Monday, 7 March 2011
Friday, 4 March 2011
Desert Island Story - a task.
To me, the idea of a ‘desert island’ anything is absurd. Mulling over one piece of music, or a whole album’s worth, or a short story, or a single thought, in utter solemnity could be a sign of the onset of psychosis – if not paranoia or obsession. However, I do much admire the work of Raymond Carver. One story I like in particular is Neighbours – it’s from his first collection, Will You Please Be Quiet, Please? (1976).
It is a very sensitive story, showing the nuances existing within a couple’s relationship. In the story, a couple – Bill and Arlene Miller – are left in charge of their neighbour’s apartment – they envy them their frequent travelling. It is not clear from the story how old they are; Raymond Carver wrote most of the stories in the collection in his twenties, but I get the impression the couple are middle-aged – they live in a flat, their neighbours have a cat; moreover, they both have quite dull jobs: Bill is a salesman, and Arlene does secretarial work. They are both lonely and overworked. This condition is set up in the first paragraph:
“Bill and Arlene Miller were a happy couple. But now and then they felt they among their circle had been passed by somehow, leaving Bill to attend to his book-keeping duties and Arlene occupied with secretarial chores. They talked about it sometimes, mostly in comparison with the lives of their Neighbours, Harriet and Jim Stone. It seemed to the Millers that the Stones lived a fuller and brighter life. The Stones were always going out for dinner, or entertaining at home, or travelling about the country somewhere in connection with Jim’s Work.”
They do, however, have a very sexual appetite – they make love perhaps three or four times over the course of the story (‘kinky’ might be a better description of their proclivities).
The day after the Stones leave, Bill goes ‘round their flat to feed kitty. He ends up rifling around, eating random bits of food and stealing a half pack of cigarettes. Arlene disturbs him as he starts to look in their closet, telling him he’s been ‘round their over an hour. Something is at play here: envy at the Stones’ situation, a deep boredom, some sort of dissatisfaction, vicarious sexual appetite. However, it seems the likeliest option is that the story is exploring the minutiae of intrigue and curiosity; what really happens when our dwellings are left at the disposal of trusted friends?
The next day, Bill returns, this time putting kitty in the bathroom so as not to be bothered
by her; he slips into some of Jim’s clothing and pours himself a drink. He is a fantasist. He also finds it difficult to guess when they’re going to be back – he at times can’t even place Jim’s face. He sits in front of the bedroom mirror, then he puts on some of Harriet’s underwear and clothing – but not the shoes (a scene not too dissimilar from Woody Allen’s Everything You Always Wanted to Know About Sex (But Were Too Afraid to Ask)).
The story ends with Bill and Arlene embracing each other in fear: Arlene had gone inside to feed kitty and water the plants and left the key inside. Before this culmination, we are privy to the essence of the story: Bill and Arlene are bored, and this temporary escapism has allowed them to indulge in sexual twilight zones – not quite taboo, but blurry and exciting. There seems to be something under the surface, though, and I’m not sure I can place it. Either way, the quiet care and eroticism is both exciting and tender; they are like eager adolescents – fearful and feckless. I was drawn into the story, and felt some deep emotional attachment that I couldn’t place – something tingling, something tugging.
Why do I like Carver?
He can take everyday situations and make them brilliant;
He ends stories with either something heartfelt, unsettling or beautifully ambiguous;
He has an interesting style – the use of third person reportage and frequent non-use of speech marks;
He writes simply and powerfully, with economy – and yet felicity;
His characters are brilliantly full and three-dimensional;
He makes his characters immortal and upright – they are dignified and whole, and independent.
It is a very sensitive story, showing the nuances existing within a couple’s relationship. In the story, a couple – Bill and Arlene Miller – are left in charge of their neighbour’s apartment – they envy them their frequent travelling. It is not clear from the story how old they are; Raymond Carver wrote most of the stories in the collection in his twenties, but I get the impression the couple are middle-aged – they live in a flat, their neighbours have a cat; moreover, they both have quite dull jobs: Bill is a salesman, and Arlene does secretarial work. They are both lonely and overworked. This condition is set up in the first paragraph:
“Bill and Arlene Miller were a happy couple. But now and then they felt they among their circle had been passed by somehow, leaving Bill to attend to his book-keeping duties and Arlene occupied with secretarial chores. They talked about it sometimes, mostly in comparison with the lives of their Neighbours, Harriet and Jim Stone. It seemed to the Millers that the Stones lived a fuller and brighter life. The Stones were always going out for dinner, or entertaining at home, or travelling about the country somewhere in connection with Jim’s Work.”
They do, however, have a very sexual appetite – they make love perhaps three or four times over the course of the story (‘kinky’ might be a better description of their proclivities).
The day after the Stones leave, Bill goes ‘round their flat to feed kitty. He ends up rifling around, eating random bits of food and stealing a half pack of cigarettes. Arlene disturbs him as he starts to look in their closet, telling him he’s been ‘round their over an hour. Something is at play here: envy at the Stones’ situation, a deep boredom, some sort of dissatisfaction, vicarious sexual appetite. However, it seems the likeliest option is that the story is exploring the minutiae of intrigue and curiosity; what really happens when our dwellings are left at the disposal of trusted friends?
The next day, Bill returns, this time putting kitty in the bathroom so as not to be bothered
by her; he slips into some of Jim’s clothing and pours himself a drink. He is a fantasist. He also finds it difficult to guess when they’re going to be back – he at times can’t even place Jim’s face. He sits in front of the bedroom mirror, then he puts on some of Harriet’s underwear and clothing – but not the shoes (a scene not too dissimilar from Woody Allen’s Everything You Always Wanted to Know About Sex (But Were Too Afraid to Ask)).
The story ends with Bill and Arlene embracing each other in fear: Arlene had gone inside to feed kitty and water the plants and left the key inside. Before this culmination, we are privy to the essence of the story: Bill and Arlene are bored, and this temporary escapism has allowed them to indulge in sexual twilight zones – not quite taboo, but blurry and exciting. There seems to be something under the surface, though, and I’m not sure I can place it. Either way, the quiet care and eroticism is both exciting and tender; they are like eager adolescents – fearful and feckless. I was drawn into the story, and felt some deep emotional attachment that I couldn’t place – something tingling, something tugging.
Why do I like Carver?
He can take everyday situations and make them brilliant;
He ends stories with either something heartfelt, unsettling or beautifully ambiguous;
He has an interesting style – the use of third person reportage and frequent non-use of speech marks;
He writes simply and powerfully, with economy – and yet felicity;
His characters are brilliantly full and three-dimensional;
He makes his characters immortal and upright – they are dignified and whole, and independent.
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