Vending Machines
A novel that takes place mostly within the mind of the narrator offers extensive opportunities for imagery. The reader needs to virtually “see” what the narrator is thinking or recalling. And since much of what the narrator is thinking about or recalling is couched in nostalgic recollection of things past which were at one time omnipresent and familiar but to the modern reader may already seem like something another time and place, imagery is especially vital:
“next to the Pepsi machine was a shorter cigarette machine, a holdover from the first great epoch of vending machines, unelectrified, making no change, functioning entirely with the aid of gravity and springs…two tiers of eleven clear plastic knobs (why eleven?); these you pulled on, exertina satisfying level of force, harder than you used in launching a pinball or playing Foosball, for instance, and it had a wide metal mouth where the chosen brand would slide partially into view.”
The Mezzanine
The mezzanine itself—the actual spatial area in which the present “action” of the story takes place—also becomes by virtue of its significance as setting as requisite for the use of imagery. Surprisingly, not a whole great deal of description is attended upon the setting from the narrative springs forth. But what is there provides enough to detail to make it vivid in the mind:
“The bench gave me a three-quarter view of my building: the mezzanine floor, a grid of dark green glass with vertical marble accents, was the last wide story before the façade angled in and took off, neck-defyingly, into a squint of blue haze. The building’s shadow had reached one end of my bench. It was a perfect day for fifteen minutes of reading.”
The Escalator
The interior thoughts of the narrator take place during a ride up the escalator from the lobby to the mezzanine floor of the office building where he works. One of the streamiest of the examples of stream-of-consciousness writing which characterizes the narration leads to a final explanation of the appeal of this particular means of mass transport:
“Other people remember liking boats, cars, trains, or planes when they were children…but I was more interested in systems of local transport…supermarket checkout conveyor belts, turned on and off like sewing machines by a foot pedal…the hanger management systems at the dry cleaner’s—sinuous circuits of rustling plastics…the barbecue chicken display at Woolworth’s that rotated whole orange-golden chickens on pivoting skewers…the escalator shared qualities with all of these systems, with one difference: it was the only one I could get on and ride.”
Footnotes
Generally speaking, a novel doesn’t contain footnotes. That is a literary tool almost always reserved for non-fiction and more often than not specifically for academic non-fiction. And if a novel does feature footnotes, it is not usually the section of the novel where a large percentage of imagery is engaged. Such is not the case here in which the footnotes differ in no substantial form or content from the narrative itself. And imagery can be found in healthy supply:
“People seem to raise their eyebrows whenever they bring something close to their faces. The first sip of a morning cup of coffee makes you raise your eyebrows; I have seen some individuals displace their entire scalp along with their eyebrows whenever they bring a forkful of food to their mouths...eyebrow-raising is a way of telling your brain not to activate the natural flinch reaction that the approach of moving objects near the face normally triggers.”
