All Those Vanished Engines
“THE FIRST HINGE In the moments of passive crisis that so far punctuated her life, Paulina had a habit of slipping away into an invented world over which she might pretend to have control. Lately this world was the one she had discovered in her diary, a future where these horrible women would persist not even in memory. Their foolish cruelty would have left no trace. In that world, the Yankees had broken through the Crater, and General Lee had surrendered his army at Appomattox Courthouse in 186...5.
But what about Paulina herself? What would have become of her? In these instances she had found a way to reproduce herself. In the library ballroom, standing on the dais in the humid, Mardi Gras night, she had no access to her actual diary, stolen from her bedroom. She could not remember precisely where she’d left her story. So she rejoined it further on. And in her imagination she was unconstrained by the artificial lingo of the future, which previously she’d tried to re-create: Wrapped in her coat, holding her mittened palms to the fire, it was hard for her to hide the exasperation in her voice.MoreLess
But what about Paulina herself? What would have become of her? In these instances she had found a way to reproduce herself. In the library ballroom, standing on the dais in the humid, Mardi Gras night, she had no access to her actual diary, stolen from her bedroom. She could not remember precisely where she’d left her story. So she rejoined it further on. And in her imagination she was unconstrained by the artificial lingo of the future, which previously she’d tried to re-create: Wrapped in her coat, holding her mittened palms to the fire, it was hard for her to hide the exasperation in her voice.MoreLess
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