Talking

I read Talking It Over by Julian Barnes on planes this weekend. It is the same story told from the perspectives of the three characters involved. It, as literature tends to, revolves around fidelities and infidelities and pain and things changing. It was agony. I think it resulted in the many nightmares I had while in Chicago.

There were two points I found particularly interesting.

The first was located during one of the male character's accounts. He said that people are part of one of two groups - entertainers and audience. He said that members of the audience don't appreciate how hard it is for the entertainers to entertain. He said that it broke his heart a bit when he couldn't make his wife laugh, and how he resented her since she had no idea how difficult it is to entertain.

I had two thoughts about this:

1. Does it break D's heart when I don't laugh at his jokes? (a rare occasion) Sometimes he tries too hard, and trying to me is not funny. Natural and witty humor is, to me, the best kind. I think D is really, really, obscenely, wonderfully funny. This is one of the things I love most about him. I love that he is silly. He once asked "Do you still think I'm funny? It seems like you don't anymore." I said "I don't think you're as funny when you try to be. I think you're funny when you're not rehearsed. When you're just being yourself." "You probably, then, don't support my stand-up comedy aspirations." "I do," I said, "Because I support you and everything you want to do. I just don't always, well, support people who want to be noticed."

2. Which brings me to the second part. If the entertainer has chosen to entertain, or the entertainer so desperately wants to be noticed, why is he/she being a martyr about it? Those of us in the audience are perfectly fine being here, disappearing into the masses, not being seen. There's no reason entertainers have to entertain, other than their needing some sort of affirmation from the rest of the world. I guess, then, that's sort of sad, and maybe what the character meant was that it's hard for him to get his worth from the reaction of his wife?

I don't know. I love funny people. People in the audience are drawn to this sort of person because we are not funny, we are not noticed, and we are in awe that people can possess this sort of desireable personality. Most of my friends are clever, witty, effortlessly hilarious people. I just don't want to be responsible for someone's self esteem that is based on joke-telling ability. Not that I think D's feelings are hurt. And I pretty much always laugh. But the book got me to thinking - is he being funny for me?

Point the second: the female character discusses love, and said that there is being loved (which is secure and fabulous) and there is being adored (which is passionate and being truly known and being truly understood). Passion can never last, but it is so hard to walk away from.

I wrestle with this. I am a person that has given into passion and I have to admit that it was the most wonderful thing. I miss it, often want it again, and know I'm never going to have it again. I know that this is the right thing, though, because I know that it only results in disaster, heartbreak, and utter ruin.

Which is why the Joeys will always end up with the Paceys of the world, because ultimately safe love is what can be sustained.