Ralph Part Two

Last time, I stopped in the midst of discussing Frederick Busch’s short story Ralph the Duck, writing in particular about how Busch doesn’t explain everything in the story. He leaves certain points to the reader to make meaning of, and, I argued, this enhances the experience, making it more respectful and collaborative. This time, let’s examine in particular best beloved, pacing.

What does Mr. AI say? “In literature, pacing refers to the speed at which a story unfolds, essentially how quickly or slowly the events and information are presented to the reader. It's a crucial element that influences reader engagement, tension, and overall enjoyment. Effective pacing creates a rhythm that keeps readers turning the pages, while poor pacing can lead to disengagement or frustration.” 

In the first part of the story, Busch uses a combination of dramatic scenes and narrative summary to establish the characters, who then, in the second half, are put into a situation. One of the differences between the two halves is how time is handled, or pacing.

The story begins with a dramatic scene that lasts less than an hour. The narrator wakes at 5:25, gets up, goes back to bed, and things end just after the alarm goes off at 6:00. The period between 5:29 and 6:00 is collapsed; there’s no moment-to-moment narration.

The next section is a combination of summary and scene.  The narrator explains his job and that he takes a class every term. The character of his professor is introduced, and the section moves into a dramatic scene that shows the narrator jump starting the professor’s car, and the professor asking mocking questions about the narrator having been in Vietnam. The summary part isn’t “in-time” the way a scene would be; the scene has a slightly imperfect feel, meaning it seems like a situation chosen as an example of the kinds of interactions with the professor that might occur repeatedly. The narrator says, “One time…when I jumped his Buick from my Bronco…” and, describing the professor, “He was always talking to the female students with the brightest hair and best builds.” Here, the use of the expression “One time,” and the word “always,” are tip offs as to the presence of imperfect time.

Then we have a scene that involves the narrator falling asleep, waking, and having a memory which is shown in a dramatic scene. Except for the sleep interval, the scene occurs quickly, maybe showing a half hour. But a lot is collapsed here, meaning sentences jump ahead in time. There’s no moment-to moment accounting. Fanny leaves the narrator some food, the dog watches him eat it and make himself a drink. In real time, that sequence might take 20-30 minutes; in the story, it’s two sentences.

There follows several dramatic scenes, including the one in which the narrator describes Ralph the Duck, which is a description; it’s not expressed in scene and/or dialogue. Considerable time is not shown between these scenes. The implied author selects what seems important to drive the story along. In this sequence of scenes showing the narrator writing and submitting Ralph the Duck and receiving a D from the professor, there’s nothing about meals he ate, other people he talked to, other memories he had.

This brings us to the section beginning, “It was the worst of the winter’s storms…” Here we have a dramatic scene that unfolds in nearly real time, i.e. with few unnarrated gaps. The narrator is called on an emergency to find a young woman who has left her dorm after taking many pills. He finds her on a rocky ledge, about to suicide, and tries to persuade her to come with him to safety, eventually picking her up and carrying her to his truck. He then drives her through the storm to the hospital.

“We passed the cemetery. I told her that was a good sign. She didn’t respond.”

He calls ahead to the hospital. “I made myself slow down some, and I said we’d need stomach pumping, and to get the names of the pills from her friends in the dorm and I’d be there in less than five or we were crumpled up someplace and dead.  ‘Roger,’ the radio said. ‘Roger all that.’ My throat tightened and tears came into my eyes. They were helping us. They’d told me: Roger.”

The pacing changes here. There’s plenty of room in this section for time to be collapsed, but it isn’t. Moment-to-moment narration, and this continues till they arrive at the hospital.

The story ends with a scene occurring on the following (probably) day and it reverts to the previous pacing—time gets collapsed. The narrator is at home and talking about saving the young woman with Fanny, who is somewhat annoyed that her husband risked his life. Things end with Fanny telling the narrator to get the professor to “jack up” the grade on Ralph the Duck, as the professor is obligated to him for saving the young woman who was his lover.

There’s more to this great story. The narrator tells the young woman about the loss of his daughter and maybe acknowledges his Vietnam experiences—that part is another aspect of the story left open to the reader. And for me, there’s that curious mention of how it “would have” taken the narrator fifteen years to graduate, as if he never does. But that’s not addressed. It’s clear that the narrator is placed into a dramatic situation where his past experience resonates strongly. He is determined to save the young woman because he could not save his daughter. He and Fanny have been stuck in grief but maybe there's hope.

What’s the point, Walter? (Big Lebowski reference).

The point is that Busch uses varied pacing in this story as another way to heighten drama and create a dense narrative web. It’s another way to not show everything that occurs, and this idea connects to Umberto Eco who wrote that it’s only in pornographic films (I wouldn’t know), that moment-to-moment time is consistently presented. If a character in such a film gets a soda from the refrigerator, you see her or him walking to the refrigerator, grasping the handle, etc. You see it all. Not in Ralph the Duck.

Till next time, Walter.

#RalphTheDuck #FrederickBusch #AlanBray