“You're unhappy, see? Youre an unwanted child. You were born out of wedlock.”A PERFECT DAY FOR BANANAFISH HERE were ninety-seven New York advertising men in the ho- tel, and, the way they were the girl in 07 had to wait from noon till almost two-thirty to get her call through. She used the time, though. She read an article in a women’s pocket-size magazine, called “Sex Is Fun—or Hell.” She washed her comb and brush. She took the spor out of the skirt of her beige suit. She moved the button on her Saks blouse. She tweezed out two fresh ly surfaced hairs in her mole. When the ‘operator finally rang her room, she was sitting on the window seat and had al- ‘most finished putting lacquer on the nails of her left hand. She was a girl who for a ringing phone dropped exactly nothing. She looked as if her phone had been ringing continually ever since she had reached puberty. ‘With her little Iuequer brush, while the phone was ringing, she went over the nail of her litle finger, accentuating the line of the moon. She then replaced the cap on the bottle of lacquer and, standing up, passed her left—the wet— hand back and forth through the air. With her dry hand, she picked up a ‘congested ashtray from the window seat and carried it with her over to the night table, on which the phone stood. She sat down on one of the made-up twin beds and—ie was the fifth or sixth ring —picked up the phone. “Hello,” she said, keeping the fingers of her left hand outstretched and away from her white silk dressing gown, which was all that she was wearing, except mules—her rings were in the bathroom “Thave your call to New York now, ‘Mrs. Glass,” the operator said, “Thank you,” said the girl and made room on the night table for the ashtray. A woman’s voice came through. “Muriel? Is that you?” ‘The girl turned the receiver slightly away from her ear. “Yes, Mother. How are you?” she said “Pye been worried to death about you. Why haven’t you phoned? Are youll right?” “T tried to get you last night and the night before. The phone here's been—” “Are you all right, Muriel?” ‘The girl increased the angle between the receiver and her ear. “P'm fine, P'm hot, This is the hottest day they’ve had in Florida in—” “Why haven't you called me? Pve been worried to—” “Mother, darling, don’t yell at me. I can hear you beautifully,” said the girl. “I-called you twice last night. Once just after—” “T told your father you'd probably call last night. But, no, he had to— Are you all right, Muriel? Tell me the truth.” “Pm fine, Stop asking me that, please.” “When did you get there?” “T don’t know. Wednesday morn- ing, early.” “Who drove?” “He did,” said the girl. “And don’t get excited. He drove very nicely. I was amazed.” “He drove? Muriel, you gave me your word of—” “Mother,” the girl interrupted, “I just told you, He drove very nicely. Under fifty the whole way, as'a matter of fact.” “Did he try any of that funny busi= ness with the trees?” “T said he drove very nicely, Mother. Now, please, [asked him to stay close to the white line, and all, and he knew what I meant, and he did. He was even trying not to look at the trees—you could tell, Did Daddy get the car fixed, incidentally?” “Not yet. They want four hundred dollars, just to—” “Mother, Seymour told Daddy that he’d pay for it. There’s no reason “Well, well see. How did he behave —in the car and all?” “All right,” said the girl “Did he Keep calling you that aw- ful” “No, He has something new now.” “What?” “Oh, what's the difference, Moth- er?” “Muriel, T want to brow. Your father—” “All right, allright. He calls me Miss Spiritual Tramp of 1948,” the girl said, and giggled. “cient funny, Muriel. Itisn’t funny at all. Te’s horrible. Ie’s sad, actually. When I think how—” “Mother,” the girl interrupted, “listen to me. You remember that book he sent me from Germany? You know 2 —those German poems. What'd I do with it? Pve been racking my—” “You have it.” “Are you sure?” said the git “Certainly. That is, [have it. It’s in Freddy’s room, You left it here and I didn’t have room for it in the— Why? ‘Does he want it?” “No. Only, he asked me about it, when we were driving down, He wanted to know if Pa read it.” “Te was in German!” “Yes, dear. That doesn’t make any difference,” said the sir, erossing her legs, “He said that the poems happen to be written by the only great poct of the century. He said Ishould’ve bought 4 translation or something. Or learned the language, if you please.” “Awful. Awful. Its sad, actually, is what itis. Your father said last night—” “Just a second, Mother,” the girl said: She went over to the window seat for her cigarettes, lit one, and returned to her seat on the bed. “Mother?” she said, exhaling smoke “Muriel. Now, listen to me.” “T'm listening. “Your father talked to Dr. Sivetski” “Oh?” said the girl “Fle told him everything. At least, he said he did—sou know your father, The trees. ‘That business with the window. ‘Those horrible things he said to Granny about her plans for passing away. What he did with all those lovely pictures from Bermuda—everything.” “Well?” said the girl. “Well. In the first place, he said it was a perfect crime the Army released him from the hospital—my word of honor. He very definitely old your father there's 2 chance—a very great chance, he said—that Seymour ‘may comfictely lose control of himself. My word of honor.” “There's a psychiatrist here at the hotel,” said the gil, “Who? What's his name?” “T don’t know. Rieser or something. He's supposed to be very good.” “Never heard of hae “Well, he’s supposed to be very goo, anyway.” “Muriel, don’t be fresh, please. We're very worried about you. “Your father wanted to wire you last night to ‘come home, as a matter of f—" “Pm not coming home right now, Mother. So relax.” “Muriel, My word of honor. Dr. Sivetski said Seymour may completely lose contr— “just gor here, Mother. ‘This is the first vacation I've had in years, and P’'m rot going to just pack everything and“Fmmm—it looks like that Greek situation is coming to a boil? ‘come home,” said the girl. “I couldn’s travel now anyway. P’m so sunburned Tean hardly move.” “You're badly sunburned? Didn't ‘you use that jar of Bronze I put in your bag? Tputit right—” “T used it. T'm burned anyway.” “That's terrible. Where are you burned?” “All over, dear, all over.” “Thats terrible.” “Pi live.” “Well, sort of,” said the girl. “What'd he say? Where was Sey- mour when you talked to him?” “In the Ocean Room, playing the piano, He’s played the piano both nights we've been here.” “Well, what'd he say?” “Oh, nothing much. He spoke to me first. Twas sitting next to him at Bingo ast night, and he asked me if that wasn’t my husband playing the other room. T said yes, it was, and he asked _me if Seymour’d been’ sick oF something. So I said —” “Why'd he ask that?” “T don’t know, Mother. T guess be~ ‘cause he’s so pale and all,” said the giel. “Anyway, after Bingo he and his wife asked me if T woulda’ like to join them for a drink. So I did. His wife was hor- rible. You remember that aveful dinner dress we saw in Bonwit’s window? The “The green?” “She had it on. And all hips. She kept asking me if Seymour's related to that Suzanne Glass that has that place ‘on Madison Avenue—the millinery.” “What'd he say, though? The doc- tor.” “Oh. Well, nothing much, really. 1 ‘mean we were in the bar and all. Tt was terribly noisy.” “Yes, but did—did you tell him what he tried to do with Granny’s chair?” “No, Mother. I didn’t go into de- tails very much,” said the girl. “PIL probably get a chance to talk to him again. He's in the bar all day long.” “Did he say he thought there was 2 chance he might get—you know—fune JANUARY 3151948 ny or anything? Dosomething to you?” “Not exactly,” said the girl. “He had to have more facts, Mother. ‘They have to know about your childhood— alltharstuff. Ttold you, we could hard- ly talk, i was so noisy in there.” “Well. How's your blue coat?” “Allright. Thad some of the padding taken out.” “How are the clothes this year?” “Terrible, But out of this world, ‘You see sequins—everything,” said the girl, “How's your room?” “All right. Just all right, though. We couldn't get the room we had be= fore the war,” said the girl. “The peo- ple are awful this year. You should see hat sits next to usin the dining room. At the next table. ‘They look as if they drove down in a truck.” “Well, e's that way all over. How's your ballerina?” “Tes too long. told. you it was too Tong.” “Muriel, P'm only going to ask you once more—are you really all right?” “Yes, Mother,” said the girl. “For the ninetieth time.” “And you don't want to come home?” “No, Mother.” “Your father sad lastnight that he'd be more than willing to pay for it if you'd yo away someplace by yourself and think things over. You could take a lovely cruise. We both thought—” “No, thanks,” said the girl, and un- crossed her legs. “Mother, this call is “When I think of how you waited for that boy all through the war—I ‘mean when you think ofall those erazy Tittle wives who—” “Mother,” said the girl, “we'd better hang up, Seymour may come in any minute? “Whereis he?” “On the beach.” “On the beach? By himself? Does he behave himself on the beach?” “Mother,” said the girl, “you talk about him as though he were a raving “T said nothing of the kind, Mugel.” “Well, you sound that way. I mean all he does is lie there. He won't take his bathrobe off.” “He won't take his bathrobe off? Why not?” “7 don’t know. T guess because he’s so pale. ‘My goodness, he needs the sun. Can’t you make him?” “You know Seymour,” said the girl, and crossed her legs again, “He says heTHE NEW YORKER doesn't want a lot of fools looking at his tattoo.” “He docsn’t have any tattoo! Did he get one in the Army?” “No, Mother. No, dear,” said the girl, and stood up. “Listen, Pil call you tomorrow, maybe.” “Muriel, Now, listen to me.” “Yes, Mother,” said the girl, putting her weight on her right leg. “Call me the instant he does, or says, anything at all funny—you know what Tmean, Do you hear me?” “Mother, P’m not afraid of Sey “Muriel, E want you to promise me.” “AMI right, I promise. Goodbye, Mother,” said the girl, “My love to Daddy.” She hung up. EE more glass,” said Sybil Car- enter, who was staying at the hotel with her mother. “Did you sce ‘more glass?” “Pussycat, top saying that. Its drive ing Mommy absolutely crazy. Hold still please.” Mrs. Carpenter was putting sun-tan cil on Sybils shoulders, spreading it down over the delicate, winglike blades of her hack, Sybil was sitting insecurely. ‘on a huge, inflated beach ball, facing the ‘ocean. She was wearing 2 eanary-yellow tworpiece bathing suit, one piece of which she would not actually be needing for another nine or ten years. “Tr was really just an ordinary silk handkerchief—you could see when you {got up close,” ssid the woman in the heach chair beside Mrs. Carpenter's, “I T knew how she tied it. Te was really darling.” “Te sounds darling,” Mrs. Carpenter agreed. “Sybil, old still pussy.” “Did you see more glass?” said Sybil Mrs. Carpenter sighed, “All right,” she said. She re- placed the cap on the sun-tan~ oil bottle. “Now run and play, pussy. Mommy's going up to the hotel and have a Martini with Mrs, Hubbel. Pilbring you the oli Set loose, Sybil immediate~ ly ran down to the fat part of the beach and began to walk in the direction of Fisher- ‘man’s Pavilion. Stopping only to sink a foot in a soggy, col- lapsed castle, she was ‘soon out of the area reserved for guests of the hotel. She walked for about a quarter of a mile and then suddenly broke into an oblique run up the soft part of the beach. She stopped short when she reached the place where a young man was lying on his back. “Are you going in the water, see more glass?” she said, The young man started, his right hand going to the lapels of his terry- cloth robe, He turned over on his stomach, letting a sausaged towel fall away from his eyes, and squinted up at Siti “Hey. Hello, Sybil.” “Are you going in the water?” “I was waiting for you,” said the young man, “What's new?” “What?” said Sybil. “What's new? Whae's on the pro- “My daddy’s coming tomorrow on a nairiplane,” Sybil sad, kicking sand, “Not in my face, baby,” the young man said, putting his hand on Sybil’s ankle. “Well, its about time he got here, your daddy. ve been expecting him hourly. Hourly.” “Where's the lady?” Sybil said, “Thelady?” Theyoungman brushed some sand out of his thin hair. “That's hard to say, Sybil. She may be in any tone of a thousand places. At the hair- dresser’s, Having her hair dyed mink Or making dolls for poor children, in her room.” Lying prone now, he made two fists, set one on top of the other, and rested his chin on the top one. “Ask me something else, Sybil,” he said. “That's a fine bathing suit you have on. If there’s one thing I like, i's a blue bath= ing suit.” Sybil stared at him, then looked down at her protruding stomach. “This is a 23 yellow,” she said. “This isa yellow.” “It is? Come a litle closer.” Sybil took a step forward. “You're absolutely right. fool Lam.” “Are you going in the water?” Sybil ssid “D’m seriously considering it. I'm ving it plenty of thought, Sybil, you'll be glad to know.” Sybil prodded the rubber foat thatthe young man sometimes used as a head- rest. “Tt needs ary” she said. “You're right. [tneeds more air than T’m willing to admit.” He took away his fists and let his chin rest on the sand. “Sybil.” he said, “you're looking fine. Tes good to see you. Tell me about yourself.” He reached in front of him and took both of Sybil’s ankles in his hands. “Pm Capricorn,” he said. “What are you?” “Sharon Lipschutz said you let her sit on the piano seat with you,” Sybil ssid, “Sharon Lipschutz sai tha Sybil nodded vigorously He let go of her ankles, drew in his hhands, and laid the side of is face on his right forearm. “Well,” he sai, “you know how those things happen, Sybil. I was sitting there, playing. And you were nowhere in sight. And Sharon Lipschutz. came over and sat_down next to me. I couldn’t push her off, could 12” ¥en.” “Oh, no. No. I couldn't do that,” ssid the young man, “Pil tell you what Tid do, though.” “What? “TL pretended she was you.” Sybil immediaely stooped and began What 224 to dig in the sand. water,” she said “All right,” said the young man, think T can work it in.” “Neat time, push her off,” Sybil said, “Push who off?” “Sharon Lipschutz.” “Ah, Sharon Lipschutz,” said. the young man. “How that name comes up. Mixing memory and desire.” He sud- denly got to his feet. He looked at the ocean. “Sybil,” he said, “Pl tell you what welll do. Welllseeif we ean catch 1 bananafish,” “A what?” “A bananafish,” he said, and undid the hele of his robe. He took off the robe. His shoulders were white and narrow, and his trunks were royal blue. He folded the robe, first lengthwise, then in thirds, He unrolled the towelhehad used over his eyes, spread it out on the sand, and then laid the folded robe on top of it, He bent over, picked up the float, and sceured it under his right arm. ‘Then, ‘with his lee hand, he took Sybi?s hand, ‘The two started to walk down to the “T imagine you've seen quite 2 few bananafish in your day,” the young man said Sybil shook her head. “Let's xo in the “You haven't? Where do you live, anyway??? “T don’t know,” said Sybil “Sure you know. You must know. Sharon Lipschuez knows where she lives, and she's only three and a half.” Sybil stopped walking and yanked her hand away from him. She picked up an ordinary beach shell and looked at it with elaborate interest. She threw it down. “Whirly Wood, Connecticut,” she said, and resumed walking, stomach foremost “Whirly Wood, Connecticut,” said the young man. “Ts that anywhere near Whirly Wood, Connecticut, by any chan Sybil looked at him, ““That’s where five,” she said impatiently. “I five in Whirly Wood, Connecticut.” She ran afew steps ahead of him, caught up her left foot in her left hand, and hopped two or three times, “You have no idea how clear that makes everything,” the young man said, Sybil released her foot. “Did you read ‘Little Black Sambo?” she sid. “Tes very funny you ask me that,” he said, It so happens I just finished reading it lst night.” He reached down and took back Sybil’s hand. “What JANUARY 3151948 “Did the tigers run all around that “T thought they'd never stop. I never i ecebrrere ely ec Geta “Only six\” said the 'young man. “Do you call that only?” “Do you like wax?” Sybil asked. “Do I like what?” asked the young “Wax.” “Very much. Don’t you?” Sybil nodded. “Do you lke olives?” she asked. “Olives—yes. Olives and wax, I never go anyplace with “Do you like Sharon Lipschutz?” Sybil asked. “Yes, Yes, I do,” said the young man. “What T like particularly about her & that she never does anything mean to little dogs in the lobby of the hotel, ‘That little toy bull that belongs to tha lady from Canada, for instance. You probably won't believe this, but some little girs lke to poke that little dog with balloon sticks. Sharon doesn’t. She's never mean or unkind. ‘That's why I Tike her so much.” Sybil. was silent. "T Tike to chew candles,” she said finally. “Who doesn’t?” said the young man, getting his feet wet. “Wow! Its cold.” He dropped the rub- ber float on its back. “No, wait just a second, Sybil, Waitll we get out'a ltde bit.” ‘They waded out till the water was up to Sybil’s waist. Then the young man picked her up and laid her down on her stomach on the float. “Don’t you ever wear a bathing cap or anything?” he asked, “Don’t let go,” Sybil or dered. “You hold me, “Miss Carpenter, Please. T know my business,” the young man stid. “You just ‘keep your eyes open for any bananafish. This is a perfect day for banana fish.” “T don’t see any,” Sybil said, “That's understandable. ‘Their habits are very pecul- iar. Very peculiar.” He Kept pushing the float. The water was not quite up to his chest. “They lead a veryTHE NEW YORKER tragic life.” he said. “You know what they do, Sybil?” She shook her head. “Well, they swim into a hole where there’s a lot of bananas. They're very ordinary-looking fish when they swim jn. But once they get in, they behave like pigs. Why, Pve known some ba nanafish to swim into a banana hole and fat as many as seventy-eight bananas.” He edged the float and its passenger a foot closer to the horizon. “Naturally, after that they're so fat they can’t get ‘out of the hole again. Can’t fit through the door.” “Not too far 0 happens to them? Fat happens to who?” “The bananafish.” “Oh, you mean after they cat so many bananas they can't get out of the banana hole?” “Yes,” said Sybil. gc het That to ell you, Si They “Why?” asked Sybil. “Well, they get banana fever. Isa terrible disease.” “Here comes a wave,” Sybil said nervously “We'll ignore it. We'll snub it,” ssid the young man. “Two snobs.” He took Sybil’s ankles in his hands. and pressed down and forward. The float nosed over the top of the wave. The water soaked Sybil’s blond hair, but her scream was full of pleasure. With her hand, when the float was level again, she wiped away a flat, wet band of hair from her eyes, and re ported, “T just saw one.” “Saw what, my love?” “A bananafish.” ‘My God, no!” said the young man. “Did he have any bananas in bis mouth?” “Yes,” said Sybil. “Six.” ‘The young man suddenly picked up ‘one of Sybil’s wet feet, which were drooping over the end of the fluat, and kisced the arch, “Hey!” said the owner of the foot, turning around. “Hey, yourself! We're going it now. You had enough?” “Nol” “Sorry,” he said, and pushed the float toward shore until Sybil got off it. He carried it the rest of the way. “Goodbye,” said Sybil, and ran with out regret inthe direction of the hotel. Sybil said. “What HE. young man put on his robe, closed the lapels tight, and jammed his towel into his pocket. He picked up the slimy wet, cumbersome 25 “No, no, Agnes! This is mine, You paid the bus fare.” float and put it under his arm. He plod- ded alone through the soft, hot sand toward the hotel, On the sub-main floor of the hotel, which the management directed bathers to use, a woman with zine salve on her nose got into the elevator with the young man. “T see you're looking at my feet,” he said to her when the ear was in motion. “Theg your pardon?” said the wome “T said I see you're looking at my feet.” “T teg your pardon, I happened to be looking at the floor,” said the wom an, and faced the doors of the car. “TE you want to look at my feet, say 0,” said the young man. “But don’t be a Godl-damned sneak about it.” “Let me out here, please,” the wom= an said quickly to the girl operating the ‘The car doors,opened and the wom= ot ff without looking back. “Lhave two normal feet and I can’t see the slightest God-damned reason why anybody should stare at them,” ssid the young man, “Five, please.” He took his room key out of his robe pocket He got off at the fifth floor, walked down the hall, and let himself into 507. ‘The room smelled of new calfskin lug~ gage and nail-laequer remover. He glanced at the girl lying asleep ‘on one of the twin beds. Then he went over to one of the pieces of luggage, opened it, and from under a pile of shorts and undershirts he took out an Ortgies calibre 7.65 automatic. He re- leased the mazazine, looked at it, then reinserted it. He cocked the piece. Then he went over and sat down on the unoc- cupied twin bed, looked at the girl, aimed the pistol, and fired a bullet through his right temple. —J. D. Sauince. Whitehead’s next great work was his “Process and Reality.” Hardly read by his contemporaries and colleagues, not un= derstood by reviewers and most of his burisic hay lead Crimson. ‘That'll do ‘attained the starus indispensable work—Hervard