Three general beliefs I've been led to by the work of Donald Barthelme are as follows:
1. Some (if not all) stories should unsettle readers.
2. There is meaning in absurdity.
3. It is necessary at every moment of our lives, or as often as we can bear it, to consider form.
Here are a few socio-historical musings to help you contextualize the work of this important writer.
Donald Barthelme, who was drafted into the Army to serve in Korea in 1953, became director of the Contemporary Arts Museum in Houston in 1961. He published his first short story that same year. He was thirty years old.
Only three years later, he published his first story collection,
Welcome Back, Dr. Caligari (Little, Brown, 1964).
It included many stories published in
The New Yorker, including "
Me and Miss Mandible." Barthelme went on to publish over one hundred stories and four novels before he died at the age of forty-nine. If alive today, he'd be eighty-two, the same age as Michail Gorbachev, Toni Morrison, Alice Munro, Dan Rather, and William Shatner.
On to the stories anthologized in
3x33.
"Robert Kennedy Saved from Drowning" appeared in print in 1968 in Barthelme's second collection,
Unspeakable Practices, Unnatural Acts (New York: FSG), just two months before RFK's assassination. RFK, the younger brother of JFK, was a Democratic senator, a civil rights activist, a candidate for President of the U.S., and forty-three years old when he died. Could you imagine yourself writing such a piece about a young, contemporary politician? Can you find yourself in a famous person? Can you save a famous person, or yourself?
"A City of Churches" appeared first in
The New Yorker in 1972 and then in the collection
Sadness (New York: FSG, 1972). Barthelme's family was devoutly Roman Catholic. Go read about
Saint Cecilia, as well as the origin/meaning of the name
Cecelia. When this story came out, I was one month old, born into a real estate agent's world of "Be nice" and "There is nothing you can do," and Cecelia's thrilling response, "Wait and see." It gives one a new way to imagine oneself, willing dreams in a town where no one will rent any cars.
"The School" was first published in
Amateurs in 1976 (New York: FSG). Barthelme's father was a professor of architecture at the University of Houston. Although Barthelme studied journalism and philosophy at the University of Houston, he never earned a degree. Over his life, he would teach for brief periods at Boston University, SUNY-Buffalo, and City College of New York, and he helped found the
prestigious writing program at the University of Houston. I like to think about who learns what in school, or in "The School."