In July 1994, I ran into O.Henry on a very hot summer night when I was writhing in the grip of insomnia. Since then, the O.Henry stories have always been by my bedside. Although you cannot find the profoundness of Zweig or Maupassant in O.Henry, he had an unprecedented talent, which was not evident in either of them: to drown burst into laughter the reader with a sentence or even only one word!
The protagonists in his stories, which he weaves with exaggeration, irony and metaphor, are mostly ordinary (perhaps "semi-ordinary" would be more accurate 😊): thieves, counterfeiters, swindlers. The story almost always ends with a mystification, as if it were an Agatha Christie novel. If you just look at the plot, you might not find the stories humorous; but it is O.Henry's unique narrative style that makes the story full of humor and tearful smiles.
After a brief introduction that also reflects my introspection to O.Henry’s stories, let's come to my number one favorite O.Henry story, namely "The Last Leaf". What did I say, on a hellishly night in 1994, my consolation session, accompanied by my laughter for almost every minute of it, was going on with unexpected endings, as expected, which I stumbled it upon. The first page of the already very short story is over, then the second page, then the third page, and then the last page... " Gosh, was this a O.Henry story, or was someone else's story accidentally mixed in; or even worse, did Poe’s soul incarnate into O.Henry's?" while I was in such confused thoughts, the story ended without a single laugh being heard echoing on the glass walls of my balcony.
Maybe you know, there is an old saying that "A leopard cannot change his spots.", which has a counterpart in almost every culture. O.Henry had done what his temperament dictated in a harmony with this saying, tucked in a few funny words; but this time he not only left the reader in the opposite corner, but also in the opposite direction! Of course, you can easily predict that I didn't mind doing what my temperament dictates either...
The story revolves around Behrman, an old artist who enters the last stages of his career with a terrible disappointment of not being able to produce the masterpiece he has always dreamed of, and his young colleagues Johnsy and Sue, who are still in the sweet months of their careers. As Johnsy, who has pneumonia, watches around from her sickbed, she notices the leaves falling from the vine on the opposite wall and has the idea that she will die the day the last leaf falls to the ground. Sue visits to poor Behrman, who lives downstairs, to request him about to pose for her new illustration. As they talk, she also mentions Johnsy’s condition. Behrman calls Johnsy's idea as foolish naturally. As an inveterate fan of O.Henry, I will of course throw you a curve! I have no intention of going any further and spoiling the beauty of the story; please spare no expense and do not deprive yourself of the pleasure reading this already fleeting O.Henry masterpiece, on your own!
However, if you need to answer the question "What is the main idea of the story?", which we are very accustomed to from high school years, you can respond that this is the story of "a friendship beyond sisterhood" formed between Sue and Johnsy, and more importantly, of the story "loving someone to death" (a perfect hint for sloths 😊) that comes to life in Behrman's personality.
Afterword, I have a habit of reading my favorite books over and over; as my favorite O.Henry story, “The Last Leaf" is no exception. Although I rate it as excellent, I think at times there is something missing in this story. Could we call the feeling that pushed Behrman to this great sacrifice, for which he risked dying, only an innocent "friendly love"? Could it not be that our poor hero had declared his hopeless love for Johnsy in the most glorious way he could? I can more or less predict how Zweig's story "The Triumph of a Heart" 😊, which will contain the answers to these questions, will swirl around a how terrible psychological depression; welcome, the opposite of defeated Salomonsohn who achieved his life's purpose by dying: victorious Behrman! But this is not the case for Maupassant. Though, I wouldn't say it even if I could; is there any point in scaring nigh owls with ghost stories for God's sake, at 2 o'clock in the morning ?..
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