This is a glorious portrait of an alcoholic. It is of a truth! (as the special type says in 'The Special Type') How many have I known and loved! In the end, even if you've been married to them for years, they somehow don't recognize you because all you are is either the bearer of or the barrier between, the next dose. And the story -- often well-told -- is always about them. Nobody else exists! How fortunate you were not to know this creature any better. In just that fact lies something of the charm and the value of this story. The degree of the relationship is exactly right for the purposes of narration.
It won't bite! I used to adore the novels in my 20s but I grew too old for them. What I continue to love is many of the short stories, from the middle right up to the late period. Will be interesting to know how it strikes you.
What a story! And what a boat! The Tornado is a family favorite (but only my Uncle Steven is skilled enough to race). You must certainly be highly knowledgeable and practiced to have successfully navigated that situation. Here’s to fair winds & following seas 🥂
What a great story, I’m getting flashbacks. I think the sailing team at UC Irvine was given a Tornado, but the boat I really remember resembled it, in monohull design; it was an Aussie 18, way overpowered, with sails like a 30-footer. The race team decided to test its acceleration by pulling a water skier off the beach with it, inside Newport Beach Harbor. Which actually worked & they had quite a wake going until the harbor patrol showed up and indicated an interest in their disregard of the no-wake rule. They tacked before dropping the skier, which resulted in shearing the stern lantern off the patrol boat. Not a good ending. They had better luck on Lake Mead, and more room to move, later on.
The mast was so tall that when we got it rigged, they had to hold it upright at the dock, hop in, run the sails up and go. Else it would fall over from the imbalance.
This is a wonderful story, so well written. I felt like I was in danger of drowning at any minute reading it. It reminds me of a Thomas Mann story. I can see Hans as a member of the Buddenbrooks family, so sure of himself in his own little alcohol tinged world.
This is a glorious portrait of an alcoholic. It is of a truth! (as the special type says in 'The Special Type') How many have I known and loved! In the end, even if you've been married to them for years, they somehow don't recognize you because all you are is either the bearer of or the barrier between, the next dose. And the story -- often well-told -- is always about them. Nobody else exists! How fortunate you were not to know this creature any better. In just that fact lies something of the charm and the value of this story. The degree of the relationship is exactly right for the purposes of narration.
I had not seen I that way (I have very little experience of drunks) but you are right.
Looked up The Special Type (unknown to me). Henry James? Usually cannot bear that leaden Anglophile, but will try...
It won't bite! I used to adore the novels in my 20s but I grew too old for them. What I continue to love is many of the short stories, from the middle right up to the late period. Will be interesting to know how it strikes you.
Luca, these stories need a book!! Beautiful.
Thank you. Maybe one day when there’s enough of them I’ll staple them together and call it a memoir!
Please do!
What a story! And what a boat! The Tornado is a family favorite (but only my Uncle Steven is skilled enough to race). You must certainly be highly knowledgeable and practiced to have successfully navigated that situation. Here’s to fair winds & following seas 🥂
Thank you. I think I just got lucky that day 😨
The luck of the innocent.
Hans certainly was one in his way.
Then we all got lucky.
What a great story, I’m getting flashbacks. I think the sailing team at UC Irvine was given a Tornado, but the boat I really remember resembled it, in monohull design; it was an Aussie 18, way overpowered, with sails like a 30-footer. The race team decided to test its acceleration by pulling a water skier off the beach with it, inside Newport Beach Harbor. Which actually worked & they had quite a wake going until the harbor patrol showed up and indicated an interest in their disregard of the no-wake rule. They tacked before dropping the skier, which resulted in shearing the stern lantern off the patrol boat. Not a good ending. They had better luck on Lake Mead, and more room to move, later on.
I looked up the Aussie 18, a truly scary beast that makes the Tornado look tame!
The mast was so tall that when we got it rigged, they had to hold it upright at the dock, hop in, run the sails up and go. Else it would fall over from the imbalance.
Wild!
Great story, brilliantly told. I wonder how he explained the blood stains when he sold the cat.
À fantastic story. Kudos to your Dad (RIP) who taught his son well.
This is a wonderful story, so well written. I felt like I was in danger of drowning at any minute reading it. It reminds me of a Thomas Mann story. I can see Hans as a member of the Buddenbrooks family, so sure of himself in his own little alcohol tinged world.