A writer’s personal, emotional state is often reflected in his or her writing, and nowhere is this more apparent than in the case of Raymond Carver. Making Literature Matter offers us two of Carver’s stories; the first, entitled “The Bath”, is an original work, while the second, “A Small, Good Thing”, is a revision of the first. While Carver leaves the basic plot and characters mostly unchanged in his revision, he makes many changes that reflect his improved emotional state. Carver wrote “The Bath” in 1981, the final year of a marriage ruined by his alcoholism; the stark, distant, minimalist feel of this story reflects his attitude at this time, no doubt less than cheerful. “A Small, Good Thing” was written a mere 2 years later in 1983, and, while it retains the basic plot of “The Bath”, Carver replaces the story’s stark minimalism with a deeply descriptive, warm sincerity. It is of no small coincidence that this revision was completed at a time when Carver was beginning to turn his life around, successfully enrolling in Alcoholics Anonymous while beginning a new relationship with poet and short story writer Tess Gallagher, which was to last until his death in 1988. As Carver’s personal situation improved, it seems that his concern, and compassion, for his characters did as well.
One point in which these stories differ is the absence of proper names from “The Bath”. Save for Scotty and his mother Ann, whose names are both used sparingly, and the waiting room family’s Nelson, mentioned exactly three times, nobody else is given a proper name. There are “the doctor”, “the baker”, “the husband”, “the woman”, and a number of other characters with similarly vague descriptions, but Carver does not tell us their names, creating a distant feeling. It is as if the reader is viewing this scene from a distance, only aware of the most prominent characters’ names, those of the mother and her dying son, while the rest exist mostly in the background. This omission of names may not have been so prominent if not for the complete reversal of “A Small, Good Thing”, in which everybody, even the dog, Slug, has a name. The doctor is now “Dr. Francis”, the husband is now “Howard”, and the formerly anonymous mother in the hospital waiting room is “Evelyn”. The few who aren’t named are given at least some description, which is much more than similar side characters like “the nurse” are given in “The Bath”, such as the orderlies who come with Dr. Parsons to run tests on Scotty; “They were black-haired, dark complexioned men in white uniforms, and they said a few words to each other in a foreign tongue”, Carver describes them. He also assigns them as the only ones to give a sign of knowing the bleak truth of Scotty’s condition, as Carver says, “The orderlies stood at either end of the gurney without saying anything, though once one of the men made a comment to the other in their own language, and the other man nodded slowly in response”, as they secretly let us know things don’t look good for Scotty.
The naming of characters brings the reader closer in to the story, as opposed to the distant, almost voyeuristic, perspective of “The Bath”, as the characters are not only given names, but are called by them consistently throughout the piece, reinforcing that these are “real” people with “real” emotions. With “A Small, Good Thing”, Carver replaces the cold austerity of “The Bath” with a warmth of emotion that changes the entire feel of the story. Take, for example, Ann’s initial encounter with the baker, the first scene in both stories. In “The Bath”, we are presented with a very bare description of a woman ordering a cake, as Carver describes it, “No pleasantries, just this small exchange, the barest information, nothing that was not necessary”, we are certainly not given any type of insight into what the baker or Ann is really thinking outside of the immediate concern of buying a cake. This same scene in “A Small, Good Thing” presents us with significantly more information about these two people, as the baker “kept his eyes down on the photograph and let her talk. He let her take her time. He’d just come to work and he’d be there all night, baking, and he was in no real hurry”, which, in contrast with his description in “The Bath”, is a great deal more information.
We now know that he sees himself as a basically polite man, and that he works many hours at the bakery, probably many more than he would like. In addition to this, Carver gives us Ann’s reaction to the baker, which is largely one of displeasure. “The baker was not jolly…He made her feel uncomfortable, and she didn’t like that”, we are told, and she proceeds to wonder about the baker’s life, if he had ever done anything else besides be a baker, if he had any children, and it seems that she is trying to find a connection with this man, something they have in common. Someone the baker’s age- a man old enough to be her father- must have children who’ve gone through this special time…There must be that between them, she thought.” This is much more information than we are given in “The Bath”, as we now have a tentative picture of these two personalities, the quiet, overworked baker who takes little pleasure in his work, and Ann, the housewife who knows little of work and becomes offended easily, as she is by the baker’s “coarse features”, but who is basically well meaning in a naïve sort of way. This trend of increased emotional description extends throughout “A Small, Good Thing”, lending to it’s much more intimate feel, and we can now understand these people in a way that was not possible with the very limited details of “The Bath”.
Perhaps most interesting in terms of Carver’s emotional state effecting his writing is the relationship of Ann and Howard, which goes from a sort of stiff politeness in “The Bath” to a deep caring in “A Small, Good Thing”. A good illustration of this is the scene just after Dr. Francis comes in the second time to tell them more of the same news; in “The Bath”, Howard’s responses to Ann amount to exactly ten words. “That could be it”, and, “I think you should do that”, are all he can say to his obviously distraught wife as they stand over the body of their comatose son. This same scene in “A Small, Good Thing” is much deeper emotionally, and shows a level of caring from Howard completely absent from “The Bath”, as Howard coaxes an exhausted Anne into going home to relax for a bit. “Just sit and rest for a little while when you get home. Eat something. Take a bath. After you get out of the bath, just sit for awhile and rest. It’ll do you a world of good…Let’s try not to worry. You heard what Dr. Francis said”, he tells his wife, among other things, and it seems that she obeys him because she believes his concern is genuine, while in “The Bath” one gets the impression that she leaves because she simply does not know what to do with herself. As I stated earlier, Carver had just moved from the final stage of a ruined marriage to a new life of sobriety, and a new relationship, which very well may have influenced this shift to a more understanding and compassionate attitude, especially in regard to Howard and Ann’s relationship.
Perhaps the one to benefit most from this heightened description is the baker, the central character in both stories, who Carver chose to keep nameless in his revision, perhaps to make him stand out against those connected to Scotty; though the baker is the main character in both stories he never learns the truth about Scotty in The Bath, and only finds out at the very end of A Small, Good Thing, as he is confronted by Ann, enraged over his harassing phone calls. He is completely separated from most of the story, save for his brief phone calls, as the action surrounding the accident takes place not only without his involvement, but without even his knowledge. All the baker knows is that he took the time to make a cake, and he ended up doing it for nothing when the woman who ordered it never picked it up. He is an angry baker. Our impression of him at the conclusion of each story is markedly different, though, owing to the fact that “The Bath” gives us essentially no conclusion, leaving us off in what seems to be the middle of the story. No doubt this was one of the reasons Carver saw it necessary to undertake a revision, and its ending proves to be much more fulfilling than that of the original story. As “The Bath” ends, we know nothing about the baker at all, except for a very bare physical description we aren’t told, nor do we learn through anyone else, anything about him, aside from the fact that he likes to make late-night phone calls to people that don’t pick up their cakes.
The baker, and his motivations, remain a mystery to us, and we are left with nothing but a sense of loathing for this man, as he seems to be simply tormenting this family for his own reasons, of which we are ignorant. At the conclusion of “A Small, Good Thing”, however, we are given the closure that seems necessary here, as the baker is allowed to explain himself and his behavior, and make an attempt at redemption. “Let me say how sorry I am,” he begins, “Listen to me. I’m just a baker. I don’t claim to be anything else…That don’t excuse my doing what I did, I know. But I’m deeply sorry”, he tells Ann and Howard as he pleads for forgiveness. The baker takes their coats, brings them coffee, and proceeds to feed them rolls and bread fresh from his oven; as they eat and drink, the baker talks with them “into the early morning, the high, pale cast of light in the windows, and they did not think of leaving”. This ending elicits sympathy for the baker, who acted hastefully out of spite, but not out of malice, and who must now come to terms with the pain he has caused. The baker redeems himself fully here, giving the couple what they needed most, and what he could best provide, good food and somebody to talk to.
There are many differences between these two stories, some small and some large. For example, the man who hits Scotty with his car does not even stop in “The Bath”, but he waits until Scotty gets up before driving away in “A Small, Good Thing”. Also, Howard drives home from the hospital faster than he knows is safe in the original story, but catches himself and slows down in the revision, in which Carver allows us to know Scotty’s fate. A shift in the emphasis on description, from minimalist to very full, especially regarding characters’ emotions, is the main difference between the two pieces, as well as a sense of closure, of which “The Bath” had none, but was worked perfectly in “A Small, Good Thing”, where the ending seems almost happy despite Scotty’s death. These changes seem perfectly in line with a man who is getting his life together, both physically and emotionally, going from bitter alcoholic divorcee, with the loneliness and alienation inherent in this state, to clean and in a new relationship, surely with a more sunny outlook on life. The feelings of distance, loneliness, and despair in “The Bath” have been replaced with those of warmth, compassion, and understanding in “A Small, Good Thing”, and this shows how a change for the better in Raymond Carver’s life led to the same in one of his stories.
