{"id":149420,"date":"2020-12-02T12:43:26","date_gmt":"2020-12-02T17:43:26","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/?p=149420"},"modified":"2020-12-03T16:12:09","modified_gmt":"2020-12-03T21:12:09","slug":"literary-paper-dolls-cassandra","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/2020\/12\/02\/literary-paper-dolls-cassandra\/","title":{"rendered":"Literary Paper Dolls: Cassandra"},"content":{"rendered":"

Join us this evening, Wednesday, December 2, at 6 P.M.<\/small>\u00a0on Zoom, to meet Jenny Kroik and Julia Berick and draw a paper doll of your own.<\/em><\/a> \"\"<\/a><\/p>\n

It\u2019s a June afternoon in 1963 when Cassandra at the Wedding<\/em> gets on the road in a Riley convertible. The sun is setting on California\u2019s Central Valley. Cassandra Edwards is on her way home to a citrus ranch I imagine to be near Terra Bella where the novel\u2019s author, Dorothy Baker, lived and died shortly after the novel\u2019s completion. Cassandra stops at a bar for a lemon squash, tugs off her driving gloves to use an emergency phone, sluices off dust with an irrigation pipe, and then arrives home in the moth-laced dark. There are glowing lights on the brass wet bar, polished terra-cotta tiles, and herringbone wood ceilings.<\/p>\n

\"\"<\/a>This isn\u2019t actually how the book starts. It begins with Cassandra, alone in her Berkeley apartment, wishing she wasn\u2019t. She considers suicide. She considers the futility of academia: \u201cIt was such busywork, this whole thing of writing a thesis so that I could become a teacher instead of a writer \u2026 I\u2019d really have preferred it the other way around.\u201d She considers her \u201cunsuitable\u201d and unsatisfactory love life. There is the strong suggestion that, while Cassandra feels it\u2019s okay to have flings with other young women at the university, anyone else willing to do so is an inferior sort of person. Cassandra doesn\u2019t want to be part of any club big enough to be a club. She\u2019s got her standards to keep her warm. But, it wasn\u2019t always so lonely for Cassandra. Her twin was always with her. Even apart, they were together. Until they weren\u2019t.<\/p>\n

The twins\u2019 paths diverged when Judith went off to Juilliard in New York to see about music and perhaps about individualism. While her sister was falling apart in Berkeley, Judith fell for, and got engaged to, a nice young man, an almost cardboard young doctor. The sisters reconvene at the family ranch for the first time in nine months for the wedding\u2014or in Cassandra\u2019s case, to prevent the wedding.<\/p>\n

It isn\u2019t something as simple as taste or money that sets people apart for Cassandra. I felt personally familiar with all her slippery superiority, and I\u2019m not alone. The book has something of a cult following. For Cassandra, a damn fine way to see who\u2019s who is to look at their belongings, every one of which is a \u201ctell.\u201d Cassandra has a B\u00f6sendorfer piano. She has a Riley, a beloved make of British racing and touring car, which should tell you everything else you need to know. Deborah Eisenberg, in her illuminating afterword to the NYRB Classics edition, points out that as opposed to all the critique of the American dream in contemporary sixties literature, \u201cthe Edwards\u2019 materialism, in contrast\u2014it isn\u2019t one bit empty\u2014the family derives substantial pleasure from their fresh orange juice, the views from their house \u2026\u201d<\/p>\n

I spend no small part of my life not only thinking about material objects, but attempting to justify my desires. How easy it is to say \u201cin late capitalism\u201d before one says \u201cI think about those shoes six times a day and I fully believe they will complete my life.\u201d I tried no small number of tactics and therapies\u2014grad school among them\u2014before I hit on a truth that about myself and things. It\u2019s a lifelong love affair. This is also a writer\u2019s problem. We\u2019re looking out for character notes, always. We don\u2019t know much about Vera Mercer, Cassandra\u2019s analyst. She has a \u201crather handsome piece of luggage\u2014black canvas bound in tan leather, not particularly large but not exactly overnight either.\u201d Mercer is suddenly vivid. She travels alone. Her confidence and tendency to slightly overcommit are her calling cards. A superior person, for Cassandra and for me, is a person who tells an interesting story before you\u2019ve heard them say a word. I am constantly trying to pass my own self on the street. What character am I performing? How complete is the portrait? How clear is the impression?<\/p>\n

Cassandra unpacks her weekend bag in her childhood bedroom and an entire self-portrait tumbles out. There are the sneakers, the blue jeans, and the sweater shirts, worn before it was common. It isn\u2019t the cost or the formality that draws Cassandra\u2019s pleasure\u2014it is that she sees personhood in her possessions. Those shoes are just beginning to develop \u201cstyle.\u201d I remember the dark winter in college when I briefly considered giving up all my exercise attire because I believed that the person I wanted to be didn\u2019t run for health. In fact, maybe that person didn\u2019t have health at all.<\/p>\n

It is true that joy can come from having a particular cocktail in a particular apartment or joy can come from finding that your partner\u2019s borrowed sweatshirt perfectly fits into your own wardrobe. But this is not the only way to find joy. Seeking joy in perfection\u2014and it turns out this is obvious\u2014is awfully hard. Chasing the complete portrait, the faultless image, is near impossible. Contradictions make people interesting, and socks aren\u2019t just signals, they also keep your feet warm. There is a section in Cassandra<\/em> titled \u201cJudith Speaks.\u201d Judith is doing the talking partly because Cassandra has intentionally overdosed on prescription pills, but Judith\u2019s clarity goes beyond mere consciousness. Judith understands something that Cassandra doesn\u2019t. In one beautiful moment Judith, readying for the altar, considers lipstick and decides against it. All her bravery is in that gesture. Hemingway, whom Baker conspicuously admired, described his first wife, Hadley, as taking every decision as a gift. You can only do that if you aren\u2019t always worried about making the wrong one. Reading Cassandra at the Wedding <\/em>now, I still don\u2019t identify with Judith, but I finally realize that she is right.<\/p>\n

Swimsuit<\/strong><\/p>\n

\"\"<\/a><\/p>\n

\u201cMy old high school tank suit \u2026 It still had the Putnam swimming team insignia on the right leg, and it was quite a beautiful color, sort of a blue-grey-green that it has arrived at through season of chlorinated water and full-strength sun\u201d<\/p>\n

Cassandra loves her high school bathing suit. She is painfully in need of a bit of solid past. In classic form, Cassandra\u2019s little token has Hemingway-esque aesthetic merit. The suit is good because it is worn and it still holds. I look for this \u201cblue-grey-green\u201d everywhere.<\/p>\n

Driving gloves<\/strong><\/p>\n

\"\"<\/a><\/p>\n

\u201cIt was still hot, but the edge was off, and I sat quiet for a minute while the dust settled. I stripped off my gloves, pulled the belt apart, found coins for the phone \u2026\u201d<\/p>\n

As a tribute to her mother, or her grandmother, or her car, Cassandra wears driving gloves when she commands the Riley. I love how idiosyncratic this seems, it\u2019s a telling portrait of the individualism she\u2019s searching for.<\/p>\n

Blouse and skirt<\/strong><\/p>\n

\"\"<\/a><\/p>\n

\u201cI hadn\u2019t brought much, three skirts, three or four blouses.\u201d<\/p>\n

It was difficult to imagine Cassandra in a skirt and blouse until my research unearthed staggering photographs of Joan Didion as a Berkeley student at around the same time. I can imagine both daughters of the Central Valley perfectly attired in the acceptable uniform of the time, knowing it is armor against exactly nothing.<\/p>\n

Wedding dress<\/strong><\/p>\n

\"\"<\/a><\/p>\n

According to Cassandra, \u201cNobody ever gets married in anything decent. You wear something you wouldn\u2019t be caught dead in anyplace but your own wedding.\u201d For Cassandra, a bride cannot have fine, restrained taste in wedding dresses because to wed is itself grossly conventional. So when Cassandra and her sister unknowingly pick out the same dress to wear for the wedding, Cassandra is devastated. Cassandra cannot stand the idea that Judith can have a conventional marriage and<\/em> something of simple restraint. It violates her character notes, it interrupts the sealing in and soldering of her character.<\/p>\n

Sneakers<\/strong><\/p>\n

\"\"<\/a><\/p>\n

Like her worn-out bathing suit, Cassandra loves her worn-out sweatshirts and sneakers because they attest to the fact of her own existence, like tick marks up a doorjamb tracking a child\u2019s growth. She also likes, I presume, their affront to the conventions of tidiness prized by those who lack her towering \u201cstyle\u201d and creativity.<\/p>\n

\u201c\u2009\u2018They were falling apart three years ago. They haven\u2019t even got tongues. Just look at them.\u2019 I looked. \u2018To my eye,\u2019 I said. \u2018They\u2019ve got real style, or at least they\u2019re beginning to get it.\u2019\u2009\u201d<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Click here to download your very own printable Cassandra paper doll.<\/em><\/strong><\/a><\/p>\n

Find our other paper dolls here.<\/em><\/a><\/p>\n

Join us this evening, Wednesday, December 2, at 6 P.M.<\/small>\u00a0on Zoom, to meet Jenny Kroik and Julia Berick and draw a paper doll of your own.<\/em><\/a><\/p>\n

Julia Berick is a writer who lives in New York. She works at\u00a0<\/i>The Paris Review.<\/p>\n

Jenny Kroik is an illustrator and painter. She has created covers for\u00a0<\/em>The New Yorker, and made illustrations for\u00a0<\/em>The Washington Post,<\/em>\u00a0t<\/em>he<\/em>\u00a0Los Angeles Times, Penguin Random House, and more.<\/em><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

Who better to dress up and dress down than Dorothy Baker’s Cassandra?<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1766,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_acf_changed":false,"footnotes":""},"categories":[54020],"tags":[67827],"class_list":["post-149420","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-literary-paper-dolls","tag-featured"],"acf":[],"yoast_head":"\nLiterary Paper Dolls: Cassandra<\/title>\n<meta name=\"description\" content=\"Who better to dress up and dress down than Dorothy Baker's Cassandra?\" \/>\n<meta name=\"robots\" content=\"index, follow, max-snippet:-1, max-image-preview:large, max-video-preview:-1\" \/>\n<link rel=\"canonical\" href=\"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/2020\/12\/02\/literary-paper-dolls-cassandra\/\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:locale\" content=\"en_US\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:type\" content=\"article\" \/>\n<meta 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