Raymond Carver
Raymond Carver
Anybody ever heard of a Pacific NW writer of short stories and poetry called Raymond Carver? He should probably be on the bus. Drinker, smoker, but he beat alcoholism, too, even if lung cancer caught up with him. I'm now doing my second paper on his story "Cathedral", in which the two main characters are drinking, smoking cigarettes and marijuana at the same time. I like him because he's down to earth, I guess. He doesn't try to be too fancy or put on airs. Anyway, for this paper I'm supposed to pretend I'm a literary critic. Ha HA! ME a literary critic! Jesus Christ, give me a break.
I had a writing professor in Paris who loved this guy.
I like him too. I really wish we had people like this helping us out getting published. I qould quite my job in a second to write more. I don't have the stomach for self promotion.
Many people know Raymond as the writer of the stories in a movie called Short Cuts. If you never saw that film or read the book I would highly suggest it.
I like him too. I really wish we had people like this helping us out getting published. I qould quite my job in a second to write more. I don't have the stomach for self promotion.
Many people know Raymond as the writer of the stories in a movie called Short Cuts. If you never saw that film or read the book I would highly suggest it.
I just picked up a paperback of Carver's collected short stories for just $5.00 plus tax. Gotta love used book stores.
I read the first one... and it was okay. The more I read other people's stories the more I think I may actually sell my own work some day.
The story was about a boy skipping school, jacking off, and then going fishing. It didn't seem to have any point at all.
I think this about a lot of short stories like Kakfa and Sedaris as well. Metamorphosis... a grand statement about the absurdity of the modern age and the hopelessness of office work? Or just a load of rubbish? You make the call.
Maybe I just don't get it!
I read the first one... and it was okay. The more I read other people's stories the more I think I may actually sell my own work some day.
The story was about a boy skipping school, jacking off, and then going fishing. It didn't seem to have any point at all.
I think this about a lot of short stories like Kakfa and Sedaris as well. Metamorphosis... a grand statement about the absurdity of the modern age and the hopelessness of office work? Or just a load of rubbish? You make the call.
Maybe I just don't get it!
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sara
I do think it's difficult to find a great writer of short stories. Sedaris has become my new favorite
This summer my brother told me I should read The Stanger by Albert Camus (which I mistakenly pronounced Came-us, ha, ha very funny) because I would really appreciate the existentialist point of view-- As I was sitting on my beach blanket staring at the cover with my what the fuck face on, my sister in law handed me Me Talk Pretty One Day -- it saved the summer reading. I will check out Raymond Carver if he's comparable.
This summer my brother told me I should read The Stanger by Albert Camus (which I mistakenly pronounced Came-us, ha, ha very funny) because I would really appreciate the existentialist point of view-- As I was sitting on my beach blanket staring at the cover with my what the fuck face on, my sister in law handed me Me Talk Pretty One Day -- it saved the summer reading. I will check out Raymond Carver if he's comparable.
My dad says The Stranger is his all time favorite book (he also likes Zen and the Art of Motorcylce Maintenance) and he pronouces it "kah-mus" but that's okay gotta give the non French speakers a break the shit is hard to pronounce.
I forget who Wrote Zen and the Art... I think it was Robert Pirsig. I used to read a lot... about a hundred books per year when I was in college. And then I turned 21 and started drinking and writing instead. Mostly drinking though.
I forget who Wrote Zen and the Art... I think it was Robert Pirsig. I used to read a lot... about a hundred books per year when I was in college. And then I turned 21 and started drinking and writing instead. Mostly drinking though.
Well, Sloth, I'm curious. How has being rejected for being too pornographic affected your writing approach if at all?
For me personally, the porno aspect tends to devalue the writing. Not yours specifically, but anybodys. I suppose there's an art to pornographic writing, and that's fine, but I'm not sure I'm the type of person to appreciate that art. If I'm going to sit down and read a story or whatever, I'm gonna want something that isn't just lowest common denominator sex. I'm looking for something to engage my intellect a bit more than that. Maybe gain some insight into a character or the way certain people live their lives. If I want sex, I'm more likely to pick up a porno mag. To me it's just a separate thing. At times I think both your and McC's writing might benefit from a little less of the porno aspect. But that's just my opinion.
Drinking and writing is an iffy affair. I read something funny about drinking and writing lately. Wish I'd thought to post it here before I forgot where the hell I read it. I suppose the practice has worked well for some, maybe not for others. To be honest, the only story I've read so far BY Raymond Carver is "Cathedral". He said it represented a big change in his writing, and it's a great story. Certainly people mention that his writing changed after he sobered up, as to be expected. When he wrote "Cathedral" he'd been sober for about 5 years, even if the characters are drinking.
To me, good fiction is first, totally believable, and secondly, SO believable that you can tell the author visualized it all down to every detail before putting it on paper. Thirdly, it isn't all style over substance, like E. Annie Proulx's "The Shipping News", which I was forced to read for my class and which I absolutely hated. The story itself was great, once she got around to it (about halfway through the book she realized a plot might be useful) but due to her writing style it was very irritating to read. All style - "hey look at me I'm hip, I write in incomplete sentences" - and no substance. It was so totally dry compared to Gloria Naylor's Mama Day, where at least you had living breathing characters to hold your interest.
There are people here who have read a lot more than I have, and probably take this stuff a lot more seriously than I do. No doubt I'll write a lot less about literature when I'm taking different classes. But there's my two cents, for whatever it's worth.
For me personally, the porno aspect tends to devalue the writing. Not yours specifically, but anybodys. I suppose there's an art to pornographic writing, and that's fine, but I'm not sure I'm the type of person to appreciate that art. If I'm going to sit down and read a story or whatever, I'm gonna want something that isn't just lowest common denominator sex. I'm looking for something to engage my intellect a bit more than that. Maybe gain some insight into a character or the way certain people live their lives. If I want sex, I'm more likely to pick up a porno mag. To me it's just a separate thing. At times I think both your and McC's writing might benefit from a little less of the porno aspect. But that's just my opinion.
Drinking and writing is an iffy affair. I read something funny about drinking and writing lately. Wish I'd thought to post it here before I forgot where the hell I read it. I suppose the practice has worked well for some, maybe not for others. To be honest, the only story I've read so far BY Raymond Carver is "Cathedral". He said it represented a big change in his writing, and it's a great story. Certainly people mention that his writing changed after he sobered up, as to be expected. When he wrote "Cathedral" he'd been sober for about 5 years, even if the characters are drinking.
To me, good fiction is first, totally believable, and secondly, SO believable that you can tell the author visualized it all down to every detail before putting it on paper. Thirdly, it isn't all style over substance, like E. Annie Proulx's "The Shipping News", which I was forced to read for my class and which I absolutely hated. The story itself was great, once she got around to it (about halfway through the book she realized a plot might be useful) but due to her writing style it was very irritating to read. All style - "hey look at me I'm hip, I write in incomplete sentences" - and no substance. It was so totally dry compared to Gloria Naylor's Mama Day, where at least you had living breathing characters to hold your interest.
There are people here who have read a lot more than I have, and probably take this stuff a lot more seriously than I do. No doubt I'll write a lot less about literature when I'm taking different classes. But there's my two cents, for whatever it's worth.
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sara
I agree with you Mark, about style. Although I admire really creative works, if the author doesn't give me some story, somewhere I'll give up. In college, I was forced to read things that I thought were horrible. I ended up screwing myself and took an entire class devoted to John Milton. I thought it would be better than having to speak like Chaucer, stupid -- Paradise Lost is fine, but we had to read his school assignments-- they are anthologized, why?
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Tommy Martyn
- Mile High Club
- Posts: 887
- Joined: Mon May 19, 2003 8:01 am
- Location: a desk
What a marvellous subject for discussion. One better suited to a warm corner of a not too noisy pub on a dark rainy afternoon than a bulletin board.
Mark and Sarah I have recommendations for the pair of you. Both are cheap and easily available second hand. AND, almost spookily, they are by the same person.
I saw John Updike get interviewed once and in discussing his approach and output he said that, before him and others like him, when approaching the human condition writers (Think Henry James, perhaps) had taken us, "up to the bedroom door and stopped." It was fairly obvious that as people a lot of what makes us tick centres around what goes on in there. So, in he went. Now, Mark, I know that you are almost certainly making a distinction between sex in novels and novels about sex, so I offer you to read VOX by Nicholson Baker. The whole of the book is the trancript of one dirty telephone call between a man and a woman. It is an amazing piece of writing. I won't say anymore than that. I hope you get the time and opportunity to read it.
Sarah, for a highly stylized, non traditional narrative I urge you to read Mezzanine by Nicholson Baker. It is a short read and is the story of one man's lunchbreak. In which little or nothing happens, except in his head. It is a triumph of style but not at the expense of substance.
Mark and Sarah I have recommendations for the pair of you. Both are cheap and easily available second hand. AND, almost spookily, they are by the same person.
I saw John Updike get interviewed once and in discussing his approach and output he said that, before him and others like him, when approaching the human condition writers (Think Henry James, perhaps) had taken us, "up to the bedroom door and stopped." It was fairly obvious that as people a lot of what makes us tick centres around what goes on in there. So, in he went. Now, Mark, I know that you are almost certainly making a distinction between sex in novels and novels about sex, so I offer you to read VOX by Nicholson Baker. The whole of the book is the trancript of one dirty telephone call between a man and a woman. It is an amazing piece of writing. I won't say anymore than that. I hope you get the time and opportunity to read it.
Sarah, for a highly stylized, non traditional narrative I urge you to read Mezzanine by Nicholson Baker. It is a short read and is the story of one man's lunchbreak. In which little or nothing happens, except in his head. It is a triumph of style but not at the expense of substance.
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Jack Chiefton
- Old Skool Pax
- Posts: 286
- Joined: Mon Nov 13, 2000 9:01 am
- Location: Madison, WI
Also
As you recalled Tommy, Writers lead you up to the bedroom door only to halt. That makes me think of the writers who dont, like Saddat Manto, a writer from India who was criticized in his time for being pornographic, but is now hailed as the genius of Asian and Urdu literature. His short story "Odor" captures his delight for mountain hookers as he marvels over their natural smell, while he duly notes his disdain for sour henna perfume emanating from the petite, Oxford educated broads.
I must admit that when I read pornographic novels I skip over the narrative and get right to the juicy bit. Then I have a wank and don't come back to the book until I need more wanking material.
I don't think Pax Acidus is wanking material at all. I mean, try to wank off to this:
"
I turn toward her. Want to be inside her. Gonna give her a good one. She pushes me in the opposite direction. On my stomach. Starts kissing my back. Grabbing little mouthfuls of flesh as she works her way down my spine. Her hands go to my ass.
I feel the cocaine and codeine cruise through my veins. The pleasure caresses everything. Chemical gratification so intense I feel like I am losing control of all functions.
The girl spreads my butt cheeks apart. Her saliva wetting the crevice. She buries her tongue deep into my rectum. Hits the fabled male G-spot. God fucking damn it. My eyeballs roll upward under closed lids."
- From McCutcheon's Sunday Morning
I don't think Pax Acidus is wanking material at all. I mean, try to wank off to this:
"
I turn toward her. Want to be inside her. Gonna give her a good one. She pushes me in the opposite direction. On my stomach. Starts kissing my back. Grabbing little mouthfuls of flesh as she works her way down my spine. Her hands go to my ass.
I feel the cocaine and codeine cruise through my veins. The pleasure caresses everything. Chemical gratification so intense I feel like I am losing control of all functions.
The girl spreads my butt cheeks apart. Her saliva wetting the crevice. She buries her tongue deep into my rectum. Hits the fabled male G-spot. God fucking damn it. My eyeballs roll upward under closed lids."
- From McCutcheon's Sunday Morning
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mccutcheon
- New York Scribbler
- Posts: 4996
- Joined: Tue Oct 03, 2000 8:01 am
- Location: NYC
- Contact:
I don't see that as porno. But I think I'm the only one. Maybe I do write too much behind the bedroom door, but I like it there. Tommy's wife wouldn't read my novel Burnt because she thought it was too dity. I think it was a nice way of her telling me it was shit. I do wonder if I have an audience. I've never written a sentence, good or bad, in order to make money, or please an unknown reader. I probably have written a few for ideal readers (people I know and hope will enjoy it.) But really, for me it's just the way the prose comes out. Maybe I'll try to be a little more refined....or maybe not. Here's a bit from my short story Speed Trap. No one ever reads this one. I don't even know what person or tense its written in. Julia said it was her favorite though, so I've always kind of liked it...
You go home from this bad, bad day making sure you drive the speed limit and you stop off to get a bouquet of flowers. It is time for some loving. When you get to your nice house in the quiet suburb you find your best friend Mark's car parked in your spot. You hope that Mark doesn't want to stay too long. Tonight you feel like being alone with Sally. It is your anniversary after all. You won't even tell her about work until tomorrow. You don't want to spoil the evening.
When you walk inside you hear distinct noises. You don't want to believe what you hear but deep inside you know that the grunting, groaning, and bare flesh slapping against bare flesh to be nothing less than the sounds of carnal knowledge applied at high volume. When you turn the corner you get a visual confirmation of your worst fears. It takes a few seconds for the facts of the situation to fully register but when they do finally come into clear focus you feel completely wrecked. Who can blame you? You have just come home from a bad day at work only to find your best friend fucking your wife and drinking the expensive wine.
Mark is pumping away and dear Sally has the look of ecstasy on her face, kinda like a chipmunk sucking on its teeth. She has beads of sweat on her brow despite the cool blowing air conditioning and her tits are jumping all over the place like Mexican jumping beans as she moves up and down on Mark's stiff member.
Even if this wasn't your wife and best friend the picture holds nothing in the way of exotic pleasure. Both Sally and Mark are about thirty pounds over weight. Sally has gathered her cellulite all around her ass after gallons of fat free ice cream sundaes and Mark has developed his beer belly after copious amounts of light beer from Miller. This isn't really a judgment against them, you yourself don't look so good naked in front of a mirror. All three of you have had a great time eating and drinking together but you sure don't have an appetite right now. Never in a million years did you think today would turn out to be this bad.
If this happens to you, if you walk into your house to catch your wife fucking your best friend chances are things aren't going to get better anytime soon. The bad day is not going to end. You can pretty much bet your life savings life won't be the same again for awhile, at least not for a long time.
Maybe a slap in the face was needed to force a change in you. Had you become too comfortable with your lot in life? Lord knows you made sacrifices but wasn't growing old together and not having to worry about silly flirtations and painful infidelity the reason you took your vows? Wasn't that the goal you both set out for, to try and reach something resembling marital bliss? Wasn't it the reason you waited at the end of the isle five years ago?
Maybe you are the cause of this, maybe not. You thought you did enough. Maybe life is shit and you are getting a class A lesson tonight. Whether the change was needed or not it never feels good. It pretty much feels worse than anything else in the world. You don't even have anybody to call since the only people you talk to are rubbing each other raw and are the cause of all this friction in the first place.
When this happens, your best friend and wife fucking each other, and it does happen more readily then we all care to admit, but maybe just not so much on wedding anniversaries, but we don't always hear about it because those who it does happen to don't like to talk about it for obvious reasons, who can blame them, anyway if you do find yourself in this situation there is not much you can do. You can throw up, cry like a baby, scream a full scale of obscenities or threaten violence, but in the end they are all extremely embarrassing and somewhat out of character.
You go home from this bad, bad day making sure you drive the speed limit and you stop off to get a bouquet of flowers. It is time for some loving. When you get to your nice house in the quiet suburb you find your best friend Mark's car parked in your spot. You hope that Mark doesn't want to stay too long. Tonight you feel like being alone with Sally. It is your anniversary after all. You won't even tell her about work until tomorrow. You don't want to spoil the evening.
When you walk inside you hear distinct noises. You don't want to believe what you hear but deep inside you know that the grunting, groaning, and bare flesh slapping against bare flesh to be nothing less than the sounds of carnal knowledge applied at high volume. When you turn the corner you get a visual confirmation of your worst fears. It takes a few seconds for the facts of the situation to fully register but when they do finally come into clear focus you feel completely wrecked. Who can blame you? You have just come home from a bad day at work only to find your best friend fucking your wife and drinking the expensive wine.
Mark is pumping away and dear Sally has the look of ecstasy on her face, kinda like a chipmunk sucking on its teeth. She has beads of sweat on her brow despite the cool blowing air conditioning and her tits are jumping all over the place like Mexican jumping beans as she moves up and down on Mark's stiff member.
Even if this wasn't your wife and best friend the picture holds nothing in the way of exotic pleasure. Both Sally and Mark are about thirty pounds over weight. Sally has gathered her cellulite all around her ass after gallons of fat free ice cream sundaes and Mark has developed his beer belly after copious amounts of light beer from Miller. This isn't really a judgment against them, you yourself don't look so good naked in front of a mirror. All three of you have had a great time eating and drinking together but you sure don't have an appetite right now. Never in a million years did you think today would turn out to be this bad.
If this happens to you, if you walk into your house to catch your wife fucking your best friend chances are things aren't going to get better anytime soon. The bad day is not going to end. You can pretty much bet your life savings life won't be the same again for awhile, at least not for a long time.
Maybe a slap in the face was needed to force a change in you. Had you become too comfortable with your lot in life? Lord knows you made sacrifices but wasn't growing old together and not having to worry about silly flirtations and painful infidelity the reason you took your vows? Wasn't that the goal you both set out for, to try and reach something resembling marital bliss? Wasn't it the reason you waited at the end of the isle five years ago?
Maybe you are the cause of this, maybe not. You thought you did enough. Maybe life is shit and you are getting a class A lesson tonight. Whether the change was needed or not it never feels good. It pretty much feels worse than anything else in the world. You don't even have anybody to call since the only people you talk to are rubbing each other raw and are the cause of all this friction in the first place.
When this happens, your best friend and wife fucking each other, and it does happen more readily then we all care to admit, but maybe just not so much on wedding anniversaries, but we don't always hear about it because those who it does happen to don't like to talk about it for obvious reasons, who can blame them, anyway if you do find yourself in this situation there is not much you can do. You can throw up, cry like a baby, scream a full scale of obscenities or threaten violence, but in the end they are all extremely embarrassing and somewhat out of character.