Will You Please Be Quiet, Please?

Ray Carver's poetry is truly expansive and exceptional. In contrast, his short stories,尽管非常出色, seem to pale a little for me.

And yet, they are still outstanding. The twenty-two stories collected here were written throughout the 1960s and 1970s. They began when Mr. Carver was roughly 25 years old and ended around the time he turned 38.

Many of them are short, with just a few exceptions. Here's what most of them have in common: a married, working-class couple who work apart, drink together, and have an unusually stiff formality with each other.

Ray Carver's first marriage ended by 1982, but he got married young and was with his wife for more than two decades. From his perspective, it was a partnership degraded by poverty and often fueled by alcohol. However, it's still interesting to me to wonder about his perception of marriage as such a formal agreement between two people.

For some couples, it has been like this for centuries. It wasn't that long ago that a married couple on a TV program couldn't be shown kissing or sleeping in the same bed. Public displays of affection were rare, and marriage partners often addressed each other as “Mr.” and “Mrs.”

The fictional spouses Carver presents often fumble around each other. They are like strangers in the dark, rarely using each other's first names. I was confused by a phone call between a husband and wife in “Put Yourself in My Shoes.” I couldn't even tell that the two characters were married because they were so formal on the phone!

So, there's this divide, this division between the genders. (It was the 60s and 70s, and all the couples depicted here were heterosexual.) Always strangers in a strange land.

But interestingly, where there is division, there is also tension. It doesn't take much for these couples to get confused, agitated, or for a situation to blow up in their faces.

The story from this particular collection that will stay with me for a long time is called “The Idea.” In it, a married couple becomes an unlikely pair of voyeurs when they discover their next-door neighbor often peeps at his own wife. The peeping Tom and his wife create an exciting connection with this scenario, while the awkward neighbors next door stuff themselves, awkwardly, with snacks and cigarettes after realizing their own inability to connect. It's brilliant how much is conveyed about the psychology of marriage in just five pages.

This was a great addition to my 70s project, and I'm grateful to my sister, who shares my love of reading, for sending it to me for Christmas!

Just as Flannery O'Connor's stories occur at a crucial turning point in her characters' lives, Raymond Carver's are centered around a make-or-break moment. You know, it's the "breaking" that holds significance for Carver, the breaking that he seizes through his unwavering lens. His stories, which are truly concise, often just 6-8 pages long, bring us directly into the broken heart. And at the end, we are left to imagine or envision what follows. What comes next isn't as vital as the breaking, the crisis, which can either lead to change or healing, or serve as a signpost for more of the same.

Published in 1976, this is Carver's first collection. Earlier this month, I read "What We Talk About When We Talk About Love" (my review here). In those pages, I discovered a new favorite writer. "Will You Please Be Quiet, Please" (oh, how I love this title) was also a delight, although I found this debut collection slightly uneven, perhaps a bit less accessible than his later work.

Despite certain challenges, Carver rewards a close reader with scattered Easter eggs that shed light on deeper meaning. For instance, in "What's In Alaska?", the casual gathering is filled with phallic symbols (hookah pipe, bottles of cream soda, popsicles). The foreshadowing of the "U-No" (you know) bars indicates that the main character will uncover something important. Then the imagery of the cat eating the mouse, which is revisited at the end, is a grim vision of a cuckold and the man who defeats him.

Including the above, these are my favorite stories out of the 22:
* "Fat" - A waitress is touched and transformed after serving an obese man.
* "They're Not Your Husband" - An unemployed salesman makes his wife lose weight after hearing people make mean remarks about her figure.
* "Jerry and Molly and Sam" - A man abandons the family dog, believing it will help solve his problems.
* "Why, Honey?" - A mother lives in fear of her son, who is now a powerful politician.
* "Are These Actual Miles?" - A couple who have lived the high life and now face bankruptcy are forced to sell their convertible.
* "Signals" - A couple on the verge of separation go fine dining in the hope of reconciliation.
* "Will You Please Be Quiet, Please?" - A man asks his wife to tell him what really happened at a party two years ago, and the truth stings.

Each of these stories is told in his signature minimalist style. They are laid bare - scars, flaws, and ugliness there for all to see in the harsh light of day. Documenting the tsunamis of everyday life, these stories demand to be read with attention - every word on the page is significant, otherwise it wouldn't be there.

Oh, Raymond Carver. What a master at capturing glimpses of life, the beauty and tragedy we all experience when it "breaks". It doesn't get much better than this.

4.5 stars

These stories are uniformly bleak, presenting piercing vignettes that delve deep into the disappointments and insecurities of working class people.

The relentlessness of the raw pain on display here is extremely stark. At times, it is very, very difficult to continue reading as the emotions are so intense.

However, that being said, these are some of the most beautifully written stories you are likely to come across. The language and the way the stories are crafted are truly remarkable.

Even if you need to take some time to recuperate in between finishing one and starting another, it is well worth the effort. Each story offers a unique perspective and a powerful exploration of the human condition within the context of the working class.

It is a collection that will leave a lasting impression and make you think about the lives and struggles of those who often go unnoticed in society.

3 and a half stars, rounded up because it demands a re-read in the future.

In my experience, American realism is about minimalism, simplicity, and directness. And while Carver’s prose is clean, minimalist, simple, and direct, his stories truly are anything but. My husband strongly recommended his work to me, and I picked up his first published collection (instead of the more famous “What We Talk About When We Talk About Love”) because the title made me smile. That smile did not last long; it was quickly replaced by a slightly puzzled frown. What the Hell did I get myself into with these short stories?

Each of these short stories seems to contain more than one tale. There’s the story on the surface, the one that meets the eye, and then there’s something else going on in the murky waters below. I’d get to the end of one short story and get the urge to start again from the beginning, because I felt like I had missed a crucial detail. I was also stunned that none of them really give the reader any kind of resolution. So they linger in the mind like a weird taste at the back of your tongue, while you try to figure out what might have happened to these characters after the final word of their story.

Those stories capture something of the American working-poor life, the ever-looming squalor, the lack of refinement in the characters’ lives. The glimpses into the lives of those people Carver gives us are deliberately unhappy. He wants to make the reader uncomfortable, ill at ease, if only so they get a taste of what these people’s entire existence was like. There is disappointment, sadness, jealousy, loneliness, despair, bitterness, and secrets on almost every page. People who wish they had their neighbours’ lives, a husband who reacts in all the wrong ways when someone makes a nasty comment about his wife, a kid desperately trying to escape his parents’ fighting, a man finally facing his wife's infidelity.

So why read this if it’s so goddamned sad? It’s a valid question. Because the Spartan prose is beautiful, because the sad settings and sad characters are somehow distilled into something almost universal, like a snapshot of an authentic American experience. Carver’s voice is unsettling, but strong and moving. There is also a surprisingly dark humour that runs through those stories, the kind that will make you cringe more than laugh.

It also occurred to me that stories like that could not be set anywhere else than in the Rust Belt or North West. It doesn’t matter that they were written over forty years ago, the locality is palpable in the writing. There is a sort of resiliency, a hardness that only comes from seeing the world around oneself turn into a trap. The way a certain part of the Mid and North West of the United-States that turned from land of industrial prosperity into a wasteland of broken promises.

I will definitely be reading more Raymond Carver.

Despite the fact that the characters appear on stage and interact without any preamble, without us having any previous knowledge of their character or their life, it is amazing the ease with which Carver manages to make me inhabit the skin of his helpless characters and face the vital conflict that he presents in each story in the first person. For this very reason, the lack of an explicit ending is appreciated, which would only serve to transform us from protagonists to mere spectators.

Carver's writing style is truly unique. He has this ability to draw you in immediately and make you feel as if you are right there with the characters, experiencing their joys and sorrows. The way he presents the conflicts is so raw and real that it makes you question your own values and beliefs. His stories are not just about the characters, but about the human condition as a whole.

I absolutely adore Carver. His works have had a profound impact on me and have made me see the world in a different light. I highly recommend his stories to anyone who is looking for a thought-provoking and emotionally engaging read.

**EVERY STORY TELLS A PICTURE**

Robert Altman directs Andie MacDowell, Bruce Davison, and Lyle Lovett in perhaps the top episode. Each excuse is good for rereading a story by Carver. They are short and can be read quickly. And, there's nothing to be done: every time I immerse myself in one of his stories (a few words are enough, even less than a line, because he catapults me elsewhere), I wonder in what other way a story can be written. There is only his way, it is perfect, without flaws. Then, of course, maybe when I pick up those of Dubus, I ask myself the same thing.

What a shock, what a turmoil, what a revolution it must have been almost fifty years ago (forty-six) the publication of his first collection! No one wrote like this, I believe. And Carver has the ability to make you believe that writing like him is easy, is a small feat, is within everyone's reach. In fact, on the fourth page of the Einaudi edition it is written: "With the publication in 1976 of 'Will You Please Be Quiet, Please?', Raymond Carver's first collection, an irreversible turning point was imprinted in the idea of the short story and, soon, in the entire American literary landscape."
Then, there has been talk of minimalism, one of the most insipid and ridiculous literary currents, and perhaps even completely invented. And, in my opinion, it has been talked about more by us than overseas - if nothing else, by us surely for a longer time. And, in short, with this mania for minimalism, an attempt has been made to cage it, to stick a label on it, and, as we know, with the label everything seems less special, less unique.
I read his stories and I say to myself, but what ugly people, full of flaws, meanness, stinginess, aridity, misery, they are small, small people. Then, I realize that they resemble all those I know, they also resemble me, and even the person I am in love with. And so, yes, of course, Carver talks about me, about you, about her. He talks about us. But above all, he talks to me.
Gatsby had taught us that the American dream can hide a great illusion, or perhaps, it is precisely a great illusion. But another fifty years have passed, and Carver's antiheroes tell us that happiness tout court is at best an illusion. So too God. There is no trace of happiness, of a dream, let alone of God in these bars, in these kitchens and bedrooms.
This has been a rereading, as I have already said. Not complete, I skipped from one story to another: I privileged those that were incorporated into Altman's film (Neighbors, Collectors, They Are Not Your Husband, Will You Please Be Quiet, Please?, Jerry and Molly and Sam - I report them with the original title because in Italy there have been more translations and more editions, I know those of Minimum Fax, Garzanti, and Einaudi, and the titles change from one to another: for example, Collectors is Creditori for Garzanti and Collettori for Einaudi). I am fascinated by Altman's cinematic operation, which transferred everything to Los Angeles, instead of northern California, the states of Oregon and Washington, where Carver sets his stories - a brilliant and complex adaptation, hats off. And I am always fascinated by rereading Carver, as you can see.
The book is dedicated to Maryann, the first wife, married at eighteen.
In practice, it is Hemingway's theory of the iceberg.

La locandina del film.

Carver's stories had a profound impact on me, initially making me feel uncomfortable and gradually leading to a deep sense of sadness.

They all seemed to be like a sunset in a small town, with the air filled with the smell of damp soil and the yellow grass shining like gold in the sunlight.

Don't ask me to explain it, but even those stories that took place on cold, winter nights gave me the same feeling.

I had never expected that such short stories could be so complete, so rich in meaning and human emotions.

The titular story, in particular, was a masterpiece on its own. It managed to capture the essence of life and the complexity of human relationships in a concise yet powerful way.

Carver's writing style was simple yet evocative, making it easy for readers to immerse themselves in the stories and experience the emotions along with the characters.

His works are a testament to the power of short fiction and its ability to touch the hearts and souls of readers.

You can utilize this book as an antidote to Donald Barthelme.

And then, in case you become overly minimal, you can incorporate a bit of Barthelme back into the equation. It's like a cocktail.

I simply can't envision those two getting along in the realm of short story writer heaven.

I bet the Minimalists and the Postmodernists engage in vicious football matches every Sunday.

It's brute strength and singleness of purpose pitted against fancy footwork and sneering.

Regarding the note on Short Cuts by Robert Altman, a movie crafted from Carver stories: surprisingly, nay, amazingly, it's great.

In true Altmanesque style, all the stories and characters intertwine and interact with each other.

With one single exception (the story of the cellist, which isn't by Carver, the only one), it all functions splendidly.

Might even be Altman's finest moment. Certainly one of Tom Waits'.

Here's a summary - might prove useful...

“Fat” - A waitress serves a rotund man and is deeply affected by the encounter.

“Neighbors”* - A couple house-sitting for neighbors gradually usurps their neighbors’ lives. They start to relish the sensation of voyeurism and begin to hope: One remarks, “Maybe they won’t come back.”

“The Idea” - A couple spies on a man who spies on his own wife from his garden.

“They’re Not your Husband”* - An unemployed salesman makes his waitress wife diet when he realizes that other men consider her overweight.

“Are you a Doctor?” - A woman accidentally dials a doctor, it’s a wrong number. She implores him to meet her and he complies.

“The Father” - A mother, grandfather, and daughter discuss the new baby’s features. “But who does Daddy look like?”

“Nobody Said Anything” - A boy endeavors to impress his constantly bickering parents by catching a large fish.

“Sixty Acres” - A Native American accosts two young kids shooting ducks on his land. He lets them go. He decides to lease some of his land.

“What’s in Alaska?” - Two couples get stoned on marijuana and LSD one evening.

“Night School” - A man is unemployed and living with his parents. He meets two women in a bar and discloses, “I’d say you’re kind of old for that.”

“Collectors”* - A vacuum salesman demonstrator arrives at the home of an unemployed man. He pointlessly goes through his sales spiel.

“What do you do in San Francisco?” - A postman observes the young couple who move in next door. They seem to break up rather swiftly.

“The Student’s Wife” - A night of insomnia.

“Put yourself in my Shoes” - Returning from an office party, a couple is interrogated and insulted in a strange encounter with their landlord and his wife.

“Jerry and Molly and Sam”* - A man is driven to madness by the family dog and decides to dispose of it by dumping it on the outskirts of town. He soon has a change of heart.

“Why Honey?” - Letter from the mother of an apparently pathological liar who has become President of the United States. “I should be proud but I am afraid.”

“The Ducks” - At work, the foreman suddenly expires, so everyone is sent home. At home, one man fails to seize the opportunity to have sex with his wife.

“How About This?” - A couple comes to inspect her father’s deserted place in the country. Maybe they will relocate there.

“Bicycles, muscles, Cigarettes”* - A man quits smoking. He calls at the house of a friend of his son where a dispute is ongoing over a missing bike. He and the accused boy’s father engage in a fight.

“Are These Actual Miles?” - An unemployed man’s wife goes out to sell their car and doesn't return until dawn.

“Signals” - A couple in a flashy restaurant appears to be attempting to determine if they still have a future together. “I don’t mind admitting I’m just a lowbrow.”

“Will you please be quiet please?”* - The story of Ralph and Marian, two students who marry and become teachers. Ralph becomes fixated on the idea that Marian was unfaithful to him once in the past. Ralph gets drunk and feels his whole life transforming once he discovers the truth.

*used in Altman's movie Short Cuts