The Manuscript
Mash-ups & Live Pairings
- The Manuscript / Red (Eras Tour, Liverpool)
- Long Live / New Year's Day / The Manuscript (Eras Tour, Vancouver)
“But the story isn't mine anymore”
The story explicitly ceded. At the close of the song the speaker names what she has lost beyond the relationship itself: the narrative, which has passed from her authorship into territory she no longer governs. The shift from writing the manuscript to being written out of it is the poem's central movement, and this line is where that movement completes. The story becoming someone else's property is the form the ending takes.
“But the story isn't mine anymore”
The manuscript as the physical document that a speaker has drafted, held, and lost. Taking the song's governing image at its most literal, the relationship has been written into a text that now exists beyond her control. The page-based register sits in the word "manuscript" that names the song itself: not merely a story that can be told but a physical document, a written object, that has passed from one set of hands to another.
“Dart boards on the backs of their doors”
The door named through what hangs on it. Dartboards on the backs of bedroom doors place the speaker among boys her own age, the threshold furnishing the ordinary teenage scene the song looks back on.
“And the slow dance was alight with the sparks”
The slow dance recalled with its lighting (alight with the sparks) as the song's figure for the relationship's early-stage intensity, now framed in the present tense as material for the manuscript. The slowness marks the speed of remembering; the sparks load the line with the heat the speaker is writing about rather than experiencing.
“Afterwards she only ate kids' cereal and couldn't sleep unless it was in her mother's bed”
Kids' cereal as regressive consumption. The line locates the speaker in the period after the relationship by the food she has reverted to, the diet of childhood, and pairs it with the return to the maternal bed, the two regressions reinforcing each other. The food reads as grief pulling the speaker back toward childhood: what the body wants when it can no longer manage adult sustenance.
“The professor said to write what you know”
Advice given to a young writer, quoted inside the writing it produced. The song follows a manuscript from composition through to the moment it belongs to other people, closing with the story no longer being hers. Putting the professor's instruction at the start makes the whole track a demonstration of having followed it, and the closing line the cost of having done so.
Ownership of a story is what the song loses by its final line, and the device makes the song the object being given away. Following the advice is what costs her the material.
the-age-of-him
“In the age of him, she wished she was thirty And made coffee every morning in a French press Afterwards she only ate kids' cereal And couldn't sleep unless it was in her mother's bed”
“The girl in the dress cried the whole way home” — Dear John
Community readers pair the girl in the dress with a later account of the same span of a life, which sets out the two directions at once: while it was happening she performed an adulthood she had not reached, and once it ended she went back further than she had started, to children's cereal and her mother's bed. The earlier song holds the girl and the woman in one figure and does not say which way she moved. The later one says both, in order.
the manuscript
“Now and then I reread the manuscript, but the story isn't mine anymore”
Uncle Jerry reads the crumpled-up piece of paper in All Too Well as an early draft of the image The Manuscript returns to years later, the speaker rereading a story that, as its closing line has it, isn't hers anymore.
manuscript / masterpiece
“Now and then I reread the manuscript”
“the crumpled up piece of paper” — All Too Well (10 Minute Version) (TV)
Angela reads the torn, crumpled remembrances of the ten-minute version as looking ahead to The Manuscript, the closing track that frames the whole affair as a text she finally hands over.
death of the author
“the story isn't mine anymore”
Angela connects The Black Dog to The Manuscript's closing the story isn't mine anymore, hearing in TTPD's final song the Barthesian idea that a work, once finished, slips its author's grip.