“Rainbows”
by Joseph O’Neill
from the October 5, 2020 issue of The New Yorker
I don’t know about you, but I could definitely use a story called “Rainbows” right about now. I’m not sure O’Neill will deliver the pleasant respite and sign of hope that I mean when I say that, but thanks be to him for even titling his story “Rainbows.”
The story does have an opening paragraph I find oddly compelling. I’m not sure if it’s the rhythm or what, but I do find this welcome.
I came to this country — from Ireland, at the age of twenty-three — unaware of the existence of mentors. I’m certain that I had never heard the world “mentee.” The words in Ireland were not exactly the same as the words in America. When a classmate told me that she was going to meet her “mentor,” I had to ask her to explain. In America, she informed me, there was a social practice in which an older, experienced person donated time and knowledge to a younger, relatively foolish person in order to help the latter better understand the world’s perils and pathways. I was filled with a suspicion that bordered on disbelief. I probably said, “Ah, go away.” Ireland has changed, everyone tells me, and maybe this sort of suspiciousness is no longer current. I doubt it, however.
I hope you’ll find time to read the story and offer your thoughts below! I hope you’re well, wherever this may find you!
The New Yorker’s near-constant need to litigate the embers of the #MeToo era in its fiction selections is rather irksome at this point. I get that individual authors are apparently interested in this subject as well, but the lack of diversity, topically, in their fiction, is notable at this point. It feels like every other issue there something about harassment or its various bedfellows.
The elements here are thus a little predictable but O’Neill keeps it literary and blurs things enough to be engaging at least. Who is the victim? Is there a victim at all? Was it better back in the day when people weren’t squealing to authorities all the time and ratting out their fellow citizens (often a white person ratting out a minority) for breaking minor laws and rules?
Clodagh the cowardly narrator’s shame-exhilaration mix over how pathetic and defensive she’s become and not wanting to confront her former mentor and then wanting to is a nice reconnect that also exposes an aspect of character (OCD traits and a pathological lack of restraint/individualism).
“So how has your life turned out” is a question very consistent with Paola’s character. She’s a mature person whose worldview hasn’t changed as Clodagh is an immature one still desperate for guidance/sanction.
The folktale/mythic cities thing is a nice bit of the ol’ Irish strange imported into a contemporary American context. Time storms onward. Paula remains cool, even cold and emotionless, a representation of logos, Clodagh remains warm, overemotional, a representation of pathos, and Mrs. Wang, of course, is the avatar of ethos. James’s implied resilience and the varying levels of the three subsets all achieving some version of the “American dream” is impressively dealt with in O’Neill’s avoidance of cliche and didacticism. Paola is free to be childfree and a hip singleton. Clodagh has an upper-middle-class lifestyle and enough money to take her daughter, as a child, on an edifying vacation to her mother’s native homeland. The Wangs work hard and their son is going to make a huge leap up the social climbing ladder in just one generation. The immigrant narrative as pro-American in the most legitimately patriotic way is a nice contrast to the Trumpism portrayed (a bit lazily) by the broad-bodied obnoxious white dudes.
The concluding recollection/flashback is tre New Yorkery and rather pat. Rising up into the title isn’t quite enough to justify it (the ending or the title). O’Neill has better short fiction in the pages of this mag, but this can be filed under a brisk, topical, well-arranged bit of modernity with some well-earned flourishes and deft connections to a larger literary lineage that make it worth one’s time, if far from genius.
Your findings of ambiguity here are interesting. I was rather puzzled by this. It seemed to me almost pat in its optimistic ending where everyone is fine and the only one viewed a bit negatively (by the narrator) is Paola when she writes “I felt sorry for her.” It seemed to say that following the rules in the U.S. makes everything work out and you’ll see rainbows eventually. But….that’s just too stupid of a message for literary fiction yet I couldn’t really see an alternative reading so thanks William, as always. Your readings are always insightful.
I found ”Rainbows” quite frustrating to read. I don’t think there is a need to consider the supposed “blurred lines” of this particular story. Choosing to write about a sympathetic character like James Wang, whose inappropriate actions risked influencing his future, seems to be an appeal to emotion that takes away from the larger issue. Girls should not feel pressured to keep their stories to themselves out of fear of harming the person who initially inflicted the pain. Despite the supposed redeeming qualities of James, and O’Neill’s stereotypical representation of the Wang family, James is still guilty of stalking, harassing, and frightening a high school girl. He may not deserve to be punished forever, but Aoife and her parents certainly have no reason to regret telling authorities. Their actions were completely justifiable.
Overall, I found the message of “Rainbows” troubling. There are millions of girls who have stories similar to Aoife. There are millions of boys who have made this mistake. Some of these boys might have never kissed a girl, might be hard working students, might be wonderful sons. Some of these boys might grow up to be great men. Perhaps that is James’ fate. None of this, however, excuse’s the harassment. Through the “nuanced” details of James’ life experiences, O’Neill attempted to make the reader sympathize. All it did was make me angry. James’ story is not relevant to Aoife’s pain. His story does not make him any less guilty.
I have nothing more to say about O’Neill’s story; only that I find it humorously unsurprising that this flat and offensive female POV was crafted by a man.
I agree with Rachelle in that I found the female pov overdone and almost too brash to be believable – her managerial self-congratulatory style (how sexist am I) seemed much more suited to the guys in the bar car. It was as if I could see the efforts the writer made to create a powerful female consciousness (but would a 23-year-old Irish graduate student really be a follower of Martgiela?) The two wimpy husbands were another overreach..I could almost see the story being written and revised, the effects were that obvious. On the other hand, I liked reading the story! The narration kept me interested, and even though the name James Wang telegraphed the laundry situation, and the weight of the laundry bag was a heavy metaphor for the pain of guilt, it was a delight to read something that moved right along with only one mention of Donald Trump. That one, however, as a “stupid, evil president,” was neat. I mean neat as in exact and exemplary. like the appearance of the creature Aiofe in the story’s most electric paragraph, Like my thinking here, the story was all over the lot, but the rainbows at the end tickled me. So there.
Just a quick thought exercise for Rachelle. Why are you so sure James is “guilty,” to use your words? Because a child accused him? Because you “believe all women”?
You also say “Girls should not feel pressured to keep their stories to themselves out of fear of harming the person who initially inflicted the pain.” Would you also say that white people should not feel pressured not to call the authorities on black people who they suspect are committing crimes/about to inflict pain on them? Would you say “James’ story is not relevant to Aoife’s pain” if Aoife was a rich white lady and James was a poor black boy? Consider: Hey, Aoife felt pain when that black man got in the elevator with her because she thought she was going to be raped or robbed so she called the cops and said “I don’t think this man lives in my building…”
Those “Karens” who call the cops on African-Americans are SURE they’re the victim, same as James Wang’s accuser here. They think those black people are stalking and harassing and frightening them, same as James Wang’s accuser here. Fairness means treating everyone equally. You can’t just blindly believe every accusation. I think O’Neill handles this very well and his characters are not at all stereotypical or two-dimensional. My own dry cleaners are Asian. So are many others. It’s not a stereotype if you make a successful rapper black instead of Russian. Most successful rappers are black. Similarly, if an author has a chess champion who’s Russian and not black, that’s based in reality too. It’s not a stereotype just because it’s commonplace in reality.
I basically agree with Rachelle. However, I think the story would have been improved by seeing at least some of James’s POV. To follow the story from the beginning without having to revise the previous impressions, the reader would have to know that “Clodagh” is a female name. That seems like rather a big ask in a US publication. At the outset, I assumed the narrator was male.
Paul, I really do think that’s why he put in the fashion link. That’s what I meant when I said the revisions showed.
I agree with Paul that the story could have benefited from James’ POV. I’d be interested to know how James felt about the situation in hindsight.
Sean, you are absolutely right that white people sometimes feel violated by black men without good reason. However, a white girl sharing an elevator with a black man and feeling that her safety is threatened feels like a very different thing than what occurred between Aoife and James. Aoife described being stalked by James. James would wait for her at the subway station, find out where she went for lunch and followed her there, and ignored Aoife when she asked him to leave her alone. James also messaged Aoife and, once again, ignored her when she asked him to stop. Not only that, but when Aoife blocked James, he continued to message her through Aoife’s friend’s account. For me, that is enough reason to side with Aoife. Maybe I’m wrong. Maybe Aoife isn’t telling the truth. But I’m not compelled to believe she is lying. I don’t see a reason to believe she has lied.
Rachelle, your “…find out where she went for lunch and followed her there” isn’t justified by the text which says “He started to show up… the food truck where she bought lunch” He did not “follow her there.” In a school environment, there would be few places to eat and nothing unsurprising about them eating at the same place. Rachelle is certainly not “lying” but it is a legitimate interpretation that she may be either exaggerating or misunderstanding or a blend of both — there are only two messages from the friend’s Instagram account for example, and her “missing-panties detail” is thought to be “absurd” by her own mother.
I said “Rachelle is certainly not lying.” I meant that Aoife is not lying. Sorry for the typo. I like Rachelle’s contributions a lot and I agree about 90% with her.