Ishiguro's Nocturnes: Redux

     A recent on-line discussion of Ishiguro’s Nocturnes caused me to revisit this topic and to develop, from a slightly different angle I think, a fresh approach to presenting my critique. It is different and detailed enough to provide perhaps a clearer statement of my position.
    Oddly, though the work is entirely mine, I almost feel guilty for moving it here from its origin. This is especially odd since this is exactly what I did in a number of early reviews-before I committed to the blog. I think it has to do with the fact that the ideas were worked out in response to two or three particular interlocutors. It presents to me the strange feeling of publishing my own mail. Anyway, I feel more sincere in including the first paragraph here as well. All other comments and opinions being, obviously, for general consumption.

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“‘Music and Moonlight’, Blah, Blah, Blah!”

   Recently, I vowed to look into the legacy of William Trevor to find for myself the reason behind his quasi-invisibility in modern anthologies. At the time, I intended to compare him and his work to others, including Kazuo Ishiguro (a winner of the Booker Prize, in 1989, for The Remains of the Day, and various other awards and accolades), with a focus on their short stories—since that is what Trevor is best known for. Well, as promised, I have read Trevor’s stories  (in After Rain) and I have read Ishiguro’s stories (in Nocturnes) and I have this to report: the comparison isn’t even close; indeed, it is not even fair! Ishiguro’s Nocturnes makes such a poor showing as an entry in the Art-of-storytelling category that it can’t be compared, any more than high school football can be compared to an NFL play-offs game. It was an unfortunate choice on my part! For they are playing different games altogether, dictated entirely by their strengths and relative maturity (This is Ishiguro's first volume of short stories!)—to say nothing of the invidious influence of money.

Re: William Trevor (Writers and their Seasons)

I read somewhere this quip: 'It's a good thing Trevor is already Trevor, or he wouldn't get an editor to answer an email.' Knowing nothing of William Trevor to this point, I naturally had to find out why.

Trevor is an Irish author, 82 years of age--his birthday is Tuesday may 24th--for over 50 years a resident in England but "Irish in every vein." His collected short stories (1993) comprise a huge volume which is suitable as building material or as a substitute for exercise equipment. Two more volumes were published more recently (2009), and he's not done yet!

I have just begun reading William Trevor's After Rain, a book of short stories from 1996 (I scored a first edition in mint condition for $6USD), and I am loving the stories, their forms and plots and especially his presentation of character, but the language, well, not so much. Do the editors have a point? Is the quip more than a matter of fashion? Most everything a writer can, and should, do is done and done well, but I am still a bit disappointed? Sounds slightly spoiled when I put it that way, no?

It makes me wonder and want to know--very specifically and critically--just what it is I am looking for when I approach an author who is new to me. I went to the Oxford book of shorts, selected and edited by Byatt in 1998, to see where he stood with the times. Imagine, a writer almost universally acclaimed as the master of the short story is not represented there! This makes me think that I am not alone when it comes to approaching writers with an agenda--or just a jaundiced eye.

I'm resolved to do a few things: 1) read all of After Rain (which is just a tiny part of his  oeuvre among short stories, alone) with an eye to my own limitations as a reader; 2) read Death in Summer, his novel from 1998, to be generally more familiar with him as an author, and then, 3) read a bunch of the Byatt selections from the Oxford book, focusing on 'the moderns'. Perhaps some comparison can lead to insight about what can make a writer well respected, but still unpopular. (In this regard, I'm thinking also of comparing it to Ishiguro"s Nocturnes, another 1998 book of shorts, some of which I have already read and enjoyed, but, frankly, this may be making the project a career. We'll see!)

My gut tells me Trevor is both a man of his times and a victim of his times. I hope to be more whole-heartedly on his side before this is over! (Arghh! This could require some reception history research as well.)

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