Reviews

The Schomberg Fair

Dark Was the Night, Cold Was the Ground

Review Date: 2008-06-26

Recovered from a chest of drawers somewhere in rural Ontario, a series of letters

To my dearest Annie,

I write to explain my absence from you these past few weeks. 2 weeks ago at the tavern I fell in with some men and they’ve taken me with them. I don’t know where because we travel only at night. They are treating me well and have given me ink and paper to write with but refuse to let me out of their sight. From what I can tell, these three men act as some sort of travelling preachermen, although this sham is belied by their heavy drinking. They also play music, horrible music that drives a man half insane. I will escape at my earliest opportunity, my sweet Annie. Worry not; you will see me again soon. 

Jeremiah 

-

Annie,

We’ve been sleeping on the ground, far from the city, these men and I. If this is because we are running from the law or if these men are just ashamed of themselves, I do not know. Their apparent leader, Matthew, drunkenly fell into a river last night, screaming for some long-lost love of his. A more pitiful spectacle I cannot recall. Five minutes later he was smashing an empty bottle of whiskey against the rocks and telling me even the Devil won’t take him. Once he’d sobered up, he told me a long story about a man, a friend of his who fought in some far-off war. This man was brave, Matthew says, but he came home to a life of poverty and neglect and alcoholism. I wonder if there can be optimism in this world of theirs. 

Jeremiah 

- 

Annie my dear,

Will you recognize me when I return? My clothes are filthy and I’m afraid I haven’t had a decent shave since I can’t remember. There is not much to do on the road except drink. The conversations invariably turn black with these men, and that only leads to more of the bottle. Nathan does not speak much, but when he does, his voice reaches a depth matched only by the sorrow of their stories. They’re desperate men, lonely and afraid and angry. The more I drink, the more I understand. This scares me. I ask again, will you recognize me when I return? Will I?

J

 

-

ANNIE CAN YOU HEAR ME? I’M ON A TRAINCAR SCREAMING YOUR NAME. DO YOU NEED MONEY?

 
-

We were arrested last night for sleeping on public property. Matthew tells me this isn’t his first time. That he’s been in and out several times for exactly this offence. We get dropped off I don’t know where. In the city by some shelter, but we have no money. Matthew says he’s married and his wife and child live in an apartment somewhere but that he can’t go back there. I don’t pry. Instead we drink and get high. There’s no deeper a man can sink, than how far I have. “Things ain’t like they used to be”… indeed. Don’t expect me home soon, Annie. I’m trying.

-

Annie,

I dreamt of the Devil last night. He was offering to buy me a drink in some dark bar. I asked him what the catch was and he promised me there was none. I took a sip and he just laughed at me and kept laughing. Awake now, I still hear it. The further I stray from you, the more I feel I’m being played like a puppet. We wander in nature and steal food, and yet I feel no freedom here. The world of these men is oppressive and nihilistic. I return to the bottle to find escape. Goodbye.

J

-

Annie,

Would you even take me back? I’m dirty, Annie, dirty and broken. There is no other way to be out here. It is unavoidable. No one cares for me now; I am passed over by most and spit upon by the ones whose eyes I catch. We need food, Annie. I told them about you, but I will not burden you with our disgusting presence. I understand this shame now.  There isn’t any going back.

Matthew dreams of getting hold of a phonographic recording device. He thinks sharing his stories will ease his mind. I’m not sure what good it will do, except drive more men like me mad. Send us running like rabid dogs into the…

(the bottom section has been torn off)

-

ANNIE FORGET ME I can’t come home. It’s so cold. Everything is cold. Then I drink. I’m ok. Don’t worry. I’m ok. God. What can… Matthew says he’s going to a cemetery tonight. I know he might not come back for a few days. I know what he means ANNIE. Things were so easy. It’s so easy when everything is good then it gets so hard when it’s bad. It’s real bad and it gets harder and harder to get back up. It’s not fair and no one cares. Here come the cops again.

-

Annie,

Please take these wax cylinders and store it somewhere safe. These men worked hard to produce this. It’s not perfect but what is? The spirit of the thing is intact. What do you know of pain, Annie? You sweet child, angel surrounded by dark clouds. Listen to these stories and think of me. Think of all the men whose lives are playing out in shadows and alleys and dark homes. Think of them and wonder how alive you really are.

Score: 8.3

- Jeff Geady