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Short Story Soiree: Sucker by Carson McCullers (1963)

The Mortgaged Heart by Carson McCullers (1972)The Short Story Soiree is back after a short break last week due to my time getting gobbled up by other commitments. Incidentally, this also marks the 100th post on Start Narrative Here, and it’s kind of nice to have a milestone post take place within a week dedicated to my favourite author. In The Mortgaged Heart, Margarita Smith argues that these shorter pieces of McCullers’ writing are examples of early writing exercises rather than fully formed stories. “Sucker” was published in the Saturday Evening Post in 1963, but it is believed that Carson wrote it when she was about seventeen. Included in the documentation of The Mortgaged Heart is a rejection letter dated 1939 listing the twenty six publications that rejected two of McCullers short stories, “Sucker” included.

The Sucker of this short story is the younger orphaned cousin of the narrator, Pete, who share a room together. Pete at sixteen is just beginning to become interested in girls, specifically the coiffed and manicured Maybelle, while Sucker at twelve is a quiet and timid boy who idolizes Pete. Sucker tries to bond with Pete, but Pete is too preoccupied with the perpetually aloof Maybelle. Mimicking Maybelle’s own rejection of Pete, Pete belittles and ignores Sucker and his feelings. Written from Pete’s perspective after the major change in their relationship, he is remorseful over his treatment of Sucker, but aware that he is unable to take any of it back.

Now that Sucker has changed so much it is a little hard to remember him as he used to be. I never imagined anything would suddenly happen that would make us both very different. I never knew that in order to get what has happened straight in my mind I would want to think back on him as he used to be and compare and try to get things settled. If I could have seen him ahead maybe I would have acted different.

As Maybelle starts to pay more attention to Pete, so too does Pete to Sucker. One evening, awakened from the bliss of a dream of kissing Maybelle, Sucker asks Pete if he likes him as much as a brother. Pete responds positively, even calling Sucker “a swell kid.” In this moment Pete realizes that he actually does really like Sucker, probably even more than he likes Maybelle, and they begin to grow closer. As the fluctuating desires of Maybelle turn against Pete, Pete too rages against Sucker, taking out his frustrations on the only person he can. As Pete repeatedly and brutally hurls out insults and insinuates that Sucker is unwanted, something changes in Sucker, a change is visible to Pete even as it is happening. Sucker is never quite the same afterward, a hardness comes into his face, and he retreats. Pete too is changed by this event, but has no way of altering his past behaviour.

More than anything I want to be easy in my mind again. And I miss the way Sucker and I were for a while in a funny, sad way that before this I never would have believed. But everything is so different that there seems to be nothing I can do to get it right. I’ve sometimes thought if we could have it out in a big fight that would help. But I can’t fight him because he’s four years younger. And another thing – sometimes this look in his eyes makes me almost believe that if Sucker could he would kill me.

It’s pretty wrenching stuff, the loss of innocence and faith in other people at such a young age. Disappointments from those who you hold highest always sting the most. Pete’s callous lashing out at Sucker causes irreparable damage to their relationship; and Pete recognizes that his harsh treatment of Sucker is unforgivable. It’s not my favourite McCullers short story (that easily goes to “A Tree, A Rock, A Cloud” which I could probably quite easily spend an entire week talking about), but “Sucker” hits a nerve because of the sensitive treatment of youthful disappointments.

[Also, when I was younger and learning to talk I couldn't pronounce my name - Jessica - properly and so called myself "Sucker." As in Jes-sucker, get it? It's for the best the nickname hasn't stuck beyond the occasional use from immediate family members.]

Poem: Saraband by Carson McCullers

The Mortgaged Heart by Carson McCullers (1972)Though primarily known as a writer of novels and plays, Carson McCullers did also write a little poetry. She even published a book of children’s verse, Sweet as a Pickle, Clean as a Pig, which I believe was only given one print run and seems to be rather scarce today. There are always a few copies on AbeBooks, but always just that little bit out of my price range, perhaps one day I will treat myself to my own copy. Until then, a very small selection of her poetry is available in the posthumous collection of her writing edited by her sister, Margarita G. Smith, The Mortgaged Heart. All of the poetry published in this volume is also available online. The anecdote from Margarita Smith refers to “Stone is Not Stone

This poem called ‘Saraband’ was recorded for MGM records for Carson McCullers Reads (one day I will get that record converted), although McCullers was reciting her poems from memory and forgot four of the lines. I love how appropriately musical the rhythm of this piece is, especially when read aloud. It’s so rhythmic and soothing, especially with couplets such as the darkly beautiful “crown a host of unassorted sorrows/you never could manage one by one”, which reminds me of Elliott Smith lyrics.

Carson McCullers by Carl Van Vechten, 1959

Saraband

Select your sorrows if you can,
Edit your ironies, even grieve with guile.
Adjust to a world divided
Which demands your candid senses stoop to labyrinthine wiles
What natural alchemy lends
To the scrubby grocery boy with dirty hair
The lustre of Apollo, or Golden Hyacinth’s fabled stare.
If you must cross the April park, be brisk:
Avoid the cadence of the evening, eyes from afar
Lest you be held as a security risk
Solicit only the evening star.

Your desperate nerves fuse laughter with disaster
And higgledy piggledy giggle once begun
Crown a host of unassorted sorrows
You never could manage one by one.
The world that jibes your tenderness
Jails your lust.
Bewildered by the paradox of all your musts
Turning from horizon to horizon, noonday to dusk:
It may be only you can understand:
On a mild sea afternoon of blue and gold
When the sky is a mild blue of a Chinese bowl
The bones of Hart Crane, sailors and the drugstore man
Beat on the ocean’s floor the same saraband.

About her poetry, I remember best one evening at a university lecture. After she had recited ‘Stone Is Not Stone’ in her gentle Southern voice, there was a long silence. Then suddenly a young student stood up and said, ‘Mrs McCullers, I love you.’
(Margarita Smith on Carson McCullers’ poetry in The Mortgaged Heart)

[Photo Credit: Carson McCullers in 1959, by Carl Van Vechten from the Library of Congress collection]