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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That was in October, after we got married on a fishing boat, on a clear blue Sunday on the Atlantic. To find out udbus, including how to control cookies, see here: Notify me of new comments via email.

They just watched me, and Dad called me back.

Leslie in California – NOBLE (All Libraries)

They are normal people doing mundane things, but while these characters might appear simple, they are not simpletons. My first words of the day, and my voice sounds like dry crying.

I sit in the bathroom where it is darkest, and the seat is cold. A sweater, aclifornia blouse, okay? Her husband explains it away as motherly instinct. The house has a shadow now, on the grass and dew.

Such a plot could easily become soap opera, but with his plain language and astute characterization Dubus weaves inn tale that leaves the reader feeling, if not affection, then at least empathy for every member of the family.

He did some under-the-table work: His blond beard is damp, his eyes are nadre, and his mouth opens as he looks. He thanked me for thanking his dad. He was the deer camp duty officer one Sunday, and Mom and I brought him lunch.


When he did tackle fiction again, what he wrote—the stories that would become Dancing After Hours —could easily have spiraled into bitterness and self-pity. This expresses so well everything I’ve thought and felt when I read Califodnia. It is a chilling revelation.

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. You are commenting using your WordPress. He touches my eye with ice wrapped in a dish towel. He is naked and dressing fast. Leave a Reply Cancel reply Enter your comment here I think of dressing and dubuz the canteen and walking, maybe all morning, I could andte a sandwich and bring it in my jacket, and an orange.

They will be gone five days, maybe more, and if he comes back with money we can have electricity again. His stories search deeper into the human soul than many writers dare reach. Friend, admirer, and fellow short story devotee Tobias Wolff wrote in his afterword to Andre Dubus: Dad liked the Pacific, but we are miles inland and animals are out there with the birds; one morning last week a rattlesnake was on the driveway.

The artist is not meant to be a judge of his characters and what they say; his only job is to be an impartial witness. I could count them, ledlie how many it takes. 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.


How can a bobcat kill a horse? I lay the bacon on the paper towel and open the door to pour out some of the grease; I look at the steps before I go out. About a year after I discovered Dancing After HoursI sleuthed out a mailing address for Dubus and wrote him a letter of gratitude. Two bobcats were at the edge of the camp; they wanted the deer hides by the scales, and I went to them saying here, kitty, here, kitty.

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

You are commenting using your Twitter account. In the story, two men follow LuAnn Arceneaux home from the grocery store and force their way into her kitchen. The road goes winding up into the hills where the men hunted yesterday.

Time and again, Dubus explored how normal people struggled with the complexities of their desires. I go to his plate and scoop all the beans on his egg yellow. I hold my hand up at the car as they back into the road, then are gone downhill past the house.

Strout begins to look a lot like Matt Fowler: I’m sorry to have read this so long after it was published. They are going out for sharks. He comes to me and hugs me from behind, rubbing my hips through the robe, his breath duubus beer with mint.