\\"Booze takes a lot of time and effort if you’re going to do a good job with it.\\"

Indeed. If one wanted to distill the stories within this collection down to a pithy, inverted, Hallmark-style aphorism, this would be a top contender.

(Click For Review Soundtrack: \\"Little Person\\")

Drinking, smoking, and talking: these are the true main characters of Carver’s world. And make no mistake: he’s summoned and crafted a distinctive world. We could perhaps more aptly refer to this trifecta as the true plot devices. In any case, these things, whatever we call them, are not just a thread uniting the stories but a thick multi-braided rope. The sort one of Carver’s blue collar archetypes might use to drag a freshly felled oak through the snow or, more likely, to break their fall while snapping their neck in a final, irredeemable act, right after polishing off a fifth of cheap bourbon.

Basically, the characters’ names and jobs seem less important than the brand of booze they're downing or the sort of receptacle they extinguish their cigarettes in. At the same time, though these things stand out, the characters don't feel like mere vessels for Carver’s words. They manage to be sympathetic, despicable, objects of pity, curiosity, and more. But basically everyone is miserable in some way. Carver’s characters give new life and energy to the old chestnut that \\"Misery loves company\\". That saying really comes alive and drunkenly tap dances on the page.

And this is where the magic of Carver lies for me. How does he do it? I use the word \\"magic\\" in both the colloquial, metaphorical sense of \\"pleasant,\\" \\"enchanting,\\" and so on, and also, more so, in the sense of literal magic tricks. How does he do it? You see this famously spare narrative, the extremely narrow range of subject matter (drunk, sad, average people being drunk and sad and average) repeating to the point that stories merge, the lack of purple prose, the bluntness of it all, and yet you're affected in a tremendous way. Affected in a way that's hard to explain given how the work looks on paper.

Perhaps the problem is that every way I try to describe the depth of these stories comes off as a repetitive cliché. Another thought is that it almost feels wrong to put a new, clever spin on these stories. To analyze such raw slices of life might miss some point. But I ultimately think it's not a grave sin to do so. It reflects the desire in each of Carver’s stories - to find company for our misery and otherwise. To exchange pieces of ourselves while we can. I'll just have to save it for a night with You, seated at a table, with a large ashtray and a long line of adult beverages behind us.

Here is the rewritten and expanded article:

Sentences that mean nothing but are intended to mean anything and everything. These are the kind of sentences that can leave you scratching your head, wondering what on earth the author is trying to convey. They seem to be a jumble of words, lacking any clear meaning or purpose. But perhaps that is the point. Maybe the author is trying to make us think, to question our assumptions about language and meaning. Maybe these sentences are a form of art, designed to challenge our perceptions and expand our minds. Or perhaps they are simply a way for the author to express themselves in a way that is unique and individual. Whatever the reason, sentences that mean nothing but are intended to mean anything and everything are a fascinating and mysterious phenomenon.

When I initially began reading, I felt that these stories were somewhat too concise and seemed a bit unfinished. They were mere snippets of lonely individuals and troubled relationships, lacking the depth that I could truly engage with. I set the book aside. However, when I picked it up for the second time, I realized that these stories are better understood and appreciated when read with fewer interruptions. Although the stories feature a diverse range of characters, I found their commonalities, differences, views, and struggles to be extremely captivating, even if not always pleasant. Reading the stories consecutively helped to draw me in and establish a connection with the characters. The words, despite being brief and simple, were astonishingly effective in portraying the human condition with rawness, humor, and poignancy, while also providing a glimpse into American society.

Here are a few memorable lines from some of my favorite stories:

“There was a little rectangle of lawn, the driveway, the carport, front steps, bay window, and the window I’d been watching from in the kitchen. So why would I want a photograph of this tragedy?” – from Viewfinder

“Things are better now. But back in those days, when my mother was putting out, I was out of work. My kids were crazy, and my wife was crazy. She was also crazy. The guy that was getting it was an unemployed aerospace engineer she’d met at AA. He was also crazy.” – from Mr. Coffee and Mr. Fixit

“The thing was, they had to have a serious talk soon. There were things that needed talking about, important things that had to be discussed. They’d talk again. Maybe after the holidays were over and things got back to normal. He’d tell her the goddamn ashtray was a goddamn dish, for example.” – from A Serious Talk

“But what I liked about knights, besides their ladies, was that they had that suit of armor, you know, and they couldn’t get hurt very easy. No cars in those days, you know? No drunk teenagers to tear into your ass.” – from What We Talk About When We Talk About Love

Fix a drink, have a smoke, and discover Raymond Carver.

Posted at Shelf Inflicted

I don't know about you, but I've never really understood the hype surrounding Carver's writing.

Yes, I'm aware of the "unique, outsider" label that has been attached to him, but having spent years reading the work of outsiders as an agent, I think the only reason this review exists at all is because of Gordon Lish.

Lish latched onto something in Carver's writing and polished it. But he polished it into something it never was before, and this is undeniable considering Carver's widow, Tess Gallagher, didn't like what Lish did and undid it.

The specific story I'll focus on is the title one, "What We Talk About When We Talk About Love." Originally titled "Beginners," it's a four-person "Decameron" of lower-class life, a series of sad, slovenly people narrating the dead ends of others. It's what we now call grit lit or, in the 1940s, intellectuals might have labeled it "noir."

If you read Carver's letters to Lish, you'll see how much of Lish's influence there is. Editors do leave their mark on a writer's work, but in this case, it seems excessive.

I borrowed the Kindle edition of this book from the library and read both the Lished version and Carver's original. I can't say I preferred one over the other as I wasn't overly fond of either. They're not bad, but I wonder why this work was considered so marvelous.

There's so much great work out there by QUILTBAG authors, Black authors, Asian and Asian-American authors, and more. Why spend time on this collection when there are so many other, more compelling works to read?

Imagine if a lesbian had written these stories. Would it still be a venerated cultural artifact? More likely, it would be a forgotten typescript in an agent's archives.

“Elsewhere” (or “What We Talk About When We Talk About Great Writing” )

The other day after work, I found myself deeply lost in thought. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn't get this girl out of my mind. Moreover, the other girls who got away also lingered there. A sense of sadness and loneliness had crept into me, and I was in a fog of sorrow.

I attempted to look on the bright side. I was done with work and was free. Free from running packages downtown from the high-rises of glass and metal, those of stone and mortar, with elevators of different speeds and various security procedures, and cars that never yielded. Fortunately, I had Raymond Carver’s “What We Talk About When Talk About Love” with me. I had read a couple of stories from it on the trolley ride to work. The slugs and fences, a man with all his possessions in his front yard, a birthday cake yet to be picked up - all were part of the wonderful collection of stories I held in my hands.

Now that I had some time to kill and had to go elsewhere, but not immediately. So off to the library I went. It was the perfect place for the lonely, as well as the homeless, the frantic, and the fringe, but also for students and families. I descended the stairs to the reading section and picked a good spot to read. However, it was easier said than done. A baby was crying, two worn and drunk men were talking loudly about finding shelters and good places to drink, and cell phones kept ringing. I thought, “Can you please be quiet, please!” My brain was churning, but finally the volume settled, and I read some more of “What We Talk About When We Talk About Love”. Boy, was I completely immersed in each story. They were brief yet lasting, some dark and sinister, but all breathing life.

Time flew by after that, and it was time to leave. But before I left, I stopped by the check-out desk. I swallowed hard when the librarian said, “How can I help you?” She was in her late twenties, long and slender, with porcelain skin, dark brown hair, and dimples near both cheeks. I approached and said, “I was wondering if something came in that I requested.” She took my library card and said, “Um…The Tree of Life still has over a hundred requests before yours.” She smiled and told me. I replied, “Wow, guess I should just give up and just rent it.” Then she asked, “Well, is there anything else I can help you with?” I looked at her, and I'm sure I was blushing and breathing hard. I said, “Actually, I was wondering if I could request some books, a couple by Raymond Carver. I was at the main branch the other day, and one was lost or something. You should read him if you haven't.” She said, “I have. He’s really good.” I smiled back and said, “Yeah, I really like the one that I’m reading now,” pointing to the book in my hand. She leaned over slightly and said, “I love that book. I have read it a bunch of times.” I continued, “The story Bath is the same as a story I read in a different Raymond Carver collection, the first one I read, Cathedral.” She said, “Um…Yeah, I think that sounds right. He reused stories or something?” She seemed a little puzzled as she reached into her memory bank. I then told her, “Did you see that Will Ferrell movie based on one of Carver’s stories? It’s called Everything Must Go and is taken from Why Don’t You Dance. In the movie, they added more characters and changed it a lot, but the record part is still in it.” I don't remember for sure what was said after that. She said something about never hearing about the movie, and we talked some more about Carver’s writing and just how good it was. Then I thanked her and left. Time was up, and it was time to go elsewhere.

This is a compilation of 17 short stories that can be best described as exploring the melancholia of marriage, men and their drinking issues, and a hint of their insanity.

I have finished the book, in a sense that I'm done but not completely. I have only read eight stories and will not be reading any more, and you'll soon understand why.

Why Don't You Dance? ★☆☆☆☆ An old man sells his furniture and record player to a young couple who are determined to figure out the reason.

Mr Coffee and Mr Fixit ★☆☆☆☆ Just skip this one really. It's about nothing.

I Could See The Smallest Things ★☆☆☆☆ A strange story about neighbors and slugs.

Tell The Women We're Going ★★☆☆☆ It starts on a calmer note with two best friends growing up and having their own families that spend weekends hanging out and barbecuing. Out of nowhere, there's a murder. Yes, that escalated quickly.

So Much Water So Close To Home ★★★☆☆ This was a thrilling read and the best one in the collection. A group of friends go on a fishing trip and come across the dead body of a young girl. Read this one as it keeps you on the edge of your seat.

Popular Mechanics ★☆☆☆☆ Splitting parents fighting over the baby.

What We Talk About When We Talk About Love ★★☆☆☆ I really don't know what to make of this story. It's four people (2 couples) who drink and talk about seemingly pointless things that aren't even engaging and clearly they aren't having fun. Wait, does it say that Mel becomes Ed? Even if it does, the story is kind of pointless just like the car crash story Mel narrates.

One More Thing ★☆☆☆☆ A story about an abusive father and the mother who kicks him out of the house to protect her daughter.

A simple collection of family stories.

These stories are like precious treasures that have been passed down through generations. They capture the essence of family life, filled with love, laughter, and sometimes even tears.

Each story has its own unique charm, whether it's a tale of a heroic act by a family member, a humorous incident that brought the whole family together, or a heartwarming moment of connection.

They serve as a reminder of the importance of family and the bonds that hold us together.

This collection is not just a set of stories, but a reflection of our shared history and the values that we hold dear. It is a celebration of the beauty and complexity of family life, and a testament to the power of storytelling to bring people closer.

Through these stories, we can learn from the past, cherish the present, and look forward to the future with hope and love.

An interesting collection of short stories indeed, and this is the very first one I've delved into from Carver. The stories possess a certain charm that captivates the reader in a simplistic yet profound manner. What's rather unique is that they frequently come to an end before the entire story seems to have been fully unraveled. I suppose this might contribute to the element of intrigue, leaving the reader with a sense of mystery and a desire to know more. However, from my perspective, it also frustrated me when I was reading a story that didn't feel quite complete. Despite this, I still look forward to exploring more of his works. I'm eager to see what other literary gems he has in store and how his writing style will continue to engage and challenge me.

In his micro and mini-contos, Raymond Carver masterfully creates scenarios of existence and love. It is as if by simply blinking our eyes, these scenarios and those who inhabit them would emerge, never to be erased again. They remain there, floating right in the center of our pupils. With an incredible realism and simplicity. Many times I thought: How does he do this?

And perhaps this is among the most beautiful titles of all time. Raymond Carver's works have a unique charm that draws readers in and makes them linger in the world he has created. His ability to capture the essence of human experience in just a few words is truly remarkable. Each micro and mini-conto is like a snapshot of a moment in time, filled with emotions and meanings that resonate with us long after we have finished reading.

Whether it is a story about love, loss, or simply the ordinary moments of life, Carver's writing has the power to touch our hearts and make us see the world in a new light. His use of simple language and straightforward narratives belies the depth and complexity of his themes. In a world where so much writing is overly complicated and convoluted, Carver's work is a refreshing reminder of the beauty and power of simplicity.

Raymond Carver (1938 - 1988) is perhaps the most influential American short story writer. In Romania, short stories don't sell very well, even if the authors are Borges, Cortazar, Carver, or Bolaño. It's a pity.

Carver established a style and a mode. He composed a laconic, fragmented prose, lacking all "causal" conjunctions (such as because, since, for, etc.), which makes it truly enigmatic. The author skips explanations and doesn't let the narrator reveal everything until the end. The narrator is usually a simple and approximately educated individual. He is also instinctive (like Faulkner). He doesn't go into rigid definitions, philosophical generalizations, or fine explanations. Not even when discussing love.

"Love was when Ed would pull me down and hit my head on the floor; love was when he made me a whore," a woman (Teresa) ecstatically confesses after a few glasses of alcohol.

Carver's narrators speak with an indescribable lightness, not realizing their instant, unpremeditated humor. The only one who is aware of this result is the author. But he makes no comment.

In "Bags," a parent with major ethical questions tries to explain to his son how he fell into sin unwillingly. The wrong time! He tells the incident as follows:

"Well, and not long after that he laughed briefly at something I said. Something that could potentially be interpreted in two ways. Then [the woman] asks me if I know the one with the traveling shoe salesman who visits a widow. We both laugh, and then I tell her something a bit more off-color. At which she laughs herself silly and lights another cigarette. Then, one thing leads to another, you know. I kissed her, what the hell. I put her head on the back of the couch and kissed her and just felt her tongue slipping into my mouth. You know what I mean? You can go along like that and respect all the rules, and then suddenly nothing matters. Just bad luck falls on you, you know? But it all lasted very briefly. And after that, she says: `You probably think I'm a slut or something` and leaves. I was so agitated, you know? I straightened the couch and turned the pillows. I folded all the newspapers and even washed the cups we drank from. I cleaned the pot I made coffee in. And all the time I was thinking how I was going to face your mother. I was scared" (pp.53-54).

The masterpiece of this volume is, I admit, the story "So Much Water So Close to Home." A few guys find a drowned girl in a river, but they continue to drink and fish for two days in complete indifference and only when they have to go home do they notify the police. They naturally become the main suspects. Their wives want to leave them. But they are lucky and the culprit is caught. The women, as usual, change their minds.

In conclusion, I would add an "if." If I were very young and wanted to write prose, I would mistakenly buy Carver's volume and read it repeatedly with a pen in my hand. You can't learn more about concision and placing the right epithet next to the right noun from any other prose writer. Which, it must be admitted, is no small thing.

\\"What We Talk About When We Talk About Love\\" by Raymond Carver is a collection of short stories that, without grand rhetorical artifices and set within the framework of North American dirty realism. It is a minimalist narrative with a certain tendency towards laconicism. A large part of its content is worked in ellipsis, depicting the lives of decadent characters who address themes such as solitude, lack of hope, fear of the future, love in its various forms, and so on. These are stories with diverse levels of reading in their profundities.

Carver's writing style is characterized by its simplicity and directness. He strips away the unnecessary details and gets straight to the heart of the matter. The stories are often set in ordinary, everyday situations, but through his masterful use of language, he manages to揭示 the hidden depths and complexities of human nature.

The minimalist approach also gives the reader a sense of参与 in the story. By leaving so much unsaid, Carver invites the reader to fill in the gaps and create their own interpretations. This makes the reading experience more engaging and personal.

In conclusion, \\"What We Talk About When We Talk About Love\\" is a remarkable collection of short stories that offers a unique and thought-provoking exploration of the human condition.

Carver has written a book about his craft.

Here, instead of showing the tools of his work, he directly takes us into the workshop of technique, where, however, the product-stories are already completed. Or perhaps not? Maybe he is precisely an author of the "open work."

I have read little of him, but I liked it very much. There are the architectures of emotions. I remember a story in which a man and a woman throw objects at each other. As if they were throwing parts of themselves, parts of a reality in which they do not feel included, but that they nevertheless necessarily feel they have to love.

It is thus, by knocking down the wall between subjects and objects, that Carver creates a world where pain is always tolerable. And it seems to me that Carver also throws something at us, besides making us see that existences on the verge are in truth less silent and more sensitive than we would like: the titles of the stories that catch a certain part of our attention, as if for a moment we had to close our eyes.

It is not depressing, it is realistic, it is a way of speaking through indirect emotions, it is against the grain.

Closing is mandatory, with the "critical" quote on the back, of David Foster Wallace: "Carver was not a minimalist, he was an artist."

This statement by Wallace truly encapsulates the essence of Carver's work. His stories are not just simple and minimalistic; they are profound and artistic expressions that touch the core of human emotions and experiences.

Carver's ability to create such a unique and engaging world within his stories is a testament to his talent as a writer.

His works continue to be widely read and studied, inspiring generations of writers and readers alike.