2011 will go down as the year in which novels and I did not get along. Right around page 42 or 153 or 209, we would split up, or at least separate. But like many exes, they lingered - on my nightstand, in my car, in tote bags and purses.
Seeing that novels and I just couldn't make it work, I turned to short stories.
My favorite read this year came from My Mistress's Sparrow Is Dead, a collection of love stories (and not-quite-love stories) edited by Jeffrey Eugenides. It came out a few years ago, full of really good and not especially new stories.
"What We Talk About When We Talk About Love" by Raymond Carver is three decades old. It's also a canonical story from a very important 20th century writer who also happens to be one of my husband's favorite writers. In other words, I am very late to this game. This story, in addition to having Carver's characteristic inclusion of alcohol consumption, ordinary people and brevity, has searingly realistic but somehow still lyrical dialogue. It's like harsh reality, but upgraded and poetic, with characters who talk about something really important in exquisitely human terms.
It's the kind of story that recognizes what is sad about life while also dousing that sadness with honest beauty. I'm just really glad I read it.
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