Winesburg, Ohio: A Group of Tales of Ohio Small Town LifeAnderson, Sherwood
General
Winesburg, Ohio: A Group of Tales of Ohio Small Town Life
Anderson, Sherwood
City and town life -- Fiction; Ohio -- Social life and customs -- Fiction; Pastoral fiction
For a half hour he stayed in the alleyway, smelling the strong smell of
animals too closely housed and letting his mind play with the strange
new thoughts that came to him. The very rankness of the smell of manure
in the clear sweet air awoke something heady in his brain. The poor
little houses lighted by kerosene lamps, the smoke from the chimneys
mounting straight up into the clear air, the grunting of pigs, the
women clad in cheap calico dresses and washing dishes in the kitchens,
the footsteps of men coming out of the houses and going off to the
stores and saloons of Main Street, the dogs barking and the children
crying—all of these things made him seem, as he lurked in the darkness,
oddly detached and apart from all life.
The excited young man, unable to bear the weight of his own thoughts,
began to move cautiously along the alleyway. A dog attacked him and had
to be driven away with stones, and a man appeared at the door of one of
the houses and swore at the dog. George went into a vacant lot and
throwing back his head looked up at the sky. He felt unutterably big
and remade by the simple experience through which he had been passing
and in a kind of fervor of emotion put up his hands, thrusting them
into the darkness above his head and muttering words. The desire to say
words overcame him and he said words without meaning, rolling them over
on his tongue and saying them because they were brave words, full of
meaning. “Death,” he muttered, “night, the sea, fear, loveliness.”
George Willard came out of the vacant lot and stood again on the
sidewalk facing the houses. He felt that all of the people in the
little street must be brothers and sisters to him and he wished he had
the courage to call them out of their houses and to shake their hands.
“If there were only a woman here I would take hold of her hand and we
would run until we were both tired out,” he thought. “That would make
me feel better.” With the thought of a woman in his mind he walked out
of the street and went toward the house where Belle Carpenter lived. He
thought she would understand his mood and that he could achieve in her
presence a position he had long been wanting to achieve. In the past
when he had been with her and had kissed her lips he had come away
filled with anger at himself. He had felt like one being used for some
obscure purpose and had not enjoyed the feeling. Now he thought he had
suddenly become too big to be used.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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