I technically have like 2 stories left to read. However, as I was reading on the subway, I realized that after getting through about 60 - 70% of the stories, it was really hitting me hard.

"Cathedral" was the story that made me buy this book. I read it in high school and for some reason, it just stayed in my mind. But Carver has such a sad and beautiful sense of humanity, love, loss, and family that permeates throughout his work.

I especially love the way you can trace his own life as the stories are presented chronologically. It's really quite fascinating.

Anyways, right now I'm tipsy and watching football at O’Keefe’s in Brooklyn. Life is sweet indeed. Despite the emotional impact of the stories, I'm still able to enjoy this moment and find happiness in the simple things.

It's moments like these that make me appreciate the power of literature and the beauty of life.

I'm looking forward to seeing how the remaining stories will affect me and what other insights I'll gain from Carver's writing.

Overall, this has been a great reading experience so far.

Someone presented this to me over a decade ago, yet I simply couldn't develop an interest in it back then. However, as time passes, there comes the right age and the opportune moment. It becomes evident that there is a profound reason why Carver is regarded as one of the greats in the literary world.

His works possess a unique charm and depth that may not be immediately apparent to everyone. It often takes a certain level of life experience and a more mature perspective to truly appreciate the beauty and significance within his stories. As I have grown and evolved, I have begun to understand the genius behind Carver's writing.

His ability to capture the essence of human relationships, the subtleties of emotions, and the ordinary yet extraordinary moments of life is truly remarkable. Each word seems to be carefully chosen, and every sentence weaves a vivid tapestry that draws the reader in and makes them feel as if they are a part of the story. It is no wonder that his works have stood the test of time and continue to be widely read and studied.

4.5

I truly enjoyed the majority of the stories. There were two in particular that left a profound impact on me. "Elephant" had the best ending, which was both unexpected and satisfying. It brought a sense of closure that made the entire story even more memorable. On the other hand, "A Small Good Thing" was an all-around great piece. It was a real tearjerker that tugged at my heartstrings. The emotions it evoked were so powerful that I couldn't help but be moved. I highly recommend reading both of these stories.

This review would have been much better if only I hadn't lost my notes. I had jotted down all my thoughts and feelings while reading, but unfortunately, they seem to have disappeared. Nevertheless, I still wanted to share my appreciation for these wonderful stories with others. Even without my detailed notes, I can still vividly remember the impact these stories had on me. I hope that others will have the opportunity to read them and experience the same joy and感动 that I did.

An exhausting collection of troubling tales.

The saddest story isn't in this 526-page roundup. Instead, it's the story surrounding this roundup. It's clear that Carver, near the end of his life, was just beginning to do his best work. He'd finally rid himself of much of that boozy machismo and was starting to truly delve deep in his writing.

At the time of publication and at the time of his death, Carver had only just turned 50. No doubt, he would have continued to grow as a writer. For instance, consider Alice Munro, a Canadian like Carver and in a dress (the Kids in the Hall version of Raymond Carver). At 50, she still had nine short story collections to go until her retirement, with her masterpiece Hateship, Frienship, Courtship, Loveship, Marriage (a distorted, yet pleasing, echo of WWTAWWTAL right there in the title) still 20 years in the future. Just imagine what Carver could have achieved with another 20 years or another nine volumes.

Anyway, the new stories - except for the uncomfortably autobiographical "Intimacy" (which seems like a clearing of the mind, a dry run, a raking of the leaves towards the much better "Menudo") - exude artistry, clear-eyed and confident. Even though What We Talk About When We Talk About Love gets all the lip service, Cathedral and Elephant (the title under which the new stories were published standalone in the United Kingdom) deserve as much, if not more, scholarship (pseudo or otherwise) and fan appreciation. They deserve a wider readership.

The selected stories - especially those from Will You Please Be Quiet, Please? - are weak in comparison. This is probably due in part to editor Gordon Lish's calcium-leeching red pen, the whittling and brittling of the bone.

However, to forgive Lish, Carver was going through that long beginner's phase of writing away the demons ("Bicycles, Muscles, Cigarettes", "What's In Alaska?", "Neighbors", "Are These Actual Miles?") so that his angels could shine ("Where I'm Calling From", "A Small, Good Thing", "Feathers", "Cathedral").

And one early story, well, it was just an outright curious clunker. "Why, Honey?" It's the story of a mother who worries that her son is the Antichrist. It almost reads like a poor man's Stephen King pastiche or a thankfully abandoned first chapter to an unrealized Dead Zone-esque thriller.

Where I'm Calling From is a great way to trace the evolution of a writer but a terrible way to just sit back and enjoy him. It's like having 400 pages of foam to drink 100 pages of Pabst.

A band that I adored during my high school days - Peter Parker, of course - had a song titled "Where I'm Calling From," which was inspired by the title of this book. As a result, I was compelled to pick it up.

I began reading it immediately, and although I felt that some of its brilliance was beyond my young mind's comprehension, there was still a great deal that I could appreciate, despite my naivete. "What We Talk About When We Talk About Love" is one of my absolute favorites. I even attempted to write my own short story in tribute to it (but failed miserably). However, I think "Cathedral" might be the supreme one. Then again, everything in this collection is amazing, and there is so much in here that I need to re-read and reinterpret. The two stories mentioned above are just the ones I've read most recently (because I loved them so much even then).

I can't quite put my finger on what it is about Carver that makes him so magnificent. Perhaps it's how skillfully he can escalate a situation. Many of the stories center around a single incident or time frame, so in terms of plot, they aren't overly complex. But when it comes to the characters, there are numerous layers as you observe people's lives unravel around one event. It all feels extremely true to life.

In that Headley book I read a couple of months ago, she made a joke about how a man carrying a Carver book isn't a good sign, and she's probably right. By and large, the stories revolve around men, while the women are generally secondary characters. It's not that the women are perfect, but their flaws aren't as often put center stage as those of the men. The core of each story tends to be about some messed-up aspect of the man's character - alcoholism, insensitivity, ignorance, stubbornness, jealousy, and so on. Nevertheless, it provides good insight, and women can still relate.

Miles Davis once said, when asked why he played such minimalist, modal melodies when his contemporaries were going for the more fevered, manic sound of be-bop, "I try to only play the notes that matter."

That's Raymond Carver. His writing is sparse, deceptively simple, yet capable of tearing your soul out by hitting the right notes, consistently, and with purity.

Some of these stories didn't even strike me as I read them. I'd put the book down, walk away, and hours later, not be able to shake the images. It's as if they linger in the recesses of my mind, waiting to resurface and haunt me. Other times, I'd read a line, and feel ashamed for my abuse of adjectives and hyperbole as a writer, right then and there. Carver has this remarkable ability to cut through all the unnecessary clutter and deliver the literary version of "Kind of Blue" in the process. His words are like the spare but powerful notes of a Miles Davis solo, each one carefully chosen and placed to create a profound and lasting impact.

Carver's stories are not about grand gestures or over-the-top emotions. They are about the ordinary, the everyday, the small moments that make up our lives. But in his hands, these ordinary moments become extraordinary, filled with a depth and meaning that we might otherwise overlook. He shows us that there is beauty and tragedy in the simplest of things, and that sometimes, the most powerful stories are the ones that are told with the fewest words.

Raymond Carver is a master of the short story, and his work is a testament to the power of simplicity. He teaches us that we don't need to use a lot of fancy words or complex plotlines to tell a great story. All we need is the ability to see the world around us with clarity and honesty, and to find the right words to express what we see.

Carver is truly captivating when considered as a stylist. His unique writing style has the power to draw readers in and keep them engaged.

However, it's also important to note that he has a remarkable ability to depict dull and empty lives with great authenticity. Through his words, he brings to life the ordinary and the mundane, showing the hidden emotions and struggles that often lie beneath the surface.

His characters are not extraordinary or glamorous; instead, they are everyday people facing the challenges and disappointments that come with life. By exploring these themes, Carver offers a profound and thought-provoking look at the human condition.

Whether it's through his use of简洁的 language or his敏锐的观察力, Carver manages to create a world that is both familiar and yet somehow strange. His work forces us to confront our own lives and the choices we make, making him a writer who is well worth reading and studying.

Incredibly, this book had been lying dormant in my library for 25 years. It was among the many libraries that had multiplied in the various houses I had lived in. It is a precious collection, carefully selected by Carver shortly before he left this planet. The stories are extraordinary, snapshots of unremarkable lives, almost all of them dealing with multiple marriages that are invariably disappointing. Love has evaporated from these lives, boiled away by work and alcohol. But the trace it has left is raw literature, dependencies, depressions, drugs, whisky, vodka, stale wine, and also a gem on the last moments of Anton Čechov's life. As Rushdie says, quoted on the back cover: Read it, read anything by Carver.

It is masterful. This collection of stories offers a profound and often poignant look into the human condition. Carver's writing is deceptively simple, yet it manages to convey complex emotions and ideas with great clarity. The characters in these stories are flawed and real, and their struggles and failures are both relatable and heartbreaking. Whether it's the failed marriages, the addictions, or the moments of quiet desperation, Carver's stories have the power to touch the reader's soul. This book is a must-read for anyone who loves literature and wants to explore the darker side of the human experience.

I first read Raymond Carver in 1993, and the few pieces I read left a lasting impression on me. I never forgot his name, and in 2005, I purchased this book, which is a collection of his best work. It has been sitting on the top of my TBR pile ever since.

It is nearly impossible to overlook the slow and delicate changes in Carver's writing style as he presents this collection to us. The first 15 stories are typically no more than fifteen pages long, with sparse details and not always a clear indication of what the author is attempting to convey. Among the best of this initial group are "Neighbors" and "Bicycles, Muscles, Cigarettes". If the book had ended here, my review might not have been as favorable.

In the "second part", the Carver I had studied emerged. His finest pieces, mainly written in the late seventies/early eighties, are richer in real characters who, for better or worse, must confront their own inner demons. I found myself smiling, clenching my teeth, and even laughing out loud while reading stories like "What We Talk About When we Talk About Love", "So Much Water So Close to Home", "The Third Thing That Killed My Father Off", and "Cathedral". Each piece delivered an honest, if sometimes sobering, message about life as Carver perceived it.

The third part, clearly distinguishable as they had not been published before his death in 1988, reverted to the shorter style Carver had used previously. However, unfortunately, they seemed to drag on. Also, by that time, the recurring themes of abuse, divorce, and alcoholism began to make me feel like the last relatively happy person in the world. The ideas Carver had so brilliantly established in Part 2 were now losing their impact.

In conclusion, after reading these stories and realizing how crappy life can be, you may need to see a shrink, but nonetheless, you'll enjoy the journey to the couch. It's an abstract, somewhat what you might expect from Raymond Carver.

This is the literature of emptiness.

The loneliness that pervades the sprawling city of L.A.

It's that kind of world where the person you love is someone you have never met and know you will never meet, even when you are seemingly surrounded by 'friends' who are not truly there for you.

It's a world of loners and misfits.

The writing is excellent and sparse, painting a vivid picture of this desolate existence.

There is a very good reason why his stories have been adapted into great movies.

They capture the essence of this emptiness and loneliness, touching the hearts of audiences and making them reflect on their own lives and the nature of human connection.

The power of his literature lies in its ability to make us feel the pain and longing of those who are lost in a world that often seems cold and unforgiving.

It is a reminder that even in the midst of a crowd, we can still feel alone and that true connection is something precious and rare.

His stories are a testament to the human spirit's ability to endure and find meaning in the face of adversity.

I had a desire for the very first book I read in 2018 to hold a special significance. And this classic compilation of stories by Raymond Carver, which was the last book he published during his lifetime (he passed away in 1988 at the astonishingly young age of 50), truly met that criterion.

Here, presented in chronological order, are 37 stories that represent more than two decades of his work. Some of these stories are among the most powerful and influential works of short fiction published in the late 20th century.

Most of them are written in a clear and unpretentious voice that is filled with wisdom and a hearty good humour, yet also a particular kind of pathos that Carver captured and knew so well.

His characters are ordinary people, often from the Pacific Northwest, struggling to get by and facing a significant complication during the course of the story. For example, in “A Small, Good Thing,” a couple’s child is in a coma after being hit by a car on his birthday. In “Bicycles, Muscles, Cigarettes,” a man draws on his own history of violence to defend his son accused of stealing a bicycle. And in “Boxes,” another man worries about his restless and constantly dissatisfied elderly mother.

Most of these stories revolve around marriages breaking up, either slowly or suddenly. The marriage might have already ended, and a man (it’s usually a man) can’t cope with it. In “A Serious Talk,” he drops by his ex-wife’s home after trashing it in a jealous rage during the Christmas holidays. In “Fever,” he’s tasked with finding a babysitter/housekeeper for his two children. And in “Careful,” he’s obsessed with a blockage in his ear while living alone and constantly drinking champagne.

Several stories feature male protagonists who are out of work while their wives take on jobs, such as in “They’re Not Your Husband,” “Put Yourself In My Shoes,” “Are These Actual Miles?,” and “Vitamins.”

And, of course, there are drinkers. Lots of drinkers. Many conversations occur in a boozy haze of distraction and false cheer.

One of the saddest stories I’ve ever read is “Gazebo,” which is about a couple who have holed themselves up in a room at the motel where they work while they drink and hash out their marital problems, ignoring the customers at reception.

It contains the following paragraph about the couple’s relationship to alcohol: Drinking’s funny. When I look back on it, all of our important decisions have been figured out when we were drinking. Even when we talked about having to cut back on our drinking, we’d be sitting at the kitchen table or out at the picnic table with a six-pack or whiskey. And this one line in the story simply yet profoundly captures their end-of-the-line desperation: \\"There was this funny thing of anything could happen now that we realized everything had.” Wow.

Reading these stories in a short period of time made me sensitive to some of Carver’s techniques.

* The faux epiphany: In my review of Carver’s Cathedral, I already pointed out his sometimes contrived use of the narrator simply stumbling upon an epiphany. I noticed it here too. For instance, in “Boxes,” “I don’t know why, but it’s then I recall the affectionate name my dad used sometimes when he was talking to my mother.” And in “Blackbird Pie,” “I’d like to say it was at this moment, as I stood in the fog watching her drive off, that I remembered a black-and-white photograph of my wife holding her wedding bouquet.” These passages are like the author nudging us to think: \\"Oh, here's the significance.\\"

* The story within the story. Carver is excellent at having characters tell tales within tales. And sometimes, as in “Whoever Was Using This Bed” and “The Student’s Wife,” the story will become a monologue. (Incidentally, both of these stories feature insomniacs.) As someone who watches a lot of plays, I’m sad Carver didn’t write for the theatre. His dialogue is so good. (Yes, I know the films Birdman and Short Cuts draw on his work.)

* The humour. I didn’t appreciate just how funny Carver could be until I read “What Do You Do In San Francisco?,” a story narrated by a postman who tells us about a “beatnik” couple who move into the neighbourhood on his route. The man’s nosiness and judgements on the young couple (perhaps modelled after the young Carver and his then wife/girlfriend?) are so amusing I literally laughed out loud while reading them.

* He shows, doesn't tell. Carver can describe a gesture that, in a few words, precisely captures what a person’s thinking. He doesn’t have to tell you someone’s depressed or sad. By showing you what they’re doing, you know that.

***
Sigh. Writing all this makes me a little dissatisfied. Picking apart Carver’s stories like this takes away a bit of their magic. There’s a mystery at the heart of stories like “Fat,” “Cathedral,” “A Small, Good Thing,” “Fever,” “Why Don’t You Dance?” and “Are These Actual Miles?” that should stay mysteries. They suggest profound things about the human condition: our frailties, our contradictions, our attempts at redemption.

Much has been written about Carver's final published story, “Errand,” a loose retelling of the death of Russian playwright and short story master Chekhov.

The setting, of course, is far removed from Carver’s other fiction, and I’m sure it was inspired by the author’s feelings about his own impending death. But what you realize is that it’s not the grand event itself that captures Carver’s interest but the little things happening on the sidelines, the small moments that only an artist like this – surely Chekhov's equal in his insight into human behaviour – could capture, honour and make real and memorable.

The typical profile of an American adult reader of literature is often that of a college-educated professional enjoying a good salary in a desirable environment like the publishing industry, a law office, a consulting firm, or a college or university.

But what about the other side of America? The side populated by men and women who seem worlds away from ever reading literary works. People living in the rough and ready land of work boots, crappy jobs, hard liquor, chain smoking, trailer camps, foul language, and breakdowns of beat-up cars.

Well, welcome to Carver country. In this collection by Raymond Carver, there are 37 stories. To give a taste of what a reader unfamiliar with the author might expect, here is a short write-up on four stories, each a classic Raymond Carver piece.

"They're Not Your Husband" tells the story of Earl, a salesman "between jobs." He goes to the diner where his wife Doreen works the night shift as a waitress. Overhearing two men make unflattering remarks about Doreen's large posterior, Earl asks her to go on a diet. Doreen initially has some success but then something unexpected happens when Earl returns to the diner.

"Fat" features a morbidly obese man sitting alone at a restaurant table for his evening meal. The narrator, a waitress, is touched by his humanity. As she serves him more, her compassion and understanding grow. We feel a kinship with the narrator as she describes the fat man's details and her own transformation after this encounter.

"Neighbors" shows the lives of Bill and Arlene, who feel isolated compared to their neighbors Jim and Harriet. When Jim and Harriet go away on a trip and leave their key with Bill and Arlene, envy and jealousy take over, leading to a series of privacy invasions and an unexpected twist at the end.

"Vitamins" follows the narrator who waxes floors at a local hospital and lives with Patti, who sells vitamins door-to-door. Patti initially has success but then the job takes over her life. The story shows a world where the quest for love is often unhappy and people turn to their favorite music and hard drinking, hoping to escape their lives. Raymond Carver captures the humanity and despair of these characters in vivid detail.