putterings 428 < 429 > 430 index
can’t say that I am
But it was a very timid, large, shambling young man who walked down the gangplank that evening into the metropolis of Portland. Jonathan had seen greater cities than Portland, with its population of four or five thousand, but none more unnerving. It was a blare of light and noise flooding up the hills until suddenly quenched by the black menace of towering mountains.
He made his way to the Big Horn, passed through the crowded bar, and asked for a room. The landlord’s daughter showed him up. The lamp in her hand revealed that she had an attractive face and a pretty good figure. The landlord was rich. This girl probably knew her way around.
In the room he set down his carpetbag, took off his beaver hat, washed the steamer smoke from his face and hands. He adjusted the bow tie over his boiled shirt and flecked the dust from his best broadcloth suit. The girl was puttering about the room. She made him nervous.
He suddenly turned upon her. “Are you interested in Japan?” he said with a curious explosive force.
She stared. “No, can’t say that I am,” she answered, slowly. “Whatever ...
— writing of its (troubled) time, cobbled together from several preview snippets — all that I could coax into being — for
Willard Price, Barbarian (1941) : 31 : link
reviews (both positive)
- Drake de Kay, “Trade in Japan” in The New York Times (October 26, 1941) : link (paywall)
- T. A. Bisson, “The Old, the Same Japan” in The New Republic (December 6, 1941) : 11 : link (Unz Review)
(note date of publication)
—
Willard Price (1887-1983), writer, journalist, frequent flyer
wikipedia : link
provides link to a fascinating wayback-machined
Laurie Barber, “Willard Price : Uncle Sam’s Spy?” WaiMilHis 1:4 (July 1999) : link