Back Where We Started
Somehow I’ve found myself back in New York with Ann Beattie (beet’ee), and it’s getting colder out. Ah, the Chilly Scenes of Winter
We’ve been all over the country, from New York and Connecticut to Baltimore, to Georgia and Florida, to New Orleans, Texas, Missouri, New Mexico, Colorado, Oklahoma, California, Idaho, Iowa and back to New York. We’re always traveling in circles, leaving so we can come home again.
In my real world it was 70 degrees out today and yesterday and the day before, but it’s supposed to freeze by Thursday. I’m sure it’s not 70 degrees in New York right now.
It’s hard to think of Charles as anything but chilly, as if he only exists in Beattie’s winter. And because it’s so cold in his world, things move slowly for him. He’s slow to learn, so slow, I’m not sure he ever will. As the title suggests, the novel is written as a series of scenes, all present tense as if it always was and always will be winter.