Sadly some drastic changes in my schedule knocked me off course right after reading this story and suddenly I've been away for seven months, but thankfully I've been taking good notes. The story didn't resonate very strongly with me on that first read, and I think in part that had to do with it coming right after "The Stone Boy" (which I found incredibly moving and my favorite story so far), though I am curious if my feelings will change after this break.
You brought up two details I overlooked. The first is the comparison of Savitsky's legs not to girls' legs but to entire girls, and how oddly this feminine description stands with his otherwise overtly masculine character. The second is how the gleeful way he whips the air will contrast later with the narrator's attitude toward his own violence.
I also find your perception of the narrator interesting. I saw him as not dissimilar to the first of the less interesting alternatives you brought up i.e. the nerd who wishes he wasn’t one. To me he came across, though maybe not as self-loathing as that, as eager to prove that his intellectual status did not make his temperament more sensitive and or lessen his ability to perform his war duties. In my reading, I saw him not so much unfazed by Savitsky as in denial that he might be different.
So here are the questions I have now:
When the narrator asserts himself as capable, does he know this to be true, or does he want and hope this to be true without actually knowing?
Why is he eager to continue with his assignment despite the anti-intellectual prejudice? Is he unfazed, or is he motivated out of spite?
With the first pulse, the narrator is in the presence of a Divisional Commander (or Nachdev), who is both rakish, note the jaunty aspect of his cap, along with the jackboots (over the knee), and also, if the narrator is Babel's counterpart, roughly the same age (Semyon Timoshenko and Isaac Babel had a difference in age of five months between them). The divisional commander is gigantic, also, his every act implies the potential to cleave anything, even air. There is something of a virility challenge going on, which for the narrator, to survive, escalates to threatening the half-blind old women (who wants to hang herself) and murder - crushing its skull with his boot (talk about cross-talking/cross-painting). The threat is always there - note the note to Chesnokov - and such threats were not idle, the joy in the eyes of Savitsky, rings of the music of power that revels in the seduction of its violent potential, all of which marks out the narrator as an almost unwitting but quick on the uptake tight-rope walker.
I am lost in this first pulse - the narrator gets an assignment from his cruel commander. There is no fear in the writing. Instead there are some form of admiration, a hint of homoeroticism and sarcasm. Yet at the same time, there is a treat to our narrator. It's mind-boggling.
Playing catch, as I caught a bit of luck in a new job after being unemployed for almost a year -- yada yada yada. Anyhoo.
Thanks George, for unpacking so much, which, I'm grateful, corresponded mostly with my own instincts and impulses regarding the story. A relief, to feel on the right tracks.
Not to dawdle, I just wanted to comment on this notion early on in your Pulse 1 post, in addressing "why and how" of scene, something Im going to write down on a post it and attache above my computer, that the narrator is given an assignement -- it is important who and why athe assignement is given. This is addressed in footnote. But -- and here's what interested me most -- the writer doesn't get any points for merely describing the character accurately. The writer needs to use attributes, focuse and exaggerate certain ones in order to "make the character" live on the page.
Early in my writing career, I got a lot of compliments on my "description" and "interest detail" even "lyrical prose" and because of that I think I used it as a crutch -- if I just described well enough it would somehow "work". This was not the case. It took a comment former teacher on a well-detailed/described story to beging to shake this out of my head: "A story is more than just a collection of detail." And even then it took more time for me to finally make the leap from the safety of the rooftop of description across the alley way to the rooftop of meaningful detail, if that make sense.
Also, I was struck by noting of how particular details in the beginning of the story are taken up ore alluded to later. It was something that Stu Dybek would say gives the story "an inner life". He stumbled onto this in his own story, The Long Thoughts, when he had to resolved a character leaving his glovdes in the dryer at a laundry mat earlier in the story, and did so by haveing the character say "The hell with them." It really stood out to others. It made me think of how a comedian will make a joke and then later on the act reference or allude to it -- the delight of the audience is always remarkable, on a different leve, which often makes it good way to wrap a routine.
Okay. Sorry for being windy. Appreciate all the great insights and guidance.
was it William Faulkner that said that each scene either had to reveal character or move the story forward (and in some cases both I think?)
Interesting to read others thoughts here about what defines a pulse - and just what it's purpose is.
In scene structure for filmmaking, writers and directors (and actors obviously) understand and analyze a scene in terms of "beats". A scene could have any number of them, but by the end of the scene things have changed and are now pointing in a new direction
I'm trying to be careful not to assume that works the same way with short stories, but it feels similar, in a way, to the notion of George's "pulses". Here maybe the pulse is the entire thrust of the scene, and not the individual beats of story within a scene.
Both terms call to mind a heartbeat, one leading and propelling us to the next thing, keeping it flowing, keeping us interested. Also, a pulse for me not only propels the story forward, introducing question and answer pattern that happens on a subconscious level about character, story (George's bowling pins) but the main thing for me is the feeling it instills (he says at the end of this pulse that he'll get along with the cossacks, but will he? anxiety, fear) For it to effectively "pulse," you have to feel something, if the entire story is going to resonate. We may not know why exactly on an intellectual level, but we've felt it.
Apparently, Babel is not the first person to think of a woman in connection with a man's lower leg: https://www.pinterest.com/pin/4011087160010227/ -- a pair of Thracian greaves (armor for the lower leg) with women's faces on the knee cap. You can find more examples though I do warn you that it is something of a rabbit hole.
As usual I got distracted by something silly in the post. This is why I never did well in school. That goose picture is hilarious. The longer I looked at it the harder I laughed. That diva goose was in the middle of stuffing his face when the stage manager was like, it's your cue! and with food still dangling from his beak he steamrolls over the innocent actor, wings wide, ready to shine!
I would like to register a complaint regarding no alert for unwarranted humor. Now I have flecks of oatmeal over my keyboard and tears in my eyes. I will never look at a goose the same.
I have not been very active in the comments, as I usually confine my thoughts and exercises to a notebook, but I just wanted to respond to the very last bit of this post. Thank you for doing this, George. This is a very good thing in my life as well. I feel enriched and improved after every single post. My writing is nothing but a fun hobby, so I am not here expecting to be published anytime soon, but this still gives me joy and helps me along with that hobby. Not to mention how it has improved my experience reading stories.
I like the “character+action” as driving the plot, as was discussed by GS previously—so, here’s my go at it. But, I’m thinking the “character+act(s) driving the plot” becomes the “pulse” as the story fills in with details, is that a way to look at it?
Such a good story — my simple plot. A story of humanity vs. inhumanity, and the quest for survival within such a paradox.
Survival = disarm the power/fear
A (Russian/Jewish) lawyer is conscripted/enlisted into a war/conflict in early 1900s Russia. An educated man, unlike the band of men that he is assigned to, he moves to position himself in mind and body to survive the life of a soldier among soldiers, and that of the wider war/conflict.
1. Jackboots = cruelty, authoritarian symbol (Cruelty sets the story/plot.)
2. Chesnokov/narrator - makes a mockery of the symbol and the power it is intended to have over him by “feminizing” Savitsky, the commander—referring to the legs with the boots as girls, weakens the symbol, weakens the power over him. Chesnokov needs this to “psych-himself-out,” if you will; to elevate his psyche to survive what he is about to endure—disarm the power/fear. (Disarm the power/fear — drives the plot.) (How can one not chuckle at the description of his welcoming by the men? I chuckled and cringed at the same time — disarming fear of the newcomer.)
3. My First Goose, refers to his first “kill-murder.” (Proves he is one of the men-disarm them - drives the plot.)
4. The characters have agency, even under such dire circumstances. One example, the quartermaster is empathetic and indifferent to Chesnokov, at his choosing. (The action of each character drives the story/plot.)
5. The woman wants to hang herself before his aggression toward her, and after — she tells him so — he did not change her with his violence — she was in control. (Disarm the power/fear — drives the plot)
6. I love the language and how the reader feels what the character feels. One example, “evening laid its motherly palms on my blazing forehead.”
7. The conflicted reverence felt by the reference to the “truth among the lies” of Lenin’s speech as Chesnokov and the men experience it. (Conflict within them all—lands the plot)
8. In my view, this says it all “— and only my heart, crimson with murder, creaked and bled.”
Wow George thank you. What a teaching post. I haven't had lot time to be active on community comments but following ur posts has been instructive, energising about stories workings, and is a 'very good thing in my life' too!
I've been thinking about this story and the Lu Hsun story 'An Incident', and I'm struck by the similarities - a first person account of a 'small' incident that reveals so much about the character and creates for them an intense moment of introspection. But in Lu's piece, the moment of introspection is brought more heavily into focus (so much so, that the entire story is framed around it), whereas in Babel, we get a leaving and returning to the courtyard and an admission of 'languishing' and that is all (on the surface level). And that got me thinking about this key difference - Lu's as a framed story vs Babel's as an unframed story. How would 'My First Goose' work as a framed story? Would it work? How does the presence/absence of the frame change the escalation of the story and the reader's 'take-away'?
I'm still struggling with the answers to these questions, but part of me recalls our earlier conversations around 'An Incident' and how the frame acts as a legal argument of sorts - 'this is the truth of the matter, and this is how I can prove that to you'. So, without a frame, we're left uncertain about the fate of our narrator and can not answer our questions about whether this new division/duality in him will prevail, will succeed, will tear him asunder. Will he adapt or will the division eventually pull him one way and into the consequences that necessarily follow?
And what does that mean for the story? In Lu's story, we're left to judge our own actions by the conclusions of the rickshaw passenger (when, in our lives, have we been shamed by our inaction in the face of someone else's honour/courage/decency?), but in Babel's, we're less reflective and more immediately in the story - instead of retrospectively applying the narrator's moral conclusion to our own lives (as we do in 'An Incident'), we're proactively applying our moral judgement and hopes onto our Lenin-reading, goose-killing, pork-eating, languishing, entangled narrator. In this way, Babel reminds me more of Chekhov (hot young Chekhov or stately elder Chekhov, take your pick) - there is no moral judgement; questions of "is it good or bad? forgivable or reproachable? reasonable or cowardly?" are merely answered with "yes" (or perhaps, "you decide, if you dare judge")
I found the observations you've offered and the questions you raised really useful for prompting me to think further about these two stories.
I agree that Lu Hsun's story focuses more on, and makes more explicit, the narrator's introspection. In Babel's story, even though the narrator has made a conscious and considered decision to take certain action (in contrast to the narrator's behaviour in "The Incident", which seemed to me more impulsive/habitual/not fully conscious), we don't obtain much insight at all in "My First Goose" about the narrator's internal deliberations and feelings that lead to him deciding to kill the goose (except that he is "lonely" and tiring of being hassled by the cossacks – and (we surmise) he has calculated that it is simply necessary in order to enable him to get on/survive with this group). Perhaps that absence causes us to "lean in" more in order to divine what is going on in the narrator's mind (and thus consider ourselves how we might act in similar circumstances). One other observation I'd make in this regard is that it seemed to me that, in "My First Goose", the narrator's more objective description of events (in contrast to those of the narrator in "The Incident") might have a similar purpose/effect (i.e., causing us to lean in more).
I like your observations about the effect of framing (or its absence). For me, the first paragraphs of both "The Incident" and "My First Goose" seem to serve similar functions, insofar as they establish the respective character of the stories' narrators. Then the main events follow and, in the final paragraph of both stories, the narrators describe their reactions to their conduct. Like you, it seems to me that there is little ambivalence in Lu Hsun's narrator's evaluation of the moral value of his (and the driver's) actions. In Babel's story, the narrator's emotional reaction is clear, but Babel leaves us to consider (as you pointed out) whether the narrator's actions were "good" or "bad", and whether we would, in similar circumstances, act in the same way the narrator did. My take-away (which I think is similar to yours?) was that the absence of an end-frame in "My First Goose" best serves this particular story because of that ambivalence. On my reading, there is also potentially some cross-talk between that ambivalence/absence of explicit moral judgment and the narrator's reporting of Surovkov's comment about Lenin's ability to pull the truth "out of the pile" .. "like a hen pecking at a grain". I am sure Surovkov's comment has other layers of meaning, but it seemed to me that, in describing one of the cossacks offering a powerful simile/image in this way (i.e., like an intellectual?), Babel is showing us the capabilities that lie within different "types" (and thus each of us) – a soldier is capable of offering a powerful simile, which we would typically consider an "intellectual" activity, and the narrator, an intellectual, has shown himself capable of killing in order to survive in the particular environment that he is in. In this way Babel could be said to be highlighting a commonality/potential that exists in all of us.
One further thought I had regarding framing: if Babel's story included an introduction like the one in "The Incident" (i.e., establishing the narrator's character), it seems to me that we would lose the (effective, and highly entertaining) initial illustration of Savitsky's and the narrator's respective character (because the narrator's character would at least be partially established in that intro), including the contrast between them, which also serves to set up the dynamic that's to follow between the narrator and the cossacks.
Anyway, I really appreciated and found useful your comments – thank you for sharing.
Geoff, I loved your comments! You're right - the lack of framing in Babel's story almost mirrors the mysterious curve of Lenin's straight line! Having thought about it more, the lack of framing also nicely echoes his admonishment to the old woman "I didn't come here to reason with you" (or, in another translation "I'm in no mood to start debating with you!") - there is no dwelling on this moral quandry for our narrator, no rationalisation can be achieved, no justification made. It is, simply, what it is.
And yes, there would be no wonderful Savitsky introduction with a tightly framed story. Or it would be less impactful. It is as if the framing puts the first person perspective more in focus with Lu's 'An Incident', but in Babel's 'My First Goose', its absence allows us to slide a little into other perspectives - Savitsky, the Quartermaster, the Old Woman, the Cossacks.
Thanks again for your reply - I really enjoyed it and it pushed to venture down the rabbit hole (or along that mysterious curve) a little further...
Just re-reading this and appreciate what you say about the absence of a frame allowing us to slide a little easier into other perspectives - that totally makes sense to me.
I appreciate the spearing across from one story's 'silos' of reading and reflection to another story's 'silos' Mikhaeyla. Such cross comparison is, I'm sure, going to be helpful and will probably add a little more worthwhile reading and reflection to our 'to do lists'.
An immediate thought that crosses my mind is that whereas Lu Hsun's story is, essentially, worked around a single salient incident Isaac Babel's works around series of salient incidents (or could I just as well say 'pulses'?)
da da da DUM DUM DUM da da da da > 'An Incident' ?
da DUM da DUM da DUM da DUM da DUM > 'My First Goose' ?
Recently read 'A Letter', which is a story from early in Red Cavalry and seems a dizzying story in a frame in a frame in a frame... quite an interesting place to go for comparison
Have requested 'Red Cavalry' from the library, but while I was searching for it, I found this online: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ePR-JWNxdvg My favourite line is early on when the narrator speaks of knowing 'the essence' of things. I feel like that is very much a part of 'My First Goose' - every description (of Savitsky, the Quartermaster, the Cossacks, the old woman): they all speak to their essence. I love how that gives a real sense of honesty and authenticity to the story.
Not to distract - rather to complement the work that's going on in response to the hop (MFG #1), . . . the skip (MFG #2) . . . the jump (MFG #3) and successive thumps of Newsletters relating to 'My First Goose' arriving in our Inboxes - I thought I'd signpost you to an article that has been published in today's edition of The Guardian:
I've found it intrinsically interesting but also helpful in reflecting on just why, generally, I'm here in the rabbit hole that is Story Club and also on why, in particular, my first encounter with Isaac Babel is proving so richly rewarding. Maybe you might also, in some way, find reading Jo Nesbo's words helpful?
A final thought, just for now: it has occurred to me that , in a sense, what we are doing in working on 'My First Goose' is a form of joint enterprise in which we are seeking to honour Isaac Babel's contribution to the craft of writing by picking up and building from his last words which were, I've learned, "I am asking for only one thing-let me finish my work.”
I just read Jo Nesbo's Guardian article. Thank you. By coincidence this morning as I was driving back from getting my early morning coffee, I heard an interview with a young woman in Ukraine who is working to get Ukraine's story out in the "battle" of stories that is going on between Russia and Ukraine. And, yes, I think you are right that the work of the Story Club is so pertinent. Nesbo writes that the truest stories are the best, but as he also mentions, facts don't always work. Truth can be better revealed sometimes in nonlinear and indirect ways that reach the heart rather than the intellect. I remember a phrase from a writing text--tell it slant. Babel's story is so delicate, so indirect. I apologize if I am off base in my response to your post.
Not off base Elizabeth thanks for sharing your thoughts. I think that the world's progress is paused, all too often stepped back, when 'Leaders' don't rule, decide and act without due regard to the need for heart and mind to be ruling jointly and in harmony.
The more I engage with 'My First Goose' - and in trying, but repeatedly failing, to stay just now within the textual confines of what, possibly for want of better words, I'll label 'The Bounded Pale of Pulse 1' - the more I am finding myself drawn into this short story, the cycle of stories in which it is a sequenced item, the arc of life of its author and fast flowing, ever eddying river of rising sparkling romance and ebbing darkling tragedy that is - so it seems to me, who most assuredly knows little but yet, somehow, enough to know - Russia.
I'm relishing the close reading of the text marked up by Pulse but realising that, for me at the moment, making sense of the authorial choices that Isaac Babel makes in arriving at his original published version of 'My First Goose' goes beyond working the limitations of working just on text alone: context is required, I'm finding, to really get to best grips with not just the one but the more than one, and perhaps several, ways of reading and reacting to 'My First Goose' that suggest themselves to me.
Do the words above strike a chord with you, dear peer reader. passing an eye over this post of mine? Or do they resonate not one jot? Sense or nonsense? Either way, thanks in anticipation should you care to say.
Yes, your comments do resonate. You are saying that we need to know or are drawn to know something of the culture and history of the people? I remember that years ago my father passed along a book to me along the lines of "Russia under the czars." He had served in WWII as an infantryman in France and Germany and was interested in the dynamics of Russia and neighboring countries. He told me that I should read it because I would understand about the people of Russia, their culture and their fate. I was a young mother and didn't have time. I can't find the book now but will search. "My First Goose" certainly carries all sorts of subtextual hints of the complicate history and culture of Russia. I hope I am not misinterpreting your interesting post!
Not in the least Elizabeth. So many of us seem in our varied ways to have made some connection(s) with Russia during the arc of our life stories, and I think many of us feel for the divided self that Russia we perceive - albeit in my case as an outsider - to be: divided that is as between the Russian State and the Russian People.
I found the title of the book my father handed to me: Empire of the Czar: A Journey Through Eternal Russia by Astolphe de Custine. I have ordered a copy from Thrift books as a backup. The blurb for the book reads: "A major historical and political book in its 150th anniversary year. The Marquis de Custine's insights into mid-19th century Russia offer a deeper understanding of contemporary Soviet society and show what can and cannot be expected from the empire of the czar." Maybe it's like de Tocqueville's journey through America in a similar time period. I have never forgotten that my father wanted me to read it.
Never to late to catch up with good read you've stacked but been, decades or even a half-life getting back to Elizabeth.
I built up quite a helpful, eclectic selection of books during a shortish period, starting back in October 1992, when I was involved in a project to set up a Western-model management development programme with an institution in Moscow. It got broken up for lack of bookshelf space some time after my involvement involvement in the Moscow project ended. Thankfully some 'choice' I have retained but a problem remains: which box in stacked boxes of books that are in need of sorting now are they in? Enjoy reading Astolphe de Cuistine (not an author or book I've come across), and thinking here and there, I'm sure, of things your father said.
Is there any cultural resonance that the narrator's kill was a goose? I found that there are staged goose fights in Russia. These are organized entertainments. Is the narrator depicted in a mocking way because his 'first' is combat with a goose? I had also wondered about narrator stabbing goose with a saber after neck broken. The use of 'first' echoes Savitsky in pulse 1 when his dispatch order to a military officer states not their 'first' (also geese probably not the foe at front.)
Interesting questions Anne. I took it to be self-mocking but also the harbinger of his stepping into the world of war and his need to compromise for survival and for belonging with those who have power as well as to be able to use his skills for 'the greater good.' I took the stabbing of the goose as bravado and the need to show he was unafraid of a weapon of war, even if it was just to pick up a dead goose. He could not show the compassion he felt for the old woman or any connection to her all he had to shove her away. Yet it resonated that they were the only two who wore glasses.
I thought it was interesting that the story is ‘My First Goose’ not for instance, ‘The Goose’ - the implication being that the narrator, once started, continues to act in this way.
Yes but also a bit of self mocking in that the Cossacks would be talking about the humans they have and will kill in the 'real fighting.' His means of acceptance and protection is to kill a goose and push an old nearly blind woman in the chest. There is at very least a hint of regret and compromise.
I wish you would talk a little bit more about what defines a pulse.
Everything that you have listed as a pulse is external action, but you also define a pulse as a "unit of meaning." To me, meaning is about internal action or at least the meaning that's inferred by the reader.
If you'd asked me to identify the first "unit of meaning" of the story, I would've said, "Narrator becomes afraid of rejection," or something along those lines, because I feel like the plot hinges on his fear of rejection.
I know that you said that this is just one way to look at story, so maybe this is a ridiculous question or maybe everyone's pulses are equally valid, but I'd like to hear more about how you see it.
I asked this in the previous post, and I didn't get a response, so could some of you like this to make it more visible?
Thanks for persevering and getting this detailed discussion up and running Amy. There’s lot of getting-right-down-to-it in this thread and the clarity of the discussion is very, very helpful. Again, thank you, Amy, Mary, All.
So if we turn, now, to practical methods for identifying pulses, one rule of thumb might possibly be:
Re-tell the story with 'but' or 'so' connecting all of the moving parts. The bits between the 'but's and 'so's are the pulses. For example...
Savitsky embodies the theatre and threat of violence for the narrator's new assignment
BUT
The quartermaster seems quite sympathetic to his position (carries trunk, explains the unfairness...)
BUT
QM changes his aspect and the Cossacks are not sympathetic (tip trunk contents away)
SO
Narrator abuses the old woman and the goose
SO
The Cossacks show new respect for the narrator
SO
They ask him to read from the paper
BUT
The narrator's soul is torn in two
I moot this not as a definitive answer to the problem, of course, but as a way of thinking about this whole issue, which is so interesting (thanks to all for providing such food for thought in this thread and others):
This resonates with me oddly enough because I work for a software company that analyzes software and we talk about concepts like Causality.
The first couple of lines in Wikipedia define causality as: Causality (also referred to as causation, or cause and effect) is influence by which one event, process, state, or object (a cause) contributes to the production of another event, process, state, or object (an effect) where the cause is partly responsible for the effect, and the effect is partly dependent on the cause. In general, a process has many causes,[1] which are also said to be causal factors.
Since I am more of a writer than a developer, I associate these thoughts to story. The bowling pins hovering are causes that are set up and only come down when they trigger (or help trigger) an effect. Call these micro-causes and micro-effects that weave through the pulses--the TTCMA.
(Tangent: Just imagine each line between a micro-cause and a micro-effect as a shimmering color. The most beautiful story will be the ones with the most complex, yet harmonious colors.)
Without the larger structure of the pulses, though, these micro-causes have no context or meaning. Humans aren't particularly interested in random noise. We search for patterns -- these actions caused some effect and the world changed and I'm interested in why it changed and how it might change again.
Thinking about the pulses as cause and effect (because of this, that happened), there seems to be two intertwined strands. External/physical: Narrator is given an assignment, because of that the QM dumps him on the Cossacks, because of that (and the intertwined internal chain) the Cossacks abuse him, because of that he kills the goose, because of that they accept him.
Internal strands: The narrator is an intellectual, because of that the commander (and QM) teases him, because of that the narrator girds his loins, because of that he is prepared to act when the Cossacks abuse him, because of that he kills the goose, because of that he is struck with guilt.
If you took one of these away the chain is weakened. For example, if we didn't have the pulse with the Commander, how would we read the killing of the goose? We wouldn't know how the narrator came to be there, we wouldn't see the narrator experiencing the Commander's merry violence, we wouldn't see the narrator preparing for the violence of the Cossacks, etc. The story could still work but perhaps the effect would be thinner and less colorful because there would be fewer cause-effect lines running through the story.
Maybe a pulse is a unit of interrelated action and internal movement that causes the next pulse.
As Jane says, it's sot so much an external scaffolding that you create like putting lego blocks together so much as it is a way of getting under the hood to see why the story works.
I think these exercises, e.g. identifying pulses, defining "pulse" etc. are ways to loosen up the anxiety of writing stories, get the intuition and the intellect working together, kneading them together. Not so much looking for correct definition as developing a physical ease with how fiction works.
I'm not fond of the word "pulse" for this; it's too ambiguous.
My current, provisional understanding is that the external actions aspect of the definition is just to mark off what part of the story we're speaking of--the property lines.
The *content* of the pulse is an accretion of specifics sufficient to tip the lever inside that tells us, "Something is a bit 'off' or 'too much' here; it has drawn my attention, and the storyteller has to do something with it at some point."
I don't think of it as change so much as a set-up that has specifics, a bowling pin has been thrown upward. The next pulse must throw another pin in the air, entail the juggler getting on a unicycle, let a lion into the ring, or whatever. And eventually the bowling pin comes down, is caught in a specific way (the juggler reaches for the pin but falls from the unicycle, the lion leaps forward and catches the pin in its mouth).
Great question. Interested in seeing what GS and others have to say!
Thank you, Amy. I have been rereading the beginning and end of the story and I think the first pulse builds up the contrast between the narrator (vulnerable, alone, not belonging) and Savitsky (power, strength, celebration, superiority). The end (the last pulse) is very different in terms of how it feels. The narrator falls asleep entangled in the bodies of his comrades, he is part of them, suffering still, but not separated, and a little less vulnerable. By reading Lenin to them, he is even a little triumphant in educating them. So to come back to your question, the meaning of the first unit, in my view, is to show the vulnerability and precariousness of his situation in contrast to the mighty Savitsky.
Each pulse definitely has meaning (has a "why"). But the action within the pulse shows us how Babel reveals that meaning. The pulses are a series of dominoes. They say "This happened and because of this happening, then...." and onward to the next pulse until the end of the story.
I'd like to join in as well! If I had to proffer an answer, I would say a pulse might be defined(ish) by its importance to the causality of the story as a whole. That is, the beat without which a story just couldn't continue, couldn't keep making meaning. "Narrator becomes afraid of rejection" is important exposition, but in and of itself, it doesn't push the story *forward.* The narrator could remain quite passively in that state for a long time. George's pulse--"Narrator gets an assignment"--pushes that narrator into new territory. It's what the story needs to happen for it to *keep* happening, basically. It's escalation. It's the story saying, "Wherever the narrator is now, it's not good enough. It won't test him enough, it won't push him enough. The stakes aren't high enough. Let's take him somewhere where they are, so we can really see what he's made of."
"Unit of meaning" does seem to obfuscate this possible/working definition slightly, though, so I really want to hear what Professor Saunders has to say. I'm kind of worried I've pinned it down too forcefully, and that the ambiguity might have been part of the point--which in my boundless ignorance I've missed.
I appreciate your point about the narrators assignment pushing the action forward. The assignment means that he must go into danger, as opposed to running away when he hears, "You're a grown man, but you're about to get the sh*t beat out of you, like a junior high school kid, because you wear glasses."
However, the assignment itself doesn't really do it for me, as a reader. If all that happened was that he got an assignment, I'd be bored to death. The thing that pushes the story forward for me is the fear. It's not just his fear, but my fear for him. I read more because I want to know how the situation will resolve itself.
Yes Amy, I'm with you. 'Fearing' is a form of emotion of engagement, and what's more deep rather than shallow engagement. A further frisson of 'fear' must come with knowing that while you hope the situation may resolve itself you know that, possibly, it will not.
I definitely agree! A pulse on its own pushes the plot forward, but it can't necessarily make us *care.* This pulse only works because we read it as a deepening/escalation of the narrator's already established fear. The meaning of the pulse is defined by all that "how," which is really a question of who and when and where and why, not to mention so much else!
A distinction between pushing the plot forward (mechanical) and pushing you, the reader, forward (psycho-emotional) should definitely be made. A series of coherent pulses doesn't define whether a story is successful or not, that is, doesn't define whether you keep caring and reading to the end or not. It's simply a diagnostic or blueprint for what the story seems to be trying to do: "Well, the assignment seems to be the big plot point here. Now that I know, does the author succeed in making it interesting and/or meaningful?" As George said, "Once we knew what work the scene was doing, each team knew what it had to do - it knew the flavor of what it had to do." Once we know what a scene is for, then we can start judging it.
I think you've got it regarding causality. Here's what George wrote when he explained his idea of pulses: "What makes a story a story is the way one pulse leads to the next, which produces that lovely story-feeling. (“Ah, this led to that.”)" I think maybe the trick is to not get caught up with the word "meaning." Or to think of it more as "something meaningful happened" that will lead to the next "meaningful thing that will happen."
Aye! There' s the mechanics, the pump which we might give title to i.e
'Narrator gets asignment' or some such, and then there is the action resultant, the blood that is pumped, and pulses on to the next pumping station, enriched...
Yeah, Mary, that's a good point. I think one of the reasons I found it confusing was because when George discussed finding "The Hollywood version" in his previous post, he talked about summarizing the story this way, "man is rejected, then gets accepted." And, he identified that as the larger meaning of the individual elements of the story.
Yes, i can understand the confusion. "Man is rejected, then gets accepted" is the "why" of the story--the purpose for writing it in the first place. The pulses are the "hows," as in "how it came to pass that the man was rejected and then accepted." I don't mean to speak for George here, but that's how I understand it.
I see your point. I think I mistook, "Man is rejected, then gets accepted" as something internal, but it isn't. It's an overview of an external thing that happened to the man.
I love that last sentence! Thank you! It's a great summation, and I think you've hit the nail on the head. Building off that, I'd say my working definition for a pulse would have to be something like: "a primary causal/escalatory event in a story." Or, as you put it, a meaningful event that will lead to the next meaningful event. It's that fundamental action/reaction, bowling pin relationship, and, as Niall noted upthread, it's intimately connected with change. Our need for it and the story's need for it (which are, of course, the same thing). If we return to George's concept of the "what" and the "how," it might even be termed the ur-concept behind the "what."
I absolutely adore how, in writing, so many seemingly different concepts turn out to be the same concept, just seen from different angles. This object-like tendency is so marvelous for contemplation, isn't it?
I think you're right--that sometimes we're all saying the same thing. But for it to hit home, we often need someone saying it in just the right way that speaks to us in that particular moment. I think what George is showing us here is the way to move a story forward. There's always an internal story at the same time as the external action. But a scene (usually) can't be simply internal. Something has to happen! And each thing that happens (and moves the story forward with new meaning)--well, that's your pulse. I think.
Good question. Was looking for pulses in two other stories. Since pulse suggests a moving something along (as in heart beating keeps blood flowing) perhaps a pulse in a story is the same--a moving the story along, making the reader want to keep reading, whether internal or external, front story or back story. George seems very into what keeps the reader interested, and that makes a lot of sense to me.
Oh, I love that comparison. That makes so much sense. It's a pulse of a story the same way our pulse moves our blood. It's the external action because it must be observable.
I think that's such an interesting question... I know I'm not George, but if I may join in with it...
I suppose 'change' would be my own take on this.
Change of scene, perspective, action, character, time, pace, mood, ...
So, I suppose where I feel a change, that's where I feel a new pulse.
Like when you're pegging out the washing and the world darkens and your hands pause for a moment, and you become aware that the world had been made... different, somehow, as the sun slid behind a cloud. You feel a few more fears and a little less hope... then, you sit in that for a while, that new pulse.
If there's external change then usually there's internal change.
If there's internal change then there's usually external change.
If there's external change but no internal change, that also is meaningful.
If there's internal change but no external change, that also is meaningful.
I guess the writer's work is to create the shifting world for the reader... you'd perhaps think that often the effective way to do this is through action/dialogue/sensory details... external I guess you could say.
Not sure if this defines pulses so much, but it seems like it's in the mix somewhere
And as always, what in the "pulse" keeps the reader reading--is it in this first one that the narrator is clearly in danger, along with the dazzling language, and we want to know what is going to happen next . . .
I don't read or speak Russian Maria but I think that it - could - prove marvellous to have yourself and others, like Kate Braithwaite perhaps, make some recordings that George may have to hand to, possibly, share.
My thought is that I don't speak Italian or German or French either but have certainly enjoyed listening to selections from operas written and performed in each of these languages, and also enjoyed different recordings of the same opera.
Sadly some drastic changes in my schedule knocked me off course right after reading this story and suddenly I've been away for seven months, but thankfully I've been taking good notes. The story didn't resonate very strongly with me on that first read, and I think in part that had to do with it coming right after "The Stone Boy" (which I found incredibly moving and my favorite story so far), though I am curious if my feelings will change after this break.
You brought up two details I overlooked. The first is the comparison of Savitsky's legs not to girls' legs but to entire girls, and how oddly this feminine description stands with his otherwise overtly masculine character. The second is how the gleeful way he whips the air will contrast later with the narrator's attitude toward his own violence.
I also find your perception of the narrator interesting. I saw him as not dissimilar to the first of the less interesting alternatives you brought up i.e. the nerd who wishes he wasn’t one. To me he came across, though maybe not as self-loathing as that, as eager to prove that his intellectual status did not make his temperament more sensitive and or lessen his ability to perform his war duties. In my reading, I saw him not so much unfazed by Savitsky as in denial that he might be different.
So here are the questions I have now:
When the narrator asserts himself as capable, does he know this to be true, or does he want and hope this to be true without actually knowing?
Why is he eager to continue with his assignment despite the anti-intellectual prejudice? Is he unfazed, or is he motivated out of spite?
Hi Everyone,
With the first pulse, the narrator is in the presence of a Divisional Commander (or Nachdev), who is both rakish, note the jaunty aspect of his cap, along with the jackboots (over the knee), and also, if the narrator is Babel's counterpart, roughly the same age (Semyon Timoshenko and Isaac Babel had a difference in age of five months between them). The divisional commander is gigantic, also, his every act implies the potential to cleave anything, even air. There is something of a virility challenge going on, which for the narrator, to survive, escalates to threatening the half-blind old women (who wants to hang herself) and murder - crushing its skull with his boot (talk about cross-talking/cross-painting). The threat is always there - note the note to Chesnokov - and such threats were not idle, the joy in the eyes of Savitsky, rings of the music of power that revels in the seduction of its violent potential, all of which marks out the narrator as an almost unwitting but quick on the uptake tight-rope walker.
All the best,
Darryl Cooper
I am lost in this first pulse - the narrator gets an assignment from his cruel commander. There is no fear in the writing. Instead there are some form of admiration, a hint of homoeroticism and sarcasm. Yet at the same time, there is a treat to our narrator. It's mind-boggling.
Playing catch, as I caught a bit of luck in a new job after being unemployed for almost a year -- yada yada yada. Anyhoo.
Thanks George, for unpacking so much, which, I'm grateful, corresponded mostly with my own instincts and impulses regarding the story. A relief, to feel on the right tracks.
Not to dawdle, I just wanted to comment on this notion early on in your Pulse 1 post, in addressing "why and how" of scene, something Im going to write down on a post it and attache above my computer, that the narrator is given an assignement -- it is important who and why athe assignement is given. This is addressed in footnote. But -- and here's what interested me most -- the writer doesn't get any points for merely describing the character accurately. The writer needs to use attributes, focuse and exaggerate certain ones in order to "make the character" live on the page.
Early in my writing career, I got a lot of compliments on my "description" and "interest detail" even "lyrical prose" and because of that I think I used it as a crutch -- if I just described well enough it would somehow "work". This was not the case. It took a comment former teacher on a well-detailed/described story to beging to shake this out of my head: "A story is more than just a collection of detail." And even then it took more time for me to finally make the leap from the safety of the rooftop of description across the alley way to the rooftop of meaningful detail, if that make sense.
Also, I was struck by noting of how particular details in the beginning of the story are taken up ore alluded to later. It was something that Stu Dybek would say gives the story "an inner life". He stumbled onto this in his own story, The Long Thoughts, when he had to resolved a character leaving his glovdes in the dryer at a laundry mat earlier in the story, and did so by haveing the character say "The hell with them." It really stood out to others. It made me think of how a comedian will make a joke and then later on the act reference or allude to it -- the delight of the audience is always remarkable, on a different leve, which often makes it good way to wrap a routine.
Okay. Sorry for being windy. Appreciate all the great insights and guidance.
was it William Faulkner that said that each scene either had to reveal character or move the story forward (and in some cases both I think?)
Interesting to read others thoughts here about what defines a pulse - and just what it's purpose is.
In scene structure for filmmaking, writers and directors (and actors obviously) understand and analyze a scene in terms of "beats". A scene could have any number of them, but by the end of the scene things have changed and are now pointing in a new direction
I'm trying to be careful not to assume that works the same way with short stories, but it feels similar, in a way, to the notion of George's "pulses". Here maybe the pulse is the entire thrust of the scene, and not the individual beats of story within a scene.
Both terms call to mind a heartbeat, one leading and propelling us to the next thing, keeping it flowing, keeping us interested. Also, a pulse for me not only propels the story forward, introducing question and answer pattern that happens on a subconscious level about character, story (George's bowling pins) but the main thing for me is the feeling it instills (he says at the end of this pulse that he'll get along with the cossacks, but will he? anxiety, fear) For it to effectively "pulse," you have to feel something, if the entire story is going to resonate. We may not know why exactly on an intellectual level, but we've felt it.
Apparently, Babel is not the first person to think of a woman in connection with a man's lower leg: https://www.pinterest.com/pin/4011087160010227/ -- a pair of Thracian greaves (armor for the lower leg) with women's faces on the knee cap. You can find more examples though I do warn you that it is something of a rabbit hole.
very interesting, thanks. Also my Pinterest feed is now going to look very different !
As usual I got distracted by something silly in the post. This is why I never did well in school. That goose picture is hilarious. The longer I looked at it the harder I laughed. That diva goose was in the middle of stuffing his face when the stage manager was like, it's your cue! and with food still dangling from his beak he steamrolls over the innocent actor, wings wide, ready to shine!
I would like to register a complaint regarding no alert for unwarranted humor. Now I have flecks of oatmeal over my keyboard and tears in my eyes. I will never look at a goose the same.
Sorry!! ❤️❤️❤️
Well, you are forgiven. I am still laughing. Amazing to me how a sketch of sentences can evoke a whole story.
I have not been very active in the comments, as I usually confine my thoughts and exercises to a notebook, but I just wanted to respond to the very last bit of this post. Thank you for doing this, George. This is a very good thing in my life as well. I feel enriched and improved after every single post. My writing is nothing but a fun hobby, so I am not here expecting to be published anytime soon, but this still gives me joy and helps me along with that hobby. Not to mention how it has improved my experience reading stories.
I like the “character+action” as driving the plot, as was discussed by GS previously—so, here’s my go at it. But, I’m thinking the “character+act(s) driving the plot” becomes the “pulse” as the story fills in with details, is that a way to look at it?
Such a good story — my simple plot. A story of humanity vs. inhumanity, and the quest for survival within such a paradox.
Survival = disarm the power/fear
A (Russian/Jewish) lawyer is conscripted/enlisted into a war/conflict in early 1900s Russia. An educated man, unlike the band of men that he is assigned to, he moves to position himself in mind and body to survive the life of a soldier among soldiers, and that of the wider war/conflict.
1. Jackboots = cruelty, authoritarian symbol (Cruelty sets the story/plot.)
2. Chesnokov/narrator - makes a mockery of the symbol and the power it is intended to have over him by “feminizing” Savitsky, the commander—referring to the legs with the boots as girls, weakens the symbol, weakens the power over him. Chesnokov needs this to “psych-himself-out,” if you will; to elevate his psyche to survive what he is about to endure—disarm the power/fear. (Disarm the power/fear — drives the plot.) (How can one not chuckle at the description of his welcoming by the men? I chuckled and cringed at the same time — disarming fear of the newcomer.)
3. My First Goose, refers to his first “kill-murder.” (Proves he is one of the men-disarm them - drives the plot.)
4. The characters have agency, even under such dire circumstances. One example, the quartermaster is empathetic and indifferent to Chesnokov, at his choosing. (The action of each character drives the story/plot.)
5. The woman wants to hang herself before his aggression toward her, and after — she tells him so — he did not change her with his violence — she was in control. (Disarm the power/fear — drives the plot)
6. I love the language and how the reader feels what the character feels. One example, “evening laid its motherly palms on my blazing forehead.”
7. The conflicted reverence felt by the reference to the “truth among the lies” of Lenin’s speech as Chesnokov and the men experience it. (Conflict within them all—lands the plot)
8. In my view, this says it all “— and only my heart, crimson with murder, creaked and bled.”
Wow George thank you. What a teaching post. I haven't had lot time to be active on community comments but following ur posts has been instructive, energising about stories workings, and is a 'very good thing in my life' too!
Learning so much, from your tone.
I've been thinking about this story and the Lu Hsun story 'An Incident', and I'm struck by the similarities - a first person account of a 'small' incident that reveals so much about the character and creates for them an intense moment of introspection. But in Lu's piece, the moment of introspection is brought more heavily into focus (so much so, that the entire story is framed around it), whereas in Babel, we get a leaving and returning to the courtyard and an admission of 'languishing' and that is all (on the surface level). And that got me thinking about this key difference - Lu's as a framed story vs Babel's as an unframed story. How would 'My First Goose' work as a framed story? Would it work? How does the presence/absence of the frame change the escalation of the story and the reader's 'take-away'?
I'm still struggling with the answers to these questions, but part of me recalls our earlier conversations around 'An Incident' and how the frame acts as a legal argument of sorts - 'this is the truth of the matter, and this is how I can prove that to you'. So, without a frame, we're left uncertain about the fate of our narrator and can not answer our questions about whether this new division/duality in him will prevail, will succeed, will tear him asunder. Will he adapt or will the division eventually pull him one way and into the consequences that necessarily follow?
And what does that mean for the story? In Lu's story, we're left to judge our own actions by the conclusions of the rickshaw passenger (when, in our lives, have we been shamed by our inaction in the face of someone else's honour/courage/decency?), but in Babel's, we're less reflective and more immediately in the story - instead of retrospectively applying the narrator's moral conclusion to our own lives (as we do in 'An Incident'), we're proactively applying our moral judgement and hopes onto our Lenin-reading, goose-killing, pork-eating, languishing, entangled narrator. In this way, Babel reminds me more of Chekhov (hot young Chekhov or stately elder Chekhov, take your pick) - there is no moral judgement; questions of "is it good or bad? forgivable or reproachable? reasonable or cowardly?" are merely answered with "yes" (or perhaps, "you decide, if you dare judge")
Hi Mikhaeyla,
I found the observations you've offered and the questions you raised really useful for prompting me to think further about these two stories.
I agree that Lu Hsun's story focuses more on, and makes more explicit, the narrator's introspection. In Babel's story, even though the narrator has made a conscious and considered decision to take certain action (in contrast to the narrator's behaviour in "The Incident", which seemed to me more impulsive/habitual/not fully conscious), we don't obtain much insight at all in "My First Goose" about the narrator's internal deliberations and feelings that lead to him deciding to kill the goose (except that he is "lonely" and tiring of being hassled by the cossacks – and (we surmise) he has calculated that it is simply necessary in order to enable him to get on/survive with this group). Perhaps that absence causes us to "lean in" more in order to divine what is going on in the narrator's mind (and thus consider ourselves how we might act in similar circumstances). One other observation I'd make in this regard is that it seemed to me that, in "My First Goose", the narrator's more objective description of events (in contrast to those of the narrator in "The Incident") might have a similar purpose/effect (i.e., causing us to lean in more).
I like your observations about the effect of framing (or its absence). For me, the first paragraphs of both "The Incident" and "My First Goose" seem to serve similar functions, insofar as they establish the respective character of the stories' narrators. Then the main events follow and, in the final paragraph of both stories, the narrators describe their reactions to their conduct. Like you, it seems to me that there is little ambivalence in Lu Hsun's narrator's evaluation of the moral value of his (and the driver's) actions. In Babel's story, the narrator's emotional reaction is clear, but Babel leaves us to consider (as you pointed out) whether the narrator's actions were "good" or "bad", and whether we would, in similar circumstances, act in the same way the narrator did. My take-away (which I think is similar to yours?) was that the absence of an end-frame in "My First Goose" best serves this particular story because of that ambivalence. On my reading, there is also potentially some cross-talk between that ambivalence/absence of explicit moral judgment and the narrator's reporting of Surovkov's comment about Lenin's ability to pull the truth "out of the pile" .. "like a hen pecking at a grain". I am sure Surovkov's comment has other layers of meaning, but it seemed to me that, in describing one of the cossacks offering a powerful simile/image in this way (i.e., like an intellectual?), Babel is showing us the capabilities that lie within different "types" (and thus each of us) – a soldier is capable of offering a powerful simile, which we would typically consider an "intellectual" activity, and the narrator, an intellectual, has shown himself capable of killing in order to survive in the particular environment that he is in. In this way Babel could be said to be highlighting a commonality/potential that exists in all of us.
One further thought I had regarding framing: if Babel's story included an introduction like the one in "The Incident" (i.e., establishing the narrator's character), it seems to me that we would lose the (effective, and highly entertaining) initial illustration of Savitsky's and the narrator's respective character (because the narrator's character would at least be partially established in that intro), including the contrast between them, which also serves to set up the dynamic that's to follow between the narrator and the cossacks.
Anyway, I really appreciated and found useful your comments – thank you for sharing.
Geoff
Geoff, I loved your comments! You're right - the lack of framing in Babel's story almost mirrors the mysterious curve of Lenin's straight line! Having thought about it more, the lack of framing also nicely echoes his admonishment to the old woman "I didn't come here to reason with you" (or, in another translation "I'm in no mood to start debating with you!") - there is no dwelling on this moral quandry for our narrator, no rationalisation can be achieved, no justification made. It is, simply, what it is.
And yes, there would be no wonderful Savitsky introduction with a tightly framed story. Or it would be less impactful. It is as if the framing puts the first person perspective more in focus with Lu's 'An Incident', but in Babel's 'My First Goose', its absence allows us to slide a little into other perspectives - Savitsky, the Quartermaster, the Old Woman, the Cossacks.
Thanks again for your reply - I really enjoyed it and it pushed to venture down the rabbit hole (or along that mysterious curve) a little further...
Just re-reading this and appreciate what you say about the absence of a frame allowing us to slide a little easier into other perspectives - that totally makes sense to me.
I appreciate the spearing across from one story's 'silos' of reading and reflection to another story's 'silos' Mikhaeyla. Such cross comparison is, I'm sure, going to be helpful and will probably add a little more worthwhile reading and reflection to our 'to do lists'.
An immediate thought that crosses my mind is that whereas Lu Hsun's story is, essentially, worked around a single salient incident Isaac Babel's works around series of salient incidents (or could I just as well say 'pulses'?)
da da da DUM DUM DUM da da da da > 'An Incident' ?
da DUM da DUM da DUM da DUM da DUM > 'My First Goose' ?
Recently read 'A Letter', which is a story from early in Red Cavalry and seems a dizzying story in a frame in a frame in a frame... quite an interesting place to go for comparison
Have requested 'Red Cavalry' from the library, but while I was searching for it, I found this online: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ePR-JWNxdvg My favourite line is early on when the narrator speaks of knowing 'the essence' of things. I feel like that is very much a part of 'My First Goose' - every description (of Savitsky, the Quartermaster, the Cossacks, the old woman): they all speak to their essence. I love how that gives a real sense of honesty and authenticity to the story.
Thanks Niall - will check it out!
Not to distract - rather to complement the work that's going on in response to the hop (MFG #1), . . . the skip (MFG #2) . . . the jump (MFG #3) and successive thumps of Newsletters relating to 'My First Goose' arriving in our Inboxes - I thought I'd signpost you to an article that has been published in today's edition of The Guardian:
https://www.theguardian.com/commentisfree/2022/mar/17/vladimir-putin-power-stories-occupied-jo-nesbo#comments
I've found it intrinsically interesting but also helpful in reflecting on just why, generally, I'm here in the rabbit hole that is Story Club and also on why, in particular, my first encounter with Isaac Babel is proving so richly rewarding. Maybe you might also, in some way, find reading Jo Nesbo's words helpful?
A final thought, just for now: it has occurred to me that , in a sense, what we are doing in working on 'My First Goose' is a form of joint enterprise in which we are seeking to honour Isaac Babel's contribution to the craft of writing by picking up and building from his last words which were, I've learned, "I am asking for only one thing-let me finish my work.”
I just read Jo Nesbo's Guardian article. Thank you. By coincidence this morning as I was driving back from getting my early morning coffee, I heard an interview with a young woman in Ukraine who is working to get Ukraine's story out in the "battle" of stories that is going on between Russia and Ukraine. And, yes, I think you are right that the work of the Story Club is so pertinent. Nesbo writes that the truest stories are the best, but as he also mentions, facts don't always work. Truth can be better revealed sometimes in nonlinear and indirect ways that reach the heart rather than the intellect. I remember a phrase from a writing text--tell it slant. Babel's story is so delicate, so indirect. I apologize if I am off base in my response to your post.
Not off base Elizabeth thanks for sharing your thoughts. I think that the world's progress is paused, all too often stepped back, when 'Leaders' don't rule, decide and act without due regard to the need for heart and mind to be ruling jointly and in harmony.
The more I engage with 'My First Goose' - and in trying, but repeatedly failing, to stay just now within the textual confines of what, possibly for want of better words, I'll label 'The Bounded Pale of Pulse 1' - the more I am finding myself drawn into this short story, the cycle of stories in which it is a sequenced item, the arc of life of its author and fast flowing, ever eddying river of rising sparkling romance and ebbing darkling tragedy that is - so it seems to me, who most assuredly knows little but yet, somehow, enough to know - Russia.
I'm relishing the close reading of the text marked up by Pulse but realising that, for me at the moment, making sense of the authorial choices that Isaac Babel makes in arriving at his original published version of 'My First Goose' goes beyond working the limitations of working just on text alone: context is required, I'm finding, to really get to best grips with not just the one but the more than one, and perhaps several, ways of reading and reacting to 'My First Goose' that suggest themselves to me.
Do the words above strike a chord with you, dear peer reader. passing an eye over this post of mine? Or do they resonate not one jot? Sense or nonsense? Either way, thanks in anticipation should you care to say.
Yes, your comments do resonate. You are saying that we need to know or are drawn to know something of the culture and history of the people? I remember that years ago my father passed along a book to me along the lines of "Russia under the czars." He had served in WWII as an infantryman in France and Germany and was interested in the dynamics of Russia and neighboring countries. He told me that I should read it because I would understand about the people of Russia, their culture and their fate. I was a young mother and didn't have time. I can't find the book now but will search. "My First Goose" certainly carries all sorts of subtextual hints of the complicate history and culture of Russia. I hope I am not misinterpreting your interesting post!
Not in the least Elizabeth. So many of us seem in our varied ways to have made some connection(s) with Russia during the arc of our life stories, and I think many of us feel for the divided self that Russia we perceive - albeit in my case as an outsider - to be: divided that is as between the Russian State and the Russian People.
I found the title of the book my father handed to me: Empire of the Czar: A Journey Through Eternal Russia by Astolphe de Custine. I have ordered a copy from Thrift books as a backup. The blurb for the book reads: "A major historical and political book in its 150th anniversary year. The Marquis de Custine's insights into mid-19th century Russia offer a deeper understanding of contemporary Soviet society and show what can and cannot be expected from the empire of the czar." Maybe it's like de Tocqueville's journey through America in a similar time period. I have never forgotten that my father wanted me to read it.
Never to late to catch up with good read you've stacked but been, decades or even a half-life getting back to Elizabeth.
I built up quite a helpful, eclectic selection of books during a shortish period, starting back in October 1992, when I was involved in a project to set up a Western-model management development programme with an institution in Moscow. It got broken up for lack of bookshelf space some time after my involvement involvement in the Moscow project ended. Thankfully some 'choice' I have retained but a problem remains: which box in stacked boxes of books that are in need of sorting now are they in? Enjoy reading Astolphe de Cuistine (not an author or book I've come across), and thinking here and there, I'm sure, of things your father said.
Beyond the pale been already you have.
Is there any cultural resonance that the narrator's kill was a goose? I found that there are staged goose fights in Russia. These are organized entertainments. Is the narrator depicted in a mocking way because his 'first' is combat with a goose? I had also wondered about narrator stabbing goose with a saber after neck broken. The use of 'first' echoes Savitsky in pulse 1 when his dispatch order to a military officer states not their 'first' (also geese probably not the foe at front.)
Interesting questions Anne. I took it to be self-mocking but also the harbinger of his stepping into the world of war and his need to compromise for survival and for belonging with those who have power as well as to be able to use his skills for 'the greater good.' I took the stabbing of the goose as bravado and the need to show he was unafraid of a weapon of war, even if it was just to pick up a dead goose. He could not show the compassion he felt for the old woman or any connection to her all he had to shove her away. Yet it resonated that they were the only two who wore glasses.
I thought it was interesting that the story is ‘My First Goose’ not for instance, ‘The Goose’ - the implication being that the narrator, once started, continues to act in this way.
Yes but also a bit of self mocking in that the Cossacks would be talking about the humans they have and will kill in the 'real fighting.' His means of acceptance and protection is to kill a goose and push an old nearly blind woman in the chest. There is at very least a hint of regret and compromise.
George,
I wish you would talk a little bit more about what defines a pulse.
Everything that you have listed as a pulse is external action, but you also define a pulse as a "unit of meaning." To me, meaning is about internal action or at least the meaning that's inferred by the reader.
If you'd asked me to identify the first "unit of meaning" of the story, I would've said, "Narrator becomes afraid of rejection," or something along those lines, because I feel like the plot hinges on his fear of rejection.
I know that you said that this is just one way to look at story, so maybe this is a ridiculous question or maybe everyone's pulses are equally valid, but I'd like to hear more about how you see it.
I asked this in the previous post, and I didn't get a response, so could some of you like this to make it more visible?
Thanks so much.
Thanks for persevering and getting this detailed discussion up and running Amy. There’s lot of getting-right-down-to-it in this thread and the clarity of the discussion is very, very helpful. Again, thank you, Amy, Mary, All.
Thank you for saying that, Paul. I'm so glad you appreciate it.
Thanks, Paul. I hope you enjoyed your dinner. Have you checked out my newsletter? You might like it.
So if we turn, now, to practical methods for identifying pulses, one rule of thumb might possibly be:
Re-tell the story with 'but' or 'so' connecting all of the moving parts. The bits between the 'but's and 'so's are the pulses. For example...
Savitsky embodies the theatre and threat of violence for the narrator's new assignment
BUT
The quartermaster seems quite sympathetic to his position (carries trunk, explains the unfairness...)
BUT
QM changes his aspect and the Cossacks are not sympathetic (tip trunk contents away)
SO
Narrator abuses the old woman and the goose
SO
The Cossacks show new respect for the narrator
SO
They ask him to read from the paper
BUT
The narrator's soul is torn in two
I moot this not as a definitive answer to the problem, of course, but as a way of thinking about this whole issue, which is so interesting (thanks to all for providing such food for thought in this thread and others):
This resonates with me oddly enough because I work for a software company that analyzes software and we talk about concepts like Causality.
The first couple of lines in Wikipedia define causality as: Causality (also referred to as causation, or cause and effect) is influence by which one event, process, state, or object (a cause) contributes to the production of another event, process, state, or object (an effect) where the cause is partly responsible for the effect, and the effect is partly dependent on the cause. In general, a process has many causes,[1] which are also said to be causal factors.
Since I am more of a writer than a developer, I associate these thoughts to story. The bowling pins hovering are causes that are set up and only come down when they trigger (or help trigger) an effect. Call these micro-causes and micro-effects that weave through the pulses--the TTCMA.
(Tangent: Just imagine each line between a micro-cause and a micro-effect as a shimmering color. The most beautiful story will be the ones with the most complex, yet harmonious colors.)
Without the larger structure of the pulses, though, these micro-causes have no context or meaning. Humans aren't particularly interested in random noise. We search for patterns -- these actions caused some effect and the world changed and I'm interested in why it changed and how it might change again.
Thinking about the pulses as cause and effect (because of this, that happened), there seems to be two intertwined strands. External/physical: Narrator is given an assignment, because of that the QM dumps him on the Cossacks, because of that (and the intertwined internal chain) the Cossacks abuse him, because of that he kills the goose, because of that they accept him.
Internal strands: The narrator is an intellectual, because of that the commander (and QM) teases him, because of that the narrator girds his loins, because of that he is prepared to act when the Cossacks abuse him, because of that he kills the goose, because of that he is struck with guilt.
If you took one of these away the chain is weakened. For example, if we didn't have the pulse with the Commander, how would we read the killing of the goose? We wouldn't know how the narrator came to be there, we wouldn't see the narrator experiencing the Commander's merry violence, we wouldn't see the narrator preparing for the violence of the Cossacks, etc. The story could still work but perhaps the effect would be thinner and less colorful because there would be fewer cause-effect lines running through the story.
Maybe a pulse is a unit of interrelated action and internal movement that causes the next pulse.
As Jane says, it's sot so much an external scaffolding that you create like putting lego blocks together so much as it is a way of getting under the hood to see why the story works.
I think these exercises, e.g. identifying pulses, defining "pulse" etc. are ways to loosen up the anxiety of writing stories, get the intuition and the intellect working together, kneading them together. Not so much looking for correct definition as developing a physical ease with how fiction works.
I'm not fond of the word "pulse" for this; it's too ambiguous.
My current, provisional understanding is that the external actions aspect of the definition is just to mark off what part of the story we're speaking of--the property lines.
The *content* of the pulse is an accretion of specifics sufficient to tip the lever inside that tells us, "Something is a bit 'off' or 'too much' here; it has drawn my attention, and the storyteller has to do something with it at some point."
I don't think of it as change so much as a set-up that has specifics, a bowling pin has been thrown upward. The next pulse must throw another pin in the air, entail the juggler getting on a unicycle, let a lion into the ring, or whatever. And eventually the bowling pin comes down, is caught in a specific way (the juggler reaches for the pin but falls from the unicycle, the lion leaps forward and catches the pin in its mouth).
Great question. Interested in seeing what GS and others have to say!
Interesting. Thanks!
Thank you, Amy. I have been rereading the beginning and end of the story and I think the first pulse builds up the contrast between the narrator (vulnerable, alone, not belonging) and Savitsky (power, strength, celebration, superiority). The end (the last pulse) is very different in terms of how it feels. The narrator falls asleep entangled in the bodies of his comrades, he is part of them, suffering still, but not separated, and a little less vulnerable. By reading Lenin to them, he is even a little triumphant in educating them. So to come back to your question, the meaning of the first unit, in my view, is to show the vulnerability and precariousness of his situation in contrast to the mighty Savitsky.
Each pulse definitely has meaning (has a "why"). But the action within the pulse shows us how Babel reveals that meaning. The pulses are a series of dominoes. They say "This happened and because of this happening, then...." and onward to the next pulse until the end of the story.
That's true. Thanks, Maria.
I'd like to join in as well! If I had to proffer an answer, I would say a pulse might be defined(ish) by its importance to the causality of the story as a whole. That is, the beat without which a story just couldn't continue, couldn't keep making meaning. "Narrator becomes afraid of rejection" is important exposition, but in and of itself, it doesn't push the story *forward.* The narrator could remain quite passively in that state for a long time. George's pulse--"Narrator gets an assignment"--pushes that narrator into new territory. It's what the story needs to happen for it to *keep* happening, basically. It's escalation. It's the story saying, "Wherever the narrator is now, it's not good enough. It won't test him enough, it won't push him enough. The stakes aren't high enough. Let's take him somewhere where they are, so we can really see what he's made of."
"Unit of meaning" does seem to obfuscate this possible/working definition slightly, though, so I really want to hear what Professor Saunders has to say. I'm kind of worried I've pinned it down too forcefully, and that the ambiguity might have been part of the point--which in my boundless ignorance I've missed.
I appreciate your point about the narrators assignment pushing the action forward. The assignment means that he must go into danger, as opposed to running away when he hears, "You're a grown man, but you're about to get the sh*t beat out of you, like a junior high school kid, because you wear glasses."
However, the assignment itself doesn't really do it for me, as a reader. If all that happened was that he got an assignment, I'd be bored to death. The thing that pushes the story forward for me is the fear. It's not just his fear, but my fear for him. I read more because I want to know how the situation will resolve itself.
Yes Amy, I'm with you. 'Fearing' is a form of emotion of engagement, and what's more deep rather than shallow engagement. A further frisson of 'fear' must come with knowing that while you hope the situation may resolve itself you know that, possibly, it will not.
Thank you!
I definitely agree! A pulse on its own pushes the plot forward, but it can't necessarily make us *care.* This pulse only works because we read it as a deepening/escalation of the narrator's already established fear. The meaning of the pulse is defined by all that "how," which is really a question of who and when and where and why, not to mention so much else!
A distinction between pushing the plot forward (mechanical) and pushing you, the reader, forward (psycho-emotional) should definitely be made. A series of coherent pulses doesn't define whether a story is successful or not, that is, doesn't define whether you keep caring and reading to the end or not. It's simply a diagnostic or blueprint for what the story seems to be trying to do: "Well, the assignment seems to be the big plot point here. Now that I know, does the author succeed in making it interesting and/or meaningful?" As George said, "Once we knew what work the scene was doing, each team knew what it had to do - it knew the flavor of what it had to do." Once we know what a scene is for, then we can start judging it.
Thank you. That makes sense.
I think you've got it regarding causality. Here's what George wrote when he explained his idea of pulses: "What makes a story a story is the way one pulse leads to the next, which produces that lovely story-feeling. (“Ah, this led to that.”)" I think maybe the trick is to not get caught up with the word "meaning." Or to think of it more as "something meaningful happened" that will lead to the next "meaningful thing that will happen."
Aye! There' s the mechanics, the pump which we might give title to i.e
'Narrator gets asignment' or some such, and then there is the action resultant, the blood that is pumped, and pulses on to the next pumping station, enriched...
Yeah, Mary, that's a good point. I think one of the reasons I found it confusing was because when George discussed finding "The Hollywood version" in his previous post, he talked about summarizing the story this way, "man is rejected, then gets accepted." And, he identified that as the larger meaning of the individual elements of the story.
Yes, i can understand the confusion. "Man is rejected, then gets accepted" is the "why" of the story--the purpose for writing it in the first place. The pulses are the "hows," as in "how it came to pass that the man was rejected and then accepted." I don't mean to speak for George here, but that's how I understand it.
I see your point. I think I mistook, "Man is rejected, then gets accepted" as something internal, but it isn't. It's an overview of an external thing that happened to the man.
I love that last sentence! Thank you! It's a great summation, and I think you've hit the nail on the head. Building off that, I'd say my working definition for a pulse would have to be something like: "a primary causal/escalatory event in a story." Or, as you put it, a meaningful event that will lead to the next meaningful event. It's that fundamental action/reaction, bowling pin relationship, and, as Niall noted upthread, it's intimately connected with change. Our need for it and the story's need for it (which are, of course, the same thing). If we return to George's concept of the "what" and the "how," it might even be termed the ur-concept behind the "what."
I absolutely adore how, in writing, so many seemingly different concepts turn out to be the same concept, just seen from different angles. This object-like tendency is so marvelous for contemplation, isn't it?
i love contemplating all of it.
I think you're right--that sometimes we're all saying the same thing. But for it to hit home, we often need someone saying it in just the right way that speaks to us in that particular moment. I think what George is showing us here is the way to move a story forward. There's always an internal story at the same time as the external action. But a scene (usually) can't be simply internal. Something has to happen! And each thing that happens (and moves the story forward with new meaning)--well, that's your pulse. I think.
Nothing more to add! I think you've put it in a way that will hit home for a great many people in a great many particular moments!
Again, thank you, Mary. Every time I read one of your posts, it makes a little bit more sense to me.
Good question. Was looking for pulses in two other stories. Since pulse suggests a moving something along (as in heart beating keeps blood flowing) perhaps a pulse in a story is the same--a moving the story along, making the reader want to keep reading, whether internal or external, front story or back story. George seems very into what keeps the reader interested, and that makes a lot of sense to me.
Oh, I love that comparison. That makes so much sense. It's a pulse of a story the same way our pulse moves our blood. It's the external action because it must be observable.
I suspect it’s because, “narrator becomes afraid of rejection” is not a specific action.
I think that's such an interesting question... I know I'm not George, but if I may join in with it...
I suppose 'change' would be my own take on this.
Change of scene, perspective, action, character, time, pace, mood, ...
So, I suppose where I feel a change, that's where I feel a new pulse.
Like when you're pegging out the washing and the world darkens and your hands pause for a moment, and you become aware that the world had been made... different, somehow, as the sun slid behind a cloud. You feel a few more fears and a little less hope... then, you sit in that for a while, that new pulse.
So, for you, it's everything together, internal and external?
If there's external change then usually there's internal change.
If there's internal change then there's usually external change.
If there's external change but no internal change, that also is meaningful.
If there's internal change but no external change, that also is meaningful.
I guess the writer's work is to create the shifting world for the reader... you'd perhaps think that often the effective way to do this is through action/dialogue/sensory details... external I guess you could say.
Not sure if this defines pulses so much, but it seems like it's in the mix somewhere
And as always, what in the "pulse" keeps the reader reading--is it in this first one that the narrator is clearly in danger, along with the dazzling language, and we want to know what is going to happen next . . .
I re-read the story in Russian, and, the language thrills me more in the original. I will send a recording of the Russian version (parts of it).
I don't read or speak Russian Maria but I think that it - could - prove marvellous to have yourself and others, like Kate Braithwaite perhaps, make some recordings that George may have to hand to, possibly, share.
My thought is that I don't speak Italian or German or French either but have certainly enjoyed listening to selections from operas written and performed in each of these languages, and also enjoyed different recordings of the same opera.