After three series focusing on a central author, Short Stop is taking a bit of a turn for the next run. Sometime last year, I found a copy of “The Vintage Book of Amnesia” that was compiled and edited by Jonathan Lethem. The theme is simple. He looks at authors throughout time and explores how they approach the subject of memory. Whereas previous series focused on exploring a writer finding their voice, I thought that it would be interesting to try and find something more thematic across the centuries. It’s a lengthy ordeal and one that will probably have more highs and lows than ever before. The hope though is finding a few diamonds in the rough that are worth committing to memory.
If I was more coordinated, I’d start a drinking game around this book. For the umpteenth time, Lethem has chosen an excerpt from a novel to symbolize his point. This isn’t exactly a terrible way to go, but it does create a struggle to assess the art on its own terms without larger context. While I think “Dream Science” is still the worst offender of excerpt ambiguity, L.J. Davis’ “Cowboys Don’t Cry” has an interesting middle ground. On the one hand, I think that one can capably determine what is going on within the few pages offered here. However, I think there’s still enough missing that I’m left disappointed. What is the greater intent here? What does the title “Cowboys Don’t Cry” have to do with the protagonist, let alone that he’s on an airplane in the least buckaroo situation imaginable?
With all of this said, Lethem’s one success is picking a narrative that I’m genuinely curious to pick up and read. When I got to the end, I was so enthralled with the action that I had to know what would happen next. On its own, I’d argue it still works as a short story, but maybe in a dishonest way. The lack of knowledge as to whether “Clark Kent” as he’s named is really Superman or not is a fun gimmick. I am left wondering if he jumped out of the plane or if he’s currently being mauled by stewardesses. There’s little doubt that it’s the latter, but Davis doesn’t give the reader enough to think otherwise – let alone what makes him capable of the Superman alter ego.
To backtrack a little bit, I think another brilliant thing about how Lethem has laid this out is how it follows “Soul Walker.” Given that it ends with the protagonist rushing to get on a flight, I like this small subconscious continuity. There is a sense of progression even if these are very different works in very different genres. Whereas “Soul Walker” exists within the existentialist study of spiritualism, “Cowboys Don’t Cry” is a farce. Any reference to higher beings, notably Jesus Christ, is done solely for comedic effect. Again, I’m not sure what it all means, but Davis’ condensed writing has me very curious to know how the satire travels from here.
Part of me was intrigued by the opening paragraph. As Davis reveals the protagonist’s name as Clark Kent, I’m immediately thrown into the theorizing world as to whether this is THE Clark Kent or I’m just used to Superman’s alter ego. Given how omnipresent he’s been in pop culture, I don’t fully discredit the idea of people writing this type of fiction about him. I wouldn’t understand how he fits into the world of memory loss, but then again he has supervillains like Brainiac and Bizarro who actively work to mess with our understanding of reality. Anything feels possible before the story is even a quarter page long.
For what it’s worth, I am fascinated with the idea of this being the real Clark Kent. As someone who is self-sufficient and can fly himself around (likely faster than this airliner), it makes no sense. Maybe he’s traveling with somebody – only they’re never properly addressed in the text if true. He’s there seemingly alone, maybe under wraps from somebody on his tail. Like other stories, this one paragraph is playing with my sense of reality and identity in such a way that I cherish the ambiguity. I so desperately want him to be Clark Kent, but at the same time I am not used to him outside of the comic frame. This cannot be right, can it?
With that said, there’s something amusing about thinking of Clark Kent hungover. There is a good chance that he went on such a reckless bender that the world around him is officially destroyed, but maybe it’s something more mundane. Maybe he’s a passive drunk who simply passes out when he’s had too much.
Whatever the case may be, this story will take place almost exclusively in an airplane bathroom. There is an intimacy to that room that can be unnerving. One cannot escape an airplane, which in the worst situation can be claustrophobic. There’s a self-awareness of how helpless you are several miles above ground and the rumbling motors can make others feel clasped in. With people surrounding you at any given moment, it makes sense to want to escape. Even then, the bathroom is such an artificial and sterile room that is almost inhuman. No room feels as unsafe on a plane as the bathroom, and yet it’s the only place to be alone.
Despite being a straightforward narrative, Clark Kent spends a lot of time wandering around the bathroom. He’s somewhat injured and looking way too ridiculous to open the door. It’s hard to know what exactly happened, and yet he can’t consult others for help for reasons that aren’t clear.
A detail that is compelling is Davis’ decision to have the first interrogator be a priest. In one of the funniest exchanges in the book, Clark Kent mutters “Jesus Christ” at his bafflement of the priest trying to save him from sin only to have said priest think that God is already working his magic.
The truth is that I still am not sure why this figure exists in the narrative. At most he helps to push more trivial features to the forefront. The reader becomes aware of how trapped Clark Kent is in his position. They notice that he’s not exactly normal looking. And yet, he’s stuck in a frustrating conversation. Everyone knows that he must leave the bathroom eventually, and yet his procrastination only makes things worse. Again, I’m not sure why he’s not prone to just leave outside of the fact that Clark Kent must be hiding something.
As a result, the staff are called over and force him to leave. The comedic nature starts to turn into something more existentialist as the stewardesses begin to ask for identification. After so much time wondering if this is a world where Superman exists, it’s fun to have characters actively acknowledge that they’re not only aware of him, but The Man From Krypton is probably a fictional character. At least, that’s the most practical given they know his hidden identity without prompting. Many have tried to board flights with false identities, so this sounds like a fun take. If this man is not Clark Kent, then he chose the least convincing moniker imaginable. Everyone is going to question his legitimacy.
Despite being disappointed that the story basically just ends, I do love how the final pages play out. Having been cornered, this drunk man is forced to confront some awful truths. He’s beyond a simple slap on the wrist. He’s now either going to have to accept arrest or make a break for it. It’s alluded to throughout the text that he could catapult into the sky, but the reader still doesn’t know how practical that would be. Part of me assumed this was a riff on the D.B. Cooper scenario, but the thought of Clark Kent wanting something makes the parallels insensible. There’s little here to suggest anything supernatural is about to happen.
Alas, that means this is the ravings of a drunk. If this fits the theme of memory loss in any way, it’s that he’s forgotten human decency. Along with an idea of where he was prior to this, Clark Kent is unable to simply follow protocol. Had he just sat down and accepted that he looked ridiculous, maybe he’d get to his destination without any problem. Instead, he’s so bereft of an identity that he can’t even follow human rules. He’s left without anything to lose, and it results in him in a humiliating state.
But the finale may be among the most memorable that Lethem has pulled yet. Given everything that preceded, there is the final ounce of speculation that maybe this crazy man isn’t crazy. A stewardess declares “Shazam!” before Clark Kent suggests that the saying impacts Captain Marvel and not Superman. While doing this, he unzips his pants and leaps forward. From there, it’s up to the reader’s imagination. However, I think the image is so absurd that I love the idea that this is how the world discovers Superman. He’s zooming out of plane in a fairly reckless manner. That, or a crazy man is running around in his underpants.
I want to love this story more, but it feels like a piece of a larger text, and it bothers me how it keeps certain things from really clicking together. As much as I like the idea of comically exploring amnesia in this clever way, I want something more concrete to ground everything. There’s nothing to really suggest that Clark Kent is real or fake. He’s a man bereft of any larger connection. I don’t like that. For as uproarious as the final page is, I’m left underwhelmed that this is it. Not enough is said to make me go back and pull threads. It’s true that it makes me want to read the larger text, if just to understand how this guy is a cowboy, but otherwise I don’t think this works in isolation of its greater meaning.
Coming Up Next: Walker Percy’s “The Second Coming”
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