His style certainly isn’t showy, but one can see the hand of a master molding a thought to its simplest shape without reducing the detailed textures. It is in the textures that these stories excel. This collection of twelve stories had the subtle style I expected, but I must have been paying closer attention because time and again I was seduced by Trevor’s quiet insights. And, notwithstanding my misgivings, something must have emanated from the stories, or I hoped to suddenly become more perceptive, because I am still attracted to his work and have high expectations that someday his writing and I will develop a strong relationship. Don’t worry, Trevor lovers, I’ve always considered myself at fault. For me, his stories have tended to be so subtle as to appear pointless.
Sadly, much of my experience with him has left me, probably rightly, feeling rather dumb.
I have always wanted to like William Trevor’s stories more than I actually like them. After all, Trevor is venerated as one of the greatest short story writers of all time - or perhaps I want to like him more because of the charming, wise smile on his now 82-year-old face he just looks like someone I should listen to. Cheating at Canasta by William Trevor (2007) Penguin Books (2008) 240 pp
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