“The Stone”
by Louise Erdrich
from the September 9, 2019 issue of The New Yorker
Louise Erdrich is one of my favorite authors. I think her body of work is exceptional and important. Next March, her next novel, The Night Watchman, comes out, and I’m happy to say that “The Stone” is not an excerpt!
From the first paragraph, this story feels like one of the fables her characters might tell their grandchildren, just in a different setting:
Her family drove north every summer to stay at the end of an island in cold Lake Superior, and it was there that she found the stone. It wasn’t on the beach, where stones are usually found, but in the woods. She was wandering in the brush behind the cabin, uncurling ferns, kicking up leaves, snapping the heads off mushrooms. She sat down beside a birch clump, and after a few moments her neck prickled. She had the distinct feeling that someone was staring at her. Looking around, she saw the stone. It was black and rounded, nestled in the crotch of the birch clump. Water had scoured two symmetrical hollows into the stone, giving it an owlish look, or a blind look, or, anyway, some quality that was oddly attractive. At first, she was startled and a little spooked, but then she ran her hand over the stone and it felt like a normal stone. It was about half the size of a human skull and very smooth. The girl’s mother called to her, and she got up, holding the stone, and carried it into the cabin. At first, she put it beside her pallet in the bedroom she shared with her siblings. But then, thinking that her brothers or her sister might take the stone, she tucked it right at the bottom of her sleeping bag. That night, her feet rested on the cool curve of the stone, and she brushed the smooth eye sockets with her toes.
I hope everyone is having a wonderful start to their week and that you have the opportunity to read — and read “The Stone.” If you do, please let us know your thoughts.
Hmm, this didn’t do much for me. I much prefer Erdrich’s “fables” when they are part of a larger story, something she does often in her novels. As it stands here, I liked it fine, but, not being one to dig too deeply into fables, I usually require someone else to help me understand just what is going on and how/why it is saying something. I’ll appreciate any of that help here!
Trevor, I thought it was ok, but it did not do a lot for me either. I read the excerpt from La Rose that was published in The New Yorker under the title “The Flower” and that was a little better, but suffered from being an excerpt. I started reading The Round House but didn’t finish it. I think there is just something about her writing that does not quite click for me.
.
As for the fable-like aspect, I think this answer from the author interview best captures what it seems she was trying to do with the story: “This story is about finding solace in an entity that isn’t human. A stone is alien, but deeply familiar. It is a heavy secret and a messenger from an epoch of time beyond comprehension. I have no idea why the girl shares this upsetting incident with the stone [the hair cutting]—but it seems to help her. We all enact odd little rituals we don’t understand.” From my reading, the section where she talks about the length of the “life” of the stone (or any stone) suggests that the comfort it provides has something to do with being a reminder of how ephemeral human experiences are. Even for the girl, the hair cutting incident is a big deal when it happens, but in just a few pages we get a whole life story which, when compared to that, the hair cutting is just a moment, a blip. Compared to the stone’s life, it is hardly anything at all.
.
PS – The description of the stone as “half the size of a human skull” and of the broken piece as “a piece the size of a baby’s fist” are interesting choices.
As usual, I come in from left field on most of these authors and their work. I found this story captivating from the first sentence. Yes, totally agree, to anthromorphize the stone particularly haunting and suggestive. Unfamiliar with Erdrich, I half expected it to come to life! In any event, quite enjoyed riding the mysterious wave of this one without knowing where I was going to land.
I agree totally with all three commenters. So I don’t see Dennis Lang as “left field”.
However, I’m a Brit and this seems like a clear Americanism so perhaps I’m not sure what Dennis means.
I see whether we like/dislike the story as being a genre issue. It’s in the nature of this fable genre that the
stone and the interactions with the stone are described in detail, but that the actual personal encounters — Ted, Vic, the siblings — are summarized rather than pictured and brought to life.
So I felt that the author had total control and accomplished what she was trying to do.
I would have preferred a more conventional short story genre where we get to know Vic, Ted, Mariah and the siblings
etc. But that just isn’t the genre and isn’t the story she was trying to write.
I think that, given its genre, the story is extremely strong but I don’t like the genre.
I feel a bit like someone who doesn’t like science fiction, but who is asked to comment on an excellent science fiction story.
Paul Epstein
I don’t much care for this genre either and this didn’t exactly work for me but it was unpredictable and the idea of whether or not a stone is animate, the notion of how many lives/owners it has had, are both interesting ideas. The jumps forward in time had seemed awkward but I think David kind of explain that. Something about jumping into the stones entire history, at the point she does it, didn’t seem very graceful and at times I felt like there was too much freedom here–when you start down the path of fantasy this is a problem as you can seemingly jump anywhere and have almost anything happen.
The fable-y quality of the story is certainly noticeable, but I do think there’s a scientific interaction with the idea of the anthropocene that becomes almost a metacommentary on narrow definitions of “life” or “lifespans.” The folksy Native American vibe twined with the allusive and/or symbolic weight of the analogies, similes, and metaphors gives off the impression that Erdrich is a self-aware author. The tone is knowing, playful, and melancholic all at the same time. It’s not some model-of-the-form short story masterpiece, but it is a leisurely reading experience where you feel like you’re in the hands of an adroit and knowing author. For that, I am thankful.
“A stone is a thought that the earth develops over inhuman time.” This is a most telling line and I might even argue that it holds the key to the story as a whole.
Maybe the stone, to Erdrich and some readers, is an imaginative spirit in animate and inanimate things. It aligns with the art of music,
with love and death in relationship, with time passing and eternal matters. Erdrich, herself, refers to it as “mystery”and “incomprehensible.”
I like that she finds the “elemental mystery”
in something so common and abundant. A bit New Agey but indestructible Buddhist.