The only time in Boston my sister and I spent without mom was at the library. She doesn’t care for books, or any art, for that matter, so to make use of the setting and our short time of mutual understanding, we found one book with two copies, sat in the courtyard, and read. Giggling at the pre-elementary spelling and anthropomorphic animals, we soon found out such laughing matters can be stained with tragedy! Stories of life, even one as short as this, can hold so much dimension! We finished, and we cried. It’s not often you share such an unsuspecting experience with your sister, so in case you and your own are in need of a sweet little metamorphosis, also read Fox 8 by George Saunders.
Two years later. The man has an event coming soon, one to which I decided to go in November, but, to my despair, neglected to buy tickets until today (they’re sold out). Now I’m on a waitlist because I’m not immune to the sunk cost fallacy. I mean, I already bought Lincoln in the Bardo, am in the process of reading A Swim in the Pond in the Rain, and just borrowed Liberation Day from the library. Not the Boston one, I’m not there anymore. So why not add to the list? I’ll revisit Fox 8 while I’m George-Saunders-maxxing.
Well folks, I’m glad to report it is just as good as I remember :) a 20 minute read, but a transformative one at that! Saunders reminds me of fiction’s power, of art’s power. It is so weird to think that there are people out there (my mother, sorry) who genuinely aren’t affected by said power. Books serve no purpose to her unless they make you smarter, which, supposedly, only has efficacy until about age 15. At that point, time to pursue more valiant efforts! Science! Math! In the midst of this rambling I must tell you my perception of Fox 8 is inextricable from my mood upon first reading, the day after exploring an art museum with her, where the only wisdom she offered was that the Greeks should have sculpted less nudity. Maybe I shouldn’t be ranting so much (respecting thy elders is a commandment I often fail to follow), but is that not the most boring way to approach art? To see nothing past its moral implications? As if those standards don’t shift across region and time? Sorry! Reading Fox 8 felt to me as an act of rebellion, unlocking a secret joy she could not access. I’m sure you can though. You are on Goodreads after all. But I feel the same as I continue reading Saunders’ work. I sure hope I get off that waitlist.