Leslie in California / by Andre Dubus. Dubus, Andre, (Author). General Note: “This copy of Leslie in California is number 87 in an edition limited to. mar Leslie in California Introduction The short story “Leslie in California”, is written by Andre Dubus in The short story “Leslie in California” is. ANDRE DUBUS’S fourth collection of short stories derives its title from a In ” Leslie in California” a young wife broods over the fact that her.

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I get drunk like that, and somebody crazy takes over. That was in October, after we got married on a fishing boat, on a clear blue Sunday on the Atlantic.

The Art of Reading Andre Dubus: We Don’t Have to Live Great Lives | Poets & Writers

He waves and grins and gets in. The first time I met Dubus III in person, he told me about the unexpected way his father had influenced his art. While many writers have written about the American family, few have written dubux well as Dubus from every point of view within the American family. We took turns driving and sleeping and only had to spend motel money twice.

Such a plot could easily become soap opera, but with his plain language and astute characterization Dubus weaves a tale that leaves the reader feeling, if not affection, then at least empathy for every member of the family. From there I look at the back of his head. You are commenting aclifornia your Twitter account. I hold my hand up at the car as they back into the road, then are gone downhill past the house.

The bacon is curling brown.

I open the screen and look up the road as far as I can see, before it curves around a hill in the sun. They provide counsel for the heart. Birds are singing, or whatever it is they do. Drawing conclusions is up to the jury, that is, the readers.


It is not only his devotion to the short story form that earned him comparisons to his beloved Chekhov, but his boundless capacity for compassion. It is a chilling revelation. Jump to navigation Skip to content.

Yet he did so at great sacrifice: Overwhelmed and in continual pain, he slipped into a dark depression and, for a time, struggled to write fiction. I turn the bacon. Dubus slowly regained his confidence by writing essays and through the support he received from the writers who gathered every Thursday night at his house.

The Art of Reading Andre Dubus: We Don’t Have to Live Great Lives

In the story, two men follow LuAnn Arceneaux home from the grocery store and force their way into leeslie kitchen. They are going out for sharks. The date was February 24, Later, LuAnn tells her husband how she is stunned by the violence she was capable of. My little sister took riding lessons in New England; I watched her compete, and I was afraid, she was so small on that big animal jumping.

While Dubus struggled to communicate with the Santiagos, usher the pair off the road, and flag down more help, an oncoming car traveling nearly sixty miles an hour struck Dubus and Luis. Dubus was thrown over the cars hood and landed in a crumpled, bleeding mass on the other side—alive aandre with thirty-four broken bones.

He comes to me and hugs me from behind, rubbing my hips through the robe, his breath sour beer with mint. I put on the bacon and smoke a cigarette, and when I hear him coming I stand at the stove so my back is to the door. Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: You are commenting using your Facebook account. I turn around and look up at him, and he steps back. Once, before I dubue him, he was in the water with a swordfish. Dubus describes in visceral language how LuAnn savagely defends herself against what is surely an attempted rape.

Each of his women is particular and unexpected, her moral and physical nature without a shadow of male fantasy or condescension. I sit in the bathroom where it is darkest, and the seat is cold. I lower my face from the ice; for awhile he stands cakifornia me, and I watch the eggs and listen to the grease and his breathing and the birds, then he goes to the chest and I hear the towel and ice drop in.


I light the gas lantern and set it near the stove, and remember New England mornings with the lights on and a warm kitchen and catching the school bus. Let me do something for that eye. By continuing to use this website, you agree to their use. Dubus lost his left leg below the knee and his right leg was crushed to the point of uselessness. The young man, only twenty-three, was killed instantly.

Leslie in California – NOBLE (All Libraries)

He pours two cups, takes his to the table, and sits with a cigarette. He gets out of bed, and still I smell beer in the cold air.

I could count them, know how many it takes. I put water on the stove and get bacon and eggs and milk from the ice chest. I hear him going to the ice chest, the ice moving in there to his big hands.

My only job is to be talented, that is, to know how to distinguish important testimony from unimportant, to place my characters in the proper light and speak their language. Dad was happy about us going to California; he talked about sourdough bread and fresh fruit and vegetables all year. He thanked me for thanking his dad. I go to his plate and scoop all the beans on his egg yellow.