Close Read: The Auctioneer

“He gets up there on that bandstand and I don’t know him, hardly. He’s like one of them fish that can puff up to four times its ordinary size.  Sharp as a whip, he is.  And what a talker! Makes me seem like the silent type.” (Page 6)

This introduction to Perly Dunsmore, the sinister title character in the book The Auctioneer by Joan Samson, sets expectations for the reader on what to expect for the book.  Directly, Perly is ethereal and soothing, with and upstanding actions and words but sinister doings get delivered through other characters (the dialogue above is delivered by new deputy Bobby Gore).

In the book, a stranger comes to town and conducts auctions to bolster the funding of the police force, first asking the residents for knickknacks and throwaway items.  When either Perly or his increasingly armed deputies show up every Thursday, intimidating their way into additional offerings, the events increase in sinister nature.  As this happens, Perly continues the façade.  “We’re going to keep Harlowe a wonderful place to live,” Perly said.  “Thanks to generous souls like you” (page 48) comes direct from Perly, but the intimidation comes from the deputies with brandishing revolvers in brand-new holsters. 

The device continues with a family member (Mim)’s visit to town.

“How could he fall under is own bulldozer?” Mim asked, wishing she could find out where the Collinses stood with the auctioneer.

“Takes talent, don’t it?” Fanny [Shopkeeper]said.  “This has been one bad year for accidents.” (p. 70)

This is the first mention of real violence to a member of the town in a questionable way, delivered through others.  When the tension ramps up with Perly and crew in-house to take cows from the family, the device continues.

Gore leaned against the truck watching.  “We’re taking cows, he said.”

“Cows!”

“Just a couple,” Perly said and winked at Mim who was standing behind the glass in the door looking out.  “Figure that’s two fewer to milk.  Or if you’ve got a few that aren’t milking at the moment, we’ll settle for those.” (p.78)

Perly continues through this scene which ends with he and the gun-brandishing deputies taking two cows.  Through this, Perly lets others do the dirty work.

On page 128, the most chilling scene of the book plays out with Perly auctioning off two children from town through an invite-only affair leaked to the main family of protagonists. 

Perly returned to the high pulpit.  “God’s ways seem dark,” he said softly, “to deprive this perfect child of home and natural kin.” Perly looked out over the people, his eyes gone flat and accusing, as if it were they who had abandoned the child.  Finally he leaned back on his heels and smiled.  “I’d keep this little beauty for myself, if I could find me a wife,” he said.  He shuffled a sheaf of papers before him on the pulpit…

“Now keep in mind,” Perly went on, his voice rising, “this is a white child with the very best racial antecedents.” (p.129)

Throughout this scene, the author maintains Perly’s dignity through words and actions, pairing a dark premise of an underground child auction with as good a moral fiber as one could own given the circumstance.  It’s the circumstances that play on the reader and cycled through my head as I read this, and the questions of how this came about and where the children came from that fueled this event.

This pairing of moral-as-possible actions with difficult circumstances continues through the book as the events worsen.  When the father (John) of the main family sets fires when he learns of the plan to flush out residents to make way for a shiny new development, Perly calls a town hall, a prolonged scene where the town turns on him and he gives in to very little.

“Silence!”  Shouted Perly.  “You’re wrong.  You’re all wrong!  You misunderstand everything.  I’m only one man… only-”

“I say we understood too damn much for too damn long and kept too damn quiet,” cried Mickey…

“There’s no law,” cried Perly. “Nothing I’ve done is against the law.” (p.210)

Even in the Town Hall that will create an angry mob, one that will chase him into his house before setting fire to it, the author keeps him composed, preaching misunderstanding and saying “Whatever I’ve done, you’ve let me do.” P.210.  The device doesn’t divert – he admits no guilt other than having sex with a girl in the town to the town (and to the reader), and the closure the town craves never comes, even on the final two pages of the book.  Perly’s house ablaze, a figure emerges on the roof and the town chooses not to rescue him.  In recovering the body they find:

“The hair was not black and curly.  It was straight and silky and brown.  The eyes, staring now without sight, were not black but grayish blue.  And the face was that of Mickey Cogswell.” (p.222)

Even in chasing Perly from town, the townsfolk got no satisfaction from his end as Perly simply disappeared.  In the final words of the novel, by offering no release from the evil and therefore no end, the author finishes the character study of Perly as an ominous off-page force sheathed in on-page pleasantries and evasion.