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The Dangers of Cynicism
Anders is a cynical and misanthropic man who is described as having forgotten “the pleasure of giving respect.” He judges and is critical of everything from his wife and daughter to the women in line in front of him, from the mural on the bank’s ceiling to the robbers who are threatening him. Anders’s judgmental personality may be either a contributing factor to, and/or a byproduct of, his choice of career—he is a book reviewer who is famous for his scathing remarks. He quite literally gets paid to be cynical. However, his story is a cautionary tale. Anders is unable to turn off his judgmental personality, even to save his own life. That the robber shoots and kills Anders because Anders cannot stop himself from mocking him illustrates the extent to which this propensity to criticize has consumed his life. The reader learns that Anders used to be a loving, empathetic man who appreciated art and celebrated the accomplishments of others. However, time has hardened Anders; now he is the arrogant and cruel man we meet at the start of the story, one whose tragic downfall is largely his own doing.
The Power of Language
Over the course of the story, the reader comes to realize that the cynical and bad-tempered Anders once was enthralled with language and the written word. As a young man, he would commit passages from literature to memory so that he could recite them to himself and give himself “the shivers” at will, he was moved to tears while listening to a professor recite Aeschylus in the original Greek, he felt pride when he held a book that was written by a former classmate, and he presumably became a book reviewer because he loved to read. Most notably, in Anders’s final moments, he recalls a childhood memory in which he was struck by the unexpected “music" of the phrase “they is.” All of these examples prove that language once offered Anders something meaningful—a means of connecting with his own emotions and the world around him. As a result, Anders’s loss of self is tied to his ultimate disconnect with language. Anders does not read for pleasure or to be enlightened anymore. Instead, he regards the pile of books on his desk with “boredom and dread” as opposed to excitement and curiosity. Even the “elegant savagery” with which he reviews books is tempered by weariness—it’s clear he doesn’t even derive enjoyment from tearing down other writers. Nothing sparks the “music” of the unexpected phrasing of “they is” anymore; in fact, nothing is unexpected, and he now feels that everything he reads reminds him of something else. Tellingly, Anders does not even remember the foundational moment on the baseball field until he is seconds from death, offering him a strong dose of much-needed clarity far too late. Through Anders, it can be argued that we cease to exist the moment we cease to feel wonder and passion.
The Simplicity of Childhood
Anders is shot in the head and killed towards the end of the story. He notably does not spend his final moments watching his entire life flash before his eyes. Though the narrator describes several key events he might look back on, they are not what Anders remembers. Instead, his dying brain fixates on a single, specific memory of a childhood baseball game. Anders remembers everything about that day, including the oppressive summer heat, the yellow grass, the whir of the insects, and listening to other neighborhood boys debate the merits of famous baseball players. In particular, he remembers his friend Coyle’s cousin, who said that he wanted to play shortstop because it is the “best position they is.” Anders recalls being filled with an innocent, childlike wonder at Coyle’s cousin’s unusual vernacular, that the sound of those unexpected syllables was like “music” to him. The young Anders, whispering the phrase “they is” to himself on a summer afternoon, juxtaposes the adult Anders that the reader meets in line at the bank at the end of his life, full of anger, impatience, and judgment. It’s not clear when, exactly, Anders became so cynical, but it’s clear this memory represents for him a time when he was truly happy. That such a moment occurred so long ago is quite tragic, and confirms the idea that a life spent without wonder the likes of which once experiences as a child is not a life at all.
