A Day For Waving

It took John Milton thousands of verses of iambic pentameter and hundreds of pages, a work of monumental proportions, to justify the ways of God to man. Brian Turner ’s “A Day For Waving” takes upon itself almost the same task, and he needs fewer than one hundred and thirty pages to do the job (if in fact the job can be done). “A Day For Waving” is a little book, a novella, filled to overflowing with big themes, big ideas, yet it never gives the reader the sense that it is overwhelmed by its load.

As a form the novella has never been shy of taking on large ideas and issues. Think of Melville’s “Billy Budd” and “Benito Cereno” Think of Conrad’s “Heart of Darkness” and “The Secret Sharer.” The problem for the writer of the novella is not whether his form is big enough to deal with his themes, the problem is making sure that he meets those themes head on. The form gives no room for discursive rambling. The writer must exercise tremendous restraint. He cannot let his material run wild. The small canvas demands control. There is a road to follow, and there is not space to explore the byways. Like the short story, the novella is at its best when the artist bends every word, every image, every incident to this vision. At its best it is a well tuned machine, every part essential to the whole. If “A Day For Waving” doesn't quite manage this completely, it tries very hard, and in a world where perfection is often sought but rarely achieved, it is perhaps a bit much to ask for more.

Besides, as Lucinda Abel, Lucy, the central figure of Turner’s novella points out on more than one occasion: “The simple law of life is that perfection cannot be attained.” And from this axiom, she deduces a kind of Aristotelian vision for man and his work. “Everything naturally inclines towards the mean, half way between the absolute of Heaven and the absolute of Hell. It is only in the position of mediocrity between the two extremes that peace and happiness can be found. For that is the state where life is in balance.” One might wonder at the choice of a word like mediocrity to describe the state of peace and happiness, but certainly the idea of the golden mean is not unfamiliar.

More over, even were perfection attainable, would it be desirable? Again, Lucinda opts for a fairly conventional argument. “Imagine,” she opines, “if everything were perfect there’d be nothing to do and we’d all get terribly bored. Try to think of Heaven where all was absolutely pure alabaster and marble. Once you learned to play the harp and sing in the choir that would be the end of it. You’d be so bored you might want to go down to the other place for a little variety. Fact is you are never so happy as when you’re striving to overcome obstacles, so what’s the point of a place where everything has been achieved and there is nothing more to be done? I’m sure that an eternity of pure happiness would drive anyone around the twist.”

What is true for man in general may be true for the artist in particular. The important thing is to seek perfection, not necessarily to reach it. In fact reaching it may well be a self defeating act. One remembers Robert Browning”s faultless painter, Andrea Del Sarto . His work is never flawed because he never strives to go beyond what is capable of doing. He is willing to settle for what he can do easily and safely. His reach never exceeds his grasp. There is a point then to Heaven, to perfection. It is that which is to be strived for, a kind of Holy Grail that can never be found , but it would be shameful not to seek ( to borrow an image from another Victorian poet).

So if, as one reads “A Day For Waving,” one wonders about characters who seem little more than names: Fred Robottom, President of the Rationalist Society, Milton and Willy, two members of Lucy”s string quartet, Olive Bush of the Horticultural Society, Lucy”s son-in-law Charles. One recognizes that though they may serve little purpose in this narrative, they are nevertheless the kind of background characters that would inevitably fill out such a life. In a larger work they would be welcome, indeed there would be the time and space to round them out a bit. One wonders if at some point they were not intended to fill out a larger canvas, and when that canvas shrunk, they remained, vestigial characters with little to justify their presence. It is not that they have to role. They would be fine in “War and Peace;” they really don’t belong in “The Kreutzer Sonata.”

“A Day For Waving” is the story of Lucy's last day, as she lies dying in a hospital bed. Fortified by her hidden stash of brandy snaps and marijuana cookies, she looks back over her life, her childhood, her marriage, her children. The waving of the title is the waving of goodbye. It is the period that marks the end of one sentence, and the capital letter that marks the beginning of the new. It is a symbolic act signifying the end of one phase and the beginning of another. At the end of the book, as Lucy announces that she is coming to whoever awaits her after death, she says of what has passed: “This old life, it”s been so funny and sad, a world of light and shadow. In the end all our petty affairs dissolve into dust. Nothing is ever perfect. Nothing is ever finished. But I’m not going to argue any more, I”ll just wave goodbye to it all.” Waving is a metaphor for coming to terms with the past, for putting it behind you, and making ready for the future whatever that may be. As she tells her daughter Anne about her feelings of past hurts: “It's best to wave goodbye to all that.” A day for waving is a day for taking stock and saying goodbye to all that was.

Her life, she tells us, is centered on four things: family first, religion second, then music and lastly flowers. These are the themes that run through her memory like motifs, sometimes one is dominant, sometimes another, more often than not they are inextricably entwined. These are the themes that hold her narrative together as she takes the reader back to the key events in her life and the people associated with them.

Her father was a somewhat freethinking clergyman. His impromptu sermons often scandalizing the more conservative member of his congregation. She, on the other hand, remembers his sermon on the “ugly Jesus” as a seminal event in her growth. First of all it’s thesis that the scripture’s statements about Jesus’ appearance need not be taken literally and that the inner beauty of Jesus is more important than any outward appearance are what began to plant the seeds of doubt that eventually affected her own faith. Secondly it is her innocent sympathy for the “ugly Jesus” that she credits for her newly discovered musical talent.

Her mother was a musician of some skill but found little place for art after her marriage. She turns into a melancholic woman obsessed with the decay of beauty. She loves flowers, but in their browning leaves all she sees is an emblem of life’s transience. Searching for perfection in a world where perfection is not possible she is driven to madness. Her brother is the black sheep of the family. From the time he is a youngster he is constantly getting into trouble, and as an adult his swindling schemes land him in prison. Ironically it is in prison that he eventually finds his true calling, if not necessarily, by Lucy”s lights, for the best reasons.

There are dramatic confrontations. She and her brother clash over the question of a pre-frontal lobotomy for her mother. There are moments of comedy. Her mother insistently calls the visiting Bishop Slender, Bishop Slim. There are ordinary moments, every day memories, Suday roasts and Yorkshire duff. There are special moments, a father uncertain how to open a celebratory bottle of champagne. There are frogs in the baptismal font. There are dragon flies hovering over a stagnant pool. There are roses planted in memory of loved ones. Lucy’s life, like all lives, is filled with memories, memories large and small.

Through it all the overriding concern of her life is the problem of evil. In a world created by a benevolent God, where does evil come from. Why is it permitted? In many respects, it is this problem that drives her mother mad. “Wars and weapons and murder and torture. Why,? her mother asks, “are such things in the world” Why does God let such things happen? Why does He allow the devil to exist? “How does a benevolent God allow good people like her parents to produce a lying swindler for a son? Why does a loving God inflict madness on a loving mother? Why does he allow a Hitler?

These are not new questions. They have been asked before, and they will be asked again. There are answers, some better than others, some worse. Remember Milton wrote his epic as an answer, but the questions are still there. “A Day For Waving” asks the questions, I don’t know that it really gives an answer. Early on in the book, Lucy rejects at least the trappings of religion and becomes a Rationalist. At the end of the book she concludes: “No, the Christian religion is not the centre of this story nor are my beliefs. It is the people in my life that are important, and how I got on with those that I loved. It’s what I did and how I did it that counts. It doesn’t matter what we believe, or what we have done, we all have to face this moment in time, this discarding of the carnate flesh. All we can hope is that we have not exactly wasted our time here on earth. That things might perhaps be a little better for our having been here. I cannot ask for any reward other than my own happiness.”

Evil is in the world, that is fact. In some sense the questions of how it got there, of why it got there are irrelevant. It is there and it is man’s job of work to live the best life that he can in spite of the fact. “A Day For Waving” is the story of one woman’s struggle to do just that.

About the Reviewer: Jack Goodstein is a professor emeritus at California University of Pennsylvania , where he has taught English for more than thirty years. His work has appeared in scholarly journals such as Critique, Theatre Journal and College English and in literary magazines such as The Maine Review, The Small Pond Magazine of Literature and The Jewish Digest. In 1990 at age 51, he tried his hand at acting, and while he has always loved the theatre from the audience, discovered an unexpected addiction to the stage as a performer. Since then he has appeared in more than sixty plays throughout Pittsburgh and Southwestern Pennsylvania . He has also done film and commercial work. This ultimately led to his attempts at writing for the stage. His one act, Pinochle was given a staged reading at the ATHE conference in Toronto in July of 1999 and was published by the University of Charleston Press . In April 2000, his one act, Poker, was produced by the Pulse Ensemble Theatre in Manhattan as part of their OPAL series. Bride of the Father(2000) and Creative Daydreaming (2001) were produced by the Gallery Players of Park Slope in Brooklyn . Other one acts have had readings or been staged at Far Off Broadway and Northern LightsTheatre in Canada , and New York University and the Cafe Sha Sha in New York . Another of his pieces is on line at http://www.dhj5.homestead.com/Issue5pg19.html

In his book, 'A Day for Waving,' Brian E Turner writes a philosophical story about human beliefs as seen through a dying woman. He builds his story around the premise: "It's not what you believe: It's what you are that counts." This book, listed as fiction, has layers within layers to help the reader discover a new path for himself. Brian's style is friendly and chatty, without lecturing, but filled with important incidents for the more provocative reader to question.

The story unfolds through his main character Lucinda, a grandmother, sitting up in a chair in a hospital with only a few hours to live. Because she is determined to die in the daylight, not the darkness, she keeps her mind active throughout the night by reflecting on her past life. She recalls incidents, some humorous, some sad and difficult with her family and friends. She remembers the changes in her own beliefs and the effects that the beliefs of others had on her. She reaches the conclusion that what really matters is what you are, the thoughts you allow to motivate your life. Are they positive, making others happy or are they negative, causing pain?

She states just before she dies: "No, the Christian religion is not the center of this story nor are my beliefs. It is the people in my life that are important, and how I got on with those that I loved. It's what I did and how I did it that counts. It doesn't matter what we believe, or what we have done, we all have to face this moment in time, this discarding of the flesh. All we can hope is that we have not exactly wasted our time here on earth. That things might perhaps be a little better for our having been here. I cannot ask for any reward other than my own happiness."

She decides that if you don't know how to be positive and follow the *golden rule*; then, it won't matter what name you give your creator or which building you use for worship. It's *how* you respond: to people, your creator and the daily problems.

This is a book written from the author's heart. Brian's words reach into your soul and make you think about the meaning of life and existence. Brian achieves his purpose in an almost light-hearted way without preaching. The title, in itself, sets the tone; but, the subject matter is deep and philosophical in nature.

You will take away a message geared to your experiences and ability to think. Some will see it as a book about family memories while others will see themselves in a new light as they uncover the many layers of human existence. They will discover that love in its purest form should be the essence of our existence. For it is love that really counts.

'A Day for Waving' by Brian E Turner is a book that you will want to share with friends and family.

Just finished "A Day for Waving". A fine piece of writing. It 's characters all struggling with conventional (Christian) ideas. Even the rationalist, agnostic and atheist are caught up in debating points of Christian dogma. Mathew seemed to be the most free of them all. The idea that the meaning of life might have no element of the personal in it does not seem to occur to anyone, yet that idea is woven into the fabric of Lucy's observations. Particularly in her preoccupation with flowers. Eternal recurrence takes all the pathos out of life (probably why it is not a widespread doctrine). I must admit that the question at the end, for me, was : Is there a reason why, as we age, our long term memory emerges triumphant and our short term memory becomes less reliable? I am not talking about the mechanism for the process. I am saying that the intelligence that flows through us is like all the qualities we see in what science calls natural selection in animals. Every process we experience is part of the whole and is utilised in some way. Some say the purpose is in the experience, but that accepts an entirely subjective purpose. If our identification is not limited by the body and senses, then the personal is just one vehicle.