Sherwood Anderson’s ‘The Untold Lie’

 If there’s magic in fiction, it’s this: Writers can get at notions in fiction that plodding essay writers like me have a hard time reaching.

I think that one of the obvious — and thus overlooked — aspects of being human is a sense of place. Some of us love seashores, while others love the hills. But all of us have some capacity to appreciate a place.

And those who love a place can sometimes be driven a little crazy by it.

Sherwood Anderson’s story “The Untold Lie” is about two farm hands. Hal, who is 22, has gotten his girlfriend pregnant, and suspects something similar happened to Ray, who is about 50. Ray once had dreams of going west as a young man, even going to sea. But he stayed on a farm as a hired hand, supporting his wife and children.

Hal’s blunt question: Is it worth it?

These men have worked side by side without really knowing each other. And then, a moment where honesty is called for — honesty that’s beyond the normal boundaries.

Is it worth it?

Ray, to his surprise, couldn’t tell Hal. He knows what he’s supposed to say, but can’t bring himself to say it.

Later, Ray’s wife sends him into town on an errand. It’s a chance for Ray to meet Hal in town and tell him what’s on his mind.

It was just growing dark and the scene before him was lovely. All the low hills were washed with color and even the little clusters of bushes in the corners by the fences were alive with beauty. The whole world seemed to Ray Pearson to have become alive with something just as he and Hal had suddenly become alive when they stood in the cornfield staring into each other’s eyes.

The beauty of the place made Ray disoriented, just as a moment of unexpected honesty with another human being had made him feel strange, almost lost.