from Man Belonging...
(Gyldendal,1977)

Morris Lurie.' Home Is
Magazine,1974)'
(fronrStories from the Transatlaittic
I{orris Lurie. Rorn in 1938 in Melbourne,Australia, but now living in London. His literary activity consists of novels,
,,Rappaport" and ,,Tlze London Jungle Adventures of Charlie
Hope", short stories,,,Happy Times", and a children's book,
27llt,Armual Af rican HippopotamusRace".
,,Th.e

Morris Lurie

HomeIs ( 116t )
He lived in New York and in London and on the isle of Rhodes, and in Paris there was always a room for him at Peter Stein's place with a view of grey slate roofs and the Seine, and in Prague Bob Turner who taught English chose at the University liked to have him but he sometimes a hotel (Bob's children were nice, but he didn't like having to tiptoe around when they were asleep),and in Beirut and in Istanbul and in West Berlin and in Rome he always stayed in hotels,though he had friends, good friends, in all these places, and he had friends in Athens too but he preferred the Grand Bretagne, and now, as the plane he was in touched down on Rhodes,he closedthe book he was reading (poems; For the Union Dead) and sat baik and waited for the plane to stop. He closedhis eyes.And

Home Is 59

when he felt no movementhe openedthem and unlocked his seat belt and reached up for his hat and then made his lvay along the aisle and down the stepsand srniled at the hostess and then looked up and for a secondhe was completely lost. It was no place Max Gottiieb had ever beenin his life before.
And then it was Rhodes.
It lasted a second, more, but it was immense,gigan_ no tic, and it took all the strengthout of his legs and he alt 0 most collapsed.one second. For one second he hadn't recognizedRhodes,this airport, hills, trees,where he had been so often, so many years.It was like walking through the door into your bathroom and finding yourself in
Africa. Or on the surfaceof the moon. t5 Christ, I'm going crazy,he thought. .
He shook his head and 'rvhistled phew and blinked in the sun. It was g'one,but for a few seconcrs more his legs felt funny as he walked across tarrnacto customs. the Someone rvas waving. At me? he thought. Who _? SyI_ via. of course.
And Larry. He'd cabiedtirem from Athens tlrat lre was coming. I really arn goingnuts, he thought.
" H i !" h e ca l l e d ,a n d w avedback.
He showed his passport and went through the gate and they came up to him and Sylvia gave him a hug and a kisson both cheeks and Larry slappedhim on the back.
"Max. welcome home. Max, you're looking marvellous.
Good trip?"
Sylvia so exuberant,
Larry his srnilingself.
"Oh, beautiful, beautiful," Max said. ,,Sylvia,
),ou're
four times as brown as when I left. Fiae timer. wtrot have you been doing, treading grapes in the sun or something?
Larry, how's the painting?"
"Oh, so-so,
/ou know. Just dabbling."
"r bet. And winning prizes and getting commissions and making thousands every day. Oh, he.e comemy bags.
I'll just get this thing stamped and we can get out of

60

'Morris

Lurie

here. Airports, my God."
"The car's right out front," Sylvia said. "Larry, don't just stand there. Help Max with his bags, that's what you're here for."
"That's the style," Max laughed."Earn yourself a handsome tip. Hey, careful with'that bag. It's full of Greek cakesand nylon shirts."
"Oh Max, you're gorgeous,"
Sylvia said.
"The pearl of the Adriatic," Max said.
They squeezed into the front of the Farrells' CitroEn l 0
- one of those small ones with bug eyes and a canvas roof - with the luggage bouncing in the back. Larry drove and Sylvia sat in the middle and Max lit a cigarette and oh these hills and trees he loved so much, good-bye
New York forever, who needs it? - they swerved around t 5 a peasantgirl on a donkey, Larry blasting the horn and the girl sitting sidesaddleand her legs pumping up and down as the donkey trotted along - and again, for a second,the strangestfeeling came over him. Where am I?
What am I doing here? But he had no time to think because Sylvia, as usual,was talking nonstop.
"How was London? Brilliant? We've been reading all about it in the papers. The theatre, my God. The things we're missing. Did you seeeuerything? That new thing, what's the name of it? , - Larry, what's that absolutely brilliant play the papershave beenfull of? Oh, he doesn't remember a thing. Old age. Vu", you were in Berlin too, oh you lucky thing. Did you go into East? How was it?
'beasts
Opera? My God, they're foul but they do have the most fantastic opera. Max, hey, you're not listening to a tlring I'm saying."
"Oh what? Sorry," Max said."All this flying."
No, he hadn't heard a word. He had beenlookine at his
-still
face reflected in the wind.screen.
Thirty-five, and so boyish. Dark, sad eyesand that intenselook. But not quite as intense as it had been ten years ago. A little rounder,

Home Is 6l

l0

l5

a little softer. A different intensity. The poet was gone.
And in his place?
"Max, I want to hear absolutelyeverything.Before you tell anysrreelse."
"What? Oh." Wake up, wake up, he told himself, what's wrong with you. And he did, all at once,he became his old self, Max the raconteur, charming and casual,full of fun. "Well, before I forget," he began. "Ziggy sends you his love and -"
"Ziggy. How nice."
"- AII the plays in London are awful, completely awful, you have no idea,and The poet had becomea gossip.This was Max Gottlieb, aged thirty-five. And inch by inch, one inch at a time, carefully, he opened the glittering bag of talk and news he had brought with him from the theatresand parties of
Europe, trinkets and pearls and tantalizing first inchesof multi-coloured ribbon - carefully, it had to last for two months. There was love from him, regards from her, stories and jokes and first views of new places and new people, while the bays of the isle of Rhodes opened up before them, the purest sand, the sea that unbelievable blue, and on the slopes of the hills the olive trees so gnarled and centuries old on their pockets of land so small amongstthe rocksand the houses simply white. so "Oh, I must tell you about a party Freddy gave. Someone brought a horseand - Wow, look at that!"
They had taken the final turn and there was the acropolis and the white village of Lindos, which many say is the most beautifulin all Greece.
"Go on about the horse," Sylvia said. "What horse?"
"Sssh,"Max whispered.
"The view."
It affected him like this every time he came back. Five years now, going on six. 1961. The year his father died
(and the poet too, but he didn't know that then).
Max the millionaire on his first world trip.
6 2 M o r r i sT , u r i e

There were four of them, Roger and Viv and that girl with the red hair - What was her name? Lester? No . . .
- and Max, and they were doing the Greek islands,really doing them, Hydra and Mykonos, Patmos and Samos,
Santorini, Crete, and from Crete they flew to Rhodes becauseRoger said there was a famotls acropolis there, shouldn't be missed,and as soon as Max saw it, and under it that nestling village like a handful of sugar cubes in the sun - drunk admittedly, the four of them in the back of a cab, Roger and the girl with the red hair on the jrr*p seatsand all of them laughing for no reasonat all he decided,I'm buying a househere, and he did. Lindos.
Houses were cheap then, not that it mattered, and he bought a small one overlooking the bay and for three months he had Greeks working nonstop knocking out walls and installing a bathroom and a kitchen and putting up bookshelvesand building benches, while Max made a whirlwind trip through Europe and came back with chairs from Denmark,, Spanish rugs, knick-knacks from Liberty's in London, German stereo, and a superb print of the defeat of Napoleon at Waterloo for the wall abovethe mantlepiece.
"This is home," he said, and he had almost decidedto get rid of his apartment in New York and his mews flat in Chelsea(which he'd only had for six months) and stay forever in this Greek paradise when he woke up one morning with a great desire for green fields, country lanes, German beer, mountains and snow, and he flew to
New York (it was summer there) and stayed for three months.Theatre,parties,old friends,new places.
And after that, to cool down, a month in Paris, which was just as hectic.
Then he came back, stayed two months, and left again.
And he had beendoing this ever since.
"Here we are," said Sylvia. "Larry, get the bags."
"Ah, isn't it wonderful," said Max.

FlomeIs 63

t!

25

t5

It rr was olrlerent every ttme, an(l always tne same. lJondifferent time, and always the
Donkeys, and black-clad women filling their waterjugs at the

t5

fountain and old brown men sitting in the sun and everyone talking and making a noise. The same, and so different. Tourist busesand hundreds of Swedesand souvenirs for sale everywhere you looked. There was none of that when he had first come.There were only the Farrells and a Dutch painter (Rembrandt, everyone called him, and my God, weren't his paintings awful!) and an old
English lady with a houseful of cats - and now every secondhouse had a painter in it or a writer or a millionaire or a beatnik, and there were two restaurants where before there had been none, and there was a pavilion on the beach and all the Greeks spokeEnglish. Well the dozen words they needed to sell their wares. And
Italian and Swedish and German and French. The international gibberishof the merchanfs Europe. of "Max! Welcomeback!"
Toby, who was from California, a painter with a small talent and the right connectionsand a taste for whisky but a nice guy, slappedhim on the back.
"How long are you stayingthis time?"
"Who knows,who knows?" Max said. "Maybe forever."
"ft's the same old Max," Toby said. "Listen, come around,say,six? Have a drink."
"Sure," Max said. "Look, I must go up to the house.
Seeif it's still there."
"Seeyou," Toby said.
Max paid a woman to look after his house while he was away. She opened the windows and dusted and when he cabled that he was coming back (to the Farrells; they told Ilena) she washed the floors and made up the bed and picked fresh flowers for the vasesand the bowls and bought food and filled up the refrigerator.She lived amoss the street from Max's house, and she was there in her doorway as they came along the street, Larry with both
61 Morris Lurie

bags, Sylvia still talking, Max trying to listen and not hearinga word.
"Ilena!" he said, seeing her, and embraced her and kissed her on the cheek.
She was an old woman, and shy,'and she had nothing to say but her eyes twinkled with delight. How long has she been standing in her doorway waiting for me, with the key in her hand? Max thought. oh, she'smarvellous.
Il e n a .A h .
"Larry," he said, "give me that bag," and there, in the street,he openedhis bag and took out a tableclothof the finest lace and blushing for no reason that he knew, he gave it to Ilena and kissed her again.
"Eflmristo, eflnristo," flena said. Her face glowed like the sun, and to hide her embarrassment made a great t ( she business fitting the key in Max's door and then she of steppedaside and they went in first and she quietly followed.
The housewas exactly as he had left it, filled with sun and flowers, a bottle of wine and six glasses a tray on on the table on the terrace,the wine cold and the bottle beadedwith water, and besideit plates of honey and jams and nuts,sweetthings,the traditional greeting.
"Well, you're home,"Sylvia said."Again.', r "And let me tell you," Max said, ,,it,sgreat to be back.
Home.tt

"Home is where your friends are," Sylvia said, smiling broadly. "oh, before I forget, you're having dinner with us tonight,okay?"
"Well, yes,"Max said."But to tell you the truth. . ."
"Sylvia," Larry said. "Come on, let,s go. I'm sure Max wantsto relax by himself for a while."
"Oh,no no," Max said."Please.
Have a glassof wine. I'm not tired or anything. Hell, a seasoned traveller like me."
"No, Larry's right," Sylvia said. ,,you do look a bit drawn and quartered."
5

Man belonging

Home Is Gs

"Sylvia," Larry said.
"I know, I know," Sylvia said. "I'm going right home to read my Book of Etiquette. But dinner, Max, if you can.About eight?"
"Eight," Max said.
Alone, he sat down on the terrace and lit a cigarette but after two puffs he threw it away. He stood tt. "p. sun was high in the sky and a white yacht was anchored in the very centre of the bay and there was a blue flag r0 flying from it. Max took off his jacket. suddenly he fel-t very tired, a wave of tirednesshe was completelyunused to, and he closedhis eyesand stood for a minute just like that, not thinking anything, just slightry rocking on the balls of his feet.
15 H.y, boy, what's wrong with you? he askedhimself.
Ile left his jacket on the terrace and went through the lounge into the bedroom and sat down on the edge of tlre bed and, hardly able to keep his eyes open, he pulled off his shoes,then rememberedhis hat and took it off zo and let it drop onto the floor, and a minute later, in his clothes, was asleep. he He slept for six hours and when he awoke it was night and quiet and he felt an enormous sense peace,a peace of so total, so complete- and then it was gone. He became n
25 aware of the wooden beams on the ceiling, the top corner of a wardrobe, the curtain by the sidesoith. window billowing in a breeze and for a second he panicked, and then he knew where hc was. He switchedon the ramp by his bed. He sat up. A rooster was crowing madly i" tfr. so night. For a minute his head spun with u h,r.rd..i things, not one of which he could put his finger on, and then he rememberedthat he was supposedto be eating with sylvia and Larry tonight - and drinks with roby ut ,i*! - but he knew it was too late even before he had looked at his
55 watch. He lay back on his bed. He didn't feel particularly hungry. He'd seewhat Ilena had put in the fridge later on.
66 Morris Lurie

A moment of peace, a secondof panic - it was like that every time he woke up, all that week, and the next, and the week after that. For a few seconds,before he was properly awake, he was somewhere else, in great peace, but where? London, New Yotk, Peter Stein's in
Paris, Prague; and of courseit was so simple but it took him nearly a month beforehe pinned it down.
It became obsession an with him.
Each night when he went to bed, after a day of gossip, reading, sitting in the sun, drinking, talking, he thought l 0 about those secondsof peacehe,would feel when he woke up, and when those secondscame, each morning, oh so short, he tried to prolong them, to suspend himself in them, so he could examine them, but each morning they lasted just two seconds, three, never more. As soon as he t 5 became aware of that great p'eace,before he had even openedhis eyes,it was gone,and in its place,blind panic.
Then nothing.
In the fifth week it came to him, so simple, so obvious.
For two seconds,every morning, he was in his father's house,twenty-five years ago, in his room at the end of the house that looked out on the garden and the fruit trees,
New England sky, birds in the trees,the first birds of the day, and the housesilent with his parents' sleeping.Home.
That room he had known so well, photographed on his 25 brain. The ceiling sloping, timber, sixteen planks, and twenty planks on one wall and fourteen on the other wall, and the yellow door. Now, he could still see the lamp, his books, his clothes on a chair, the view from his window, the tops of the trees,bare in winter and in summer green and full. And then his mother getting up and walking in her soft slippers down the hall to put on the coffee for breakfast.While his father still slept.
Home.
Then they went to New York and for a while they lived in Chicago, and then his father went to Rome for a vear
5r

Home Is 67

and they went with him, and they holidayed that year in
Venice, in rooms filled with the smell of the sea. Old rooms, yellow plaster, ornate on the ceiling, chandeliers, tiled floors,marble,cold to walk on, cracked. s Then three apartments in New York, each time richer, larger and then his father's heart attack, and his mother's small apartment, but he didn't move in with her. For various reasons.Beginning and ending with the feeling that shedidn't want him to. ro The next morning when he awoke, those secondsof being home, that peace,were not there. Not there, Nor were they the next morning, nor the morning after that, nor after that, and not for the next ten days, and on the fourteenth duy Max awoke with a great and sudden
15 urge to seea friend in Copenhagen, that lovely city, so oh human, so minutely detailed,the ivy growing on the walls and the pigeonswaddling unafraid under your feet in the squares. He left immediately.There was a plane going to Athens zo at two and he phoned and booked a seat. Then he saw
Ilena and told her he was flying off, again (he laughed, and shruggedhis shoulders), but would be back soon, as always, he always came back, and then he saw Larry and
Sylvia and Toby and a few other friends, and at twelve ru he was in a cab and on his way to the airport.
He got there in plenty of time, and after the passport formalities he stood with his bags on either side of him and lit a cigarette and watched the mechanicsrefuelling the plane. Then he checkedhis bags and sat out in the s0 sun with a cup of coffeeand waited for two o'clock.
There were less than twenty people flying to Athens, and Max was the first on board. The air inside smelt stale and of plastic and syntheticsand the seats looked tired. He moved down the aisle, looking for his seat. It
35 was by u porthole. He put his hat up on the overhead rack, and sat back, and all at once he felt relaxed and
68 Morris Lurie

:

f' aq completely at ease, in this shoddy, soiled, stale, winged metal tube, which was throbbing and the props turning and the light on saying Fastenyour seat betts plea.re,and he did, and here, on the way to Athens, on the way to
Copenhagen, Paris, to London, on the way to urry*ir.r. to at all, he felt, at last, completelyat home.

69 Rhoa.s [roudz]:Rhodos slate: sl+ifer tiptoe: ab walk on one'stoes the Grand Bretagne:(nameof a hotel)
For the Union Dead: poem by Robert Lowell
( A m e r i c a n o e t ,b o r n l g t T ) p aisle[ail]: passage between two rows of seats
60
imrnense: very great collapse: fall to the ground recognize['rekagnaiz] know
:
again something one has seenbefore whistle: blow out air between roundedlips phew lfju:]: sounde. g. annoyance expressing tarmac:(mixture of tar and gravel for) runway in airport customs:old f wave: move hand to greet somebody cable: send telegram hug: put arms round to show love exuberant[ig'zju:barant] full
:
of life tread '[tred]: stamp,crush dabble: carry out as a hobby
(i. e. not professionally)

job commission: that has to be done for somebody make thousands: make a lot of money stamp:stemple
6l
tip: moneypaid for service
(drikkepenge)
gorgeous['gc:d3as]: storsldet the pearl of the Adriatic: usually Venice,here used jokingly about Max himself bug aeggelus bounce:move up and down noisily swerve[swa:v]:change
F
direction peasant[pezant]: person working (and living) in the country sidesaddle dame
:
saddel pump: move up and down
East:here: EastBerlin foul: unpleasant, nasty reflect: show picturesof (as in a mirror) windscreen:screenof glassin front of driver (aindspejl)
62
raconteur [rrekan'ta:] Fr
:
storyteller casual ['ka3ual]: happeningby chance gossip:here: personwho is fond of talking (especially about other people) inch: tomme trinket: jewel of little value tantalize [' tantalaiz] : ra ise hopesand desires multi-coloured ['malti,kalad]
:
of many colours ribbon: narrow pieceof silk or other material open up: here: appear slope:hillside gnarledlna:ldJ:twistedand rough (forvreden) century ['sentJariJ: hundred a years
63
acropolis
[a'krapalis]:
part of a
Greek city with walls round it cube[kju:bJ:solid thing having six equal sides admittedly: which cannot be denied s nestling,[neslip] : situated cosily jo*p seat:klapsede whirlwind ['wa:lwind]:herer adj very quick rug: little carpet knickknack:trinket superb[sju'pa:b]: very fine print: picture mews [mju:z]: streetof stables turned into flats
Chelsea['t"felsi]:part of the
West End of London hectic: full of excitement black-clad:dressed black in beatnik:hippie

64 pavilion lpa'viljan]:building with ornamentsfor concerts, dances. etc. gibberish ['dsiberi"f]: volapyh refrigerator [ri'frid3arieta] vase [va:z] embrace[im'breis]:put arms round 65 twinkle: blinhe lace: kniplinger efharisto: Greeh thank you embarassm ent: f orl egenhe d, make a business : gore et of nummer af beaded:as if coveredwith pearls seasoned: here: hardened drawn: distorted(fortruhhet) quartered:cut into four pieces
(parteret)
Book of Etiquette[eti'ket]: rules of behaviour
66
anchor [alka] hall: fodballe lounge[laundg] comfortable
:
sittingroom becomeaware: realize wardrobe['wc:droub]:pieceof furniture for a person's clothes billow: wave panic: ub f.eelstrong fear rooster:cock crow lkrou]: cry (usedabout a cock) spin: be confused properly: really

67 pin down: coII look through, understand obsession: fixed idea prolong: make longer
Niw England: the six
Northeasternstatesof the
USA (Maine, Vermont, New
Hampshire,Massachusetts,
Rhode Island, Connecticut) sloping: shrdnende holiday: ub spendholidays tiled: flisecracked:broken
68
urge [a:d3]: strong desire minute [main'ju:t]: very small ivy [aiviJ: uedbend, waddle: aralte book: vb order mechanic [mi'krenik] refuel ['ri:fjual]: supply rvith petrol again check:control stale:not fresh
:
s y n t h e t i c s i n ' 0t i k ] : s D
[
e artificial product porthole:small glasswindow in the side of an aeroplane shoddy:of poor quality tube [tju:b]: long hollow cylinder throb [0rcb]:beat (usually about the heart) prop: coll propeller