Side-Stepping Normativity in Selected Short Stories by Sylvia Townsend Warner. Rebecca K. Hahn

Gibbie takes pleasure in Bruno’s body. It does not, however, define their relationship. Under the Sexual Offences Act of 1967, for instance, Bruno’s description of his and Gibbie’s relationship – despite the fact he is 19, and not, as required by law, 21 – could not count as an offence. From this moment on, Hector becomes infatuated with Bruno:

      He [Hector] fastened on him [Bruno] with a child’s imperative wooing. Bruno would have preferred figs and time in his own company, but companionship was forced upon him. They bathed together and sailed paper boats down the burn – Hector taught him how to make them; they climbed trees, explored about in the car, built a grotto, sat in the dank seclusion of the game larder telling ghost stories to an accompaniment of the steadfast buzzing of bluebottles worshipping without; they carved their initials on trees, went out at dawn to pick mushrooms, fled from hornets, swore eternal secrecies, competed, leaning toward each other till they became almost of an age. (78)

      Hector effectively courts Bruno. Although Bruno is not interested in spending time with Hector at first – he would have preferred to spend time alone in the kitchen garden – he soon gives in. Metaphorically, the figs stand for the sexual pleasures he would have enjoyed in the garden. Quite obviously, the long list of activities Bruno and Hector undertake together indicate that they are both infatuated by each other’s company. It is so full of romantic suggestions that it almost becomes comical. Only the last part of the sentence, “leaning toward each other till they became almost of an age”, sounds sincere, suggesting that Bruno and Hector are very well attuned to each other. It is revealing that the description of their shared intimacies and activities is extremely detailed and stands in stark contrast to the veiled description of their first outing to the walled garden. Returning to the Sexual Offences Act of 1967, the description of Hector and Bruno’s relationship vividly demonstrates that desire goes beyond the reality of the law. That is, although the reader gathers that something happened, or rather, is happening, between Hector and Bruno, the story suggests that, whatever it is, the language of the law does not suffice to classify it a punishable offence.

      The first section of the chapter examined the occurrence of heteronormative expectations and unkempt bodies in the short story. Throughout his life, one of the main characters, Gibbie has been confronted with people, his mother and then Bruno, who expect him to conform to their norms. However, rather than giving in to their demands, he gradually becomes indifferent to them. Without paying much attention to anyone else, he continues to lead the life of his choice. The only person who has some influence on Gibbie is Henryson – at least for a short time. Under Henryson’s influence, Gibbie seeks to act like a proper landowner. However, as Bruno thinks to himself, “Gibbie would tire of being at the beck and call of this malodorous man [Henryson] […]” (“Bruno” 68). Bruno knows that Gibbie will soon abandon this new way of life, just as he had done in the past. This section underpins the fact that while the story revolves around the heteronorm it does not confirm or oppose it. The second section analysed the representation of the walled kitchen garden. Here, the level of indifference is reflected on a more abstract level. The narrator hints at the fact that Bruno and Hector shared some kind of sexual experience, however, there is no indication of what really took place. The story does not categorise their desires and does not seek to explain them by reducing them to any kind of norm.

      In reply to Warner’s letter, in which she reflects on the way she devised the characters in “Bruno”, Maxwell writes,

      ‘Bruno’ isn’t right for The New Yorker. It is beautifully written, but it has a curious quality; you give your sympathy to the characters, each in turn, and then withdraw it. As if in the end you had come to dislike them all impartially. Which is perhaps the case, and your intention. (Steinman 180)

      Maxwell suspects that most readers will not enjoy reading a story that leaves them baffled and, ultimately, at a loss. The “curious quality” that he mentions results from the fact that the narrator does not offer any insight into the main characters’ thoughts and feelings, and remains dispassionate to the end.