Table for Two: Fictions

“Irina couldn’t read a word on the leaflet, but embedded in the middle of the text, staring back at her with an expression at once determined and wise, was none other than Vladimir Ilyich Lenin, the very man who, not a week before, had reminded her that the revolution in Russia was meant to be a foothold. Irina scanned the departing sample of the world’s citizens, and sure enough, there among them she spied two young women wearing the headscarves of home. Rushing across the street, Irina called to them.”

The pattern of Irina’s life is clear in this passage, as she follows the same steps she took in Moscow to secure community and employment. Unlike Pushkin, who allows himself to be moved by the crowd, Irina focuses on her needs and abilities, forcing her way into the spaces she needs to succeed.

“But then, in a steeplechase, does the thoroughbred that has cleared the first hurdle suddenly slow down to consider the second? Of course not. Taking confidence from the success of his first leap, losing himself in the thrill of the contest and the sound of his own thundering hooves, he takes the second hurdle without a second thought. Just so, when Timothy executed this second signature, he easily cleared the moral obstacles and raced around the track while perfectly capturing the Nobel Prize winner’s thick-rimmed spectacles, the off-center part in his hair, and his well-known predilection for tweeds.”

The skill needed to commit forgery is framed as art in this passage, letting the reader in on Timothy’s temptation. Though forging signatures is immoral, he reframes his actions to bring himself closer to the art he wants to create.

“Yes, this story takes place during the well-reported drop in crime in American urban centers, so there were fewer murders and armed robberies occurring on a daily basis. But that didn’t mean there weren’t serious instances of malfeasance to be investigated! At that very moment, there was a crew of fast-talking operators selling promises of citizenship to newly arriving immigrants in Chinatown, and another that had been opening up lines of consumer credit under borrowed identities. Never mind that the boys with the MBAs had begun building Sistine Chapels of larceny right there on Wall Street.”

Towles draws on his experience as an investment banker here, explaining how white-collar and blue-collar crimes are perceived differently. Though Timothy’s crime is non-violent and seemingly irrelevant, the nature of crime lies in its intentions, and Timothy’s intent is to deceive prospective buyers.

“Emotional contagion is a term coined by behavioral scientists for a fairly universal aspect of human nature—that we tend to mirror the mood signals of others. Thus, when someone smiles at us, we are likely to smile in response, which in turn makes us feel a little more positively about them and our circumstances in general. In this manner, laughter will tend to prompt laughter, anger will prompt anger, and tears will prompt tears. From an evolutionary standpoint, the emotional contagion is an important trait. It’s what allows a mother to comfort a child so effectively. It’s also what allows us to immediately adjust our demeanor when suddenly encountering friend or foe in the wild.”

Emotional contagion, in “Hasta Luego,” defines Smitty and Jerry’s characters, as they both are infected by and infect others in the story. The final line regarding predation foreshadows the way in which Smitty’s demeanor will deceive Jerry into thinking everything is safe.

“We all have our flaws. Some large and some small. Some that come and go, others that persist. I, for one, don’t remember birthdays. I’m not always welcoming to perfectly nice people whom I’m meeting for the first time. When inconvenienced, even slightly, I can’t resist the temptation to let the person who’s inconvenienced me know that I’ve been inconvenienced. And I tend to allow my priorities to overshadow the priorities of others, even of those I love. Perhaps, especially of those I love. As I stood there in the customer service line thinking of all that had just transpired, what I found myself hoping, what I found myself almost praying for, was that despite all my flaws, when the time came, as it surely would, my wife would be willing to fight for me as hard as Jennifer had fought for her husband. My wife, her name is Ellen.”

Jerry’s conclusion to his story centers on the importance of balance and understanding in navigating characters’ traits, specifically their flaws. Though Smitty has betrayed Jerry, Jerry understands that this flaw does not define him, just as Jennifer’s insistence and Jerry’s own irritability do not define them.

“And not simply in terms of her husband’s infidelity. She felt cheated by the implicit promises of her youth. Cheated by institutions like Smith College, the Episcopal Church, and Jane Austen, each of which openly celebrated the sacrament of marriage. Cheated by old friends who either sided with Harry or diplomatically expressed their neutrality. Cheated by members of her social circle who were less likely to invite her for dinner because she made for an odd number at the table. Ultimately, cheated by Life, which had forced her to endure the scandal, the loneliness, the indignities of marital collapse—even as less-deserving women all around her exuded a sense of moral superiority secured by an untarnished union.”

Peggy’s experience undermines her expectation that women can behave according to social conventions and be rewarded. Harry’s infidelity broke this illusion, setting the stage for Peggy’s feelings of betrayal and shame when John’s hobby is revealed.

“‘You probably think me a fool,’ he said, after a moment. ‘A fool?’ ‘A grown man spending his Saturday afternoons on roller skates…’ ‘I’m a grown man who plays video games in his pajamas! Believe me, John. You’re the last person I think of as a fool.’ John smiled and said, ‘Thank you,’ acknowledging the politeness of my assurance without committing to believe it. Either way, he wasn’t done with what he had to say. He was just getting started.”

John and Jeremy’s mutual understanding in this passage shows how the nature of John’s hobby is not the focal point in John and Peggy’s marriage. It does not matter what the hobby is, so long as it is not hidden from one’s partner.

“When Tommy called the Carnegie Hall box office, he discovered that the tickets for the Russian’s performance wouldn’t be on sale for a month. However, if you made a tax-deductible donation of two thousand dollars to Carnegie Hall, as a ‘Patron’ you could purchase advance tickets for the upcoming season starting on the following Monday, and through a dedicated phone line, no less. They probably had Tommy at tax deductible, but the promise of advance tickets sales and a dedicated phone line sealed the deal. So, a check was written and on the following Monday morning Tommy was dialing the Patron’s desk the moment it opened at 10:00 a.m.”

This passage outlines how Tommy’s motivation in attending Carnegie Hall is defined by his desire for social power and standing, rather than by his love of music. The desire for a title, like “Patron,” that becomes a type of conspicuous consumption—and a tax deduction—are greater selling points than the offer of fine music.

“And then, it was over. Oh, how we applauded. First in our chairs, and then on our feet. For we were not simply applauding this virtuoso, or the composition, or Bach. We were applauding one another. Applauding the joy which we had shared and which had become the fuller through the sharing. As we applauded, everyone in every aisle was looking to their left and right such that suddenly I and the old man were nodding at each other with smiles on our faces in acknowledgment of what we had just witnessed, what we had been a part of.”

This passage emphasizes the importance of community in “sharing” an experience. The fact that togetherness is a critical component of the performance for Mary serves to highlight the disappointment of not being able to share Mr. Fein’s recording with Tommy.

“No one is born pompous. To attain that state requires a certain amount of planning and effort. Presumably you could achieve it by a variety of means, but one sure way is to attend an old prep school that’s a little past its prime; while there, exhibit some facility in a field sport that you will never have cause to play again; room with a fellow whose name is over the library door; and along the way, gain familiarity with a pastime that requires travel and specialized apparel—such as duck hunting or downhill skiing. Follow these simple steps and you are sure to gain the necessary self-assurance to expound authoritatively on wine, politics, and the lives of the less fortunate—and to generally go on and on about anything else. Case in point: Billy Skinner.”

The irony of this passage lies in Skinner’s own pompous behavior in the rest of the story. Though Billy is seemingly pretentious, Skinner displays true arrogance in his deception of his family. Additionally, Skinner and Billy likely had similar, if not congruent, upbringings.

“One of the indisputable charms of the Metropolitan Museum is that the admission of twenty dollars is ‘recommended.’ The very notion of a recommended fee is so perfectly aristocratic. For to set a definitive price on access to the riches of the world’s cultures after the robber barons had gone to such trouble to pillage them on our behalf would simply have been tacky.”

Skinner shows his frugality in this passage, noting how he resents the idea of paying to see the art collected by rich men. However, Skinner, too, is trying to swindle art from his family, connecting him implicitly to the “robber barons.”

“‘Lucas’s provision!’ Reese smiled and then explained for my benefit. ‘Lucas suggested that once I restored the Annunciation, I should have painters make two duplicates of it, one that could hang in my house and one that could hang here, while the original is hanging at Yale.’ Peter and Sharon smiled at their son with well-placed pride. But with the blush of the genuinely modest, Lucas set the record straight: ‘It was actually Uncle Percy who gave me the idea.’ At which point, everyone in the room raised their glass in my direction.”

In an ironic twist, Skinner’s plan to convince Lucas to agree to selling the painting backfires, as Lucas reveals how Skinner’s influence furthered Reese’s success at excluding Skinner from the sale. As everyone thanks Skinner for his influence, they do not realize that Skinner was hoping to profit from his deception.

“The young lady studied her for a moment. Then she put out her cigarette, smiled like a Southern belle, and replied with the accent to match.—Oh, it’s all right, I reckon…It’s got all manner of nouns and verbs. And adjectives too! But it’s just not true to life. Why, when the hero is slipped a Mickey in chapter twenty-two, he topples over in sixty seconds flat. But in chapter fourteen, when he gets shot in the belly, he makes it halfway across town on foot. And as for ess ee ex: Suffice it to say, there’s barely a mention. She shook her head in a manner that presumed mutual disbelief.”

Eve’s decision to ridicule the women with a fake accent and false indignation quickly establishes her as a character that runs against the social grain. She intentionally offends the women to separate herself from the gossip and social conventions that govern the women’s discussion.

“It is a prison cell. It is my Bastille. For the first time in years, Prentice felt the force of his own convictions. —Providence has brought you to Los Angeles, Evelyn. And you must visit with It. Young William, one of the hotel’s drivers, has been put at my disposal; I put him at yours. You must go out into the scent of the orange blossoms, out into the temperate nights of Hollywood, where all of its most elusive delicacies hide in plain sight.”

Prentice’s reflection on his delusion of grandeur reveals his desire to change the way he perceives himself and the world around him. He does not want to live his entire life in the hotel, but he feels trapped in a prison of his own making.

“So this blonde from nowhere must have had the boys at the studios tearing their hair out. Even from across the room you could see that no one had a leash on her. With the narrowed eyes of a killer, she was sussing out the place, and she liked what she saw. She liked the band, the tempo, the tequila—the whole shebang. If Dehavvy was bandying about with the likes of this one, you wouldn’t have long to wait for the wrong place and the wrong time to have their tearful reunion.”

Litsky’s view of Eve is not entirely incorrect, but he underestimates her abilities. In saying that Eve is only a danger to Olivia, Litsky fails to recognize how Eve’s unpredictability is an asset in protecting Olivia’s reputation.

“Eve couldn’t pinpoint when her dislike of lists began, but it must have been around the time she was twelve. It was in the basement of St. Mary’s, where she and the rest of the sixth graders were charged with memorizing the Ten Commandments. Thou shalt not this. Thou shalt not that. And thou shalt not the other thing. Then there was the list painted on a sign at the country club pool to remind the children there would be No Running. No Diving. No Splashing. But most important was her mother’s ever-expanding list of what a young lady should not do.”

This insight into Eve’s childhood forms the basis of her agency in Los Angeles. Although her mother tried to instill a sense of rigid femininity in Eve as a child, Eve is now undoing those efforts by making a list of possible destinations, embodying her sense of freedom.

“Those last words were sour in Eve’s mouth. To ask her friend to forget something like this felt like a betrayal. But at the same time, Eve knew it was the right thing to do. For as women, this was their lot. They had to learn to live with acts of violation. Of course, Livvy would never fully forget this day. It would always be there. But by burying it for a time, she might be able to move on. Move on in some semblance of her prior self. Eve waited for Livvy’s tears to stop and her breathing to ease.”

Eve sees a pointed similarity between herself and the men that attempt to control her and Olivia in her own words. Eve is distraught because she is protecting Olivia the same way men often claim to protect women, through diminishing women’s experiences and excluding them from solutions to their problems.

“It was a large room with sunlight pouring through two balcony doors. To Prentice’s right was a canopied bed fit for Marie Antoinette. Arranged on the bookshelves to his left, apparently without irony, were leather-bound collections of Dickens, Thackeray, and Balzac. There was also a three-volume set of Shakespeare’s plays standing between a pair of bookends on the Louis XVI desk, as if Freddie were so accustomed to reading the words of the Bard, he needed to keep them close at hand.”

Freddie’s collection highlights the appearance of refinement and education that people in Freddie and Prentice’s line of work need to project. The ultimate reveal that Shakespeare’s works are on Freddie’s desk because they contain the nude photos serves to subvert this image.

“Wendell spent the next twelve months coming to understand just how out of work he was. Which is to say, all the way out. Never mind Warner Brothers, Paramount, or Twentieth Century-Fox. He couldn’t get a call returned from the boys who made westerns on a shoestring. —There’s work to be had in Ojai, one of them told him with a smirk. If you don’t mind picking oranges for two dollars a day. When you’re down and out in Hollywood, everyone’s a comedian. That was rule number two.”

In the Great Depression, losing one’s job was devastating; though Wendell is at fault for his dismissal, this passage serves to highlight the extent to which he is at risk of becoming impoverished. The suggestion of picking oranges evokes the struggles of residents of the Dust Bowl, reminding the reader of Wendell’s comparative luxury.

“Fuller’s casino was an elaborate, intricate, and well-oiled machine of human failings. Everyone there understood that. They all had come to either indulge in or profit from a sin. And they all had some semblance of a smile on their face, even the losers. As Finnegan took in the scene, the one thing for certain was that old or young, homely or handsome, the men and women assembled on that dance floor were guilty. Every last one of them.”

Finnegan’s passing judgment on everyone present at the casino shows his lack of nuance. It is clear that not everyone is equally guilty, but Finnegan’s absolutist view of the situation leads him to give up on pursuing a moral life.

“A husband hunter, thought Finnegan. It wasn’t the first time he’d seen it. With the last of her money, she was putting herself up at a fancy hotel in the hopes of getting herself well hitched. Finnegan would keep an eye on her. If she was overly forward with the guests at the bar, he’d politely show her the door.”

Finnegan, like Litsky, underestimates Eve’s abilities, assuming her cunning and intelligence are only useful for securing a husband. His urge to dismiss Eve conflicts with his decision to “keep an eye on her”—thoughtless misogyny fighting with his instinct for self-preservation.

“Ross’s right leg was bouncing lightly in the air, as if she had all the time in the world.—If you don’t mind my asking, Miss Ross, how did you get in my house?—I broke a window.—That’s not very ladylike.—I’m not very ladylike. Finnegan smiled, then gestured at the whiskey.—I’m glad to see you’ve helped yourself.—Yes, thank you. It’s delicious. May I? She leaned forward and picked up the bottle, offering to pour him a glass.”

In the ultimate fulfillment of Eve’s role as an embodiment of feminine agency, she declares that she is not “ladylike” as she offers Finnegan the drugged glass. Finnegan, continuing to underestimate Eve, does not suspect that he has already lost to her.

“For he had no doubt that Miss Ross had wielded the scissors herself and then destroyed the more revealing remnants. If a man had retrieved the photographs, he wouldn’t have done so. He would have delivered them in their entirety. But to what end? For there weren’t more than a handful of men in the entire business—at any level—who could be trusted to take possession of these images innocently.”

Marcus realizes that at issue is the photographs’ distribution, noting how a man would have kept the photos intact because he would have not cared to stop the toxic objectification of the actresses. However, Eve removes and destroys the nudity—which she has also anonymized by removing the heads from the bodies—and Marcus realizes how this destruction is the needed retribution for the photos having been taken at all.