The Last Man Standing

by George Chambers

First, the voice of my father. First, the rasping death rattle of his voice calling me. His voice everywhere, surrounding. Each way I turn, his voice equally there, calling my name. Boy, rattled the voice. Boy. I start in each direction to go to him, but I hear the voice everywhere so I stand still. Boy, says the voice, its rattle thinning, hollowing. A thick fogbank rolling in over the water, father's figure rising from it. Father's figure draped in blue, a blue gown, his face swollen and bruised. A smear of yellow on his chest, a badge of yellow pulsing in the blue fabric. I rush into the water, shouting his name. Father! Just as I am about to dive and swim to him, he holds up his hand, commanding me to stop. I stand waist-deep in the freezing water. Murder, he says. I am murder. Is he saying murder, or mother? I can't be sure. Boy, Father says. I am put to death. No, I shout. No! The figure continues to rise, to swell as a corpse might after days in the water. It points at me. Boy, it commands. Find the one. Punish. Father! I shout, as the figure loses its structure, collapses into the rolling fogbank. Above the whispering I hear one last word. Sign, the deathsound says. Sign.

142 pages, Paperback

First published January 1, 1990

About the author

American novelist and poet. Professor of English at Bradley University.

Reviews

[MJ Nicholls · Rating 4 out of 5]

The Last Man Standing is a book on that old chestnut of chestnuts, the dead father. Split across four days, covering the protagonist’s arrival to attend the funeral, the novel is separated into mini-sections that summarise their content, i.e. ‘Chores’, ‘Tableware’, ‘Songs’, etc. The protagonist’s siblings are ‘Brother’ and ‘Sister’, unnamed, and his mother is ‘Agnes’. The novel consists of literal descriptions of the protagonist’s actions, childhood flashbacks, and surreal fantasies. More conventional in approach apart from the formatting (the text is arranged like a playscript), the novel serves up a melancholy portrait of an unlikeable father whose influence is imprinted on his children for the worse. The protagonist’s sexual approaches to the housekeeper seem of more importance than sorting out the family’s affairs, telling of potential domestic chaos to follow back home. On the whole, this short novel is more banal than The Bonnyclabber, however, the Vietnam war resurfaces as a topic, suggesting perhaps Chambers’s participation and flagging up the autobiographical content of this novel (it is probable his father passed around this time), which for the nosier reader adds an extra dimension in which to poke around.