Tuesday, May 7, 2013

Dear Mr. Bartleby, Scrivener


The last part of my Intro to the Short Story was to write a letter to an author of a story we had read, or a character from one of those stories.  I picked Bartleby the Scrivener, and you can read the whole story if you click here.  Enjoy!
 
 
Dear Mr. Bartleby, Scrivener,

            What on earth is your problem?  There is no need at all for you to be such a stubborn little fool.  The way of the world isn’t always your way, but does that mean you ought to just stop?  Of course not!  What kind of man are you?

            You don’t just keel over into an apathetic lump whenever you feel like it! 

            Perhaps you ought to seek ought help—from a psychiatrist.  After all, anhedonia is a symptom of depression (which is one of the only plausible explanations for your ridiculous behavior).  Anhedonia, being, of course, loss of interest in things you formerly found pleasurable, like copying down text or, well, living. 

            You clearly are suicidal at the end of the story, Mr. Bartleby, and for that, I recommend some time in an in-patient psychiatric ward.  Perhaps some group therapy.  There are numerous institutions at which to receive such services—though, perhaps, not in your time, but you have lingered on most irritatingly into the modern age, where help is available.

            I advise you, as a concerned and frustrated reader, to please seek out the help of a medical professional.  Lord knows it would be simply dreadful to lose such a vibrant and stimulating character from the bowels of literature.

            Perhaps you ought to reevaluate your life choices.  Stop squatting in your workplace after hours and buy a real house.  Find a job that isn’t so infernally dull, find a wife (if you can), or a pet.  Many people with boring lives invest in cats—many cats.  Fill your new house with cats, sir.

            After you have sought medical, or feline help for your instability, Mr. Bartleby, I advise you to contact your author, Mr. Melville, and have him write you into another story that isn’t quite as infuriating for readers.  I imagine a happy ending for you, sir, not some miserable starved suicide after a story that was as uneventful as brushing my teeth in the morning.  Perhaps Mr. Melville ought to put you in touch with Captain Ahab, as I understand his life is astronomically more exciting than yours.  Some adventure would do you good, Mr. Scrivener—it would get you out of that dreadful and congested city.  Fresh air, Mr. Bartleby!

            And a healthy dose of Zoloft.

            Or a smack in the face.  Since you are, after all, a character, you don’t really have an excuse to be so frustratingly dull and depressed.  You’re supposed to be interesting—if you aren’t then what on earth is the point of reading about you?

            Come to your senses, sir!  You have a duty to Mr. Melville and to your readership to be entertaining! 

 

Fondest Regards,

A Faithful Reader.

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