The Husband's Story: A NovelPhillips, David Graham
General
The Husband's Story: A Novel
Phillips, David Graham
Husband and wife -- Fiction; New York (N.Y.) -- Social life and customs -- 20th century -- Fiction
I couldn’t but admit that there were two sides to the problem of our
parents. It was shameful to be ashamed of them. But it was also human.
I couldn’t--and can’t--utterly damn in Edna a fault, a vulgar weakness,
I myself had, and almost everyone I knew. No doubt, gentle reader,
you are scandalized and disgusted. But one of my objects in relating
this whole story is to scandalize and to disgust you. You have had too
much consideration at the hands of writers--you and your hypocritical
virtues and your hysterical nerves. If you are an American, you are
probably far in advance of your parents in worldly knowledge, in
education, in every way except perhaps manly and womanly self-respect.
For along with your progress has come an infection of snobbishness and
toadyism that seems in some mysterious way inseparable from higher
civilization. So be shocked and disgusted with Edna and me, and don’t
turn your hypocritical eyes inward on your own secret thoughts and
actions about your own humble parents. Above all, don’t learn from
this horrifying episode a decenter mode of thinking and feeling--_and_
acting.
“We must get them out of the way before we move to New York,” said
Edna. “Ever since Margot began at Mrs. Ryper’s I’ve been on pins and
needles. You don’t know how malicious fashionable people are. Why, some
of them who have nothing to do might at any time run out to Passaic and
see for themselves.”
Edna was sitting up in my lap, gazing at me with wide harassed-looking
eyes. I burst out laughing. “They might take a camera along, and get
some snapshots,” I suggested.
Edna’s face contracted with horror and her form grew limp and weak.
“My God!” she cried. “So they might. Godfrey, we must attend to it at
once.”
III
I have never been able to come to a satisfactory verdict as to the
intelligence of the human race. Is it stupid, or is it, rather,
sluggish? Is it unable to think, or does it refuse to think? Does it
believe the follies it pretends to believe and usually acts upon, or is
it the victim of its own willful prejudices and hypocrisies? Never have
I decided that a certain man or woman was practically witless, but that
he or she has confounded me by saying or doing something indicating
shrewdness or even wisdom.
The women are especially difficult to judge. Take Edna, for example.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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