The Watch by Rick Bass

Abstract

72 Western American Literature The Watch. By Rick Bass. (New York: W. W. Norton & Company, 1989. 190 pages, $16.95.) It would be too facile to assign any of the current pop-lit headings to the stories of Rick Bass, though Magic Realism does spring to mind for certain ones, in particular “The Watch” and “Choteau.” Indeed, the entire collection might be called magical if rich and brilliant prose justify the w'ord. All these stories (tales?) are compelling reading for those long malnourished on a bland diet of minimalism. Bass is first of all a poet—his images exact and surprising, his symbolism complex, his timing masterful. And he is very funny. Some visions are unforgettable: a fat former cyclist riding his home-made go-cart through the woods; a crazy old man hiding in a swamp. (“The women . . . stayed back in the trees, frozen . . . the grinning reptiles, the dried fish spinning from the trees—and he explained to them that he had put them there to smoke, for food, for the winter. ‘They smell good,’said the shorter one, heavier than her friend, her skin a deep black, like some poisonous berry.”) Disturbing, haunting—a canvas by Rousseau. The author’s control seems so sure that occasional errors, or a discordant note in the “voice” may be unduly noticeable. Credulity is strained, the magic fails, when we are asked to believe that Buzbee (the old fugitive) and his black harem are digging man-traps in the swamp. How? So far as we know, none of the commune possess even a spoon or a toothbrush, let alone shovels. And Hollingsworth, Buzbee’s son, “had never in his life drunk anything but water.” Yet, earlier, he is shown swilling warm ancient beer from the stock of his “ratty-ass” grocery store. Recurrent themes: The male protagonist has not only an admired side­ kick—often his patron in some way—but a physically and morally repulsive hanger-on whom he treats cruelly but somehow does not really try to ditch. Animals are prevalent—horses, mules, fish, cats, cattle, Gila monsters—used both as individual beings and for shamanistic, sacrificial purposes. Bass is skillful at depicting both men and women; we are absorbed by their quirky but believable behavior. While the tale is in progress we accept their liaisons. Yet no emotional aftertaste remains. Seldom does a real union exist, and thus the reader feels vaguely cheated of catharsis or even a sense of closure. The stories in this collection have been published in prestigious journals and received many prizes, including an O. Henry and the PEN/Nelson Algren Award Special Citation. Such honors are certainly due their author. To open a copy of The Watch is to sit down to a feast. JOAN SANDERS Fairfax, California ...