Moo

 

Jane Smiley won the Pulitzer Prize in 1992 for her tragic novel, A Thousand Acres. Moo is the next novel she wrote, and one I remember liking when I read it in the 90s. 

At first, the first sentence of Moo is a little daunting. It takes a long breath to read it, it has clauses and the formal, academic word "hegemony" in it, and there are no commas or dashes to allow a break or guide us to organizing the meaning: "From the outside it was clear that the building known generally as 'Old Meats' had eased under the hegemony of the horticulture department." I would probably punctuate it like this: "From the outside, it was clear that the building – known generally as “Old Meats” – had eased under the hegemony of the horticulture department."

The lack of internal punctuation gives this an academic flavor. So do the words "horticulture department." 

Then there's the curious structure. The basic English sentence needs an actor and an action: Anna reads. Anna is a person, capable of taking action. Reads is an action that Anna does. This sentence buries the actor and the action. The core of the sentence is "building ... had eased" – what? This is as if buildings had the will to take action, and the freedom to choose whether to slouch or to stride into that action. There's a hidden actor here – who brought the building, bit by bit, under the control of the horticulture department? 

Hiding the actor is also a feature of academic writing, although Smiley does it more subtly here than the more common use of passive tense. (Here's an example of passive tense: "The book was read by Anna." It displaces the person – Anna – to make the object – the book – seem the actor instead. The form "was ... by" is the most obvious version. Omitting the "by" part makes these a little harder to spot, as in the odious "Mistakes were made." By whom? Someone who doesn't want to admit it.) 

In this sentence, it is hard to tell who made the choices or who takes responsibility. "From the outside" suggests someone looking at the building, but who? The next phrase, "it was clear" again omits who is finding this clear. 

Look at "known generally" – once again, exactly who knows this remains fuzzy. 

How about that word "hegemony"? It means influence or control, with a nuance of one nation pressuring others to bow to them. "Under the hegemony of" is a phrase we use to describe small nations who always support the policies of the larger nation they border. "Had eased" is a tonal mismatch with "hegemony," as if the building had gratefully snuck into the shelter of the nearby, more heavily armed, "horticulture department." The word "hegemony" implies that the horticulture department – which studies plants, a relatively peaceful field  – is a belligerent conqueror of academic buildings, if not more. 

The contrast between "hegemony" and "horticulture" creates a bit of absurdity. They have similar forms – both starting with the letter "h" and both having four syllables – which emphasizes the contrast in their meanings.

Now the sentence begins to yield its secrets. Its academic form hides a war waged with plants. Smiley is taking the format of staid university writing to exercise dry wit on its papered-over conflicts. One more stroke points at her restrained humor: the words "Old Meats," so short and direct, in the middle of these long, evasive phrases. That's another break in tone which a purely serious author would avoid.

This sentence feels like a pecan to me. The smooth, hard surface holds a more complex and delicious interior. Moo's first sentence suits the entire book – it will appeal the most to readers who like dry wit,  know academia well enough to enjoy Smiley's tale of its absurdities, and are willing to dig a little to find the meaning. 

Photo by Angela Newman on Unsplash

Graphic elements by Ken Silbert