i would prefer not to

Our experiences shape us. It seems so obvious, but don't we often forget that when we are dealing with other people (and ourselves sometimes)? We have no idea what they've been through and what might be causing their behaviors, their actions. Is there a way to be curious about others without being nosy? Would we treat one another better if we understood one another more? I don't have the answers to these questions. I've just been thinking on them recently.

That thinking brought Herman Melville's story Bartleby, the Scrivener: A Story of Wall Street to my mind. In it, an elderly (unnamed) lawyer hires a new clerk, but the clerk eventually starts responding to every request with the phrase: "I would prefer not to." Since he is the titular character, we are on Bartleby's side, while understanding the frustration of his employer. This dichotomy is where the humor lives.

I've always related to Bartleby and his desire to opt out of standard behavior, to unsubscribe from what he finds undesirable. Seriously, wouldn't it be great to just shrug off any unwanted requests you receive from bosses or authority figures? Bartleby, though, takes it too far and eventually stops eating.

If this was written today, or aimed for commercial success, the situation would come to a head* with hilarious or heart-warming results. Instead, it sort of fizzles by story's end and the lawyer has to chase down Bartleby, where he finds him dead of starvation. The lawyer's understanding of the world has been shaken by his interaction with Bartleby. Rather than being simply annoyed by his "bad" employee and replacing him with someone "better" and moving on with his own life, the narrator tries to understand why Bartleby is the way he is. He shares a rumor he learned with the reader, and we come to know that Bartleby is deeply, profoundly wounded. Melville's words:

Knowing what makes Bartleby tick does not change what happens in the story. But I feel immense compassion for Bartleby, and how his experiences impact his nature as a man "prone to a pallid hopelessness." The hope, the only glimmer in this tale that turns so philosophically gloomy, is the narrator's curiosity about Bartleby. He worries about a fellow human and then he extends that worry to all of humanity. And I think that if more people exhibited this curiosity about others, we'd be okay as a species. That's my takeaway after many a reading** and why I hope to stay curious as I age.

A final thought: I listened to the last paragraph and last line as I stood before Melville's grave in Woodlawn Cemetery in August of 2020. In those strange months, it felt like a good idea to track someone down and find their final resting place. The powerful ending spoke to me more than usual in that time and place, for whatever reason.

* It is contended whether this idiom refers to a head of lettuce or a boil. I often decide against using it because the image of a boil ready to burst is off-putting to some. Today, I used it.

** As I reread the ending again today, I realized that the dead-letter office is really sad because it is about missed connections, which Bartleby and the narrator both struggle with in the story. Man, that Melville guy, can really explore a theme.

indoor animal is curated by a human: Tim Papciak. On Mondays, he shares one link to one music video to help spark creativity in himself and in other creative types. On Thursdays, he recommends a book, movie, show, art piece, or link to some dusty corner of the internet that he believes either 1.) adds to the human experience, or 2.) serves as a coping mechanism in the year 2025. Note: this is not, and never will be, self-help content.