Many thanks to everyone for your efforts, praise, doubts, and attentiveness. This has been intriguing.
A few general remarks. There are only four people in this sonnet. Annette and her husband, and “I” and “you” [the last two are obviously “we”]. However, there are two removes from reality: that “I” dreams she wrote this, ie it’s not merely a dream but a dream of having written (perhaps made up, perhaps not) something. This is intentional and, as Cathy says, oneiric and another facet of film noir as well.
“I” either dreams she was or dreams that she writes she was (the reader doesn't know whether she
was) Annette’s neighbor, and L3 is spoken by
I's lover in the dream, who seems also to be “you” in the sestet.
The pronunciation of L3 is common in NY, and Quincy tells me it’s common in Oklahoma as well:
he NEver COULD hold ON to a PARKing SPACE.
It surprised me that anyone had trouble with it. (Though now it seems that comment, by whomever, has been deleted.)
I don’t pretend to be workshopping this, and doubt that I’ll make any changes. I was happy to have it published in
The Threepenny Review, needless to say, and thought it would be fun to enter it in a Bake-Off where many wouldn’t remember it or would never have seen it. It's my first time entering the Sphere's Sonnet Bake-Off.
I agree with Mr. Cassity that
even in West Texas Annette may be having more fun. Does anyone have fun in West Texas? I’ve heard they do. But it ain’t that hard to have fun, and definitions vary.
Cathy, you got it right of course. And I’m especially pleased you get the humor, absurdist/noirish as it may be. The five adjectives you give work fine for me as a description, though often film noir commentary mentions the existence of a femme fatale--not the pop/cartoon version of such a woman but something far more subtle. I can't say there's a femme fatale in this poem, but perhaps it sets up a backstory for the creation of one.
Here's a little tangent on women in film noir, re
Into the Past with Robert Mitchum:
<I>Jane Greer was the “real deal”, unlike many of the frivolous noir semi-goddesses (Lauren Becall, Martha Vickers, Jane Russell, or Laraine Day), her sexiness was derived from sheer cunning. She did not rely on the parodistic flirtations so common to the counterfeits of the genre—while entertaining actresses, they lacked the appeal and darkness of the authentic femme fatale. A fine actress, I’ve always wondered why Greer did not become an icon of the genre in the mold of Gloria Grahame or Lizabeth Scott. She possessed the perfect on-screen persona of a post-war desolation angle. When Robert Mitchum firsts encounters her in the Mexican café, in an early scene from Out of the Past, she describes the complete night spot where he might feel more at home, and as she turns to walk away she tells him, “I sometimes go there”. At that moment we sense the hero’s ultimate calamity. Later we witness her brutally kill two men, and as Mitchum watches in terror, we cannot be confident that in the end he will not wind with her, such is the power of her sexuality.</I>
That’s from
http://www.moderntimes.com/palace/film_noir/index.html
I would disagree that Mitchum is "in terror" when he sees Greer kill anyone. I wrote more here but deleted it b/c you need to see the film to understand and anything about the end is a spoiler.
Alicia, what can I say? I’m delighted to see your generous thoughts, and special thanks for suggesting this seems to be part of a series. In fact I started working on that possibility, and you reminded me that had been in the back of my mind. You're intuitive as well as intellectually formidable.
Kevin, glad you found something to love.
David, perhaps the final line is more sinister than you think! More later on this.
Nemo, interesting comments. Not sure why you say the subject matter—possible brutality, possible murder, subtle threats—is mundane though. Yes, film noir’s narrative is usually fractured somehow, and who knows? Perhaps more sonnets will experiment with that possibility.
Wendy, we’ve talked about this since your post, so no need to repeat here.
Shaun, see my words to Nemo, and yes, it’s obscure in a sense, but not to everyone. Sometimes obscurity is exciting, sometimes it’s boring. I guess for you and Nemo it was boring in this case. The word “obscurity” even obscures itself at times!
Michael, I’m sorry you had trouble figuring out who was doing what to or with whom. Perhaps my comments here will help, I don’t know.
Kevin, special thanks to you too for the evocative thoughts. Interesting suggestion that the “inanition” line is a throwaway. It suggests a serious crime has been committed. Or the man is starved for love. Or both.
I’ll add that “He never could hold on to a parking space” is absurdist first, metaphorical second, and noir third. And for me the final line is even more of a nod to the noir genre than the previous line. How could they not need a car, living in Malibu? Or most places for that matter. The irony is he’s trying to reassure her and by so doing is alarming her. Only when she’s dead, she may feel, will she not need a g.d. car!
Petra, delightful comments, and I laughed at your take on the plot—not b/c it can’t be true, but b/c it could.
David, could be, could be.
Lance, that’s amazing. I’ve never heard of anyone who did that.
Alex, see above re L3 & pronunciation. Killing someone for a beat-up Lexus—funny—but then people have been murdered for less, as we both know.
Rose, maybe…maybe. I’ll resist teasing you. We’re all so serious here.
Janet, sorry you were irritated! Hope you will see lots of good film noir. I’ll resist teasing you as well…
Chris, see above (general remarks) re the characters. Special thanks too for saying “It doesn't say too much though, and gets some points for that.” I know exactly what you mean.