Kansas
Suggested by: Ben
Traveled: October 8-16

Capote took me to Kansas, but as I write this roadtrip reflection, my heart is in Virginia. I have been struck by how often murder and the psychology of killers has come up on my trip so far, Utah and Kansas being the most overt instances. And it has been admittedly enjoyable to sink into the lives and stories of those who commit the ultimate sin. It makes for rich, memorable literature. Death, it turns out, is the stuff of life. But it has been difficult to see that truth play out so closely to my own community. Today’s news of Hannah Graham’s possible remains being found on a farm in Virginia suddenly make the Clutter family’s bound wrists and wide eyed fear much more real. To know that Hannah’s last day was one so typical to my own while I was a student at UVA makes Nancy Clutter all of a sudden a close friend of mine, someone I could have chatted with, baked a pie with on a lazy Saturday afternoon.

The depth of Capote’s work lies within his willingness to see all characters of this story as people, human beings deserving of thought and careful consideration. He tells the killers’ story as thoughtfully as the victims’. And I respect him for it, and gratefully hold his masterful work in my hands. But today, it is hard to feel anything but a sick punch in the gut and a fiery anger at the twisted things we do to one another. I want to light a torch, grab a pitchfork and defend the community that I hold so dear and felt so safe within. I want to find the answer — who did it, why, how we make them pay enough to feel like vengeance and justice have been served.

And I am going to let myself feel that, at least for tonight. Feel it wholly, and give it room to breathe and burn. And then I am going to sit back with Capote and see if there is a better way. To see if there is something more useful to dwell upon, to find a different question to ask and answer. I want to find a way to choose life, even with all the death.

Oklahoma
Suggested by: Anne
Traveled: Oct 1-3

Oh, how deliciously dysfunctional! Part of why I enjoyed August: Osage County so much was simply a return to a dramatic genre that I hold dear. But undoubtedly much of my delight came from a juicy dose of Schadenfreude. It’s a dark comedy — the members of the Weston family harbor hurtful secrets and undeniable pain. But to see them tripping over themselves, hunting for pills and even managing an opportunity to hit a philanderer with a frying pan, brought a silliness to the tragedy of their familial relations.

The characters that Letts has written hardly need a staged production to properly introduce themselves (though I would jump at the opportunity to see this work mounted). They are tough yet broken, and almost all manage to retain a sliver of sympathy within the reader, even as the list of their collective sins grows longer with each passing scene.

I’m certainly glad they aren’t my family. All the same, I’d relish the opportunity to be a fly on their unstable walls. I’m grateful that Tracy Letts gave me just that.