Feathers by Raymond Carver

After writing last week about the bitter feelings of regret that permeate Ernest Hemingway's "The Snows of Kilimanjaro,” I found myself wanting to explore this emotion from a different angle. My choice this week is "Feathers” by Raymond Carver, a story that is both odd and deeply moving.

"Feathers” opens Carver's 1983 collection Cathedral. I have had this book for years and have read some of the stories, but I had never read this one until now. Carver, a master of the short story, is similar to Hemingway in that his writing is deceptively simple. Meaning is hidden below the surface. But Carver is a more down-to-earth writer who centers his fiction on the quietly devastating lives of ordinary people.

The narrator of "Feathers" is Jack, who is recalling a long-ago dinner that he and his wife, Fran, had at the home of another couple, Bud and Olla. Bud is his friend and co-worker, and the dinner marks the first time he and Bud have met each other's wives. The night is life-changing for Jack and Fran, although they don't recognize it at the time.

In "The Snows of Kilimanjaro," the failed writer Harry realizes on his deathbed that he has wasted his artistic talent in exchange for a life of ease. In "Feathers," Jack's regret is much more inchoate. There is no particular decision he wishes he could undo. It's more of a nagging acceptance that life is less than he hoped it would be.

In "Feathers," Raymond Carver explores the profound effects of an ordinary evening.

Most of the story takes place in Bud and Olla's house. Jack is delighted to accept the invitation to dinner, while Fran is annoyed, which offers an early clue about the tensions in their marriage. When they arrive, they encounter a strange scene. Bud and Olla trot out what is, in Jack's words, the ugliest baby he's ever laid eyes on. They have a pet peacock who bounces around on the roof and is later allowed inside to cavort with the baby. They also say grace before the meal, an entirely foreign practice to Jack and Fran. Jack also can't help but compare the plain, pudgy Olla to Fran, who is tall and blonde.

What I loved about this story is how wonderfully rich the characters of Bud and Olla turn out to be. One of the first things that Fran spots on their living room shelf is a plaster impression of Olla's teeth. Olla displays the mold out of deep appreciation for Bud, who early in their relationship paid for her to get braces. Fran is both grossed out by this memento yet also finds it transfixing. The peacock is another of Bud's simple yet grand romantic gestures. Olla always loved peacocks, so he bought her one.

Jack and Fran experience a range of emotions as they witness their hosts' quiet contentment and genuine love for one another and their child. Jack shares that he never felt happier than amid this chaotic domestic bliss, while by the end of the night Fran has begrudgingly softened toward the other couple. After they drive home, Jack and Fran impulsively decide to start a family. The story concludes years later, with Jack poignantly acknowledging that he tried but could never duplicate the warmth he encountered at Bud and Olla's. His marriage has frayed and Fran's good looks have withered, while the child they conceived the night of the dinner party "has a conniving streak in him."

In this story, Carver quietly and skillfully depicts Jack's hazy sense of regret, which is on a completely different register from Hemingway's. We only see Fran through Jack's eyes, but she too has regrets. And unlike Jack's, hers are fully formed: she blames Bud and Olla "and that smelly bird" for allowing her to get carried away and setting her on a life path she now resents.

Please join me next time when I take up a third piece that touches on this emotion from yet another angle.