The Beast In the Jungle is supposedly one of James’ best short stories, and it served as my introduction to his work. I was very impressed with the deftness of his literary play in psychological depths, conversational labyrinths, and sociological jungles [wink].
Learning his discursive and intermittent sentences—a splicing of myriad thoughts that flow back and forth through clarifications, qualifications, and endless expansions of ideas mid-sentence—can be quite a task, and can give you a headache worse than this sentence might give you. And that’s the way it is through the entire book! And then, the conversational complexity and subtle nuances that he weaves into his stories caught me off guard and made me feel like such a 3rd grader trying to play ball with the 5th graders. I felt like I was listening into dialogue that I could barely keep up with—inside jokes that were told right in front of me about incidents that had happened all around me, and I was the only one that didn’t get it. I had to reread sentence after sentence to catch up with the conversation that was sure to serve as the next launching pad for a new inference in the next paragraph.
And I loved it. Yeah, you heard me. Although the plot itself was just okay (that reduced my 'star' rating above), the dialogue gave me hope that intentional conversation can be so much more than the doldrums we often make it. Why do we settle for so much less in even a causal convo? Could we really do better at peering into each other souls, and gleaning from each others' experiences, instead of nonchalantly acknowledging the weather patterns for the day, or giving our image another roid-poke by endless shop-talk and blowhard self-aggrandizement that typifies much common talk that centers on the superficial, material happenings of the Ordinary? I do. But how? It would take at least two people, strong, with a passion for learning, committed to ‘saying more’, taking risks and treating every discussion like a window into a new world. Unfortunately, some of those windows open on a brick wall, and that’s why every conversation is a risk.
My favorite line refers to the tell-tale signs of the social masks we sometimes wear to conform through ‘dissimulation’ and conventional behavior: “out of the eye-holes [of the social mask] there looked eyes of an expression not in the least matching the other features. This the stupid world, even after years, had never more than half discovered.” The story is about finding that friend who knows the eyes behind the mask.
Not sure how interested I am in plunging further into James’ larger works, especially not the dense, belabored sentences/paragraphs that are sure to grow much more convoluted in something like ‘A Portrait Of a Lady”, but I might be up for another short story or two.