As usual, George, your response to Munoz's story and to our responses to Munoz's story prompt more...responses! Well, actually, a few thoughts.
One of your responses struck me as deeply true about Munoz's technique: What you called the "cinematic" approach of showing Delfina's actions rather than narrating her internal thoughts, her inner conversation.
I think that the reason why so many of our responses to the story vary across a range of interpretations (just look at the more than 200 comments to the Sunday post!) is that Munoz encourages that with his cinematic storytelling--or maybe I would call it an action-centric storytelling, in which the character's actions and behavior tell us what we need to know, and grant a great deal of space for interpretation.
It can also be seen as a storytelling approach that's against interpretation; there is never an explanation for Delfina's actions (why, so many of us wondered, back and forth with each other, did she change her mind and go to the orchards with Lis?, or , why didn't Delfina make her son return what he shoplifted?), and Munoz deliberately denies himself the perfectly legitimate (and artistically sound and justified) option of providing us with his character's inner thought process. By not letting that into the storytelling, he strips something away, but opens up something else: A space for our own active interpretation of why a person is doing what they're doing.
I'd like to suggest something here, that ties this in with the Cinematic: As I read the story and all of our interesting and thought-provoking responses, I was thinking of the films of Michelangelo Antonioni, who is a master of many things, one of which is the art of the open interpretation.
There are scenes in almost every one of his movies in which characters do things in a scene or across a sequence that never go explained, that may feel impulsive, that we watch and then wonder about: "Now, why did she do that just now? Huh. I have to sit with that." It's precisely what you identified, George, as Munoz's wonderful insight into the way our minds work, how we're influenced/affected by things even when our minds are "quiet."
Another thing that was pretty wonderful in your response, George, that I'd like to point a light on.
Here's your quote, late into today's post, about reading Munoz's story:
"Part of the thrill was watching the way my mind worked with the evidence of the story...I was walking in Delfina’s footsteps and made the same error of judgment she did and I shared her surprise and, even, shame."
That phrase: "Watching my mind work..."
I think that little phrase may be the key to this whole Story Club Thing, and maybe also the key to A SWIM IN THE POND IN THE RAIN. It may really be the key to good creative writing, and definitely for discovery writing. You're actually helping train folks--that may sound too strict, or rigid, but it's really not--on how to watch the mind work while reading and writing. "What am I thinking at this moment?" "Oh, wait, I thought that thing on the previous page, and now, I have to contend with this new information over here, and what do I think about that?" "I had assumed that, but I thought wrong, and I got this" (There's the perfect example in the story where, George, you express surprise that Lis ended up behaving worse than you had expected or hoped for.)
The "annoying" (not really!) way of digesting a story in small pieces in Story Club, stopping, working over what this small piece was doing, and where things were going, all of this is a way of helping us watching our minds working through a story. And for me, all of this is a fantastic exercise in nudging me toward better creative/discovery fiction writing. It's something you discuss at length in your new interview on Barnes & Noble "Poured Over" about how you wrote and re-wrote the stories in LIBERATION DAY.
Oh, my....wowowowowow. I had no idea while posting my comment above that the title of the Hamish McKenzie podcast is THE ACTIVE VOICE: GEORGE SAUNDERS THINKS YOU SHOULD WATCH YOUR MIND.
I guess my mind-watching muscles were working. Just wonderful synergy here...
Thank you Robert for this insightful comment. The refusal to determine the meaning of the story through the text is what I found so interesting about Munoz' style in this story. I commented on this in the previous post by George saying that the author lets the reader fill in the meaning. Funnily for other purposes yesterday I was reading about post-structuralism, which originated in literary theory and is defined by the idea that texts never fully hold the key to meaning, which is in contrast filtered through the mind of the reader. Some authors capitalize on this more than others and I feel Munoz definitely does. Personally, I find approach intriguing and exciting, but I must admit that as a reader I could not help but notice that my mind (of course) craved more certainty and order (what is the meaning of Delfina's actions here and there?). So I think that this writing style is more demanding on the reader and demands more acceptance of uncertainty. Lastly, I would like to note that the story is not totally devoid of internal thought process narration. Throughout the story, and interchanging with the cinematic observation, Munoz does let us know what she thinks (how she feels different from the other women, how she is resolved or remembers her family back in Texas), but it happens so subtly and masterfully that it does not contrast with the cinematic style but kind of fuses with it in a very interesting blend of narration. Is strikes me how different Munoz' way of narrating internal thought from say George's third person ventriloquism. It almost sounds as observable external action, if you know what I mean.
Agree, this story is very open to interpretation. Is interesting how one overlays their subjectiveness ie their life stories over it. I like how George brings us back to the technique of the author so remembering to look at how the magician did the trick not just enjoying how the trick made us feel, think etc Although this is all intertwined. And comes back to watching the mind and seeing what you think where. I love this sort of dissection!
Thank you for this, Robert - your exploration of the way this “cinematic” approach works has opened a lot of doors for me. It’s not just watching the character move through the sequence of actions, but observing our own reactions to the gaps in the story: what is she thinking, sitting on the bench with Kiki after allowing him to keep the toy car, “the Saturday morning going by”? And if we speculate on what she’s thinking, what did the author feed into that speculation?
Some late-to-the-discussion thoughts on the story:
The more I read this story, the more I see it as a story of a marriage--a woman married to an unkind man, a woman who left her family behind because of this man. From the very beginning, she sees herself as different from the other women in the neighborhood, women who love their husbands and who are loved in return:
"When Delfina saw the first shadow rise in defeat, she thought of the private turmoil these other women felt in the absence of their men, and she knew that her own house held none of that."
She does not feel turmoil with her husband gone. She is worried, yes, about money (as the first sentence of the story attests). But: "Delfina was one of them, but her worry was a different sort." So her worry is more than a worry about money. It is worry about her husband and how she managed to get herself stuck in the situation she finds herself in, far away from her mother and sister who told her not to go.
"She was alert to her own worry, to be sure, but she felt a resolve that seemed absent in the women putting out last cigarettes and retreating behind the screen doors." Again, she is not like them. "The longer she held her place on her front steps, the stronger she felt."
So what is this resolve she feels? Why does she feel stronger the longer she sits on the steps?
I'm not certain.
And then there is this: "To have them come back would mean the lull of normalcy, of what had been and would continue to be, just when she was on the brink of doing something truly on her own." And so she is excited to defy this husband of hers, who doesn't like the idea of a wife working. There is more to this than money. There is Delfina feeling her own agency, becoming herself.
Much later, when the foreman who drives her treats her with kindness, there is this:
"she would hold private the detail of the ring on the foreman’s finger. She would hold in her mind what it felt like to be treated with a faithful kindness." So unlike her own husband! This man, who is married to someone else, is a kind man. Delfina wonders what it must be like to be married to someone like that, but she keeps such thoughts to herself.
I'm struck, also, by Delfina's reaction to the sudden knowledge that the car is stolen. She hardly reacts. She steels herself. It's as though she feels the box that she lives inside tightening around her. Here, she finally did something on her own. Until now, she has been hearing advice from her mother, her sister and her husband. But this--this is hers. And she has been defeated.
I see the ending as a defeat: "how a car had driven away slowly, slowly, and on out past the edge of his little hand and out of their lives forever." What now for Delfina? She is trapped, completely. I guess i'm hoping she'll leave her husband and go back to her mother and sister in Texas and begin again. As tough as they've been with her, they love her and send her money when she needs it.
I never made it all the way through all the comments on this story in the last post, so apologies if what I've raised here has been raised before.
Okay, time to listen to the podcast!
I hope you're having a blast George and that it's not too terribly exhausting....
Always great to get your perspective, mary. I was waiting for it, and again, you managed to bring something fresh and interesting to the table. Really appreciate it.
thanks so much, Andrew. It can be hard to keep up around here! So I'm glad I got another chance to weigh in.
And now, forgive me while I continue!
Something else that interests me very much is the story's title. I keep wondering about it. There are times when a title won't come to a writer, and so a kind of trick is to go back into the story and see if there is anything in there that "rings" and that will work. I'm wondering if that's what happened here. I'm not getting anything "extra" from the title. I don't finish the story and then come back to the title and feel, "OH, I get it. Yes. Perfect." Instead, it just sits there, and asks me to come up with my own ideas. I don't want to do that! I want the author to point me to where he wants me to go.
It comes, as you know, from a line that Lis said in the story itself, regarding picking fruit. Certainly, it has the ability to stretch out past that concrete meaning. We can ponder its meaning because it's a mysterious thing to say. Anyone can con you? Anyone can fail the trust test? Anyone can do whatever it takes to get by? I think these all work, but I don't want them all to work. I want something in the title to point directly to the end of the story, to the story's meaning. And i'm not getting that. i'm dog paddling and not getting anywhere.
Hoping others will discuss the title, though it may have already happened in the last post and I missed it.
Thank you for letting me take your reply hostage while I drone on.
Oooooh, I absolute LOVE this title. It's one of my favourite things about the story. A few people talked quite a bit about it in the comments for Session #1, so I'd encourage you to go back and read those.
The one thing I mentioned was how the phrase can be directed toward all the main characters of the story with a unique implication. To explain a little further: in the story, it's directed toward Delfina picking up the work and managing, but it can be directed toward Lis and Kiki from a completely different perspective, and the farm manager as well, even Lis' daughter. Anyone can steal; anyone can be kind. Anyone can do it.
I love the title too – for me it absolutely tied the room together, to put it in Dudester terms. As you say, it opens things out in so many different ways and here I see that as strength rather than weakness. In Delfina's case, she moves through the events of the days making certain decisions. So far I don't think she has actually made any really fatal ones (yes, she trusted Lis and lost the car, but in the process her instincts and tentative life-view have gotten two-fold reinforcement: 1) from the manager's act (= people can be good, and kindness is indeed a quality she is hungry for and if possible will continue to pursue) and 2) from the theft (= Lis, a person with a manner like the sister she dislikes and escaped, has behaved true to Delfina's initial suspicions and screwed her over). But parameters have been set. Lis, an adult whose social conscience should be fully formed, has stolen a car. Kiki, a child whose social morals are still being shaped, has also stolen a car. In letting him keep it, I think Lis positions herself in a fluid in-between place, and by the end of the story I was left wondering (and more importantly caring) which way she'd swing. She might end up stealing too (anyone can do it). She might want to go on building her newfound independence by picking fruit (anyone can do it – or maybe having no car has now excluded that option, in which case not anyone can do it). She might give up and be passive like the other wives (anyone can do that too). And so on and so forth. Many layers!
Em, your comment made me think about a) the equivalence between Kiki (who steals a toy car, which Delifina excuses) and Lis (who steals the real car, which Delfina resolves to recover from), and b) the sentences scattered throughout the story that go some way to drawing a line between what we expect of children vs adults, and their respective understanding of things:
* Children never understand the circumstances, said Lis.
* Her face was clear and open, but the way she said these words stung, as if being from one side or the other meant anything about how easy or hard things could be.
* But her boy didn’t need to know those troubles. ...There was no reason to get him wondering about things he wasn’t yet wondering about.
In the three above, it's clear that Delfina seeks to keep her boy protected from reality, while expecting Lis to better understand reality. And yet, early in the story, and then at the very end, it is Kiki who is expected to have the big answers - to be aware of the big things and understand them well enough to relay them:
*How’s the niño? Is he dreaming about his father yet? That’s how you’ll know if he’s coming back or not.
* Dígame, she said, asking him to tell her a whole story, but Kiki had already taken the little metal car from his pocket and he was showing her, starting from the crook of his arm, how a car had driven away slowly, slowly, and on out past the edge of his little hand and out of their lives forever.
(As an aside, while I was searching for these examples, I came again across this sentence -- She was a girl who did what she was told and Delfina didn’t blame her -- and I found that so poignant, since it is almost as if Irma is Delfina in a way, highlighting the inner Delfina: struggling to do what she should, what she is told (e.g. coming from her mother and sister, and (perhaps) her husband), and what she wants (moving to Cali, getting ice-cream, taking her husband's car)).
Maybe these thoughts also shine a light on the title "Anyone can do it" (...but maybe they shouldn't...)
The more I read about Delfina, the less I’m tempted to ascribe much nobility to her actions. Without judging (after all we’re all made of the same intentions…anyone can do it…) I see her as letting Kiki kee-keep the car because she just can’t say no.
I really like your focusing in on Irma…I think she raises a whole load of questions.
Really good points, Mikhaeyla. Those parallels do shine extra light, and I think they are all part of this moment in flux where Delfina is moving from her own childlike dependence to something new. How far will she have to go to 'understand the circumstances' herself? She still has fractionally more financial security than the other women, but it's very tenuous and she needs ideas. One of the things I like most is how out of necessity she keeps her judgement flexible so she can stay open to all sources and give herself the leeway to move. And she doesn't throw blame or really bitch, not even in the privacy of her own thoughts. Maybe Lis is right when she insinuates that it's a luxury for Delfina to, for example, leave Kiki unaware. Maybe necessity will harden Delfina too. But I don't think so, not completely. People get good breaks and bad breaks but they don't see them as good or bad in the same way. There's a stubborn softness to Delfina that I like to think will protect her going forward.
I'll backtrack and see what i can find. But I gotta say the fact that it can be interpreted so many ways (and in oppositional ways--kind and/or not kind, for instance) is one of the things that I don't care for. I want the author to tell me what he thinks. I don't want to be told that the title can mean, basically, anything. But I'll take a look. Thank you for the push!
It's funny how in here, a book club (and a very specific one at that), we can still find so much diversity in perspective. For me, the multiple meanings/reading are half the fun of reading! And I don't think of it so much as that the title can mean anything, but that it means different yet specific things, depending on the character we're talking about.
I was reflecting today on how good stories show us who *we* are. There’s no way a writer could know this, so a title that encompasses everything (and this, everyone) is the very best type of title.
I appreciate how deep you go in thinking about the title (and the rest). What I love about this story is the respect shown to the reader. It seems to me that what's unsaid is as powerful as what's said, leaving us space to find meaning. And so with the title. For me it's a richer experience to have multiple takes on it. I like works of art, poems etc., that one can go back to, like diving into a deep lake. There is a touch of irony in the title I think, because we learn that not anyone can in fact do it.
Thank you, Cynthia! I absolutely agree that a title is something a reader goes back to and ponders. And takes their own meaning from. That's what reading a story is all about--we come to the story as we are, and we take from it what we find as ourselves, as individuals in one moment in time. The next time we read it, we are a different person and may take something else. The thing about this particular title (to me) is that I found it completely wide open. I did not see the author's hand in there, steering me slightly toward a meaning that I can bounce off of the story. You're right that I can bounce it off of so many layers! But that is my point (and I may be the only one who feels this way). I'd prefer a title with "less bounce"! One that narrows things down a bit for me. One that tells me--oh, this is what the author was doing with that title! Did Munoz mean to have a title that can be interpreted in a multitude of ways? Perhaps. Maybe that's his point. That anyone can do anything if pushed. I can go with that, actually. But does it mean that Delfina has just now learned this? Does it mean that she may "do anything" in the future? I'm not great with this amount of ambiguity. I want things a bit tighter. I want to feel that i am with the writer, nodding my head, saying oh yes, I see why you chose that title now that i've finished the story. Since I didn't get that feeling, I'm left feeling a bit, i don't know, disappointed, I guess. Again, it's probably just me. Others handle ambiguity much better than me! I just think there was a better title in there somewhere, one that would have satisfied me more. Obviously, this one satisfied the author, and that's what counts.
I think as readers we all fall somewhere along the certainty/ ambiguity spectrum. For me the title makes me think hard about the story, even about the phrase itself which is often said glibly without much thought behind it. It's a title that invites interrogation. I feel so blessed to have this forum in which to engage in these granular questions and concerns.
My husband often remarks on how hard it is for me to deal with ambiguity in life, and so it is with my reading of stories (and my interpretations)! We bring ourselves to the page and there's no escaping our inner worlds! (I, too, feel so very lucky to have found this sub stack. Cannot believe that I can get so very microscopic and have others often zoom right in there with me! What a gift!)
"Reply hostage" that's funny. I've been thinking about the title, too. Some people think the work–– work picking fruit for long hours, is something "anyone can do" and have no idea how difficult this labor is, or how food comes to their table, or what the working conditions are like. I'm glad that this story shows the labor. Give the reader an idea of what that might be like.
Yes yes and yes - anyone can pick fruit; anyone can steal your car; anyone can abuse you; anyone can be nice to you. All true. But mostly I think it's the phrase that causes Delfina to let her guard down and decided that yes, she CAN work and earn money. She decides to trust Lis and believe that doesn't have to depend on her abusive husband. She has a shot at freedom. And then Lis drives away and the phrase becomes meaningless because it's not true that anyone can break free. Or is it? As dire as things are for Delfina at the end, she at least had a taste of being self sufficient and that gave me hope. (yes, - my middle name IS Pollyanna. How did you know?)
Dogpaddling around the title is right. I’m actually not a fan of this title. I like that idea too that while readers have quite a bit to say about what a story can and does mean, a title is a compass from the author pointing the way.
I love this, Mary. That feeling of strength has bothered me from the beginning. And she feels her own agency, and then - hands over the keys! I've been there.
I relate to her as well. The more stressed, overworked, and worried a person is...sometimes executive function (don't give a stranger the keys to the car) doesn't lead the way.
Some interesting observations in here, Mary. I enjoy your comments and I'm only just beginning to be able to contribute with Story Club, so why not start here!
I wonder, with your interpretation of Delfina's "defeat" in the orchards and the ending of the story, do you think, then, that the car being driven off of Kiki's hand and "out of their lives forever" represents a closure of sorts? Or a transition in Delfina and her child's lives.
The loss of the Galaxie seems to leave Delfina with no choice but to change forever. So much of Delfina's thoughts and actions are based on money and a lack of it, but also a lack of worry for it. As if she knows it will come at some point. And with multiple mentions of the turmoil of her current situation, I wonder if it the ending means she has no option now but to change her life forever - financially, and by leaving her husband (should he ever return).
Delfina's seeming indifference to Lis stealing her car further supports this - It's almost as if she's resigned herself to a change/transition that she has felt has been coming for some time.
I may not have successfully articulated my thoughts on this but in any case you've opened my eyes to the ending with your thoughts on Delfina's defeat and I thank you for that :)
The image of Kiki driving the car "out of their lives forever" represents a closure to the story on the page only. It leaves us with Delfina, defeated on this one day. The car is gone, her husband is missing, she's estranged from her mother/sister, she's been betrayed. But out of catastrophe often comes change. And i think that is what is coming next--off the page. Delfina is not going to sit there forever. She must continue to move forward, and I think she will. Yes, she is currently trapped and defeated. But...she has seen kindness, she believes in faith. Something's gotta give. (I think perhaps you and I are saying the same things.)
Hi Mary! Insightful comments as always. I have a difficult time reconciling the man with the ring and his “faithful kindness” with a reading of defeat. Things may be hard for Delfina, but there will be a way forward. This particular unpleasantness has driven “out of their lives forever.” There’s a brightness there, to paraphrase from the end of “Where are you going, where have you been?” a brightness even in whet could be considered a dark story.
Along with this (momentary) defeat, i also I feel hope (perhaps?) that this will be the catalyst that shoots her out of this marriage, this life. So there is that to hold on to. The "faithful kindness" that she saw was, to me, a comparison to her own marriage, which is probably not a faithful one and not kind, either.
She came to this place with her husband in the car. I feel a bit the car is a phusical container of their marriage, as they have so few other possessions.
And now the tyrannic husband is gone, and the car as well. Maybe that will help set her free.
There is still money worries, and she better get away before the husband potentially returns.
But maybe it is a good catalyst to make her go now.
She would never herself have “stolen” the car from her husband. And she would not have left the bleak place with the car still standing there.
Mary G, I completely agree with you, that is what I got out of the story. Her life is lived under the thumb of her husband, now he is gone, she can be her own person. Get away from the machismo of the culture. Though I do not think that it is negative at the end of defeat, I see it as a win because she is now her own person and she can move back home with her family. In the story, she says they will never forgive her, I feel that she was forced to move away and her mother and sister were begging her to stay. The foreshadowing at the end with the foreman, sisters always come back in the end, is her going home, in my opinion.
Why has no one touched on all the times she compares Lis to her sister? Unless there was a point, I don’t see why he added it so many times, unless it is showing, by the comment, my husband says, that she is a bit brainwashed by the husband.
Thoughts?
One other thought.... I don't find a need to put in that cars will be towed unless there is a point. Did anyone think maybe the car was towed and Lis was picked up by immigration? And it was just all a coincidence?
The more I think about this story, the more I think Lis and Kiki have shown Delfina that something she might never have considered before--stealing a car and thereby changing her own situation--is possible. (In fact, maybe "anyone can do it"??! Even a four-year-old!) She has clearly missed the opportunity to "steal" her own car (from her husband), but maybe Kiki's pantomime at the end is an encouragement for Delfina to follow Lis's example and get herself and Kiki out while she still can...
I'm an optimist...
(And sorry if there's already a thread discussing this possibility on the previous post--it's difficult to keep up with all the comments...)
When I finished this story, I immediately started to think back to the moment that Delfina sealed her fate and I couldn't find one. I believe her decision to trust Lis is inevitable, and I think she knows that.
She's desperate for money but even more desperate for kindness. Munoz makes that clear. She was starved for kindness, and therefore, vulnerable. However, we get our happy/hopeful ending because Delfina gets kindness from the foreman (the thing she really needed).
Of course the moment with the toy car stood out to me, as well. I knew it was doing a lot of work, but I couldn't name it other than to call it foreshadowing. It's more than that, though. As I think about it, it's the obvious turning point of the entire story. It's when she goes from a passive character to an active character.
I was also very interested in the foreman's ring. I think it's the hope that Delfina needs. My interpretation is that she concludes that since the foreman is married, he's not trying to date her or get something from her sexually, he's just being kind. She doesn't want to tell her husband about the foreman's ring (and therefore altruistic behavior) because her husband might ruin it with some cynical response.
I agree with what you say about her craving kindness. It comes up in the exchange with Lis about loneliness. Delfina doesn't state but thinks that what is worse than loneliness is to live in a house without kindness. She not only wants kindness from others, but wants to give it as well, even it does eventually put her in a serious bind.
I think the "reason," that is the chain of causality here in her seeking and needing kindness more than anything (I totally agree with you and think the story is about that need for kindness) is due to shame. It's all in the phone call with her family in Texas. Shame is a nasty monster. It is why she can't actually ask for the money, hangs up on them, and it explains her state of blank confusion after the call, why she doesn't make Kiki return the car and why she changes her mind. Shame.
That's an excellent point. I would even go further to say that shame is part of what drove her to trust Lis. She was ashamed of her financial dependence on her husband.
But can "Anyone" really do it? I'm thinking about this title and about Delfina trying to find her own power and agency. Her husband is not supportive, her family doesn't want to help, her son is now stealing what he wants since he's not getting enough of what he needs. No wonder it becomes appealing for Delfina to 1) bribe her child and 2) follow a stranger (Lis) who promises she can "do it" for herself - make some money, take control. Well, it turns out to be a con. Her vulnerability gets taken advantage of, yet again. The foreman is a hint of how things could be different. She could perhaps still have a different kind of life, or a life with different kindness. She gets a glimpse. Maybe this glimpse will be the beginning, the opening of a door? Or maybe Delfina can't do it and it's not really true that Anyone Can Do It, and she's stuck, and the title refers to the con.
Is it weird that it could be either? I agree that it could, and my earlier, pre-storyclub self would have said that this is a flaw in the story. I want certainty. But StoryClub has been about making friends with ambiguity. Seeing that stories succeed when either could be true and in fact are true AT THE SAME TIME. It kind of scrambles the mind how both reads work. The title referring to the con is so mean, even hurtful. Yet Delfina finding her own agency is a triumph. So its two extremes and both are possible. Both are true.
Thanks for the reply. And welcome to StoryClub ambiguity! As I learn more and live more I see how many things actually are uncertain, or subject to interpretation, or subject to chance. I find myself adding “-ish” to the end of statements to open the door for things to be a little blurry. I’ve also noticed the most accomplished people I meet are quite humble about their expertise and they too are hesitant to proclaim certainty. Certainty can be a (reassuring) trap. It lets us stop being curious or doubtful.
I have to confess that this poor reader did not catch the prefiguring aspect of the stolen toy car the first read-through. However, I'm convinced that subconsciously it contributed to my certainty that, when she handed over the keys, the real car would be stolen. Love it when the mechanics of a story disappear into the narrative.
Makes me wonder at what point the author realized he needed this scene--the stolen toy car scene. I should have asked him! What's pretty amazing is how directly on the nose it is--kid steals toy car/woman steals real car--and yet it's written with such subtlety that we skip on past it. Our minds are focused more on Delfina's mothering right then, on her exhaustion, on her money problems. The stolen car gets lost in our minds--but you're right, we are then primed for later, when the real car is stolen. I think it's pretty amazing he was able to do this. In a lesser writer's hands, it all would have been way too obvious.
That's the question I sent in for Manuel, that is, when did he add the toy car scene? Was it part of the original concept of the story or did it occur to him later? Hopefully, we'll get an answer from him.
I tried to say that in a comment about it’s potential to be a clunky comparison, but you’ve explained it more gracefully than I could, Mary. Well said.
I'm curious, and should have asked the author, whether we were meant to realize the car would be stolen when she handed the keys over. I immediately thought "uh oh, here we go," but perhaps other readers were surprised later? That is, did I get ahead of the author, or was I right where he wanted me to be?
I thought Lis was meant to give us a creepy feeling, even when they first met, she was causing tension. I didn't see Lis taking the car in advance, but I thought she was going to do something.
I really enjoyed your talk in Brooklyn last night, George. It was fun finally seeing you in person. I might add that I met some really wonderful George Saunders fans. We signed each other's LD books like you would a yearbook. And I did what I could to tout the gift that is Story Club. Happy trails!
After a careful second reading of this story, my feeling is that the personal change that Delfina is undergoing is the real story here, and that the events are the supporting evidence for that. This could be called a coming of age story for her.
The opening line is that her “immediate concern was money,” and, by the end, to get money, she had to overcome her husband’s refusal to allow her to work, as well as her tendencies toward complying with what other people told her to do because she was worried what they would think about her. “When Lis was pushing her toward going to the orchard to work, Delfina said “I don’t know,” and“knew she could not say that more than twice and she steeled herself to say no.”
Delfina thought of the other women in the community as defeated shadows, who believed that nothing could change until the men arrived home. Internally, she didn't agree, and although she was aware of her own worry about money, she “felt a resolve” that the other women didn't seem to have, which strengthened the longer she sat on the front steps and watched them.
Delfina experiences conflict about the changes she wants to make, which is normal. There are numerous points in the story where she worries about what people will think of her, and her actions remind her of this painful conflict. She is going to have to move past what others think if she doesn’t want to be one of the deferential “shadow women.” Her sister and her mother represent this conflict; if she isn’t going to be dependent and deferential, she is going to have to move away from her unkind family as well as her unkind husband. Hanging up the phone before her sister starts talking to her is one small, but potent action toward moving toward self-reliance. And, when she discovered the car her son had stolen and took it away from him, he "was inconsolable and the Saturday shoppers along the sidewalk stopped to look in their direction, Sssh, she told him, and...slipped it back into his pocket." Change isn't linear, and there are backslides.
The telephone conversation with her mother indicates how Delfina has been taught to feel about herself—her mother thinks she only wants money (maybe she keeps hoping for something more satisfying from her family, although she does ask for money), and has her own story about why Delfina should have stayed in Texas, which cuts down Delfina’s desire for making her own decisions and living her own life. Delfina acts in a small but potent moment of resistance when she hangs up the phone while her mother is bringing her sister to talk to her, and, unplanned, she has failed to ask for the money she wanted. She's going to have to live without it for now. And…Delfina is paying for the call with her own small change of dimes.
Lis, as unlikable as she is, is offering a roadmap for Delfina to follow (a way to work, get money, and move forward from being treated unkindly), with her remark that "It's easy but hard at the same time. Anyone can do it. It's just that no one wants to." It's unfortunate that she is planning to use Delfina to finance her own roadmap by stealing D’s car and the money she earns, but, intentionally or not, she has set up Delfina for moving forward. The car and the road map are metaphors for making life changes and feeling conflict at the same time.
At the end of the story, Delfina is moving through her own process of becoming emotionally and financially independent, and the foreman is a beacon of what’s possible, as he represents kindness and money appearing when she needs it if she works and takes action. The fact that he's wearing a ring indicates that independence isn't going to happen through a man. This is reinforcing for her change, even though she may not consciously recognize it.
I think the ladder, which is heavy and unwieldy, with Delphina hauling it around, represents Delfina’s changing situation. Lis uses the ladder, metaphorically being at the top in her position of authority. Delfina isn’t yet at that place. Delfina’s willingness to retrieve the ladder when she’s tired and to help the foreman with it, indicates her goodness and also her willingness to do the work needed to make this change. As they drive, the ladders clatter and shift and settle, a process that Delfina is undergoing internally. I doubt that she will steal and lie, though, to get what she wants as Lis does.
What an exquisitely crafted story this is! Nothing is extraneous, and not all is obvious, making it a story to get inside your mind and make it work. Thanks, George, for finding it, and Manuel Munoz, for writing it.
Jealous of everyone who gets to be at these readings.
Now, onto "Anyone Can Do It."
I touched on the "stolen toy car" scene in my comment on Session #1, so I'll try to keep this short. But After reading a few more times and going through George's take, I noticed a couple more things about it.
One: I think the shift that happens in Delfina when she finds the car in Kiki's pocket turns the story into one about love. Delfina's fraught relationship with her husband, mother, and sister are full of stress and pride. There's a sense in the marriage that Delfina is in survival-mode, and with her mother and sister, a sense of "I'll show them," a reaction to their judgment of her. But all her actions toward her son are born out of love for him and a desire to protect him. I liked what George said about Delfina thinking that their poverty drove Kiki to steal the car. I didn't pick up on that, probably because I'm not a parent and I don't know what it's like to hold that burden in my head. I think there's some truth to that. And I think it helps explain why it's the situation with Kiki—not the judgment coming from her family or the fear/anger/resentment she feels toward her husband—that convinces her to "take matters into her own hands." Once she recognizes that it's what will be best for Kiki, she doesn't need much more convincing.
Two: This is less a statement than a question. One aspect of this scene that stuck with me but ended up overshadowed by the stolen toy, was the moment where she finds Kiki in the toy aisle. Those scattered board game pieces on the floor, and how they seem to be replaced by the dimes, were like oatmeal to my soul. I'm just now giving myself the chance to reflect on that moment in context with the whole story, and it sheds a different light on Delfina and Lis, two people forced to play the same exhausting, oppressive game because of the world they live in, their financial situations, and the relationship they have to the laws/rules of that oppressive society/game. Heavy stuff!
To me, one of the most beautiful and interesting lines in the story takes place in the store. Delfina has just spent money for some ice cream and feels foolish for being so frivolous. Then, "But her boy didn't need to know those troubles. His Saturday was coming along like any other, his father sometimes not home at sundown and always gone at sunrise. There was no reason to get him wondering about things he wasn't yet wondering about." This last line gets me. It is so maternal, this wanting to protect her son from the knowledge of poverty. She is also protecting her son from the knowledge that her father might not be coming home as he always does. She does this by pretending that it is just like every other Saturday.
It is similar to the earlier exchange between Delfina and Lis in which Lis states that "children never understand the circumstance," to which Delfina replies, "No, they don't. I don't think they should ever learn that." The context here concerned loneliness, and how terrible that was (Lis) and (unstated by Delfina) 'just as hard to live in a house with kindness.' Delfina want to insure that her son doesn't have to live in a house without kindness. I get the feeling that she knows that a house with kindness in it, can deal with all the exigencies of life.
Really great points here, Ed. think the line about Delfina sheltering her boy from troubles is something she does to herself too. There’s an initial instinct to be self-protective from Lis about the car snd money. But she takes that risk (for kindness and money, money secondarily I’d argue) and she gets burned. But risking to receive kindness can be very risky indeed. She makes herself vulnerable and gets hurt. But another person is nice to her and wants nothing of her in return. There’s both good and bad in the world. Like the boy’s toy car, it flies off his arm and away from them. The bad flows out. Perhaps it is a turning point where she learns from the burn and is still open to being vulnerable because of the food in the world she’s experienced.
I think this story hinges most on Delfina’s decision to walk into town instead of drive, and also reveals a lot about Delfina and her situation. To me, Delfina deciding to walk instead of drive (because of Lis) and her deciding to go to the fields instead of not are one and the same.
In the story it is explained that she made the decision to walk because she only just refused Lis the night before, and driving past Lis now would’ve made her seem dishonest, more well-off, and/or inconsiderate. Being in a new place (and in a precarious financial situation) we get particularly attuned to how our decisions impact others perception.
Thus I think an underlying driver (no pun intended) of the plot is Delfina wanting to fit in: in the first scene she does what all the other wives do, her husband having been doing what all the other husbands have been doing; she has also recently left her home and her family based on the hope she can find a new, better place to belong. An underlying question she is asking herself is if she has found that place. These questions, and the little decisions she has to make (walk v. drive) add to the stress Delfina is facing, and I think eventually weaken her resolve not to go to the fields, and ultimately contribute to her letting her guard down by handing Lis the keys. She WANTS to be nice, she wants to trust people, she wants to gel in her new community and probably wants to have a friend, and for her son to maybe have a friend in Lis’ daughter. In this way the author paints a picture of being in a precarious spot (both financially and socially) masterfully.
For me, Delfina’s desire to belong is where the title “Anyone Can Do It” comes into play: to Delfina it must almost sound like “everyone does it” when Lis, the welcomer, says it to her, the newcomer.
Herein lies Delfina’s undoing: her desire to fit in gets her to walk, whereas driving would’ve made it easier to avoid Lis, though not her ire, and maybe the disaster Lis brings upon her altogether. On the walk back, again her desire to not make an enemy of Lis (also her desire to not be rude in front of her own son) sucks her into the conversation that results in her going to the fields, but I’ll save the rest of my thoughts on that sidewalk scene for the next post!
But how different a story it could’ve been if Delfina decided to drive! From there, Munoz could’ve gone any number of ways with the story. Maybe the perception of her would’ve come to dominate?
Driving, though, would’ve made it easier to avoid Lis. So driving v. walking is more than just that. It’s about how does Delfina want to portray herself and her family in this new community, and to this community member (Lis) who has welcomed her (even if she had sinister motives.) So maybe Delfina’s mistakes are less about her wanting to fit in and more about her fears: she’s already afraid of sinking further into poverty, of her mother/sister being right, of having to go back to them, of her husband not coming home and also of her husband coming home. All this multiplies because of her son. Now, with her decision to walk instead of drive, she’s demonstrating her fear of not getting off on the right foot in this new community.
TLDR: I’ve gone on a bit here, but to conclude, I think Delfina decides (or at least starts the decision making process that tells her to go to the fields) by ceding to Lis the decision to walk instead of drive. Once she surrenders that power to Lis, it gets a lot harder to say no.
One other aspect to this story which leapt out at me is something I deal with all the time in my day job (I’m a documentary TV/Film producer): the power of “what’s next?” Keeping that basic narrative question alive without recourse to lumbering and often forced ad overworked cliff-hangers is an art; and, Nunez does this so beautifully. Right off, without literally asking a question or blaring it out he has us wanting to know, what is it about Delfinia’s relationship to “her man” that makes her feel different and separate from all the other women on the block. He does these subtle moves all throughout the story; it keeps the energy moving inexorably forward. If, in TV, if the viewer isn’t in a near constant state of wanting to know what happens next, they change the channel. In many (certainly not all) short stories that’s true as well. And this story does it so, so well.
Such great insights about the coins falling on the floor. This event didn't stand out to me before seeing the comments here. It makes me think of an expression in Spanish "Se me cayó el veinte" and it's equivalent in English, "The coin dropped" both of which mean, "I suddenly understood." Could this mean that the moment of the coins falling was Delfina's moment of understanding? Probably too literal an interpretation of that image...but fun to think about.
Sorry to pop this in the middle of the discussion of "Anyone Can Do It," (oh, the irony) but is anyone else having the problem of trying to "like" a comment and can't? Sometimes I can but today, for example, I'm clicking away on the heart of so many of your great comments and nothing is happening...
Erica, when it happens to me and I refresh the page the like is usually there. It's the second most annoying glitch imho, just behind the way comments track in here, which grows past unruly into absurd right around the tipping point of engaged conversation!
That's happened to me. I can't figure it out. It's odd, because the next day, if I go back, it works. Try again tomorrow. Maybe Substack found a way to get us back here, fiddling around. "Let's screw around with the like key, so they have to keep hanging around."
"The internet has been conditioning our minds and influencing the global consciousness in ways that we are only beginning to understand." So true.
Back to the story, which I'm still chewing on. I've been re-reading, thinking about why I didn't like Lis from the beginning, looking at choices the writer made, how Lis was in the shadows, the distance between the two women, the topper was when Lis made a face when she didn't get her way. She's intrusive, this stranger next door. Delfina's choice to trust Lis, or at least take a chance on her, is because: Desperation. I've made bad choices when overworked or worried, who hasn't?
I also appreciate the way Munoz described the house and the kitchen–– it had mildew. Say no more. It's a strange place, this rental, that the "landlords" didn't bother fixing up after the old man died, and now Delfina is stuck there with her son. All the descriptions–– not too much, just the right amount, to get me in that world.
As usual, George, your response to Munoz's story and to our responses to Munoz's story prompt more...responses! Well, actually, a few thoughts.
One of your responses struck me as deeply true about Munoz's technique: What you called the "cinematic" approach of showing Delfina's actions rather than narrating her internal thoughts, her inner conversation.
I think that the reason why so many of our responses to the story vary across a range of interpretations (just look at the more than 200 comments to the Sunday post!) is that Munoz encourages that with his cinematic storytelling--or maybe I would call it an action-centric storytelling, in which the character's actions and behavior tell us what we need to know, and grant a great deal of space for interpretation.
It can also be seen as a storytelling approach that's against interpretation; there is never an explanation for Delfina's actions (why, so many of us wondered, back and forth with each other, did she change her mind and go to the orchards with Lis?, or , why didn't Delfina make her son return what he shoplifted?), and Munoz deliberately denies himself the perfectly legitimate (and artistically sound and justified) option of providing us with his character's inner thought process. By not letting that into the storytelling, he strips something away, but opens up something else: A space for our own active interpretation of why a person is doing what they're doing.
I'd like to suggest something here, that ties this in with the Cinematic: As I read the story and all of our interesting and thought-provoking responses, I was thinking of the films of Michelangelo Antonioni, who is a master of many things, one of which is the art of the open interpretation.
There are scenes in almost every one of his movies in which characters do things in a scene or across a sequence that never go explained, that may feel impulsive, that we watch and then wonder about: "Now, why did she do that just now? Huh. I have to sit with that." It's precisely what you identified, George, as Munoz's wonderful insight into the way our minds work, how we're influenced/affected by things even when our minds are "quiet."
Another thing that was pretty wonderful in your response, George, that I'd like to point a light on.
Here's your quote, late into today's post, about reading Munoz's story:
"Part of the thrill was watching the way my mind worked with the evidence of the story...I was walking in Delfina’s footsteps and made the same error of judgment she did and I shared her surprise and, even, shame."
That phrase: "Watching my mind work..."
I think that little phrase may be the key to this whole Story Club Thing, and maybe also the key to A SWIM IN THE POND IN THE RAIN. It may really be the key to good creative writing, and definitely for discovery writing. You're actually helping train folks--that may sound too strict, or rigid, but it's really not--on how to watch the mind work while reading and writing. "What am I thinking at this moment?" "Oh, wait, I thought that thing on the previous page, and now, I have to contend with this new information over here, and what do I think about that?" "I had assumed that, but I thought wrong, and I got this" (There's the perfect example in the story where, George, you express surprise that Lis ended up behaving worse than you had expected or hoped for.)
The "annoying" (not really!) way of digesting a story in small pieces in Story Club, stopping, working over what this small piece was doing, and where things were going, all of this is a way of helping us watching our minds working through a story. And for me, all of this is a fantastic exercise in nudging me toward better creative/discovery fiction writing. It's something you discuss at length in your new interview on Barnes & Noble "Poured Over" about how you wrote and re-wrote the stories in LIBERATION DAY.
I think your way of thinking about this is right on the money, Robert.
Oh, my....wowowowowow. I had no idea while posting my comment above that the title of the Hamish McKenzie podcast is THE ACTIVE VOICE: GEORGE SAUNDERS THINKS YOU SHOULD WATCH YOUR MIND.
I guess my mind-watching muscles were working. Just wonderful synergy here...
Thank you Robert for this insightful comment. The refusal to determine the meaning of the story through the text is what I found so interesting about Munoz' style in this story. I commented on this in the previous post by George saying that the author lets the reader fill in the meaning. Funnily for other purposes yesterday I was reading about post-structuralism, which originated in literary theory and is defined by the idea that texts never fully hold the key to meaning, which is in contrast filtered through the mind of the reader. Some authors capitalize on this more than others and I feel Munoz definitely does. Personally, I find approach intriguing and exciting, but I must admit that as a reader I could not help but notice that my mind (of course) craved more certainty and order (what is the meaning of Delfina's actions here and there?). So I think that this writing style is more demanding on the reader and demands more acceptance of uncertainty. Lastly, I would like to note that the story is not totally devoid of internal thought process narration. Throughout the story, and interchanging with the cinematic observation, Munoz does let us know what she thinks (how she feels different from the other women, how she is resolved or remembers her family back in Texas), but it happens so subtly and masterfully that it does not contrast with the cinematic style but kind of fuses with it in a very interesting blend of narration. Is strikes me how different Munoz' way of narrating internal thought from say George's third person ventriloquism. It almost sounds as observable external action, if you know what I mean.
Now I want to go watch a movie by Michelangelo Antonioni.
Agree, this story is very open to interpretation. Is interesting how one overlays their subjectiveness ie their life stories over it. I like how George brings us back to the technique of the author so remembering to look at how the magician did the trick not just enjoying how the trick made us feel, think etc Although this is all intertwined. And comes back to watching the mind and seeing what you think where. I love this sort of dissection!
Love it. Came here to learn this.
Thank you for this, Robert - your exploration of the way this “cinematic” approach works has opened a lot of doors for me. It’s not just watching the character move through the sequence of actions, but observing our own reactions to the gaps in the story: what is she thinking, sitting on the bench with Kiki after allowing him to keep the toy car, “the Saturday morning going by”? And if we speculate on what she’s thinking, what did the author feed into that speculation?
Some late-to-the-discussion thoughts on the story:
The more I read this story, the more I see it as a story of a marriage--a woman married to an unkind man, a woman who left her family behind because of this man. From the very beginning, she sees herself as different from the other women in the neighborhood, women who love their husbands and who are loved in return:
"When Delfina saw the first shadow rise in defeat, she thought of the private turmoil these other women felt in the absence of their men, and she knew that her own house held none of that."
She does not feel turmoil with her husband gone. She is worried, yes, about money (as the first sentence of the story attests). But: "Delfina was one of them, but her worry was a different sort." So her worry is more than a worry about money. It is worry about her husband and how she managed to get herself stuck in the situation she finds herself in, far away from her mother and sister who told her not to go.
"She was alert to her own worry, to be sure, but she felt a resolve that seemed absent in the women putting out last cigarettes and retreating behind the screen doors." Again, she is not like them. "The longer she held her place on her front steps, the stronger she felt."
So what is this resolve she feels? Why does she feel stronger the longer she sits on the steps?
I'm not certain.
And then there is this: "To have them come back would mean the lull of normalcy, of what had been and would continue to be, just when she was on the brink of doing something truly on her own." And so she is excited to defy this husband of hers, who doesn't like the idea of a wife working. There is more to this than money. There is Delfina feeling her own agency, becoming herself.
Much later, when the foreman who drives her treats her with kindness, there is this:
"she would hold private the detail of the ring on the foreman’s finger. She would hold in her mind what it felt like to be treated with a faithful kindness." So unlike her own husband! This man, who is married to someone else, is a kind man. Delfina wonders what it must be like to be married to someone like that, but she keeps such thoughts to herself.
I'm struck, also, by Delfina's reaction to the sudden knowledge that the car is stolen. She hardly reacts. She steels herself. It's as though she feels the box that she lives inside tightening around her. Here, she finally did something on her own. Until now, she has been hearing advice from her mother, her sister and her husband. But this--this is hers. And she has been defeated.
I see the ending as a defeat: "how a car had driven away slowly, slowly, and on out past the edge of his little hand and out of their lives forever." What now for Delfina? She is trapped, completely. I guess i'm hoping she'll leave her husband and go back to her mother and sister in Texas and begin again. As tough as they've been with her, they love her and send her money when she needs it.
I never made it all the way through all the comments on this story in the last post, so apologies if what I've raised here has been raised before.
Okay, time to listen to the podcast!
I hope you're having a blast George and that it's not too terribly exhausting....
Always great to get your perspective, mary. I was waiting for it, and again, you managed to bring something fresh and interesting to the table. Really appreciate it.
thanks so much, Andrew. It can be hard to keep up around here! So I'm glad I got another chance to weigh in.
And now, forgive me while I continue!
Something else that interests me very much is the story's title. I keep wondering about it. There are times when a title won't come to a writer, and so a kind of trick is to go back into the story and see if there is anything in there that "rings" and that will work. I'm wondering if that's what happened here. I'm not getting anything "extra" from the title. I don't finish the story and then come back to the title and feel, "OH, I get it. Yes. Perfect." Instead, it just sits there, and asks me to come up with my own ideas. I don't want to do that! I want the author to point me to where he wants me to go.
It comes, as you know, from a line that Lis said in the story itself, regarding picking fruit. Certainly, it has the ability to stretch out past that concrete meaning. We can ponder its meaning because it's a mysterious thing to say. Anyone can con you? Anyone can fail the trust test? Anyone can do whatever it takes to get by? I think these all work, but I don't want them all to work. I want something in the title to point directly to the end of the story, to the story's meaning. And i'm not getting that. i'm dog paddling and not getting anywhere.
Hoping others will discuss the title, though it may have already happened in the last post and I missed it.
Thank you for letting me take your reply hostage while I drone on.
Oooooh, I absolute LOVE this title. It's one of my favourite things about the story. A few people talked quite a bit about it in the comments for Session #1, so I'd encourage you to go back and read those.
The one thing I mentioned was how the phrase can be directed toward all the main characters of the story with a unique implication. To explain a little further: in the story, it's directed toward Delfina picking up the work and managing, but it can be directed toward Lis and Kiki from a completely different perspective, and the farm manager as well, even Lis' daughter. Anyone can steal; anyone can be kind. Anyone can do it.
I love the title too – for me it absolutely tied the room together, to put it in Dudester terms. As you say, it opens things out in so many different ways and here I see that as strength rather than weakness. In Delfina's case, she moves through the events of the days making certain decisions. So far I don't think she has actually made any really fatal ones (yes, she trusted Lis and lost the car, but in the process her instincts and tentative life-view have gotten two-fold reinforcement: 1) from the manager's act (= people can be good, and kindness is indeed a quality she is hungry for and if possible will continue to pursue) and 2) from the theft (= Lis, a person with a manner like the sister she dislikes and escaped, has behaved true to Delfina's initial suspicions and screwed her over). But parameters have been set. Lis, an adult whose social conscience should be fully formed, has stolen a car. Kiki, a child whose social morals are still being shaped, has also stolen a car. In letting him keep it, I think Lis positions herself in a fluid in-between place, and by the end of the story I was left wondering (and more importantly caring) which way she'd swing. She might end up stealing too (anyone can do it). She might want to go on building her newfound independence by picking fruit (anyone can do it – or maybe having no car has now excluded that option, in which case not anyone can do it). She might give up and be passive like the other wives (anyone can do that too). And so on and so forth. Many layers!
Em, your comment made me think about a) the equivalence between Kiki (who steals a toy car, which Delifina excuses) and Lis (who steals the real car, which Delfina resolves to recover from), and b) the sentences scattered throughout the story that go some way to drawing a line between what we expect of children vs adults, and their respective understanding of things:
* Children never understand the circumstances, said Lis.
* Her face was clear and open, but the way she said these words stung, as if being from one side or the other meant anything about how easy or hard things could be.
* But her boy didn’t need to know those troubles. ...There was no reason to get him wondering about things he wasn’t yet wondering about.
In the three above, it's clear that Delfina seeks to keep her boy protected from reality, while expecting Lis to better understand reality. And yet, early in the story, and then at the very end, it is Kiki who is expected to have the big answers - to be aware of the big things and understand them well enough to relay them:
*How’s the niño? Is he dreaming about his father yet? That’s how you’ll know if he’s coming back or not.
* Dígame, she said, asking him to tell her a whole story, but Kiki had already taken the little metal car from his pocket and he was showing her, starting from the crook of his arm, how a car had driven away slowly, slowly, and on out past the edge of his little hand and out of their lives forever.
(As an aside, while I was searching for these examples, I came again across this sentence -- She was a girl who did what she was told and Delfina didn’t blame her -- and I found that so poignant, since it is almost as if Irma is Delfina in a way, highlighting the inner Delfina: struggling to do what she should, what she is told (e.g. coming from her mother and sister, and (perhaps) her husband), and what she wants (moving to Cali, getting ice-cream, taking her husband's car)).
Maybe these thoughts also shine a light on the title "Anyone can do it" (...but maybe they shouldn't...)
The more I read about Delfina, the less I’m tempted to ascribe much nobility to her actions. Without judging (after all we’re all made of the same intentions…anyone can do it…) I see her as letting Kiki kee-keep the car because she just can’t say no.
I really like your focusing in on Irma…I think she raises a whole load of questions.
Really good points, Mikhaeyla. Those parallels do shine extra light, and I think they are all part of this moment in flux where Delfina is moving from her own childlike dependence to something new. How far will she have to go to 'understand the circumstances' herself? She still has fractionally more financial security than the other women, but it's very tenuous and she needs ideas. One of the things I like most is how out of necessity she keeps her judgement flexible so she can stay open to all sources and give herself the leeway to move. And she doesn't throw blame or really bitch, not even in the privacy of her own thoughts. Maybe Lis is right when she insinuates that it's a luxury for Delfina to, for example, leave Kiki unaware. Maybe necessity will harden Delfina too. But I don't think so, not completely. People get good breaks and bad breaks but they don't see them as good or bad in the same way. There's a stubborn softness to Delfina that I like to think will protect her going forward.
I'll backtrack and see what i can find. But I gotta say the fact that it can be interpreted so many ways (and in oppositional ways--kind and/or not kind, for instance) is one of the things that I don't care for. I want the author to tell me what he thinks. I don't want to be told that the title can mean, basically, anything. But I'll take a look. Thank you for the push!
It's funny how in here, a book club (and a very specific one at that), we can still find so much diversity in perspective. For me, the multiple meanings/reading are half the fun of reading! And I don't think of it so much as that the title can mean anything, but that it means different yet specific things, depending on the character we're talking about.
I was in an in-person book club for a dozen years and we all saw things in our own way, over and over. It was great!
I was reflecting today on how good stories show us who *we* are. There’s no way a writer could know this, so a title that encompasses everything (and this, everyone) is the very best type of title.
Mary,
I appreciate how deep you go in thinking about the title (and the rest). What I love about this story is the respect shown to the reader. It seems to me that what's unsaid is as powerful as what's said, leaving us space to find meaning. And so with the title. For me it's a richer experience to have multiple takes on it. I like works of art, poems etc., that one can go back to, like diving into a deep lake. There is a touch of irony in the title I think, because we learn that not anyone can in fact do it.
Thank you, Cynthia! I absolutely agree that a title is something a reader goes back to and ponders. And takes their own meaning from. That's what reading a story is all about--we come to the story as we are, and we take from it what we find as ourselves, as individuals in one moment in time. The next time we read it, we are a different person and may take something else. The thing about this particular title (to me) is that I found it completely wide open. I did not see the author's hand in there, steering me slightly toward a meaning that I can bounce off of the story. You're right that I can bounce it off of so many layers! But that is my point (and I may be the only one who feels this way). I'd prefer a title with "less bounce"! One that narrows things down a bit for me. One that tells me--oh, this is what the author was doing with that title! Did Munoz mean to have a title that can be interpreted in a multitude of ways? Perhaps. Maybe that's his point. That anyone can do anything if pushed. I can go with that, actually. But does it mean that Delfina has just now learned this? Does it mean that she may "do anything" in the future? I'm not great with this amount of ambiguity. I want things a bit tighter. I want to feel that i am with the writer, nodding my head, saying oh yes, I see why you chose that title now that i've finished the story. Since I didn't get that feeling, I'm left feeling a bit, i don't know, disappointed, I guess. Again, it's probably just me. Others handle ambiguity much better than me! I just think there was a better title in there somewhere, one that would have satisfied me more. Obviously, this one satisfied the author, and that's what counts.
I think as readers we all fall somewhere along the certainty/ ambiguity spectrum. For me the title makes me think hard about the story, even about the phrase itself which is often said glibly without much thought behind it. It's a title that invites interrogation. I feel so blessed to have this forum in which to engage in these granular questions and concerns.
It won’t let me like your comment, so I am typing to say that I do! This club really is a blessing!
My husband often remarks on how hard it is for me to deal with ambiguity in life, and so it is with my reading of stories (and my interpretations)! We bring ourselves to the page and there's no escaping our inner worlds! (I, too, feel so very lucky to have found this sub stack. Cannot believe that I can get so very microscopic and have others often zoom right in there with me! What a gift!)
I really like your comment about respect for the reader.
"Reply hostage" that's funny. I've been thinking about the title, too. Some people think the work–– work picking fruit for long hours, is something "anyone can do" and have no idea how difficult this labor is, or how food comes to their table, or what the working conditions are like. I'm glad that this story shows the labor. Give the reader an idea of what that might be like.
Yes yes and yes - anyone can pick fruit; anyone can steal your car; anyone can abuse you; anyone can be nice to you. All true. But mostly I think it's the phrase that causes Delfina to let her guard down and decided that yes, she CAN work and earn money. She decides to trust Lis and believe that doesn't have to depend on her abusive husband. She has a shot at freedom. And then Lis drives away and the phrase becomes meaningless because it's not true that anyone can break free. Or is it? As dire as things are for Delfina at the end, she at least had a taste of being self sufficient and that gave me hope. (yes, - my middle name IS Pollyanna. How did you know?)
Dogpaddling around the title is right. I’m actually not a fan of this title. I like that idea too that while readers have quite a bit to say about what a story can and does mean, a title is a compass from the author pointing the way.
I hope someone asked the author about the title.
I love this, Mary. That feeling of strength has bothered me from the beginning. And she feels her own agency, and then - hands over the keys! I've been there.
I relate to her as well. The more stressed, overworked, and worried a person is...sometimes executive function (don't give a stranger the keys to the car) doesn't lead the way.
oh, sallie. I've been there, too.
Some interesting observations in here, Mary. I enjoy your comments and I'm only just beginning to be able to contribute with Story Club, so why not start here!
I wonder, with your interpretation of Delfina's "defeat" in the orchards and the ending of the story, do you think, then, that the car being driven off of Kiki's hand and "out of their lives forever" represents a closure of sorts? Or a transition in Delfina and her child's lives.
The loss of the Galaxie seems to leave Delfina with no choice but to change forever. So much of Delfina's thoughts and actions are based on money and a lack of it, but also a lack of worry for it. As if she knows it will come at some point. And with multiple mentions of the turmoil of her current situation, I wonder if it the ending means she has no option now but to change her life forever - financially, and by leaving her husband (should he ever return).
Delfina's seeming indifference to Lis stealing her car further supports this - It's almost as if she's resigned herself to a change/transition that she has felt has been coming for some time.
I may not have successfully articulated my thoughts on this but in any case you've opened my eyes to the ending with your thoughts on Delfina's defeat and I thank you for that :)
Hi Matt! Thanks for commenting!
The image of Kiki driving the car "out of their lives forever" represents a closure to the story on the page only. It leaves us with Delfina, defeated on this one day. The car is gone, her husband is missing, she's estranged from her mother/sister, she's been betrayed. But out of catastrophe often comes change. And i think that is what is coming next--off the page. Delfina is not going to sit there forever. She must continue to move forward, and I think she will. Yes, she is currently trapped and defeated. But...she has seen kindness, she believes in faith. Something's gotta give. (I think perhaps you and I are saying the same things.)
Hi Mary! Insightful comments as always. I have a difficult time reconciling the man with the ring and his “faithful kindness” with a reading of defeat. Things may be hard for Delfina, but there will be a way forward. This particular unpleasantness has driven “out of their lives forever.” There’s a brightness there, to paraphrase from the end of “Where are you going, where have you been?” a brightness even in whet could be considered a dark story.
Along with this (momentary) defeat, i also I feel hope (perhaps?) that this will be the catalyst that shoots her out of this marriage, this life. So there is that to hold on to. The "faithful kindness" that she saw was, to me, a comparison to her own marriage, which is probably not a faithful one and not kind, either.
She came to this place with her husband in the car. I feel a bit the car is a phusical container of their marriage, as they have so few other possessions.
And now the tyrannic husband is gone, and the car as well. Maybe that will help set her free.
There is still money worries, and she better get away before the husband potentially returns.
But maybe it is a good catalyst to make her go now.
She would never herself have “stolen” the car from her husband. And she would not have left the bleak place with the car still standing there.
So maybe the car gone, opens possibilities.
Yes. I see that’s what the boy is signifying at the end when playing with toy car in his arm. Those troubles have driven away out of their world.
Yes. There is that comparison too.
Mary G, I completely agree with you, that is what I got out of the story. Her life is lived under the thumb of her husband, now he is gone, she can be her own person. Get away from the machismo of the culture. Though I do not think that it is negative at the end of defeat, I see it as a win because she is now her own person and she can move back home with her family. In the story, she says they will never forgive her, I feel that she was forced to move away and her mother and sister were begging her to stay. The foreshadowing at the end with the foreman, sisters always come back in the end, is her going home, in my opinion.
Why has no one touched on all the times she compares Lis to her sister? Unless there was a point, I don’t see why he added it so many times, unless it is showing, by the comment, my husband says, that she is a bit brainwashed by the husband.
Thoughts?
One other thought.... I don't find a need to put in that cars will be towed unless there is a point. Did anyone think maybe the car was towed and Lis was picked up by immigration? And it was just all a coincidence?
There’s the comment about the ring that the foreman wears, as evidence for kindness in marriage that she wants to tell her husband about.
The more I think about this story, the more I think Lis and Kiki have shown Delfina that something she might never have considered before--stealing a car and thereby changing her own situation--is possible. (In fact, maybe "anyone can do it"??! Even a four-year-old!) She has clearly missed the opportunity to "steal" her own car (from her husband), but maybe Kiki's pantomime at the end is an encouragement for Delfina to follow Lis's example and get herself and Kiki out while she still can...
I'm an optimist...
(And sorry if there's already a thread discussing this possibility on the previous post--it's difficult to keep up with all the comments...)
oh, i love this.
When I finished this story, I immediately started to think back to the moment that Delfina sealed her fate and I couldn't find one. I believe her decision to trust Lis is inevitable, and I think she knows that.
She's desperate for money but even more desperate for kindness. Munoz makes that clear. She was starved for kindness, and therefore, vulnerable. However, we get our happy/hopeful ending because Delfina gets kindness from the foreman (the thing she really needed).
Of course the moment with the toy car stood out to me, as well. I knew it was doing a lot of work, but I couldn't name it other than to call it foreshadowing. It's more than that, though. As I think about it, it's the obvious turning point of the entire story. It's when she goes from a passive character to an active character.
I was also very interested in the foreman's ring. I think it's the hope that Delfina needs. My interpretation is that she concludes that since the foreman is married, he's not trying to date her or get something from her sexually, he's just being kind. She doesn't want to tell her husband about the foreman's ring (and therefore altruistic behavior) because her husband might ruin it with some cynical response.
I agree with what you say about her craving kindness. It comes up in the exchange with Lis about loneliness. Delfina doesn't state but thinks that what is worse than loneliness is to live in a house without kindness. She not only wants kindness from others, but wants to give it as well, even it does eventually put her in a serious bind.
Thanks, Ed!
I think the "reason," that is the chain of causality here in her seeking and needing kindness more than anything (I totally agree with you and think the story is about that need for kindness) is due to shame. It's all in the phone call with her family in Texas. Shame is a nasty monster. It is why she can't actually ask for the money, hangs up on them, and it explains her state of blank confusion after the call, why she doesn't make Kiki return the car and why she changes her mind. Shame.
That's an excellent point. I would even go further to say that shame is part of what drove her to trust Lis. She was ashamed of her financial dependence on her husband.
But can "Anyone" really do it? I'm thinking about this title and about Delfina trying to find her own power and agency. Her husband is not supportive, her family doesn't want to help, her son is now stealing what he wants since he's not getting enough of what he needs. No wonder it becomes appealing for Delfina to 1) bribe her child and 2) follow a stranger (Lis) who promises she can "do it" for herself - make some money, take control. Well, it turns out to be a con. Her vulnerability gets taken advantage of, yet again. The foreman is a hint of how things could be different. She could perhaps still have a different kind of life, or a life with different kindness. She gets a glimpse. Maybe this glimpse will be the beginning, the opening of a door? Or maybe Delfina can't do it and it's not really true that Anyone Can Do It, and she's stuck, and the title refers to the con.
Is it weird that it could be either? I agree that it could, and my earlier, pre-storyclub self would have said that this is a flaw in the story. I want certainty. But StoryClub has been about making friends with ambiguity. Seeing that stories succeed when either could be true and in fact are true AT THE SAME TIME. It kind of scrambles the mind how both reads work. The title referring to the con is so mean, even hurtful. Yet Delfina finding her own agency is a triumph. So its two extremes and both are possible. Both are true.
Thanks for the reply. And welcome to StoryClub ambiguity! As I learn more and live more I see how many things actually are uncertain, or subject to interpretation, or subject to chance. I find myself adding “-ish” to the end of statements to open the door for things to be a little blurry. I’ve also noticed the most accomplished people I meet are quite humble about their expertise and they too are hesitant to proclaim certainty. Certainty can be a (reassuring) trap. It lets us stop being curious or doubtful.
I have to confess that this poor reader did not catch the prefiguring aspect of the stolen toy car the first read-through. However, I'm convinced that subconsciously it contributed to my certainty that, when she handed over the keys, the real car would be stolen. Love it when the mechanics of a story disappear into the narrative.
Makes me wonder at what point the author realized he needed this scene--the stolen toy car scene. I should have asked him! What's pretty amazing is how directly on the nose it is--kid steals toy car/woman steals real car--and yet it's written with such subtlety that we skip on past it. Our minds are focused more on Delfina's mothering right then, on her exhaustion, on her money problems. The stolen car gets lost in our minds--but you're right, we are then primed for later, when the real car is stolen. I think it's pretty amazing he was able to do this. In a lesser writer's hands, it all would have been way too obvious.
That's the question I sent in for Manuel, that is, when did he add the toy car scene? Was it part of the original concept of the story or did it occur to him later? Hopefully, we'll get an answer from him.
I tried to say that in a comment about it’s potential to be a clunky comparison, but you’ve explained it more gracefully than I could, Mary. Well said.
I'm curious, and should have asked the author, whether we were meant to realize the car would be stolen when she handed the keys over. I immediately thought "uh oh, here we go," but perhaps other readers were surprised later? That is, did I get ahead of the author, or was I right where he wanted me to be?
I thought Lis was meant to give us a creepy feeling, even when they first met, she was causing tension. I didn't see Lis taking the car in advance, but I thought she was going to do something.
I really enjoyed your talk in Brooklyn last night, George. It was fun finally seeing you in person. I might add that I met some really wonderful George Saunders fans. We signed each other's LD books like you would a yearbook. And I did what I could to tout the gift that is Story Club. Happy trails!
They're a good bunch. And Brandon Taylor is an amazing person.
After a careful second reading of this story, my feeling is that the personal change that Delfina is undergoing is the real story here, and that the events are the supporting evidence for that. This could be called a coming of age story for her.
The opening line is that her “immediate concern was money,” and, by the end, to get money, she had to overcome her husband’s refusal to allow her to work, as well as her tendencies toward complying with what other people told her to do because she was worried what they would think about her. “When Lis was pushing her toward going to the orchard to work, Delfina said “I don’t know,” and“knew she could not say that more than twice and she steeled herself to say no.”
Delfina thought of the other women in the community as defeated shadows, who believed that nothing could change until the men arrived home. Internally, she didn't agree, and although she was aware of her own worry about money, she “felt a resolve” that the other women didn't seem to have, which strengthened the longer she sat on the front steps and watched them.
Delfina experiences conflict about the changes she wants to make, which is normal. There are numerous points in the story where she worries about what people will think of her, and her actions remind her of this painful conflict. She is going to have to move past what others think if she doesn’t want to be one of the deferential “shadow women.” Her sister and her mother represent this conflict; if she isn’t going to be dependent and deferential, she is going to have to move away from her unkind family as well as her unkind husband. Hanging up the phone before her sister starts talking to her is one small, but potent action toward moving toward self-reliance. And, when she discovered the car her son had stolen and took it away from him, he "was inconsolable and the Saturday shoppers along the sidewalk stopped to look in their direction, Sssh, she told him, and...slipped it back into his pocket." Change isn't linear, and there are backslides.
The telephone conversation with her mother indicates how Delfina has been taught to feel about herself—her mother thinks she only wants money (maybe she keeps hoping for something more satisfying from her family, although she does ask for money), and has her own story about why Delfina should have stayed in Texas, which cuts down Delfina’s desire for making her own decisions and living her own life. Delfina acts in a small but potent moment of resistance when she hangs up the phone while her mother is bringing her sister to talk to her, and, unplanned, she has failed to ask for the money she wanted. She's going to have to live without it for now. And…Delfina is paying for the call with her own small change of dimes.
Lis, as unlikable as she is, is offering a roadmap for Delfina to follow (a way to work, get money, and move forward from being treated unkindly), with her remark that "It's easy but hard at the same time. Anyone can do it. It's just that no one wants to." It's unfortunate that she is planning to use Delfina to finance her own roadmap by stealing D’s car and the money she earns, but, intentionally or not, she has set up Delfina for moving forward. The car and the road map are metaphors for making life changes and feeling conflict at the same time.
At the end of the story, Delfina is moving through her own process of becoming emotionally and financially independent, and the foreman is a beacon of what’s possible, as he represents kindness and money appearing when she needs it if she works and takes action. The fact that he's wearing a ring indicates that independence isn't going to happen through a man. This is reinforcing for her change, even though she may not consciously recognize it.
I think the ladder, which is heavy and unwieldy, with Delphina hauling it around, represents Delfina’s changing situation. Lis uses the ladder, metaphorically being at the top in her position of authority. Delfina isn’t yet at that place. Delfina’s willingness to retrieve the ladder when she’s tired and to help the foreman with it, indicates her goodness and also her willingness to do the work needed to make this change. As they drive, the ladders clatter and shift and settle, a process that Delfina is undergoing internally. I doubt that she will steal and lie, though, to get what she wants as Lis does.
What an exquisitely crafted story this is! Nothing is extraneous, and not all is obvious, making it a story to get inside your mind and make it work. Thanks, George, for finding it, and Manuel Munoz, for writing it.
Podcast interview with Hamish was great.
Jealous of everyone who gets to be at these readings.
Now, onto "Anyone Can Do It."
I touched on the "stolen toy car" scene in my comment on Session #1, so I'll try to keep this short. But After reading a few more times and going through George's take, I noticed a couple more things about it.
One: I think the shift that happens in Delfina when she finds the car in Kiki's pocket turns the story into one about love. Delfina's fraught relationship with her husband, mother, and sister are full of stress and pride. There's a sense in the marriage that Delfina is in survival-mode, and with her mother and sister, a sense of "I'll show them," a reaction to their judgment of her. But all her actions toward her son are born out of love for him and a desire to protect him. I liked what George said about Delfina thinking that their poverty drove Kiki to steal the car. I didn't pick up on that, probably because I'm not a parent and I don't know what it's like to hold that burden in my head. I think there's some truth to that. And I think it helps explain why it's the situation with Kiki—not the judgment coming from her family or the fear/anger/resentment she feels toward her husband—that convinces her to "take matters into her own hands." Once she recognizes that it's what will be best for Kiki, she doesn't need much more convincing.
Two: This is less a statement than a question. One aspect of this scene that stuck with me but ended up overshadowed by the stolen toy, was the moment where she finds Kiki in the toy aisle. Those scattered board game pieces on the floor, and how they seem to be replaced by the dimes, were like oatmeal to my soul. I'm just now giving myself the chance to reflect on that moment in context with the whole story, and it sheds a different light on Delfina and Lis, two people forced to play the same exhausting, oppressive game because of the world they live in, their financial situations, and the relationship they have to the laws/rules of that oppressive society/game. Heavy stuff!
I love this observation that the dimes replaced the game pieces. That's a very rich reading.
To me, one of the most beautiful and interesting lines in the story takes place in the store. Delfina has just spent money for some ice cream and feels foolish for being so frivolous. Then, "But her boy didn't need to know those troubles. His Saturday was coming along like any other, his father sometimes not home at sundown and always gone at sunrise. There was no reason to get him wondering about things he wasn't yet wondering about." This last line gets me. It is so maternal, this wanting to protect her son from the knowledge of poverty. She is also protecting her son from the knowledge that her father might not be coming home as he always does. She does this by pretending that it is just like every other Saturday.
It is similar to the earlier exchange between Delfina and Lis in which Lis states that "children never understand the circumstance," to which Delfina replies, "No, they don't. I don't think they should ever learn that." The context here concerned loneliness, and how terrible that was (Lis) and (unstated by Delfina) 'just as hard to live in a house with kindness.' Delfina want to insure that her son doesn't have to live in a house without kindness. I get the feeling that she knows that a house with kindness in it, can deal with all the exigencies of life.
Really great points here, Ed. think the line about Delfina sheltering her boy from troubles is something she does to herself too. There’s an initial instinct to be self-protective from Lis about the car snd money. But she takes that risk (for kindness and money, money secondarily I’d argue) and she gets burned. But risking to receive kindness can be very risky indeed. She makes herself vulnerable and gets hurt. But another person is nice to her and wants nothing of her in return. There’s both good and bad in the world. Like the boy’s toy car, it flies off his arm and away from them. The bad flows out. Perhaps it is a turning point where she learns from the burn and is still open to being vulnerable because of the food in the world she’s experienced.
Right. It's all about trust. We so badly want to trust other people. And we want to be trusted as well.
I think this story hinges most on Delfina’s decision to walk into town instead of drive, and also reveals a lot about Delfina and her situation. To me, Delfina deciding to walk instead of drive (because of Lis) and her deciding to go to the fields instead of not are one and the same.
In the story it is explained that she made the decision to walk because she only just refused Lis the night before, and driving past Lis now would’ve made her seem dishonest, more well-off, and/or inconsiderate. Being in a new place (and in a precarious financial situation) we get particularly attuned to how our decisions impact others perception.
Thus I think an underlying driver (no pun intended) of the plot is Delfina wanting to fit in: in the first scene she does what all the other wives do, her husband having been doing what all the other husbands have been doing; she has also recently left her home and her family based on the hope she can find a new, better place to belong. An underlying question she is asking herself is if she has found that place. These questions, and the little decisions she has to make (walk v. drive) add to the stress Delfina is facing, and I think eventually weaken her resolve not to go to the fields, and ultimately contribute to her letting her guard down by handing Lis the keys. She WANTS to be nice, she wants to trust people, she wants to gel in her new community and probably wants to have a friend, and for her son to maybe have a friend in Lis’ daughter. In this way the author paints a picture of being in a precarious spot (both financially and socially) masterfully.
For me, Delfina’s desire to belong is where the title “Anyone Can Do It” comes into play: to Delfina it must almost sound like “everyone does it” when Lis, the welcomer, says it to her, the newcomer.
Herein lies Delfina’s undoing: her desire to fit in gets her to walk, whereas driving would’ve made it easier to avoid Lis, though not her ire, and maybe the disaster Lis brings upon her altogether. On the walk back, again her desire to not make an enemy of Lis (also her desire to not be rude in front of her own son) sucks her into the conversation that results in her going to the fields, but I’ll save the rest of my thoughts on that sidewalk scene for the next post!
But how different a story it could’ve been if Delfina decided to drive! From there, Munoz could’ve gone any number of ways with the story. Maybe the perception of her would’ve come to dominate?
Driving, though, would’ve made it easier to avoid Lis. So driving v. walking is more than just that. It’s about how does Delfina want to portray herself and her family in this new community, and to this community member (Lis) who has welcomed her (even if she had sinister motives.) So maybe Delfina’s mistakes are less about her wanting to fit in and more about her fears: she’s already afraid of sinking further into poverty, of her mother/sister being right, of having to go back to them, of her husband not coming home and also of her husband coming home. All this multiplies because of her son. Now, with her decision to walk instead of drive, she’s demonstrating her fear of not getting off on the right foot in this new community.
TLDR: I’ve gone on a bit here, but to conclude, I think Delfina decides (or at least starts the decision making process that tells her to go to the fields) by ceding to Lis the decision to walk instead of drive. Once she surrenders that power to Lis, it gets a lot harder to say no.
Yes, Lis is so forceful that she gets inside Delfina's head.
One other aspect to this story which leapt out at me is something I deal with all the time in my day job (I’m a documentary TV/Film producer): the power of “what’s next?” Keeping that basic narrative question alive without recourse to lumbering and often forced ad overworked cliff-hangers is an art; and, Nunez does this so beautifully. Right off, without literally asking a question or blaring it out he has us wanting to know, what is it about Delfinia’s relationship to “her man” that makes her feel different and separate from all the other women on the block. He does these subtle moves all throughout the story; it keeps the energy moving inexorably forward. If, in TV, if the viewer isn’t in a near constant state of wanting to know what happens next, they change the channel. In many (certainly not all) short stories that’s true as well. And this story does it so, so well.
Here's an interesting article from The Guardian that talks about authors joining SubStack and references George briefly.
https://www.theguardian.com/books/2022/oct/21/can-joining-substack-allow-a-midlist-author-the-same-success-as-booker-prize-winners
Such great insights about the coins falling on the floor. This event didn't stand out to me before seeing the comments here. It makes me think of an expression in Spanish "Se me cayó el veinte" and it's equivalent in English, "The coin dropped" both of which mean, "I suddenly understood." Could this mean that the moment of the coins falling was Delfina's moment of understanding? Probably too literal an interpretation of that image...but fun to think about.
Sorry to pop this in the middle of the discussion of "Anyone Can Do It," (oh, the irony) but is anyone else having the problem of trying to "like" a comment and can't? Sometimes I can but today, for example, I'm clicking away on the heart of so many of your great comments and nothing is happening...
Erica, when it happens to me and I refresh the page the like is usually there. It's the second most annoying glitch imho, just behind the way comments track in here, which grows past unruly into absurd right around the tipping point of engaged conversation!
That's happened to me. I can't figure it out. It's odd, because the next day, if I go back, it works. Try again tomorrow. Maybe Substack found a way to get us back here, fiddling around. "Let's screw around with the like key, so they have to keep hanging around."
It doesn't show up for me, either. But when I refresh, it's there. (This seems to be what Stacya and Traci have found as well.) It's very annoying.
"The internet has been conditioning our minds and influencing the global consciousness in ways that we are only beginning to understand." So true.
Back to the story, which I'm still chewing on. I've been re-reading, thinking about why I didn't like Lis from the beginning, looking at choices the writer made, how Lis was in the shadows, the distance between the two women, the topper was when Lis made a face when she didn't get her way. She's intrusive, this stranger next door. Delfina's choice to trust Lis, or at least take a chance on her, is because: Desperation. I've made bad choices when overworked or worried, who hasn't?
I also appreciate the way Munoz described the house and the kitchen–– it had mildew. Say no more. It's a strange place, this rental, that the "landlords" didn't bother fixing up after the old man died, and now Delfina is stuck there with her son. All the descriptions–– not too much, just the right amount, to get me in that world.