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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