Well That's Odd
Just when I was starting to get used to bylines in the New Yorker magazine (yes, I know, I'm a little slow on the uptake), along comes an unsigned article. Why? Perhaps it has something to do with the unsettling subject matter: the plain truth, first revealed by D.T. Max in the Times Magazine in 1988, that what we love about Raymond Carver is really what we love about the editing skills of Gordon Lish.
The decision to write anonymously here seems especially freighted, less a mere throwback to the Shawn years and having something more to do with the nature of Lish's initially invisible and essential influence.
The revelation was so powerful when it appeared nearly 20 years ago because it went to the heart of a gut-wrenching ethical dilemma: sure, we say we believe in the right of the artist to have final say over his or her own work, and yet the fact is, it was Lish who made Carver's stories into the masterpieces that they are. Carver's later stories, where he resisted editing, lack the same punch.
It will be instructive to go through the before-and-after exercise the magazine proposes by publishing "Beginners," the story as Carver wrote it, before Lish turned it into "What We Talk About When We Talk About Love." I promise to be open to the possibility that I will appreciate Carver's original vision. It will be hard, but I hope to have my mind changed.
Those are the moments of transformation I wait for nowadays. Usually they follow a pattern: some assertion is made and then quickly overturned. Just a few months ago, I was walking down the street, thinking how I needed to admit I had little appreciation for Mozart's music. Just putting it into words, unspoken as they were, prompted a compulsive three-day binge of listening to nothing but the andante from his "Jupiter" symphony.
Correction below, in comments.
The decision to write anonymously here seems especially freighted, less a mere throwback to the Shawn years and having something more to do with the nature of Lish's initially invisible and essential influence.
The revelation was so powerful when it appeared nearly 20 years ago because it went to the heart of a gut-wrenching ethical dilemma: sure, we say we believe in the right of the artist to have final say over his or her own work, and yet the fact is, it was Lish who made Carver's stories into the masterpieces that they are. Carver's later stories, where he resisted editing, lack the same punch.
It will be instructive to go through the before-and-after exercise the magazine proposes by publishing "Beginners," the story as Carver wrote it, before Lish turned it into "What We Talk About When We Talk About Love." I promise to be open to the possibility that I will appreciate Carver's original vision. It will be hard, but I hope to have my mind changed.
Those are the moments of transformation I wait for nowadays. Usually they follow a pattern: some assertion is made and then quickly overturned. Just a few months ago, I was walking down the street, thinking how I needed to admit I had little appreciation for Mozart's music. Just putting it into words, unspoken as they were, prompted a compulsive three-day binge of listening to nothing but the andante from his "Jupiter" symphony.
Correction below, in comments.
posted by DO at 11:15 AM
4 Comments:
Hi!
I read DT Max's cover story on Carver, and I remember it was published in 1998, not 1988.
Cheers
I like your blog.
I tend to take Carver's side in the debate, because I had a similarly transformative moment when I read "A Small, Good Thing" after having read "The Bath." I also generally prefer Carver's work in and after Cathedral, because the Lish stuff feels too mannered and caustic. What the later stories lack in punch, they make up for in humanity.
But that's just a respectfully differing opinion, and is neither here nor there. I'm also looking forward to comparing more of the originals with their published versions.
Oh, and the lack of a byline is odd. Nice catch on that.
writing_degree_zero is completely correct. It was 1998, not 1988. And yet, the typo managed to compound itself by having me write, even though it seemed unlikely, that it ran nearly 20 years ago. Even though my gut said to me, gosh, that doesn't feel right, still the power of the printed word, however incorrect, overrode my instinct. Now that's effed up.
More than 20 years after reading the stories (this time I have it right), I have a feeling I'm a different enough person that I'll probably end up agreeing with st.
It looks like David Remnick wrote that introduction, according to this NPR piece about the question of who has the rights to the unedited Carver stories. Interesting that it wasn't signed, still!
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