We finished E.B. White's Stuart Little last night, Fans. Those of you familiar with the tale might recall that at its end, Stuart is motoring along in his little car when he is met by a fork in the road, beside which is resting a telephone repair man. When Stuart stops to consider the fork, the two strike up a conversation about the relative merits of the four cardinal points. They agree that a "person who is heading north is not making any mistake." This put Julie in mind of North Toward Home, which Jane first gave her. It's Willie Morris' account his coming of age in the forties, fifties and sixties, imagining his future as this country was remaking itself in those decades, and his pilgrimage, as one reviewer puts it, from the Deep South to the North, which Morris comes to call, of course, home.
Julie finds that one of the greatest joys to come from reading, is the rush of affinity one's heart sometimes feels for the author, even as one's mind cautions against ascribing too much intent and purpose to the author's prose. Last night though, it was hard not to ride the heart's swell, as she read the last lines of Stuart Little, thinking about all the people and places that she labels home, her journey to here and now, and all the accidents and choices that have marked that journey, some--all?--of which brought her to be reading that particular story, on that particular night, to that particular boy, her son, while his dad made dinner in the kitchen and his sister waited up for him in their room. Intellectually, one knows that there is so much chance in a life (and can even admit that there is some comfort in that notion, especially when one has been dealt a blow), but somehow, this recognition stands side by side with what seems equally certain: that this life, was meant to be. Of course it was. It could be no other way. It is hard to hold both of these truths. So says the mind. But the heart knows different, right? It's easy to hold it all there. As easy as holding the little boy, and the little girl, who are just starting out on their way--north, south, east, west.
Stuart does head north and the reader is told that "As [Stuart] peered ahead into the great land stretched before him, the way seemed long. But the sky was bright, and he somehow felt he was headed in the right direction."
We picked up a new chapter book yesterday and don't worry, Fans: it's Beverly Cleary's The Mouse and the Motorcycle, so it's not likely to send Julie off on some metaphysical musing the way Stuart Little did here.