Songs in Ursa Major by Emma Brodie

Author:Emma Brodie [Brodie, Emma]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Knopf Doubleday Publishing Group
Published: 2021-06-22T00:00:00+00:00

25

The next morning, the front page of The Island Gazette confirmed that, after much deliberation, the Festival Committee had voted to disband; for the first time since its inaugural year, the Fest hadn’t turned a profit, and—given the increasing costs of production—it didn’t make financial sense to continue. As Jane replaced the paper on the kitchen table, she felt the final piece of her old life crumble away.

That day, she went for a swim. She biked out to the clay beach beyond the Fest grounds and waded in up to her knees, watching the seaweed knit lace patterns on the surface. Then she dove, feeling the salt coat her body, feeling the force of the ocean rock her.

Underwater, the only sound she could hear was the hushed rumble of the waves—not the gulls up above, not her own muted screaming. Blood pounded in her ears as she propelled herself to the surface. In her lungs, the air was sharp and clear; Jane watched it lift the gulls from the water. She watched it fill a fleet of distant sails.

On her way home, she purchased a notebook along with her daily cigarettes. She cleared a spot on her bedroom floor, wedged herself between her bed and her closet, and began to write.

The words came slowly at first; then they began to pour. This writing was the work of excavation; she was digging to uncover the wild forces inside her she had once sought to bury. She was digging to find out what they might have to say.

Over several days, she watched her handwriting shift from loops, to jags, to electrocardiograms, to large caps, to tiny scrawl, to first-grade penmanship. She had filled five composition books when she felt a song beginning to simmer. It wasn’t the same frenzy she’d experienced when she wrote “Spark”; it was more like watching a pot come to a boil.

There’s a devil in Kentucky,

Plays the banjo fast as sin,

Says there’s a church inside me,

But he don’t know how bad I’ve been.

Well, if that cathedral’s in me,

He’s gotta know the truth,

My chorus sings a love song,

And my altar’s built to you.

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