{"id":44603,"date":"2013-01-09T15:30:45","date_gmt":"2013-01-09T20:30:45","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/?p=44603"},"modified":"2013-01-29T03:14:16","modified_gmt":"2013-01-29T08:14:16","slug":"contingencies","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/2013\/01\/09\/contingencies\/","title":{"rendered":"Contingencies"},"content":{"rendered":"

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

To celebrate the sixty-fifth anniversary of Raymond Queneau\u2019s <\/em>Exercises in Style, New Directions<\/a> is relaunching this classic text as an expanded edition. In addition to exercises by Queneau making their English-language debut, this edition also includes new exercises penned by contemporary authors. The following, in the spirit of Queneau, is by Lynne Tillman. <\/em><\/p>\n

At dinner with so-called intelligent people, during our discussion of the Marquis de Sade, I recognized a common lunacy: the fairy tale of absolute and complete freedom.\u00a0People don\u2019t know what to do with the freedom they have, I announced, and trounced off, as if insulted. Today, I took a bus, a random bus, no particular number, a white and blue bus, or pale green. No matter, it was a bus, and I took it. First I stood in line, with everyone else, a citizen of a city standing peacefully, waiting for public transport, a condition of urban life. I heard two men, no particular men, or maybe very particular men, but not to me. I took the bus, anyway. The men were discussing their office, where they seemed mad about a woman, and I listened because I could. They described her in broad terms: \u201cShe\u2019s got big tits…. OMG, that ass. Shit!\u201d I entered the bus, paid my fare, the driver said nothing, and unencumbered, except by my hopes and dreams and desires, I walked to the back of the bus, my eyes roving, checking for free seats, and there were good reasons why I kept moving, and took the seat I chose, but these are insignificant reasons except to me. I found a seat all to myself, sat down, exhaling freely, and happily, because I celebrate public buses, especially when I have my own seat next to a window, but then the two men, still exclaiming about the woman\u2019s ass and tits, took the seats behind me. Now I felt hindered also by their bulk and hulk, as well as their boisterous voices, bellows about asses and tits, and if I hadn\u2019t known myself as myself, if I didn\u2019t understand the invisible boundaries in which I existed, with my freedom, I would have assaulted the men. I was bigger than both, and freer, and a black belt in karate. Before I had the chance to pummel one or both, because I was at liberty to do what I wanted, even if it meant imprisonment for a day or two, the two men stopped their bellows, and instead turned to watch two other male passengers nearly come to blows, one jostling the other for a seat. Now the three of us, the tits and ass men and myself, alarmed by this altercation, became a community of sorts. Suddenly I heard a rip, certainly a rent of some kind, which made a decided sound in the air. The man, who had jostled the first for a seat, now watched by the newly formed society of the three of us, took that prized seat. Oh, I thought, oh, and wondered what my two companions thought. It was a strange day, and one has such strange freedoms; for I could have ridden that bus the entire day\u2014until it ended its journeys, or until the bus driver informed me that I had to get off. Any number of possibilities presented themselves to me, I could even have fought him to remain! But thinking it over, I watched all the people I had known, in a sense, on the bus, as they removed themselves from it. I was alone again with my thoughts, not bothered by anything, and, when the bus stopped near a park, one I had never visited, I leaped off violently. Again, the driver said nothing, but now I took his silence to mean assent and even understanding, and walked toward the park and into it through its wide gates, and sat down, this time at a caf\u00e9, where I discovered that the man who had been jostled on the bus, earlier in the day, was being advised by another to patch his overcoat, a dark brown parka, the same one he had worn on the bus. A piece of fabric hung on its hem. It may have come down during the altercation. Now I thought, he\u2019s having an alteration, and wondered if this linguistic association occurred to him as well. Here we are, I remember thinking, in a great chain of being, and he could think whatever he wanted. I pretended not to notice him, naturally.<\/p>\n

\u00a9 2013 by New Directions.<\/p>\n

\nLynne Tillman is the author of several novels and short story collections, most recently <\/em>Someday This Will Be Funny.<\/em><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

To celebrate the sixty-fifth anniversary of Raymond Queneau\u2019s Exercises in Style, New Directions is relaunching this classic text as an expanded edition. In addition to exercises by Queneau making their English-language debut, this edition also includes new exercises penned by contemporary authors. The following, in the spirit of Queneau, is by Lynne Tillman. At dinner […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":463,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_acf_changed":false,"footnotes":""},"categories":[419],"tags":[9722,6941,5245,9721,530,75],"class_list":["post-44603","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-arts-culture","tag-exercises-in-style","tag-lynne-tillman","tag-new-directions","tag-raymond-queneau","tag-translation","tag-writing"],"acf":[],"yoast_head":"\nContingencies by Lynne Tillman<\/title>\n<meta name=\"description\" content=\"January 9, 2013 \u2013 To celebrate the sixty-fifth anniversary of Raymond Queneau\u2019s Exercises in Style, New Directions is relaunching this classic text as an expanded edition.\" \/>\n<meta name=\"robots\" content=\"index, follow, max-snippet:-1, max-image-preview:large, max-video-preview:-1\" \/>\n<link rel=\"canonical\" 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