They went to the Fisherman s Wharf. Dorothy had never seen the ocean before; nor had Uncle Henry or Aunt Em. The man who sold them hanks of fried

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2 They went to the Fisherman s Wharf. Dorothy had never seen the ocean before; nor had Uncle Henry or Aunt Em. The man who sold them hanks of fried fish wrapped in twists of newspaper remarked that this wasn t the ocean, just the bay. To see the ocean they d need to go farther west, to the Presidio, or to Golden Gate Park. For its prettier name, they headed to Golden Gate Park. A policeman 4

3 Prologue told them that when the long swell of greenery was being laid out, the city hadn t yet expanded west past Divisadero Street, and anything beyond had been known by squatters and locals as the Outside Lands. Oh? said Dorothy, with brightening interest. That s where you ll find the ocean. They made their way to the edge of the continent first by carriage and then on foot, but the world s edge proved disappointingly muffled in fog. The ocean was a sham. They could see no farther out into the supposed Pacific Ocean than they d been able to look across the San Francisco Bay. And it was colder, a stiff wind tossing up briny air. The gulls keened, biblical prophets practicing jeremiad, knowing more than they would let on. Aunt Em caught a sniffle, so they couldn t stay and wait to see if the fog would lift. The clammy saltiness disagreed with her and she with it, she did declare. That night, as Aunt Em was repairing to her bed, Uncle Henry wheedled from his wife a permission to take Dorothy out on the town. He hired a trap to bring Dorothy into a district called Chinatown. Dorothy wanted so badly to tell Uncle Henry that this is what it felt like to be in Oz this otherness, this weird but convincing reality that she bit a bruise in the side of her mouth, trying not to speak. Toto looked wary, as if the residents on doorsills were sizing him up to see how many Chinese relatives he might feed. After a number of false starts, Uncle Henry located a restaurant where other God-fearing white people seemed comfortable entering, and a few were even safely leaving, which was a good sign. So they went inside. A staid woman at a counter nodded at them. Her unmoving features looked carved in beef aspic. When she slipped off her stool to show Henry to a table, Dorothy saw that she was tiny. Tiny and stout and wrapped round with shiny red silk. She only came up to Dorothy s lowest rib. To prevent her from saying A Munchkin! Uncle Henry said to Dorothy, with his eyes, No. They ate a spicy, peculiar meal, very wet, full of moist grit. They wouldn t know how to describe any of it to Aunt Em when they went back, and they were glad she wasn t there. She would have swooned with the mystery of it. They liked it, though Uncle Henry chewed with the front of his lips clenched and the sides puckered open for air in case he changed his mind midbite. 5

4 out of oz Where are these people from? Why are they here? asked Dorothy in a whisper, pushing a chopstick into her basket so Toto could have something to gnaw. They re furriners from China, which is across the world, said Uncle Henry. They came to build the railroad that we traveled on, and they stayed to open laundries and restaurants. Why didn t they ever come to Kansas? They must be too smart. They both laughed at this, turning red. Dorothy could see that Uncle Henry loved her. It wasn t his fault she seemed out of her mind. Uncle Henry, said Dorothy before they had finished the grassy tea, I know you ve nearly poorhoused yourself to bring me here. I know why you and Aunt Em have done it. You want to show me the world and distract me with reality. It s a good strategy and a mighty sound ambition. I shall try to repay you for your kindness to me by keeping my mouth shut about Oz. Your sainted Aunt Em chooses to keep mum about it, Dorothy, but she knows you ve had an experience few can match. However you managed to survive from the time the twister snatched our house away until the time you returned from the wilderness whatever you scrabbled to find and eat that might have caused this weakness in your head you nonetheless did manage. No one back home expected we d ever find your corpse, let alone meet up again with your cheery optimistic self. You re some pioneer, Dorothy. Every minute of your life is its own real miracle. Don t deny it by fastening upon the temptation of some tomfoolery. She chose her words carefully. It s just that it s all so clear in my mind. A mind is something a young lady from Kansas learns to keep private. As they began to pile up their plates, the Munchkin Chinee that is, the little bowing woman in her silks and satins scurried to interrupt them, and she brought them each a pastry like a crumpled seedpod. When Uncle Henry and Dorothy looked dubious, she showed them how to crack one open. The fragments tasted like Aunt Em s biscuits, dry and without savor. Inside, how droll: a scrap of paper in each one. Marks in a funny squarish language on one side, letters in English on the other. By the red light of the Chinese lantern leering over their table, Uncle Henry worked to decipher his secret message. His book learning had been 6

5 Prologue scant. Mid pleasure and palaces though we may roam, Be it ever so humble, there s no place like home, he read. John Howard Payne. Pain is right, said Dorothy. Meaning no disrespect, Uncle Henry. He has a point, though, Dorothy. Be it ever so humble, and we have the humble part covered good enough, there s no place like home. Now you read yours. My mind to me a kingdom is, Such present joys therein I find, That it excels all other bliss That Earth affords or grows by kind. Sir Edward Dyer. Dire is right, said Uncle Henry. The hobbled, squinch-eyed woman in red saw them through the beaded curtains toward the street, but at the lacquered door she grabbed Dorothy s sleeve. For you, she said and handed Dorothy a tiny bamboo cage. Inside was a cricket. For ruck. Cricket for ruck. Why do I need luck? Dorothy thought she d spoken to herself but the woman answered as if she d spoken aloud. (Maybe she had. Maybe she was dotty, a dodo, like the children had called her. Dotty Dorothy. Dorothy Dodo.) You on journey going, said the old woman, though whether this was an observation, a prophecy, or a swift good-bye, Dorothy couldn t tell. Distastefully Dorothy fingered the little cage. The locusts of Kansas had made her dubious about crickets. Still, the little twiglet was alive, for it bounced against its straw-colored bars. It didn t sing. I don t believe animals should be in cages, she said to Uncle Henry. People neither, he answered, almost by rote. His one-note message. Don t cage yourself in your fantasticals, girl. Before it s too late, get your mind out of Oz, or you ll be sorry. I take your point, Uncle Henry. I ve taken it for some time now. You re welcome. He put his hand on his rib and breathed through the pain for a moment.