Racism and Politics

            Two of my stories — “The Vigil” and “The Legacy” — address the subjects of racism and politics. We all know what spin our favorite TV or radio commentator will take on those issues. But how will characters in conflict act?

“The Vigil”

This was written during the Bill Clinton impeachment fracas, but it takes place in the future, at a time when vigilantism has been legalized (in a limited form). Our “hero” has been given the use of a Smith and Wesson 625 for one week, during which he can enforce civic values. Which Ken does, according to his beliefs and his emotional makeup. This story is entirely relevant to the present day. It appeared in an online magazine called Thought (now defunct). Kevin Feeney’s acceptance began with a two word sentence: “Brilliant story.” When it was published a reader emailed him a letter, meant to be passed on to me; here are a few excerpts: “Very funny, crisply written and brutally satiric . . . You’ve got a genre – vigilante comedy – all to yourself.”

            I gave an artist friend in New York a link to the story; after reading it she was generous enough to pass the link on to a number of her “politically-minded” acquaintances, and then she forwarded me their responses. Excerpts from two: “The mask never drops — i.e., one is never allowed outside the mind and mindset of the narrator. Because of this Phillip’s tale reels us in: we are there in the chill confines of Kens’s sensibilities . . . A sneaky identity with the Vigilante develops . . .” And: “The word that came to mind was ‘deadly.’ It’s deadly in more ways than one, of course, but the primary idea is how well it targets its enemies. It’s got the drop on them and the steadiness of viewpoint, of tone and insight into the vigilante mentality that taints American history is, well, lethal.” This reader also “particularly appreciated the ‘repressed sexuality’ of ‘The Vigil’ ”(and then he gives examples, which you can discover for yourself).

“The Legacy”

The idea for this story occurred when I was driving around Louisiana. In Kentwood I saw a For Sale sign on the spacious lawn of an old house surrounded by oaks and magnolias. I had no intention of buying the place — for one thing, it was way too big — but I was curious about it. I called the real estate agent, and he was able to come right over. We spent a half hour inside. Though the place had fallen into semi-disrepair, it had been built with a craftsmanship that has long ago been lost; and the material used — heart pine floors, cypress French doors, etc. — also belonged to the past. Records showed, the agent told me, that the house dated back to the mid 1800s. It was grand and somehow spooky. When we left the agent paused and pointed to a small shack off to the side; in front of it a black man was working under the hood of an ancient truck. The agent told me that there was a stipulation to the sale: the couple who lived in that house must be allowed to stay there, free of expenses, for the rest of their lives. He added that the man would handle upkeep of the yard and was able to do general repair work — roofing, plumbing, etc. He was also an expert mechanic. When I was driving away a thought struck me: I was being put in the position of being a slave owner. Of course I didn’t buy the house. But in my story Edmund does. . . .

            The story appeared in the South Carolina Review. Later I got a letter from the editor: a New York agent by the name of Nat Sobel had requested contact info for me. Would I allow him to pass that on? Of course I would. A bit of research revealed that Sobel Weber Associates was a top tier agency. Mr. Sobel wrote me a long letter in which he expressed admiration for the story. He was on the lookout for “new talent,” and if I had a novel, he would like me to send him the opening chapters (short story collections, he wrote, were “practically unsaleable”). I had two novels, and I sent him the first part of one, filled with hope. But he was “not hooked” by what I submitted. And though he wrote that he was open to seeing more of my work, I came to the conclusion that I couldn’t give Mr. Sobel more of what he wanted. “The Legacy” is dark southern Gothic, and though I had other stories in that vein, neither of my novels offered anything close.

            My writing has no consistent tone. The two stories I’m offering up are very different. “The Vigil” is wild and funny and mean, and (as one of the readers commented) we’re in Ken Stark’s mind. “The Legacy” is much denser and more grounded in reality. It’s told through the perspective of the town, as represented by an attorney. The town observes what’s going on in the house that Edmund Glass buys, and they also remember the past history of that house. A similarity between the two stories is that both are “deadly.”

           

            If you think this introduction, with its inclusion of quotes expressing admiration, is shameful self-promotion, consider that famous authors use blurbs. Mine were unsolicited, and I kept them because they meant something to me. I appreciate the lady who sent out the link and the people who bothered to respond. She may have gotten negative comments which she didn’t forward, though I would have been open to them. But her “politically-minded” acquaintances would probably have been of a liberal persuasion.

            They may have been unsettled by how much pleasure I got out of being Ken Stark for a week. And, regarding the conflict of the races in “The Legacy,” guilt is shared by both sides. I offer no solutions to problems that I see as intractable.