3 Things Gordon Lish Did Right by Raymond Carver

Victoria

Wow, it’s been years since the New Yorker magazine published the original editing job Gordon Lish did on Raymond Carver’s short story, “Beginners.”

You may or may not have heard about the fracas surrounding that publication. And even if you’ve read some of Carver’s work, you might not recognize this particular short story.

That’s because, although it was Carver’s big story—the title of which was given to the story collection that made Carver’s name—it wasn’t Carver’s title.

Lish is the one who named it “What We Talk About When We Talk About Love.”

Now, I’m not a huge fan of Carver’s work, and not only because this particular story is the story of an argument about whether or not battering is ‘love.’ All of us who’ve worked at Battered Women’s Shelters already know the answer to that one, so reading an argument about it is a lot like listening to smokers argue about whether or not cigarette-smoking is dangerous to your health.

Yeah. Not really debatable anymore, guys.

However, it is true that Lish did an enormous amount in his Line Editing to tighten, focus, and illuminate the power inside Carver’s story.

Let’s look at the very first sentence:

My friend Mel Herb McGinnis, a cardiologist, was talking. Mel McGinnis is a cardiologist, and sometimes that gives him the right.

Okay, aside from the random altering of the character’s name—which is complete nonsense—what did Lish do?

  1. Lish removed the distracting information

    The defining term ‘a cardiologist’ is completely unnecessary to that first sentence and,through being unnecessary, detracts from its power. How? By distracting the reader from the point.

    The point is that Herb/Mel was talking.

    All stories should be written in exactly the right words and no others. This means all unnecessary words—words that do not lead inevitably to the point—should be cut.

    Ruthlessly. Mercilessly. With eyes closed if that’s the only way.

    But cut.

  2. Lish saw the remote connection inside the distracting information

    And this is a really fascinating thing.

    If the point of the first sentence is that the main character is talking, then what should we do about that interesting-but-distracting detail, the fact that he’s a cardiologist?

    Specific details are almost always gold. The question is:

    • does this detail add to or detract from the point of the story?

    As it happens, cardiology doesn’t have anything to do with the point of the story. The story’s about battering, not cardiology. The only aspect of cardiology even remotely connected to the point of the story is that both love and cardiology have to do with the heart.

    But it’s still an interesting piece of telling detail. And that remote connection does exist.

    So Lish kept it. In fact, he actually gave it its own sentence in order to highlight it. Then. . .

  3. Lish gave the information meaning

    The way he did this was to add a tiny bit of exposition that, in context, appears to be a non sequitur.

    Non sequitur is incredibly intriguing stuff. Fiction itself, if constructed properly, can be based nearly entirely on what appears on the surface to be non sequitur.

    In this case, what gives the sentence meaning is the juxtaposition of the information “cardiologist” with the rather surprising news that being a cardiologist gives you “the right.”

    The right to what?

    Apparently the right to talk.

    But it can’t be that simple! We all know lots of people who have the right to talk who aren’t anything even remotely like a cardiologist.

    What could Lish possibly mean by “the right”?

    Suddenly Lish has us thinking. He has us thinking and guessing and—most important of all—curious about where he’s going. So we keep reading.

    Bingo for Gordon Lish!

    And that curiosity leads us (without any prodding by the writer) to epiphany about the remote connection between:

    • cardiology
    • what we talk about when we talk about love

    (hint: it’s not medical school)

Remember what that remote connection is?

Does your own epiphany tell you why it matters to readers?

UPDATE: By the way, I’ve been reminded that I talk about the whole concept of Line-Editing in more depth on my Indie Editor’s FAQ.

UPDATE 2014: I know—the New Yorker took down the webpage that held Lish’s edit of Carver’s story. Bummer about that. I wish I’d thought to copy it while it was still up. As it is, all I have is this tiny snippet here. If anybody actually did think to copy it while it was still up, I would love to see it!