In keeping with my “study” of the short story, I thought it was high time I delved into Raymond Carver. (Yes, you could call me a late-bloomer.) The only story I had read by him before was Cathedral, which is truly excellent. It's essentially a story about a skeptical and somewhat shallow man who learns from a blind man how to “see” in a deeper sense.

The 37 stories in this 526-page collection are arranged chronologically. The final story, titled Errand, which was unpublished at the time of Carver's untimely passing, starts with the single-word sentence “Chekhov.” Carver is often compared to Chekhov, who also died young.

Carver has frequently been described as a minimalist. I get this description, but I also find it a bit simplistic. True, he uses simple language and short sentences. However, when necessary, he devotes ample time and space to establish the elements he needs to make a character's growth believable. At first glance, Carver's characters are often seen as ordinary people, like any random individual we might pass on the street. But his genius lies in using this initial superficial impression and then making great use of subtext to reveal deep characterization.

Another commonly heard idea about Carver is that he employed trickery and would surprise the reader with a “curve ball” at the end. I would argue that Carver used technique to lull the reader, much like the “sleeper” yo-yo move. He strings the reader along, only to bring closure with a snap. With a quick flick, the meaning of the story is disclosed. In the case of A Small Good Thing, I was moved to tears. And in What’s In Alaska, when I realized the true state of the couple's marriage, I suddenly stopped laughing. Carver had played me as a reader, and I was left in awe of his skill.

It's worth picking up this book even if you don't plan to read every story. (This is the first time I've read an entire collection of short stories without interruption.) But do read, in addition to the ones mentioned above, Elephant, So Much Water, So Close to Home, and the title story, Where I’m Calling From.

These stories stay with you. They are uniquely Carver – no one could possibly imitate him – because I don't even think they can be neatly categorized. And the final seven stories, published after Carver's death, show that he was headed in a new direction. Even at that point, he had already established himself as one of the best short story writers. How far and where he might have gone is anyone's guess.

I've read these stories gradually over the past couple of years, safe in the hands of a master.

They don't run a-z, they start somewhere around g and finish around p.

This is in a totally good way.

It's as if life happens before and after these stories.

We are given a glimpse into a particular segment of that life, and then left to imagine the rest.

It's like opening a door to a room and seeing only a part of what's inside.

The mystery and the unknown add to the allure of these stories.

We can use our own creativity and imagination to fill in the blanks, to think about what might have led up to those moments and what might come after.

It makes the reading experience not just about consuming the words on the page, but also about engaging our minds and hearts in a journey of discovery and speculation.

These stories have the power to transport us to different times and places, and to make us feel a part of something bigger than ourselves.

They are a testament to the skill and artistry of the master storyteller who has crafted them with such care and precision.

[Impressioni scritte prima del 15 febbraio 2018]

That Saturday afternoon, stopped at a traffic light waiting for the left-turn arrow, my eye in the rearview mirror shows me a perfectly clear image, neither blinded by the sunlight of a sunny day nor obscured by the darkness of night.

As if it were the rectangular screen of a cinema in a contrast of black and white, I see a couple in sharp focus in the car behind me. They are middle-aged, neither ugly nor beautiful, dressed ordinarily but not carelessly.

They are talking about something, calmly without particular excitement or emphasis: perhaps the shopping to do or the young children, maybe the movie to decide; he says something briefly, from his lips I can't understand, they are silent for a few seconds, then she turns her gaze, which was first directed towards the window about twenty degrees, towards her husband and replies or anyway says something in turn, then again silence.

The left-turn arrow turns green, I engage the gear and the roads that have touched for the space of a traffic light divide forever, without an end, I will never know anything more about them.

A scene that could have been inserted into a story by Carver, giving the perception of what one feels at the end of every story by Carver.

Ordinary people who do ordinary jobs, who live in ordinary houses, who eat ordinary meals, have ordinary conversations and love in an ordinary way, argue, as another thousand couples in the world are doing at this exact moment, call someone, or carefully wash dishes and glasses and in the meantime think they want to escape, people who leave or go back on their steps, or push the carpet carefully back and forth in the room.

I, you, he, we, you.

Nothing shines, nothing strikes, everything merges in the 35 stories: dialogues, people, environments, situations, it is the couple next door, it is the adventurer you brush against with your elbow at the bar counter only that you drink a coffee while, inside the stories of Carver over there on the other side of the ocean, he will have a glass of whiskey or a pint of beer in front of him, or a husband sitting on the sofa, or a woman who moves, anonymous antiheroes in whom one can easily identify.

So much has been said and written about the writing of Raymond Carver, who uses neither one word more nor one less, weighs words maniacally with the exactness of the surgeon's scalpel that does not want to cut one millimeter more of skin than he needs to repair a diseased tissue.

He is an artist of the story and it is true that the definition of minimalist is really not at all congenial to him.

It is true that he often leaves us with truncated story endings that leave us astonished and sometimes frustrated but this does not mean being minimalist, and neither does the calibrated use of words that he weighs like the jeweler weighs his grains of gold, working by subtraction without ever wasting two where it is possible to use only one mean being minimalist; because despite all this work of polishing he manages to never make us lack anything more than necessary, a lesson that is also useful in the confusion of sometimes empty and cascading words that bombard us from everywhere at every moment.

Then, by contrast, I can also love very much (even more?) other completely different short story writers, a Chekhov who knows how to paint wonderful landscapes of nature (The Steppe?), or a DWF with his long and structured stories on which you have to struggle and squeeze your brain like on a third-degree equation, or imaginative and full of myth and passion like The Siren by Giovanni Tomasi di Lampedusa, this does not make my appreciation for the apparent poverty of Raymond Carver any less.

Not all 35 stories reach the same peak of beauty and those that I have preferred, in addition to the very famous and beautiful What We Talk About When We Talk About Love and Cathedral, are grouped towards the end of the collection:

With So Much Water So Close to Home
Fever
Intimacy
Popular Mechanics
A Small, Good Thing
Elephant
The Compartment
The Will

There are numerous short story collections out there in the literary world.

However, then there is "Where I’m Calling From." This particular collection stands alone and is truly unparalleled.

It offers a unique and captivating exploration of various themes and human experiences. The stories within it are masterfully crafted, with richly developed characters and engaging plots.

Readers are drawn into a world of emotions, as they follow the lives and struggles of the individuals in each story. "Where I’m Calling From" has the power to transport readers to different times and places, making them feel as if they are right there with the characters.

It is a collection that leaves a lasting impression and is sure to be cherished by lovers of short stories for years to come.

Sometimes having an excess of a seemingly good thing can unexpectedly transform into something completely different.

For me, reading this collection of short stories by Raymond Carver falls into that category. Generally, I have a great affection for short stories, but these particular ones had a rather taxing effect on me. Perhaps my mental state wasn't in the right place at that time. As it happened, the stories almost began to merge and become indistinct.

There is no denying that the writing is of high quality. In these 37 short stories, one can obtain an accurate portrayal of life during the 1950s era. Smoking and drinking are extremely common. Infidelity and other inappropriate behaviors are gradually wearing away at already fragile marriages. There is a sense of resigned weariness towards life. People either wish to be someone else or simply wish to cease to exist altogether.

What exactly is love and how is it manifested? There is a man who is extremely obese, voraciously devouring food at a restaurant. There are also old hippie neighbors with their hookah and their delicious and enjoyable snacks. There is kleptomania, earwax, divorce, and yet more drinking and smoking.

It's a complex and somewhat disconcerting exploration of the human condition and the various aspects of life during that particular time period.

I do not normally like short stories.

I am a fan of the longer novels that really develop a storyline, characters, plot, and have a true climax and ending.

However, at the beginning of Carver's collection of short stories, I was interested in their variety.

As I read further, by the time I had read half of the book, I had realized that this variety was actually just a collection of various ways people are depressed and hate their lives.

The whole collection, to me, was just disturbing, depressing, or pointless.

I do not doubt the talent of Carver. His writing style is indeed impressive.

But when it comes down to it, I want to read something that I will enjoy.

And unfortunately, that was not this book. It failed to capture my interest and engage me on a deeper level.

Perhaps if the stories had offered more hope or a glimmer of light in the midst of the darkness, I might have had a different opinion.

But as it stands, this collection of short stories was not for me.

\\n  Murakami on Carver\\n

I have never encountered such a plethora of stories centered around divorcees, troubled marriages or relationships, dysfunctional families, and alcoholics. Carver's writing was astonishingly real, and this collection will indubitably remain etched in my memory. I will surely revisit it in the future, and perhaps as I reach the ages of the characters, who are generally over 30, I will form an even deeper connection with it.

I had been intrigued by the idea of reading Carver ever since Haruki Murakami had persistently lauded him in his interviews. Murakami had spent over 14 years translating Carver's collection into Japanese and had delved into great detail about his personal and professional life and writing in a 40-page interview dedicated to Carver from this book, which I, as a Murakami fan, am fortunate to have read. Here are some excerpts (my translation) from the interview in September 2004 (for the Japanese literary magazine, 文學界 Bungakukai):

Although Carver's prose was realist, his stories contained surprisingly potent anti-realism elements. Things that were incredibly radical. However, there are some who overlook those aspects and simply state, \\"What's new about his writing? All these stories are just plain realism\\", offering a simplistic and cursory assessment. On the other hand, others vehemently praise his writing,宣称 \\"He portrays the everyday lives of American blue-collar workers brilliantly\\", only skimming the surface. In this context, I believe Carver's true literary value was elusive. We should also bear in mind that since Carver was a writer who emerged within academicism, he was once embroiled in rather unproductive debates such as \\"Are creative writing courses meaningful?\\". For these trivial matters to be resolved and a proper evaluation of Carver's writing to be achieved, I think more time is required. Nevertheless, I firmly believe that a significant number of the 70-odd short stories Carver left behind will be passed down to future generations as classics. (p.267)

What I perceive Carver to have done was to employ his own unique system to dissect the various aspects of a situation or the world and then reconstruct them into the form of a story. Of course, this is more or less what many authors attempt. In that process, the writing itself was not an element of supreme importance to him. It was simply that, in the course of that reconstruction, in other words, by tightening the screws on his own system of writing fiction, Carver's writing style emerged as an inevitable outcome. In the cases of Fitzgerald and Capote, things somewhat commence from the writing style. Needless to say, that isn't everything, but there is a broad realm governed by the writing. However, with Carver, the writing style was content with being at a bare minimum. Using bicycles as an analogy, it would be a bit crude to say a shopping bike, but a ten-speed bike was not necessary. If the writing style was truly essential, then even if it wasn't appealing, what mattered was that it served its purpose. For instance, a simple sentence like \\"The telephone rang while he was running the vacuum cleaner.\\" when simply placed at the start of a story, exudes a mysteriously powerful presence.
I still cherish translating Fitzgerald and Capote, but personally, I don't have a strong inclination to write such elegant prose. Just as when gazing at beautiful craftsmanship, you would be impressed, thinking \\"this is wonderful\\", but you wouldn't desire to copy it. Well, okay, even if I wanted to, I wouldn't be able to, and what I want to do is something entirely different anyway. If there is something I have learned from Carver, it won't be something specific that can be singled out, such as the writing style, technique, or storytelling. It would be something like an understanding of how an author establishes their own unique system of story composition and an efficient yet earnest way of bringing that to fruition; or perhaps a willingness to vow to live life while carrying that understanding. (pp. 285-286)

For Raymond Carver, the moral minimum was to write with desperation, as if expending a piece of his own soul - thus, he couldn't abide people who did not adhere to such morals. He was a kind, warm, and gentle person, but in an essay, he confessed that he couldn't feel the affection a friend should have towards those who compromised on writing or those whom he could only assume were compromising on writing. In such cases, his point was that he wouldn't say \\"He's a nice guy, but...\\", but rather the perspective of \\"a nice guy\\" would vanish entirely. When someone like that is near you, you truly feel the need to be serious and give your all. (p.297)

June 25, 2015

Raymond's collection of stories is truly exceptional.

Each story is so honest and emotively rich that it immediately draws the reader in.

What I particularly love about Raymond's style is his ability to specifically allude to an object or sensation, such as fever.

Fever is an occurrence that may seem simple on the surface, but in Raymond's hands, it is filled with thematic importance and depth.

It becomes a symbol that represents much more than just a physical ailment.

The way he weaves these allusions into the fabric of his stories adds an extra layer of complexity and nuance.

Overall, I absolutely loved this collection.

It is a testament to Raymond's talent as a writer and his ability to create stories that are both engaging and thought-provoking.

I would highly recommend this collection to anyone who enjoys reading stories that are rich in emotion and meaning.

I must admit that in the beginning, there were stories that didn't leave a particular impression.

However, as time passed, each story became better than the previous one.

This was evident when I fell in love with Carver's writing style.

His words have a unique charm that draws the reader in and makes them want to keep reading.

The way he describes characters and situations is so vivid that it feels as if you are right there with them.

Carver's stories are not just about the events that take place, but also about the emotions and thoughts of the characters.

He has a way of getting to the heart of the matter and making you feel something.

Overall, I am very glad that I discovered Carver's writing and look forward to reading more of his work in the future.

I purchased this with the intention of reading the seven stories that were penned subsequent to the publication of Cathedral. By the time of the last of these stories, death was already lurking menacingly around Carver. The style of at least the last several (4) is remarkably novel. It encompasses elements such as stream of consciousness and a more objectively historical approach, as is evident in the poignant Errands (which is about the death of Chekov). This collection represents the final works of Carver. And, solely for that reason, it is eminently worthy of being read.

It offers a unique insight into the evolution of Carver's writing style in his final days. The diverse range of techniques employed in these stories showcases his literary prowess and experimentation. Whether it's the fluidity of stream of consciousness or the objective portrayal of historical events, each story has its own charm and significance. Reading these stories not only allows us to appreciate Carver's talent but also provides a glimpse into the mind of a great writer in his final moments.

Overall, this collection is a must-read for any fan of Carver or anyone interested in exploring the depths of modern literature.

A good collection of entertaining short stories

But, to be honest, I'm not as captivated by Carver's stories as the majority of people appear to be. Some of his tales seem rather pointless, almost as if he just jotted down whatever popped into his mind without any clear sense of where he was headed with it. However, most of the stories did possess a certain direction. For instance, there was one about a mother and her rebellious son, another about a couple on the verge of bankruptcy, and yet another about a couple making an unexpected visit to another couple. But even these seemed to be written in a rather casual and offhand manner. Carver also typically concludes his stories very abruptly, lacking a satisfying conclusion. Often, he ends with some sort of remark that seems completely unrelated to the story. Despite all my criticisms, though, I must admit that I did enjoy the book. There was something about the simplicity and rawness of his writing that still managed to draw me in and hold my interest.

Sure, please provide the article that needs to be rewritten and expanded.