When Mr Ricker returned their papers, a big A+ was scrawled on Pete’s cover, which was a computer-scanned photo of Rothstein as a young man, sitting in Sardi’s with Ernest Hemingway. Below the A+, Mr Ricker had written See me after class.
When the other kids were gone, Mr Ricker looked at Pete so fixedly that Pete was momentarily scared his favorite teacher was going to accuse him of plagiarism. Then Mr Ricker smiled. ‘That is the best student paper I’ve read in my twenty-eight years of teaching. Because it was the most confident, and the most deeply felt.’
Pete’s face heated with pleasure. ‘Thanks. Really. Thanks a lot.’
‘I’d argue with your conclusion, though,’ Mr Ricker said, leaning back in his chair and lacing his fingers together behind his neck. ‘The characterization of Jimmy as “a noble American hero, like Huck Finn,” is not supported by the concluding book of the trilogy. Yes, he throws an ashtray at the television screen, but it’s not an act of heroism. The CBS logo is an eye, you know, and Jimmy’s act is a ritual blinding of his inner eye, the one that sees the truth. That’s not my insight; it’s an almost direct quote from an essay called “The Runner Turns Away,” by John Crowe Ransom. Leslie Fiedler says much the same in Love and Death in the American Novel.’
‘But—’
‘I’m not trying to debunk you, Pete; I’m just saying you need to follow the evidence of any book wherever it leads, and that means not omitting crucial developments that run counter to your thesis. What does Jimmy do after he throws the ashtray through the TV, and after his wife delivers her classic line, “You bastard, how will the kids watch Mickey Mouse now?”’
‘He goes out and buys another TV set, but—’
‘Not just any TV set, but the first color TV set on the block. And then?’
‘He creates the big successful ad campaign for Duzzy-Doo household cleaner. But—’
Mr Ricker raised his eyebrows, waiting for the but. And how could Pete tell him that a year later, Jimmy steals into the agency late one night with matches and a can of kerosene? That Rothstein foreshadows all the protests about Vietnam and civil rights by having Jimmy start a fire that pretty much destroys the building known as the Temple of Advertising? That he hitchhikes out of New York City without a look back, leaving his family behind and striking out for the territory, just like Huck and Jim? He couldn’t say any of that, because it was the story told in The Runner Goes West, a novel that existed only in seventeen closely written notebooks that had lain buried in an old trunk for over thirty years.
‘Go ahead and but me your buts,’ Mr Ricker said equably. ‘There’s nothing I like better than a good book discussion with someone who can hold up his end of the argument. I imagine you’ve already missed your bus, but I’ll be more than happy to give you a ride home.’ He tapped the cover sheet of Pete’s paper, Johnny R. and Ernie H., those twin titans of American literature, with oversized martini glasses raised in a toast. ‘Unsupported conclusion aside – which I put down to a touching desire to see light at the end of an extremely dark final novel – this is extraordinary work. Just extraordinary. So go for it. But me your buts.’
‘But nothing, I guess,’ Pete said. ‘You could be right.’
Only Mr Ricker wasn’t. Any doubt about Jimmy Gold’s capacity to sell out that remained at the end of The Runner Goes West was swept away in the last and longest novel of the series, The Runner Raises the Flag. It was the best book Pete had ever read. Also the saddest.
‘In your paper you don’t go into how Rothstein died.’
‘No.’
‘May I ask why not?’
‘Because it didn’t fit the theme, I guess. And it would have made the paper too long. Also … well … it was such a bummer for him to die that way, getting killed in a stupid burglary.’
‘He shouldn’t have kept cash in the house,’ Mr Ricker said mildly, ‘but he did, and a lot of people knew it. Don’t judge him too harshly for that. Many writers have been stupid and improvident about money. Charles Dickens found himself supporting a family of slackers, including his own father. Samuel Clemens was all but bankrupted by bad real estate transactions. Arthur Conan Doyle lost thousands of dollars to fake mediums and spent thousands more on fake photos of fairies. At least Rothstein’s major work was done. Unless you believe, as some people do—’
Pete looked at his watch. ‘Um, Mr Ricker? I can still catch my bus if I hurry.’
Mr Ricker did that funny yowza-yowza thing with his hands. ‘Go, by all means go. I just wanted to thank you for such a wonderful piece of work … and to offer a friendly caution: when you approach this kind of thing next year – and in college – don’t let your good nature cloud your critical eye. The critical eye should always be cold and clear.’