Angelica's Grotto Read Online Free Page A
Author: Russell Hoban
Tags: Retail, 20th Century, Literature, Amazon.com, 21st Century, v.5, American Literature, Expatriate Literature
to draw a tree, please.’
Klein drew the olive tree, smelling as he did so thewarm summer wind and hearing the distant braying of a donkey.
‘Do you draw?’ said Mrs Lichtheim. ‘You have an artistic touch.’
‘I went to art school but I haven’t done any drawing for a very long time.’
‘What can you tell me about this tree?’
‘It’s an olive tree I saw on the island of Paxos the last time my wife – she’s dead now – and I had a holiday there. Olive trees flash silver in the sun when the wind stirs the leaves. They look as if they’re personally acquainted with gods and goddesses. This tree is very old but it still bears fruit. There’s a hole in the trunk and it looks as if the naked Persephone might just have stepped out of that darkness into the green-lit shade of the olive grove. Naked Persephone in the green-lit shade.’
‘When did your wife die?’
‘In 1977.’ Klein was looking at the olive tree in his mind, listening to the wind in the leaves, feeling the Ionian sunlight on his face. ‘Hannelore,’ he said.
‘That was your wife’s name?’
‘Yes.’ He put both hands over his mouth and whispered, ‘She killed herself.’
Mrs Lichtheim allowed a little pause to happen, then she said, ‘If you feel ready we can now do the Rorschach Test.’
‘Yes,’ said Klein. ‘Let’s do it.’
‘I am going to show you ten cards with inkblots. The original blots were made by dropping inks on pieces of paper and then folding the paper in half. There are ten standardised inkblots that have been in use since the Rorshach was introduced in the forties. When I show these to you I’d like you to tell me whatever you can see on the card.’
The first inkblot looked to Klein like a motorcycle seen endwise from the rear. There was no one in the saddle but there was a person on each side with both feet on one of the footrests, one hand gripping a handlebar and the other flung out behind. Both of these people were in silhouette and wore loose black garments that fluttered in the wind.
‘Anything else?’ said Mrs Lichtheim.
‘Only that the motorcycle would have to be going fast enough not to lose its balance and fall over.’
Mrs Lichtheim wrote down his description and in this manner, very slowly, Klein made his way through the Rorshach blots. He described the two jolly fellows wearing conical red hats who, undeterred by being legless and footless, were congratulating each other with a high-five handslap. They might be genies, he thought, just out of a bottle and still trailing smoke.
He described the two black dancers, a man and a woman, evidently romantically involved because of the two red hearts hanging point to point in the air between them. Although the idea of dancing was reinforced by musical emanations from their heads they seemed at the same time to be picking up their luggage or perhaps their shopping.
He described the full-frontal head of a wild boar, pointing out the tusks, the snout, the eyes and ears.
Schwarzwild
was the German name for this animal, and he told Mrs Lichtheim about infant
Schwarzwild
he and Hannelore had seen at the Berlin Zoo: they were striped like vegetable marrows.
He described the bat that was pretending to be a butterfly, how its wings were messy as if it had fallen into some muck.
He described the bottomprint made by some woman who had inked her naked bottom, then sat down onwhite paper and rocked back and forth a little to leave an impression of her buttocks and vulva.
He described what at first appeared to be the lower jaw of a shark which then became the heads and shoulders of two women with topknots, facing each other in profile.
He described some kind of angel seen from below, bearing aloft two animals, one at the tip of each wing. This one, with its delicate pinks and greys and greens, had a transcendental feeling, as it might be the higher nature lifting up the lower nature and becoming ever more distant as it rose.
He described two young
Klein drew the olive tree, smelling as he did so thewarm summer wind and hearing the distant braying of a donkey.
‘Do you draw?’ said Mrs Lichtheim. ‘You have an artistic touch.’
‘I went to art school but I haven’t done any drawing for a very long time.’
‘What can you tell me about this tree?’
‘It’s an olive tree I saw on the island of Paxos the last time my wife – she’s dead now – and I had a holiday there. Olive trees flash silver in the sun when the wind stirs the leaves. They look as if they’re personally acquainted with gods and goddesses. This tree is very old but it still bears fruit. There’s a hole in the trunk and it looks as if the naked Persephone might just have stepped out of that darkness into the green-lit shade of the olive grove. Naked Persephone in the green-lit shade.’
‘When did your wife die?’
‘In 1977.’ Klein was looking at the olive tree in his mind, listening to the wind in the leaves, feeling the Ionian sunlight on his face. ‘Hannelore,’ he said.
‘That was your wife’s name?’
‘Yes.’ He put both hands over his mouth and whispered, ‘She killed herself.’
Mrs Lichtheim allowed a little pause to happen, then she said, ‘If you feel ready we can now do the Rorschach Test.’
‘Yes,’ said Klein. ‘Let’s do it.’
‘I am going to show you ten cards with inkblots. The original blots were made by dropping inks on pieces of paper and then folding the paper in half. There are ten standardised inkblots that have been in use since the Rorshach was introduced in the forties. When I show these to you I’d like you to tell me whatever you can see on the card.’
The first inkblot looked to Klein like a motorcycle seen endwise from the rear. There was no one in the saddle but there was a person on each side with both feet on one of the footrests, one hand gripping a handlebar and the other flung out behind. Both of these people were in silhouette and wore loose black garments that fluttered in the wind.
‘Anything else?’ said Mrs Lichtheim.
‘Only that the motorcycle would have to be going fast enough not to lose its balance and fall over.’
Mrs Lichtheim wrote down his description and in this manner, very slowly, Klein made his way through the Rorshach blots. He described the two jolly fellows wearing conical red hats who, undeterred by being legless and footless, were congratulating each other with a high-five handslap. They might be genies, he thought, just out of a bottle and still trailing smoke.
He described the two black dancers, a man and a woman, evidently romantically involved because of the two red hearts hanging point to point in the air between them. Although the idea of dancing was reinforced by musical emanations from their heads they seemed at the same time to be picking up their luggage or perhaps their shopping.
He described the full-frontal head of a wild boar, pointing out the tusks, the snout, the eyes and ears.
Schwarzwild
was the German name for this animal, and he told Mrs Lichtheim about infant
Schwarzwild
he and Hannelore had seen at the Berlin Zoo: they were striped like vegetable marrows.
He described the bat that was pretending to be a butterfly, how its wings were messy as if it had fallen into some muck.
He described the bottomprint made by some woman who had inked her naked bottom, then sat down onwhite paper and rocked back and forth a little to leave an impression of her buttocks and vulva.
He described what at first appeared to be the lower jaw of a shark which then became the heads and shoulders of two women with topknots, facing each other in profile.
He described some kind of angel seen from below, bearing aloft two animals, one at the tip of each wing. This one, with its delicate pinks and greys and greens, had a transcendental feeling, as it might be the higher nature lifting up the lower nature and becoming ever more distant as it rose.
He described two young