Change by Larry Woiwode

First published: 1980

Type of plot: Domestic realism

Time of work: 1979

Locale: Chicago

Principal Characters:

  • The husband
  • His wife
  • Their eight-year-old daughter
  • Their infant son
  • Bob and Betty, their neighbors
  • "the boys", of Bob and Betty

The Story

Through recall, Larry Woiwode engages in a discursive examination of two households, particularly the home of the narrator, for a period of about six months, from April to fall.

A glowing doorknob, with its paint and grime removed in the spring, is a reminder to the narrator of the time and energy expended on it before it began to shine "like a miniature burnished sun." With the door swung against the left end of the table at which he is now sitting and "walling" him in "somewhat on one open side," the knob still shines "above the edge" of his vision in the room in a ramshackle apartment house.

It is fall now, and the narrator is at work on transcribing notes that—or so he believes at times—will be an "indisputable proof of the existence of God." These notes range over a thirteen-year period during which he has had "different opinions or interpretations of their meaning during different recastings of them." He especially desires to leave the events, not of his making, free of "subjective coloring." This new work is a "stock-taking interim."

Now "walled-in" at the table, the narrator begins to recall the effects of bolts of lightning striking twice at the apartment house. Following the first bolt, he recalls, he simply sat at the table, feeling guilty about not being able to get at the work he set for himself. Picking up a glossy magazine, he read an article on guerrilla warfare in Palestine. The account of the violence and of bystanders being injured by bombs merely sharpened the guilt he does not wish to examine.

The next bolt came within a matter of months; a week or two later, he saw a troubling cartoon in the same glossy magazine: "a pair of angels on a cloud, looking over its edge, one of them with a bunch of jagged cartoon thunderbolts under an arm, and had a caption that went something like 'Get him again!'" The bolts meant external change, at least for the "upper limbs" of the oak tree in his yard.

In the time covered by these recollections, the narrator's wife gave birth to their first son "right there in the apartment house." Soon, the baby son changes from an "indrawn center of internal listening" to a freer human being, grasping and grabbing at objects. Then, he begins to laugh, freely and heartily, especially when he plays "games" with his parents and eight-year-old sister. What is particularly thrilling is the happy occasion when the family is together in the same room and his mother lifts him up to the mirror, in which he sees the various angles from which he can view the family. When the sister gives the child a playful scare, he bursts out in such laughter that the father is amazed, unable to believe that a child of his can laugh with such "seizure of freedom."

The daughter, too, can shriek with hilarity, particularly at the father and the baby having one of "their talks," but she can change from apparent happiness to what seems to be jealousy as she silently observes in a detached manner her little brother as though each were in an "isolated room."

The work and play of most members of the household mount. The mother moves from chore to chore every hour of the day. The daughter is transformed when she pretends to be an adult, replacing her own clothes with the clothing of her mother and father. The parents know that there will be another change: Someday they will be abandoned, just as the clothes are: "seldom picked up, left lying where they have been discarded." There is yet another change that come with these foreshadowings of adolescence: At times there is a "pained evasiveness" about the daughter that causes the narrator to think of "the boys" next door.

These three boys are reminders of "the unendingness of violence." Whether they throw eggs or tomatoes at their neighbors' windows or dirt at their daughter, set the walls of the garage on fire, or beat up one another, one of their chief characteristics is violence. The father of the boys is "a huge, unsmiling man" with a flattop; conjecturing that the man saw action in Korea, the narrator pauses in his musings to wonder how many of the men he passes on the street have been trained to kill.

The narrator's family closes itself in and keeps to itself. They study with a pastor, attend a Reformed and Presbyterian chapel, make public confession of Christ, and have their son baptized. They pray, in general, for the other family, but they also begin to ignore it.

One night, the disturbed mother of the boys phones her neighbors and urges the narrator to check on "what those kids are up to" down in his basement. The phone call is an implicit admission that the boys are out of control; it is also, more fundamentally, a cry for help, to which the narrator does not respond. The woman's husband leaves her soon after, only to return a "few nights later"—at the request of a social worker and the police—"to settle some matters." While he is there, Betty, the distressed woman, attempts to cut her wrists.

Another change comes. The mother is in a hospital under psychiatric care; the father comes back to live with the boys. The narrator tries to visit the woman, but only family can see her. He gives the boys a copy of the Gospel of John to give her, and intends to mention "the gift of Christ and the grace of God" but is unable to follow his intentions. Finally, the boys move away, and a bulldozer levels the old house next door, bringing yet another change. A parking lot begins to take shape.

It is now cool again. The thermostat needs adjusting, but the narrator desires no change in his position in order to make the adjustment. After all, he must not move until "a certain amount of work is fixed" in his files "for good."

The doorknob still glows, mirroring the narrator. He sees as he looks up at it "a meditative kingbolt," and he asks the question: "Which side do you open a door from if the door's never really closed, but more a wall that holds you inward?" The season has changed from spring to fall, and there are no fingerprints on the glowing knob.

Bibliography

Connaughton, Michael E. "Larry Woiwode." In American Novelists Since World War II, edited by James E. Kibler, Jr. Detroit: Gale Research, 1980.

Dickson, Morris. "Flight into Symbolism." The New Republic 160 (May 3, 1969): 28.

Gardner, John. Review of Beyond the Bedroom Wall, by Larry Woiwode. The New York Times Book Review 125 (September 28, 1975): 1-2.

Gasque, W. Ward. Review of Acts, by Larry Woiwode. Christianity Today, March 7, 1994, 38.

Marx, Paul. "Larry (Alfred) Woiwode." In Contemporary Novelists, edited by James Vinson. 3d ed. New York: St. Martin's Press, 1982.

O'Hara, Barbara. Review of What I Think I Did, by Larry Woiwode. Library Journal, June 1, 2000, 128.

Pesetsky, Bette. Review of Born Brothers, by Larry Woiwode. The New York Times Book Review 93 (August 4, 1988): 13-14.

Prescott, Peter S. "Home Truths." Newsweek 86 (September 29, 1975): 85-86.

Woiwode, Larry. "An Interview with Larry Woiwode." Christianity and Literature 29 (1979): 11-18.

Woiwode, Larry. "An Interview with Larry Woiwode." Interview by Ed Block, Jr. Renascence: Essays on Values in Literature 44, no. 1 (Fall, 1991): 17-30.

Woiwode, Larry. "Interview with Woiwode." Interview by Shirley Nelson. The Christian Century, January 25, 1995, 82.

Woiwode, Larry. "Where the Buffalo Roam: An Interview with Larry Woiwode." Interview by Rick Watson. North Dakota Quarterly 63, no. 4 (Fall, 1996): 154-166.