she liked to imagine Max had had in mind for herâfor novels he imagined she might imagine into being were she to come across them one day.
What she wanted from me was not my opinionâhow could one have an opinion of an unwritten novel that might be based on
a title and a squiggle of words?âbut my immediate and, more important, my unreflective reactions.
Because what made me an ideal collaborator, she added pointedly, was that she believed me capable of a truly thoughtless response.
âThanks,â I said.
She stared past me with glazed eyes, then blinked. âOkay,â she said, as if she were waking up. âYouâre right. Okay then. Iâve thought about this and hereâs what Iâve come toâthat Iâve never collaborated with anyone before, so Iâm doubtless wary of doing so, and covering my warinessâmy sadness? my fear?âwith aggression. A familiar pattern becauseâand Iâm on a slight roll now, Charlie, so donât interrupt, pleaseâunlike Mister James, a writer more generously sociable than most, who wrote that the port from which he set out was the essential loneliness of lifeâhardly an unusual journey for an IrishmanâIâve always believed my compass was set in an opposite direction: that the port to which Iâve been heading was the essential loneliness of my life. Can you understand that?â
âYes,â I said.
âYes,â she repeated, and she pushed several pieces of paper across the table. âSo hereâs the listâwhat I wanted to ask you about. And now that Iâve given it to you, do you know what that makes me?â
âList-less?â
âIt is apparent that you are more your fatherâs son than either of you understand.â
âMaybe. But consider this tooâthat because you made your deal with him, heâs become listless too.â
She tapped on the list with the eraser end of a pencil. âTo the task at hand, young man,â she said. âRead them and then tell me, please: Which ones appeal most? Which ones seem of no interest? Which ones inspire your curiosity, andâquestion numéro uno âwhich one do you think I should use as the basis
for my next novelâor, to make it easier on you, why donât you choose three, sayâbut in ranked order of preference.â
I picked up the pages.
âIs that too much to ask?â she said. âToo much responsibility for an innocent young guy like you?â
âInnocent and thoughtless,â I said, correcting her.
âOh Charlie,â she said. âYou shouldnât take my words as seriously as I sometimes do. I was just trying to get a rise out of you. My apologiesâokay?â
âOkay,â I said.
This is the list she gave me:
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Pagelloâs Surgery . Memoirs of an aging Italian country doctor who had once been George Sandâs lover.
A Missing Year . A veteran of the Korean War, suffering intermittently from suicidal impulses, returns home to Kansas in order to marry a fellow soldierâs widowed wife even while he struggles to come to terms with the death of that soldier, an act of murder he may or may not have imagined.
Hector on 9/11 . Story of a Puerto Rican teenager who, on the day the World Trade Center towers come down, has an exceptionally successful 24 hours of romance with his social studies teacher and several frightened teenage girls, all of whom are in extreme need of tenderness and consolation.
Tag Sale . A retired professor at a New England college organizes a tag sale in which he attempts to sell material from his unpublished and/or abandoned novels, and the ways in which this act affects the destinies of people dear to him.
Sky Captain . An Irish priest, chaplain to the crew of a merchant marine training ship, dies in a Marseilles brothel and is transported back across the Atlantic in the shipâs freezer among sides of beef, cartons of