The Story Within Stories

As people flooded the small auditorium, you could feel the excitement in the air. Seventy-five percent were students, with an eagerness to learn—their notebooks at hand and a sincere enjoyment to attend this momentous event resting on the tips of their tongues. The other twenty-five percent were teachers, authors, and sponsors I suppose; their presence is what made this night feel official with their stately clothes and worn faces.

Whispers buzzed all around me, like a contagious disease. I arrived very early—an hour early. One hour passed and the room fell silent, a tall woman with brown, wavy hair, a black dress and high heels gracefully made her way to the front and behind a wood podium. Her lovely voice carried briskly through the stuffy room while she welcomed the now full auditorium; and with a smile draped across her face as she announced the author that had come to read his newest work. “Please help me welcome…Percival Everett.”

A close friend and fellow author, Richard Bausch then introduced Everett with a few remarks and finally. Everett timidly walked behind the intimidating, large podium with his head hanging low. After a stern look at the table on the podium, as if he was gathering his thoughts, he lifted his head for all to see his countenance. I saw sorrow, pain, and grief through the lights of his eyes, the lines that framed his face, and the weight in his lips. His mocha skin was creamy and soft, but his touch seemed cold and full of fear.

Everett chose “The Water Cure” as the title of his newest novel. The author began by explaining to his eager audience the non-traditional, non-sequential style in which he wrote the book. Then he read. I noticed the silky, calm sound of Everett’s voice immediately. I believe that one of the most amazing experiences I have ever had is hearing this author read his work; he knew exactly how to make the words flow from his pointed lips—the words became meaningful and personal.

The underlying story of the novel consists of a man and the kidnapping and death of his daughter. He tells this story through many other short stories. One tells of a unique shop entitled “Words”. With nothing but doors and walls and a large desk at the end of the room, the shop intrigues a young girl. The child “purchases” words from this shop and each time she receives an empty box. Soon she discovers that the words that she longs to find are only what she creates. The man in the book is said to have told this story to his daughter before she would go to sleep.

During the entire reading I could not follow the many short glimpses into the mind of the man in the story. I divided his reading into eight sections, and named each according to its topic. Some names include, the daughter missing, “x” and “y” killing, and slicing the body in half. Random came to mind first; it was not until I looked back at the titles a few times for me to completely understand that this was truly about the bigger picture—the bigger storyline. When he finished, Everett slowly bowed his head once again and closed the book. He looked reverent, as if he was about to pray. “Are there any questions?”