“But what do you have to persuade people of, isn’t it enough to write a funny book? I have never been persuaded of anything by your books, except that you are far too depressing and must think that the world is a horrible place.”
“The depth of our despair measures what capability and height of claim we have to hope. Thomas Carlyle,” Peloma told me.
“So what you are saying is that your horribly depressing books are preparing people for hope? I don’t know if I believe that one,” I told her.
“If you don't change your beliefs, your life will be like this forever. Is that good news? Dr. Robert Anthony.”
There was a screech of car wheels behind us and I looked around, the comedian that we had been watching had nearly had a car hit him but he was fine. Peloma gave me a look that said almost as clearly as if she had actually said it, see, that’s what happens to funny people. She turned and headed back for her apartment.
We didn’t bring up this conversation again and Peloma’s book was published in due course full of just as much gloom as always. It had a child deathbed scene in it that had every book club in the country talking about it being the tear jerker of the year. I read it and thought it was just more of the same. She still hadn’t changed her tune any.
Peloma’s next book was of more interest for me, it was about a clown, bad things kept happening to him but he still was able to continue making his jokes and making people laugh. In the end he died of course, I don’t remember any book by Peloma who didn’t have someone die, but he didn’t seem very upset about his death. No one really seemed upset about his death, he died it a good way, and happy, and at a very old age, and he had changed people’s lives. So I couldn’t change Peloma, I don’t think anyone can change her, but I guess what I said inspired her a bit. Now I just wish I could do something about her annoying habit of talking in quotes.
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