the man - a philosophical novel - chapter 1 includes notes

8/9/2019 The Man - A Philosophical Novel - Chapter 1 Includes Notes

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The Man

The f lame i s no t so b r igh t t o i t se l f as t o t hose on whom i t sh ines A philosophical Novel published chapter by chapter at www.shadowintheflame.com

Ric Vatner

Author

Chapter 1

The road into town was long, straight and dusty. The kind of road you knew wouldlead to no where special and the reward for arriving was less than his lowestexpectations.

Good.

He spat the word out though there was no one to hear it.

First order of business he thought, get some headache tablets. He had been driving fora long time. How long? He had no idea.

He found a chemist shop, entered and stood behind an Aboriginal woman who wasswearing at the chemist. She was wearing an old beanie, yellow with green stripsinterrupted with holes where a moth had carelessly eaten the line and part of the

yellow. Her jacket was an equally old and shabby track suit top that had once beencolourful but was now as faded as the jaded look on her face.

“I’ll get me money in a few days but she needs this shit now. Don’t be a bastard all

your life. You know she needs it”

Being a shopkeeper in a country town is not as straight forward as it is in the city.When the countryside has been in drought for years and the bank and the post office



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closed down yonks ago, they are the de facto bank, credit agency, Para-psychologist,social worker and when all else fails; whipping boy.

His face was ……….. impassive. He looked like he wasn’t really there. Where was he

right now?

On a beach? No, that’s not his style.

In the garden pulling weeds with a ferocity that he couldn’t bring to work? Maybe.

In the TAB (the ubiquitous betting shop) listening to his horse running a poor race asusual. It didn’t even have the grace to come last. Just one of the pack, like him,ordinary, average, never a winner but not a complete loser either.

“G’on you bastard, you couldn’t deliver milk on time” he would shout to no one inparticular. In the betting shop he is one of the boys, he doesn’t lose too much and healways has a funny quip to make when his horse loses. Yes this was his favouriteplace, the place he goes to in his mind.

The argument went back and forth and the man’s headache was pounding. He steppedforward, “excuse me”

“Piss off” she spat at him.

“Look maybe I can help”

“Oh yea of course. Who the fuck are you. The cops?”

“No” he said hurt. What’s the problem?” He looked at the chemist

“She already owes me more than the money she gets on benefits and now she wantsmore. I don’t get this stuff for free to distribute to the bloody community” he said. “Ihave to buy it and pay for it” he said looking at the woman.

“What does she want?” the man said

“Oh, morphine for pain, sleeping tablets, and some heavy shit that costs a fortune”

“Is it for her?”

“No, for her kid”

“Look I’ll pay for it” the man said as the woman looked at him suspiciously. “What doyou want?” she asked accusingly. “Like a bit of black do you?”

“No” he answered meekly.

“Oh, your a racist. Black not good enough for you your majesty” she made every worda dagger and threw them all at him with as much brutality as she could muster. Shehated the world and right now she hated the two of them the most.

The woman snatched the medicine from the chemist’s outstretched hand. She showed

no sign of gratitude. She needed it and they had it but they didn’t need it. Whyshouldn’t he pay for it? He’s white and haven’t they caused us black fellas enoughtrouble. He’s got the money to buy the stuff but he doesn’t need it. She needs it but

has no money. “It’s a shit world. If you don’t take what you can get, you don’t deserveit” that was her considered opinion.



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She walked out of the shop, her head high. She had got the drugs her daughterneeded. It was an unexpected win; you never get anything if you don’t try shethought. The woman, who could have been thirty but looked more like fifty headed

home. Along the way she wondered, would her daughter miss just one vial of themorphine? She deserved some too, wasn’t she hurting as well? Why shouldn’t shehave just one hit to help her cope.

The man turned to the chemist, “What’s wrong with her daughter?” he asked.

“Cancer” the chemist said. That one word tells the whole story, it is the one word inthe English language that is guaranteed to send shivers down your back. It speaks of

pain and terror, of sleepless nights and worry filled days. It recounts a tale of hopelessness, of going into battle with spears to fight an enemy that arrives in Planesand rides on tanks.

“How bad is it?” he asked. “Pretty bad. I’m surprised she is still alive. Sometimes Ithink she just hangs on so I go broke supplying her drugs” the chemist joked. “I don’t

want you to think I’m heartless but if I give in too easy, I’ll have the whole lot of ‘emin here demanding free drugs. I’m not the national health system you know”. He saiddefensively.

The man asked how much the drugs cost. He pulled out his credit card and told thechemist to bill the drugs to his card. He asked him not to tell the woman. “And don’tgo crazy with it, I’m not rich but whatever she really needs, just put it on this” hehanded the chemist his card.

The chemist shrugged, took down the details while the man swallowed a couple of headache tablets the chemist gave him and washed them down with a plastic cup of water. They looked at each other, no words passed between them but there was a

mutual understanding that from now on they shared the burden.

The man left without looking back.

He walked through the drab sun burnt town now descending into the cold dreary

months of winter. It was quite empty other than the shopkeepers, two drivers in thegarage getting petrol and some mothers pushing strollers aimlessly window shoppingand talking to their children who had already learned not to listen.

He felt hungry and seeing a supermarket he decided to buy some supplies. He did a

modest shopping and took it to the check out. “Do you take credit cards” he asked. “Sure” came the brief but not unfriendly reply. He handed his card over and waited.

“It’s declined” she said looking at him with a frown. “Do you have another one?” “No”

he replied almost dreamily. “Do you want to pay with cash?” she asked summing himup in her practiced way. “No not now, I’ll come back later”

He knew it wouldn’t take long but he had hoped the card would last a little longer.

He sighed. Looked for his car and when he saw it he walked towards it. For a few brief

seconds he had a sense of purpose, he knew where he was going but as soon as hearrived it disappeared and he felt emotionally drained.



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A Discussion of the Ideas Explored in Chapter 1

The reaction to “The Man” chapter 1 has been interesting and immediate. I havefielded a number of calls from friends who rang to discuss it. So I thought it might beworthwhile for our readers if we discuss some of the issues here on the web site.

I am a firm believer that the writer of a story is not necessarily the best interpreter of that story and certainly their view has no more credence than that of the reader. I

think writers often enter a zone where the story pretty much writes itself. I knowwhen I was writing this one, I was sometimes surprised to see where it went. For thatreason I hope you will share your views about what you get out of the story becauseyou may see things completely different to me.

I don’t mind telling you, when I was writing chapter three I cried like a baby whichwas quite embarrassing because I was at work. To make matters worse, I had a visitorwho thought I had just received some devastating news.

But we will get to chapter three soon enough. I look forward to hearing your reactionto it. I know, you already think I am just a big sop. A baby. Well I admit it!Interestingly the visitor who caught me crying over a silly piece of fiction told me that

as we get older we are more able to cry because we have experienced so much andwe feel things more.

So there is our first piece of philosophy. Don’t put all the oldies out to pasture tooquickly as the young turks may not have the emotional maturity to feel the situation.They may not be able to cry, for example over the injustice we see all around us, over

the refugees who get thrown into detention camps sometimes for years or for themillions of indigenous people that live in squalor usually on the very edge of our richcities.

Some of the people that have read all three chapters think that chapter one is theleast interesting of the three, but I don’t agree with that. I have tried to make each

chapter a stand alone story but also a part of the whole. It was not my intention toreveal everything about the man; I want him to unfold before us. I want to get toknow him as you do a friend, slowly and I want us to discover what he learns as helearns it.

I say us because as I said above, I think the story is to some degree writing itself andI am just as interested to see where it goes as I hope, you are.

The Man is not a true story but of course there are elements in it that are based ontrue life experience and it includes incidents that will help us understand philosophy or

the meaning of life. I think a good story can explain philosophy much better than anacademic treatise (I am not claiming that this is a good story that is for you todecide). I have read some great novels that have had a major impact on me, forexample;

The Power and the Glory by Graham Greene

Sons and Lovers by D.H Lawrence

The Great Women of China by Xinran (Not fiction but very powerful)

Sophie’s World by Jostein Gaarder

In chapter 1, we find out that the man has driven for a long time almost in a dreambecause he doesn’t know himself, how long he has been driving.

Is he on the run? If so what from?

In the chemist shop he buys the woman’s drugs but I didn’t feel that he did it withpassion or from any altruistic belief. It was almost mechanical. A sort of “Look, here isthe money, can we get on to me now!”

I found the Pharmacist interesting (We call them a chemist in Australia). He is MrAverage. He is the archetypical man next door who is not a loser but he is not a



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winner either. The interesting thing was that he lives in a town where Aboriginals aremost likely looked down on yet he has obviously been paying for the drugs the womanneeded for her daughter. And I got the feeling she was not the only one.

But he is not the type to want a park named after him, he is not a public philanthropistlike the ones that sit on the stage and pretend to be shy and retiring. He is a good

hearted quite man that does not think in terms of good deeds only in terms of whatneeds to be done. He probably doesn’t think of himself as a do gooder, in fact I think if you asked him to describe himself, he would say he was a soft touch, a fool who has

his vices. We know he likes to smoke and to bet, I know many fundamentalist religiouspeople that would scorn him for that and yet he is in many ways more honest, moregenuine than they are.

It is through the chemist that we first see that the man has a redeeming side to him. I

trust the chemist and he saw something in the man that I don’t think the man sees inhimself.

I was shocked when he went to the supermarket and his card was declined. My firstthought was, so how was he going to pay for the drugs? I felt he was going to let thechemist down and I was sorry for the chemist because I think it happens to him a lot.

But I also saw it as part of the chaos of the man’s life. I felt that he did not intend tolet the chemist down on purpose. He genuinely meant to pay for them.

So does that count or do you only get kudos when you perform an act of kindness?Even if for example, you pay for them because you have the money but you don’t

really care about the person or their situation. What I’m saying is, what is moreimportant, that I feel your pain and want to help you or that I help you because it iseasy for me to do so but I don’t care a damn for your situation?

How many times have you given money to a beggar just to get rid of them notbecause you want to make their life better? Who is the real philanthropist, the personwho gives thousands of dollars because they have millions or the one who shares their

last fifty cents with a beggar?

Well I hope these notes help you get more out of the story. I’ll be back on Mondaywith chapter two.

the man - a philosophical novel - chapter 1 includes notes

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