The grotesques were not all horrible. It was the truths that made the people grotesques. As he nears sleep, all the people he has ever met pass slowly before his eyes. The truth would grow to terrible proportions and then Doctor Reefy would destroy that truth and begin again with the bits of paper. All about in the world were the truths and they were all beautiful. The old man had listed hundreds of the truths in his book.
The subject would become so big in his mind that he himself would be in danger of becoming a grotesque. For years he had been beset with notions concerning his heart. This plan is inadequate because she is still grasping at an absolute sense of being. The carpenter had once been a prisoner in Andersonville prison and had lost a brother. And then, of course, he had known people, many people, known them in a peculiarly intimate way that was different from the way in which you and I know people. All about in the world were the truths and they were all beautiful. George acted as his medium of expression and Wing missed his presence.
It is interesting that Anderson himself had his bed raised so that he could look out at the Loop in Chicago. It was his notion that the moment one of the people took one of the truths to himself, called it his truth, and tried to live his life by it, he became a grotesque and the truth he embraced became a falsehood. Now and then a man, cut off from his fellows by the peculiarities of his nature, becomes absorbed in doing something that is personal, useful and beautiful. The Book of the Grotesque The writer, an old man with a white mustache, had some difficulty in getting into bed. She is also pleased that he does not agree with his father's philosophy that he must wake up but she is mistaken to use two singular episodes as definitive in George's life. Some were amusing, some almost beautiful, and one, a woman all drawn out of shape, hurt the old man by her grotesqueness.
The carpenter was a soldier in the Civil War and was also old with a white mustache. Similarly, we are also told that Wing Adolph is a fat little old man but later we learn he was but forty but looked sixty-five, and thus he isn't old at all. And then the people came along. Instead of emphasizing plot and action, Anderson used a simple, precise, unsentimental style to reveal the frustration, loneliness, and longing in the lives of his characters. All about in the world were the truths and they were all beautiful. She is threatened by all vitality except from her son. His inability to communicate with anyone else is conveyed not only by the paper pills but also by Anderson's description of him sitting all day by a cobweb-covered window in his empty office.
Sherwood Anderson's 'Hands,' which is one vignette among many in his book ''Winesburg, Ohio,'' is definitely about hands, but it is also about truth, beauty, and the grotesque. He spoke closely only with , the boy reporter of the Winesburg Eagle. Hundreds and hundreds were the truths and they were all beautiful. The knuckles foreshadow the odd tendency of the man to take ideas from the air and form them into balls of truth. The old writer, like all of the people in the world, had got, during his long fife, a great many notions in his head.
The image of the wooden balls parallels the balls of paper which form in the Doctor's pockets en masse before he empties them out. The old doctor was married once, to a much younger woman who died a year after their marriage. They would sit quietly in her room during the evening and look out the window. This sketch, like many of the stories, takes place in a room, a symbol throughout the book not of security and warmth but of isolation and entrapment. Beauty We are told that if the story of Wing Biddlebaum's hands was accurately presented, 'it would tap many strange, beautiful qualities in obscure men. They believe that they have some sort of value to their lives.
All of the men and women the writer had ever known had become grotesques. He wanted terribly to make his life a thing of great importance, and as he looked about at his fellow men and saw how like clods they lived it seemed to him that he could not bear to become also such a clod. The stories are brief glimpses of people failing. Do not republish it without permission. The sadness of sophistication has come to the boy.
The car- penter, who had been a soldier in the Civil War, came into the writer's room and sat down to talk of building a platform for the purpose of raising the bed. She stood up to act when George entered and told her that he was leaving. But Anderson more largely explored the figure of the grotesque. It is absurd, you see, to try to tell what was inside the old writer as he lay on his high bed and listened to the fluttering of his heart. In the bed the writer had a dream that was not a dream.
In the woods in the darkness beyond the Fair Ground water dripped from the black trees. These two works, incidentally, share a common theme of isolation. The plan the writer had for the raising of his bed was forgotten and later the carpenter did it in his own way and the writer, who was past sixty, had to help himself with a chair when he went to bed at night. But his skill is tainted and feared - grotesque - giving the reader another perspective through which to view the act of writing itself and through which to understand the hand of the book's author. He must spill out the paper balls as the truth becomes too dominant and the paper fills his pocket.
The story of friendship between Wing and George is also a story of hands - we learn that Wing's hands, just as his personality, are freed in the presence of young George. As he taught them, 'here and there went his hands, caressing the shoulders of the boys, playing about the tousled heads. He was tall and had worn the same suit for ten years. He was like a pregnant woman, only that the thing inside him was not a baby but a youth. You see the interest in all this lies in the figures that went before the eyes of the writer. It was never published, but I saw it once and it made an indelible impression on my mind. The writer had cigars lying about and the car- penter smoked.