Copyrighl 0 1990 by Bob Adelman and Tt間 Callaghcr

Allrigh脂 reserv~. No parl of Ihis book may be reproduαd in any rorm or by any elccuonic or mcchanical means, induding inrormation 510rage and reuieval syslems. WilhoUl pcrmission in wriling from Ihe publisher, cxcepl by a rcviewcr who may quolebrier開制gぉ in areview.

Fi附 ArcadePapcrback Edilion 1994

Originally publishcd in hardcover 踊 A Robcrt Stewart B四lk by Charles Scribner's Sons

ISBN 1-5597仏255・9

Library of Congress Calalog ca吋 Numbcr95羽529Library of 白ngress

臼laloging-in-Publi則loninformation is available.

Publish~ in Ihe Unil~ 5則自 byt¥rcade Publishing, lnc. , New York DistribUI~ by Lillle, Brown and 白mpany

10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 I

PRINTED 1M ITALY

Preced，仇gpages: Raymcnd Caroers d旨'skinSyracωt.M仰 York. (1984) A伽vt:Photogr暗hofAn加，ChtlcJwv. 011 幼e waJl仇 Caroerss似の inSyracωe. υ984)

O卸叫tt: Caroers s仰の in伽 ho凶einSJf町we. ρ984)

7冶匂おokand jacket ωertぬs伊Iedby Samuel N. Antupit

The卯雌伽g吋均的施崎'tthe pmnission gronkdω幼mω噌ゆÚst批飴ruft棚 the削減sq仰の脚nd臼m:寸lte臼r"and "The Phone B倒h・間fromU，伽蜘即時.白'Pyright。 1986by Raymond白n削除p巾凶 bype~mission ofRandom House, lnc. "My Bc焔.t;'"Whe陀Wa健rCome事官IgCth町WithOther

陥ter;"E1k白mp門òMy Daughter!' "For 寝泊:and "In a Marine Lighl N伺r Sequim，W�hington" aJ宅 from Whmmutrû開a1ògt伽TWilh o，伽v陥ω;Copyrighl C 1984. 19邸 byR符mond 臼問r. R.eprin凶 bype~m凶onofRandom H叫Inc.S同制exce叩ISfrom ・長滋hen:"Cad砥dral:"Where I'm 臼lIing From: "Vitamins: and "Chef¥ Hou緒・arefrom 白瓜edrtd.白pyrightC 1981, 1982, 198!! by Raymo吋 ca問r. R.eprin凶 byF耐.ssionof Alfred A. Knopf, 1恥鳴富山町ず白nlappeaJ叫 inTheAtl似たb伽助か“白the­dral: "Chef¥ House:組d"Whe.陀I'm CallingFrom" fint appea陀dinThe脱却路市民・vi加nins" fimap問redin向即'.Sμcifiedex耐plS from"B似dand "Menudo" 邸宅 fromW加.， rm白偽有Z丹肌白押柑11C1986，1987, 1988 by Raymond白rver.Rep巾凶 bype削減onof AlJantic Mon山ly Press.官僚dfinlappe間dinTheM削路市T. 勺ñe Kitchen:"Miracle: "Hum凶ngbird:快晴1ow;"Cravy:'and "Late Fragment" a問 fromA 鳩町民lIltωル陥句作ι CopyrightC 1990 by必e Es値段dRaymond Carver. R.eprin健dhypenniぉionofAlJanlicMon出Jy presι 汎俗時Iow"飢d

"Gravy"店内tappea同dinTheNew給油n."Lines ofReferenぱ isfrom The It:ris lùview, ¥b1ume 25, Number 88, Summer 1985. Copyright 。 mωhyThe Pa市Revi側~h延.Extt中旬from "My Father'主Life"∞pyright C 1984 by Raymond Ouver. "My Fa出前Life"fintap戸包吋 in E.叩ÙTe. "Bobber，'・B剖krup舵y:and も凶ancc"are from 局管1・ ε邸rp.Jt.蜘ZιS伽抱Copyright C 19B!! by R符mond Caner.Reprin蛇dbypem怠説。nofCapr宮町百s，SantaBarbara. Ex問中旬 from"No取材y SaidAny­出ing: 笥gnaJS:勺ltey'陀 NOl\:守urHu血nd:and ・WdlVou 阿世間 BeQuiet. P!case?" are from Wí/l l似品即BeQt成政凶r. 白，pyright。 J976by Raymond Carver. Reprin凶 bypenn凶，ionof McCra仲HiII， lnc.Extt中旬from"Gaze加・ a陀告。mWhat 怖をおIAAhoulW加1.怜施IAAhoulμvt. Copy咋htC1981 匂Raymond Carver. R.eprin凶 by戸n叫錨ionofAlli凶 A. Kno〆;In乙

Carver Country by Tess Gallagher

Tess GalÚlgher, Port Angeles, mωhington. ロ989)

As跡地Imanand 1 set to work on this book 1 川awa陀 that 1 felt somewhat baffied as 10 how to regard the coining of the term “Carver Count町"ぉ it relates to Ray's work and life. It seemed at once integral and antagonistic to our project. That is. 1 mistrusted the catchiness of its ready-made. haiku-like smugness. and its seeming assumption that we might be able to locate the qualities of Raymond Carver's world by simply poiming to physi・callandscapes out of his past or to the kinds of people who had appea陀d in his stories. Nonetheless. the term became a helpful c1ue to certain tangible aspec凶 wewanted to def�e in Ray's work and. with its limitations in sight. it seemed possible to use it in an explorato町" even an inspirational. way.

The book gradually began to evolve so that it became mo町 than a collection of photographs posiｭtioned against pas鎗g白 ofRays work. It became a sto円，

both of Ra戸 life as a writer and a man. and a1so of our lives together as writers. lovers. and helpmates. We d町ided to add selections from Ray's letters. as well as photographs of his drafts and notebooks. those totemic items he kept on his desk. and photographs of people important to Ray's ljfe.

Finally. 部 we worked on 出e 加ok it began to occur to me that Carver Country was. in fact. an amalｭgam of feelings and psychic 陀alities which had existed in America. of course. even befo陀Raybegan to write about them. But because of his writing we began 10 give these feelings and pattems mo陀 C陀dibility. This elusive inteｭrior had to be carried in the tonalities of the photoｭgraphs. in 出e informal, possibly even furtive. moments of Bob Adelman's anistry. A current of benign menace seemed to pervade Ray's f�tionalized world at its incepｭtion. and would have to be a strong element in def�ing the invented territorγwea陀 callingCarver Country.

Ray's storie事 carry their own pa口icular brand of tension-what William Stull, one of the most knowledgeｭable writers on Rays work, termed a “purgatorial intenｭsity~ Critics have described this ominous quality variously. Marc Chenetier's phrase is a “motherlode of threat:' Michael Koepf writes that although the問 is a Chekho・vian cJarityω Ray注 stories， the陀 is a “Kafka田quesense that something is terribly wrong behind the scenes~ It is this KafKaesque quality. combined wi出 the quotidian 町ality， which 1 feel Bob Adelman主 photographs captu陀most palpablド

The later expansive. mo陀 inclusiveand generous aspects of Ray's development have been represented perｭhaps best in the sω町田pectof our book-its movement from early Iife. through his 陀cove円 from alcoholism to our maπiage and his f�al days. Bob has approached Rays writing and life al its most affecting point for his anistic vision. a fact that meant he has focused somewhat mo陀 on Rays early Iife. This emphasis was also occaｭsioned by a letter Ray wrote to Bob early on in their discussion about the project.

Ray's letter w部 an encouragement to Bob's work. and its Aavor and enthusiasms a陀ぬ pa吋cularly Ray's that it seemed natural that it accompany and explica隠many of the photographs which form the nucleus of the book.τbe text Qf this letter centers around Rays childｭhood and early adult life in Yakima in eas民mWashingｭton , and mov白 on to other locales such as the Grand

8.

Coulee Dam on the Columbia River whe陀 his father had worked, then onward to由erolling hills known as明0問Heaven" count円 near proぉer， W.ぉhington ， commemo・m健dina p閃mofhis called simply “Prosser."

The years in which Ray and 1 made our life tog仙er between Port Angel田 in northwestem 陥sh・ington State and Syracuse, N.Y., have been rep陀sen健dinportraits of some of the people close to us from these places. They include my brother, Morris, Ray's huming and fishing partner; my friend, jerry Carriveau, who is blind and on whom “Cathedral" was modeled; our pain隠r friend, Alfredo An官guin; those named in the poem “My Boat; our colleagues and friends in Syracuse, CaJifomia, and New York City; and also in 出eportraitsof Ray near Hurricane Ridge or at the mouth of Morse Creek as it feeds into 出eStraitofj田ndeFuca.

The physical proximity to water, in fact, became a source of inspira�n for Rays later poems and for his M加ok，AM仰向必ω them仰ザlúl. The sense of removal and wildness on the fo陀sted 01ympic Peninsula with the sno帖covered Olympic Mountains, borde陀d by the moody wate凶 ofthe Strait between Canada and Amerｭica, allowed Ray the actual solitude in which to write the stories and poems that would enlarge his work, spirｭitually and artistically. lt is amazing to realize that in the e1even years we we陀 toge出er in Port Angeles and in Syracuse he wrote eleven b∞ks， having written his initial two books of fiction and two of p田町 duringa period of twenty years. ten years of which he'・dbeen suffering from a1coholism.

Landscape did ul�ately become crucial to 山eway Bob was able to sugg田ta forsaken quality in the Iives of Rays characters. The陀 is nOthing, for instance, to give cover in the photograph of¥¥鈩as Ridge and, in this. it is like the f100dlight intensity of Ray's own writing. which put honesty of emotion and tru出棺lIingabove all. even to the point of laying his characters' lives open and vulnerable at moments when they we悶 most shamed and overwhelmed. Rays proclivity for scoming tricks in his writing. ゐr favoring simplicity over omamentation, for choosing economy as the most telling sign of veracity-these seem p陀sent in elements of the Yakima landscape. The complement to this terrain of exposu陀was perhaps the quiet in�acy Ray ゐund near streams and mountains in Port Angeles, whe陀 he Iived a good part of his final years.

9・

Ray and 1 visited Yakima only twice-once in August in 1985 in search of film sites ゐrhisstory“Tellthe¥¥bmen We'陀 Going:and also to attend his Davis High reunion. On this last occasion we gotωge由erwi出jer町King， ac恥smatewho'd become a disc jockey, and he and Ray had laughed about what Ray had called their “bozo" days in his poem “甘leProjectile:' Ray's high.sch∞Itimes in Yakima-stealing hubcaps, hanging out with pals jerry King, Dick Miller, King Cook, and匂leRousseauｭare mutely p陀sent in Bobs photographs of the fair. grounds and of Playland, the shabby music hall whe陀Ray danced to the music of Tommy and jimmy Dorsey and on his first date got miserably drunk for that first time, and passed out so cold “people出ought1 had died:'

Ray had 町eived D's in English and hadn't done much beuer in his other courses, so it was an amazement to him when his c1assma~白 at the 陀union 陀cogoizedhim in the progr涜m ぉ an “iOlemationallyknown writer:' When Ray was asked to stand and take their applause he was so happy just to be acknowledged that he fairly beamed.

When 1 was invited to Davis High after Rays death, one of the English teachers we'd met at the 陀union， Linda Brown, asked me which c1ass 1 wanted to auend. “Bonehead English: 1 said，“because 出a白 whe陀Ray would have been:' She happened to be teaching such a c1ass, and we read aloud p凹msby Rayωthe students, who put aside their baffied and dazed exteriors for the hour, and ente同d freshly the world they we陀 living in, through the mediation of someone who had sat whe陀theywe陀 sitting. 1 imagined Ray the陀 inthe mistakenly near-to・stupid zone, lagging and humiliated , wi由 nobets on him to come out on top in anything.

It was extremely unlikely that a writer growing up in a household whe陀ZaneGrey westems and the newsｭpaper we児 the only available reading materials would come to affect world literature to the extent that Ray. mond Carver has. The fact that the stories seem to travel so easily would suggest that Carver Countrγfinds its corresponding territory in the Iives of people nearly everywhe陀. Although his character百 we陀 mostly blueｭcollar, especially in the early stories. the appeal of such liv，田 seems not to have limited interest in his storics. Ray was ぉ su叩rised as anyone to 陀alize that by 1986 his stories had been translated into twenty-three languag民including japanese, Hebrew, Portu伊e民 and Dutch. 1

問memberwhen the firstJapanese editions came imo the house, how he tumed the pages wi出 a kind ofbemuscd astonishmem, starting at the back. “Can you beat this; he said. “Isn't this something?"

In France, where the intellectual dimate is such that its readers often look askance at writing which doesn't have some pervasive theo同tical agenda , Rays work became highly regarded for i岱c1arity， and a fidelity toreality 出atquickened its inner strangeness-elements which hadn't been fashionable there since Maupas鈎nt，except perhaps in the Nouveau Roman. One of his French translators, Fran輟is Lascan, had originally misｭapp陀hendedRays stance in the stories as ironic. “Thenl happened to see a phoω'graph of Raymond Carver and I had to 陀visemy whole idea of his tone and attitude; he told me in Paris. “1 knew the man I was looking at in the photogr司phcould never condescend [0 his characters. I had to retranslate the enti陀 book."

After耐deathan interviewer for theルGω物n，James Wood, asked me what I thought had caused Ray's work to come to prominence both in America and around the world during the mid-1980s. In t町ing to answer 1 spoke mai凶y to what was happening in Amerｭica during the Rea伊nc四 andwhat cominucs undcr thc Bush administration. Rays publication had happcned [0 coincide with the 白ct of the poor having cssentially bcen told to take ca陀 ofthemselves in 山eguise of the phrase: “ the p吋vate seclor~ .口le private sector was supposed to pick up humanitarian 陀sponsibilitiesthe federal governｭment had chosen 10 drop. lt w泊 mostly a verbal dance oul of a costly a陀na for the government. Already the hope, even for middle-dass people, of owning a home or of scnding their children 10 colJege, had begun to slip from their grasp, while this 陀a1ity for working-c1ass peo・ple had hit earlier. If 由ey were out of work and uninｭsu同dand fell iII, well it was jusl their tough luck.

A line from one of Rays last poems, .. His Ba由robePockets Stu汀ed With Notes; 問p陀sents the embattled situation of many of his characters: “、'Vc've sustained damage, but we'，で stil1 able (0 maneuver: Spock 10 Capｭtain Kirk:' It's (his attempt to maneuver, with and in spite of damage, which constitutes the heroic in Carver Counｭtry. The問 is also a phrase which 1 heard often in my childhood from the working people Ray and 1 grew up

near: “1 can't s偲m to win for losing:' 官lis verbal conｭstruction inscribes colloquially 山.e (wo steps fon岨rdandthreeste伊 backwa吋 oflife in Carver Country.

It was important to Ray 山at he give his char-dcters full dignity, no matter how impoverished their circumｭstances, and I think this is certainly a pan of their anracｭtion for 陀ade隠 everywhe陀. Even when they seem on the verge of being oven¥'he1med by their struggles or by thc ruptu陀s they feel with their surroundings or wi出their families or mates, they don't capitulate without an assessment of tIle damage. Ray's stories a陀 a personal record of individuallives lived with no safety net and no imabrination of a safety net. 百le people who a陀 out of work in his stories become mo陀 than statistics, for Ray had been one of tIlese people. “1・ma paid-in-full memｭber of the working poor~ he'd told interviewers mo陀thanonce.

Wen Ray and 1 first mct and beganω 吋時histories he'd told me how, while he was nineteen and raising his young ぬmily， both his own parcnts and the pa陀nts of his first wife had taken turns appearing on theird∞rstep. asking to be taken in. There was the stoη in his childhood of having had to walk evc町whe町 intheland of the car because his parcnts couldn't afford to own one. No wonder when , in 1982, we had finished the rewrite of a script on the 脳è of Dostoevsky for Carlo Pomi, Ray took his share ofthe money and went down to the Mcrcedes-Benz dealership in Syracuse, N.Y.

He had never had a car that worked. He was wearing a brown V-necked sweater which he'd wom when I'd mct him in Dallas in 1977, but the elbows had worn through. It was fall 1982 and just beゐ陀 the sumｭmer when he would 陀ceive the Mildrcd and Harold Strauss Living Award, which would allow him five years of writing time free from teaching. He'd told the Merｭcedes salesman he wanted to try out the latest mαlel. Reluctandy the salesman look him out to the 1m and , with the man riding impassively along, Ray was allowed to take thc 1983 model ゐr a spin. They drove past the rib take-out pl紅白， tavems, and malls , out into the rolling countηside ， then tumed around and came back. When they pulled up near 出e showroom Ray noticed, with chagrin, that in his haste to get to the deale内 befo陀dosing time he'd come out of the house in his bedroom

IO.

slippers. No wonder the salesman had looked him over carefully.

“1 like it; Ray said to thc man. “1 like it fine. When can you deliver itr

“When would you like it?" the man had inquired, still rather stonily.

“Would tomorrow be t∞ soon?" Ray said. “1 think we could aηョngethat; the salesman said,

beginning to 陀appraise the situation. “How would you be paying for it, sir?"

“ Is cash okay?" Ray asked. “Cash is fine; the man said. He might have pegged Ray as a drug dealer, or

maybe he simply felt rclieved not to have to substan俉te the credit ra佖g of the eager, but rather unlikely looking, customer at his el加w. Ray told me over the phone a加utbuying the car, and he was such a storyteller 山at every nuance of how he'・d made that purchase scems alive in my memo咋 While al1 this was taking place 1 had becn nursing my father, who was in the last stages of lung canccr in Port Angeles. That Christmas, Ray drove the Me代以lesacross thc countrγto Washington and when he arrived we christened it 吋òe Mercedes that Dostoevsky bought:'

w…deany 肌…ce邸…syouth he had lived 白伽E路百説叫tI出h百land the sweat and toil of earn-ing, of working for bosses, the snarl and rip of the green chain at tlte sawmill, Boisc-Cascade, where his Cather and uncle had worked as 鈎w-fìlers in Yakima, Washington. during the 1940s and early 1950s. At various periods in his life Ray had assembled bicydes at Sears. picked tulips and hops, run ernmds for a pharmacy, managed a motel, and swamped n∞rs at a hospi凶 in Arcata. He never forgot the flat-out drudgery, the way tltese jobs used people up and tosscd them aside with little 陀spect for the encrgies and lives offered the陀.

Ray knew enough not lO think such striving was roman�c. Anton Chekhov. his Russian mentor in the short story. had secn it 出“出e prosaic struggle for exisｭtence which takes away the joy of life and drags one into apalhy:' Ray had experienced from the inside the vagaｭries of the spirit caused by poverty, too lilt1e cducatÎon, and a kind of numbness as 問gards the future which 陀sulted in futile attempts to wall off pain with alcohol.

11.

Chekhov wrote,“Peasant blood flows in my veins, and you cannot astound me with the virtues of the peasant町;'and Ray was fond of quo佖g thesc lines when some naive studcnt or reporter attempted to make him a spokesman for the glories of a working-dass existence.

While Ray never forgot these early jobs, hc didn't want to go back to that kind of work, and he felt for anyone who didn't have a way out of such a life. Whal he could do was to communicate lhal such lives were nOl withoul'consequence，山atlhe suffering was 陀alandnot to be disregarded. He had some inspirational teachers in Dennis Schmitz, Richard Day, and john Gardner, excepｭtional writers tltemsclves who saw the importance of what Ray was writing, and who stayed by him and encouraged him at a time when few cared whether the pωple in his stories we問 everheard from.

Ray was always alert whcn anyone was talking about the hardship of work. In his stories he used the jobs people told him about or that hc wimessed-my hairdresscr, judy Martin, who stood on her feet from 8 A.M・ to 7 P.M. most days and who wore a black rose tattoocd on her ankle; my brother Morriぬ work as a gypo・loggerand a powder-monkey. setting dynamite 0町(0 blast logging roads inlo the ridge line; the beautiful flight attendant who exclaims in desperaúon,“Ionly have two hands" somewhe陀“over the steaming Mato Grosso"; Ray's janitorial work in a hospi凶 wher官、 paleand shape1y leg" had been left out on a table in tlte autopsy room he'd been in charge of c1eaning; the young 自陀-eaters we'd seen in Mexico City whose throats had been scorched raw until lheir voices were lost; the obsessive vaωum c1eaner salesman in “CollectOlず; harｭried waitresses and secrでtaries; women who sold eveη­tlling from vitamins to the family car; even the strange lweezer-armed photographer in “ Viewfinder" who makes his living convincing people to buy Polaroids of their houses.

It was as if the people in Carver Counlry would have perishcd without a future tense in lhe language itself. Carver's people were working or they wcre out of work. Any day now they “expected to hear from up north"or 下回ple's luck had gone south on lhem w酪 all.But things we陀 bound to change s∞n. Things would pick up in lhe fall maybe." In his stories RaY had been able, in a likeness to the voices and perceptions of the people themselves, to 陀veal the spiritual tenacity by

ez-b14"'《dF・

4，‘113z"'4z'剖1MM1UH--置F蜘LERL--Jq

had never 陀ad his work and we had not met beゐre this time, although we discovered later we had both been in Iowa City whe陀Ray was teaching briefty at the 愉iters'¥¥brkshop in 1972, and where 1 was a student. We had probably ridden up or down with each other in e1evators. But as we joked later, it hadn't been time for us tO meet.

Sitting wi由 poetJack Myers and other friends in Oallas, Iistening to Ray 陀ad “Fat" and “Why Oon't You Dance; 1 陀alized immediately that 1 was in the presence of a sensibility the Iikes of which 1 hadn't seen befo陀.Hishumor, a much overlooked element of his work, comｭbinedwi出 arueful sense of compulsive necessity in “Fat~ His gift for 出e domestically bizarre was also especially poゆlant ゐr me that day as he 問ad “Why Oon't You Dance; in which a man's household goods, arranged room-like for sale on his lawn, become an exposed metaｭphor of the man's vacated life and marriage.

When 1 陀call Ray standing befolで us in Oallas, shifting nervously as if he was just able ωkeep from Heeing the scene, 1 add to it now what 1 didn't know then-that this was the first陀adinghe'd given since he'd become sober and, as such, rep陀sented a true act of courage. 1 also add the knowledge, of course, that we would be spending the J百t of his )jfe together, and knowing this now, marvel thatωlittle of that future was p陀sentfor me then, except for admiration of his writing and an afTection for the awkwardly gentle man who was so gratefully and humbly before us.

1 rεmember encountering a description of someｭthing which had been said of Chekhov to the efTect that in hisp町民nce people felt they had the ease in which to be themselves, and that even in their weaknesses they would not bejudged. AII p陀tenseand falsity, all pettiness fell away in his companμ This seems an uncannily accuｭrate rendering of the efTect Ray had on people as well. His Pぉsage through the near-death corridors of alcoｭholism had left him full of compassion and an ability to love. What w部 even mo陀 winning was that, unlike so many people one encounters, he also knew how to accep1 love. This somehow communicated ilSelf immediately on sight in his slightly hunched postu陀 and in the shy but attentive way he ente陀dinto conversation. He had seen it all and lived to 1ell it. He never unde陀stimated anyones pain or struggle. At the same time he never heaped C陀dit upon himself for having overcome his ilIness. He knew it w白 a matter of grace, of having put his trust in

which these people survived in spi1e of their limited means, and his 陀aders at all economic levels of the population had been moved toward newawa陀ness.

&陀Iy Carver Country includes those who have di中peaJでd into the powerlessness of alcohol for long tor-1U陀d periods, some of whom sadly never emerge inlo 卸briety， because the disease, at ilS worst, seems to 陀qUl陀a near-death capitulation befo陀 ilS sufTerers will surｭrender and move toward 陀cove町・ In Ray's own cぉehewas hospitalized twice, the last time near kidney and_liver failu陀. He was told on this occasion 山at he would cerｭtainly die, and s∞n， ifhe continued to drink. Previous to his collapse, Ray had gone drunk to Alcoholics Ano!lY: mous meetings; and ifter his release from the hospital he'd gone to Du fTy's, a t同atment center in northern California within sight of Jack London's house..百lisbecame the seuing for the title sto円 of his last fiction collection, Where l'm Calling Fr側.

Afier his stay at DufTy's, Ray “鳴烏11 off汀T印fpartyi加ngi加n San Fr悶.宮ancis筑cωo in thecωompa叩nyoffriend由swhomissed his drunkenness as an extension of their own. Thankfi臼ully he pu叫11怜ed out of it, took himself away from friends and family 10 a borrowed place he called "ChefS House" in a sto叩 hewro1e from this period. Alone there, he brough1 himself down on “hummers:' little shot glasses of whisky administered at lengthening intervals.

Gradually he realized it had been a week and he hadn't had a drink; then a month had passed; and by the time 1 met him for the first time in November of 1977 in Oallas, five months of sobriety had accumulated. He was ext陀mely fragile and, 1 realize now, that coming to 出atDal1as writers' conference at Southern Methodist Univerｭsity rep陀sen1ed a very big risk for him. Such occasions a陀 always fortified with liquor as the accompaniment tO socializing, and Ray braved the overindulgences of 0出­ers in order to 陀adhis stories and to join the com pany of writers the陀.

Michael Ryan, a poet and a mutual friend of ours, had invited us to participate in ilie confelでncealong with Richard Ford, whom Ray was also meeting for the first time, and the p閃t Philip Levine, among others. 1 had heard of Raymond Carver and his work from fictionｭwriting friends in Missoula, Montana, whe陀I'd gone to teach after 山eb陀akup of my second marriage. But 1

12.

、

what AA identifies as “a higher power; and of having miraculously been given the will to turn all temptation to drink aside.

Ray's回briely was the single most empowering element of his Iife during our time together. Without 山at， nothing wou1d have been possib1e. Ray's state of grace included that ùle川11 to drink seemed to have been entire1y 1ifted from him ぉ in 出e陀1ease from a curse. He was not Iike 回me 陀covering a1coholics we knew who we陀 constant1y ba1anced on 出ep陀cipice of a possib1e plunge back into darkness.

The陀 wasonly one time during our 1ife together when 1 陀member being afraid for Ray because of the possibility 出at he might drink again. This occurred in March of 1988. He'd strangely begun to feel a fearfulness a加uthis sobriety and had started out for an AA meeting in Sequim , fifteen minutes from Port Angeles. Not t∞ 10ng after he・d 1eft the house the telephone rang. It was Ray. He had been unable ωlocate the meeting and had ended up in a bar. “l've orde陀da drink; he said,“but 1 haven't drunk any of it. lt's sti1l siuing on the bar~ He was 1ike a drowning man 陀achingout for a life raft. “Don'tgo back in there; 1 said, as evenly and as sure1y as 1 cou1d. “Come home, hon. Just get in the car and come home:' When he arrived home safe and sober, 1 ran to meel him inthe 戸rdand we just stood there a while and held onto each other.“You don't want to go back that way; 1 said. 寸bosedemons are behind us~

Once the cause of the pressu陀 in his head , the terrible headaches which caused him to lock his jaw, was discovered to be the 問su1t of a brain tumor associated with the 1ung cancer he had been fighting since October, we understood what had caused his brush with the old compulsion to drink. Ray had felt the shame and helpｭlessness of his drinking days, but again he had been allowed an important ぽape， even during the terrible dilemma of the illness which would ultimately take his life. It meant that he could rightly sustain a vision of himself in his full mental and spiritual st陀ngth to the end.

Ray didn't romanticize what he called his “Bad Raymond" days. But he did maintain an affection for伽tfallible and wayward selfhe had preserved most indelib1y in his fiction and in stories often recounted in the p陀s­enceofhis fi討ends. 1 can remember wonderful evenings with 出e painters Susan Lytle and Alfredo Arreguin in

I3・

Seattle, during which Ray and Alfredo wou1d be in tears with laughter whi1e sharing some near-catastrophic tale of their separate drinking days.

It had been 1980 when Ray had firsl met Alf1陀do，who・d been a friend of mine since 1 had been seventeen and firsl in Sealtle. Alfi陀do wassti1l d吋nkingwhen they met. But, inspi陀dpartly by his new friendship with Ray. Alfredo soon gained his sobrie呼 Thetwo men we陀 1ikecompanions who'd been tested in some unheralded but 錫vage campaign, and each time they met there was an aura of the spiritua1 and physica1 carnage they had withｭstood and had miraculous1y survived. Ray sa1uted their friendship in 山efictionalized character of A1fredo in his sto町 "Menudo了 Alfredo's gift to Ray was a painting he had done for us and p陀sented as a wedding gift. It is ca11ed “百le Hero's Joumey" and became the jacket and end-paper art for A New pc似hω theWat，ゆll. The 伊intingportrays salmon 1eaping toward a waterfall above pat・terned magenta waves. In the sky a陀 whatRay cal1ed “ the ghost fish;' a stream of sa1mon f10ating in c10udlike serenity in the opposite di陀ction. We hung the painting above our couch and meditated often in those last days on itspageant町 ofstrugg1e and re1ease. which was a1so, in a sense, a portrait of Ray's own life.

LroughhiSS帥ty Ray山E叫e山prove陥own situation. but the fact that he couldn't secu陀 thissame release for his family's chronic troub1es 問mainedan ongoing heartache. Again and again Ray bent his energies toward consoling and helping his mother and other family members, even when it seemed no good news cou1d come from those quarters.

No matter what stability Ray managed for his own life, it became a fact of life 出at he would be buffet鐡 and unsettled by the dissatisfactions emanating from the di陀ction of family-which included his mother, his ex・wife, his daughter. and his brother. His 50n, Vance, had joined us in Syraωse in 1981 to attend college and manｭaged eventually to extricate himself from the marginal prosp民tsoflife in the desperate zone.

What one might call the tyranny of family would have to be a main element in any characterization of Carver Country. It figured prominent!y in Ray's fiction. His characters, whether alone or within marriages or on the peripheηof family, have compulsions which arise

from the sheer need to be included or remembe陀d.Often theya陀 reduced to simply inventing a usefulness for themselves. 明記se compulsions take hold esp虻iallywhen 山eyfind themselves out of work or away from thc solace of family. His characters sometimes serve these repetitive, desperate actions ぉ faithfully 山eymight have worked jobs.

There is, for instance, ﾙle mOﾙler in “ Boxes"who moves every few months, and who exemplifies 出eitinerｭant or gypsy natu陀 ofmany of the character宮 in Rays stories. Indeed, she 町presentsa facet of American life in the way its people use up “place" and depend upon 山eidea and the possibility of a “next" or a “new" place as 陀medy and comfort. In AA shorthand, when an alcoｭholic does this its called “taking a geographic~ a sign that the drinker is trying to shake his or her troubles instead of dealing with them. But it is enti陀ly possible that movingi闘Ifis now inscribed on lhe national p5yche as 50mething 、ormal" in situations of stress, IOS5, and despair.

“Boxeダ W回 pauerned on the peripatetic moveｭments of Rays mother, who came, on one of her many move5, to live in Port Angeles near us for a year. During lhe time 1 was with Ray he usually spent a couple of monﾙls a year in concern over his mother's next move. Her way of insl3l1ing hopefulness was periodically to shcd her surround. These relocations inadvertently guaranteed that she would have the auention and resources of her two sons for a concentra刷 two-monthperiod each year.

At times ﾙle demands from all quarters by Ray旨family for money 陀ached such a pilCh that he felt his connections with ﾙlem had been reduced to this-the simple need for cash.τñe constant din of these 陀questsbeca!"e the un.~ert~\V he s¥Vam against, voicing his disｭmay in poems like “The Mail" and “Schooldesk~ in which he wrote, "And someone, someone is pleading with me.lSaying，もr Christ's sake, don't turn your back on me:"

The fact that he had gone on with his life and his writing and had managed to achieve some Einancial 犯curityw部，組dly， not a clear good in terms of his family. He balanced the 陀wards of his SUCCI田5 against 陀sent­ment, accusation, and the easily tapped guih from 山eyears when his drinking had held him in ﾙlrall and had made it impossible for him to give of either means Or self.

Ray managed to preserve an auitude of forｭbearance and love which seemed, even so, to wave like a ßagofsur陀nderabove what his family 陀qui陀dofhim.Almost like a litany he would say to me at times, "1 don't have a heart anymo陀 whe陀由ey・陀 concerned. 百四went a long time ago:' Ray and his daughter had in common 由e specter of alcohol, and having broken fi陀eof it himself, he wished nothing Iωfor his daughter and add陀ssed his concern for her in "1'0 My Daughter; a tough-Iove p�m we・ve prin舵d with Bob's photograph, and which called out to her not to make the same misｭtakes he had made.

In one of his last stories,“Elephant; he d陀waportrait of a working-class character beset on all sides by the needs of family. The image of the father li耐ng the boy onto his shoulders and walking 明白 him became cent悶I and seemed to ameliorate a conjoining sense of burden, duty, and fractu陀d love p陀sented in the sto可­As we worked through the drafts, it seemed 山at Rayandhis character 陀ached a kind of equanimity at the center of the unreasonable demands being made upon 出em.While it is true that the main character's burden is unyielding, he seems to have en聞をd a state of spiritual st陀ngth by sheer virtue of his attitude of perseverance and benevolence.

百is accommodation and spiritual progress wぉevident for Ray in relation to his own family, even when they themsclves failed to be lifted free. 1ぬ never certain what it is that allows for 伊mvth in one's cha悶cter and a tea吋ngaway of chaff toward c1ear vision, but Ray sought mo陀 than ﾙle petty and meager. He strove in his writing and life not to betray 出e true hardships of his experiｭence. At the same time he didn't tモserve enlightenment for the educated and the selιreliant. His characters might be ignominiously engaged in aC1ions which belonged to the mire, 10 the pa此ialities of their talents and the laxities of their wills, but he also allowed them their c1ear moments of recognition and communion when these came, and did so in their vernacular.

Onestory wh凶 was rather a b凶hrough for 陶after W.伯1 >>をおlk Aboul When 怖を TalA Aboul Lave w描“Cathedral; which he began writing in the fall of 1982 on the train to New York City from Syracuse. My friend Jerry Carriveau had phoned from Maryland to 担y he

14・

wanted to visil us. His wife had recemly died of C'.mcer, and he'd come eぉt to spend time with her rでlatives.Jerry had been blind since birth and in 1970 I'd taken a job workingwi出 him for �e Seattle Police Depa口menl for a year. Our job in the Research and Development Department involved, among other tasks , devising a single-print陀trieval file system for fingerprints. ln p陀paration for Jerry's visit, I'd told Ray how l'd drawn finｭgerprint pattems out on a tablet for my friend in such a way 白紙 they formed a raised surface. Then I'd guided his hand over them, simultaneously giving him a verbal description which conでsponded to what he was feeling under his fingertips. Ray was masterful in converting this detail when he fictiona!ized the visit of a blind man in "Cathedral~ He caused the blind man's h.md to rest on top of ﾙle narrators, the陀by placing the narrator in lhe position of making the 町cognitions-not the other way around as it had been in the actual instance-and also inαでasingthe intimacy between the characters.

Ray generally hand-drafted his stories in one or lWO sittings. He secluded himself in his room and appea陀donly ゐrι:upsofcoff民orto check the mail. ゚ ut "Cathedral" was drafted on a train paralleling the Hudｭ釦n River，由e very train 山atJerηhad taken from New York City for our 陀union. Rayand I had been given the loan of an apa町ment for our stay in the city by a friend whowぉ to be away for a few days. This trip was to have been a vacation, a time to see 白Imsand plays, and to eat at 釦megood restaurants. It was the first fr四 timewe'd had in a long while. BUl instead of going out on the town , we bothfellwi出 avengeance to our work and didn・tventu陀out except in 山eevenings.

The apartment was strangely encumberモd byan 伊ormous， sleek 日t 由at could stand on its hind legs and !knew how to tum doorknobs with its paws. When we anemp股d to shut it out it would yowl pitilessly and Aing itself at the d∞r， or we would hear the c1ick of the latch and feel it pounce onto our bed in the middle of the night. Ray w;ぉn't a cat lover, except for our Persian (which he'd nicknamed “the Ground Owl"), and the insisｭtent p陀senceof this 白tbecamemo陀 andmo陀 oppres­sive. When ﾙle cat perched on the sill near an open window one moming Ray began to look longingly out 山e seventh-Aoor window to the st児et below, no doubt imagi凶ngits death by accidental means. ゚ ut in the end we simply wrote and co-existed wi由 the animal, barri-

15・

cading ourselves imo the bedroom at night with a chair Ray tilted against the door.

Thiscatcom白 back to me as emblcmatic of how, when I \，泊s with Ray, domestic acquiescence could shift subtly toward an unexpected malice, that benign menace 50 central to his writing.

While 附 workedωge伽 on "Cathedr古川hrasewas coined that became a permanent pa口 ofour writing vocabula町・It eventually grでw somewhat famou5 出 wellWiﾙl our students and colleagues at Syracuse University. One day I had decided to take Ray to dinner at an lrish pub callcd Colemans, across town in Syracuse. I'd been there with some students, and the food had been a pleasam su中rise after the pub-grub one got in IrでIand.We'd started out a bit Iate and , since I hadn't driven Ùle陀on my own, I began to he5itate about whe町 I wasgoing. Ray interpr割ed ﾙlis a5 a si伊 that 1 was lost and began to despair about ever getting to Coleman's. Anxiety would begin to set in if we didn't get ゐod into him at around 5 P.M. each day. Low blood sugar was possibly a problem, though this had never been diagnosed. As we passed a MacDonalds or a Wendys, Ray would 5郎“Let'sjust pull in here, hon. 悦 can go to Coleman's tomorrow:' About the time 1 finally became genuinely lost, he spot舵dapizzajoint and again attemp凶 to detour us. “ Pizza. I'm just in the mood ゐr pizza~ he said. “Pizza注justwhat I had in mind:' Ultimately we reached Coleman's and had a very fine meal, but ﾙle joumey had left an imp陀ssionthat stayed with us in a new form.

Our habit of working was that once Ray had completed a sufficiemly clear, typed version, he would show it to me. When wc'd gotほn back to Syracuse from our stay in New York he was able to finish a typed draft of “CaÙledral" and brought it down to the basement whe陀I was writing one morning. We usually had Our con・先陀町田 in what we jokingly called the “Library; which was just a room where a たw of our shared 加oks were kept. 悦・dsit on the couch side by side and move through each pagc of the sto可・ But usually, as we began, I'd giv~ a Eとwweather signals about where I thought 出e story was at this particular stag~. That moming 1 踊id，“Ra弥 thisisgoing to be a completely amazing sto可， but )'OU haven't gouen it to Colemans yet. You・ve stopped at ﾙle hamｭbu弔~rstand:' we both began to laugh because he knew

.y what I meant. The phrase “get白19 it 10 Coleｭ• became talismanic between us afler that. When ventually finished 由e presenl ending of "Calheｭthe陀 wasa time when 1 said to him，“1崎llnow， you

宅allygotten 出isstory to Colemanl:'

'as a constant 出at those who had formerly been r characters in the country、 literature finally :d fully inlo cenler Slage in Ray~ work. Their inarｭm臨 did not exempt them from 阿n and loss had the ab日ity to move 凶. I dostill 陀memberan ∞cktail party, however, at which a woman had lached Ray to complain that his characters just I't in健lIectually stimulating enough to keep her ion. Then, as if 由at werでn't enough, she'd said, "1 nd them just t'∞ depressing:' 悦 we問的 used ω stock 陀spons田 thatall we had to do wぉ to lookat 油era certain 陥y when it happened in company, ng出espot鈎 wecould wash it OUl later alone. But Icehadwom 出in ， maybe because shc'd had her say . cover of alcohol, and this time I wanted 10 say ゾHey， l00ts, why don't you just pop a Valium and 山由eWittgenstein:' I 陀call Chekhov's remark in a letter 由at “melan­people always write ga均 while the work of those .陀 cheerful is always dep陀ssing." As a writer then, )uldn't have much control over whether the work 1 bedepr，回singor upli耐ngsince it w泊 a factor of opposite nature. Ray's was a naturally buoyant ~ and lhat me叩t he had the stamina to 陀日町t 出etlt terrain of the lives he portrayed. Ray also fell no should have 10 apologize for the stringency of his vision, nor did he ever feel obligated 10 be anyone's ainment center. He understood instinctively that 5 carrγingthen側s about a people largely forgotｭthe heart of the country. Their story was often grim ithout 陀course 10 the savvy bulwarks of the edu・or of the financially 5町U陀.

y had been bankrupt himself twice by the time I im. Our first fight was over whether or not he take my credit ca吋 toa conference in N側Jerseyit might come to p出sthat he would have a sudden � cash. He was su陀 hecould convince people that was a misprint on 由e 回rdand 由at itshould 陀ally

read “Ted" instead of "Tess:' He had the instincts of an oudaw with none of lhe finesse, though when trying to 陀nta car with him once at an airpoロ I 陀memberbeing astonished at how quickly he supplied 由e name ofan expensive hotel we we陀n・tstaying at in the city, invented ajob he didn't have, and slapped down my ove陀'xtendedVISA which miraculously didn't 町gister as such when they checked it.

On anotheroccasion when he'd gotten himselfin over his head by committing to go to a conference with me al a time when he flat out didn't want to travel, he'd called his pros戸ctive host and told him thal his mother had had a stroke. yc白， hew回田口γt∞，hut well, it seemed it was out of the qucstion 10 do anything but to 5回ybyhisphone. "Quick: he said to me after hanging up，“whata問the symptoms of a stroke? 1 mean, what happens 10 you? 百ley'陀 goingto call backω 民ehow she's doing:' 1 went to 出e conference alone, having to make daily health 陀portson Ray's mother who w田 meanwhilethriving in Sacr百nento.

The “cover-up:・“the side-step:' “evasion;' and “passing the buck" we問 all in Ray's bag of tricks when 1 met him. He'd needed these slrategies during his long drinkingca陀er. His haドit of being on 出e run from bill collectors had caused him to avoid answering the teleｭphone in our early days. 1 ・d let him off at 白隠し butafterawhile 1 made him take his tum at answering it. He・dtoldme about the police coming 10 his door in Cupertino, Califomia. They had shouted over a megaphone for all the neighborhood to hear that he shou1d throw out his credit cards and come out with his hands up. “That 's behind you: 1 told him. 刈悔 a陀n't going to live that way now:'

1 rでmember feeling afraid when 1 was 店内t with Ray 出at living with him might tum out to be Iikc stepｭping into one of his stories. It seemed that a ve可 thinmembrane might separate the world of chaos and order when Ray's perceptions came into play. Some events in our first months seemed to confirm my worst fears, but thankfully this period didn'tlast long.

My first week in the three-bedroom house he'・d陀nted ゐr us in El Paso in 1979, within sight of the racetrack on the New Mexico border, had begun in a very Carve問叫uefashion. 1 w，畠 fixing dinner, expecting Ray ωcome home any minute from his teaching job at the University of Texas, his first job sober. He'd been off

idAttl!1Ifzuyrhh

引汁引引司訓

16.

booze a year and a half but he was still wobbly on a few essemial corners. A knock came at the door and when 1 opened it a man in coveralls said he was there 10 turn off the gas. “But I'm cooking dinner;' I'd said, appealing to 回me sense of basic human deccncy. “1 don't make thc rules, lady: he 銅id. “百le bill hasn't been paid and the gas,she go白 otrCarver Country, it seemed, was a zone in which bills, for 0即時a回n or another, did not always get paid. Somehow 1 convinced the man tha1 I would ぽetopaying 出e bill, and that it wasn't good to make hardｭships for honest people. But from tI閣で on out I took over making su陀 the bills got paid.

τne陀 we陀 times in 出ose first six montlls to・ge出er when Ray would get what he called ・・the willies~ This is a state of unaccountable anxiety that is hard to quell and which 陀covering alcoholi岱陀cognize as a danger signal. These feelings will sometimes attach themselves witll intensity to otherwi詑 innocent occaｭsions.τne night befo陀 1 was to leave alone on a trip to lreland in our EI Paso days, one of our new friends held a party ゐr 凶 and， much ω Rays ∞郎防rnation， brought out a tarot deck, intending to 陀adeveryones fortune. If someone had produced a live tongue-Hicking cobra and proposed we all handle it, I don't think Ray would have been any less terrified. He forbade our hostess to 陀admycards 叩1h a desperation that made you believe in 白te，and befo陀 she knew what wぉ happening we we陀 intoourc，伺凶 andout 出ed∞E

Ray had a strange 陀lationship 10 luck, to fate, which he loved to t回t with fishing, by a turn at the racetrack now and again, or at poker witll friends. But let onebadsign 陀arits head in 出erest of his life and he was away like a groom blundering into an undertakers' conｭvention. No machine that let him down in tIlose postｭdrinking days ever got a second chance. If the car sputｭte陀dor the dishwasher missed a cycle, out it went.

By the same token,“things" couldn't always ，でIyon him in tIlose days. It was as if 0句E岱e1uded him in their placid pretence of doing notlling. One day he took a borrowed pick-up to get some furniture that one of our friends had in 5to問geand was loaning to usーitseemedthe陀 we陀 manypeople in El Paso wi出 twoor three sets of everything. Ray arrived home with a chest of drawers which had one of the drawers missing. He'd heard of taping them shut but it just hadn't occurred to him. No way did he want to go back onto the freeway to see what

I7・

had befallen that missing drawer. “But that belongs to 釦meonee1se;'"1 argued. “We have to go back:' He didn't see it that waド But he reluctandy drove us to wherc we found it on. a curve, splintc陀d in a place or two but mosdy intact.

百le following day 1 glued the drawer together and 問自nished it. It wasn't pcrfect, but at least we didn't have a chest of draweI古川出 a brap. That day I sat Ray down for what he would have called “a serious talk:' I hadn't planned what I would say, but somehow I knew this was a no・fooling-around matter. “Listen: 1 said. “ I love you. I wouldn't be here if I didn't. But 1 did not come 4,000 milesacross thiscountry to get bad luck. My luck is good: 1 said, "and 1 want it to stay that way. You'd better change your luck:' 1 don't know what 1 thought I was doing-maybe t町ing to frighten him into a whole new way of life which had no room for the downward spirals he'd been caught in befo陀.1 hadn・t the least intention of lea吋ng， but 1 wasn't the daughter of a gambler for notlling, and I could tIlrow a bluff in a way 出at could make a mouth run drγwith certitude 山atI meant what 1 said. It was a risk that seems in 陀trospectto have paid 0庇Ray did change his luck. Or it changed all on its own.

But the luck of people in Carver Country might be said to be indigcnously and hopelessly bad. Their luck has always been bad from the beginning of time and maybe even befc況で time began, and its easy to feeJ tIlat no amount of threats or cajoling or solicitousness in their di陀ctionis ever going to bring it out ofits n�e dive. Still, people marooned in Carver Country are unde,' the impression that ultimately they will be 問wardedfor their patience and suffering. They somehow have been spared the truth that luck settles like a dominion on the worthy and the unwor山y， and that the only way it can be kept is by calling on it day and night with the insolence of the bottle for its genii. In the stories Ray wrote, their patience and longings a陀陀deemedas they themselves may never manage in life.

Once 如何ed his luck all 由ings did seem to come to him. During our first year he had thought he might never write again. Early in his sobriety he had even mistrusted his writing, had blamed it ゐr his drinking, and had believed, mistakenly, that it w部出e cause of his misfortunes-the drinking, the bankruptcies, the end of

his twenty-year marriage. Certainly his priorities were right: stay sober and everything else would take ca陀 ofitself. Gradually he saw伽t 1 was writing and d町idedtot可 itagain himself. By the time we'd moved from EJ pa釦toTuαon in 1980, wherモ 1 had ajob at the University of Arizona, he'd begun to draft the stories which wouJd become Whal 悦 TalkAboul When 悦 TalkAboul Love.

Hewas aJ50 たeJingstrong enough in his sobriety by then that he voJunteerでd to go to AA meetings with one of our friends who confessed he needed help. From time to time over the 陀stofhis life Ray wouJd help others by taking them to meetings, and the問主 no way to te1l how many writers and readers who'd connected wi由 hisescape from aJcoholism were helped by him through the mails. One such letter found its way to me after his death, and it seemed 50 indicative of the way Ray 陀achedouttoothers that we have included it in the text of this b∞k.

In our life together Ray gradually enterでdasenseof security and stability which had been denied him untiJ then. By 1981 we had a house in Syracuse which we'd bought together, a 四r that wasn・tb陀aking down eve町few days, teaching jobs at Syracuse University, and the stories Ray wぉ writing， which would become Ca伽'dral.the book which brought him nominations for the PuJitzer Prize and for the NationaJ Book CritiαCircJe Award. With this 加ok Rays work took on a new richness and dimension, what he saw as a mo陀 generous tenor. The spirituaJ and styJistic growth in this work delivered his writing from the diminishment of the term “minimaJist; which Ray had firmly 吋ected at the stan. He p陀ferredthe mo陀 accurate identi民cation of his styJe as that of a “precisionist:' And indeed, critics J∞king at the entirでbody of work since have seen the earlier period of W加tWe Talk Aboul When '"を Talk About Love as the most “ uncharacteristic" and Jeast representative period of Rays writing.

As削earsof sobriety and Jitera町 accomplishmentaccumulated, Ray's face lost an aJmost bloated vagueness ithadcaηied when I'd first met him. The jawline firmed up and the muscled pJaces, whe町 humorand a sense of confident well-being had come together, seemed to 陀sto陀 a you出ful mischief to his looks. He grモ'W， if possible, even mo陀 hand5Ome. His inner pride in himｭseJf made him enjoy Jooking his best. 1 became his barber

early on and cJipped away the 日uffy sideburns of his drinking days, got him to wear c10thes which fit, and ゐrhis fony-ninth birthday bought a leather jacket for a tri p to Paris, because, 1 had joked, 1 wanted him to look like Camus. But in April of 1987 when we walked hand in hand through �e st陀etsof Paris on our way to visit Ray's French publisher, ou印刷 friend ， Oli市r Cohen.on 山eBoule四rd St.-Germain, Ray 1∞ked Jike no one but himｭself-a man in full possession of his liた who knew his work was respected. Our love and confidence in each other ran Jike a current through it a1l.

The idea to manγhad been Rays. The impetus was the heartb陀aking news given by his doctor in Pon Angeles that tumors had once again invaded his lungs. Coming as it did, two monﾙls after radiation t陀atmen凶for the brain tumor, it demanded a1J of our spiritual 陀釦urces. 、情 had to 白ce 出e ぬct that our life toge山erwas ending, and yet find courage to Jive out of and beyond that cenain loss. Ray wasぉ brilliantabout imagｭinatively dealing with what was happening to us as the doctor had been at Chekhov's deaÙl, in thinking to send down for a boule of champagne when a less inspi陀dsonwould have persisted in sending for oxygen. "1'11 be a corpse by the time it arrives:' Chekhov had told his doctor, and the physician had then thought of ﾙle right gestu陀，bringing the celebration of the Jife forward at its moment of closu陀. This scene was given in Rays last story,“Errand; but with a Carver shift of emphasis from the doctor to the waiter who b吋ng富山echampagne.

So, after eleven years in which our loving had brought about a fusion of energies and spirit while allO'ゅing for our own identities apart from each other, we decided to celebrate our 陀lationship by marrying. We bought 巾gsand picked up our plane tickets, told a few cJose friends, our agent, and my family. Ray wrote to our friend. the p伺t HenryCarlile. 柏町出ewedding in Reno onJune 17, 1988, describing this alcove of stopped-time beautifully.

After the wedding at the Hean of Reno Chapel, aα'Oss from the courthouse, we went to Harrah's to celeｭbrate and 1 began a 出問e-daywinning streak at rouJette. 快 threw ourselves into those days and since there were noclocks to 陀mind us.lost all track of time. 1 remember on the finaJ morning,just before leaving Ballys (the hotel whe陀 we'd stayed), trying to convince Ray to come with me ゐr a last throw at roulette. 1 had wanted Ray ωbe

18.

ended up under the deck on lheir kne田 t可ing 10 calCh lhe Cal and deliver him to safety. Then there was a moment on film wher官， reaffirming our commitment befo陀耐en出， we benl 10 each olher and kissed，出 wehad at our marriage in Reno, long and deeply, while eveηone raised their glasses in a toast.

IfI ωuld addo叩n問吋eof Ray，メ" it would be s叩omethi加ng imposお羽s説ible tωos由how in phot悶.ogrヨ却phs一his infecαtiou凶』路s la剖:ug酔h斑も舵加胤er飢I巴: In his y'戸'ears wi凶t出h me由ehous犯ewaおsfulloft山hiおslaught館e巳 whichc臼ameoutofhim as aslo陀d-up gladness, a hilarity 出al ignited SpOIトtaneously while he talked on lhe phone 10 而ends， or副in his bathrobe 陀ading aloud from a letter, or just in lhose domestic moments of companionship where hisl0-ries have been回 absorbed 山atthe humors mix playfully into some heady and ra陀 concoction of twin joyfulness When 1 think “never again" of that beautiful sound that was most him for me, 1 have to be crushed, crushed and uplifted at once. Crushed because it is l!∞ beautiful. Uplifted because it is ~∞ beautiful to sacrifice to moumｭing, bUl m山t be 1陀asu陀d as that individual b町ath he was, entrusted 10 all who shared rooms and hearts with that laughter while he lived. And now again in the 問自民­tions and imagl白 whichjoin us back to him he陀.

』晶E-SEE22tE瞳喜主

with me, as ifthat final casting ofthe dice weIで for him, and be臼凶e， in some uncanny w略 1 had known the good fortune of what would happen beゐ陀 it happened. But Ray had already let go of his gambling days and would only h必heartedly play a few slots later at 出eairport.ln some rightn回sofhis own, he wouldn't go into 出ecasino again. He p向島rredωstand wi山 our luggage, his arms heaped with wedding flowers which had been wi陀d to us by friends abroad, lipped off about the marriage by our agent, Amanda Urban. 1 hadn't been able to leave the flowers behind.

When Ray saw me running across the casino wi出my hands full of cash he began to brighten and ωshout to me,“Did you do it, hon? Did you win, babe?" The H側'ersweIで crushedbetween us as he hugged me to him in his excitement. “We'll miss our bus~ he said in the next b陀ath. “Forget the bus~ 1 said. “、fVe'，で takinga taxW

Oαu川e叩nd S拘伽W切刷刷n叫耐le刊yバKun而巾帆itRay内's death 出a剖1 h恥e couldn't I陀でcalla加ny writer or ar凶d出s幻t

during his lif島et“imewho had been so genuinely mourned a俗s Ray wお. Besides the plain fact of Ra内 genius being gone from the world, part of this outpouring was no doubt due to the fact that Ray w部 soyoung-ba陀Iyfifty.¥¥'e had all expec股d and hoped for many mo陀 years of his writing and company. It was a life cut shon, and we suffe陀d the loss as it was-an abeηation， a blow, a chastisement to us all in our faulty部sumptions about 出efuture, abQut mor凶ity and the tums of faほ after long stru毘le.

BUl 1055 of Ray seemed to go beyond even 山eprematu陀 factofit. He was beloved, and luckily he knew 出is， which somehow extends the benevolence of his p問sence mo陀 su問ly among us than if he had left in a state of sel f..banishment, as have some writers. Ray Iived his lasl weeks and days in an u弔ency ofα-eation ， workｭing against the shadows and haltings ofhis own加dyasitbegan to finally 原町 wayto the cancer, just managing to complete his final book.

On that last day of his life we played a video tape of the small, intimate wedding 町民ption we'd held wilh familyand friends in Port Angeles after our 陀tum from Reno. We laughed at some of the celebration antics durｭing the party, including the 白cape of our Persian cat, Blue, into raα∞n territo可・ MY sister and mother had

19・