Assignment for the Seventh Week

I chose to read “Cathedrals” by Raymond Carver for this week’s assignment. I have long been a fan of Carver’s writing. It is sparse writing, often with some unsavory characters, and a violence that is more subtle than obvious (actually, “Tell the Women We’re Going” is one of those stories that has always stuck in my head because of the overt violence, and though I hated the characters of that story, it is what made me fall in love with Carver). I like “Cathedrals” because it is simple and subtle, just an evening when a blind man is visiting the protagonist’s wife. But, within this awfully simple premise, there is a world rife with anger and resentment and feelings of inadequacy, of unrequited longing. The protagonist isn’t bad or wrong or evil; he exhibits the same consequences of the small and damaging thoughts we tend to tell ourselves as fallible, petty humans. Because Carver is so good at showcasing the mundane in heightened tones, “Cathedrals” takes the common occurrence of meeting a spouse’s friend and turns it into a metamorphosis.

The tension between the two men, specifically on the protagonist’s side, is thick throughout the story. The narrator is largely just a non-committal, judgmental asshole; why wouldn’t you just be present and show up for your wife?! How silly and small is he that he doesn’t want to be in the same room as a blind man?! There’s this slow roll of pushing, pulling between the two, although Robert (the blind man) doesn’t seem to fall into the sparring. And Robert is aware of the unstated conflict. He wants to make it work with the narrator. Otherwise, why would he ask the narrator to describe a cathedral to him? And then, when Robert puts his hand on top of the narrator’s—BAM! What a moment! It’s an anticlimactic climax. Understated and pregnant with anticipation.

I love the story so because of that dance between the two men, as well as the mundanity of the story. And I love that there is a deep intimacy that occurs with physical touch between the two men after they were sussing each other out. Here is this blind man, totally at the mercy of his hosts, and a husband who feels slighted, left out, scared of that which is unknown. The two of them have a vulnerability throughout the story and when that touch happens, the vulnerability is transformed into connection. There is a bond. One of the final paragraphs: “So we kept on with it. His fingers rode my fingers as my hand went over the paper. It was like nothing else in my life up to now”—it’s almost like the world has finally cracked open and the petty, tiny feelings of inadequacy, embarrassment, and jealousy stemming from the narrator have evaporated. If it wasn’t for Robert, a blind man a few years older than the narrator, the narrator would still be stuck in the patterns of his daily life.

As for the major dramatic question of “Cathedrals,” there are a few options here: will the narrator, the husband, stop being selfish (a royal asshat, if we’re talking about a clinical diagnosis)? Will the two men find common ground? Will the protagonist draw a cathedral? As I contemplate these questions while reading, I do wonder why Carver wrote this story. I remember reading somewhere that this was one of his favorite stories. Why? What did he learn from writing it? In one of my writing books by Natalie Goldberg, Ms. Goldberg quotes another writing saying something along the lines of a reader reads to get to know the author better. I would say, a writer also writes to know themselves better. From the little I know of Carver, he was a recovering alcoholic. He died very young. If his stories are an embellished account of his own misgivings, insecurities, and desires, maybe “Cathedrals” was therapy for Carver, a way of finding connection. Who knows? It’s fun to think about though, isn’t it?