Anyone to Turn to

岡沢亮 contact: boiledend0320[@]gmail.com http://researchmap.jp/ryookazawa

There isn't anyone out there who isn't Seymour's Fat Lady

エズメという名前の猫を週末に預かっているので、サリンジャーの『ナイン・ストーリーズ』を少し読み返していた。「エズメのために」という短編があったことを思い出したのだ。といっても英語原文で読むのは初めてかもしれない。柴田元幸さんがどこかでグラス家について、全ての答えを持っているはずの兄シーモアはもういない、と一言でまとめていて、素晴らしい表現だと思った記憶がある。

フラニーとズーイ』の最後の部分が好きだ。番組収録に向かうグラス家の天才少年少女たち。それを思い出して語る場面。

Seymour'd told me to shine my shoes just as I was going out the door with Waker. I was furious. The studio audience were all morons, the announcer was a moron, the sponsors were morons, and I just damn well wasn't going to shine my shoes for them, I told Seymour. I said they couldn't see them anyway, where we sat. He said to shine them anyway. He said to shine them for the Fat Lady. I didn't know what the hell he was talking about, but he had a very Seymour look on his face, and so I did it. He never did tell me who the Fat Lady was, but I shined my shoes for the Fat Lady every time I ever went on the air again—all the years you and I were on the program together, if you remember. I don't think I missed more than just a couple of times. This terribly clear, clear picture of the Fat Lady formed in my mind. I had her sitting on this porch all day, swatting flies, with her radio going full-blast from morning till night. I figured the heat was terrible, and she probably had cancer, and—I don't know. Anyway, it seemed goddam clear why Seymour wanted me to shine my shoes when I went on the air. It made sense[.]

 

I don't care where an actor acts. It can be in summer stock, it can be over a radio, it can be over television, it can be in a goddam Broadway theatre, complete with the most fashionable, most well-fed, most sunburned-looking audience you can imagine. But I'll tell you a terrible secret—Are you listening to me? There isn't anyone out there who isn't Seymour's Fat Lady. That includes your Professor Tupper, buddy. And all his goddam cousins by the dozens. There isn't anyone anywhere that isn't Seymour's Fat Lady. Don't you know that? Don't you know that goddam secret yet? And don't you know—listen to me, now—don't you know who that Fat Lady really is? . . . Ah, buddy. Ah, buddy. It's Christ Himself. Christ Himself, buddy.