Michael Griffith on Theodore Wheeler’s Prize-Winning Story:
In Theodore Wheeler’s “The Current State of the Universe,” a man working for a professional vengeance service discovers that the arithmetic of justice may turn out to be, on second thought, more like the hopelessly bewildering multivariable calculus of justice. The piece is a fantastic example of a high-concept story that manages to do wonderfully playful, inventive things without ever feeling like a riff or a vehicle for an author who’s showing off his chops. Wheeler perfectly and poignantly balances the psychological plight of his protagonist with the high-wire act of the story’s conceit.
Theodore Wheeler on “The Current State of the Universe”:
The seed for my story was something many first-year grad students may experience. My car died the first week of winter semester at Creighton University, and over the following months, I was forced to make my way around on foot. Omaha is anything but pedestrian friendly, and I was nearly run-down in the street so often that I began to have revenge fantasies featuring these misanthropic motorists who almost hurt me. I’m only a little ashamed to say that it gave me a fair amount of pleasure to think of a vehicle that had just nearly flattened me heading straight for a dozen or so drywall screws lying point-up in the road. Who doesn’t love seeing faceless villains get what they deserve?
The problem, however, was that I didn’t know if they’d received their come-uppance, and this ruined the fantasy. Taking it to the next logical step, I found myself reminiscing about a friend from high school who, let’s say, had a strong urge toward vigilantism. He was the type who, to quote from the story, liked to “teach people lessons on karma by fucking up their property.” This friend was also quite industrious, and I wondered what it would have been like if he’d mutated his bent for violence into a mercenary-for-hire business. I realized, then, that this was probably a story I needed to write rather than a business anyone should actually operate. So I began writing it.
At the time, I was reading a bunch of Machiavelli and Marilynne Robinson, and both left their mark on this story. The Prince provided some theoretical structure, not only for the story itself but also for the subversive corporation the narrator works for. Robinson’s novel Home had me thinking about Calvinism and predestination, and thus helped illuminate how my narrator might try to justify his behavior, and also how, when his life takes difficult turns, guilt must overcome him.
Next week, we’ll post comments from Don Bogen and Ashley Seitz Kramer on Ashley’s prize-winning poem “Winter Storyboard,” winner of the Schiff Prize in Poetry. The winning story and poem will appear in our May 2011 issue.
