Chapter 3 — Teaching Companion

What it asks It asks what the one limit on Cyrus’s stories says about him. His stories grow until “At the very first he knew he was lying, but it was not long before he was equally sure that every one of his stories was true.” Then: “There was one thing Cyrus did not do, and perhaps it was clever of him. He never once promoted himself to noncommissioned rank.” It made him “the most mobile and ubiquitous private in the history of warfare,” and his family saw “a private soldier, and proud of it.” He also “felt a man should learn soldiering from the ranks, as he had.” The student weighs cunning against belief. The question feeds the hinge: the son Cyrus says he loves better is the son he means to send into those ranks. The card must not say where Cyrus’s later standing comes from; the chapter shows his writing and his G.A.R. post, nothing more.

One reading

Cunning. The narrator offers this reading himself. “No one now outside of the War Department knew the quality and duration of his service,” and a private is one face among thousands. An officer at every battle would be noticed and caught. Staying low keeps the lie safe, and it works: no one can call him a liar.

• There was one thing Cyrus did not do, and perhaps it was clever of him.
• No one could call him a liar.

Another reading

Belief. The rank is the one thing in the stories Cyrus holds sacred. He is a private “and proud of it,” and he thinks a man must learn soldiering from the bottom. Later he tells Adam that men who go down into the common company can rise higher than they were. To promote himself would spoil the one thing he truly values.

• a private soldier, and proud of it
• He felt a man should learn soldiering from the ranks, as he had.

Listen for

• Hears the narrator’s two hedges, “perhaps it was clever of him” and “perhaps instinctively,” and notices that he never settles whether Cyrus guards his stories by plan or by instinct.
• Enjoys the joke in “ubiquitous”: staying a private forces Cyrus to be “in as many as four places at once.”
• Links the private in the stories to the plan for his sons, who must also start in the ranks.
• Asks whether a man can be cunning and sincere in the same lie, since Cyrus first “knew he was lying” and then believed every word.

If stuck

• What rank does Cyrus give himself in his stories, and where does he put himself?
• Why, according to the narrator, could no one call Cyrus a liar?
• Where does Cyrus think a man has to learn soldiering?

A strong answer A strong response gives a reason for the one limit and finds it on the page. One reader calls it cunning, as the narrator half suggests with “perhaps it was clever of him”: a private cannot be checked, so the stories stay safe. Another calls it belief: Cyrus is “proud of it,” and he wants his sons made from the ranks as he was. The best answers notice that the narrator lets both stand, and ask whether Cyrus’s love for Adam is built the same way, half story and half conviction.

What it asks It asks what a single smile means in the Trask house. Alice’s “mouth was trained to a line that concealed nothing and offered nothing too.” Adam slips away to the stump: “For Alice had been naked—she had been smiling. He wondered how she had dared such wantonness.” Then the narrator names what is in Adam’s ache: “all the long lack of holding, of rocking, of caressing,” and “the voice-tone of love and compassion,” which he could not miss “because he did not know that such things existed.” The student decides whether the shock comes from the house or from the boy. The card must not say what Alice is thinking when she smiles; the page gives only that “she permitted her mind to play in a garden.”

One reading

Because of the house. In this house feeling is kept covered, like a body. Cyrus runs it like a camp, and Alice has made herself a rear rank private whose face gives nothing away. A smile is the one time she shows a self of her own. To see it is to see her bare, and Adam is shocked at her daring.

• Her mouth was trained to a line that concealed nothing and offered nothing too.
• He wondered how she had dared such wantonness.

Another reading

Because of Adam. The narrator tells us what was in his passion: the holding and rocking he never had and does not know exist. The smile shows him, for one moment, a warmth that has never been turned on him. What shocks him is his own hunger, met all at once.

• all the long lack of holding, of rocking, of caressing
• he did not know it because he did not know that such things existed, so how could he miss them?

Listen for

• Notices the narrator saying the same thing twice, “naked” and “smiling,” and taking the comparison seriously.
• Hears “wantonness,” a hard word for a smile, and asks whose word it is: Adam’s or the house’s.
• Notices that Adam checks his own eyes before he trusts them: “Twisted light could do one or the other but not both.”
• Links the smile to the gifts that follow, where it “flashed and disappeared the way a trout crosses a knife of sunshine in a pool”: Adam pays for it, and never says so.

If stuck

• What does Alice’s face usually look like?
• Where does Adam go right after he sees the smile?
• What does the narrator say Adam was missing without knowing it?

A strong answer A strong response explains the shock from the page. One reader puts it in the house: Alice’s mouth is “trained” to show nothing, so a smile is as private as a body, and Adam wonders how she “dared.” Another puts it in Adam: the narrator lists the holding and rocking he never had, and the smile is the first sight of it. The best answers see that both point to the same lack, and carry it forward to the gifts Adam hides for her.

What it asks It asks the student to read one calm word after a violent scene. Before this evening Charles “fought any boy who challenged or slurred Adam,” and he “protected Adam from his father’s harshness with lies and even with blame-taking.” But his feeling was “a protective contempt,” “the affection one has for helpless things.” Adam wins four times, then a fifth, and “The hatred in Charles’ face frightened him.” After the beating: “Charles had one great quality. He was never sorry—ever.” And “Charles was not sorry. He had very simply fulfilled himself.” The student names the self that the beating completed. The card must not make Charles sorry, and must not make him a born villain: the hinge names his care for Adam as the part a hurried reader drops.

One reading

The winner. Charles has “the competitor’s will to win over others.” He won so easily that he had to find rivals elsewhere. The first time Adam beats him, the self that has to come first takes over. Fulfilled here means finished, made whole: Charles did what that will demanded, and felt no need to be sorry.

• the competitor’s will to win over others, which makes for success in the world
• And Charles was a man, and a dangerous man, even at fifteen

Another reading

The protector. Charles loved Adam as one loves “helpless things,” and that love needs Adam to stay helpless. A brother who wins at games no longer needs defending. The bat puts things back as they were, and it works: Adam never wins again. What Charles fulfilled was his place as the strong one.

• Charles felt for his brother the affection one has for helpless things, for blind puppies and new babies.
• But Adam made very sure that he didn’t win again—at anything.

Listen for

• Notices that “fulfilled” is a word for completion, not for rage, and that the narrator says it flatly.
• Notices that the hatred shows in Charles’s face after Adam’s fifth hit, before Charles swings and misses.
• Hears Adam’s lame “I guess it was just an accident” as one more thing he hides.
• Sets the narrator’s verdict beside Cyrus’s later one: things in Charles “must be chained down, not let loose.”

If stuck

• How had Charles treated Adam before this evening?
• What does Adam make sure of after the beating?
• What kind of love is “the affection one has for helpless things”?

A strong answer A strong response names the self and shows it on the page. One reader says it is the winner, the “will to win over others” that cannot let Adam come first even at a game. Another says it is the protector, whose care depended on Adam being helpless and who restored that order with a bat. The best answers keep both his earlier care and his lack of sorrow in view, and ask whether this brother’s love and his violence come from the same place.

What it asks It asks what Adam offers when he hands over his oldest secret. On the walk Cyrus “was deeply moved and he spoke as he had never spoken before,” even admitting “I don’t know.” Adam has said twice that he does not want to go into the army. Then Cyrus turns into the woodlot, and Adam says: “You see that stump there, sir? I used to hide between the roots on the far side. After you punished me I used to hide there, and sometimes I went there just because I felt bad.” Cyrus answers that he found it long ago and never came looking: “Always you must leave a man one escape before death.” The student stands inside Adam at that moment. The card should keep Cyrus’s answer in view, since the hinge warns against making him a simple tyrant.

One reading

A gift in return. Cyrus has just spoken to Adam as never before, and Adam pays for what moves him, the way he paid for Alice’s smile with hidden presents. The stump is the one thing he has to give. It is the closest he comes to telling his father he loves him.

• Cyrus was deeply moved and he spoke as he had never spoken before.
• he was inclined to pay for his pleasure with something

Another reading

A plea. What he gives is the truth of how he felt. Cyrus has just told him the army will strip off “any little dignity you have.” Adam cannot challenge his father, so he shows him the place he went when he “felt bad.” It is as near as he can come to saying how frightened he is, and soon after he dares to say more.

• “I don’t want to do it,” said Adam.
• sometimes I went there just because I felt bad

Listen for

• Notices that it is Cyrus who turns into the woodlot, and asks whether he led Adam there.
• Hears what Cyrus’s answer reveals: he found the place “because I felt the kind of place you would need,” and left it alone.
• Weighs “Always you must leave a man one escape before death”: a kindness, or a trainer’s rule for how hard to press.
• Notices that Adam goes on to speak up about Charles, and asks whether the stump gave him the nerve.

If stuck

• What did Adam use the stump for?
• What had Cyrus just told Adam about the army?
• What does Cyrus’s answer show he knew all along?

A strong answer A strong response stands inside Adam and gives a reason from the walk. One reader says the stump is a gift, Adam’s way of answering a father who has just spoken to him as never before. Another says it is a plea from a boy who has twice said he does not want to go. The best answers bring in Cyrus’s reply, which turns the moment around: the father knew the hiding place and chose to leave it alone, and the student has to decide what kind of care that was.

What it asks It asks what the knife stands for in Charles’s mind. His rage starts with the walk: “I saw him leaning close, talking the way he talks to men—not telling, talking.” Then: “You’re trying to take him away!” Only then the birthday: “Where’s that knife? Do you ever see him use it? Did he give it to you? I never even saw him hone it. Have you got that knife in your pocket? What did he do with it?” Adam’s gift, a pup from the woodlot, “sleeps in his room.” The student explains why Charles pictures his own gift in his brother’s pocket. The card must not make Charles a born villain: his rage is about a gift, and he once protected Adam “with lies and even with blame-taking.”

One reading

Because everything goes to Adam. As Charles sees it, their father’s care runs one way. Adam got the walk and the close talk, and Adam’s pup sleeps in Cyrus’s room. Charles even thinks Adam is “trying to take him away.” If all of the father’s love ends up with Adam, why not the knife too? The knife stands for the love Charles tried to buy and thinks his brother was handed.

• You’re trying to take him away!
• Have you got that knife in your pocket?

Another reading

He is not really asking. The questions come too fast to answer, and Adam knows that in a rage Charles “would not listen, would not even hear.” What set him off was the walk he watched that afternoon. The knife comes later, a charge to throw at Adam, a reason found for a rage that was already there.

• I saw you walking together.
• for once in rage his brother would not listen, would not even hear

Listen for

• Notices that Charles fires one question after another about the knife and never waits for an answer.
• Notices that Charles says “Thanks” twice, and that the second time he speaks in a whisper, the sign Adam has learned to fear.
• Notices that Cyrus trains the pup as he trained his sons, and asks what that makes the pup.
• Keeps to the page: the birthday comes to us only through Charles, in a rage.

If stuck

• What did each brother give Cyrus for his birthday?
• What did Charles see from a distance that afternoon?
• What does Charles say Adam is trying to do?

A strong answer A strong response explains the question from Charles’s own words. One reader says Charles believes everything their father values ends up with Adam, the walk, the close talk, the pup in his room, so his own gift must have gone there too, and the knife stands for the love he tried to buy. Another says Charles is not really asking: his questions come too fast to answer, and the knife is a charge for a rage that began when he watched the walk. The best answers notice that Charles never says the word love, and that Adam will say it for him later that night.

What it asks It asks why, on the worst night of his life, Adam’s mind goes to his brother. In the cool water: “He wondered how his brother felt, wondered whether now that his passion was chilling he would feel panic or sorrow or sick conscience or nothing. These things Adam felt for him. His conscience bridged him to his brother and did his pain for him the way at other times he had done his homework.” Early on, the narrator said of Adam’s feeling for Charles that “love, affection, empathy, were beyond conception.” And at peewee, the evening of the bat, Adam forgot to “watch and feel out his brother’s mood.” The student explains where Adam’s attention goes and what that says about him. The card must not say Charles feels any of it; the chapter says he was “never sorry—ever.”

One reading

Love, whatever Adam would call it. He feels his brother’s guilt from the inside, the very empathy the narrator said was beyond him. The beating has not cut the bridge between the brothers. It has shown that it was there.

• His conscience bridged him to his brother
• These things Adam felt for him.

Another reading

Habit, the way he has always stayed safe. Adam has spent his life reading Charles’s moods, and on the evening he forgot to, the bat came. He did his brother’s homework, and now he does his brother’s conscience. Watching and serving the stronger boy is how he gets by, and nothing here proves the narrator’s first verdict wrong.

• he did not watch and feel out his brother’s mood as he usually did
• did his pain for him the way at other times he had done his homework

Listen for

• Sets the ditch beside the narrator’s earlier line that love and empathy were “beyond conception.”
• Notices the list “panic or sorrow or sick conscience or nothing,” with “nothing” last.
• Hears “homework,” a small schoolroom word in a scene of near murder.
• Keeps to the page: Adam feels these things for Charles, and the chapter never says Charles feels them.

If stuck

• What does Adam wonder about Charles while he lies in the water?
• At peewee, what did Adam forget to do that he usually did?
• Earlier, how did Adam see his brother: as someone like himself, or as something else?

A strong answer A strong response explains where Adam’s mind goes, and why, from the page. One reader calls it love, the empathy the narrator once ruled out, now shown in a ditch: his conscience “bridged him to his brother.” Another calls it an old habit of watching and serving, the mood-reading that keeps him safe and the conscience done like homework, which leaves the narrator’s first verdict standing. The best answers notice that whatever it is runs one way only, from Adam to Charles, and carry that into the bedside scene that follows.

What it asks It asks the student to judge the chapter’s last silence. Alice found “two cinnamon pinks, a bluebird’s tailfeather, half a stick of green sealing wax, a stolen handkerchief,” and “She asked no questions and made no comment.” Now, patting Adam’s cuts, she takes up what he told Cyrus: “He doesn’t think his father loves him. But you love him—you always have.” Then: “For a long time he has given me little presents, pretty things you wouldn’t think he’d even notice. But he doesn’t give them right out. He hides them where he knows I’ll find them.” The chapter ends: “She smiled at Adam and he closed his eyes.” The student builds a thesis, meets the strongest objection, and revises. The card must not say what Cyrus does with the shotgun, and must not make Charles sorry.

One reading

For Charles. Adam has just told his father that Charles “doesn’t think you love him.” Alice now tells Adam that he has always loved his brother, and her praise is the one bit of love in the house pointed at Charles. Correcting her would take it away. Adam does for his brother what his conscience did in the ditch: he carries what Charles cannot.

• He doesn’t think you love him.
• But you love him—you always have.

Another reading

For himself. The gifts were always meant to stay hidden, because the smile came only when Alice thought no one saw. To claim them now would mean saying he spied on her. In this house open feeling is dangerous, and Adam keeps his treasure where he always has. He is also too battered to explain anything.

• Adam concealed his treasure deep in his tunnels
• He felt that he could not answer any questions, because he did not know any answers

Listen for

• Notices that the smile Adam once spied on is now turned on him openly, and that it comes with praise for Charles.
• Notices that Alice “continued Adam’s sentence,” taking his answer to Cyrus and turning it toward love.
• Asks whether the silence is generosity, fear or exhaustion, and whether the page lets you pull them apart.
• Revises by asking whom the silence serves, since Charles is not in the room to hear the thanks.

If stuck

• Who left the presents for Alice, and what did she do when she found them?
• What did Adam tell Cyrus when he was asked why Charles did it?
• What would Adam have to explain if he told Alice the truth?

A strong answer A strong response states why Adam stays silent, answers the strongest objection, and revises. One thesis says he does it for Charles: Alice’s thanks is the only love in the house now aimed at the brother who “doesn’t think you love him,” and Adam will not take it away. The strongest objection is that Adam has always hidden what he feels, and that claiming the gifts would expose the smile he spied on, so the silence keeps his own secret. A good revision might hold that in this house the two cannot be separated: Adam gives his brother something only by keeping himself hidden. Another might argue that the closed eyes are less a choice than a refusal to see the smile land on the wrong boy.

What it asks It asks the chapter’s whole question. At the kitchen stoop Cyrus tells Adam: “You’re not clever. You don’t know what you want. You have no proper fierceness.” Then: “I love you better. I always have. This may be a bad thing to tell you, but it’s true. I love you better. Else why would I have given myself the trouble of hurting you?” Adam had just said of Charles: “You never punished him, you let him live his life, you praised him, you did not haze him, and now you let him stay out of the army.” That night Charles, who once took blame for Adam, beats him over a knife: “And that’s the last I heard of a pearl-handled German knife that cost six bits.” Asked why, Adam says only, “He doesn’t think you love him.” The student builds a thesis, meets the strongest objection, and revises. The card must not say what Cyrus does with the shotgun, must not make Charles sorry, and must not read the brothers as a retelling of any older story.

One reading

Love does it. Cyrus’s love for Adam comes as drills, knapsacks of stones and a plan to send him to the army, and by his own account the hurting is the proof. That same love is what Charles sees on the walk and cannot bear. The violence in this house starts from a love that is real and badly given.

• Else why would I have given myself the trouble of hurting you?
• I saw him leaning close, talking the way he talks to men—not telling, talking.

Another reading

Its lack does it. Charles goes unloved, or believes he does: his knife gets one word while Adam’s pup sleeps in his father’s room. Adam grew up without holding or rocking. The damage comes from what was held back. Cyrus says “I love you better” to the son he calls a weakling, and the chapter never shows him saying anything like it to Charles.

• And that’s the last I heard of a pearl-handled German knife that cost six bits.
• He doesn’t think you love him.

Listen for

• Notices that Cyrus lists Adam’s failings before he says “I love you better,” and asks what kind of love comes wrapped that way.
• Hears the echo between Cyrus’s “I always have” and Alice’s “you always have.”
• Weighs Charles’s earlier care for Adam, “with lies and even with blame-taking,” against the bat and the hatchet.
• Revises toward the view that one son’s love is the other son’s lack, so the two answers may name one thing.

If stuck

• What does Cyrus say just before “I love you better”?
• According to Adam, what has Charles had from his father that Adam has not?
• Is anyone in this house loved well?

A strong answer A strong response takes a side, answers the strongest objection, and revises. One thesis says love does the damage: Cyrus hurts Adam on purpose and calls it proof, and his close talk with Adam is what sets Charles off on the dark road. The strongest objection is that Charles never gets that love, only “Thanks,” and Adam never got the holding the narrator names, so the damage grows from lack. A good revision might argue that in the Trask house love is handed out unequally, so one son’s plenty is the other’s want, and the two answers describe one wound. Another might hold that Cyrus’s love is real but cannot be read, by Charles, by Alice, even by Adam, and that the damage comes from love no one can read.