I'm curious as to what you make of Mr. Mileson and Mrs. da Tanka's final exchange--about cow-parsley--and their respective thoughts that accompany it. A missed opportunity for connection/meaning amid a rather bitter encounter? And the possibility (my gut inference) that the five-pound cheque (not a five-bob note) on the mantelpiece will consequently remain uncashed? As the story ends I sense something of new self-knowledge rather than diminishment.
I think, yes, it's like as the rancor of the forced meeting is about to dissipate, they are allowed/allow themselves to see how close they are to each other despite everything. Your reading of the ending is interesting—possibly so! I think Trevor has trained me to read his endings as almost exclusively bathetic/pathetic, but maybe the cow parsley episode is meant to give us hope for them!
I'm excited to find this series of reviews, even if I'm a bit late to the party. I have been an avid reader of William Trevor for many years, and I'm looking forward to this excuse to read through his Collected Stories. The huge volume, printed in 1990, is one I remember borrowing from my mother many years ago. Last year she passed away, and one of the few possessions of hers I took from her empty house was this book, so it reminds me of her.
Anyway, getting down to the first story in the Collected Stories, "A Meeting in Middle Age", I have to say I found it unpleasant. This is surely intentional, because the whole idea of planning an affair, in order to have legal grounds for divorce, is sordid in itself. The added disagreeableness of Mrs. Da Tanka compounds this. Trevor does everything he can to make the reader feel disgust at the situation, from the vulgar grill-room where they have dinner, to the realisation that Mrs. Da Tanka is more overweight than she looks with her clothes on.
There are some details I don't understand. Why did the author choose Da Tanka as the name of the woman? I have no idea where this name is from, or if the woman is supposed to be foreign. It was off-putting for me. Some have commented that it is hard to follow what's going on, with the author switching from one train of thought to another. I didn't find it too bad, because I'm used to how Trevor uses his characters' thoughts to push the narrative forward.
I can't say I enjoyed it, but it isn't supposed to be enjoyable. I generally don't like art to express ugliness, because in my mind that defeats its purpose. If we feel repulsed by a story, why bother to read it in the first place? As far as it goes, the story effectively conveys a sad, sordid meeting of two people in middle age, but it doesn't move me, except making me feel slightly sick, which is not a feeling I relish. I expect far more in the stories to come.
I'm very late to the party here. I picked up Trevor's Collected Stories this evening intending to finally get round to reading his earlier work. I am familiar with his novels and the later short fiction.
As I finished this first story, I felt something I hadn't felt in quite a long time. It was a contented sigh, a feeling of complete satisfaction with every element of this story and I had to seek out other thoughts and reactions to it online. And so I came to your blog. While I completely see your frustration with some aspects of the story, and agree with some of the clunkiness of it, I still felt a sense of wonder when I read the final sentence, like a clasp locking perfectly over a case. Trevor is wonderful at the little details and, even in this early story, many sentences sing. The detail of the five pounds 'propped up on the mantelpiece' is powerful but I think it's the banal anticlimactic addition of the phrase 'behind a china cat' that just took my breath away
Anyway, I loved your post, and I will look forward to reading each of your essays as I move though each story in this collection by a master storyteller.
I'm curious as to what you make of Mr. Mileson and Mrs. da Tanka's final exchange--about cow-parsley--and their respective thoughts that accompany it. A missed opportunity for connection/meaning amid a rather bitter encounter? And the possibility (my gut inference) that the five-pound cheque (not a five-bob note) on the mantelpiece will consequently remain uncashed? As the story ends I sense something of new self-knowledge rather than diminishment.
I think, yes, it's like as the rancor of the forced meeting is about to dissipate, they are allowed/allow themselves to see how close they are to each other despite everything. Your reading of the ending is interesting—possibly so! I think Trevor has trained me to read his endings as almost exclusively bathetic/pathetic, but maybe the cow parsley episode is meant to give us hope for them!
I'm excited to find this series of reviews, even if I'm a bit late to the party. I have been an avid reader of William Trevor for many years, and I'm looking forward to this excuse to read through his Collected Stories. The huge volume, printed in 1990, is one I remember borrowing from my mother many years ago. Last year she passed away, and one of the few possessions of hers I took from her empty house was this book, so it reminds me of her.
Anyway, getting down to the first story in the Collected Stories, "A Meeting in Middle Age", I have to say I found it unpleasant. This is surely intentional, because the whole idea of planning an affair, in order to have legal grounds for divorce, is sordid in itself. The added disagreeableness of Mrs. Da Tanka compounds this. Trevor does everything he can to make the reader feel disgust at the situation, from the vulgar grill-room where they have dinner, to the realisation that Mrs. Da Tanka is more overweight than she looks with her clothes on.
There are some details I don't understand. Why did the author choose Da Tanka as the name of the woman? I have no idea where this name is from, or if the woman is supposed to be foreign. It was off-putting for me. Some have commented that it is hard to follow what's going on, with the author switching from one train of thought to another. I didn't find it too bad, because I'm used to how Trevor uses his characters' thoughts to push the narrative forward.
I can't say I enjoyed it, but it isn't supposed to be enjoyable. I generally don't like art to express ugliness, because in my mind that defeats its purpose. If we feel repulsed by a story, why bother to read it in the first place? As far as it goes, the story effectively conveys a sad, sordid meeting of two people in middle age, but it doesn't move me, except making me feel slightly sick, which is not a feeling I relish. I expect far more in the stories to come.
Dear Adam,
I'm very late to the party here. I picked up Trevor's Collected Stories this evening intending to finally get round to reading his earlier work. I am familiar with his novels and the later short fiction.
As I finished this first story, I felt something I hadn't felt in quite a long time. It was a contented sigh, a feeling of complete satisfaction with every element of this story and I had to seek out other thoughts and reactions to it online. And so I came to your blog. While I completely see your frustration with some aspects of the story, and agree with some of the clunkiness of it, I still felt a sense of wonder when I read the final sentence, like a clasp locking perfectly over a case. Trevor is wonderful at the little details and, even in this early story, many sentences sing. The detail of the five pounds 'propped up on the mantelpiece' is powerful but I think it's the banal anticlimactic addition of the phrase 'behind a china cat' that just took my breath away
Anyway, I loved your post, and I will look forward to reading each of your essays as I move though each story in this collection by a master storyteller.
Thanks for writing, Alan, and please check in now and then on your journey through the Collected—so many incredible stories to come!