Where I'm Calling From

Since this Raymond Carver story will be discussed in one of my classes soon, I wanted to point out some of my favorite parts. It's an endearing story, tragi-comic, the best kind.

The narrator is trying to get some respite from his complicated life, sober up some at Frank Martin's clinic. He hangs out with fellow alcoholics, hears stories, makes observations, and finally begins dealing with his own "situation."

Early on, there's a "big fat guy" dubbed Tiny who has a spell at one point, and the narrator laconically notes: "We'd all done things just as bad and crazy, so, sure, that's why we laughed."

Later the narrator hears J.P.'s life story, how he fell in love with Roxy the chimney sweeper. How he went gaga over her, in fact. "It was something out of his hands. Nothing else in the world counted for anything. He knew he'd met somebody who could set his legs atremble. He could fell her kiss still burning on his lips, etc." How can a reader not love the "etc."?

J.P. later became an alcoholic. One of the best Carver lines ever is embedded in the middle of this sentence: "But for some reason -- who knows why we do what we do? -- his drinking picks up."

J.P. goes on the describe his deteriorating relationship with Roxy, who tells her father and brother, ardent enemies of J.P., "it was her problem. She got herself into it, and she'd solve it." In fact, she soon found a boyfriend, which befuddles J.P. even as he relates the story: after all, by then they had a house and kids and were married, how could she find the time or energy to do such a thing? The narrator's response: "I look at him and I'm surprised. He's a grown man. 'If you want to do that,' I say, 'you find the time. You make the time.'"

Next, the story drops back in time to the narrator's arrival, when his girlfriend leaves him off at the drying out clinic: "It's late afternoon. It's raining. I go from the door to the window. I move the curtain and watch her drive away. She's in my car. She's drunk. But I'm drunk, too, and there's nothing I can do." Such economy of words, but what more do we really need to know at this point?

After another interlude with the recovery boys, Carver moves on to the real story. This is the second time the narrator's been let off to dry out here. First time he was brought by his wife. Frank Martin, the guy who runs the clinic, assured the narrator at the time they could help him. Here's another of Carver's best lines: "But I didn't know if they could help me or not. Part of me wanted help. But there was another part."

There's a quick description of how the narrator ended up with his girlfriend after his wife asked him to leave. As an Italian scientist quips about a growing monster in Twenty Million Miles to Earth (1957): "Horrible, but fascinating." It's really funny -- the girlfriend, her "mouthy teenaged son," the "not cheery" Pap smear right before Christmas, and more. He recalls leaving the awful son behind and driving to the clinic with her, guzzling champagne along the way. He wonders if she's okay, if the test results are true, but feels paralyzed to act: "But she hasn't called me, and I haven't called her. . ." Here's another one of my favorite Carver riffs: "But she has my car, and I have things at her house; I know we'll be seeing each other again." This is soon followed by the narrator's wish to talk to his wife, even though they've been fighting like maniacs: "But I wanted to talk to her now. Something had to be done about my stuff. I still had things at her house, too."

This sets up the rest of the story nicely, and the ending, which is near perfect. I just love this story! The Sopranos employs the same mix of dark humor and human complexity with similar results. Who could forget Christopher's intervention? Or any of his various bouts with addiction amid various complications with girlfriends or a wife? Repeat damage, endlessly repeated. Horrible, but fascinating. And there but for the Grace of God goes any of us.

This month, we will be able to take a closer glimpse into Raymond Carver as writer, person and spouse via Maryann Burk Carver's What It Used To Be Like: A Portrait of My Marriage to Raymond Carver. We already have a sense that Raymond loved her deeply and forever, even though they couldn't stay together and he ended up marrying Tess Gallaher. One can really see Maryann's charm and charisma in a documentary included with the Criterion Collection of Short Cuts (2004; 1993), the Robert Altman adaptation of Carver short stories, and despite Tess Gallaher's transparent attempts to control the narrative. It's now Maryann's turn in full. More will be revealed, and very soon.


Ciao!