David Schickler’s “Telling it To Otis” from Kissing in Manhattan A Mythological Tale with a Modern

David Schickler’s

“Telling it To Otis” from Kissing in Manhattan

A Mythological Tale with a Modern Twist

David Schickler is one of four children and the only boy. He says he was a quiet child and youth and describes himself as someone who “wrote a lot in [his] head and in [his] heart before [he] wrote things on paper.” Even in his boyhood, he was drawn towards women. When he met a girl who intrigued him, he said to himself, “My heart asks, Are you my wife?” and just insert whichever girl’s name he was speaking of at the time (Schickler, David. The Dark Path, Kindle Locations 483-484). However, as he entered Georgetown University, his devotion towards women was split with his pull towards God and the priesthood. As a devoted Catholic, Schickler could not enjoy a full life with a wife and a oneness with God as he could in any other faith (Bassett n.p.). This struggle between the spiritual and erotic desires plagued him throughout his early life.

Faith and sex are at the heart of much of Schickler’s stories. In The Dark Path, Schickler not only recounts his struggle with the opposites of priesthood and women, but he also recounts the inner struggle of his own need for sexual pleasure. Sweet and Vicious features Reverend Bertram Brock, who deflowers the main character, Grace. Schickler writes the scene is written in such graphic detail, it borders on rape (Schickler Sweet and Vicious 53-55). Sexual conquest is not the goal of all of Schickler’s characters. When Grace tries to bed Steward, a boy who has loved her since grade school, he claims he has to wait because he is “trying for heaven” (65). Even in Kissing in Manhattan, the sex versus sin theme rises to the top. Patrick Rigg plays the part of the broken ladies' man. Yet, he does not actually have sex with the women. Instead, he strips and ties up because he wants to save his soul (Schickler, David. Kissing in Manhattan 103). Schickler’s unique style of sin and guilt carries into other mediums as well. He is also is a screenwriter and producer. He co-wrote Banshee, which was a successful series on Cinemax about a troubled town in Pennsylvania. It had the format of one peculiar location that tied several stories and people together (Seitz n.p.). Sin is better when it is connected in some mysterious way, according to this author.

Kissing in Manhattan has a common location that anchors several characters to

gether and their stories. The stories all take place in the modern setting of New York City at the end of the Twentieth Century, but Schickler constructs a modern version of a web of stories tinted with the Gothic paranormal and Grecian Gods, monsters, and labyrinths.

In “Telling it to Otis,” David Schickler’s main character, James Branch, has spent his life being invisible until he meets a woman held captive in his own apartment. He has already made appearances in earlier stories. In this story, the reader crawls inside his head the same way James crawls inside the elevator. The reader gets to know his thoughts, his dreams, his inner life. James was a stutterer almost to the point of being mute. It was his tutor, Anamaria, that cured him. But she also was the object of his first crush. Handsome, but awkward, he chose a life of numbers as an accountant to limit human contact. He moves in with Patrick Rigg, a handsome but deranged man who carries a gun, and delights in tying up beautiful women to his bed. And that is where James meets Rally, the unlikely damsel in distress. The anti-hero and Rally fall in love. But they are soon in danger because to Patrick, his most precious jewel, Rally, has been taken. Patrick hatches a plan to hunt and kill his nemesis, who he now believes is James.

Schickler begins with narration instead of character interaction in “Telling it to Otis.” Even though the reader has heard from James’ in “Opals,” when he was given the earrings, and has seen him as a secondary character in other stories, the reader is not permitted to interact with him at all in the beginning of the “Telling it Otis.” The story begins with a paragraph affirming the title with James’ action. It reads: "At the end of the century, in the city of New York, there lived a young man named James Branch…At night, though, James talked to Otis, the elevator in the Preemption. He did not talk to any elevator operator or any elevator passengers. He talked to the elevator itself" (Schickler 158). It is not just a prologue. A prologue would indicate a mere introduction, something a reader would expect in a novel or something a writer often uses in the rest of a collection. This prologue is something more. It is the only one of its kind in the book. The paragraph itself is set aside from all others on the page in appearance. Its format is different from the rest of the paragraphs contained as a group of lines as if it were a Greek chorus standing alone on stage to announce the purpose and main character in a play, a device Shakespeare used in Romeo & Juliet. This paragraph identifies James Branch as the hero in Kissing in Manhattan.

James Branch takes center stage in this story. The reader learns his life involved little to no interaction with people, and the beginning of his story is written in the same fashion. The narration not only echoes the solitary life that James leads but also foreshadows what is to come. First, Schickler hints at the closed spaces that James enjoys, the ones that make him feel comfortable enough to express his thoughts:

"James would rise from bed and crawl into the dumbwaiter, close its door. In this utter isolation, James would sit cross-legged, hug his arms around himself, rock back and forth, and imagine Anamaria sitting before him. Then James opened his mouth, and with a fluency no one ever suspected of him, he poured out aloud to Anamaria the secret longings of his heart,” (Schickler 160-161). More than foreshadowing the conversations with the elevator Otis that are to come, the narration of the dumbwaiter ramblings paints the character of James Branch to have a heart capable of romance. The narration of young James also foreshadows a love to come when the object of his affection, Anamaria, says, “Oh, Señor James…. Someday it will happen for you too” (162). Although he was heartbroken. James began to believe that Anamaria saw a great love in his future.

Schickler could have just told James Branch's story from adulthood. However, he is the only character in the book that the reader sees as a boy. A few get a flashback to childhood, but not as in-depth as James Branch’s story. The reader sees James in the dumbwaiter speaking his love of Anamaria. If Schickler had not given the reader James’ full story, the parallel of James sitting in the dumbwaiter and James sitting in Otis speaking of his admiration for Rally would have been lost. He says, “She looked wonderful, Otis. She had on this burgundy dress, and silver earrings, and her hair looked all golden and bristly. I wanted to run my hand through it.’ James rocked, kept his eyes closed” (Schickler “Telling it to Otis” 189). The smaller dumbwaiter was fine for a boy’s crush. But the supernatural, grand Otis is more fitting for James’ great love for Rally.

James’ affection for Rally polarizes the two male forces of good and evil in this story. James Branch, the good force, wants to love and protect Rally. Patrick Rigg, the evil force, wants to possess her. Schickler further establishes the connection between James and Rally. Having already seen Rally naked and tied up in Patrick’s room during their first conversation, James, who did not wear a tuxedo because Patrick had neglected to tell him it was required, and Rally speak again with all the awkwardness and trepidation of a math nerd approaching the prom queen (169, 186). He even becomes so nervous that his stutter returns, “Ha—have you actually been to the Himalayas?” (186). Schickler not only reminds the reader of James’ speech impediment. It is evident that he is just as drawn to Rally as he was to Anamaria. But James is a man now, so later on in the conversation, when Rally asks if he is picturing her the way she looked a few nights before, his answer is, "I'm thinking about how you look right now," (187). It is enough to leave the prom queen speechless.

Schickler makes it clear that it is not just an attraction on James’ side. All through high school and college, “ James was handsome, and there were girls in his school who would gladly have consorted with his quiet blue eyes” (p. 160). Rally is swept away as well.

“Rally raised her eyebrows. She’d been about to speak, about to say something smart and coquettish. Instead, she checked out James’s shoulders, which were wider than she’d guessed in the dark of Patrick’s bedroom. Her glance settled on James’s eyes, on the kind blue wash of them, on the deliberation behind them. Rally drew in a breath.” (167). It is because she is affected by James, because he is drawn to her, that Patrick sweeps in to separate to two of them. Schickler illustrates the battle between the good, James, and evil, Patrick, beautifully with the dialog between the two at the Millenial solstice Debauchery Spree. Patrick's dialog and actions both possessive of Rally and degrading to James. He interrupts their conversation and asks, "How's the wine?" (187) Patrick's actions are even more disturbing. He "stood tall and lordly in his tuxedo. He kissed Rally on the cheek. Then he kissed James on the cheek, and stood grinning back and forth between his roommate and the woman" (187). Such images conjure memories of the fateful kiss in The Godfather right before Fredo gets whacked. James and Rally lose their identities in the narrator's description. He is just the "roommate" as if he were a piece of furniture in Patrick's life. Rally, like so many of the other naked women parading through his bedroom, is just another trophy possession. Like all trophies, she is beautiful to him. He tells her, “You look radiant, Scintillating. Scrumptious” (187). What is most telling about his relationship with Rally is how she reacts. She is uncomfortable and pulls away. He tells Branch she “looks good enough to eat,” and she scolds him. Rally may have once been a willing captive. Now, she is looking for her escape, for her hero. And James is it.

While Patrick is putting Rally in her place, he is degrading James. He tells Rally, “Branch here is a little shy around the womenfolk.” (187). Rally hints that she likes that, which angers Patrick. Schickler is careful to paint Patrick turning even more sinister when he no longer hides his intentions, “I’ll bet they do. I'll bet they do.' Patrick was finished laughing now. He was still grinning his hyena grin. 'Rally is a travel writer, Branchman” (188). Finally, Patrick assaults Rally with a pinch and pulls her away, but not before she makes it clear to James that she is interested in going to the Himalayas. It is her secret message to James that she is interested, that she likes him. He offers an overture, and Rally accepts right in front of Patrick. Schickler uses this confrontation and language to illustrate how James begins to open up to Rally and how easily he becomes almost non-verbal when Patrick interrupts to take Rally. The reader also sees Patrick for the tyrant he is and his complete control over those around him.

In each of the stories of this book, there is a touch of the paranormal, the Gothic or Greek mythological elements. While the reader does not get the full effect unless the whole novel is read, “Telling it to Otis” has its own magic as well. As in all the stories, it begins with the apartment building. It is described in various details in several stories, but this is the most exact at the beginning of the book, “The Preemption was located at West Eighty-second and Riverside Drive. It was a cryptic old brownstone, with gargoyles on the roof, and it loomed over the Hudson River like a watchtower. Inside, the Preemption was special for three reasons. It featured the oldest working Otis elevator in Manhattan, a hand-operated antique with mahogany doors at each floor. The Preemption also featured a peculiar doorman, a Negro man named Sender” (30).

In “Telling it to Otis,” the building and its gargoyles are mentioned but not painted in such detail, because as the story focuses on one tale in the book, it is all wrapped up in the mysticism of the elevator and Sender.

The Otis elevator in the Preemption operates with no glitches and never needs to be repaired. He describes the elevator as if it were the most luxurious place in the world, “It was a wonderful elevator, with dim, solemn lighting. It had a square maroon carpet… like the throttle of an elegant schooner” (165). Schickler goes on to give it the quiet, supernatural movement, “When you pulled this lever and chose your destination, the elevator sighed softly, once, and set you gliding seamlessly up toward the roof or down toward the earth” (165). This elevator not only carries its passengers, it breathes, it lives. It also has a talisman. It had a key that “could be clicked to the right or the left. If it was clicked to the right, as it usually was, the elevator ran smoothly. But if you clicked the key to the left, the elevator hushed its action and came to an easy, immediate halt, without any grinding or alarms” (165). Schickler creates a wingless transporter.

The elevator is not just a small space to carry people up and down; it is something other-worldly, something or someone that holds power over those who enter. Otis leaves its passengers in awe of its majesty. Schickler paints the phenomenon when, “James recalled that his fellow residents never spoke to each other in the elevator,” believing that it is “ due to some unconscious respect they were paying the Preemption or the elevator itself” (165). But James is not left mute in the elevator. Instead, he is given voice and solitude. Sender, the ageless doorman, guards James’s commune with the elevator. When a couple came in the very first night, Sender “ pointed the couple away from the elevator and told them to take the stairs” (167). Schickler’s Sender is much like the priest at the temple of the gods in Greece. Only James is permitted to speak to Otis. Only James can be alone between floors. Otis will quietly serve the other tenants of the Preemption building. But only James can sit cross-legged and tell him his dreams, wishes, fears, and love.

Schickler also gives the reader an oracle in Morality John, a “Vagrant singer,” who is “a lanky, black-eyed guitarist,” and plays in the subway (165). Schickler's name for this character not only blatantly indicates that he is to be the conscience of his main characters, but it also makes it obvious what is to come. For instance, he sings, “Somehow, all is falling into place…and love is yet awaiting me,” to James. Like the Oracle of Delphi without the noxious gasses, he is telling James that she is waiting; Rally is waiting. Morality does not always give good news. He warns Patrick, "It's getting harder…making lovers out of strangers," making it perfectly clear that his collection of naked, female admirers is unraveling (190). Finally, James comes face to face with Morality John, and James says it has the feeling of a “ commoner come to Delphi” (199). Morality tells him, "You'd better do something about it… 'cause I don't want to live without it," (199). He asks if Rally is the one, and Morality points to commotion where he finds Rally. Like so many of the Greek heroes on a quest, Schickler's James Branch seeks guidance from an oracle before saving the damsel in distress.

Minotaur’s Nightclub offers a scene out of a Greek tale and, perhaps, one of the most modern interpretations. The ancient tale of a minotaur roaming a labyrinth to devour young people sacrificed to him casts Patrick in a new light, a darker, more sinister light. Schickler’s description does not disappoint. The club has “ its maze of cubby rooms, its bars with steel counters and bright blue lights behind the bottles” (197). Rather than a dark, stone maze underground, the reader is given steel, lights, and cubbies. The scene takes place in a dance club with blasting music rather than a quiet maze and one lone monster. Along with Greek allusions, the story has its Gothic undertones, “ In one room stood an authentic iron maiden, its door thrown open" (197). The Forum, the main hall is described as "carnivorous" (197). His choice of words brings this place to life. It is not a place; it is a monster. And somewhere in this monster is Rally. The hero finds the damsel.

Like an astronomer looking at the night sky with a telescope, the reader must look at the whole novel to fully appreciate all the nuances of each character and each element. One cannot see the constellation Orion if the telescope is only looking at one star on his belt. Michiko Kakutani argues that Kissing in Manhattan is just one of the “latest in a long line of books to use Sherwood Anderson's ‘Winesburg, Ohio’ as a model for its interlinked stories of outsiders, misfits, and eccentrics" (New York Times n.p.). It is an over-simplification of Schickler’s collection of stories, and it completely misses the mythological element. Each character plays a different role. Rally has her own story, “Kissing in Manhattan” where she meets and falls under the spell and rule of Patrick Rigg. The priest, Father Merchant, is connected to Patrick Rigg, who is connected to James Branch, who is connected to Sender. Thread over thread, they mix and intertwine.

It is not the real New York City or technological advances that influence the story, but rather the contemporary, or modern viewpoint that adds the twist to these mythological tales. Kakutani complains that Schickler’s characters, “Taken together, these lives are meant to give the reader a vision of Manhattan as a city of solitary, disenfranchised individuals, much the way, say, that Ben Katchor's inspired comic-strip novel.” But David Schickler unapologetically did not intend to write a realistic reflection of New York or specifically Manhattan. He says that the book is “Half of the real Manhattan and half a fantastical, ideal Manhattan that [he] dreamt up in [his] head” (Wroe n.p.). When asked about his writing in general, David Schickler credits his Jesuit Catholic schooling where he says, reading of Tolkien and C S Lewis has contributed to his "still having something of a yearning to add mythological touches to [his] own fiction" (Wroe). “Touches” may be an underestimation of the mythological elements in Schickler’s work as a whole.

With a flair for opposites, Schickler names a character in Sweet and Vicious Color even though her hair is white down to her waist. She is a clairvoyant who can see the future and also hear a friend’s cries miles away. In names in general, it is never just a name. Even his series, Banshee, is named after an Irish spirit whose song warns of imminent death. The fact that it is a suspense drama is fitting. But it is Kissing in Manhattan where Schickler not only dips his pen into classic mythology, he allows it to weave its thread in almost every tale. Morality John is an oracle and a conscience in Kissing in Manhattan. Minotaur's has a labyrinth and Patrick, a foul-smelling monster, trying to keep Rally from James. Even the name of the building: Preemption. The word means a higher law or entity superseding a lower or inferior law or entity. To Schickler, a name is deeper than the word on the page.

Schickler’s New York City does not exist. The modern twists to the classic tales can be subtle. An elevator is not just an elevator. It is like a winged god. It has communion with James. It is alive. The monster wandering Minotaur's, wandering the city does not look like a monster. He is handsome, charming, and rich. He is Patrick Rigg. And he has a collection of women. The only thing monstrous about him is his awful smell of his rotting soul that only the priest can detect. The high rise building that stands in the city commands the lives of these tenants like the gods did. It stands, like Olympus, at the center of their lives.

While some critics read this story or this book like a collection of stories that are mere interactions between people living in New York City at the end of Twentieth Century, that is not what is at the heart of this collection, and certainly not what is at the heart of this story. They miss the point. The building’s will rules over the tenants, like a god. In Opal’s, James is led to a secret room where he meets John Castle wearing a tuxedo and pounding on an anvil. He hands James opal earrings and tells him they are for the woman he will love. A mystic craftsman conjures images of Hephaestus, the God who made all the magical items for the gods and was married to Aphrodite, the goddess of Love. In “Black,” Schickler not only gives the reader Father Merchant, the only one who can smell Patrick’s rotten soul, but also his three aunts, a representation of the three Fates. And at the end of the novel, it is Father Merchant, Sender, and John Castle who heal Patrick. Kissing in Manhattan is not touched with the mythological elements; it is bathed in it. To read and genuinely understand James Branch's journey, the reader must accept the supernatural element, and James as the Greek hero plucked from obscurity who, with the aid from the gods, must conquer the evil within Patrick Rigg.

David Schickler's collection of stories in Kissing in Manhattan is interwoven together, so characters often make an appearance in other stories, influencing the action, giving clues into their own stories as well. It truly is a web. The strings that connect the stories do not just touch at the ends, hinting at other characters or tales. No, they run right in the middle again, one right after the other. If the reader plucks James’ story, Father Merchant’s story, Patrick’s stories, even Nicole’s story in “The Smoker,” they all vibrate like an intricate web demanding to be explored. James is in other stories as well because much like life itself, focusing on one event, like falling in love in “Telling it to Otis,” is not the full narrative or purpose for one character. Such is the case with James Branch.

Schickler does not intend James and Rally’s union to be the big, romantic ending to his tale or this book. They meet on the dance floor when everyone, even a group of skinheads, dances to Dolly Parton’s “Here You Come Again,” which just might be the most anti-climactic song ever written. Schickler commands the reader to go on by tying James and Rally together while he unravels Patrick Rigg. It begins with the seclusion of the two lovers: “ They avoided James’s apartment for the whole week” to avoid Patrick (197). Patrick could not stand the fact that she chose James. As the narrator explains, “ Patrick's soul was a fragile house of cards, and the cards were the women of his life, stacked upon each other, everyone in her place. He spent all his money on his women, fondled them, manipulated them" (207). Patrick's language is quick and sharp, like that of a fifties noir detective, “I made her,’ thought Patrick darkly. ‘I made her what she is. And no dopey-eyed accountant is going to take her away” (207). The final page not only allows the reader to see how far Patrick has gone beyond all reason but also urges the reader to move on to the next story for hope. "His fury was a ticker tape in his mind, and the only way to pull its plug" (208). Also, on that same page, Morality John makes an appearance, claiming, “I was wrong…and you’ll belong” (208). Schickler may be trying to garner sympathy for his villain.

Sympathy may be a lot to ask of the by this point, even with the freak accident Guppy murder of his brother. As a child, Patrick saw his big brother who was killed Guppy the Wonderfish, an amusement park ride, right in front of him. Since then, Patrick has felt life “absurd" and used it as justification for all his evil actions. At the same time, he engaged in every debased carnal exploit with his bondage women except losing his virginity (93-111). If the reader feels difficulty garnishing sympathy for Patrick, it is because Schickler has written a character who does not even feel sympathy for himself. That is the purpose of the oracle hinting at a change of heart that may have something to do with Patrick’s destination, Father Merchant. The last lines in “Telling it to Otis” leave unanswered questions, “[Patrick] found the priest in the confessional, slid into the stall built for sinners. Alone, in the dark, he began to speak” (209). What is Patrick planning to do with the gun? Why is this priest so important? The reader is left with questions that must be answered.

The true story of Kissing in Manhattan is the redemption of Patrick Rigg. It is the power of forgiveness and absolution. Saving Rally was only part of James Branch's quest. He is not just half of a love story. Good has to conquer evil. It does not always require a sword and shield. Instead, James' weapons are his courage, his heart, and his capacity to love and forgive. Focusing on “Telling it to Otis” only, Schickler makes it clear that the real story is between Branch and Rigg. Branch finds Patrick polite enough but becomes uneasy when he accidentally sees that "Patrick's room was open just a crack, and through it, James saw Patrick crouching naked before his dormer window, polishing a handgun and loading it with bullets” (Schickler Kissing 163). Later, we see that Patrick is no longer someone that makes James just uncomfortable and fears. He has become someone James hates. Even after Patrick degraded him, even after he saw the gun, James felt he would do anything to save Rally from him. “He realized that he’d rather be impaled on the Chrysler Building spire than think about Rally ever returning to her naked, bound place in Patrick’s bedroom” (196). If the face of fear, James would risk it all for Rally.

Schickler continues to keep the focus of the story on Patrick and James. After James and Rally have found love, it is about Patrick. It is about not telling Patrick. It is about avoiding Patrick because "They did not know how he would respond to their togetherness" (204). And they were right to be afraid. Schickler has created a looming sense of doom in Patrick. When Patrick takes his gun to sit in the confessional with Father Merchant, it is to tell him he wants to kill James Branch. But that is not revealed until the next story.

Schickler presses the reader to go on to witness Patrick’s redemption because he has written him with almost no redeemable qualities. He writes, "Telling it to Otis" about James Branch, who is so kind, so full of love. Then he goes on to introduce Father Merchant in the next story, "Black.” James steps in front of Rally to take the bullet. Father Merchant steps in front of him and takes the bullet in the head before Patrick shoots himself. Patrick and the Priest survive.

The point of this story and the whole book is that it does not matter what plans a person may have, a superior being or entity may preempt those plans. There is such a thing as divine intervention. And no matter how evil or sinister someone may be, they are worth saving. Even though Patrick planned to hurt someone and ultimately did hurt someone, a gifted priest no less, absolution and salvation are given by both the intended, James Branch, and victim, Father Merchant. With that absolution, Patrick’s fractured soul begins to heal. At the heart of this book is a classic tale of the fight between good conquering evil with the help of divine intervention. The happy ending is not that evil is slain. It is that a soul is saved.

Works Cited

Bassett, Win. “The Rumpus Interview with David Schickler.” The Rumpus.net, 6 Dec. 2013, therumpus.net/2013/12/the-rumpus-interview-with-david-schickler/.

Kakutani, Michiko. “BOOKS OF THE TIMES; The Unconventional and the Unloved in an Urban Mosaic.” The New York Times, The New York Times, 29 June 2001, www.nytimes.com/2001/06/29/books/books-of-the-times-the-unconventional-and-the-unloved-in-an-urban-mosaic.html.

Wroe, Nicholas. “The Dreamer of Manhattan.” The Guardian, Guardian News and Media, 23 Mar. 2002, www.theguardian.com/books/2002/mar/23/fiction.nicholaswroe.

Schuessler, Jennifer. “Tie Me Up! Tie Me Down!” The New York Times, The New York Times, 24 June 2001, movies2.nytimes.com/books/01/06/24/reviews/010624.24schusst.html.

Schickler, David. The Dark Path (Kindle Locations 483-484). Penguin Publishing Group. Kindle Edition.?”

… Kissing in Manhattan. Random House Publishing Group. Kindle Edition. 2001.

… Sweet and Vicious: a Novel. Dial Press, 2005.

Seitz, Matt Zoller. “Banshee Review: A Ludicrous Series, and It Knows It.” Vulture, Vulture, 11 Jan. 2013, www.vulture.com/2013/01/banshee-review-a-ludicrous-series-that-knows-it.html.

Stickney, Brandon M. “Kissing in Manhattan.” Kissing in Manhattan | Bookreporter.com, www.bookreporter.com/reviews/kissing-in-manhattan.