Addendum to Learning from Michael Martone

I've "done my homework" since my post called Learning from Michael Martone. Well, a little homework. I've been enjoying Michael's posts on Facebook, although he moves a lot faster there than I do, like one of those swimmers in the fast lane that I notice from time to time as I do my leisurely laps.

During his reading at the 2014 Writers at Work conference, he read excerpts from several different distinctly personal genres, including his 25-word flash fictions (with titles that are not bound by the word limit). The July 2014 issue of elsewhere features a sample of these. Go ahead and follow the link--it's a quick read.

I mentioned the book Four for a Quarter in my previous post as well and now can provide a link to further information. That book is from 2011.

A few days ago, I finished reading The Blue Guide to Indiana, which was the only Michael Martone title left at the conference book table by the time I brought my wallet. Exploiting the possibilities of the expert guidebook authorial voice, this book offers detailed (nearly always fanciful and/or prepostrous) information about travel in Indiana and the sights to be seen. The voice reminds me in its formality and broad reach of topic and vocabulary of another Indianan's--David Foster Wallace. Wallace's obscure Latinate words and infinite sentence structures make him sound like a voice from another world. Michael Martone's syntax in The Blue Guide makes heavy use of nouns and noun phrases, often unusual ones, giving it a quality of Adamic naming.

In the chapter called Practical Information, there's a section on Inoculations and Required Vaccines. I've used italics to highlight a few such (extended) noun phrases (21):

Inoculations and Required Vaccines

Indiana has one living American Elm tree. It is preserved in a specially constructed arboretum on Elm Street in Elmsville. Consequently, the state requires visitors to provide documentation attesting to inoculation against the Dutch Elm Disease. The state parasite is ringworm, which is, as ringworm is a fungus, also the state fungus. Thus ringworm is a protected species as is its habitat. As of August 1955, the state has suffered an outbreak of hepatitis H which requires the wearing of plastic gloves by everyone at all times except when eating. Allergies to latex and PVC gloves are pandemic. Most municipal water supplies have been treated with fluoride as have all sources of Eucharist bread and wafers. The vaccine to ward off crying is suggested for those planning to visit Indiana, as are boosters to prevent dreaming and whistling.

I offer that excerpt as a sample, wondering just how such a text comes into being. Perhaps the starting point is Dutch Elm Disease, leading to ringworm being both a parasite and a fungus, leading to plastic gloves and fluoride, and the ultimate lift-off from reality into the vaccine to ward of crying. The final note about boosters to prevent dreaming and whistling takes us into a realm of something purely funny--the idea of vaccines and boosters for these conditions. But there's an ominousness, too, that these activities could be liabilities for the visitor to Indiana. [Coincident to drafting this section, I blogposted about pansies and China and deadheading and the trolley swing in my grandparents' backyard. I believe there was some Martonian influence.]

The second section I want to discuss comes from the chapter called "A Parade of Homes." This subsection called out to me for a number of reasons, and I will copy its one longish paragraph in its entirety here. (96-97)

The Bill Blass BirthplaceFort Wayne

A plaque next to the front door of this modest bungalow attests to the fact that Bill Blass (one of this nation's premier designers and clothing manufacturers) was born in the back bedroom attended only by a midwife who performed an episiotomy (a result of a breech presentation), the stitching of which was the earliest memory of the newborn sartorial star. Stories are still told of his prodigious talent designing and sewing much of his own layette once he dismissed the prenatal collection of gowns and onesies as uncomfortable, impractical, and out of date. By two, with the aid of an apparatus for reaching the foot treadle of his mother's Singer (preserved and displayed at the birthplace), Bill, as he was known by the neighborhood, had already established a thriving custom alteration business, independently contracting tailoring services with the Patterson Fletcher Department Store downtown, as well as providing most of the south side of the city with coordinating window treatments, still evident to this day, in what would become his signature palette of colors and fabric. In high school, Blass provided the school mascot, the Archer, with an entire trousseau of tunics, hosiery, caps, capes and codpieces, along with the matching accessories of bow, arrow, and quiver. Examples of all this early work are represented in the birthplace's holdings, including the entire portfolio of drawings rendered for his junior prom, providing the evening ensemble for the entire class cotillion. Also on dispaly at the birthplace, Blass-designed wallpapers, wall paint, carpet, area rugs, upholstery, toweling, napkins, flatware, perfume and toiletries, belt buckles, basketball uniforms and shoes, sunglasses, shoes, underwear, shower curtains, and stationery, examples of which are all available for purchase in the gift shop. An additional ticket is required to view the 1974 Ford LTD in navy blue pearl coat and taupe leather trim which is parked on the adjacent lot. The birthplace also possesses the most complete collection of timetables for the midwestern lines and routes of the Pennsylvania Railroad, a hobby of the young Bill Blass, which he passionately maintained and added to, up until the very moment of his own departure for New York City, on the Broadway Limited, the day after he graduate from South Side High School.

Why this passage? For one, Bill Blass is part of the cultural fabric of my lifetime. I remember a label of back to back Bs. For another, try saying Bill Blass several times in a row and not ending up with Blill Bass. The flow of the paragraph from episiotomy to sewing machine to window treatments to "trousseau of tunics, hosiery, caps, capes and codpieces" to "blue pearl coat and taupe leather trim" delights me. Most of all, the collection railway timetables (railroad history being a recurrent and intriguing topic throughout the Guide) leads like a jet on a runway to the departure of Bill Blass from Fort Wayne, the moment he was free to leave.

That is the sort of fun you can have with The Blue Guide to Indiana.