I think I’m on my third version of this post, which, as one would expect, has taken on the flavor of the time in which it was written. It would be so much easier if I were able to write about the story immediately following reading it, and that is the goal, but we are where we are in this project, and I’ll be playing a little catch-up. As it stands now, I’m writing about the second story in the anthology and reading the twelfth.
Write faster, man!
Mary Gaitskill is one hell of a writer, and after reading about her, she’s one hell of a person, too. Fearless, bold, and looking over my shoulder, back at the early 90s, she fits perfectly into that new decade. I was going to opine on the story, “The Girl on the Plane”, but there are so many others that have provided thoughts from every conceivable angle that I thought I’d focus more on a few words Mary wrote in the anthology's Contributors’ Notes - always a rich source, for additional insights into the author’s mind and story.
Just a brief brush against the story. I’m reading this story in 2026, and the world is a much different place than it was 34 years ago. The story today stirs different emotions in the reader than it did in 1992/1993; our collective tolerance of certain behaviors, perhaps, has gone through some societal psychotherapy, not to excuse the behavior, but perhaps it has uncovered and brought forth the raw, honest interior of humans.
“The Girl on the Plane” is a story about a conversation, the dynamics between men and women, and finally, perception from and of: the characters, the author, and the readers, illustrating that we need to own that perception and it’s our responsibility to consider the impact of our behaviors, which we seldom do.
Here is a passage from the Contributors' Notes.
“I don't see how people can be responsible for their behavior if they are not responsible for their own thoughts and feelings. In my opinion, most of us have not been taught how to be responsible for our thoughts and feelings. I see this strongly in the widespread tendency to read books and stories as if they exist to confirm how we are supposed to be, think, and feel. I'm not talking wacky political correctness, I'm talking main-stream. And not just written stories either; I was flabbergasted by the public debate over the film Thelma and Louise, in which grown people discussed a Hollywood movie as if its purpose was to instruct us on how to live our lives, condemning or praising it based on whether they thought the instructions were valid. (I would not be surprised if some of these same people also wrote essays bemoaning "victimism.") Ladies and gentlemen, please. Stop asking "What am I supposed to feel?" Why would an adult look to me or to any other writer to tell him or her what to feel? You're not supposed to feel anything. You feel what you feel.
Where you go with it is your responsibility. If a writer chooses to aggressively let you know what he or she feels, where you go with it is still your responsibility.”
I would love to see Gaitskills' notes or thoughts about this story before publication - just to see how the passage of time, post publication, influenced the above, if at all.
Two portions that I’d like to highlight.
“In my opinion, most of us have not been taught how to be responsible for our thoughts and feelings.”
And
“You feel what you feel.
Where you go with it is your responsibility.”
Wise words.
