog like a baby, like a Write an essay on the direct or indirect presentation of character in one
dead child, rocked slower and slower and was still. of the following:

"I'm sorry," the girl said empty eye.

then, avoiding the dog's inert,
a. Connell, 'The Most Dangerous
' Game" (page 67).
b. Greene, "The Destructors" (page 111).
50 "It was him ot you," her granny said, finally, looking up. Looking
"Interpreter of Maladies" (page 141).
c. Lahiti,
her over. "Did they mess with you? With your britches? Did they?"
2. Considering the three criteria that are necessary for developing a con-
"No!" Then, quieter, No, ma'am."
g

vincing character, write an essay in which you determine whether one of

When the woman tried to stand up she staggered, lightheaded, the following characters meets these criteria:
clumsy with the freight of the dog. "No, ma'am," she echoed, fending a. Rainsford in Connell, "The Most Dangerous Game" (page 67).
off the girl's "Let me." And she said again, "It was him or you. I know b. Blackie in Greene, "The Destructors" (page 111).
that. I'm not going to rub your face in it." They saw each other as well c. Mr. Kapasi in Lahiri, "Interpreter of Maladies" (page 141).
as they could in that failing light, in any light.
The woman started toward home, saying, "Around here, we bear
our own burdens." She led the way along the weedy shortcuts. The twi- 4
light bleached the dead limbs of the pines to bone. Insects •sang in the
thickets, silencing at their oncoming.
"We'll see about the car in the morning," the woman said. She bore
her armful toward her own
moth-ridden dusk-to-dawn security light
with that country grace she had always had when che earth was reliably
progressing underfoot.The girl walked close behind her, exactly where
she walked, matching her pace, matching her stride, close enough to
put her hand forth (if the need arose) and touch her granny's back
where the faded voile was clinging damp, the merest gauze between
their wounds.

QUESTIONS
I. Describe the plot structure. How is narrative suspense initiated and main-
tained? Where would you locate the climactic point in the story?