The New York Review of Books (2022-01-13)

(EriveltonMoraes) #1
30 The New York Review

Florence Nightingale that Raymie has
lost under the bed of a nursing home
patient. They can’t reclaim their miss-
ing parents, but their shared pursuit of
these substitute objects bonds the girls
into a new kind of family.
This alternative family begins to
form at the baton-twirling class. When
Raymie hears Louisiana apologizing to
her absent cat—“Archie, I’m sorry! I’m
sorry I betrayed you!”—she quietly re-
peats the apology to herself: “‘I’m sorry,’
Raymie whispered. ‘I betrayed you.’ For
some reason, the words seemed worth
repeating.” Raymie collects phrases like
these, often shuffling their elements as
though they are parts of a rebus. Within
her experience of abandonment, she has
an unusually strong version of a power
specific to childhood: that of making
something valuable out of not much at
all. For a moment, Louisiana’s repur-
posed words help Raymie imagine how
her father could have left, and what he
might have said in a good-bye.
Raymie has an elderly neighbor, Mrs.
Borkowski, who sometimes sits in a
lawn chair in the middle of the street.
Raymie’s mother says that Mrs. Bor-
kowski is “crazy as a loon,” but Raymie
likes her company. She brings the Little
Miss Central Florida Tire application
over to Mrs. Borkowski for help filling it
out, at which point the old lady launches
into what sounds like an old wives’ tale.
Once, she saw a giant seabird snatch a
baby from a mother’s arms:

“But the mother got the baby back,
right?”
“From a gigantic seabird?
Never,” said Mrs. Borkowski.
“Those gigantic seabirds, they
keep what they take. Also, they
steal buttons. And hairpins.”

This story could easily be dismissed as
a fiction, or even a delusion. But Ray-
mie listens carefully and accepts the
wisdom in it. It offers her a slantwise
consolation: a family member is stolen,
rather than having left. It also offers a
slantwise truth: the separation is final.
And it gives her the consolation of story-
telling itself, a bright whistling she and
her friends will use repeatedly against
whatever is out there in the dark.
One of Raymie’s strongest memories
of her father is an ambivalent one: it in-
volves a story about a girl named Clara
Wingtip who drowned in the town’s
lake long ago. An aerial photograph of
the lake hangs above her father’s desk
at the insurance company, where she
saw it for the first time at the age of six:

He had put her on his shoulders
so that she was close to the photo-
graph, and Raymie had traced the
shadow of Clara with her fingertip.
For a long time after that, she had
been afraid to go into his office,
afraid that Clara was waiting for her
and that her ghost would pull Ray-
mie into the lake, pull her under the
water and drown her somehow.

Raymie is still haunted by her father’s
tale. In his absence she thinks of the
practical lessons she learned from her
old lifesaving coach, Mr. Staphopou-
los—who, unlike her father, said good-
bye when he moved away from Lister:

Every day in Lifesaving 101, Mr.
Staphopoulos had all the students
stand on the dock and flex their
toes and isolate their objectives.

Mr. Staphopoulos believed that
flexing your toes cleared your
mind and that once your mind was
clear, it was easy to isolate your ob -
jectives and figure out what to do
next. For instance: save whoever
was drowning.

These ideas—about flexing her toes
and isolating her objectives—become
phrases that Raymie repeats to herself
throughout the book. They guide her and
buy her the time she needs to allow other
actions to become imaginable, then
possible. And so when Louisiana nearly
drowns in the lake after the girls rescue
a one-eyed dog named Buddy from the
pound during their hunt for Archie, Ray-
mie tacitly rewrites the ghost story her
father told her: she saves the life of her
friend, and she herself doesn’t drown.

DiCamillo has said that after com-
pleting Raymie Nightingale she kept
hearing the voice of Louisiana Elefante
and “was really surprised by how much
Louisiana wanted to tell her story.” The
first and third books of the trilogy are
narrated in close third person, but in
Louisiana’s Way Home, the title char-
acter, now twelve years old, directly ad-
dresses the page. “In some ways, this is
a story of woe and confusion,” she says,
“but it is also a story of joy and kind-
ness and free peanuts.”
Louisiana has been raised in precari-
ous circumstances by her grandmother,
a crafty old woman in bunny barrettes
whose practical advice is to steal cans
of tuna fish for their high protein con-
tent. Granny has always said that Lou-
isiana’s parents were “famous trapeze
artists known as the Flying Elefantes,”
who drowned in a shipwreck. She has
also impressed upon Louisiana the ne-
cessity of outwitting an unseen figure
named Marsha Jean.
In Raymie Nightingale Louisiana
tells her friends that Marsha Jean
“wants to capture me and put me in
the county home, where they only
ever serve you bologna to eat.” For the
reader, Marsha Jean appears to repre-
sent the risk of Louisiana being taken
from Granny by child welfare services,
or of Granny being put into a mental
institution. She also reads as a stand-in
for the more workaday menaces that
pursue them: electric companies want-
ing their bills paid, law enforcement
objecting to Granny’s and Louisiana’s
petty thefts from convenience stores.
Beverly is sure that Marsha Jean
doesn’t exist, and she is baffled that
Louisiana seems to swallow Granny’s
stories hook, line, and sinker. Raymie is
less certain. When they visit Louisiana
and Granny at the empty house where
they appear to be squatting, Raymie
asks Granny if Marsha Jean is real.
Out of Louisiana’s earshot, Granny re-
sponds that she is “the ghost of what’s
to come”: “It’s good to be on the lookout
for those who might do you harm. I need
Louisiana to be cautious. And wily. I
won’t always be here to protect her.”
For all her slyness, Granny is essen-
tially sympathetic in Raymie Nightin-
gale—a pragmatic eccentric and kindly
deceiver. This is complicated in Lou-
isiana’s Way Home when she wakes
Louisiana at 3 AM and says, “The day
of reckoning has arrived. The hour is
close at hand. We must leave immedi-
ately.” This time they are fleeing not
from Marsha Jean but from a “curse of
sundering”—the result of Louisiana’s

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