Going by Amy Hempel
"Going" by Amy Hempel presents a nuanced exploration of the psychological and physical aftermath of a car accident experienced by the narrator. Following a crash that leaves him with only minor injuries but significant memory loss, he finds himself in a hospital grappling with dual perceptions of reality—feeling both distant and present, hot and cold, aware and forgetful. The narrative highlights the disconnection between traumatic events and the perceived lessons that emerge from them, as the narrator reflects on the futility of certain realizations presented by his teachers. Interwoven with his hospital experience are vivid memories and sensory hallucinations linking him to pivotal moments in his past, such as the burning of his childhood home and the death of his mother. Through interactions with hospital staff, notably a night nurse who brings him comfort, Hempel’s story captures moments of levity amidst the stark realities of pain and recovery. The themes of memory, loss, and the search for meaning resonate throughout, inviting readers to reflect on the complexities of human experience and the connections we forge in times of crisis.
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Going by Amy Hempel
First published: 1985
Type of plot: Domestic realism
Time of work: The 1970's or 1980's
Locale: Southwestern United States
Principal Character:
The narrator , an unnamed college-age man
The Story
The narrator is in the hospital following an accident in which he was the only victim, having flipped his car twice while going sixty miles an hour on a straight, flat road and landed in a ditch. He takes some offense at a typo on the hospital menu, "the pot roast will be severed with buttered noodles" because some part of himself could have been severed during the accident; instead, he only has twenty stitches on his chin and a two-day memory loss.
He reports several dual experiences: experiencing things as far away and close at the same time, while he was still in the same place; in the ditch, feeling that the air was unbelievably hot while his skin was unbelievably cold; thinking the accident happened fast and slowly at the same time; and having a memory loss that encompasses two days. "Maybe those days will come back and maybe they will not. In the meantime, how's this: I can't even remember all I've forgotten," he says. He also comments on the dual presence, of someone's being someplace physically at first, with only the idea of their remaining after they are gone.
Because the narrator hit his head during the accident, the doctor has kept him in the hospital for several days of observation. It does not matter to him that he will miss a few days of school because the accident was a learning experience—at least, that is what everyone thinks it should be. He recalls that one of his teachers had related to the class that once while he was drinking a glass of orange juice, he had realized some day he would die. The narrator compares the teacher's observations with certain of his own, which seem equally obvious and therefore of little use as learning experiences.
He remembers being in a bar near the Bonneville flats two days before the accident and watching the bartender demonstrate how putting a drop of tequila on a scorpion's tail makes it sting itself to death. He also can remember the accident—just nothing in between.
He likes the night nurse especially because she "makes every other woman look like a sex-change" and because he likes having a woman in his room at night. When he cannot sleep, she returns to his room with a telephone book and they look up funny names such as Calliope Ziss and Maurice Pancake.
Embedded in his story of the car accident and of the stay in the hospital are two incidents from his past, which correspond with certain olfactory hallucinations that he has experienced. Once, he smelled smoke when his parents' house was burning down three states away; another time, he smelled his mother's face powder in his room the night she died three states away. Now in the hospital room he has a third—he smells a worm.