“True Believer,” published by the Livingston Press, is an unusual book in several ways. There are 74 “stories,” each one a single paragraph centered on the page like a poem. The shortest story is only 6 lines long. The longest is 18.
These are not conventional narratives, with description and dialogue. They are snapshots, vignettes. They capture a moment or a memory, and immediately reminded me of the early version of Hemingway’s 1924 booklet, “in our time”—lower case.
There were only 18 pieces and, in those stories, and in the longer ones that filled out “In Our Time,” upper case, 1925, he was still under the influence of the primer for new reporters at the “Kansas City Star” where he had worked. It commanded: use short sentences. Use short first paragraphs. Use vigorous English. Avoid all unnecessary adjectives.
Later, Hemingway would develop a parallel theory, his “iceberg theory.” Only a fraction of the story need be visible, on the page. The parts of the story left out will strengthen it, as the reader provides it from what is there.
These precepts clearly dominate “True Believer,” with one big addition: the stories are linked to create a fictional biography of a man named Richard. Richard is 92, in a nursing home. He has served in the military, in wartime, is mostly deaf, has had a stroke and somewhat recovered.
Richard was a very active person, a skier and hiker, but is now somewhat feeble, needs help walking. He does not remember everything, but what he remembers he writes down. Some of his stories are boyhood adventures and memories: first love, courtship, the “first time,” summer camp, the Army, childhood pets.
Richard has an identical twin named Bob. They are dressed alike, sound alike; they attend college together. His parents, a few friends and his beloved teacher, Miss Wright, can tell them apart.
In the story “A Twin Mistake,” Bob has a first date with a beautiful girl he meets at a mixer. Bob catches the flu and Richard takes the girl on the date. It is a wonderful evening, he really likes her, but he must confess and “When she understood, the smile was gone. I had to leave and right away. Bob and I learned not to play such jokes. We never got to see her again.” This is done in about 160 words: the reader fills in the dialogue, the food at the dinner, her dress, the ambiance of the restaurant: everything. It works brilliantly.
Richard is aware of death, but is a man of faith, not afraid. He believes “Our souls go on forever,” and he will be reunited with his wife, Jill. One night he dreams of heaven and the Almighty. It turns out: “He looks like Gary Cooper.”
