This story comes from Johnson’s interconnected, profoundly weird collection, and is the one that I go back to read again and again. It’s about a voyeur who works in the titular Beverley Home for the disabled and elderly, who begins peeping into the home of a woman and her husband after the sound of her singing in the shower calls him in from the road on his way home. What strikes me is Johnson’s unsentimental presentation of the things we do when no one watches, and the weight and complexity of loneliness. He reminds me that the best writer lays judgement aside and just watches: witnesses possibilities, taboos, truths, and the scattered, slow, multi-layered world going by. Johnson’s ability to evoke the body, especially when that body is judged ‘ugly’ or broken, and his ability to make it all new again, gives me so much pleasure.
First published in The Paris Review, Fall 1992 and available online to subscribers here. Collected in Jesus’ Son, FSG, 1992/Granta Books, 2012