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THIS WEEKEND in a hostel in Futalefu, Chile I found one of my all-time favorite books, Cathedral, by Raymond Carver.
I’ve read the stories in this book probably half a dozen times each and still keep finding new layers.
Yesterday I noticed this passage in the story “Careful.”
As a quick set-up: the protagonist Lloyd is separated from his wife Inez, and has moved into a cheap attic apartment where he lives by himself and tries to deal with his drinking problem. After not having seen each other for a long time, Inez comes to visit.
“Hi, Lloyd,” Inez said. She didn’t smile. She stood in the doorway in a bright spring outfit. He hadn’t seen the outfit before. She was holding a canvas handbag that had sunflowers stitched onto its sides. He hadn’t seen the handbag either.”
As I read and then reread this passage I realized something about the way I usually write descriptions and the way most other writers write descriptions, and how this description of Inez was different: it reveals not only what the narrator saw but how he saw it.
Remember that he hasn’t seen his wife in a long time. Then notice the order of what he sees: (a) her face [and the fact she wasn't smiling], (b) her outfit, [noting that it's an outfit he hadn't seen before], and then (c) a new handbag.
Most writers seem to describe scenes and people in a way that seems just that–descriptions. For example, they might describe the scene listed above as: “She stood in the doorway wearing a spring dress and holding a handbag. She wasn’t smiling.”
There’s nothing “wrong” with that description, but it doesn’t convey much about the way the narrator sees this character. It says, essentially, that he sees her as just a woman standing in the doorway without smiling.
Compare this with all the unstated emotions conveyed through the way Carver ordered his descriptions of Inez. The first thing he notices: “She wasn’t smiling.” This implies that he may have hoped she would be smiling, or perhaps he’s simply resigned that she isn’t happy to see him. However you interpret it, what matters is that the first thing he noticed was her face.
After that, “she stood in the doorway.” She doesn’t just walk in. This implies various things about where they are in their relationship. He scans her body, notices that she’s wearing something new. Then his eye goes to her bag and he notices that’s new too. All of this continues to add a sense of distance between them. They’re no longer sharing the same experiences.
As I wrote last month about how Raymond Carver’s work wasn’t so much an “expression” but something remixed over and over with editor Gordon Lish until every detail was just right: there’s nothing accidental about any of these lines or how they’re ordered. Each one is constructed in a way that gives the maximum amount of information about who the characters are, what the relationship is between them, and how they see the world.
No matter what kind of writing you’re doing, whether it’s travel narratives or straight up journalism, learning how to describe beyond what just you can “see” (such as the relationships between characters), is another way to progress as a writer.
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Sometimes even before writing it helps just to work on your observation skills.
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