Interview #9

Arthur "Boo" Radley is an enigmatic, shadowy character from the 1960 Harper Lee novel, To Kill a Mockingbird, from Lippincott.  He does not speak on stage, is reclusive, painfully shy, known to be devoted to young persons, protective of them.  He was thought to be in his early forties, portrayed in the filmed version of the novel by the actor Robert Duvall.

Interviewer:  Being a product of a small Alabama town in the years of the Great Depression, presumably never venturing far, you probably had some early opinion of Bob Ewell before Tom Robinson was brought to trial for the alleged rape of Mayella Ewell.


"Boo" Radley:


Interviewer:  I take it, that's a no. No, you had no association with the Ewells?


"Boo" Radley:


Interviewer:  To have protected Miss Jean Louise Finch, otherwise known as "Scout," must have called upon feelings that resonated with some experience in your past.


"Boo" Radley:

Interviewer:  I take it, that's too painful for you to relive, even at this remove of fifty years.

"Boo" Radley:


Interviewer:  Because of the immense popularity of "To Kill a Mockingbird," scholars and critics have found opportunities to relate its characters to prevalent types in the South in general and, more specifically, in rural Alabama.  The attorney, Atticus Finch, and his nemesis, Bob Ewell, are seen as representing two prevalent aspects of contemporary attitude, seemingly at perpetual loggerheads, and you are frequently seen as a kind of Benjy Compson character, so tortured and troubled by the racial and social conflicts about you that you are rendered inchoate.

"Boo" Radley:  I really take exception to the comparison between me and Benjy Compson whom, you must recognize, stands out in an ironic turn as the most reliable of all narrators in The Sound and the Fury.  I'm not given dialogue in Mockingbird because my actions speak for themselves, using violence only when needed in the most absolute moral sense, being aware of and understanding youngsters but having hopes for their growth and development into sound, thinking individuals who have the opportunity to grow even beyond the example of simple decency and probity of Atticus Finch as opposed to the continuous, hopeless prospects of Mayella, who, we are given to understand,was abused at least physically by her father, possibly even sexually as well.  I am in place in the novel as the apparent presence of non-intellectual and non-traditional good, a kind of Rousseauvian parallel to Atticus Finch, Natural Good, you might say, a trigger that causes Sheriff of Maycomb County,Heck Tate, to invent the greater good for the most positive and telling outcome.  Remember, the jury, in spite of reasonable doubt, finds Tom Robinson guilty of the charges against him, a clear case of justice being shunted aside by the combined forces of bigotry and tradition.  I needed to be and was pleased to be called upon to step out of my own protective cocoon, not only to protect Jean Louise and Jeremy Atticus from physical harm but to give the entire of Maycomb County an outcome that could be instructive.

Interview #8

To hear Matthew J. Bruccoli tell it--and there is scant reason not to listen-F. Scott Fitzgerald 's last-minute decision to cast Nick Carraway as the narrator of The Great Gatsby was the crowning touch that sent his 1925 novel blazing across the skies of memorable American fiction.  Until his death in 2008, Bruccoli had turned his scholarly interest into a cottage industry, producing books, essays, and scholarly annotations that form a major platform for the way Fitzgerald is read, interpreted, and taught. He has presented more than one photo of the proofs that were to have been the final author's set prior to being formatted in page proofs, the then final production stage before Gatsby was printed.

Along with the photos showing Fitzgerald's heavy handwritten emmendations, Bruccoli also found a note Fitzgerald sent to his editor,Maxwell Perkins, expressing his enthusiasm for the implications.  To the point of Fitzgerald's epiphany, Carraway had appeared as a minor character; now he was in effect the stand-in for the author himself.  Born in Minneapolis in 1892, Carraway was four years older than his creator, who was born in St. Paul.  Both men attended Ivy League schools, both served in WorldWar I.
Carraway was 33 when Gatsby was published, Fitzgerald was 29.


Interviewer:  Do you think Fitzgerald decided to use you as his principal narrator because of the fact that you were Daisy's cousin?

Carraway:  As one of Fitzgerald's contemporaries, that Hemingway fellow, might have put it, isn't it pretty to think so.  Truth is, old man, Fitzgerald chose me because of my profession.

Interviewer:  You were--

Carraway:  A bonds salesman.  I represented something important to Fitzgerald.  Make no mistake about it, Gatsby was all about money.  Old money.  New money.  Rich money.  Poor money.  He chose me because I was decent, did not impart powers to money that money did not have.


Interviewer:  But didn't Gatsby use you?


Carraway:  To connect with Daisy?  You can think that if you wish; no skin off my nose.  He'd have found her without me, sooner or later.

Interviewer:  You make it sound as though they were fated to meet.

Carraway:  Well, of course, they were destined.  Romeo and Juliet were similarly destined.  There'd be no story without them.  There'd have been no Gatsby without Daisy having married Tom.  For that matter, you'll recall that television series, MASH?

Interviewer:  And?

Carraway:  There'd have been no Mash without the character of Frank Burns.  He made the humor work.  Theater of the impossible, as it were.  Without Daisy having married Tom, Gatsby would have simply not taken off.

Interviewer:  You said, toward the end, that Gatsby was a romantic.  Isn't it possible that he took you in?

Carraway:  My dear fellow, I'm not so simple minded as you suggest.  Because I've made a few good investments, kept myself focused, that's no sign that I was taken in.  Gatsby'd've given a pretty penny to have had my sensibility and background.  Yale, you know.  Gatsby could not have survived at New Haven.  Think of it, man.  Jay Gatz.  From one of the Dakotas.  Yes, I said it; Gatsby was a romantic.  Thought because he made money fast, bought shirts at Turnbull and Asser, he could turn Daisy's head.  To her, however much money he had, he was still a poor boy.  And you know what Daisy said.  She said, Rich girls don't marry poor boys.


Interviewer:  Do you think all romantics are fools?


Carraway:  Not fools, merely impractical in a world where practical matters matter most.  Gatsby, in the end, was not practical.  Not at all practical.

Interview #7

 Sisyphus was a character from Greek mythology, his actual existence every bit as uncertain as the alleged creator of The Iliad and The Odyssey, the supposed poet, Homer.  As those two iconic epics evoke the name of Homer today, the mere mention of Sisyphus conjures the image of an individual every bit the analog of the biblical figure of Job, playing out the role that made him famous.  In the case of Sisyphus, the role was the eternal chore of pushing a large boulder to the top of a hill, only to see it tumble down to the bottom where, once it came to rest, Sisyphus was fated to repeat the action.  Many of the accounts of Sisyphus and his severe punishment imply that he was in fact a king, one who had been given his punishment by the gods, Zeus among them, for, among other things, the temerity to assume he was on the same level as the gods.

The plight or, if you will, task, or punishment of Sisyphus is, in some critical deconstruction, a metaphor for boring, repetitious work that in addition to its unvarying routine is meaningless.


Interviewer:  There were those commentators who claimed you were assigned your punishment by Zeus for revealing secrets of the gods to mortals.

Sisyphus:  Are you suggesting I was revealing secrets as a way of demonstrating my importance?


Interviewer:  Other commentators still infer your punishment came as a result of your having flirted with one of Zeus' mortal, er, girlfriends.

Sisyphus:  I could tell you some stories about that old fart, Zeus, like the real skinny on that Leda and the Swan routine, but hey, I'm in this gig for eternity as it is.  No telling what would happen if I told what I knew.


Interviewer:  A twentieth century thinker posited in a longish essay using your name, that you are essentially a happy person because of the task assigned to you for all eternity.  He goes on to argue that  humans distrust chaos, are drawn to order and certainty.

Sisyphus:  Crazy Frenchmen.  Leave it to one of them to come up with such a theory.  Camus, right.  Al Camus?  All I can say is, before you can be so goddamned sure--get my joke there?--about a man's existential condition, try pushing a boulder in his shoes for an eternity or two.


Interviewer:  So you are not happy at your work?

Sisyphus:  I get by, but that's because I'm not afraid to put my mind to use.  Pushing a rock up a hill, you can see things from a whole new perspective.  The wife comes around, complaining we don't have as much quality time as before, and my mother, always with the "You never call, you never write."  Like I have all this time to call her.  Some graduate students come around, wanting to do their thesis on me--what they call my plight.


Interviewer:  Is your condition a plight?


Sisyphus:  I could never figure what the fuck a plight was.  Sounds like some colo-rectal disorder, you get me.  Listen, my father and his father before him, they were kings.  Lot of fucking good it did them.  Dead before their time, if you get my drift.  Me, I've got something they never dreamed of.  I've got job security.  Now if you'll excuse me, I got to get back to my boulder.

Interview #6

William "Bill" Sikes first appeared in 1836, when a serial in a magazine edited by an young writer who saw fit to lead off with his second novel, Oliver Twist, drew immediate attention.  Of all Charles Dickens' many novels, each seeming to deal with a different segment of society, Oliver Twist was memorable for bringing the working classes to life with the then equivalent force evoked by the 2002-08 television series, The Wire.  Sikes was a violent, uneducated man, a some-time associate of the master criminal, Fagin, beyond much doubt engaged in criminal activities because he had scant option to do otherwise.  He is a clear product of a statement being made by his creator, who could well have been seeing himself in some of Sikes' behavior. A number of filmed versions of Oliver Twist have appeared over the years, none more evocative in its presentation of Sikes than the one featuring the actor Robert Newton.  Sikes was frequently accompanied by his bull terrier, Bull's Eye, whom Sikes was seen to beat with some regularity.

Interviewer:  You've won the reputation of being utterly without redeeming quality among all Dickens' characters.  Are you comfortable with that.

Sikes:  Bleeding liberal he was when he wrote that story.  Still angry about his own upbringing and humiliations.  To him, we was more than just driven to crime, you understand.  To him, we was luxuriating in it, so to speak.  Acting out our plight, so to speak.  Wasn't there that time when we had a caper in the countryside and young Oliver, he fell and got his self hurt?  And didn't old Bill here, carry the lad to safety?  And what about all those times I was a great comfort to my Nancy, cosseting her here and there, encouraging her to have another go at life?

Interviewer:  But isn't it also true that after the botched robbery where Oliver was injured, you left Oliver unprotected and ran for safety?

Sikes:  Wasn't I running off to get help for the boy?  Wasn't I worried he'd hurt hisself?  You see the way of it, don't you?  Fellow like Dickens,he forgets how it was when he was in the game.  Next thing I know, you'll be turning on me like that ungrateful Nancy, who was the love of me life.

Interviewer:  While we're on the subject, there is some thought that your relationship with Nancy was more like, shall we say pimp to prostitute.


Sikes:  That's not the way of it at all, mate.  Mind, there was plenty of that going on in Mr. Dickens' London and all.  Nancy, she enjoyed her frolics, and we both got to thinking, why not bring in an occasional spot of coin to pay for our afternoon tea, don't you see?  So I ups and volunteers, Love, I'll be yer manager.  But it was nothing like I made her do it or any such thing.


Interviewer:  There are those who say Fagin was afraid of you.


Sikes:  Look, we're all of us in the Game,don't you know.  We have our little quirks and all.  What I'm sayin' is, Mr. Dickens was looking out for them kids being abused.  Couldn't come right out and say what Fagin was thinking with some of those young lads, that Dodger and such.  I told Fagan right off the bat, I didn't want to see no part of that, and while I was at it, I let him know not to even think of it, you understand.  So maybe I was a bit forceful once or twice in explaining my point of view.  Afraid of me, you say?  Lord, I should hope so.


Interviewer:  Was it really necessary for you to beat Nancy to death?

Sikes:  Don't be blaming me for that, gov.  I was just doing what Mr. Dickens wanted.  Although I got to say, she betrayed me.  Had a good thumping coming for that, don't you know?

Interviewer:  Could you please not hold my collar so tightly?  Thank you.  Now this one final question, speaking of betrayal:  Isn't it true that your own dog, Bull's Eye, led the police to you when you were on the run from killing Nancy?


Sikes:  Never liked that damned dog.  Mr. Dickens, he stuck me with the bloody cur.  And look how it played out.  Damned dog, led John Law right to me.  All this blather about man's best friend.  They just wait for their opportunity.  Then--


Interviewer:  My collar, please.  Thank you.  Then--?


Sikes:  Then they pounce.

Interview #5

 Interviewer:  With all the potential terrains you could have chosen for your home, including some lush terrains of California and the northern states, what drew you to the bleak, precipitous mesas and buttes of the Southwest?

Wile E. Coyote:  The Roadrunner.

Interviewer:   And your goal right now?

Wile E. Coyote:  The Roadrunner.

Interviewer:  Do you see any parallels between yourself and Captain Ahab?


Wile E. Coyote: Gotta go after the Roadrunner.

Interviewer:  Do you see any similarity between your life and the plight of Sisyphus?

Wile E. Coyote:  Sisyphus didn't have the Roadrunner.


Interviewer:  Do you have any sympathy for Brer Fox and his attempts to interdict Brer Rabbit?

Wile E. Coyote:  Fuck no.  Rabbits are a dime a dozen.  Particularly right after Easter.


Interviewer:  You use a number of imaginative devices from Acme Products.  Have you considered using other implements to help you trap the Roadrunner?

Wile E. Coyote:  Like you want me to switch to Amazon?  Maybe Zappos?   It's the way things are written.  I want to use devices, I order from Acme.  No  hassle. No credit checks.  No problems with returns.

Interviewer:  Isn't that something on the order of a country store mentality?

Wile E. Coyote:  Wall-Mart isn't country store?  Listen, I'm way out here in the boonies, miles from home.  No Famous Nathans.  No Zabars.  No Junior's cheese cake.  No Carnegie Tea Room.  No Barney's.  No kids on bikes, delivering Chinese.  No New York Times; I got to settle for the damned Arizona Republic, follow the Mets on ESPN.  You get a goal in life, you take what comes with the territory.  Listen, you think Krazy Kat had it so hot, all this distance from home, not a decent deli in sight?

Interviewer:  How do you cope with the humiliation?


Wile E. Coyote:  You ever read The Bhagavad-Gita?  Talks about one's dharma, one's destiny.  You got a duty, you do it.  No step aside, here that fucker comes.

Interview #4

Interviewer:  Do you feel your biblical name might have been a disadvantage to your career?  Might you have been influenced by the military and kingly implications?

Ahab:  Listen, in those days, when I was, you know, starting out, biblical was all the rage.  King James Bible this, prophets that.  I took some ribbing because of my namesake's wife.  Hey, Abe, so how's Jezabel these days?  But I gave back as good as I got.


Interviewer:  Wasn't that, in fact, your driving personality trait, giving back as good as you got?  And while we're on the subject, I see here you were raised as a Quaker.  Raised in America.  How do you account for your overarching quest for revenge?


Ahab:  Fucking whale.  I'm supposed to sit still for that?  You let some whale get away with such crap, biting off legs and all, they'll be back menacing ships of all sizes, the owners won't stand a chance.

Interviewer:  You forget the sailors.

Ahab:  They're used to getting fucked over.  Free market means free market, right?

Interviewer:  Things certainly haven't gone your way, and yet, look what a symbol of determination you've become.  Do you think you'd have remained so popular over the years if you hadn't lost out in the end?

Ahab:  Always thought it would have worked better to have found that whale before it found me, kick its sorry ass, then come home to Nantucket with this big sign, Mission Accomplished, spanning the entrance to the harbor.  That would have been a real triumph, but I'll say this, old Melville certainly knew his way around story.  People can't help reading it his way and thinking about what might have been.


Interviewer:  As in, Mission Accomplished?


Ahab:  As in, Mission Accomplished.

Interview #3

Interviewer:  Would we be getting off to a rocky start by asking how accurate your third husband's assessment was of you being his purgatory?

WoB:  We'd be on better ground if you got your numbers straight.  That was my fourth husband.  Dramatic sort to the very end.

Interviewer:  And wasn't it at his funeral that you met your fifth husband?

WoB:  Jankyn, you mean.  Actually, I'd been carrying on a flirt with him while number four was still alive and kicking, although kicking is perhaps not particularly apt.  Could not get that man to--how much leeway do we have here?

Interviewer:  Go ahead.

WoB:  Could not get that man to toss much of anything beyond dice and his cookies, if you get my drift.  No way I could lure him into throwing me a toss, if, once again, you get my drift.

Interviewer:  And Jankyn?

WoB:  Hoo boy.  All the difference in the world.  Trick is to find 'em young, get their attention with some kitchen stuff, feed them up, then--

Interviewer:  We get your drift.  How did you get chosen to have such a stellar role in The Canterbury Tales?  Didn't that come as a surprise to you?

WoB:  Piece of cake, really.  The old boy needed some razzmatazz, if you get my drift.  Some of the dudes he picked were, well, what you might call out of the game.  Story has to have some racy parts.  For all the action Jankyn--number five, don't you know--for all the action jankyn is getting, you'll note I had to tear a girlie mag out of his hands, get him to take a look at me.  You see, I not only give Jankyn what he needs, I give the old boy, old Geoff, what he needs too,which is a little--we still got leeway?

Interviewer:  Still good to go.

WoB:  There was some titillation in that Miller's Tale, well enough, what with it being a true and accurate account of life and all, but old Geoff, he needed the real deal, and so he, well, he dreamed me up, and so I gave him what was pretty much a role model.  Knocked the crap out of that Cressyde he come up with.  Didn't do much better when old Shakespeare took her up, either.  No, I gave old Chaucer the best seller list, ever since I came out.  And my secret.  I mean, come on, Sex and the City.  I gave old Chaucer the only way to romp.  Look at it, kiddo.  Still working, six, seven hundred years.

Interviewer:  What is your secret?

Wife of Bath:  Well, sir, the first four times, I did it for money or social advantage, maybe even a touch of both.  But the fifth time?

Interviewer:  The fifth time?

Wife of Bath:  Shoot, I done it for love.  I married Jankyn purely for love. And he knowed it, too.