“Thataway”
by Thomas McGuane
from the May 27, 2024 issue of The New Yorker
It’s always a joy to see a new story by Thomas McGuane! And these days we should absolutely treasure any that show up since who knows how much longer McGuane, at 84 years old, will be publishing stories.
The two sisters were growing old now, but they went on gazing toward Palm Springs from this windblown prairie town as though to Mecca. Each was a widow, Mildred thrice over—her last husband had died after decades of work as a brakeman for the Burlington Northern—and now the sisters, if not on public assistance, were close to it, and, despite their uncertain compatibility, forced to live together in the same house, the house where they had grown up, with a brother whose success had once been the town’s biggest story. Now Cooper lived in Palm Springs, within walking distance of the former home of Lucille Ball and Desi Arnaz, and had among his conveyances a helicopter, with a portrait of him twirling a lariat painted on the side, which he used for visits to the chain of furniture stores he owned. Although, for a time, Cooper’s home town cited him when listing its glories or courting a polluter unwelcome elsewhere, he never came back. He didn’t remember his origins fondly. He remembered being pitied and ridiculed, ashamed of his shiftless parents and their binges.
I hope everyone has a good start to a new week! Please let us know how you felt about “Thataway” (or anything else McGuane related) below! I’ll be back on once I’ve read the story.
When I started this story, I thought it might end up being one of my favorite McGuane stories. I loved the first little section, introducing us to Constance and Mildred, sisters who are probably around McGuane’s own age, living together in the same home they grew up in, spouses long gone. Their only other sibling, a brother named Cooper, ignores them and their poverty while he lives it up, resenting his small-town upbringing.
This sentence is just about perfect, I think:
I wasn’t as interested, though, after Mildred died and we introduced Cooper, who more or less takes over the story.
I’m not saying I disliked it. Likely it was just a matter of what interested me most. I wanted to get to know these sisters better. It’s possible with some more thought — including exploring the role Bonny, Cooper’s documentary-making daughter from a fling — some enticing connections will come about that help me appreciate the story more.
I did always like the writing, though. McGuane’s facility with a meandering sentence really appeals to me.
The first McGuane story I read was “The Driver” from the New Yorker, which I thought was great—even though I later read a *negative review of the story, which I found unreasonable (okay, I was about to use the word “nonsense”!). I’ve read others of his I very much liked. I intend to read his collection, _Cloudbursts_ .
I too started out expecting to like “Thataway”, until it got into too many fine details about characters that didn’t much interest me. I tried listening to McGuane’s reading, but found it uninspiring, and I fell asleep on it.
I suppose I could give it another try (does anyone think i should?), but I’ve lately been reading so many great stories from collections by such writers as Vladimir Nabokov, Nadine Gordimer, Luigi Pirandello, Frank O’Connor, and (yes) Alice Munro …, that I’m disinclined to take the time.
Eddie, you don’t need to re-read this. It’s perfectly pleasant, quirky, fun but compared to the heavy-weights you mention it’s hardly worth the effort. I agree that Cooper is not as interesting of a character and veers into caricature at points as in his “parade” around the town.