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“Thursday”
by George Saunders
from the June 12, 2023 issue of The New Yorker
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[fusion_dropcap boxed=”no” boxed_radius=”” class=”” id=”” color=”#003366″ hue=”” saturation=”” lightness=”” alpha=”” text_color=””]T[/fusion_dropcap]his week we get another story from the master. While I’ve had some issues with the stories of George Saunders over the last few years, I think his last collection won me back, to the point I want to go back and reread the ones that didn’t land for me. But even when I was not on the same wavelength as Saunders’ work, I was always excited to see another appear in the magazine.
I’ve come to think that Saunders’ unique brand of fiction is still unique, even if his stories are almost always easily identifiable as his. They are still, more often than not, powerful and invigorating, unless I go in with an eye focused on finding things too familiarly Saundersesque.
Here is how “Thursday” begins:
On the bright side, it was Thursday.
“Gerard, yes, hi, hello,” said Mrs. Dwyer, the nurse’s assistant sanctioned to hand over the Perlman headpiece and the big green pill and the smaller red one that activates the green one.
“How was the week?” she asked.
“Same,” I said.
“Oh, gosh, sorry,” she said.
In Treatment Room 4, she checked with the caliper to make sure the pressure foot of the Perlman was seated correctly.
It was.
This is familiar, but I begin with excitement rather than wariness! Please feel free to leave your thoughts below.
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(SPOLIERS within)
To debrutalize the real, therein lies the hope in most Saunders stories, so in terms of transporting his reader into a mindset via a first-person narrative, he’s on his game here. Memory, the mind, what makes us human, the individual vs. the species, an attempt to be almost beatifically non-judgmental; these form his worlds’ version of the “humane,” which is almost always mediated or infringed upon by futuristic technology that is of course commenting on the tech we already have.
The low and volatile milieu of the Ray Carver story that Saunders mostly glosses over (the actual familial fracas) is a masterclass achievement of elision.
The return to sites of inception (of personalities, of familial schisms, of how we are formed by the nurture and nature that proceed us) is a bit pat, and Saunders layers on the pummeling thing with far too thick an impasto. It’s the weakest part of the story (even in callback) so I wasn’t surprised when he said in the Q&A with Treisman that it was grafted on from an earlier abandoned story.
GS’s moving through time (and multiplicity) is extreme deft, though. It’s hard to write this type of story in a way that the audience can follow what’s going on and yet still be moved by the impresario-like manipulations of the storyteller.
Saunders continues to be a word maestro and someone who uses structure to upend reader expectations in exciting ways. The speeding through of the two main characters’ adulthoods felt a tad bit rushed based where they were placed in the story. Otherwise, the big-picture structure is pretty damn impressive. The rug-pull of just how severe the slippage is, the distance between Gerard and David, that’s neatly accomplished by GS.
Mrs. Rita Dwyer and Horace become the unintentional villains with their implants and their manipulations of humans just slightly older and more enfeebled than themselves, a pithy and insightful take on how exploitation really works. Non-didactic, evocative. Overall, an accomplished piece, for sure.
I’m surprised to find only one comment on this story, because, to start with, it is George Saunders, and further because it is a good story. At least I very much enjoyed it. I had read it, then a second time, and then yesterday listened to Saunders reading it on the New Yorker site while I raked leaves.
What a difference, each time, the second reading knowing what I didn’t know the first time until well into the story, and the new experience of listening to Saunder’s fine reading, that being much better and more expressive than most I’ve heard reading their own stories.
I won’t worry about spoilers this time. Sean has warned us above (although I hardly think we need have much feared reading his comments on that account!), and if I am to comment as I wish to, there will be critical spoilers. If you haven’t read the story already, I personally advise you that reading what I say from here will cheat you of the experience I had from my first read, one Saunders surely wanted us to have.
This story reminds me of others I’ve read (I don’t recall what they were) which similarly depicted feeding other people’s memories into people’s brains. I seem to recall there was a New Twilight Zone episode about this. I also read a story by T C Boyle about a machine which allowed you to relive your own memories. So this not a new idea, but I think Saunders used it effectively.
What is it to be, and be aware of being, as independent of experience, memory, and identity?
Until maybe a third of the way through the story, the narrator seems to be experiencing the memories that have been introduced to Gerard’s brain as if oblivious to Gerard’s “experience-memory-identity” (here on I’ll call it “e-m-i”). Is this a feature of the technology being used in these memory sessions?
It isn’t until after the technician Mrs. Dyer interrupts the session that Gerard experiences any e-m-i confusion: “David? I wondered. Who’s David?” From here on in the story and Gerard’s life, his e-m-i is partially that of David, which he cannot undo.
So now the e-m-i of Gerard and some of David are experienced simultaneously by the aware being we call Gerard. A moment that stands out for me is when he is aware that the e-m-i of David is judging Gerard. Consequently, Gerard sees himself differently, for which I think he was grateful. And it affects his future actions, also for the better. All ironic, considering the nefarious purpose that brought these changes about…
There’s so much more still to come, as well as to the story up to this point, which hasn’t been revealed in this post. Far from spoiled, I recommend you read it! If others respond to this discussion, I expect I’ll come back and join you for the rest of the story!
Now, I’ll speak particularly to you, Sean:
I wonder what Raymond Carver story you are referring to. Maybe it’s one of those I read similar to Saunders. It’s been a while since I read Carver.
I agree with a lot if what you say here. But wow! You are more critical of Saunder’s writing in this story. I felt it was well written, the narrative and message delivered successfully. It would be a strain for me to find so much fault!
Reference to the influence of upbringing (I take it you mean Gerard’s/David’s?) was “a bit pat”? Likewise, their adulthoods “felt a tad bit rushed”? To you, not to me. Seems to me enough for the story, I get the picture. It’s not a novel.
It did seem odd to me that “pummelling” was mentioned so much, but I think that’s because the word is odd in my experience of its usage. I figure it was intended to be a word commonly used in the future for beating, domestic violence. I take it that practice was “thick” in David’s experience.
My opinion: we would do well to notice when we are setting up certain expectations upon what we read, then judging the writing and writer on the basis of those prescriptions. Better, it seems to me, to read without prejudice, and allow the writing (story, style, etc.) to be what it is, even to adapt to it and receive what it offers.
Having said that, I admit that I also experience a sensibility for criticism, and feel there’s something in it. I do often judge writing as poor by a standard *I hold, not being trained to criticize according to any formula that happens to be in vogue. However, I’m more and more inclined to view my reading as I stated above. The reader needs to adapt to the writing.
So, Sean:
Case in point: I’m adapting to your style of writing. It seens very unusual to me. Your choice of words and phraseology are not like what I’m accustomed to, although I take their meaning. Is English your first language? This is not an insult, I simply wonder where your style comes from. Maybe it is simply personal to you. But it would/does require others (not only me, I’m sure) to adapt as readers. Which is okay! (with me, at least.)
Anyway, I’m inspired to read more Saunders. I’ve read the collection Tenth of December (I was crazy about the title story!), the novel Lincoln in the Bardo, and various stories. (Typical, right?) Any recommendations?