No one captures the imperfections of suburban, white collar, white bread America like Cheever does. No one. Well, especially in the North. If O'Connor is the Queen of South Suburbia, Cheever is the King of North Suburbia.

"The Swimmer," of course, is his pièce de résistance in this collection, and with good reason. I've been in love with unreliable narrators since reading it. The story takes the reader on a strange and unexpected journey, filled with hidden meanings and a sense of mystery.

"The Five-Forty-Eight" is another favorite of mine. It explores the complex relationship between a man and a woman,揭示了人性的弱点和欲望. And "The Geometry of Love" is also a great story. I loved it so much that it's where my AIM screen name comes from.

Again, this is another collection I read when I was younger, so a lot of it skipped over me. But there was still lots for me to appreciate. The writing is beautiful and the stories are thought-provoking. I look forward to getting back into it, especially now that I've shed my suburban skin and can view these stories from a different perspective.

John Cheever has been dubbed "the Chekhov of the suburbs," yet I don't fully concur. His stories can be harsh and unappealing, depicting characters as at best pathetic and at worst offensive. In contrast, Chekhov is gentle and respectful. I still have a certain fondness for Cheever, though. "The Swimmer" is perhaps the second-best short story I've ever read, with only William Faulkner's "Mountain Victory" captivating me more. Its surrealism, hidden subtexts, literary depth, and chilling, desolate conclusion make it a masterpiece.

On 9/26/2018, while pedaling my exercise bike, I delved deeper into Cheever's stories in this collection. After setting down the book, I actually wrote in my diary: "until I grew bored and annoyed at his endless belittling of suburban and urban people." That's precisely what he does in his more unremarkable tales, not the memorable ones like "The Swimmer" and "The Enormous Radio." It's an endless parade of how dreary the lives of midcentury people in places like Manhattan and its suburbs are supposed to be, or their ugly moral failings, or their foolish illusions, or both. It's arguable that Cheever can be called a Naturalist writer, yet never associated with the classic Naturalists, perhaps because the gentility of his characters and setting masks their inherent bleakness and despair.

The muck he leads us through doesn't deeply disturb me simply because it doesn't speak to me. This is due to three aspects of my background: I'm Christian, I was born at least thirty years after these stories are set (always the 1940s - 1960s), and I live in Arizona, having been born and raised there, while all of Cheever's stories are set in east coast suburban and urban neighborhoods. Because of these factors, the stories that aim to make mid-century east coast lives look bad don't depress me - they just annoy me if I read too many at once.

I have no clue why I keep returning to an inherently contemptuous writer like John Cheever, except that his writing style is comfortable, and even the content is in a certain way congenial to me. In fact, I even take notes on most of the stories, writing relatively brief comments on each after reading. Only occasionally does one leave me with nothing to say, and even that may be as much because I was too tired to think as because the story left me disinterested. It embarrasses me a bit that Cheever interests me that much, but yes - he apparently does. (Even these review comments themselves may suggest that.)

Despite the ugliness (tempered by polite diction) of the stories, they're tranquil to me (if strictly in the sense of quietness) because they're tales of a place I've never been and can't go to because it no longer exists. In short, I think I find it comfortable simply because it's the distant past. Comfortable if consumed in small doses. This might illustrate the point: after putting down the Cheever collection, what did I next feel compelled to pick up? What book?...My Bible. I didn't do it deliberately - it was just what I needed for some reason.

On 12/13/2020, this is probably the only book I've ever written three reviews for, so you can see how much Cheever intrigued me. Not interests - interested. Even fascinated, at one time. He interested me for the same reason a train wreck would. I reopened my copy of this collection a few days ago and found Cheever's endless vignettes of the miserable, drink-soaked lives of mid-century East Coast urbanites merely tiresome. One keeps sifting through the muck hoping to find a story as interesting as "The Swimmer" (my favorite short story - again, with the possible exception of Faulkner's "Mountain Victory"), "The Enormous Radio," or even "Goodbye, My Brother"; but there are few such gems.

"The Swimmer" held me spellbound when I read it in 2006 as my introduction to John Cheever, but the eager interest in him that it sparked in me for over a decade has waned. I'll continue to flip through this collection, but will increasingly be skimming the stories rather than reading them thoroughly, and then I would consider removing the book from my library.

I really enjoyed this collection of modern American short stories.

At the moment, it seems that this genre is right up my alley. There is a huge collection of stories here, and I've been engrossed in it for weeks.

I initially thought I could put it down and come back to it later, but I just couldn't resist. I was eager to dive into the next story.

There are some outstanding stories in this collection, such as 'The Swimmer', 'O Youth Oh Beauty', and my absolute favorite, 'The Country Husband'.

The majority of my favorite stories deal with American suburbia and the disjunction between desire and the craving for life and the 50's reality of social convention.

The introduction by Hanif Kureishi is also well worth reading. It sets the tone and tempo for his sketches and serves as a nice reminder that Cheever's world was pre-liberation, pre-realization, and self-determination, which the 60's brought.

This collection makes me want to lie by the pool, sipping 'old fashioneds' with the neighbors (the man I hate, the woman I want to be with). It's pure brilliance, and I'll definitely go read Cheever's journals soon.

Dear Mr. Cheever,

While it may seem rather unfair of me to place your book on my "read" shelf when in reality I only managed to read about 400 out of the 693 pages, I have come to the conclusion that the time has arrived for us to part ways.

You are simply not the author for me, Mr. Cheever, despite my efforts. You never truly tear open the hearts of your characters, which leaves me feeling irritable and only half-satisfied. I find myself constantly waiting to turn the page in anticipation of something momentous, something that will cause my little spirit to soar or plummet with dreadful, unstoppable motion.

At best, Mr. Cheever, you have caused my spirit to rustle slightly in its nest, but that is simply not enough for me. I bid you a good day, sir.

I have been continuously reading and rereading The Stories of John Cheever ever since the anthology was published nearly 40 years ago. I have never tired of enjoying these stories, as I find them to be a remarkable balance of acute perception and considerable narrative skill. However, much of the description of Cheever's work on this site seems extremely limiting.

Yes, he was indeed called the "Bard of Ossining" and detailed numerous vignettes of life in suburban New York. His writing is also full of references to people who employ maids, gardeners, nurses, and cooks, as well as women who stay home to "keep house." In that sense, Cheever's work is most definitely about a different time and place. Nevertheless, the differences are more apparent than they are significant.

John Cheever's characters almost always convey a sense of dislocation and alienation, a quality that is timeless and not particularly regional. Beyond that, while some may view Cheever's characters as tiresome WASPs, his stories are largely satirical and most certainly do not represent an endorsement of the author's observations.

When John Cheever was expelled from Thayer Academy, he described a sensation of "being almost outside of himself," a feeling he captured in one of his first stories and one that prevails in most of his fiction. And although Cheever has been labeled the "Chekhov of the Suburbs," many of his early stories are set in Manhattan, and he composed others, which rank among his best, that are situated in Italy.

The comparison with Chekhov is perhaps not inappropriate. Cheever's "The Country Husband" is quite reminiscent of Chekhov's story about a man whose son has died but who is unable to find compassion from anyone in his village, eventually sharing his grief with his horse. In Cheever's story, a man named Francis Weed survives a plane crash but upon reaching his home, finds the members of his family otherwise engaged with their own concerns when he attempts to describe his near-death experience while returning from a business trip.

In "The Scarlet Moving Van," excessive alcohol leads to the downfall of two men, including the man who tried to assist his neighbor in dealing with the addiction. The situations within the Cheever stories are not always particularly original, but as with any talented writer, the author describes his characters in a manner that is often masterful and sometimes even eloquent.

Cheever's "The Brigadier & the Golf Widow" speaks of a woman "whose marriage was bewilderingly threadbare" and suggests that "the sum of her manner was one of bereavement."

"The Geometry of Love" represents an inventive tale of a man who uses Euclidean geometry to reconcile his life. The study of Euclid put him in a compassionate and tranquil frame of mind. He felt that he had corrected the distance between his reality and those realities that pounded at his spirit. He might not, had he possessed any philosophy or religion, have needed geometry, but the religious observances in his neighborhood seemed to him boring and threadbare, and he had no inclination for philosophy.

Geometry served him beautifully for the metaphysics of understood pain. He was not a victor but he was wonderfully safe from being victimized. He was able to carry the conviction of innocence, with which he woke each morning, well into the day. He thought about writing a book about his discovery: Euclidean Emotion: The Geometry of Sentiment. Later, considering the absence of love in his marriage and facing a serious ailment, the man, in making reference to his wife, "had no way of anticipating the poverty of her gifts as a nurse." And yet, within Cheever's tales, there are also those who display "the raw grace of human nature," a phrase taken from his story "The Golden Age."

In my opinion, "The Swimmer" is among the best short stories I have ever come across. It is an allegorical tale, originally intended to be a novel but reduced to 10 pages, in which Neddy Merrill fashions a series of swimming pools into a spatially disconnected but metaphorically unified river that parallels his life, spiraling downward to the endpoint of his aqueous journey, only to find his home abandoned. Translated to film, this story was skillfully distilled by Frank and Ellen Perry into a movie starring Burt Lancaster that beautifully captures the spirit of the Cheever story.

There are some distractions in reading Cheever's stories, and among them is an over-reliance on words such as sumptuary, anneal, and venereal, with the last word used multiple times in "The World of Apples." His tales are almost always male-centered. A few stories seem incomplete and lack any kind of resolution. Despite these shortcomings, John Cheever provided a distinctly original account of his subset of humanity and one that, like Chekhov, seems to carry an almost universal validity.

*Within my review are 3 images of author John Cheever + one of Burt Lancaster as the alienated swimmer traveling through a network of suburban pools in search of his identity in one of the author's best stories.

My copy of this book is unfortunately water-damaged.

It has become a bit of a mess, and I really need to get a new copy.

You see, I absolutely love love love this book.

The story is filled with all those men in suits, looking so sophisticated and mysterious.

There are also all those delicious cocktails being served, adding a touch of glamour to the scenes.

But what really draws me in are all those secrets that are waiting to be uncovered.

And of course, there is a fair share of disappointment along the way, which makes the story even more engaging.

I can't wait to get my hands on a new copy and immerse myself in this wonderful world all over again.

I believe that these stories by Cheever form one of the best anthologies I have ever read.

The stories of Cheever do not overly resemble the preconceived idea that one usually has of a tale. They are not usually based on singular ideas or plots, they hardly contain final twists nor do they abound in them, in my opinion, the typical epiphanies that are usually attributed to them and to which Carver, his natural heir, was so assiduous. I had previously read two novels by Cheever, the very notable Bullet Park and the weak This Is Not Heaven, and I was not at all expecting the impact that I have received with these stories. The themes that Cheever addresses, as well as the context in which he places most of them, are well known, but although those are the identifying marks that distinguish him from his contemporaries, they are not the reasons that place him, in my judgment, and after the orgiastic reading of this volume, above most of them. What makes him, of course, is that Cheever, in these stories, shows a mastery as a writer within the reach of very few. It is enough to read any page of this anthology at random to find a description of surgical precision, a memorable image, a paragraph of pure muscle; literary magic, in short. I would finish a story and, amazed, start the next one, and I assimilated them all not as independent entities, but as chapters of the same great work. Obviously, not all of them have the same quality, there are ten or twelve of them that are majestic, perhaps as many others are a bit weak, and the remaining forty are simply outstanding in that humble and silent way in which Cheever constructed his counterintuitive plots with abrupt endings. I could fill many lines commenting on the wonders of Cheever's prose, but I will only mention the most remarkable of all, the one most responsible for the greatness that I perceive in it: the dynamism, the narrative fiber, the amazing ability to make the right description, the measured and perfect sentence, the kilometer-long paragraphs, but light as clouds, of clean and classic prose where each sentence leads naturally to the next. In that Cheever is a master of masters, and reading him during this last month has been an immense pleasure that I will return to very soon.

I continue to be amazed by the profound insights and captivating beauty of these stories.

Behind the cruel acts that his characters inflict on one another, there lies a genuine longing and a powerful desire to connect and to feel a sense of belonging.

Even the despicable husband lying in the gravel at the end of the story "The Five-Forty-Eight" evokes pity and is worthy of compassion. Why? Because he endures suffering, he experiences loneliness, and above all, he is human.

He is an active participant in his own story, not merely a passive victim, which makes him far more intriguing.

From "The Season of Divorce", one of my favorite passages:
"Why do I cry? Why do I cry?" she asked impatiently. "I cry because I saw an old woman cuffing a little boy on 3rd Avenue. She was drunk. I can't get it out of my mind." She pulled the quilt from the foot of the bed and wandered with it toward the door. "I cry because my mother married a man I detested or thought I detested. I cry because I had to wear an ugly dress--a hand-me-down dress--to a party 20 years ago, and I didn't have a good time. I cry because I am tired and I cannot sleep." I heard her arrange herself on the sofa and then everything was quiet.
What a deeply profound and meaningful moment it is, to have delved so deeply into this character, understanding her losses, her desires, her childishness, and her suffering.

We have all experienced these overwhelming moments of inexplicable sorrow. It is a remarkable achievement for Cheever and something that I strive for in my own writing.

This is the largest collection of short stories that I have ever come across. It is a thematic work that delves into life in the United States and the experiences of ex-pats in Italy.

Normally, I take pleasure in a volume containing 10 - 20 stories. However, this particular collection has around 100 different stories (or at least that's how it seems), and it just goes on and on and on. Each story is a slight variation on a theme, much like a compendium of fan fiction set in an alternate universe, but in this case, the universe is real life in the Northeastern US (and certain parts of Italy). It repeatedly beats the dead horse, yet it does so in a beautiful way.

I would rate some sections of this book four stars, but when considering the entire work, I can only give it three stars.

Ottantotto

There was a remarkable writer named Cheever.

He wasn't an extreme over-achiever, but his works were truly captivating.

Most of his stories revolved around faithless men who were married to crisis situations.

Oh, if you read his works, you will surely become a believer in his literary talent.

Cheever had a unique way of描绘 human nature and the complex relationships within society.

His stories could make you laugh, cry, and think deeply about the world we live in.

Whether you are a fan of literature or just looking for a good read, Cheever's works are definitely worth checking out.

A sinistra... / A destra...


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The 1979 winner of the Pulitzer Prize for fiction is a remarkable collection. It contains 61 short stories penned by John Cheever throughout his extensive writing career. The majority of these stories are masterfully crafted.

Across the nearly 700 pages, several prominent themes emerge. Firstly, drinking leads to numerous problems, yet men often find it difficult to refrain from it. Secondly, marital unfaithfulness unsurprisingly stems from a lack of communication. Thirdly, Cheever frequently uses Italy as the setting for his foreign stories. Finally, people have a longing for authentic connections with others.

When delving into so many short stories, it's easy to lose some momentum. And when a story concludes, one might be tempted to stop reading. However, this collection has some truly outstanding tales. Some of the best include "The Superintendent," "The Day the Pig Fell Into the Well," "The Housebreaker of Shady Hill," "The Duchess," "The Angel of the Bridge," "The Ocean," and "The Swimmer."

On the other hand, "O City of Broken Dreams" was the least impressive story in the collection, as its portrayal of midwesterners was rather stereotypical. This is the 38th Pulitzer winner that I have completed, and I would rank it #12 among those I've finished thus far.

The reason why I have pounded my temples with these +800 pages is that I am a victim of the absurd logic according to which, to be an expert of a genre, a literary form, or a type of literature, you have to syrup yourself with texts written years ago, now detached, in terms of themes rather than style, from contemporary taste. The stories of John Cheever are not stories, but rather summaries – impregnated with malevolent gaze and populated by anonymous characters.

This kind of thinking seems to overlook the fact that literature is a living and evolving entity. Just because a work was written in the past doesn't mean it can't still have relevance and value today. We should be able to appreciate the unique qualities of each piece of literature, regardless of when it was created.

Maybe instead of dismissing older texts as outdated, we should try to understand the historical and cultural context in which they were written. This could give us a deeper appreciation for the artistry and craftsmanship that went into creating them. After all, literature has the power to connect us across time and space, and we shouldn't limit ourselves to only what is trendy or popular in the present moment.