“Hinges”
by Graham Swift
from the November 21, 2022 issue of The New Yorker
I have been really enjoying Graham Swift’s work over the past several years, and I’m glad we’re still getting regular stories and books from him.
One morning in April, their father, Ted Holdroyd, suddenly died and a few days afterward Annie and her older brother, Ian, both still a little dazed, went to see the minister who, as Annie put it, was going to “do” their father’s funeral. There was surely some better word than “do,” but Annie couldn’t, for the moment, think of it.
I hope you’re all having a nice November, easing into the end of the year. Please let me know what you thought of this story in the comments below.
This is such a somber story. But it slightly uplifts in its contrast between mortal human beings reaching their expiration date and words; which have no spirit or life, only definitions, which can be quarreled over but overall, can exist far longer than any existing life form. True, words die if they are never used, thought of, spoken, seen or looked at. And like their surrounding family; sentences, they often create doubt as to ill intent, proper use or proper interpretation by readers, writers or listeners.
Perhaps the true theme of this story is that when difficult to confront death occurs, the right words either disappear or it’s almost impossible to find one suitable for one’s use or one that keeps to its most agreed upon definitions or ably describes a person, place or thing or even a life. Some readers might have other theories.
Annie and Ian and the minister leading the funeral for their father, Ted Holdroyd, and even their mother who has trouble confronting the death of her husband are challenged in thinking of adequate words to describe what’s on their minds or for whatever task they are undertaking. Even though this is a very British story, the thoughts and feelings of these characters are universal, in general and in even in their precise, specific detail.
The hinges title seems a little obscure except if it mirrors or symbolizes the sometimes faulty ability of the mind to sort out the significance of one’s or a loved one’s life. This is especially so if the life itself seems humdrum or lacking in observable meaning.
The beauty or fragile minimal optimism of this story is that words can accurately state and truthfully manifest one’s life or state of mind in fictional form or the thoughts and feelings of actual children on and after the death of their father. So it’s somberness is relieved and possibly we feel a little better from how we felt after the first sentence.
I’m going a bit crazy upon re-reading this story – Was their mother present at the meeting with the minister or not?
“Their mother, who was present” and then a few lines later “Their mother had decided not come with them to meet the minister.”
Swift then makes it a point to remind the reader several times about the mother’s absence. Am I missing something?
I’m going a bit crazy upon re-reading this story – Was their mother present at the meeting with the minister or not?
“Their mother, who was present” and then a few lines later “Their mother had decided not come with them to meet the minister.”
Swift then makes it a point to remind the reader several times about the mother’s absence. Am I missing something?