I once had a professor who was obsessed with titles and
definitions. It stands to reason that she was doubly obsessed with the
definition of any word in a title. When you read for her class, you looked up
every title word and jotted down definitions. This included "the", "that", or "and". Anything. You never
knew when she’d pounce on you in the middle of a lecture and demand a precise
definition. No guesses allowed.
Old habits die hard. I still look up words in the title of
just about everything I read. And it’s appropriate for something as
enigmatically titled as "Same Opposite", the first chapbook release of short
(short) fiction by Parker Tettleton (published 2010 by Thunderclap Press). It’s the kind of title that begs for this
kind of exercise. Two common words thrown together in an apparent
contradiction.
Ready? Fasten your seatbelt.
Same: 1 a
: resembling in every relevant respect b :
conforming in every respect 2 a :
being one without addition, change, or discontinuance : identical
b : being the one under discussion or already
referred to 3 : corresponding so closely as
to be indistinguishable.
Opposite: 1
a : set over or against something that is at the
other end or side of an intervening line or space b
: situated in pairs on an axis with each member being
separated from the other by half the circumference of the axis 2 a
: occupying an opposing and often antagonistic position b
: diametrically different (as in nature or character)
Okay. There’s plenty there. But what is key to understanding
Tettleton’s choice in title is the fact that "opposite", by definition, has
more to do with position than it does with composition.
Bear with me. Two different positions implies two different
perspectives. Even when given two things that are otherwise the same. This idea
forms the essence of Parker’s work and is expressed no more perfectly than in "Old Expensive Cars", one of the shortest pieces and also one of the best: "Great she said. She said great. Another day she said. She said another day." By juxtaposing two opposing arrangements of the exact same words, Parker realigns
our understanding both of a character and of the words themselves. It is
brilliantly rendered.
Indeed, such brilliant renderings of language make Parker’s
short prose sing as though it were poetry. Perhaps it is poetry. Perhaps poetry
is both the same and the opposite of what Parker has written. I don’t know. But
I do know that my only complaint about this first release is that it was not
longer.
When I closed the book (too soon) I could not help but be
suddenly reminded of an edict on the submissions page of PANK magazine: "Inhabit your contradictions." Parker does. And Parker’s contradictions do him
well. They will also do you well. So buy them here.
