“The Higher Abdication” by O. Henry

 

Curly the tramp sidled toward the free-lunch counter. He caught a fleeting glance from the bartender's eye, and stood still, trying to look like a business man who had just dined at the Menger and was waiting for a friend who had promised to pick him up in his motor car. Curly's histrionic powers were equal to the impersonation; but his make-up was wanting. The bartender rounded the bar in a casual way, looking up at the ceiling as though he was pondering some intricate problem of kalsomining, and then fell upon Curly so suddenly that the roadster had no excuses ready. Irresistibly, but so composedly that it seemed almost absendmindedness on his part, the dispenser of drinks pushed Curly to the swinging doors and kicked him out, with a nonchalance that almost amounted to sadness. That was the way of the Southwest.

Another in the 100 Best Roster. The offered paragraph reveals a light raconteuring tone but…not offered are the stretches of dialogue rendered in dialect.

I must admit, dialect passages seldom work for me—rather than draw me in, I am pushed away.

I am puzzled by this stab at rendering language “authentic.”

We accept novels and poetry in translation that we may better appreciate the inherent charms, where dialect in the native language seems to provide a chore or hurdle that the reader must overcome to get at what the author intends.

The dialect hurdle and a pat coincidence ending make this one a puzzle for 100 Best inclusion, to this reader.

If you have no such dialect prejudice, you may find charms that elude me.

Good on you!