This Feb. 28, 2009 narrative profile in the Los Angeles Times by Thomas Curwen has many remarkable qualities. Those of you serious about reporting and writing profiles will read it and study it. You may not be able to access the story now because it has been archived and you need to register for LAT, subscribe or pay for the story. Or you probably can access it through a Mizzou database.
In the meantime, you can read the top here:
HEADLINE:
Waiting for death, alone and unafraid
Edwin Shneidman knows what the end will be: You're driving down a road in the desert, and the engine suddenly stops.
By Thomas Curwen
February 28, 2009
The silence of night never lasts long. It ends somewhere in the 5 o'clock hour with the purring of the heater and distant strains of Sam Cooke.
Edwin Shneidman looks at the clock -- an hour and a half since turning off the TV and closing his eyes.
"Mrs. Wiggles," he shouts. He knows that that's not her name, but he likes the joke.
Sitting in another room, Pauline Dupuy turns down the CD player and puts her Bible and crossword aside. She stands and walks down the hall into his room.
"My knee hurts."
"Would you like a pain pill?"
"Yes."
"Tramadol or Vicodin?"
"I don't care."
He lies on the side of the bed, sleepy, unshaven, his hair mussed. He never asked to live to be 90, to see the breadth of his life diminished, the allure of the world fallen further out of reach. He is ready to die.
All his life he has studied this moment -- from those who killed themselves and those who tried, from philosophers and colleagues, students and intimates -- and its lessons hold no real surprise.
Today will be the same as yesterday, the same as tomorrow, every day a waiting and a hoping for a good death, a death without suffering.
He lives alone but for the company of caregivers in the house that he and his wife bought more than 50 years ago, alone to consider the meaning of his life and the niche he has secured for himself in the memory of the world.
"Good morning."
He looks up. Vernette Elijio greets him with a smile and rubs the top of his head. It's 7 a.m., the changing of the guard. She will be with him for the next 12 hours. Dressed in a long white sleep shirt, he looks like a character from Dickens. She helps him on with his plaid robe, and he shuffles to the chair at the side of the bed.
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4 comments:
I have mixed feelings about this piece. I absolutely love how he describes death as driving down the road, but the engine stops. The road continues, but you're done. It's simple and eloquent and undramatic. Probably, one of the best lines I've read in journalism in a long time.
But, I worry about some of the art metaphors. I don't know if everyone would be able to understand. It doesn't matter how well-written something is if most people don't understand it.
I also thought the last line should be the one where teenagers move outside, nannies, etc. I wanted the whole piece to expand around the death and driving metaphor. I wanted to see the road continue as he sat inside.
The ending now goes on after the emotional value has already been determined. Does anyone else feel like that?
I like how you are reading this closely. Maybe if enough students read the article we can talk about it more here. Or in class.
BH
First up that link gave me trouble, if anyone else needs to see the whole story try this or just search the author's name at the Times and it comes up pretty easily.
http://www.latimes.com/news/la-me-dying28-2009feb28,0,1937087.story?page=1
Secondly, one of my favorite things about that story was the commentary on death that Curwen offers in the latter third of the story starting with "In death, things become mere things..." and ending in the description of the Breughel and Chagall prints. Curwen does a very good job framing the story in the "show, don't tell" lead that he revisits for his ending. It was an exceedingly well written profile that explored not only the man but the subject matter of death.
It kind of leaves me uncertain as to how to feel about the entire thing especially when I read about the subject actually wanting to die or even contemplating take his own life (though I think it was right to include it in the story.) Perhaps this conflict is why the profile is so successful. Death is uncertain, frightening, sad, inevitable and complex, and Curwen stirs up the pot for the reader just enough to get them to think about it but doesn't try to leave his own overt message (positive or negative) as a rationale to accompany the story. He simply forces the reader to confront the nature of death and allows them to take what they will from that.
P.S. this is Ricky, don't ask me about the email
I agree with Ryan, I really like the car engine stopping on an empty desert road metaphor. It was simple yet powerful. However, I disagree about extending it throughout the whole story. I think if the whole profile were based around it I would lose interest eventually. It would seem like a gimmick.
What I liked about the story was Curwen’s ability to show vulnerability. Sometimes it’s hard to get someone to talk about his or her more vulnerable moments. Even if you can get someone to, it can be hard to write about it. The part about his caregiver forging checks, him thinking about buying a gun, his wife’s death and when he cried at the hospital because he knew the doctors would save him all helped paint a picture. Although I think I would have gotten rid of the line “There is the vulnerability, as well,” which precedes all the events I mentioned. People will see the vulnerability in the story; it doesn’t have to be announced.
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