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.Fall LoveAnne WhitehousePublished: 2008Tag(s): fiction amor "absurd comedy" literature "literary fiction" roman love "romantic triangle" "art and artists" "art/teaching artists in love" "gay novel" "bisexual novel"CopyrightCopyright 2001 by Anne Whitehouse.Library of Congress Number 00-192772ISBN # Hardcover 0-7388-4826-3Softcover 0-7388-4827-1All rights reserved.From “Easter 1916.” Reprinted with permission of Scribner, a Division of Simon and Schuster from The Collected Poems of W.B.Yeats.Revised Second Edition edited by Richard J.Finneran.Copyright ©1924 by Macmillan Publishing Company, renewed 1952 by Bertha Georgie Yeats.For the description of the Aeolian harp in Chapter Twenty-one, the author gratefully acknowledges permission to quote from The New Grove Dictionary of Music and Musicians, edited by Stanley Sadie, copyright Macmillan Publishers Ltd., 1980.This is a work of fiction.Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.DedicationFor Stephen Whitehouse, who endured itand in memory of the Worthens –Mark, who encouraged itand, especially,Eleanor, who transformed itEpigraphIt is hard to withstand the heart’s desire, and it gets what it wants at the psyche’s expense.—Herakleitos, 51AcknowledgmentsMark and Eleanor Worthen, in whose memory this book is dedicated, sustained me through years of writing and rewriting with their love, wisdom, and encouragement.They were my great collaborators.I am most deeply indebted to Eleanor, without whom Fall Love would not exist.I cannot imagine a more generous, diligent, and devoted reader or a more painstaking and accurate editor.I am grateful for her graceful phrasing, infallible ear, precise memory, and logical mind.In this endeavor, as in so many others, Mark was Eleanor’s true partner.I credit his empathy, insight, and balanced judgment.I thank my husband Stephen Whitehouse, to whom this book is also dedicated, for his support, love, and companionship which helped me stay the course from beginning to end.He is my true partner.Of other individuals and institutions who offered inspiration and help for Fall Love, I single out for credit:Ellen Sirot, for her insight into and knowledge of dance, dances, dancers, and dance companies; and for her sensitivity and perspicacity as a reader;Stuart Caplin of The Center for Musical Antiquities who showed me an Aeolian harp and told me its story;Dr.Jonathan Deland and Dr.Peter McCann, who told me about Lisfranc fractures;Staff of the Metropolitan Museum of Art, the Joyce Theater, and Auer Van and Express Company, Inc.for expertise and assistance;Hugh and Martha Whitehouse, for Sanibel Island;The MacDowell Colony, where parts of two chapters were written.For those of you who helped me and who remain nameless in these pages, a heart-felt thank you.About the author: Anne Whitehouse was born and grew up in Birmingham, Alabama.She received degrees from Harvard College and Columbia University.She is the author of The Surveyor's Hand, a collection of poems.She lives in New York City with her husband and daughter.www.annewhitehouse.comChapter 1On vacation on an island in the summer sea, Althea lived the life she aspired to: she devoted herself to painting.All year long in New York City she had scrimped and saved to give herself three weeks of solitary inspiration on Block Island.Renting a house sight unseen over the phone, she had come with empty canvases, paints, brushes, palette knives, and hope; and what she found exceeded her fondest imaginings: Althea believed herself to be in Paradise.Happiness suffused her like light.She, who considered herself a connoisseur of sights, had fallen in love at once with her island retreat.Low and modest, blue and gray, the house sat on a sloping hillside overlooking fields of bayberries and the sea.She marvelled at how it suited her, as if it had been made for her.She wondered about the owner.She guessed he had built the house himself, because it was simple, yet with charming, individual touches.She saw signs of his taste and evidence of his handiwork in the odd angles of his rooms, the iron latches that fastened the windows and closed the closets, in the sunny windbreak behind the house which made a perfect breakfast nook, and on the deck outside the bedroom's double door that looked out to the sea.From the real estate agent she had learned that he was elderly and of foreign birth.Eating from his plates, eyes lifted to a view, she speculated as to whether need of money or ill health caused him to rent his retreat.She blessed her good fortune.It was almost as if the house had found her, rather than the other way around.The August days passed, long, languorous, and utterly free.Watching a spider's web in sunlight, Althea imagined that she was like that, alternately shining and hidden, waiting in speculation.What would stumble in? Every day at dusk she stripped for the sea and ran over sand and flat stones into water as smooth as pale isinglass.Thigh-deep she paused, shivering.Then she surface-dived, and the cool water covered her head.She fluttered to the sea floor like a wind and played her fingers over the soft ridges the waves had made.She began her paintings, a suite of four which she worked on in succession.They were scenes abstracted from nature: a forest, a meadow, a pond, the sea.So much she knew, the rest she set out to discover.The mud was rinsed from her colors.Each stroke had its place: a center and an edge that met the others.On the flat canvas, she wanted to suggest an inexhaustible depth."See what drew you in," she told herself as both an admonishment and a rapture, as a jolt to the memory of what had made her turn so long ago to art.Part by painstaking part, her paintings grew.Very quickly, she poured her mind in a thin layer over the surface and instantly sucked it back, a flash of consideration to balance the obsessive priorities of the brush.It was a way of ferreting out a wrong choice against the harmony she invoked, hard and clear as glass though rendered in the compliance of pigment.Althea's sense of how she benefitted from painting differed from the opinions of "the outside world." Still, she flinched when she was faced with questions about her earnings from art, for she was ambitious and proud [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]