Henry James addresses an interesting life condition in this story—the deaths of friends. There is a typical James plot to go along with that, with the usual odd and suggestive ambiguities. But I wish he'd stayed with the friends a little more, and the sense of loss. James was in his early 50s when he wrote it, and our hero, George Stransom, is 55. His most painful loss was a fiancée, but there are many other friends as well, including one, Acton Hague, who offended Stransom so deeply he never forgave him. One day, mulling these matters the way James characters will, Stransom wanders into an unfamiliar church, has a strange inspiration, and wins permission from the church to dedicate one of their candlelit alcoves to his friends—all except Hague. Soon enough a woman is involved, who often sits in silence with Stransom at his altar of the dead. Years go by. Slowly Stransom and the woman warm to one another and finally speak and find personal connections. By an amazing coincidence (what a small town London can be), it turns out the woman not only knew Hague but he was important to her. She beseeches Stransom to add a candle for Hague, but Stransom can't do it. The never-specified wrong was too great. In the end, the story and Stransom bend toward forgiveness, but it's left fraught and ambiguous. Because the sin is never specified the situation becomes overly abstract. Sin is sin and forgiveness is supposed to be absolute, but really there's more nuance to it. It's hard to feel too much for or against Stransom without knowing the reason for his break with Hague. But I did like the sense of watching and even standing vigil as friends (and family, not discussed here) inevitably begin to die. The story has some access to the experience of living on with friends even after they have died. For example, a friend of mine died in June 2001, and I often wonder how he would have reacted to 9/11 and all its aftermath. But that kind of thing is not for James. The closest he gets is the loss of Stransom's fiancée, which is so much more intense than a pal they're barely even comparable. But it's a nice idea, and the scenes at the altar of the dead are notably beautiful.
"interlocutor" count = 0 / 36 pages
In case it's not at the library. (
Library of America)
"Standing vigil" sounds better than paralyzed numbness, so I like your phrase. It nicely dignifies what is otherwise just excruciatingly sad. But w/ the James story I can't get past my mental image of the church alcove dedication, imagining a gold plated inscription with a parenthetical ending, excluding my former friend, Acton Hague?!
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