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The Butterfly Lampshade

A Novel

Author Aimee Bender
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Paperback
$16.95 US
Knopf | Anchor
On sale Jun 08, 2021 | 304 Pages | 978-0-307-74418-0
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The Butterfly Lampshade is a luminous, poignant tale of a mother, a daughter, mental illness, and the fluctuating barrier between the mind and the world.

On the night her single mother is taken to a mental hospital after a psychotic episode, eight year-old Francie is staying with her babysitter, waiting to take the train to Los Angeles to go live with her aunt and uncle. There is a lovely lamp next to the couch on which she’s sleeping, the shade adorned with butterflies. When she wakes, Francie spies a dead butterfly, exactly matching the ones on the lamp, floating in a glass of water. She drinks it before the babysitter can see.

Twenty years later, Francie is compelled to make sense of that moment, and two other incidents—her discovery of a desiccated beetle from a school paper, and a bouquet of dried roses from some curtains. Her recall is exact—she is sure these things happened. But despite her certainty, she wrestles with the hold these memories maintain over her, and what they say about her relationship to reality.
 
“Aimee Bender’s Latest Is a Proustian Reverie. A surrealist memory box of a novel. . . . Its particular quality of stillness hums with so much mystery and intensity that the book never feels static. It is a measure of the book’s success that as I reached the conclusion, I felt considerably more altered by the experience than I often am by novels that travel much further from their beginnings. . . . The novel [is] a kind of small-scale, supernatural Proustian reverie: Proust if what Proust had been trying to recover was not luminous, ordinary reality, but a rupture in luminous ordinary reality. . . . One finishes the novel with the eerie sense that we too are objects who have slipped accidentally into being and that, like the butterfly, the beetle and the dried rose, we really ought not to be here.” —Kevin Brockmeier, The New York Times Book Review (Editor’s Choice)
 
“[An] astounding meditation on time, space, mental illness, and family. . . . Rich in language and the magic of human consciousness, Bender’s masterpiece is one to savor.” —Publishers Weekly (starred review)
 
“[A] dazzling rumination on time and mental illness. . . . Bender has a gift for rooting wonderfully inventive fables in a very recognizable, walkable world [and the] middle-class Los Angeles of backyards and hatchbacks, bus stops and craft shops, is overlaid with mythic events—modest miracles, observed by few, that expose a world of mystery. . . . [Francie’s] receptiveness to the marvels eddying around brightens every detail in a small, deeply felt life.” —Anne Stringfield, Oprah Magazine
Chapter 1

We cannot tend to her. There is something wrong with her.
What do you mean? What is wrong with her?
We do not know. Something.
She seems like such a normal little girl to me. Last visit—
It is hidden.
Did she do anything? Did she do something bad?
No. Then what? We cannot handle her. I cannot.
But what do you mean by that? Is she misbehaving?
No.
Is she getting in trouble in school?
You have to come get her.
I don’t understand.
You are the godparents. You have to come. That is your job.
But you are alive, Elaine.
I am telling you I can’t do it.
Where’s that new guy you were telling me about?
Camping.
Is he coming back?
I don’t know.
Are you going to do something, Elaine?
I could call social services. Maybe I will. Are they listed? Will they do foster care if other family is still available?
Can you put her on the phone?
No.
Is she nearby?
She’s right here. She’s looking right at me.
Can you tell her to come on the phone?
Francie. Francie, dear, your aunt Minnie wants to speak to you.
Hello? Francie?
Hello.
Francie? Are you okay?
Yes.
You’ve been listening to our conversation?
Yes. Your mother is very worried about you. Do you think you might be doing anything wrong?
No.
Have you been going to school?
Yes.
Are you behaving properly in school?
Yes.
Are you going to bed on time?
Yes.
I have to tell you, I’m more worried about your mother. Do you think she might be getting sick again?
Yes.
Can you tell me what she’s doing?
No.
You can tell me. I know she’s probably listening, but it’s okay. Really. She knew I would ask you. Is she hurting you in any way, any way at all?
No.
Is she—dressed?
Yes.
Okay. That’s good.
Are you feeling okay?
Yes.
Do you need me to come up there?
Yes.
Yes?
Yes.
Can you tell me what you mean by yes? As in why?
No.
Is your mom’s friend there?
No. He’s out of town?
I don’t know.
Is anyone else there?
No.
Is your mother hurting herself?
No.
Sweetie, I’m so sorry, I just can’t come this time, not right now. I’m too pregnant. I’m not allowed to go on a plane. Your uncle can, though. You want your uncle to come?
No.
Oh, Francie. Who is the best grown-up for you to call?
It’s me again, Minn. She dropped the phone. She’s standing by the wall now. She puts her nose right up against the wall. It’s touching the wall.
What is happening over there?
Like she is talking to the wall. She has this look, Minn.
Kids have looks.
No, no. Other kids don’t have this look.
Elaine, she can hear the whole conversation for God’s sake!
Like she is judging me. All the time.
Kids don’t judge, not like that.
She does.
You’re still on the Abilify?
I cannot be around her. There’s something in her. There is a bug in her. I cannot even trust myself around her! Are you listening to me?
Yes. I’m sending Stan up. The minute he gets home. Morning flight.
Not Stan! You!
I can’t fly. What do you mean, a bug?
A bug in her. Something crawling inside her.
Can she stay somewhere else? Where can she stay?
I don’t know.
A friend?
I don’t like her friends.
A friend of yours?
She loves her babysitter.
Ask the babysitter. Of course. Tomorrow. Or, I’ll call her too. We can both call her. Okay? This is the one who also works at the school?
Shrina.
I have her number. We’ll work something out, honey. You have to call your doctor. We’ll both call the doctor.
I know I should. I know I do.
And I will too. So that’s a start. We have a plan then.
We do?
We’ll both make some calls in the morning. Okay? Let’s go over the plan. What are you going to do tomorrow?
I am going to call my doctor.
Good. And?
I am going to call my doctor.
And, if you feel able, ask the babysitter.
Right. And I will ask the babysitter.
What are you going to ask the babysitter?
If she will take my sweet girl, Francie. But what do I mean again? Where will she take her?
You know what, I’ll call Shrina. Don’t worry about that. You take care of yourself. Maybe Francie can stay with her for a couple days while we get you feeling better. Do you know where she lives?
She is very young.
Francie?
The babysitter.
It’s just until Stan can get up there. I’ll tell her he’ll be coming as soon as he can.
How many months are you again?
Eight and a half. So that’s the plan for tomorrow. But what about tonight?
Tonight? Exactly!
Does she have a lock on her door? Her bedroom door?
Yes. She does. She asked for that.
What do you mean? She asked for a lock?
Last year. For her birthday.
You’re kidding me. Did she ask for anything else?
Is that odd?
Just a lock?
Yes.
Unbelievable. But okay. She’s a smart girl. It’s very useful. From the inside?
Yes.
And how about you?
We can both lock our doors from the inside.
Okay. You need to do that then. Why don’t you do that as soon as we get off the phone. Use the bathroom first. Then go to bed. You’ll call me tomorrow morning?
Yes.
You’ll call the doctor?
Yes.
You’ll call me if you need anything, absolutely anything?
Yes.
Tell Francie goodbye. Tell her I love her.
You’re on speaker. She can hear you.
Jesus. Goodbye, Francie. Did you hear that about locking your door?
Yes.
I love you, Francie.
She doesn’t say I love you.
I will say it anyway. She doesn’t have to say it back. I love you, Francie.
Goodbye, Minn. Thank you so much. I love you.
I love you too, Elaine. We’ll figure this out.
Thank you. I love you.
I love you too, Elaine. Go to your room now, honey. Good night.
Copyright © 2021 by Aimee Bender. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
© Mark Miller
Aimee Bender is the author of the novels The Color Master, The Particular Sadness of Lemon Cake—a New York Times bestseller, An Invisible Sign of My Own, and of the collections The Girl in the Flammable Skirt and Willful Creatures. Her works have been widely anthologized and have been translated into 16 languages. She lives in Los Angeles. View titles by Aimee Bender

About

The Butterfly Lampshade is a luminous, poignant tale of a mother, a daughter, mental illness, and the fluctuating barrier between the mind and the world.

On the night her single mother is taken to a mental hospital after a psychotic episode, eight year-old Francie is staying with her babysitter, waiting to take the train to Los Angeles to go live with her aunt and uncle. There is a lovely lamp next to the couch on which she’s sleeping, the shade adorned with butterflies. When she wakes, Francie spies a dead butterfly, exactly matching the ones on the lamp, floating in a glass of water. She drinks it before the babysitter can see.

Twenty years later, Francie is compelled to make sense of that moment, and two other incidents—her discovery of a desiccated beetle from a school paper, and a bouquet of dried roses from some curtains. Her recall is exact—she is sure these things happened. But despite her certainty, she wrestles with the hold these memories maintain over her, and what they say about her relationship to reality.
 
“Aimee Bender’s Latest Is a Proustian Reverie. A surrealist memory box of a novel. . . . Its particular quality of stillness hums with so much mystery and intensity that the book never feels static. It is a measure of the book’s success that as I reached the conclusion, I felt considerably more altered by the experience than I often am by novels that travel much further from their beginnings. . . . The novel [is] a kind of small-scale, supernatural Proustian reverie: Proust if what Proust had been trying to recover was not luminous, ordinary reality, but a rupture in luminous ordinary reality. . . . One finishes the novel with the eerie sense that we too are objects who have slipped accidentally into being and that, like the butterfly, the beetle and the dried rose, we really ought not to be here.” —Kevin Brockmeier, The New York Times Book Review (Editor’s Choice)
 
“[An] astounding meditation on time, space, mental illness, and family. . . . Rich in language and the magic of human consciousness, Bender’s masterpiece is one to savor.” —Publishers Weekly (starred review)
 
“[A] dazzling rumination on time and mental illness. . . . Bender has a gift for rooting wonderfully inventive fables in a very recognizable, walkable world [and the] middle-class Los Angeles of backyards and hatchbacks, bus stops and craft shops, is overlaid with mythic events—modest miracles, observed by few, that expose a world of mystery. . . . [Francie’s] receptiveness to the marvels eddying around brightens every detail in a small, deeply felt life.” —Anne Stringfield, Oprah Magazine

Excerpt

Chapter 1

We cannot tend to her. There is something wrong with her.
What do you mean? What is wrong with her?
We do not know. Something.
She seems like such a normal little girl to me. Last visit—
It is hidden.
Did she do anything? Did she do something bad?
No. Then what? We cannot handle her. I cannot.
But what do you mean by that? Is she misbehaving?
No.
Is she getting in trouble in school?
You have to come get her.
I don’t understand.
You are the godparents. You have to come. That is your job.
But you are alive, Elaine.
I am telling you I can’t do it.
Where’s that new guy you were telling me about?
Camping.
Is he coming back?
I don’t know.
Are you going to do something, Elaine?
I could call social services. Maybe I will. Are they listed? Will they do foster care if other family is still available?
Can you put her on the phone?
No.
Is she nearby?
She’s right here. She’s looking right at me.
Can you tell her to come on the phone?
Francie. Francie, dear, your aunt Minnie wants to speak to you.
Hello? Francie?
Hello.
Francie? Are you okay?
Yes.
You’ve been listening to our conversation?
Yes. Your mother is very worried about you. Do you think you might be doing anything wrong?
No.
Have you been going to school?
Yes.
Are you behaving properly in school?
Yes.
Are you going to bed on time?
Yes.
I have to tell you, I’m more worried about your mother. Do you think she might be getting sick again?
Yes.
Can you tell me what she’s doing?
No.
You can tell me. I know she’s probably listening, but it’s okay. Really. She knew I would ask you. Is she hurting you in any way, any way at all?
No.
Is she—dressed?
Yes.
Okay. That’s good.
Are you feeling okay?
Yes.
Do you need me to come up there?
Yes.
Yes?
Yes.
Can you tell me what you mean by yes? As in why?
No.
Is your mom’s friend there?
No. He’s out of town?
I don’t know.
Is anyone else there?
No.
Is your mother hurting herself?
No.
Sweetie, I’m so sorry, I just can’t come this time, not right now. I’m too pregnant. I’m not allowed to go on a plane. Your uncle can, though. You want your uncle to come?
No.
Oh, Francie. Who is the best grown-up for you to call?
It’s me again, Minn. She dropped the phone. She’s standing by the wall now. She puts her nose right up against the wall. It’s touching the wall.
What is happening over there?
Like she is talking to the wall. She has this look, Minn.
Kids have looks.
No, no. Other kids don’t have this look.
Elaine, she can hear the whole conversation for God’s sake!
Like she is judging me. All the time.
Kids don’t judge, not like that.
She does.
You’re still on the Abilify?
I cannot be around her. There’s something in her. There is a bug in her. I cannot even trust myself around her! Are you listening to me?
Yes. I’m sending Stan up. The minute he gets home. Morning flight.
Not Stan! You!
I can’t fly. What do you mean, a bug?
A bug in her. Something crawling inside her.
Can she stay somewhere else? Where can she stay?
I don’t know.
A friend?
I don’t like her friends.
A friend of yours?
She loves her babysitter.
Ask the babysitter. Of course. Tomorrow. Or, I’ll call her too. We can both call her. Okay? This is the one who also works at the school?
Shrina.
I have her number. We’ll work something out, honey. You have to call your doctor. We’ll both call the doctor.
I know I should. I know I do.
And I will too. So that’s a start. We have a plan then.
We do?
We’ll both make some calls in the morning. Okay? Let’s go over the plan. What are you going to do tomorrow?
I am going to call my doctor.
Good. And?
I am going to call my doctor.
And, if you feel able, ask the babysitter.
Right. And I will ask the babysitter.
What are you going to ask the babysitter?
If she will take my sweet girl, Francie. But what do I mean again? Where will she take her?
You know what, I’ll call Shrina. Don’t worry about that. You take care of yourself. Maybe Francie can stay with her for a couple days while we get you feeling better. Do you know where she lives?
She is very young.
Francie?
The babysitter.
It’s just until Stan can get up there. I’ll tell her he’ll be coming as soon as he can.
How many months are you again?
Eight and a half. So that’s the plan for tomorrow. But what about tonight?
Tonight? Exactly!
Does she have a lock on her door? Her bedroom door?
Yes. She does. She asked for that.
What do you mean? She asked for a lock?
Last year. For her birthday.
You’re kidding me. Did she ask for anything else?
Is that odd?
Just a lock?
Yes.
Unbelievable. But okay. She’s a smart girl. It’s very useful. From the inside?
Yes.
And how about you?
We can both lock our doors from the inside.
Okay. You need to do that then. Why don’t you do that as soon as we get off the phone. Use the bathroom first. Then go to bed. You’ll call me tomorrow morning?
Yes.
You’ll call the doctor?
Yes.
You’ll call me if you need anything, absolutely anything?
Yes.
Tell Francie goodbye. Tell her I love her.
You’re on speaker. She can hear you.
Jesus. Goodbye, Francie. Did you hear that about locking your door?
Yes.
I love you, Francie.
She doesn’t say I love you.
I will say it anyway. She doesn’t have to say it back. I love you, Francie.
Goodbye, Minn. Thank you so much. I love you.
I love you too, Elaine. We’ll figure this out.
Thank you. I love you.
I love you too, Elaine. Go to your room now, honey. Good night.
Copyright © 2021 by Aimee Bender. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.

Author

© Mark Miller
Aimee Bender is the author of the novels The Color Master, The Particular Sadness of Lemon Cake—a New York Times bestseller, An Invisible Sign of My Own, and of the collections The Girl in the Flammable Skirt and Willful Creatures. Her works have been widely anthologized and have been translated into 16 languages. She lives in Los Angeles. View titles by Aimee Bender

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