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____| E X C E R P T | ______mason & dixon BY THOMAS PYNCHON FICTION HENRY HOLT & COMPANY 773 PAGES ______=====> Snow-Balls have flown their Arcs, starr'd the Sides of Outbuildings, as of Cousins, carried Hats away into the brisk Wind of Delaware,-- the Sleds are brought in and their Runners carefully dried and greased, shoes deposited in the back Hall, a stocking'd-foot Descent made upon the great Kitchen, in a purposeful Dither since Morning, punctuated by the ringing Lids of various Boilers and Stewing-Pots, fragrant with pie-Spices, peel'd Fruits, Suet, heated Sugar,-- the Children, having all upon the Fly, among rhythmic slaps of Batter and Spoon, coax'd and stolen what they might, proceed, as upon each afternoon all this snowy Advent, to a comfortable Room at the rear of the House, years since given over to their carefree Assaults. Here have come to rest a long scarr'd sawbuck table, with two mismatch'd side-benches, from the Lancaster County branch of the family,-- some Second-Street Chippendale, including an interpretation of the fam'd Chinese Sofa, with a high canopy of years of purple Stuff that might be drawn all 'round to make a snug, dim tent,-- a few odd Chairs sent from England before the War,-- mostly Pine and Cherry about, nor much Mahogany, excepting a sinister and wonderful Card Table which exhibits the cheaper Wavelike Grain known in the Trade as Wand'ring Heart, causing an illusion of Depth into which for years children have gaz'd as into the illustrated Pages of Books ... along with so many hinges, sliding Mortises, hidden catches, and secret compartments that neither the Twins nor their Sister can say they have been to the end of it. Upon the Wall, banish'd to this Den of Parlor Apes for its Remembrance of a Time better forgotten, reflecting most of the Room,-- the Carpet and Drapes a little fray'd, Whiskers the Cat stalking beneath the furniture, looking out with eyes finely reflexive to anything suggesting Food,-- hangs a Mirror in an inscrib'd Frame, commemorating the "Mischianza," that memorable farewell Ball stag'd in '77 by the British who'd been Occupying the City just before their Withdrawal from Philadelphia. This Christmastide of 1786, with the War settl'd and the Nation bickering itself into Fragments, wounds bodily and ghostly, great and small, go aching on, not ev'ry one commemorated,-- nor, too often, even recounted. Snow lies upon all Philadelphia, from River to River, whose further shores have so vanish'd behind curtains of ice-fog that the City today might be an Isle upon an Ocean. Ponds and Creeks are frozen over, and the Trees a-glare to the last slightest Twig,-- Nerve-Lines of concentrated Light. Hammers and Saws have fallen still, bricks lie in snow-cover'd Heaps, City-Sparrows, in Speckl'd Outbursts, hop in and out of what Shelter there may be,-- the nightward Sky, Clouds blown to Chalk-smears, stretches above the Northern Liberties, Spring Garden and Germantown, its early moon pale as the Snow-Drifts,-- smoke ascends from Chimney-Pots, Sledging-Parties adjourn indoors, Taverns bustle,-- freshly infus'd Coffee flows ev'ryplace, borne about thro' Rooms front and back, whilst Madeira, which have ever fuel'd Association in these Parts, is deploy'd nowadays like an ancient Elixir upon the seething Pot of Politics,-- for the Times are as impossible to calculate, this Advent, as the Distance to a Star. SALON | Jan. 19, 1998 BACK TO THE SALON BOOK AWARDS INTRODUCTION