#eugene garber

Strange Appetites: Letter from Mentor

Nearly 30 years after I earned my doctorate in creative writing and pedagogy, I sent my published books to one of my mentors from graduate school, Eugene Garber (University at Albany). It’s hard to convey how much this means to me without relating how stormy my relationship to writing has been. But in the interests of brevity, I’ll simply share the letter/review. Lale, The books have arrived.…

“Somewhere between the Mississippi River and the river Platte, Whitcomb, who has been dozing lightly, awakens to the sound of the cockpit door closing. She looks up just in time to see the flight attendant stride past her down the aisle. She notes that the flight attendant’s helmet is snapped tight under the chin and that the goggles are down over her eyes. The flight attendant marches straight back to the tail hatch, opens it, crouches low like a gymnast, and hurls herself out. For a long moment, while Whitcomb and the fat man stare back in amazement, there is a loud sucking sound and everything in the cabin shudders. Then the air catches the hatch and slams it shut with a resounding clank.

“Whitcomb looks out the window. Beneath the plane, in the silver moonlight, the parachute bobs and drifts like a lily on a breezy pond. Whitcomb imagines lying on top of it, sinking into its silken folds, and looking up at the chinless smile of the Man in the Moon.”

—Eugene Garber, “Flight”