{"id":67521,"date":"2014-03-05T11:58:59","date_gmt":"2014-03-05T16:58:59","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/?p=67521"},"modified":"2014-03-05T09:16:34","modified_gmt":"2014-03-05T14:16:34","slug":"welcome-to-paradise","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/2014\/03\/05\/welcome-to-paradise\/","title":{"rendered":"Welcome to Paradise"},"content":{"rendered":"<p><em>The sounds of Key West.<\/em><\/p>\n<script>\/* <![CDATA[ *\/ portfolio_slideshow.slideshows[460] = {\"timeout\":\"4000\",\"autoplay\":\"false\",\"trans\":\"fade\",\"loop\":\"true\",\"speed\":\"400\",\"nowrap\":\"true\"}; \/* ]]> *\/<\/script><div id=\"slideshow-wrapper460\" class=\"slideshow-wrapper clearfix portfolio-slideshow-centered\">\n<div id=\"slideshow-nav460\" class=\"slideshow-nav\">\n\t<a class=\"pause\" style=\"display:none\" href=\"javascript:void(0);\">Pause<\/a>\n\t<a class=\"play\" href=\"javascript:void(0);\">Play<\/a>\n\t<a class=\"restart\" style=\"display:none\" href=\"javascript: void(0);\">Play<\/a>\n\t<a class=\"slideshow-prev\" href=\"javascript: void(0);\">Prev<\/a>\n\t<span class=\"sep\">|<\/span>\n\t<a class=\"slideshow-next\" href=\"javascript: void(0);\">Next<\/a>\n\t<span class=\"slideshow-info460 slideshow-info\"><\/span>\n<\/div><!-- .slideshow-nav -->\n<div id=\"portfolio-slideshow460\" class=\"portfolio-slideshow\" style=\"\">\n\n\t\n\t\n\t\t\t\t\n\t\t\t\n\t\t<div class=\"slideshow-next slideshow-content \">\n\t\t<a class=\"slideshow-next\" href=\"javascript:void(0)\" ><img loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"psp-active\" data-img=\"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2014\/03\/Key-West-3.jpg\" src=\"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2014\/03\/Key-West-3.jpg\" height=\"450\" width=\"600\" alt=\"Slide 1\"><\/a>\t\t<\/div>\n\n\t\n\t\t\t\t\n\t\t\t\n\t\t<div class=\"slideshow-next slideshow-content not-first\">\n\t\t<a class=\"slideshow-next\" href=\"javascript:void(0)\" ><img loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"psp-active\" data-img=\"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2014\/03\/Key-West-5-e1394028314268.jpg\" src=\"data:image\/gif;base64,R0lGODlhAQABAIAAAAAAAP\/\/\/yH5BAEAAAAALAAAAAABAAEAAAIBRAA7\" height=\"450\" width=\"600\" alt=\"Slide 2\"><\/a>\t\t<\/div>\n\n\t\n\t\t\t\t\n\t\t\t\n\t\t<div class=\"slideshow-next slideshow-content not-first\">\n\t\t<a class=\"slideshow-next\" href=\"javascript:void(0)\" ><img loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"psp-active\" data-img=\"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2014\/03\/Key-West-2-Spiderman.jpg\" src=\"data:image\/gif;base64,R0lGODlhAQABAIAAAAAAAP\/\/\/yH5BAEAAAAALAAAAAABAAEAAAIBRAA7\" height=\"320\" width=\"433\" alt=\"Slide 3\"><\/a>\t\t<\/div>\n\n\t\n\t\t\t\t\n\t\t\t\n\t\t<div class=\"slideshow-next slideshow-content not-first\">\n\t\t<a class=\"slideshow-next\" href=\"javascript:void(0)\" ><img loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"psp-active\" data-img=\"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2014\/03\/Key-West-4.jpg\" src=\"data:image\/gif;base64,R0lGODlhAQABAIAAAAAAAP\/\/\/yH5BAEAAAAALAAAAAABAAEAAAIBRAA7\" height=\"450\" width=\"600\" alt=\"Slide 4\"><\/a>\t\t<\/div>\n\n\t\n\t\t\t\t\n\t\t\t\n\t\t<div class=\"slideshow-next slideshow-content not-first\">\n\t\t<a class=\"slideshow-next\" href=\"javascript:void(0)\" ><img loading=\"lazy\" decoding=\"async\" class=\"psp-active\" data-img=\"https:\/\/www.theparisreview.org\/blog\/wp-content\/uploads\/2014\/03\/Key-West-1.jpg\" src=\"data:image\/gif;base64,R0lGODlhAQABAIAAAAAAAP\/\/\/yH5BAEAAAAALAAAAAABAAEAAAIBRAA7\" height=\"450\" width=\"600\" alt=\"Slide 5\"><\/a>\t\t<\/div>\n\n\t<\/div>\n<div class=\"slideshow-meta\">\n\n\t\n\t\t\t<p class=\"slideshow-caption\">\n\t\t\t\t\t<\/p>\n\t\n\t\t\t<div class=\"slideshow-description\">\n\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\n\n\t\n\t\t\t<p class=\"slideshow-caption\">\n\t\t\t\t\t<\/p>\n\t\n\t\t\t<div class=\"slideshow-description\">\n\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\n\n\t\n\t\t\t<p class=\"slideshow-caption\">\n\t\t\t\t\t<\/p>\n\t\n\t\t\t<div class=\"slideshow-description\">\n\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\n\n\t\n\t\t\t<p class=\"slideshow-caption\">\n\t\t\t\t\t<\/p>\n\t\n\t\t\t<div class=\"slideshow-description\">\n\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\n\n\t\n\t\t\t<p class=\"slideshow-caption\">\n\t\t\t\t\t<\/p>\n\t\n\t\t\t<div class=\"slideshow-description\">\n\t\t\t\t\t<\/div>\n\t\n<\/div><\/div><!--#slideshow-wrapper-->\n<p>What do writers want? (Forget whether they\u2019re women or men, Uncle Sigmund. Forget money and fame.) They want quiet. Where do they go? They gather in Key West, Florida.<\/p>\n<p>Sure, the subtlest sounds\u2014the personally groaned sounds\u2014begin with deep sighs, as other people discuss pools being dredged by the jackhammering of coral next door, leaf blowers switched on at eight a.m., drunks on the sidewalk talking to themselves even more animatedly as the police car pulls to the curb. Last night I hung over my balcony to hear a staggering gentleman informing the officer that he did have a destination. He was \u201cgonna shuffle off to Buffalo.\u201d<\/p>\n<p>In the background, birds express opinions from people\u2019s shoulders on late-night walks (\u201cPretty but what else?\u201d\u2014a bird clearly meant to call one\u2019s life into question). All around the island cell phones go off, their ring tones arias from operas or a hip-hop version of \u201cBattle Hymn of the Republic.\u201d Dogs bark, cats hiss, and the bird on the shoulder of the guy in the trilby continues to wonder aloud what to expect after \u201cpretty.\u201d Maybe the fire truck, or the ambulance that makes just a few high-pitched noises, as if the vehicle itself is dying. As it races away, it\u2019s sure to set off a car alarm. <!--more--><\/p>\n<p>In front of our house, a man and a woman stop to discuss what he thought she was saying just a minute ago. He can hardly proceed because she erupts: that is not <i>at all<\/i> what she was saying. A guy goes by on a skateboard, aiming it toward irregularities in the street that might offer the opportunity of throwing him into some of the bicyclists. (Some of them pulling very young babies in see-through carts on the back, only inches off the ground. The babies wear helmets, as if babies only die if they sustain head injuries.) There\u2019s the whistle from the cruise ship, about to leave port! A loud, angry argument between two guys who seem to have argued before, since each anticipates the other\u2019s wild hand gestures. A Harley comes through, making a noise strong enough to kill bugs without spray. And overhead, flying low, United Airlines rumbles through the sky \u2026 but it makes it, unlike the sea plane a week or so ago that dropped stuff on the airport tarmac that turned out to be its landing gear. Then it angled crazily into the grass alongside the runway, as whistles went off and the airport was shut down. So much for making that flight.<\/p>\n<p>Meanwhile, the kapok tree in our back yard, so huge and ancient that foreign visitors make special trips to see it, is in stage three of its molting: \u201cthe bombs,\u201d green pellets that hit our tin roof all night long. All day, too. This goes on for over a month. Background music drifts through our open windows from the bars; drunken voices shriek on the balcony of a rental unit across the street, and into it comes the shrieking brakes of the trash truck, very early every Monday morning, lifting up trash cans, crushing the contents, preparing for its ride out to Mt. Trashmore to dump stuff and make the mountain higher. If it keeps going, there will be no space between mountain and sky for the buzzards to circle.<\/p>\n<p>The bars close at four, after which there\u2019s a final exodus of motorcycles loud enough to contact other planets. Soon it will be dawn and the skill saws will be out, the tree removal companies that grind up those gumbo limbos on the spot. Some wussy babies in their strollers can\u2019t stop crying. Down the street rattles the Conch Train, filled with tourists, who receive dubious, though loudly announced information about what they\u2019re seeing as they streak through neighborhoods on what looks like an enormous awninged caterpillar, whizzed past by kids on rollerblades and bicyclists who have the instincts of downhill racers in an avalanche, quickly jumping a curb to go the wrong way down sidewalks. A large van is loaded on a tow truck and dragged away (\u201cYeah, I\u2019d say it\u2019s been parked there since about Thanksgiving. There was a dog used to be tied to it.\u201d) Here comes a bed race down Duval street! There goes a teenager with a woman\u2019s purse; with those sounds she\u2019s emitting as her arm dangles limply at her side, I thought the kid might have grabbed a pig. Which wouldn\u2019t be impossible. People walk them on leashes here. Egrets walk around town like the many citizens who\u2019ve had hip replacement surgery, narrower of leg and whiter than the humans, but equally exaggerated and tentative in the movement of their leg joints. When an egret was walking up the steps to a store, I heard an owner say, \u201cLet it in. How do we know it doesn\u2019t have AmEx?\u201d Roosters scream, and though it\u2019s illegal to kill them, there are many contracts out on their lives. The street musicians are playing, the guys and girls with their tattoos depicting other things that make noise\u2014pirates; bucking broncos; wolves\u2014are climbing on their Harleys, the cruise ships are getting desperate, bleating \u201cWhen You Wish Upon a Star\u201d (not kidding) much more loudly, the second time they blow. Electric hedge clippers come out most any time of day. You just can\u2019t keep up with the fast growth of the ficus hedges all around town.<\/p>\n<p>Did Papa Hemingway go to Cuba to get away from it? Did Elizabeth Bishop use earplugs? Might this be why Tennessee drank? Did Jimmy Merrill ask the Ouija board for advice?<\/p>\n<p>Key West is advertised as Paradise, but it\u2019s the paradise of the sqealing pig in the daily rodeo wrestle, the thundering, enormous van blasting heavy metal, the church choir in a residential neighborhood that gets together now almost every night and loudly sings, voices and musical instruments amplified. Bang bang Maxwell\u2019s silver hammer is driving nails into the boards of the house across the street; the big refrigeration trucks make mighty, house-shaking noise as they pass by, playing chicken with the more sedate UPS, FedEx, and other delivery trucks that must navigate the narrow streets.<\/p>\n<p>Come one, come all! Certainly you\u2019ve read the recent story in <em>The<\/em> <i>New<\/i> <i>Yorker<\/i> about the literary seminar and its strange goings-on? Bring your tired, your weary, your tubas, your most enormous vehicles, your apps that play opera, your dogs that bark, your babies who cry, your drunks who howl, and friends in flip-flops who\u2019ll stub their toes on the irregular sidewalks and scream, \u201cOw!\u201d<\/p>\n<p>It\u2019s warm, and the rest of the country, not so much. The celebration\u2019s always going on, with drink mixers pulverizing ice and men slashing coconuts in half with swords. Who wouldn\u2019t let out a happy cry of triumph? If you make it to Paradise, you can pick up the beat, dial it up, push it, get yourself a shrieking bird and a vehicle with a music system worthy of Jon Bon Jovi. Turn it up until that bass shakes free their heart stents, man! Then head off, honking with pleasure, screaming a few\u00a0<em>yee haaaaaaaw<\/em>s from the window, high-fiving the wind, en route to a night of heavily amped karaoke. Sing loudly your songs of heartbreak, let everybody know you\u2019ve arrived. That baby\u2019s gotta grow up someday! lol<\/p>\n<p><em>Ann Beattie\u2019s story \u201cJanus\u201d was included in John Updike\u2019s <\/em>The Best American Short Stories of the Century<em>.<\/em><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"<p>The sounds of Key West. What do writers want? (Forget whether they\u2019re women or men, Uncle Sigmund. Forget money and fame.) They want quiet. Where do they go? They gather in Key West, Florida. Sure, the subtlest sounds\u2014the personally groaned sounds\u2014begin with deep sighs, as other people discuss pools being dredged by the jackhammering of [&hellip;]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":579,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_acf_changed":false,"footnotes":""},"categories":[7646],"tags":[13078,1886,13076,5753,13075,13077],"class_list":["post-67521","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-look-2","tag-drunks","tag-florida","tag-jackhammers","tag-key-west","tag-noise","tag-tubas"],"acf":[],"yoast_head":"<!-- This site is optimized with the Yoast SEO Premium plugin v25.4 (Yoast SEO v25.4) - https:\/\/yoast.com\/wordpress\/plugins\/seo\/ -->\n<title>Welcome to Paradise by Ann Beattie<\/title>\n<meta name=\"description\" content=\"March 5, 2014 \u2013 The sounds of Key West. What do writers want? (Forget whether they\u2019re women or men, Uncle Sigmund. 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