Before I picked up this collection, I only knew of Carver. Nothing special, no details - I was just, you know, aware that there was once an uncle named Raymond Carver who had written a few rather well-known short story collections. That's all. And then, logically, like any enthusiastic boy, when I saw the title What We Talk About When We Talk About Love, I thought it was about some cheesy melodramas and said (to myself, of course): "It won't work, Mr. Raymond! Maybe another time."
And here comes that other time. I don't even know how (okay, I know how - there were four beers at the bookshop). The fluttering cover landed in my outstretched hands. And, to no one's surprise (anglicism), Carver is not at all what I imagined him to be, that is, I couldn't have made a worse mistake. Indeed, to tell the truth, it's still about a kind of melodramas. But they are depressive, often sadistic, so dark that they can be comfortably called hopeless - but also in a way beautiful. Truly beautiful. Or at least sincere. Although who says those two words can't be synonyms?
Carver's style is that kind of masculine simplicity. Like Dovlatov without humor, Hemingway without that charismatic arrogance. Carver's style is the framework. And that framework allows the reader to really see some things. That's why I liked it so much, I think. Usually, I don't like short stories because, um, it takes time for the writer to "win me over". With Carver, it's all capcapcap, whether you like it or not, listen, here's the shock, the end. The first story opens the collection in just such a way, combining depression and discomfort, and immediately tells me that something special awaits me.
I read on Wikipedia that Carver's analogue in the world of painting is in a way Edward Hopper, through that dirty realism, and I agree, but I also think that both tend towards a kind of hyperrealism (not to sin against the soul, I like the word for their work more than I can fully claim to know what I'm talking about). Because what Hopper did with colors, stripping layer by layer to those elemental, raw and powerful ones, that's what Carver did with his style and the lives of his characters - but never with the characters themselves. No matter how naked they were, in a social sense (usually ordinary workers with a drink but not a picture but a story), in those few hundred words of individual stories, they have lives. They inhabit a completely desolate world, where there is no room for any complexity and muddled beauty, but there is always room for that personal I, no matter how problematic it is. And it seems to me that in the vast majority of stories, the focus is precisely on that, not on any action or plot (with a few exceptions, and usually those stories were also weaker for me, and they "stole" a point), but on that cry in an empty room and the subsequent listening to one's own words. Because these people, trapped in stories about "love", just want that - to be heard somewhere, somehow. Carver gave them that opportunity, like few others.
p.s. I like that Carver said that his greatest influence was Loren Darel (and not Hemingway). There's no connection at all when it comes to their styles. But the psychological nuances are there.
A wonderful card and so simple in its enigmatic complexity. I felt like I was in a Creative fiction class. I felt as if Carver was teaching me to write prose for the first time after I had mastered the alphabet. He has a primary writing, but full of charm...
Carver doesn't deceive, but he takes you through the most tumultuous states. A Chekhov across the ocean, so simplistic and dramatic. I'm not going to write more about this book because there may have been more reviews better than mine written.
This book by Carver is truly a gem. It has a unique allure that draws the reader in and keeps them engaged from start to finish. The stories are deceptively simple on the surface, but upon closer inspection, they reveal profound insights into the human condition. Carver's writing style is spare and economical, yet he manages to convey a wealth of emotion and meaning with just a few carefully chosen words. Each story is like a snapshot of a moment in time, capturing the essence of a character or a situation in a way that is both poignant and unforgettable.
What We Talk About When We Talk About Love is a remarkable collection consisting of seventeen concise yet powerful stories that lay bare the unadorned and often ragged face of love. Contrary to the romanticized view that Frank Sinatra might have led us to believe, love, as Carver portrays it, is a fragile entity. Each story within this collection speaks volumes about love that has lost its luster. It presents a despairing and sobering perspective on love, all the more poignant because Carver avoids the pitfalls of sentimentality and exaggeration.
Several of the stories delve into the theme of love that has been blighted by various factors such as drunkenness, infidelity, or the sheer wear and tear of marriage. Carver, who himself had struggled with alcoholism, writes with authenticity about the destruction it can wreak. In ‘Mr. Coffee and Mr. Fixit’, the narrator and his wife both attend AA meetings. The wife has an affair with Ross, a fellow AA member who has little to offer. He limps from a gunshot wound inflicted by his wife and also has a younger lover on the side. One wonders what could possibly attract the wife to him. The narrator remarks, ‘He was in his mid-thirties when he went under. Lost his job and took up the bottle. I used to make fun of him when I had a chance. But I don’t make fun of him anymore.’ Despite losing his wife, the narrator still retains the ability to empathize with a man who has been similarly scarred by alcohol.
Infidelity is a prominent theme in several of the stories. In ‘Gazebo’, a couple manages a hotel together, but the man has an ongoing affair with a cleaning maid hired by his wife. He continues his unfaithfulness while simultaneously professing his wife to be his one true love. It is a tiresome and all-too-familiar scenario. In ‘Sacks’, a middle-aged man sits at a bar and confesses to his son about an extramarital affair with a saleswoman who comes to his house with a sack for his wife while she is out. In the bar, a woman is seen flirting with two men, serving as a silent refrain to the man’s confession. The father seems truly remorseful when he tells his son, “I liked to have died over it.” However, as in ‘Gazebo’, this regret fails to bring about any real change.
The mundane realities of day-to-day life, such as responsibility, ill health, and other personal crises, also pose a threat to the fabric of a marriage and gradually wear it thin. In ‘Bath’, a mother orders a birthday cake for her son, but he meets with an accident, and she ends up sitting in the hospital with her husband, both frightened and exhausted, waiting for their son to wake up. In ‘After the Denim’, a couple goes to play cards in a community club and discovers a young couple cheating at cards. The man is furious at their dishonesty, but the evening is further soured when his wife realizes in the toilet that their hope of having a child has been dashed yet again. Typically, in Carver’s stories about long-married couples, their challenges are juxtaposed against the carefree and light-hearted atmosphere of younger courting couples. For example, in ‘Why Don’t You Dance’, a young couple is seen buying a bed and TV at a yard sale of a man whose marriage has ended. In “After The Denim’, one cannot help but wonder if the denim-clad couple is aware of what lies ahead for them once the physical touching and cheating at cards have ceased.
The strongest story in this collection is the eponymous tale in which two couples sit over gin and tonic and engage in a debate about the nature of love. With Carver, it is essential to pay attention to the way he sets the backdrop for his stories. We are told that ‘The afternoon sun was like a presence in this room, the spacious light of ease and generosity.’ The conversation begins amicably enough but becomes increasingly difficult when Terry, one of the women, mentions a lover who has attempted to kill her and even beaten her up. She firmly believes that this is love, while her husband (Mel) vehemently disagrees. Questions such as how long love lasts and whether love is only as long as a memory are thrown into the air. As the debate drags on wearily, Carver dims the lights. The narrator remarks, : ‘Maybe we were a little drunk by then. I know it was hard keeping things in focus. The light was draining out of the room, going back through the window where it had come from...’ By the end of the story, the room has become completely dark.
It is a terrifying thought to consider that love has the potential to turn violent and cause harm to those in its path. In ‘A Serious Talk’, where a marriage has disintegrated beyond repair, a man visits his wife and children on Christmas Day and nearly sets the house on fire. In ‘Popular Mechanics’, a man who is leaving his wife engages in a fierce struggle with her over their baby, with disastrous consequences. Meanwhile, dirty snow melts down the window pane, and the darkness outside mirrors the darkness within the bedroom and their lives.
Read Carver’s stories. They are tightly written and have a profound impact. What is love truly? The collage of love presented here is far from beautiful. One thing, however, seems certain about its nature. Love requires nurturing and careful attention; otherwise, it will wither and die.