Carver was born into a poverty-stricken family at the tail-end of the Depression. He married at 19, started a series of menial jobs and his own career of 'full-time drinking as a serious pursuit', a career that would eventually kill him. Constantly struggling to support his wife and family, Carver enrolled in a writing programme under author John Gardner in 1958. He saw this opportunity as a turning point.
Rejecting the more experimental fiction of the 60s and 70s, he pioneered a precisionist realism reinventing the American short story during the eighties, heading the line of so-called 'dirty realists' or 'K-mart realists'. Set in trailer parks and shopping malls, they are stories of banal lives that turn on a seemingly insignificant detail. Carver writes with meticulous economy, suddenly bringing a life into focus in a similar way to the paintings of Edward Hopper. As well as being a master of the short story, he was an accomplished poet publishing several highly acclaimed volumes.
After the 'line of demarcation' in Carver's life - 2 June 1977, the day he stopped drinking - his stories become increasingly more redemptive and expansive. Alcohol had eventually shattered his health, his work and his family - his first marriage effectively ending in 1978. He finally married his long-term parter Tess Gallagher (they met ten years earlier at a writers' conference in Dallas) in Reno, Nevada, less than two months before he eventually lost his fight with cancer.
اولین چیزی بود که از ریموند کارور میخوندم. اسمشو زیاد شنیده بودم ولی چیزی ازش نخونده بودم. واقعا خیلی جالب بود، جوری که نقش اول داستان صحبت میکرد یه جوری بود که نمیشد باهاش هم ذات پنداری نکنی. فقط نفهمیدم چرا اسم کتاب فیل بود. آخرشم یک ذره روی هوا بسته شد. وگرنه همه چیز عالی.
At the heart of all the stories, this is what Carver writes from. At the heart of any good story, this is the matter at hand. For Carver, it’s all furnished in suburban melodrama. A fine collection of stories at Carver’s best.
Though the stories aren’t memorable, they’re impressionable. And made me miss the suburbs enough that I spent a long Sunday afternoon staring up at the ceiling, remembering all the backyards I’d ever been in looking up from the lawn at stars and skies that I thought could go on for days. But here I am, looking up at he white of the ceiling, wondering where all the time went. Where all the people have gone. And where I’ll be amidst all that has changed, for better or worse. And that is why I read Raymond Carver.
از مجموعه تجربههای کوتاه نشر چشمه - شماره ۳۲ یهویی بین کتابای کتابخونه پیداش کردم. فضای داستانیش قشنگ بود. اضطراب و استرس شخصیت اول رو قشنگ حس میکردم و بیان جزئیات با توجه به کوتاه بودن داستان به اندازه بود. مابقی شخصیتهای داستان توسط نسبتشون با شخصیت اصلی اسمگذاری شده بودن که بانمک بود به نظرم. پایان خیلی لوس و بیمزهای هم داشت :)) همین.