bout de papier, Vol. 4, No. 2 (1986) — Spring/Summer 1986 // Printemps/Été 1986, pp. 27–28
G. Arthur Sage on: “WIFE OF . . .”, by
Sondra Gotlieb. Gage Publishing Ltd.,
Agincourt, Ont.
Sondra Gotlieb’s ebullient personality has had a somewhat stunning effect on the District of Columbia. Her “irreverent account of life in Washington” brings new meaning both to high society cocktail tactics, and the effective use of ever-shrinking hospitality allowances. Canada has come a long way from Susanna Moodie’s cabin in Roughing It In The Bush to Sondra’s official residence on Rock Creek Drive.
The author describes her work as “a humorous social commentary on the way temporary power and temporary status react upon human beings, including myself (sic)”. There is none of the literary merit of a Plautus, Juvenal, Swift, Webster, or Sandra Gwyn, but for those who like Wayne and Shuster quips, or surveys of wisdom from “the quail breast and crayfish circuit” “, there is the occasional chuckle or flush of recognition.
The book is also, latently, a cri de coeur from the heart of an intelligent woman overshadowed by a goliath whose personal radiance and lobbying acumen are likely to overshadow all but the most aggressive of wives. The book reveals Mr. Ambassador as “the Powerful Job” par excellence, a man in whose slipstream “Wife Of …” is carried like Dorothy in the Kansas tornado of the Wizard of Oz. The letters to Beverly are epistles of self-assertiveness between winds.
The incomplete possessive that is the book’s title rings of a slight self-deprecation. Unlike Son of Sam, or Man of La Mancha, “Wife Of …” has a missing predicate. Could it be that there is a resignation to the status, or is there a tinge of hope that someone (Beverly, perhaps?) can fill the void? The book is a series of letters, with no real conclusion, so we must regard it as a series of reprinted letters that might be of interest to those who do not regularly read the Washington Post. The humour tends to be on one plane, often clever, but just as often missing the boat. One might chuckle at “she’s keeping a separate Rolodex for Dallas” if one knows what a rolodex is. And we surely must laugh at Canada being out of fashion “along with the Stuttgart Ballet and the Russian Government”. In short, it is likely that this book will be scanned rather than quoted and will end up next to Pierre Berton on Cole’s discount shelves.
It would not be fair, however, to see “Wife Of .. “ as simply a work relegating diplomatic wives to the position of sophisticated chambermaid in an official Canadian version of a Fawlty Towers residence permanently open to visiting swans and their inevitable entourage. The satire does work when the cri de cour previously noted comes closer to the surface. There is a healthy bemusement by the author as the book’s characters, with their yuppie-grotesque names (Lionel Portant, Joe Promisall, Melvin Thistle, Baron Spitte, and Popsie Tribble) live out their pretentious lives as marionettes within Washington’s glitterati. Beverly, the pen-pal who never replies, and Sondra, the reporter of events, do look relatively normal in comparison. It is a shame, and worthy of the reader’s sympathy, that the vagaries of diplomatic lite demand that networking with self-serving gossip brokers is so vital to foreign policy objectives.
Diplomacy is not easy – for husbands, wives, or spice of either sex. The wages of war and peace are counterpointed by cocktail negotiations and slap-up dinners. Impressions are everything, and one would hate to strike-out (as it were) on a faux-pas when the game of impressions and influence peddling is so tough and competitive. The habits of the white wine spritzer set in Washington seem to be a far cry from the old diplomatic days of statespeople and eloquence.
In sum, it is awesome that such individuals should ever be given “temporary status” “, let alone “temporary power” Sondra may just have held up a mirror showing the futility of the diplomatic world in which there are no ethics or long-lasting principles, only short-term gains. She paints a universe of the Good, the Bad, and the Bitchy, full of sound and fury, signifying… Diplomacy seems to have shifted from its ancient roots (trying to prevent one nation from surprising another with actions) to a choreographed facade typical of the Brave New Information World. If this is true, and is indeed what Sondra’s “cri” sheds light upon, then “Wife Of…” bears witness to profounder elements than the superficial functions on the surface. Women, as yet, play an unacceptably small role in the power roles of diplomacy. Twenty-five years from now we may see a more balanced presence of the “other fifty percent” — and perhaps a retired Ambassador’s contribution to autobiography (a common vehicle for Canadian diplomats) entitled “Husband Of..
“Wife Of …” lives to serve and protect “Husband Of “, but the gnawing genie of self-worth (so legitimate to the author) and independence cannot be confined to the bottle. Rub it, and the spirit soars. The Washington Post, where the letters to Beverly first appeared, has been the safety valve of Presidents and mortals alike. It has also been the downfall of some to the delight of many. Those who write on sensitive subjects set themselves up for both praise and flying tomatoes. “Wife Of …” deserves both in ripe and targeted form.
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Originally published in bout de papier, Vol. 4, No. 2 (1986) — Spring/Summer 1986 // Printemps/Été 1986, pp. 27–28. Read the rest of this issue →
