A woman with a passion for men and tigers
Obscure professions. Have I mentioned this before? They’re a bit of a “thing” of mine. I like reading about other people, other worlds, so far removed from mine that it feels like a different universe entirely. Air hostesses, explorers, drug dealers, ballet dancers, all with different everyday vocabulary and a routine that is the opposite of
mine. Terms that they are familiar with are terms I nestle in my mouth, only pulling out like a party trick whenever I feel the need to impress. If I ever met someone from one of the many odd jobs I read about, I’m convinced we could be friends, or at least, friendly, because I’d be able to talk to them in their language, and they’d know I may look like a writer on the outside, but inside I’m just like them — navigating a difficult world with whatever I have to offer.
Those are also the books I like to buy. So, when I came across The Final Confession Of Mabel Stark I took one look at the blurb and snapped it up. But then, I was in the middle of moving houses and cities, and with all the turmoil and the plain everyday inconveniences, the book remained unread in my to-read pile for a very long time. Then, the actual move happened, and I found myself, for the first time in many years, completely without the internet. There is nothing weirder than waking up in the morning, bright and early and reaching for your laptop and realising you have nothing to do. And finally, I got around to Mabel Stark and was completely bowled over. You see, Mabel Stark was a real woman. A tiger tamer for a circus. And this book (by Robert Hough) was her fictional autobiography. Some details changed and embellished, but mostly, the author reassures us in the last page, pretty truthful.
The voice that Hough chose to keep for her was that of someone fond of colloquialisms. She spoke in slang, sometimes, had a passion for men and tigers, and spoke honestly and truthfully. I could imagine her, smoky voiced, a little tired, a little sentimental as she chronicled her life from beginning to end. I began to see tigers as she must have seen them, beautiful wild animals that could be tamed into doing tricks. I have a cat myself, so it wasn’t too hard to picture the emerald eyes she was so fond of, the flick of the tail, the “special spot” where they liked to be rubbed.
Who hasn’t wanted to run away and join the circus? The nice thing about this book is that it lets you do just that, while you’re still curled up in bed.
The columnist is an author
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