Returning to Carver's works over a decade after first being introduced to them was an extremely fulfilling experience. The sparse prose in this collection served as a reminder of what initially drew me to his stories. The concept that a story doesn't have to be fantastical or even overly exciting to be great is a powerful one. Carver's stories may not possess those qualities, but they are undeniably moving. He has a unique ability to pack a punch, whether it's through the use of a hanging ellipsis at the end of a story or a dramatic full stop.
This collection is a wonderful blend for the returning fan. It features a mix of stories from well-known collections such as Cathedral or What We Talk About When We Talk About Love, as well as a few new ones. Each story seems to complement the others, with lonely men or women often at their wits' end, whether they are aware of it or not. It could be the static isolation, like that of the man in Collectors who peers through his curtains waiting for the mailman, or Lloyd in Careful who has moved out of his house with his wife and has relapsed into a pattern of drinking champagne and wearing pajamas all day. Or it could be the restless pursuit of something better, as seen in the couple in Vitamins or the wife who left Carlyle in Fever.
Amid these everyday stories, there are people on the verge of something significant happening. In Cathedral, the narrator experiences empathy and connection for the first time in a long while after reluctantly spending the evening with a blind man. He remarks, "It was like nothing else in my life up to now." In They’re Not Your Husband, a man seeks control and wishes to view life through someone else's eyes. The same goes for Neighbors, where a couple starts cat sitting for a neighbor across the hall and eventually becomes reliant on that fantasy, with one of them saying, "Well, I wish it was us."
Failed relationships, whether beyond repair or teetering on the brink, also play a prominent role in Carver's stories. For example, in one story, a man sends his wife out to sell his car and she secures a deal through sexual favors. In Why Don’t You Dance?, there is an empty house and a cluttered yard of a man selling all his personal belongings. One of my favorite stories, Gazebo, showcases the fallout of broken trust and the irreparable situation that follows. The protagonist says, "I drink my drink and think it’s not ever going to be the same." This story captures the crisis of purpose and past that Carver presents his characters with, and the real tragedy lies in the self-realization that comes too late, as the character reflects, "There was this funny thing of anything could happen now that we realized everything had… I thought we’d be like that too when we got old enough. Dignified. And in a place. And people would come to our door."
At the heart of many of these stories is the glimmer of hope for redemption, even if it's just through a change in perspective or making peace with the past. In Where I’m Calling From, men struggle desperately to overcome their alcoholism, recounting the mistakes of their past. One of them says, "That’s when we were still together, trying to make things work out… Part of me wanted help. But there was another part." In Chef’s House, a couple driven apart by alcohol attempts one last time to make their relationship work, only to realize it's too late. One of them ponders, "Suppose, just suppose, nothing had ever happened. Suppose this was the first time. Just suppose. It doesn’t hurt to suppose."
Of course, these changes, realizations, or character arcs are not always subtle. Some of these characters reach their breaking point. In Menudo, a man cheats on his wife with a neighbor, wreaking havoc on his life and theirs. He eventually finds himself raking his yard and others' as desperation takes hold, before finally facing what he has been dreading. In Elephant, perhaps Carver's most scathing critique of capitalism, a man is stretched to the limit by his entire family. He sends out checks to keep those around him afloat while being forced to make sacrifices for his own comforts.
Carver's simple prose and themes offer a new and profound meaning to realism. His stark portrayal of the lifestyles of his characters and the forks in the road they encounter is not just limited to blue-collar workers on the periphery of a continent. Through the unwavering humanity he赋予 each of these characters, he makes these stories relatable to anyone who has faced a difficult decision in their life, especially when it's a consequence of their own actions.