The Opposite of Loneliness Essays and Stories(3)

I ended up getting a bit screwed over on the secret society front so I’ve vowed to spend the 12 hours a week writing a novel. (Tonight is tap.) If I was willing to devote that much time chatting in a tomb I should be willing to devote it to writing! 6–12 sundays and thursdays. Might call it BOOK and BOOK. :)

She had devoted less than two hours to disappointment before she moved on. If she’d been tapped by Book and Snake, this book would not exist.

After Marina’s death, her father told me about a sailing race she’d entered when she was fourteen. The race—in Wellfleet Harbor, on the outer end of Cape Cod—was for a class of solo fourteen-foot dinghies called Lasers. The junior sailors, fifteen and under, were to start at the same time as the adults. Marina was hoping for a calm day. She thought she could beat everyone, including the adults, both because she was an expert sailor and because she weighed less than a hundred pounds. A heavy sailor slows a boat just as a heavy jockey slows a racehorse.

But the day wasn’t calm. There were forty-knot winds and three-foot waves. Before the race started, the entire junior division dropped out, along with all the women—except Marina.

In weather like that, lightness is not an asset. Especially when the boat is heading upwind, keeping it stable is almost impossible. Marina capsized more times than her parents could count. Each time, the boat tipped onto its side and she was thrown into the water. She had to swim the bow into the wind, climb onto the centerboard, stand on it while holding onto the gunwale, lean backward, pull hard enough to lift seventy-six square feet of wet sail out of the water, climb back into the boat, and readjust the sail, all with the wind howling and the waves crashing into and over her.

Marina’s original goal had been to win. Her new goal was to finish. Several of the men gave up, but Marina continued. In perfect weather, the race would have taken her fifteen minutes. It took her almost an hour. She came in second to last, to incredulous applause. She was soaking wet, her hair was bedraggled, and her hands were bloody from gripping the lines.

*

A few hours after Marina was told that making it as a writer today was virtually impossible, she arrived late to a meeting of her spoken-word poetry group at Yale. A friend of hers recalls that her face was flushed and her eyes were like sharp, wet stones.

“I’ve decided I’m going to be a writer,” she said. “Like, a real one. With my life.”

—Anne Fadiman

November 12, 2013



* * *



* Polysyndeton is the use of multiple conjunctions: “A and B and C” instead of “A, B, and C.”

** Anaphora is the repetition of initial words or phrases.





Acknowledgments



The Opposite of Loneliness would not have been possible without the assiduous efforts of Anne Fadiman, professor, mentor, and friend to Marina during her time at Yale. Anne has invested countless hours working tirelessly to make our dream of sharing Marina’s work a reality. Anne’s generosity of spirit is matched only by her brilliance. No words could adequately express the depth of our gratitude.

At Buckingham Browne & Nichols, Marina studied with Beth McNamara, a gifted teacher of English and kindred spirit. Ms. Mac’s tutelage and encouragement were instrumental to Marina’s development as a writer. We have come to treasure the bond formed with Beth as she has provided steadfast support to our family and expert editorial assistance on the book.

Our grateful recognition goes to literary agents Lane Zachary and Todd Shuster, who helped us to find the perfect publisher for Marina’s work and we deeply appreciate the outstanding team at Scribner: Nan Graham, Shannon Welch, John Glynn, Kate Lloyd, Roz Lippel, Caitlin Dohrenwend, Kara Watson, Dan Cuddy, and Tal Goretsky. Marina would have been so honored.

Much of the vital collecting, organizing, and formatting of Marina’s portfolio has been contributed by Vivian Yee, a friend and fellow English major. We are grateful for the hours of hard work and loving dedication she has contributed to the project.

Marina’s dear friends Chloe Sarbib, Luke Vargas, and Yena Lee have constantly been there for us, helping to keep her spirit close and serving as trusted guides along the journey.

It is easy to understand the inspiration for Marina’s final essay, as we have been embraced by Yale’s amazing community of classmates, professors, and staff. We offer heartfelt thanks to the entire Yale community, and special mention must go to Harold Bloom, John Crowley, Paul Hudak, Amy Hungerford, Deborah Margolin, Donald Margulies, Paul McKinley, Mary Miller, Catherine Nicholson, Cathy Shufro, and Leslie Woodard.

The following people have contributed to Marina’s legacy in a multitude of ways: Will Adams, Monrud Becker, Debby Bisno, Michael Blume, Luke Bradford, Joseph Breen, Alexandra Brodsky, Alex Caron, Wendy and Bill Coke, Carrie Cook, Gabriel Barcia Duran, Olivia Fragale, Stephen Feigenbaum, Jacque Feldman, Cory Finley, Riley Scripps Ford, Adam Freedman, Michael Gocksch, Henry Gottfried, Josh Grossman, Steve Grossman, Jack Hitt, Rachel Hunter, Cam Keady, Duke and Kathy Keegan, Tom and Lori Keegan, Michael and Luette Keegan, Shellie Keegan, Beatrice Kelsey-Watts, Zara Kessler, Julia Lemle, Dan Lombardo, Kate Lund, Richard Miron, David Mogilner, Lauren Motzkin, Nick Murphy, John-Michael Parker, Charlie Polinger, Michael Rosen, Rachel Ruskin, Kate Selker, Julie Shain, Raphael Shapiro, Diana Shoolman, Vivian Shoolman, Mark Sonnenblick, Ben Stango, Kathy and Jeff Starcher, Jim Stone, Eric Schwartz, Brendan Ternus, Jesse Terry, Gerrit Thurston, Sally Vargas, Sigrid von Wendel, Meghan Weiler, Ben Wexler, Joseph Wynant, Yael Zinkow, and Julie Zhu. Apologies to anyone we have inadvertently left out: You were certainly never left out of her heart.