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TIME: Almanac 1993
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TIME Almanac 1993.iso
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1992-08-28
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BOOKS, Page 68Imagining Men
THE FIREMAN'S FAIR
By Josephine Humphreys
Viking; 263 pages; $19.95
There is nothing like a 140-m.p.h. wind to get a new slant
on things. That, at least, is the premise of Josephine
Humphreys' third novel, set in Charleston, S.C., and environs
shortly after Hurricane Hugo whipped through in late September
1989.
What more seductive place to locate a story about love and
other disasters? The city has its irresistible charms: 18th
century architecture, a dashing 19th century history and old
families that have been likened to the ancient Chinese because
they eat rice, drink tea and worship their ancestors. Minutes
away are the Sea Islands, where the area's oversupply of
physicians and lawyers spend languorous weekends gunking around
in their Boston Whalers, sipping beer and picking crab.
Humphreys laid claim to this dis tinctive territory in
Dreams of Sleep and Rich in Love. The Fireman's Fair should
establish clear title. Her seemingly effortless sense of
character and place comes from a life-long association with the
Low Country and its ways. Like summer heat lightning, her style
is subdued and swiftly illuminating. She is also a witty
observer of regional manners. A black character, chary about New
South liberalism, is described as multilingual since "he could
speak the language that his listener wanted to hear."
Not so the principal character of the new novel. Rob
Wyatt, a 32-year-old lawyer, is not even sure that he wants to
hear his own monologues. He sees himself as a philosophical
bigamist wedded to two perspectives: "Robert the Serious, a
believer; also Rob the Ironic, jokester and cynic." The storm
rearranges the rhetoric, leaving Rob the Observer, who drops out
of his law firm to live at the beach with his dog Speedo.
A case of posthurricane depression? A literal-minded
reader could argue that. But Humphreys puts the ill wind to
figurative and far better uses. A white piano partially sunk in
the marsh, a detached spiral staircase coiled against the
horizon suggest fresh ways of seeing.
Wyatt has a writer's sensibility, but Humphreys was wise
to make him a lawyer. The profession symbolizes convention,
respectability and decorum. Were her protagonist a writer,
expectedly musing at the beach, no one would bother with him.
There would be no lovely Louise, former girlfriend and wife of
his ex-partner, trying to mother him back to responsibility and
solvency. There would be no Billie, the child-woman who, like
the dog trainer in Anne Tyler's The Accidental Tourist, teaches
new tricks.
Humphreys is a virtuoso of intimation. Her insights and
ironies cause twinges rather than shocks of recognition. It is
no coincidence that while Wyatt prefers imagining women to
handling them, his father is a philanderer who tells his son,
"I'm a man who made a dozen women happy for a short time and one
woman unhappy for 45 years." Imagining men, Humphreys artfully
brings good news and bad: men are educable, but women still have
to do it.
By R.Z. Sheppard