Another annotation from the MFA/CW work at Goddard:Tiny Bricks Build an Exquisite Structure: The Effects of Teensy Chapters in Evan S. Connell’s “Mrs. Bridge”Writers use lots of words. Sometimes too many. What a contrast, what a pleasure and relief, to read the work of Evan S. Connell in “Mrs. Bridge,” built as it is with the tiniest of bricks -- microchapters of anything from a few paragraphs to a few pages, at most -- each of which is as exquisite as a good joke or a tight poem.The format of tiny chapters serves to render these surgical slices of Mrs. Bridge’s life without the need for extended exposition or authorial commentary. Each scene delivered in Connell’s microchapters presents so few elements that the elements that do make it into a given chapter shine upon each other with deep resonance, much as the elements in a poem or a joke, thanks in great part to their close proximity. The resonance builds fast in such tight quarters, with the result that the final line of each microchapter is typically either funny or heart-wrenching or both. Take, for example, Chapter 30, “The Search for Love,” in which Mrs. Bridge acts out of character: She requests a declaration of love from Mr. Bridge. Unsurprisingly, what she gets is a grunt. When she becomes embarrassed and shifts in her seat, she accidentally trips the buzzer for the maid, Harriet, who “appeared in the doorway to see what it was that Mrs. Bridge desired.” (69)Harriet’s appearance is nothing out of the ordinary, and Connell’s description of it would be banal if it weren’t for the fact that in the tight confines of this microchapter, the only elements we’re given are 1) Mrs. Bridge’s “terrifying, inarticulate need” (68) to be desired, 2) a symbolic wedge created by her own hands in the form of the floral centerpiece that separates her from her husband, and 3) his own utter lack of acknowledgement of her need. Were these elements to be spread out across the span of a longer chapter length, it’s easy to envision them becoming diluted. Yet in the confines of Connell’s microchapter, the banality of Harriet appearing to see what her mistress wants is pathetic and ironic. Mrs. Bridge wants something desperately, yet she can’t get it from Harriett, the person whose sole function is to cater to the family’s needs. The simple banality of Harriett showing up to ask what Mrs. Bridge wants throbs with heartache because its description comes as the tail end of a terse selection of important elements. It reverberates in importance because it is one of the few things allowed to appear in the chapter. Another of many examples of a terminal line reverberating with heartache in the cage of a microchapter is found in Chapter 69, “Non Capisco.” In this chapter, only two things happen: Mr. and Mrs. Bridge visit Ruth before departing for their European vacation, and Mrs. Bridge encounters a woman in “vast despair” who cannot speak English. Again Connell structures a microchapter that stacks a narratively important scene -- i.e., a brief glimpse of mother-daughter unhappiness -- with an everyday scene of no major consequence, and concludes with a line that reverberates with sadness: “‘I’m awfully sorry,’ Mrs. Bridge said helplessly. ‘I wish I knew what to do, but I just don’t understand.’” (149) What is there that’s remarkable about this last line? Nothing, on the surface. It would seem trivial were it located at the end of a long chapter with other elements separating it from the image of Mrs. Bridge, baffled at her estranged daughter, Ruth, who has just turned on her mother “a look of implacable defiance.” (149) Because the two encounters are juxtaposed so closely in this microchapter, we have a seemingly irrelevant encounter able to illuminate the sadness of the far more important element: Mrs. Bridge’s inability to understand Ruth’s antipathy. When they’re not heartbreaking, Connell’s terminal chapter lines are funny. He sets the tone for his funny microchapters as early as Chapter 2, “Children,” which wraps up the telling of Mrs. and Mr. Bridge’s child-bearing strategy with the conclusion that “Even if the third had also been a girl they would have let it go at that; there would have been no sense in continuing what would soon become amusing to other people.” (3) This line accomplishes its funniness in a few ways: First, it characterizes Mr. and Mrs. Bridge as a couple so adverse to nonconformity that they would allow even such a momentous decision as childbearing to be influenced by others. The primness of this sentiment in this context is so startling that it’s funny. The funniness of the terminal line also relies on the brevity of this three-paragraph chapter; we’re conditioned to expect a punch line at the end of such a short passage, and Connell doesn’t disappoint. This is not to say that Connell isn’t funny when he’s heartbreaking or heartbreaking when he’s funny. Chapter 76, “Telegram,” is a prime, two-paragraph example of heartbreaking wit. After receiving a surreal, imaginative telegraph from Douglas congratulating Mrs. and Mr. Bridge on their “MEMORABLE OCCASION AND IN BEHALF ENTIRE COMPANY EXPRESS HOPE YOUR CONTINUED SUCCESS,” (163) a la the stereotypical butchered English of a fortune cookie, Mrs. Bridge thanks him for the telegram but misses the joke entirely: “... I do think the American Express company must have gotten their messages mixed up...” (163) Do we laugh or cry at her cluelessness? We do both, throughout the book, grateful for the rhythm set up by this gifted mosaicist who, to steal from e.e. cummings, rattles like angry candy within the boxes of these exquisite microchapters.
If you’re like me, there may be certain privileged disenchanted types you feel like telling, “Get a real problem!” I thought for a while Mrs. Bridge would qualify for that kind of reproach. She had a comfortable life at a time when many did not, she had few responsibilities, and the status quo, such as she perceived it, suited her fine. Whence the angst, then? Reading on, we see from where very clearly. I was no longer tempted to say her problems weren’t real. Thanks to Connell’s many revealing vignettes, everything about her rang true.Mrs. Bridge and her husband, a successful lawyer who worked long hours at the office, lived in Kansas City with their two daughters and younger son. The time period covered the twenties up to WWII. During much of this time, of course, the country was in The Great Depression, but you wouldn’t know it by them. Her Lincoln, laundry, kitchen and home were well-tended. At first I viewed her as a kind of numeraire -- a God-fearing Midwestern middlebrow against whom the differing attitudes of the day and quirks of other characters could be measured. Then, as more tiles in the mosaic were put in place (117 short chapters), I found that her own nuanced profile had emerged. It wasn’t always one we could admire, but it was one we could understand. She was a recognizable product of human nature and the times.There are so many examples of Connell’s brilliant character bites that it’s difficult to come up with a representative few that can illustrate. These tidbits did not constitute a plot, but they were interesting enough in their own right to keep the narrative lively. Characters other than Mrs. Bridge were profiled, too, including her family, servants and friends. We’re reminded of the state of race relations (“knowing one’s place” in essence) and the role of many housewives in the pre-feminist era (deferring to the husband in most every way). Mrs. Bridge was the most fully drawn, of course. (Mr. Bridge got his chance in a follow-up book Connell published 10 years later.) She was » not one to speak her mind if it could be construed as poor manners to do so» a careful student of appearances» innately suspicious of change» friends with a woman who liked arts and books, but could never seem to follow through with her own self-improvements (Spanish lessons curtailed after chapter 1, her short-lived political awareness campaign yielded the way to Mr. Bridge’s pronouncements, and books were often abandoned)» progressively less successful imparting her old values to the new generation of BridgesWhile it was not always easy to like Mrs. Bridge, it was no leap at all to feel sorry for her. As her children grew independent, she had very little to do. Companionship from her husband was minimal. And the purposelessness she felt really stung. To sum it all up, Connell’s last short chapter presented the perfect ending: (view spoiler)[Mrs. Bridge was pulling her Lincoln out of the garage when the engine died. Her door was right up against the side of the garage and the other doors were obstructed, too. She was trapped, with no clue of how to get out. Would anyone hear her cries for help? If so, when? (hide spoiler)]
Do You like book Mrs. Bridge (1990)?
Mrs. Bridge is a woman who doesn't think too deeply about what she wants. Told in vignettes, her story focuses on her relationships with others- her husband, her children, her friends, and her servants. A sense of despair follows her through her boring days and she doesn't have any inkling on how to make any changes. A rather depressing read but it kept me turning the pages if only to hope that one day she'd find happiness. But even though she professed that her greatest happiness occurred when her marriage was young and her children were little, the reader never witnesses these moments. I thought when her grandchild was born perhaps she'd find some joy but she never even mentions if the child is a boy or a girl. A rather mystifying read.
—Sherry
I can't for the life of me figure out what makes this novel so great, but damn it is great. I wish I knew why.You might protest and cry, "Oh but I have already read so many novels about repressed twentieth-century housewives!" But that is like being offered a plate of chocolate chip cookies and saying, "No thank you. I've tried those before."Chocolate chip cookies are delicious and aren't less so for being frequently baked. And anyway, you haven't had a cookie quite like this one before.Told in a series of 117 titled vignettes, Mrs. Bridge is the story of an affluent woman living in 1930s-ish Kansas City. In a weird way what it reminded me of was Less Than Zero, just in the sense that yes, rich housewives are easy targets in the same way that stoned spoiled LA teenagers are. But both books, for me, really start when you realize that they're not just talking about their subjects, and that what you thought was the floor is actually a flimsy false bottom covering that yawning abyss on the brink of which we all cravenly teeter.The difference, of course, is that this is an infinitely better book by an immensely gifted writer who possesses heart, nerve, and brains. Really curious to read more by Evan S. Connell; looks like he's written a bunch of crazy looking shit since this came out in the fifties, and still at it! Not sure if I'm as interested in Mr. Bridge as some of his more different stuff. Any thoughts from those who know? The Custer book looks pretty cool...
—Jessica
Well this may be another case of being so mad at the character's life, that I think I didn't like the book much, when I guess the fact that it made me so mad (and depressed, and sad) probably means it was very effective. I realize it's not realistic to expect her to have changed in SOME way by the end of the novel...but I was hoping Mrs. Bridge would take a second step after any of her teentsy tiny motions towards liberation, thought, self-expression, anything! But nope. Just thankful to live in 2012.....and thanks for the book, Di!
—Julie M
