The Trevoeuvre in Review
On September 21, 2021, I published the introduction to the William Trevor Reader here at The Millions. Today, I’m publishing the conclusion.
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The William Trevor Reader: “Kathleen’s Field”
“Kathleen’s Field” feels as though it might have been written by an AI Trevor bot.
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The William Trevor Reader: “Children of the Headmaster”
Trevor’s body of work issues a kind of blanket vote of no-confidence in men: on the male project, on the male ego, on male desire.
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The William Trevor Reader: “August Saturday”
As seems true for these later Trevor tales, despite the inherent drama of the setup, the story ends as mutely as possible.
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The William Trevor Reader: “Coffee with Oliver”
If we choose to write about a delusional character, we should probably try to grant them a rare moment of lucidity.
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The William Trevor Reader: “A Husband’s Return”
Despite being presently out of fashion, Trevor was both prescient and influential.
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The William Trevor Reader: “In Love with Ariadne”
What stands out to me in this story is Trevor’s deft use of detail.
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The William Trevor Reader: “The Printmaker”
In the Trevoeuvre, the idea of sex and romance, I suppose, can be as lastingly damaging as actual abuse is in our reality.
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The William Trevor Reader: “Honeymoon in Tramore”
In the intervening 50 or so stories, Trevor has taught us well enough how to read him.
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The William Trevor Reader: “The Third Party”
This is what great stories do—they pursue great endings.
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The William Trevor Reader: “A Trinity”
It is a long-held position of mine that it’s nearly impossible for a completely humorless writer to be good.
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The William Trevor Reader: “Family Sins”
Fingers crossed, with 10 stories remaining, “Family Sins” will be the last of a type of first-person story in The Collected.
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The William Trevor Reader: “Events at Drimaghleen”
This might actually win the award for the bleakest story in the 'Collected.'
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The William Trevor Reader: “Virgins”
People are busy and life is difficult, and it’s asking a lot to get through half of a narrative before being told why it really matters.
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The William Trevor Reader: “The Smoke Trees of San Pietro”
The first paragraph paints a prelapsarian portrait so vivid and brightly burnished that it feels like a glimpse over the locked back gate of Eden.
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The William Trevor Reader: “Two More Gallants”
What I sense is Trevor having fun fucking around, making a story out of a Joyce story, and that's enough for me.
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The William Trevor Reader: “Bodily Secrets”
This is one of about 10 stories in the 'Collected' that stand as an example of formal perfection.
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