A review by teresatumminello
What We Talk About When We Talk About Love by Raymond Carver

2.0

Except for the title story, I found these stories tiresome. By the time I got to the title story (which I’ve read before) in its penultimate spot, I was beyond tired of all the drinking the characters did; and because of that, I liked the title story a bit less than when I read it in isolation, though I agree it’s his masterpiece.

I wasn’t interested in most of the characters and I disliked the deadpan lines that concluded most of the stories, apparently the doing of Gordon Lish, Carver’s editor at the time. But I can’t blame Gordon Lish for my dislike, as I took a detour to read the later “Cathedral” and liked it only marginally better than most of these. Blaming Lish also doesn’t take into account the multitude of Carver fans who prefer the Lish-edited versions.

I can only conclude I don’t enjoy Carver for the same reasons I don’t care for Hemingway. Bare bones leave me cold.