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ONCE UPON A DAY by Lisa Tucker
On Sale: Now
Paperback
368 pages
ISBN-10: 0743492781
ISBN-13: 9780743492782
From Lisa Tucker, the critically acclaimed author of The Song Reader, comes a wise, humorous, and deeply compassionate novel about the risks and rewards of loving when a single day can change our lives.
Nineteen years ago, a famous man disappeared from Los Angeles, taking his two children, Dorothea and Jimmy, to a rocky, desolate corner of New Mexico where he raised them in complete isolation in a utopian "Sanctuary." The children grew up with books and encyclopedias, records and a grand piano, but no television, computer, radio, or even a newspaper. Now Dorothea, at twenty-three, is leaving this place in search of her missing brother -- and venturing into the wide world for the first time.
Dorothea's search will turn into an odyssey of discovery, leading to the truth of her family's past and the terrifying day that changed her father forever. But Dorothea's journey will also introduce her to an unusual cast of characters, including a homeless girl from Missouri who becomes a jazz singer and a social worker whose mistake in judgment changes her best friend's life. And she will meet Stephen, a doctor turned cabdriver who, after suffering his own losses, has lost his ability to believe in a meaningful world. Together, they have a chance to make a discovery of a different kind: that though a heart can be broken by the tragic events of a day, a day can also bring a new chance at love and a deeper understanding of life's infinite possibilities.
"A lyrically poignant reminder of the necessity of hope."
-Publishers Weekly, Starred Review
Lisa Tucker is the author of THE SONG READER and SHOUT DOWN THE MOON; she has also published short work in Seventeen, Pages, and The Oxford American. She has advanced degrees in English and math, and has taught creative writing at the Taos Conference and UCLA. Lisa lives in Pennsylvania with her son.
Stephen Spaulding used to be a doctor and a family man. Now, two years after his wife and young daughter were killed in an automobile accident, Stephen drives a Checker cab through the streets of St. Louis. He doesn't need the money --- he just does it to relive that horrible day and to tell his imaginary, happier version of the story to the people who use his taxi. When he picks up Dorothea O'Brien, though, she recognizes the falseness of his tale and shocks Stephen into moving past the events of that tragic day.
Dorothea herself is on a quest. Raised by her rich, ultra-protective father in a highly secretive estate (called the Sanctuary) in rural New Mexico, Dorothea has not seen the outside world in 19 years. Dressed in a long skirt and saddle shoes, Dorothea has never seen television or movies, or even many men besides her own eccentric father and her older brother Jimmy.
Dorothea has come to St. Louis searching for her brother, who seems to have disappeared off the face of the earth. After searching through St. Louis's seedier neighborhoods, Stephen and Dorothea discover Jimmy in a mental hospital. The young man has cut himself severely and is now making wild claims about their mother, who (according to their father) died when the children were young. Dorothea doesn't remember her mother at all, but Jimmy's vivid and troubling recollections of her death send the young woman on an odyssey to discover her past.
Lisa Tucker's third novel is not exactly a mystery, but her brilliant storytelling skills make for a novel rich in suspense. Flowing freely through time and place, told by a half-dozen different narrators, the novel unfolds gradually, revealing a portrait of a family torn apart and of a relationship based on a skewed understanding of love. As the book moves from past to present, we see the drastically different ways in which two very different men react to sudden tragedy, and we mourn along with the characters as we come to realize the scope of their losses.
ONCE UPON A DAY does find a measure of hope in the end but not before raising profound questions about the limits of love, the power of the past, and the capacity of the human heart to deal with profound tragedy.
--- Reviewed by Norah Piehl
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Q&A with Lisa Tucker
1. Do any of the characters in this book have a real-life inspiration? Please tell us how you arrived at these characters and how that led you to imagine their relationships.
Stephen was inspired by something that happened to me when I was in New York. I was on the way back to my hotel when the cab driver and I struck up a conversation. He told me that he was from Romania and had immigrated a decade before, that he loved New York, that he had two children, a wife, and a house in Queens. But then his voice became quiet as he told me that he was having some problems since 9/11. The World Trade Center attack had changed him, he said, and he didn't know what to do or how to change back. Then he looked in the rearview mirror and said flatly, "I've lost my hope." I didn't have a chance to say anything to him before we arrived at my hotel, where he picked up another fare and disappeared down the block. But I kept thinking about this man, wishing there was something I could have said. Wondering if there were any words powerful enough to help a person who'd lost his hope. All of this was still haunting me as I sat down and started writing the opening of the novel. As the story progressed, the other characters arrived the way they always do: as voices from another world with lots of secrets to tell me.
2. Music and film both play a significant role in this book and in your previous titles, THE SONG READER and SHOUT DOWN THE MOON. Were you listening to or watching anything while writing this story that you found particularly interesting? How do music and film factor into your own life?
Music is a big part of my life because I sing jazz and my husband is a keyboard player/composer. We're always listening to something: jazz of course, but also classical, alternative, rap, you name it. That said, I can't listen to music while I'm writing because it makes it too hard to hear the characters. I can't watch as many movies while I'm writing either, though sometimes I do watch at the end of the day, because it can be a relief to lose myself in someone else's story. Of all the movies mentioned in the book, the one I love most is They Might Be Giants. I saw it when I was a child and maybe fifteen times since; it's one of my all time favorites. The movie (based on a play) is about a man who thinks he's Sherlock Holmes. The title comes from a reference to Don Quixote: "Of course [Quixote] carried it a bit too far. He thought that every windmill was a giant. That's insane. But thinking that they might be..." Don Quixote is obviously important to Once Upon a Day --- and to me; I used a quote in my first novel too: "Too much sanity may be madness. And maddest of all, to see life as it is and not as it should be." I love this.
3. You seem to have a mixture of reverence and criticism for Hollywood. Is this true?
I know Charles feels this way, but I didn't agree with some of his criticisms. I enjoyed American Graffiti, for instance. It's always a little strange to hear one of the characters saying something that is against your own views. I did admire his speech when he won his screenwriting award: "The true obscenity is accepting the cynical view of what we're doing. Yes, movies are a business, but movies also represent the chance to communicate with the largest number of people in the history of the world...Let us be concerned about having something to say that enriches human life." Charles takes himself seriously (to put it mildly), but he also takes film seriously, and I like that. I feel the same way about books. The ones I love most are about all the serious things: love, family, how we should live, and what life really means.
4. How does your own childhood compare to that of Dorothea and Jimmy's? What are your parenting philosophies? Do you respect the Charles Keenan style, or take a more laissez-faire approach with your own son?
My childhood was about as different from Dorothea and Jimmy's as it is possible to be. My son's is a little closer; he calls me "OP Mom," where OP stands for overprotective. I think wanting to keep your children safe is normal and understandable, though obviously Charles takes it too far. He's so focused on protecting them that he completely fails to prepare them for living in the real world. I've tried to do that for my son, though I'm sure I've make mistakes. You'll have to ask him about that part...
5. Your narrative structure is rather unconventional, moving seamlessly from telling the story in first person through Dorothea to third person omniscient. How did you decide which scenes needed to be told from inside Dorothea's head and which needed a more detached vantage point?
Since most of the book is told from either Stephen's or Lucy's third person point of view, you could say that they are the main characters of the novel. Charles and Jimmy don't have their own chapters; Janice does but only as a commentator on Charles and Lucy, almost like the chorus in Greek plays. Which leaves Dorothea --- the only first person narrator in the bunch. Initially, I wanted Dorothea to be third person like everyone else, but whenever I tried to change her to third, it didn't work. I'm sure there's a reason for this, but it felt like I didn't decide, she did.
6. The therapist Tracey introduces a psychological term many readers may not have heard before, "symbolic violence." Can you explain what this means and where you first heard it? Do you think it's a real issue in our society?
I first heard of "symbolic violence" in film class, when I was an undergraduate at Penn. Unlike "real" violence, "symbolic" violence could include everything from verbal threats to violence in movies and on TV. Psychologically, it's often used to intimidate and bully someone into submission. I think symbolic violence is a real issue in this society, of course, though I also understand Lucy's reaction to what the psychologist says. Once you've experienced real violence, you know there's a big difference between what Charles does by keeping her from having any movie roles and what truly horrible people do, like the men who attacked her.
7. Which character's voice came most naturally to you as you were writing? Which one did you struggle with the most?
Stephen and Lucy came most naturally, probably because they're the characters most like me. Both are from Missouri, where I grew up; both have a straightforward way of thinking that makes me feel at home. I struggled the most with Dorothea's voice, since I had to be constantly aware of what she'd understand and what she wouldn't, given her odd upbringing.
8. Dorothea carries a verse in her shoe, taken from the FAERIE QUEEN: "Be bold, be bold, and every where Be Bold." Do you have any mementos or words of encouragement that you hold close to you?
Oh, yes, I clip out quotes constantly; you could even say I collect them. The one Dorothea puts in her shoe is something I came across in graduate school and used as inspiration to study for my exams. The two I have on my desk right now are: "It is in the knowledge of the genuine conditions of our lives that we must draw our strength to live and our reasons for living." (Simone de Beauvoir), and "Those whom books will hurt will not be proof against events. Events, not books, should be forbid." (Herman Melville)
9. The classic Charlotte Bronte novel, JANE EYRE, pops up more than once in this story. What is your connection to the text? What ties were you attempting to make to your own novel?
As odd as this sounds, I didn't realize there were so many connections between JANE EYRE and ONCE UPON A DAY until one of the blurbs pointed this out. JANE EYRE is very special to me, though. When I was in sixth grade, my teacher gave me a copy of the novel. It was the first book I didn't have to return to the library; I felt so privileged to own such a thick, grown-up-looking book. I read it so many times I started dreaming about Jane. I love the great passion in that novel, and I hope that's a connection to Once Upon a Day. The characters in JANE EYRE suffer so much, but they still believe in love and redemption. I tried to give my characters that belief, the same way I try to hold onto it myself.
10. With an intrepid young heroine named Dorothea, venturing far from home, one immediately recalls the character "Dorothy" from the WIZARD OF OZ. Was this a symbolic naming?
THE WIZARD OF OZ was part of my first novel; maybe it's the subtext for every American book that includes a journey to find your real home. I love that Dorothea's name made you think of Dorothy in Wizard. Now if only Charles had let them have a little dog. . .
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Chapter One
Stephen Spaulding was very happy, and you can't say that about most people. He hadn't sought happiness, but he recognized it. This was his gift: to know what he had.
When it was gone, of course he knew that too. He changed from a man who could smile at strangers first thing in the morning to a man who wouldn't look anybody in the eye. He'd lost his family in a freak accident, and the rest he let go of as easily as opening his hand and releasing a string of balloons. Good-bye to the family practice he had just started with two friends from his residency. Good-bye to the Victorian house he and Ellen had gone deeply into debt to buy when she got pregnant during his internship. Good-bye to the cradle and the tricycle and the pink and purple birthday party dress Lizzie never had a chance to wear.
More than a year later, he still hadn't adjusted to the way time itself had been altered. Before there was never enough time, and the list of things he and Ellen had not gotten around to doing was one of many things that still tortured him. The untaken trip to Paris bothered him less than the movies they'd talked about renting. Why hadn't they watched them? Ellen's entire list could be watched in a weekend. He knew this because he had done it, several times. He watched the movies his wife had wanted him to, and thought about what she would say if she were there. This was back in the early months, when he was trying to give her gifts, as though she could come back if only he worked harder to make her want this life.
After the accident, there was too much time. Each day stretched before him like a flat Kansas highway, the only landmarks the meals he forced himself to choke down, the few chores he performed, and the occasional walks he took, rarely noticing anything or anyone on his path. He finally bought the old green and white Checker cab not because he needed the income --- his compensation from the city would support him forever, especially since he had no desires, nothing he wanted now -- but because he could drive it as little or as much as he liked, sixteen hours a day, more if his insomnia was bad.
He wouldn't have sued, but the city gave him an enormous sum anyway. The newspaper headline called it a "regrettable tragedy." It was a Sunday in late July; the police were chasing a teenager who had stolen a rusted-out '84 Toyota from a neighbor's driveway. The car was worth less than five hundred dollars, but the patrol car that slammed into his family at the intersection had been going over eighty miles an hour. He was driving; Lizzie was in her booster seat in the back, behind Ellen. The teenage thief turned himself in when he heard what had happened. The policeman who was driving took early retirement.
And Stephen, the barely thirty-year-old family practice doc, became a cabbie. What difference did it make? His knowledge of how to heal bodies had done nothing for him anyway. His wife and four-year-old daughter had still died right in front of his eyes.
Now he was learning the quickest way to the airport from any street in St. Louis. How to slide around a bus, and when to change lanes so his customer would feel they were making progress. What times the restaurants and bars closed, and which of his regulars would be likely to drink one too many and need a ride on a Saturday night.
People often mentioned what a safe driver he was. The safest cab driver they'd ever ridden with. He nodded, but he didn't respond. He never drove without the radio playing. Talk show, pop music, news channel, it didn't matter. The radio was his excuse not to talk.
The only time he would answer was when a customer asked about the amusement park tickets. They didn't ask often, even though he'd had the tickets laminated and kept them displayed above the visor, right next to his license. Stephen wasn't surprised. He knew most people aren't interested in their cab drivers.
He wasn't surprised; still, he longed for the question. He longed for another opportunity to tell the whole story of that perfect July day at the amusement park: riding the water slides and the Ferris wheel and the child's roller coaster; eating hot dogs and ice cream -- mint chocolate chip, Ellen's favorite; trying to win a giant stuffed panda bear, and when he couldn't make the ring toss (a setup, he was sure), buying the bear for his daughter anyway.
Every time he told the story, he added a few more details. As the months went by, the story often filled the entire drive; sometimes he would still be talking while his customer was trying to hand him money and get away.
He knew he was going too far, but he couldn't help himself. Back at his apartment whenever he tried to think of that day he drew a blank. It was only in the cab, talking to strangers, that he seemed to be able to bring it all to life: the feel of the sun on the back of his hands and the bright drips of green falling off their cones onto the hot pavement and how awkward and adorable Lizzie looked that night, lugging the giant panda to their car.
He didn't realize how he'd begun to live for these discussions until a rainy morning in April, when they suddenly came to an end.
He'd picked up a girl at the bus station downtown. One of the weirdos, though this one wasn't pierced or tattooed or obviously strung out, but even more bizarre, naturally pale as a made-up Goth, but dressed like a throwback to the fifties: long flared black skirt, fluffy pink sweater, even the white ankle socks and saddle oxford shoes. Her hair was in a thick braid, twisted like some kind of tight crown on top of her head, and she was sitting up so straight she looked uncomfortable, eyes unblinking, small white hands folded carefully in her lap. Stephen had already put her out of his mind when she mentioned the tickets about ten minutes into the ride. But before he could tell her about the slides or the food or even the perfect weather that day, she noticed what no one else had: that the tickets weren't stubs.
"What happened?" she said. "Why didn't you ever use those?"
He flushed with a confusion that quickly turned to anger. It had taken him nearly a year to perfect the story of the amusement park -- for chrissakes, couldn't he have even this? He wasn't asking for all the days and hours and minutes he would have had with Ellen and Lizzie, he was just asking for one more day.
Stephen had been taking his family to the park when their car was broadsided. Lizzie had wanted to go all summer, and that day they had the tickets: they were really, finally going. All he had done in his story was change "were going" to "had gone." A mere verb shift, and yet it changed everything.
And now this strange girl in his cab was forcing him to change it back.
Her voice was entirely innocent. She had no idea what she'd taken from him. But then again, he had no idea what she was about to give.
Copyright ©2006 by Lisa Tucker
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