Danielle Weeks: This piece is set in 1958, back when even expressing same-sex interest was criminalized in many states. I'm interested in how this story handles Anne Duke's relationship with Miss Smith and its aftermath. Although Miss Smith is sent away and threatened with jail time after they are discovered, Anne Duke has a surprisingly hopeful ending. What made you decide to focus on the hope of Anne Duke's future and the supportive relationship of her brother rather than the discrimination and hardship a character like her might have faced?
Bill Smoot: This story is one in a series I wrote, all of them set in a small Kentucky town in the late 50s or early 60s. One of my goals was to capture the zeitgeist of that time and place.
I'm afraid we are living in a society in which many view the world through premade lenses, and what does not fit their preconceived narrative is not seen. I believe this story reflects the complexity of the small-town fifties, a mixture repression and tolerance, peopled by those who try to mold you in a certain way and those who support you as you are.
For me, that Anne Duke and Kris Smith had to separate is the story’s tragedy; that Anne Duke knew a romance as dreamy as spring clouds and a dedication as abiding as her brother’s is the story’s triumph. It is the glow cast by those two forms of love that sweetens the end of the story with hope.
DW: Yes, her brother's dedication to her and their relationship was something I really enjoyed. Anne Duke and her brother have a deep connection, and many of their scenes together play out in complete quiet, like when he caddies for her. Anne Duke describes this connection as "being-with": “Being-with. You and me. We don’t have to say anything. It’s just the feeling. We’re together.” I love this concept and immediately recognized it in some relationships I've had, and I'm sure many readers had the same experience. Where did the phrase "being-with" come from, and how did it influence the creation of this story?
BS: The phrase (Mitsein in German) is an important one in the philosophy of Heidegger, and no doubt that's how it was floating around in my mind. (My academic training is in philosophy.) But I didn't remember exactly what Heidegger meant by it, and I didn't want to remember what Heidegger meant by it. I just wanted to steal the phrase. It seemed right that Anne Duke, an original and creative thinker, would invent the phrase as a label for something she recognized as precious. So I thank Anne Duke for the phrase that became the title of the story. It became the title for the story because that's what the story is about, this warm and wonderful brother-sister love.
DW: I like Anne Duke's take on "being-with" and think that phrase serves as a fantastic title for the themes of the story. I also appreciate that you resisted the impulse to look it up! It's so easy to search for the "correct answer" to something instead of following the creative thread attached to that idea. Besides philosophy, are there other disciplines or interests of yours that you follow through your writing?
BS: I am interested in political and cultural history, so that tends to show up in my writing, both in terms of theme and detail. I once read a musing to the effect that a child sitting on a knoll in Kansas in the 1870s could have looked in one direction and seen horse-drawn wagons carrying families westward and looked in the other direction and seen a passenger locomotive steaming down the track. The child would have been observing two eras at the same moment. That's one of the things that fascinates me about the time frame of the stories in my series—the characters have one foot planted in the fifties and another foot planted in the sixties. It can make for some precarious footing!
I also like sprinkling in details. In these stories Eisenhower, Elvis, and black and white TVs are part of the stage sets. One of them takes place on the day JFK was assassinated. I'd like to add a postscript to "Being-With" that says, Dear Reader, I invite you find "Born Too Late" on Youtube and give it a listen. [DW: here is the link if you want to link to it https://youtu.be/h3mfPDSbl-4 ]
DW: That idea of characters living in a liminal political/cultural moment definitely makes for interesting reading. How do your characters respond to this kind of precarious footing in time? What kind of tensions does that create?
BS: When the world changes, it is like standing on the threshold of a room full of unfamiliar people. You feel like hanging back for comfort and safety, but you also have an impulse to enter and explore. For those who enter, they make it up as they go along, and that improvisation defines who they are. In many of the stories in this series, that is the conflict: do I stay or do I go?
In “Being-With,” though parts of Anne Duke’s story (the best parts!) happen off-stage, she has entered a new room. With limited understanding of what’s going on, Bobby decides one thing: he will fight for Anne Duke, no matter what. He could have just taken Inky for a walk and left Anne Duke on her own. Having someone’s back is an important part of being-with.
Bill Smoot: This story is one in a series I wrote, all of them set in a small Kentucky town in the late 50s or early 60s. One of my goals was to capture the zeitgeist of that time and place.
I'm afraid we are living in a society in which many view the world through premade lenses, and what does not fit their preconceived narrative is not seen. I believe this story reflects the complexity of the small-town fifties, a mixture repression and tolerance, peopled by those who try to mold you in a certain way and those who support you as you are.
For me, that Anne Duke and Kris Smith had to separate is the story’s tragedy; that Anne Duke knew a romance as dreamy as spring clouds and a dedication as abiding as her brother’s is the story’s triumph. It is the glow cast by those two forms of love that sweetens the end of the story with hope.
DW: Yes, her brother's dedication to her and their relationship was something I really enjoyed. Anne Duke and her brother have a deep connection, and many of their scenes together play out in complete quiet, like when he caddies for her. Anne Duke describes this connection as "being-with": “Being-with. You and me. We don’t have to say anything. It’s just the feeling. We’re together.” I love this concept and immediately recognized it in some relationships I've had, and I'm sure many readers had the same experience. Where did the phrase "being-with" come from, and how did it influence the creation of this story?
BS: The phrase (Mitsein in German) is an important one in the philosophy of Heidegger, and no doubt that's how it was floating around in my mind. (My academic training is in philosophy.) But I didn't remember exactly what Heidegger meant by it, and I didn't want to remember what Heidegger meant by it. I just wanted to steal the phrase. It seemed right that Anne Duke, an original and creative thinker, would invent the phrase as a label for something she recognized as precious. So I thank Anne Duke for the phrase that became the title of the story. It became the title for the story because that's what the story is about, this warm and wonderful brother-sister love.
DW: I like Anne Duke's take on "being-with" and think that phrase serves as a fantastic title for the themes of the story. I also appreciate that you resisted the impulse to look it up! It's so easy to search for the "correct answer" to something instead of following the creative thread attached to that idea. Besides philosophy, are there other disciplines or interests of yours that you follow through your writing?
BS: I am interested in political and cultural history, so that tends to show up in my writing, both in terms of theme and detail. I once read a musing to the effect that a child sitting on a knoll in Kansas in the 1870s could have looked in one direction and seen horse-drawn wagons carrying families westward and looked in the other direction and seen a passenger locomotive steaming down the track. The child would have been observing two eras at the same moment. That's one of the things that fascinates me about the time frame of the stories in my series—the characters have one foot planted in the fifties and another foot planted in the sixties. It can make for some precarious footing!
I also like sprinkling in details. In these stories Eisenhower, Elvis, and black and white TVs are part of the stage sets. One of them takes place on the day JFK was assassinated. I'd like to add a postscript to "Being-With" that says, Dear Reader, I invite you find "Born Too Late" on Youtube and give it a listen. [DW: here is the link if you want to link to it https://youtu.be/h3mfPDSbl-4 ]
DW: That idea of characters living in a liminal political/cultural moment definitely makes for interesting reading. How do your characters respond to this kind of precarious footing in time? What kind of tensions does that create?
BS: When the world changes, it is like standing on the threshold of a room full of unfamiliar people. You feel like hanging back for comfort and safety, but you also have an impulse to enter and explore. For those who enter, they make it up as they go along, and that improvisation defines who they are. In many of the stories in this series, that is the conflict: do I stay or do I go?
In “Being-With,” though parts of Anne Duke’s story (the best parts!) happen off-stage, she has entered a new room. With limited understanding of what’s going on, Bobby decides one thing: he will fight for Anne Duke, no matter what. He could have just taken Inky for a walk and left Anne Duke on her own. Having someone’s back is an important part of being-with.
Bill Smoot has published short fiction in such periodicals as Ninth Letter, Orchid, Crab Orchard Review, Narrative, Barely South Review, Broad River Review, and Literary Review. He is the author of a non-fiction book, Conversations with Great Teachers, and a novel, Love: A Story was published in August, 2019. He grew up in Maysville, Kentucky, and received philosophy degrees at Purdue and Northwestern. He lives in Berkeley, California, and teaches college courses at San Quentin Prison.
Danielle Weeks earned her MFA in poetry through Eastern Washington University’s creative writing program. Her poetry has been published or is forthcoming in The Boiler Journal, The Gettysburg Review, Redivider, and Salt Hill, among others.