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A Relative Stranger Charles Baxter
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 A Relative Stranger,
by Charles Baxter. New York, Penguin Books,
1991.
"In Charles
Baxter's wise and subtle stories, shock, comedy, and love combine in
unexpected ways and in unexpected places to illuminate the tenuous
connections between relatives and strangers."
"Westland" is
southeast Michigan seen from the point of view of someone who has lived
there for years, but who has retained some of the instincts of a
foreigner. I would maintain that this is the only genuine
perspective from which one can write about a region like southeast
Michigan. If you were a native, a booster, a lifelong
resident, a man like Earl, who criticizes the narrator, Warren, for his
no-can-do attitude, yet who, when dressed in a clown suit for a charity
event looks to Warren like a man descending into a weakness like
alcoholism, you could not possibly have the perspective to write about
the place.
Above all, "Westland" captures the ineffectual nature of life in this
area of the United States. When Warren decides to load up
the gun Earl has given him to throw away, drives out to a nuclear waste
plant, and shoots four times at its brick wall, he feels that he has
done something in the spirit of Westland, the working-class suburb of
Detroit that Earl inhabits. Yet his action is not
rebellious, nor does it involve much in the way of personal risk or
sacrifice. It's a futile gesture--somewhat akin to that of
Earl's uncontrollable daughter Jaynee, who spends a night in the
zoo. It gets Warren's blood rushing; plotting it makes him
giddy for a brief span of time. But once he carries out his
little act of solitary protest, he tosses the gun away and returns home
to his wife and kids, fully satisfied with his adventure.
Southeast Michigan is a place where nothing really
happens. It's important to understand this statement
fully--not as a criticism, but in its entire existential
splendor. This could be the beginning of a whole new
type of tourist ethic--to travel to destinations whose
allure is their vacuity. There is indeed mystery in
such a place. There is undeniable mystery here. And
Baxter captures it when, falling out of his car door
after he has slammed into a ditch, Warren opens his
eyes, sees a shiny penny, and picks it up. He walks
around to the other side of the car and sees "a small
pile of beer cans and a circle of ashes, where some
revelers, sometime this summer, had enjoyed their little
party of pleasure there in the darkness," puts the penny
in his pocket, and starts up the car again. The penny
is important, because in an environment that is truly
empty, every tiny action takes on ritual
significance. And for those transplanted souls not
native to the region, its very mundane quality
contributes to a sense of exoticism. |
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Date Submitted:
2001-07-17 00:00:00
Review by The Spiritual Traveler |
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