Fair Play by Tove Jansson

Author:Tove Jansson [Jansson, Tove]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
ISBN: 9781908745200
Publisher: Perseus Books Group
Published: 2011-12-14T06:00:00+00:00

B-Western

JONNA CAME IN WITH A BOTTLE OF BOURBON, a carafe of water, and a packet of Cortez cigarillos.

“Aha,” said Mari, “the Wild West. A B-Western?”

“Yes. An early classic.”

The room was cold, and Mari wrapped herself in a blanket. “What time?”

“Actually,” Jonna said. “Actually, it would probably be better if I watched it alone.”

“I promise not to say a word.”

“Yes, but I’ll know what you’re thinking, and I can’t concentrate.” Jonna poured them both a drink. “You think Westerns repeat the same theme over and over. That may be. But you have to understand that Americans are in love with their history, which was so short and powerful, and they describe and depict it again and again… Are you in love with the Renaissance? What do you care about the ancient Egyptians? The Chinese?”

“Not much,” Mari said. “They’re just there. Or were.”

“Fine. Now don’t assume that I’m defending B-Westerns, but think about it, try to imagine what it was like in the early days. Courage! Courage and patience. And pure curiosity. Imagine being among the very first to discover and conquer a new country, a new continent!”

“Conquer,” Mari repeated and pulled the blanket tighter.

“Yes, yes. Now don’t go on about the Indians and all that stuff about cruelty and arrogance; those things happen on both sides. Great change always involves great intensity. That’s just the way it is, right? Look at their desolate little towns in a completely empty landscape, and remember they lived in constant danger… They had to develop a strict, an implacable, sense of justice, they had to try to invent the Law for themselves, as best they could…” Jonna put down her cigarillo. “It doesn’t draw,” she said. “It’s the wrong kind.”

Mari remarked that perhaps the cigarillos had been lying around too long, and Jonna went on. “It must be that lawlessness has its own laws. Of course mistakes occurred. They lived such violent lives that they simply didn’t have time to reflect, that’s what I think. But mistakes happen today, too, don’t they? We hang the wrong guy, so to speak.”

Jonna leaned forward and looked at her friend earnestly. “The sense of honour,” she announced. “Believe me, the sense of honour has never been so strong. Friendship between men. You said the heroines were idiotic. Fine, they are idiotic. But take them away, forget them, and what do you find? Friendship between men who are unswervingly honourable toward one another. That’s the concept of the Western.”

“I know,” Mari said. “They have an honourable fist fight and then they’re friends for life. Unless the noblest of them gets shot at the end, sacrificing his life to soft music.”

“Now you’re just being mean,” said Jonna. She lifted aside the cloth that protected her television screen and turned to channel two.

“Anyway, I’m right,” Mari said. “It’s the same thing over and over. They ride past precisely the same mountain and the same waterfall and that Mexican church. And the saloon. And the oxcarts. Don’t they ever get tired of it?”

“No,” Jonna answered.

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