apartment. He was glad to be seeing Caroline, but the only thing he wanted at this point in life was to be with his family.
“Anyway, you already know what it means,” Caroline said. “Why are you asking me?”
“I don’t know. I just . . . it’s something I don’t really understand.”
The question of stardom. It had been eating at him for the past few weeks, ever since his mother told them about the review. Everyone was responding as if it were such big news. Janine was acting as if she were no longer worthy to spend time in the same room with her. Saul was acting as if it had somehow put an end to all his hopes. Florence was acting as if she’d been crowned. But what
was
it, really? It was a book review. It was a good review, but no better than a lot of reviews Florence had received in the past. The main thing that was special about it wasn’t the what but the where. The main thing that was special about it was that it was on the cover of the
Times Book Review.
But, really, why was
that
a big deal? It wasn’t the
New York Times
that thought Florence was hot stuff; it was just one lady who’d happened to get the assignment. If she’d been busy that week and they’d given the book to somebody else, they would have gotten a different result. And yet everyone was acting as though the spirit of literary authority had descended from the heavens and wrapped around Florence’s shoulders the mantle of never-dying greatness.
Yes, he had a fancy internal monologue for a policeman, but look at how he’d grown up.
He felt as if he lacked some gene or some organ of sense perception. He’d seen an article a while ago about sounds that adults can’t hear; maybe there were concepts that a few of us can’t understand, and being a star was one of them. What
was
it? Those who wanted to be stars seemed to believe that if enough people knew who you are, then you . . . what? Wouldn’t be unhappy? Wouldn’t die?
“Maybe it’s just New York,” he said. “Emily needed to find a dentist last month. One kid she knew from college gave her a recommendation, and he told her, ‘He’s a good dentist. He isn’t a star, but he’s a good dentist.’ Can you imagine? Is there anyplace else on earth where somebody’d apologize for sending you to a dentist who wasn’t a star?”
“I’d never go to a dentist who wasn’t a star,” Caroline said.
Maybe the yearning for stardom wasn’t like a sound he couldn’t hear but a disease he was immune to.
I have greatness in me.
Jesus.
If it was a disease, there was no mystery about why he was immune to it. Both of his parents had spent their lives in its grip, and he’d witnessed its stupidity. He’d lived the effects of it. He was one of its effects.
“What if it doesn’t work out?” he said. “What’s your backup plan?”
“That’s what I love about you, Daniel.”
“What’s that?”
“You’re never afraid to be blunt.”
“So what’s your backup plan?”
“My backup plan is not to have a backup plan. If you’re making plans about what to do if you fail, aren’t you just planning to fail?”
“That’s one way of looking at it.”
“Do you think I’m being childish?”
Yes, he thought. But then again, what do I know? So he took the optimistic view.
“I think you’re being brave. You know what you want and you’re going after it. I think you’re doing exactly what you should be doing. Put that away.”
“Come on. You’re my guest.”
“You’re a budding artist. I’m a member of the bourgeoisie. My only value in life is to buy lunch for the young.”
He told himself that he shouldn’t worry for her too much. She was smart and resourceful. And she was beautiful, which wouldn’t hurt. Maybe she’d become what she wanted to become. It sometimes happens, he supposed.
36
To get to her office, on the fifth floor of the lab, you took an elevator that had mirrored walls. As it rose slowly, Janine studied herself. She looked critically
“Anyway, you already know what it means,” Caroline said. “Why are you asking me?”
“I don’t know. I just . . . it’s something I don’t really understand.”
The question of stardom. It had been eating at him for the past few weeks, ever since his mother told them about the review. Everyone was responding as if it were such big news. Janine was acting as if she were no longer worthy to spend time in the same room with her. Saul was acting as if it had somehow put an end to all his hopes. Florence was acting as if she’d been crowned. But what
was
it, really? It was a book review. It was a good review, but no better than a lot of reviews Florence had received in the past. The main thing that was special about it wasn’t the what but the where. The main thing that was special about it was that it was on the cover of the
Times Book Review.
But, really, why was
that
a big deal? It wasn’t the
New York Times
that thought Florence was hot stuff; it was just one lady who’d happened to get the assignment. If she’d been busy that week and they’d given the book to somebody else, they would have gotten a different result. And yet everyone was acting as though the spirit of literary authority had descended from the heavens and wrapped around Florence’s shoulders the mantle of never-dying greatness.
Yes, he had a fancy internal monologue for a policeman, but look at how he’d grown up.
He felt as if he lacked some gene or some organ of sense perception. He’d seen an article a while ago about sounds that adults can’t hear; maybe there were concepts that a few of us can’t understand, and being a star was one of them. What
was
it? Those who wanted to be stars seemed to believe that if enough people knew who you are, then you . . . what? Wouldn’t be unhappy? Wouldn’t die?
“Maybe it’s just New York,” he said. “Emily needed to find a dentist last month. One kid she knew from college gave her a recommendation, and he told her, ‘He’s a good dentist. He isn’t a star, but he’s a good dentist.’ Can you imagine? Is there anyplace else on earth where somebody’d apologize for sending you to a dentist who wasn’t a star?”
“I’d never go to a dentist who wasn’t a star,” Caroline said.
Maybe the yearning for stardom wasn’t like a sound he couldn’t hear but a disease he was immune to.
I have greatness in me.
Jesus.
If it was a disease, there was no mystery about why he was immune to it. Both of his parents had spent their lives in its grip, and he’d witnessed its stupidity. He’d lived the effects of it. He was one of its effects.
“What if it doesn’t work out?” he said. “What’s your backup plan?”
“That’s what I love about you, Daniel.”
“What’s that?”
“You’re never afraid to be blunt.”
“So what’s your backup plan?”
“My backup plan is not to have a backup plan. If you’re making plans about what to do if you fail, aren’t you just planning to fail?”
“That’s one way of looking at it.”
“Do you think I’m being childish?”
Yes, he thought. But then again, what do I know? So he took the optimistic view.
“I think you’re being brave. You know what you want and you’re going after it. I think you’re doing exactly what you should be doing. Put that away.”
“Come on. You’re my guest.”
“You’re a budding artist. I’m a member of the bourgeoisie. My only value in life is to buy lunch for the young.”
He told himself that he shouldn’t worry for her too much. She was smart and resourceful. And she was beautiful, which wouldn’t hurt. Maybe she’d become what she wanted to become. It sometimes happens, he supposed.
36
To get to her office, on the fifth floor of the lab, you took an elevator that had mirrored walls. As it rose slowly, Janine studied herself. She looked critically
Similar Books
