| dc.description.abstract | The revelations that explain everything are often details that are missed. This is the theme that emerged during the compiling of this thesis. I wish I could claim it was by intention, but it is merely the reflection of my particular way of seeing the world. I had to spend years writing and working on it, only to arrive here, where I discover this thing about myself that should have been obvious all along. Oh, the irony. In "Fly Away, `Tite Fille," the narrator observes the world from which he came and sees that his father has already endured a spiritual death, which everyone else is too distracted to recognize. In "Passages at the End of a Crescent City Summer," he discovers that the ambitions that led him toward success have also led him away from the vivacious, less controllable kind of Louisiana life that would make him happy, and when he realizes this, he opens himself up to a relationship that is probably a bad idea. In "A Journey to the Interior," the father figure of the first two stories encounters death and transforms himself, but he cannot quite make the journey back to his old life to reap the full benefits. In "A Seldom-Heard Voice from Petit Coteau," the nameless narrator observes the true motivation and influence of her boyfriend's mother, who rejects her in ways that are socially deniable, and the narrator both passes judgment and wishes for a little kindness and acceptance. In "Blood Currents on the Lower Teche," a woman at the center of a tragedy realizes too late that she has completely misunderstood the effects of her actions. In "Lache Pas La Patate," a woman's life has been oppressed and overshadowed by her husband's expansive presence, so, while few understand her, this fact allows her to break free. Finally, in "The Hurricane Squatter," a narrator who lives close to the coast stubbornly refuses to evacuate to higher ground when a hurricane is forecasted. In the process of standing his ground, he realizes that spending a lifetime of doing that has paid off in loneliness and appreciating the best parts of his life only when they are over and it is too late to savor them. I almost hated to summarize the stories in this way, because it feels like giving a secret away. As suggested in the epigram, the stories reveal the kinds of observations that are available to anyone who wishes to mindfully observe the world in which they live and the people who are in it, but for that reason, they are often never noticed at all. The seven stories herein all originate in the same world, Acadiana, which is the regional name of the 22 Cajun and Creole parishes of Southern Louisiana. Acadiana stretches from the Texas border to New Orleans, and it is a sister culture to the Crescent City rather than an extension of it. Most of the stories occur in or around New Iberia, along the famous Bayou Teche, in what is considered the heart of Cajun country. It was a mystical, magical place to grow up, though of course it seemed normal at the time. In writing these stories, I aimed to honor the culture without erasing the emotional realities. Someday, when this collection becomes a part of a book, people may not agree with or even like any portrayal that seems less than flattering to the outside world. But the facts of fiction and of gossip are the same: There are no memorable stories of perfect lives of the rich, beautiful, flawless and blessed. Nobody believes gossip like that. It's boring, and nobody remembers it. And what I hope to spend my writing life doing is making sure that the many facets of Acadiana are remembered. | |
