Collectors is a lean and strong story that I really enjoyed. It's packed with atmosphere and a level of discomfort and I love the whole salesman thing. My only issue on completion is that I'm not sure I understand it.
Mr Slater is out of work and out of ideas. The story opens with him waiting for the mailman. It's difficult to imagine the intensity of that feeling in a time before the internet and smartphones, but not that long ago connection to the outside world if you didn't leave your house was limited to the landline and the arrival of post once or twice a day. I remember well the sensations of waiting, be they generated by excitement, hope or anxiety.
Slater doesn't even has a phone. He's hoping to hear news about a job and, by the looks of things, he really needs one. Money is tight. Ambition has gone. Waiting for news is a painful process, especially when there may be others trying to get in touch- debt collectors and the like.
When there's a knock at the door, Slater hides. He knows it's not the mail on account of the sound of the footsteps, indicating that his waiting is habitual.
On the porch stands a force of nature. Aubrey Bell announces that a Mrs Slater has won a prize and insists upon being let in.
There's no Mrs Slater, Mr Slater says, and he doesn't have a penny to his name, but that doesn't stop Bell.
The door opens, revealing a giant of a man in waterproofs.
Bell takes over from this point. He leads the action and conversation, speaking like a well-mannered gentleman, and is in total control. Slater is passive and weak, allowing the incomer to dominate. All he can do is offer the guy a coffee.
Bell explains that the prize is vacuuming and cleaning of the carpets and mattresses in the house. He proceeds to carry out the clean, drawing up bits of human detritus and filling filter after filter. Next, it's the carpet. He goes about his job chatting all the while. There are mentions of Rilke and of Voltaire's death mask, with reference to castles. An Englishman's home is his castle. It can be a place of great creativity. It can also be a prison of sorts. There has to be a point and I'm afraid it's passing me by.
A letter finally drops through the mailbox. Bell blocks the way so that Slater can't get it. As Bell packs up the vacuum, he picks up the letter, folds it and drops it in his pocket.
It's for Mr Slater, he says (and there are no speech marks in this one), checking the sender's address, and he'll sort it. Slater allows him to do this, declining a blunt offer to buy the cleaner. And it's all wrapped up.
The title, Collectors, is plural. In the context of what happens, it doesn't make much sense. At first glance, no one is collecting. Does it relate more to the fear of the collectors who might arrive? Or perhaps Slater is a collector of sorts, of misery, dead skin, final demands and cobwebs? And is Bell collecting the residue for Slater- the old hopeless ways and the outside threat of the letter that arrived? For the entire story, there's a fear that Bell will exploit the homeowner using the magic ways of the sales pitch, yet he does the opposite. He's like Santa Claus dressed in a dripping coat and galoshes.
It's a good thing that I can enjoy creative work whether I think I understand it or not. Getting the artist's point is clearly going to enhance the experience; simply soaking up the pleasure of the words or colours the emotional responses is enough for me. Which is a good thing, otherwise I'd be left out in the cold more often than not.
Any pointers on the story? Drop a comment.
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