“Wants”

by

Grace Paley

I saw my ex-husband in the street. I was sitting on the steps of the new library.

Hello, my life, I said. We had once been married for twenty-seven years, so I felt
justified.

He said, What? What life? No life of mine.

I said, O.K. I don’t argue when there’s real disagreement. I got up and went into
the library to see how much I owed them.
The librarian said $32 even and you’ve owed it for eighteen years. I didn’t deny
anything. Because I don’t understand how time passes. I have had those books. I
have often thought of them. The library is only two blocks away.

My ex-husband followed me to the Books Returned desk. He interrupted the

librarian, who had more to tell. In many ways, he said, as I look back, I attribute
the dissolution of our marriage to the fact that you never invited the Bertrams to
dinner.

That’s possible, I said. But really, if you remember: first, my father was sick that
Friday, then the children were born, then I had those Tuesday-night meetings,
then the war began.Then we didn’t seem to know them any more. But you’re
right. I should have had them to dinner.

I gave the librarian a check for $32. Immediately she trusted me, put my past
behind her, wiped the record clean, which is just what most other municipal
and/or state bureaucracies will not do.

I checked out the two Edith Wharton books I had just returned because I’d read
them so long ago and they are more apropos now than ever. They were The
House of Mirth and The Children, which is about how life in the United States in
New York changed in twenty-seven years fifty years ago.
A nice thing I do remember is breakfast, my ex-husband said. I was surprised. All
we ever had was coffee. Then I remembered there was a hole in the back of the
kitchen closet which opened into the apartment next door. There, they always ate
sugar-cured smoked bacon. It gave us a very grand feeling about breakfast, but
we never got stuffed and sluggish.

That was when we were poor, I said.

When were we ever rich? he asked.

Oh, as time went on, as our responsibilities increased, we didn’t go in need. You
took adequate financial care, I reminded him. The children went to camp four
weeks a year and in decent ponchos with sleeping bags and boots, just like
everyone else. They looked very nice. Our place was warm in winter, and we had
nice red pillows and things.

I wanted a sailboat, he said. But you didn’t want anything.

Don’t be bitter, I said. It’s never too late.

No, he said with a great deal of bitterness. I may get a sailboat. As a matter of
fact I have money down on an eighteen-foot two-rigger. I’m doing well this year
and can look forward to better. But as for you, it’s too late. You’ll always want
nothing.

He had had a habit throughout the twenty-seven years of making a narrow

remark which, like a plumber’s snake, could work its way through the ear down
the throat, half-way to my heart. He would then disappear, leaving me choking
with equipment. What I mean is, I sat down on the library steps and he went
away.

I looked through The House of Mirth, but lost interest. I felt extremely accused.
Now, it’s true, I’m short of requests and absolute requirements. But I do
want something.
I want, for instance, to be a different person. I want to be the woman who brings
these two books back in two weeks. I want to be the effective citizen who
changes the school system and addresses the Board of Estimate on the troubles
of this dear urban center.

I had promised my children to end the war before they grew up.
 I wanted to have been married forever to one person, my ex-husband or my
present one. Either has enough character for a whole life, which as it turns out is
really not such a long time. You couldn’t exhaust either man’s qualities or get
under the rock of his reasons in one short life.

Just this morning I looked out the window to watch the street for a while and saw
that the little sycamores the city had dreamily planted a couple of years before
the kids were born had come that day to the prime of their lives.

Well! I decided to bring those two books back to the library. Which proves that
when a person or an event comes along to jolt or appraise me I can take some
appropriate action, although I am better known for my hospitable remarks.

 
1. What is the significance of narrator meeting her ex-husband at the library?
2. How does the narrator reflects on her past dIsisions and relationships?
3. hOW DOES THE NARRATOR'S INTERACTIONS WITYH THE LIBRARIAN frame the storie's themes?
4. How does the story explore the theme of regret and unfulfilled desires?
5. Why do you think the story is titled wants?
6. How might the story change if it were told from the ex-husband's perspective?

necklace
1. What kind f life does Mathilde loisel desire, and why does she feel dissatisfied with her current situation?
2. How does Mathilde's husband try to make her happy?
3. What is the significance of the invitation to the ball?
4. How does Mathilde react when she realizes she has lost the necklace?
5. How do the Loisels manage to replace the lost necklace, and how does this desision affect their life?
6. How does the story explores the theme of materialism and its consequences?
7. In what ways does the necklace cmment on the class system and social aspirations?
8. What role does irony play in the story, particularly in the ending?
9. What message does the story convey about appeareances and reality?
10. Do you sympathize with Mathilde. Why or Why not?
11. What lessons can be learnt from the story about the pursuit of wealth and status?