A Gradual Joy
Sun., September 2, 12:49 PM
I was cleaning out the computer too. I found this account of A Gradual Joy that I must have written, um, two computers ago. Maybe it's a good entry for today.
By no means a new book, it was published in 1953. The paperback was 35 cents; the hardcover, released simultaneously, cost $2 in bookstores. My daughter and I read it so often that it began to fall apart, and she found me another — one of our first ever online buys. It cost a lot more than 35 cents! A Gradual Joy by Alma Routsong was first serialized in Ladies' Home Journal; I began reading it there, but somehow I never got the last parts. I just remembered it, as I always held onto anything I didn't quite understand.
When I was in college, I noticed someone reading that same book and asked where she got it. It was in the university bookstore, she told me, because it was required reading for a course in the Family Relations department, specifically something called Marriage 101. (It was a good course to take as an “unrelated,” but by the time I signed up, it had a different teacher and the book was no longer required. But nothing I ever learn is wasted…) That was, I think, the first time I consciously considered fiction as a source of education.
It's a very typical book of the 1950's, and I read it again from time to time — not so much for the story as for the feeling of a different era. I'm sure that, if it were written today, the ending would be different. Nevertheless, there is value in thinking about “two people discovering how to live with each other.” (The quote is from the book cover.) Any good description of a marriage, while it may or may not apply to your situation, points out the accommodations you make for the sake of cooperation and harmony.
Routsong had another goal in mind when she wrote the story. Henrietta, the wife, is a former Navy nurse; Jim, her husband, is a former Marine, with a war-related disability. They are going to college on the GI bill, which is something that Routsong did herself. Instead of complaining about the disadvantages, she wanted people to know what a wonderful thing it was. She wanted to say thank you to the people of this country.
The story is written from Jim's point of view, in a conversational style I don't quite connect with — but then, I'm not from Michigan. It seems to move a little slowly at first; I'm not sure why I stayed with it in the first place. Of course, in my teens I was still reading everything that came in front of my eyes. Like many stories, it changes as my own experiences color it.
A few years ago I suggested it to my son, though it really isn't a man's story. He was, however, at a stage of life where he was considering a more permanent relationship. I figured it might give him food for thought. He's not as clueless as Jim, and he has kept house for himself ever since he got out of college. But sharing your space with another person is never completely easy.
Did he ever read it? Does he still have it? I have no idea. His wife might enjoy it. That story has traveled a long way since it was written.
Why is it appropriate today? Thirty-nine years ago, Husband and I began “learning to live with one another.” He certainly is not the same man he was, but as I mentioned, nothing I ever learn is wasted. (except some old DOS commands)
