Horseman

When I read the short story Horseman by Richard Russo for the first time, I felt a considerable amount of compassion for Janet. I have often wondered if I sympathize too easily with the main characters of stories. But this time, it felt like more than just sympathizing; I felt as though I might be glimpsing into my own future as an English student who will probably end up in grad school, and follow the natural course of events until I find myself teaching at some point. I couldn’t help but shudder at the words that Bellamy threw around so easily when he told her he had “serious misgivings” about her work. After the class discussion the next day, I was almost convinced that I was letting her off too easily, and that she was really just a whiny, self-centered woman who needed a good wake-up call like the one Bellamy served up so casually. However, after reading it a second time, I have to stick to my first impressions. Janet may not be the best mom or the most sincere wife, but I had to ask myself, how would I deal with having a child who had special needs, like Marcus? If I was the less preferred parent, if my very presence set up tension for my family interactions, wouldn’t the implications of that leak into other aspects of my life? And in regards to her work, if it seemed that no one (students, Bellamy, Newhouse) was taking me seriously, wouldn’t I try to regain my bearing by taking myself more seriously? I know the answers to those questions would vary from reader to reader, but as for me, I can’t say that I would behave much differently than she did. After feeling as though Russo had snuck into my own future and come back to write an accusatory piece about it, I was more hopeful when he gave Janet the possibility for warmer human connections when she decided to give James Cox a second chance, and invited Newhouse to come for Thanksgiving dinner. Janet may not be the type of person I’d head down to the pub with for a pint, but I still feel a profound connection to her.