Means' story uses simple language and imagery. The whole thing vibrates with a dusty elegance that is fitting of the story's setting. Lines such as, “look out at a lake on a clean, quiet summer day while the wind riffled the far side and a single boat oared gently, dragging a fishing line,” give the story an earthy, minimalistic feel. It's beautiful in its sparseness.
This barren feeling is a reoccurring theme in the story. One example is Means' decision to fuse the dialogue into the natural telling of the narrative - there are no quotation marks, no new paragraphs. The old voice of Lee cuts through the fat, evocative paragraphs. It's blended into the story, sandwiched between descriptive sentences and complex musings. In fact, the dialogue, once again, resembles the title setting. The voices are surrounded by an expanse of words, just as landlocked Kansas, at the center of America, is surrounded by land.
The story is also streaked with a underlying sense of mysticism and magic. This isn’t a world of rules, it’s one of superstition. Lee relies on the gusting of the wind, gut feelings, and the formation of “a cloud that seems to refuse to achieve its full growth” to judge the state of things. Much of the story is told within the mind of Lee. The authour reveals Lee's mental ramblings and reminisces - the strange thought dreams that we all have, but fail to catalogue. It is these thoughts that form the bulk of the narrative and define Means' surreal style.
This style, and the superstition, often manifests itself as a kind of spirituality. Throughout the story there is a struggle between this spirituality (the land and nature) and brutality (the purpose of their mission). As Lee puts it, they “were preparing for the imminent arrival of God, or gun, his gut told him, in those exact words.” In the end, it is a highly violent combination of these two things that brings the stakeout to its close. Bullets carried on a breath of wind, blood dripping on the wild, overgrown weeds. It is as intensely destructive as it is beautiful.
Ultimately, "Tree Line, Kansas, 1934" is a story that is bursting with beauty and pain, just like the land in which it is set. It burns as slow as the cigarette upon which Lee drags during his retreats beyond the tree line. And at its close you are left feeling the same way. Light-headed and a little dirty.
For an alternate (and more in-depth) take on the story, check out Paul Lagimodiere's blog http://itsalovingbefuddlement.blogspot.com/2010/11/short-story-review-blog-assignment-1.html
David Means is a writer from Nyack, New York.
"Tree Line, Kansas, 1934" can be found in his short story collection The Spot, which was released in 2010.
The story appeared in the October 25, 2010 issue of The New Yorker.
The story appeared in the October 25, 2010 issue of The New Yorker.
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