Seconds of Pleasure: Stories
by Neil LaBute
Married men
A review by Andrew van der Vlies
In a series of plays, screenplays and films (including In the Company of Men,
Your Friends & Neighbors, The Shape of Things, and The Mercy
Seat), Neil LaBute has established himself as a chronicler of the violence
and cruelty lurking beneath the surface of American lives. Confession has often
been his favoured vehicle, although his is a light touch: introducing the screenplay
of In the Company of Men, he explains his preference for "long takes",
"just sitting back and watching, almost voyeuristically, what's going on
between the characters". Content to let his unsettlingly recognizable men
and women (but mostly men) reveal more than they intend, LaBute aspires, too,
like his favourite Restoration dramatists, to criticize his audience as he entertains:
his note to Your Friends & Neighbors (in which one character directs
Wycherley's play The Country Wife) concludes that "One must be cruel
to be kind".
Each of the twenty short stories in Seconds of Pleasure, LaBute's prose
fiction debut, revisits the discomforting territory of his dramatic work, and
its formal concern to show, rather than tell. Some are highly confessional first-person
narratives, others free indirect ramblings. The collection's fallible, damaged
and largely nameless cast of characters are observed in moments of extreme tension
or disillusionment, frustration and betrayal, constantly in search of those
elusive points of empathetic or ecstatic connection named in the collection's
title (which is also that of a song by its dedicatee, Elvis Costello).
As in his plays, it is the proximity of desire, disgust and violence in the
male sexual psyche which is LaBute's primary interest. Seconds of Pleasure
describes a wide range of men, particularly married men, behaving badly. In
one story, a middle-aged man lusts after teenage girls ("Boo-Boo").
In "Perfect", which self-consciously echoes Nathaniel Hawthorne's
story "The Birthmark", a younger man is disgusted by a small blemish
on his wife's shoulder, and dreams of gouging it out. Women are most often merely
the objects of cruelty or infidelity, or its calculated victims, like the prostitute
who stars in one narrator's first snuff movie ("Ravishing"). But the
women are no better than the men: one seduces her ex-step-father, hoping in
vain for a glimmer of recognition from him ("Maraschino"); another
remembers lying to protect her father from punishment for a terrible crime ("Opportunity").
Two stories feature that most American, most masculine symbol of freedom and
power, the automobile. In "Open All Night", a flat battery in his
new Saab convertible strands a married man at a strip club, but an off-duty
dancer helps him push his car to a nearby garage, and gives him a lift home.
The story is a gem of frustrated expectation and unexpected intimacy. In "Full
Service", a faintly obsessive and neurotic man becomes fixated by a female
motor mechanic. The contiguity of the stories fleetingly suggests an artfulness
in the organization of the volume as a whole, juxtaposing both pathos and psychosis
in masculine identities in crisis. Like all the stories, they suggest the fine
line between lying to oneself and betraying one's partner, the slippery slope
between the careless and the malicious.
In "A Second of Pleasure", which comes closest to being the collection's
title story in name and theme, the memory of an unexpected moment of affection
prompts a woman to end an extramarital relationship. Entirely composed of dialogue,
the story demands close attention from the reader to determine, at times, who
is speaking. LaBute has a playwright's ear for dialogue, and his director's
eye for the telling gesture is often conveyed in the briefest narrative observation.
But the story also demonstrates the potential pitfalls of rendering the cadences
of everyday speech, as the conversations of couples close to breakup or breakdown
frequently threaten to become merely a collection of mundane exclamations. "Some
Do It Naturally" reveals a further problem. While clearly a homage to Hemingway's
"Hills Like White Elephants", the conversation about an unplanned
pregnancy here leaves nothing to the imagination. LaBute turns the situation
into an episode, with an eavesdropping narrator, an older man for whom the lovers'
predicament echoes tensions in his own relationship. But the narrator's commentary,
an increasingly vitriolic interior monologue, sits awkwardly with the reported
speech of the couple contemplating an abortion. In this case, LaBute does dialogue
best, but is more interested in the narrator's pathologies.
Neil LaBute's repertoire of quasi-filmic techniques has some unexpected pleasures.
In "Opportunity", for example, the reader watches a car coming out
of the fog, overhearing the woman passenger's monologue only so long as the
car is, as it were, in view. In his best stories, restrained third-person narration
and nuanced dialogue, unexpected moments of intimacy, and suggestions of narrowly
averted violence recall the work of Raymond Carver. But Seconds of Pleasure
is an uneven collection, and some of the shortest stories read like sketches
for screen treatment. Among these are four first person narratives, two describing
inconsequential or idealized sexual encounters ("Grand Slam", "Wait"),
another two the narrators' observation of women at parties ("Look at Her",
"Los Feliz"). Other stories have unexpected twists. In "Spring
Break", assumptions about who is the younger and who the much older partner
are undermined in the final pages. In "Time Share", the reader's assumptions
about the gender of the parties caught in a compromising pose are cleverly undermined.
The twists make these one-trick shows, however, and overshadow the fact that
both would otherwise have had more than enough to recommend them, making a second
reading far less satisfactory, and, sadly, unlikely.
Andrew van der
Vlies recently completed a doctorate at the University of Oxford on the publication
and reception histories of South African literatures in Britain
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