Dead Doormen, Caricature and Helen Ellis

One way to illuminate the truth of something is to enlarge its most pertinent features out of proportion. We are all familiar with caricature in art, often with respect to political figures or celebrities. For example, Richard Nixon was rarely caricatured without having considerable emphasis placed on his trademark five o'clock shadow, suggesting an ever-present dark side to his character and a certain degree of shiftiness.

All too true.

Caricature is also a form of literature and when deployed, an author exaggerates or over-simplifies certain aspects of a character or a situation to entertain readers or to make a point. If the point is to ridicule the subject, the technique is akin to satire.



This topic came to mind when I read "Dead Doormen," a story by Helen Ellis that forms part of a recently published collection of tales entitled "American Housewife."

In "Dead Doormen," Ellis depicts a woman who has signed on as the wife of a man who inherits his mother's prewar penthouse apartment in a Manhattan co-op -- the sort of place where the elevator door opens to a small foyer that serves only the penthouse. It's a life where everything must be unchanged and immaculate and, of course, the stay-at-home housewife is going gradually nuts -- to the point where she starts seeing dead doormen coming back to life, or did they really die in the first place? It doesn't matter.

Ellis, who lives in New York City with her husband, clearly knows the territory. She has a fine eye and ear for detail, and a commendably crisp writing style.

"My husband is the co-op board president like my husband's mother was the co-op board president before him. Every three months, members gather around our cocktail table and whisper as if the wall sconces are bugged. A co-op is managed by money, but more so by gossip. Divorce, senility, bed bugs, leaks. The board knows all. And its president must decide what to do and then do it."

But he can only succeed if he has a wife who looks and acts trustworthy.

"'I'm such a good actress, my husband's reelected without contest every term."

Doormen are all-important to a Manhattan co-op and its residents. In Ellis's story, much revolves around a doorman named Eddie Chang, who has been accused of seducing the wife of the owner of apartment 10B. Since he can't easily be fired, he gradually becomes part of the life of the unnamed woman Ellis is writing about. That's Chang's undoing -- maybe.