Where I’m Calling From by Raymond Carver
I loved this book.
I should probably end my post right now as to avoid embarrassing myself with how much fawning I may (will) do about Where I’m Calling From. I read this book knowing I would like it - I’ve read a few Carver stories in my years. I didn’t know that I would love this book, that I will probably read this book, and other Carver collections, over and over and over again. There is so much to learn. Why didn’t I have to read Carver in college or graduate school? Because I should have known better. Any literature or writing student, especially one with a focus on short stories, worth anything would have already had a deep knowledge and understanding of Carver’s stories. Right? I should have been rewriting his stories like a young Joan Didion copying Hemingway to understand the sentences, rhythm, and trajectory of a master storyteller. I couldn’t tell you now what I was doing instead.
After I finished each story, I wanted desperately to articulate what I loved about each story. And I loved every one. I really can’t say there were any stories that I didn’t like. Yes, there were some stories that seemed similar (and I’m still fawning so I won’t say overplayed) but each character was an individual and true to its own story. My attempts to articulate what made each story good, even to myself, failed. Even now, a week or so after I finished, I am having trouble truly understanding why Carver’s writing is pure and genius.
I do, however, know why I liked it. There was nothing extra in the writing, nothing poetic, just simple storytelling. Each story was intense, the characters often on an emotional precipice yet saying, “What could I say?” The bare, no-nonsense style gives it a masculinity that I’m always attracted to.
It’s funny. I don’t write like this. I will never write like this. I don’t even want to. And yet, I feel compelled to study it. I found myself catching my breath every few pages. So, of course, I wanted to know: Could I ever do that? Could I ever make a reader catch his breath? Fortunately, I let myself go and just read the goddamned thing and enjoy it. I made no notes in the margins or underlines in the paragraphs. There will be another time for me to study it. I just read. And now I want to write.
