by Nathan Hill
And the name registered somewhere deep down inside him and his face crumpled and he looked at her with anguish and despair. She went to him then and gathered his fragile body in her arms.
“It’s okay,” she said. “Don’t be sad.”
“I’m sorry,” he said, looking at her with an intensity unusual for a man who had spent his life avoiding the gaze of other people. “I’m so very sorry.”
“Everything turned out well. We all love you.”
“You do?”
“Everyone loves you so much.”
He looked at her very closely and studied her face a long time.
Fifteen minutes later the whole episode was lost. He caught himself in the middle of some story and looked at her pleasantly and said, “Now who are you, dear?”
But the moment seemed to shake something loose in him, seemed to uncork something important, because among the stories he’d tell now were stories of young Marthe, taking midnight strolls under a dimly lit sky, stories Faye had never heard before and stories that embarrassed the nurses because it was clear the walks were postcoital. Something seemed to lift inside him, some burden let go. Even the nurses said so.
So Faye is renting a small apartment close to the nursing home and each morning she walks over and spends the whole day with her father. Sometimes he recognizes her, but most of the time he doesn’t. He tells old ghost stories, or stories about the ChemStar factory, or stories of fishing the Norwegian Sea. And every once in a while he’ll see her and by the look on his face she understands that he’s really seeing Freya. And when this happens she soothes him and hugs him and tells him everything turned out well, and she describes the farm when he asks about it, and when she describes it she does so grandly—not just barley in the front yard but whole fields of wheat and sunflowers. He smiles. He’s picturing it. It makes him happy to hear this. It makes him happy when she says, “I forgive you. We all forgive you.”
“But why?”
“Because you’re a good man. You did the best you could.”
And it’s true. He did. He was a good man. As good a father as he could be. Faye had simply never seen it before. Sometimes we’re so wrapped up in our own story that we don’t see how we’re supporting characters in someone else’s.
So this is what she can do for him now, comfort him and keep him company and forgive and forgive and forgive. She cannot save his body or his mind, but she can lighten his soul.
They talk for a while and then he needs to nap, sometimes falling asleep mid-sentence. Faye reads while he sleeps, making her way once again through the collected poetry of Allen Ginsberg. And sometimes Samuel phones her, and when he does she’ll put the book away and answer his questions, all his big terrifying questions: Why did she leave Iowa? And college? And her husband? And her son? She tries to answer honestly and thoroughly, even though it’s frightening for her. It is literally the first time in her life she is not hiding some great piece of herself, and she feels so exposed that it’s close to panic. She has never before given herself over to anyone—she’d always parceled herself out little by little. This bit for Samuel, some small part for her father, barely anything for Henry. She’d never put all of herself in just one place. It felt too risky. Because her great and constant fear all these years was that if anyone ever came to know all of her—the real her, the true deep essential Faye—they would not find enough stuff there to love. Hers was not a soul large enough to nourish another.
But now she’s trusting Samuel with everything. She answers his questions. She holds nothing back. Even when her answers make the panic boil up within her—that Samuel will think she’s a terrible person, that he’ll stop calling—still she tells him the truth. And just when she thinks his interest in her must be exhausted, just when her answers prove that she’s a person unworthy of his love, what actually happens is quite the opposite. He seems more interested, calls more often. And sometimes he calls to talk—not about her ugly past but about how her day went, or about the weather, or the news. It makes her hope that someday soon they’ll be two people encountering each other sincerely, without the disfigurement of their history, minus all her immutable mistakes.
She’ll be patient. She knows she can’t force a thing like that. She’ll wait, and she’ll take care of her father, and she’ll answer her son’s many questions. And when Samuel wants to know her secrets, she’ll tell him her secrets. And when he wants to talk about the weather, she’ll talk about the weather. And when he wants to talk about the news, she’ll talk about the news. She flips on the television to see what’s happening in the world. Today it’s all about unemployment, global deleveraging, recession. People are panicked. Uncertainty is at an all-time high. A crisis is looming.
But Faye’s opinion is that sometimes a crisis is not really a crisis at all—just a new beginning. Because one thing she’s learned through all this is that if a new beginning is really new, it will feel like a crisis. Any real change should make you feel, at first, afraid.
If you’re not afraid of it, then it’s not real change.
So banks and governments are cleaning up their ledgers after years of abuse. Everyone owes too much, is the consensus, and we’re in for a few years of pain. But Faye thinks: Okay. That’s probably the way it ought to be. That’s the natural way of things. That’s how we’ll find our way back. This is what she’ll tell her son, if he asks. Eventually, all debts must be repaid.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
THE EVENTS of 1968 described in this novel are a blend of historical facts, eyewitness interviews, and the author’s imagination, ignorance, and fancy. For example, Allen Ginsberg attended the Chicago protests, but he was not a visiting professor at Circle. And Circle did not have dorms in 1968. And the Behavioral Science Building wasn’t opened until 1969. And my depiction of the Grant Park protest does not follow the exact chronological order of things. And so on. For more historically accurate accounts of the ’68 protests, I would recommend the following, which were invaluable to me during the writing of this novel: Chicago ’68 by David Farber; The Whole World Is Watching by Todd Gitlin; Battleground Chicago by Frank Kusch; Miami and the Siege of Chicago by Norman Mailer; Chicago 10 directed by Brett Morgen; Telling It Like It Was: The Chicago Riots edited by Walter Schneir; and No One Was Killed by John Schultz.
In addition, I am indebted to the following books for helping me to portray the time period in (I hope) a convincing way: Make Love, Not War by David Allyn; Young, White, and Miserable by Wini Breines; Culture Against Man by Jules Henry; 1968 by Mark Kurlansky; Dream Time by Geoffrey O’Brien; and Shards of God by Ed Sanders.
Some of the words given to Allen Ginsberg in this book were written by him first in his essays and letters, collected in Deliberate Prose: Selected Essays 1952–1995 edited by Bill Morgan, and in Journals: Early Fifties Early Sixties edited by Gordon Ball.
For the great Norwegian ghost stories, I am indebted to Folktales of Norway edited by Reidar Christiansen and translated by Pat Shaw Iversen. The nix is the Germanic name given to a ghost that, in Norway, would actually be called the nøkk.
My information about panic attacks comes from Dying of Embarrassment by Barbara G. Markway et al. and Fearing Others by Ariel Stravynksi. For insights regarding desire and frustration, I am indebted to Missing Out: In Praise of the Unlived Life by Adam Phillips.
For his research on the psychology and behavior of MMORPG players, I am grateful to Nick Yee and his Daedalus Project. My thinking about the four kinds of challenges in video games was aided by Phil Co’s Level Design for Games. Pwnage’s various brain disorders came from Nicholas Carr’s blog Rough Type and the article “Microstructure Abnormalities in Adolescents with Internet Addiction Disorder” by Kai Yuan et al., published in PLoS ONE, June 2011.
Feminine hygiene ads in Faye’s home ec classroom are from the website Found in Mom’s Basement at pzrservices.typepad.com/vintageadvertising. Certain Laura Pottsdam details were plucked from a couple of amazing calls to the Savage Lovecast by Dan Savage.
My description of the Molly Miller music video owes a debt to Andrew Darley’s Visual Digital Culture. Some information regarding Circle’s brutalist architecture comes from Andrew Bean’s Wesleyan University honors thesis, “The Unloved Campus: Evolution of Perceptions at the University of Illinois at Chicago.” The argument for a reproductive boycott is excerpted from an article in Ain’t I a Woman 3, no. 1 (1972). The letter to the editor that Faye reads in the Chicago Free Voice is excerpted from an unpublished letter to the Chicago Seed donated to the Chicago History Museum. Sebastian’s information about the maarr comes from Franca Tamisari’s “The Meaning of the Steps Is in Between: Dancing and the Curse of Compliments,” published in The Australian Journal of Anthropology, August 2000. Allen Ginsberg’s “Eat Mangoes!” story is from Teachings of Sri Ramakrishna.
Thank you to the staff at the Chicago History Museum for their assistance. For supporting revisions on this novel, a big thank-you to the Minnesota State Arts Board and the University of St. Thomas.
Thank you to my editor, Tim O’Connell, for his exceptional guidance in shaping the story, not to mention his Periwinkle-like enthusiasm and zeal. Thank you to all the great people at Knopf: Tom Pold, Andrew Ridker, Paul Bogaards, Robin Desser, Gabrielle Brooks, Jennifer Kurdyla, LuAnn Walther, Oliver Munday, Kathy Hourigan, Ellen Feldman, Cameron Ackroyd, Karla Eoff, and Sonny Mehta.
Thank you to my agent, Emily Forland, for her wisdom, patience, and good cheer. Thank you to Marianne Merola, and all the wonderful folks at Brandt & Hochman.
Thank you to my family, my friends, and my teachers for their love, kindness, generosity, and support. Thank you to Molly Dorozenski for her counsel after reading lengthy early drafts.
And finally, thank you to Jenni Groyon, my first reader, for helping me find the path through ten years of writing.
An Alfred A. Knopf Reading Guide
The Nix by Nathan Hill
The introduction, author biography, discussion questions, and suggested reading that follow are designed to enhance your group’s discussion of The Nix, the captivating debut novel by Nathan Hill.
Discussion Questions
1. Why do you think that the author chose to call his novel The Nix? What is a Nix according to folklore? How does the Nix function symbolically within the novel and which major themes of the novel does it help to facilitate or uncover? Who in the story believes himself or herself to be a Nix and why? Do you agree with that person? Why or why not?
2. At the beginning of the story, Faye reveals that she believes the things a person loves the most will ultimately hurt them the worst. Which events in her life may have caused her to adopt this point of view? Does the rest of the book seem to support this view of love or overturn it? Does Faye ever change her mind about this? Does her son, Samuel, share her view of love? Discuss.
3. Why does Faye leave her son, Samuel, and her husband? How does Samuel react to her departure, and what impact does this abandonment have on his life and development? What is it like when the two reunite? How does their relationship change over the course of the book, and what causes these changes? Do either of the characters seem to achieve catharsis? If so, how?
4. How do Faye’s parents react when she is accepted at the University of Illinois’s new Chicago Circle campus and tells them that she wants to attend? Why do you think that they have this reaction? How does Faye herself seem to feel about the prospect of leaving home? What helps her to make the final decision to go to Chicago, and why does her father tell her to never come back? Why do you think Faye refrains from addressing the misunderstanding that has caused so much strife between her and her parents?
5. Evaluate the treatment of women in the book. What kinds of experiences do the female characters share? How are they treated by the male? What do the men in the book think women should be like? Do the women meet these expectations or defy them? Explain. In the sections set in the 1960s and ’70s, how does feminism seem to impact the way that the women are perceived by those around them? How do they respond to these expectations and stereotypes? Is Faye’s experience similar to the experiences of the other women or very different? Discuss.
6. Compare and contrast the parent-child relationships in the book. How does Samuel and Faye’s relationship compare to Faye’s own relationship with her father, Frank? How well does each child know his or her parent? What prevents them from knowing this parent better? How do the relationships change over time, and what causes these changes? When considered together, what do these relationships suggest about the nature of the parent-child relationship in generals? Explain.
7. Evaluate the treatment of technology in the book. Is technology portrayed as a positive invention or a negative one? How does the characters’ use of technology affect their communication, their daily lives, and their development as people? Why are Samuel and Pwange especially addicted to Elfscape, and why does Pwange believe that Elfscape is more meaningful than the real world? What function or purpose does the game serve in their lives? What might this relationship reveal about contemporary life?
8. Consider the theme of the relationship between storytelling and point of view. What does the treatment of Faye’s story in the press reveal about this topic? Does the press, as depicted in the novel, provide fair and unbiased accounts of the news they report? What does the book also suggest about the publishing industry? Are the stories that each of the characters tells truthful and reliable? What does this information reveal about how we should approach storytelling as both storytellers and readers/listeners? Does the book ultimately suggest how we can best determine whether or not a source is reliable and a story is true?
9. Explore the motif of secrets. What are some of the secrets that the characters keep? Why do they keep these things secret? Do any of the characters ever reveal their secrets? If so, what is the outcome, and how are these secrets received? What do the responses to these reveals suggest about our fears of being known completely?
10. In the Choose-Your-Own-Adventure portion of the book, what choice does Samuel make when Bethany asks him if he can help her avoid her upcoming nuptials and invites him into her bedroom? Why does he make this choice? Do you believe it was the right choice? Why or why not? After some time passes, how does Samuel come to view his decision in that moment?
11. Evaluate the theme of shame. What causes the various characters in the novel to feel shame? How does the prevalence of this feeling impact their lives, the people they become, and the life choices they make? Do any of the characters overcome their feelings of shame? If so, how do they accomplish this?
12. Consider the portrayal of suburban middle-class living in the novel. How did industry affect and shape American life? What clues can we find in descriptions of the landscape? Does the book suggest whether industry provided a happier or better existence for families? For instance, is Frank living a better life because of his willingness to leave his home in Norway? What would you say the novel ultimately suggests about progress and the American dream?
13. What kinds of stories does Frank share with his daughter, Faye, as she is growing up? What effect do these stories have on her? Why do you think that she chooses to share these tales with her own son? What seems to be the purpose of telling these stories? What lessons or messages do the stories contain?
14. When Faye reaches Norway, how does what she finds compare to what her father had shared with her about his home and his past? Who is Freya, and how does Faye’s knowledge of who Freya is affect the way that she relates to and understands her father? How does the trip to Norway ultimately affect Faye’s relationship with her father and with Samuel?
15. Many of the characters in the book engage in some type of art. What role or purpose does art seem to fulfill in their lives? Why does Samuel decide to become a novelist? What does he hope that his book The Nix will achieve?
16. Evaluate the theme and motif of protest. In addition to the protests that Faye takes part in as a young woman, Samuel attends a protest with Bethany and serves
as a witness to other protests. What are some of the causes that the characters protest? What happens at the protests? Are they successful? What do you think Walter Cronkite meant when he observes that maybe the story isn’t the people protesting but the people who are not? Does the book ultimately portray protest as a valuable pursuit or a futile one? What seems to be the purpose of protest? Discuss.
17. Why does Judge Charlie Brown take on the case against Faye? How do the two know each other? Does Judge Brown get the outcome he desires? Why or why not? What does Brown’s character suggest about fairness and justice in the world?
18. Who is Sebastian? How does Faye meet Sebastian, and why is she initially drawn to him? What is her reaction to the revelation of his true identity? What does Faye recognize as their common bond?
19. Consider the collective view of America that the novel offers. What does this America look like? Would you say that is an accurate portrayal? Why or why not? How does the author use comedy and the absurd to pose truths about the cultural and political landscape? Alternatively, how does he employ elements of tragedy to accomplish this? Does one method seem to be more successful in accomplishing this than the other? Explain.
20. In addition to the story of the Nix, another recurring tale in the novel is the parable of the elephant. What is the lesson in this parable, and what does it reveal about the true self? How might this message or way of looking at things shape your own understanding of and response to the characters in the book?
21. At the end of the book, Faye thinks: “Something does not have to happen for it to feel real” (581). What do you think she means by this? What might her statement suggest about the past, memory, imagination, and regret?
Further Reading
Attenberg, Jami. The Middlesteins
Bechdel, Alison. Are You My Mother?