On reading William Trevor's The Table

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For previous installments of my analysis of William Trevor’s The Collected Stories, please see the side bar. That said, in “The Table,” Trevor deconstructions both stereotype and familial structure. The primary focus of the piece comes in the form of Mr. Jeffs who buys a table from Mrs. Hammond, playing on her emotions and embarrassment at the time, only to sell the very same table back to the woman’s husband, but this time as a gift for Mrs. Galbally, a woman Mrs. Hammond seemingly does not know. At each step he makes a handsome set of money and is openly pleased by the transactions. While the details of all of these relationships remain hidden, the antique dealer concocts elaborate stories to satisfy his otherwise empty life. He needs satisfaction, he needs something to push him forward and maintain his existence: “‘I understand you Mrs. Hammond. I understand all that. I will trade anything on God’s earth, Mrs. Hammond, but I understand that’” (68). Thus he sees both his isolation and his presence as a self-perceived omniscient man. In his mind, he is a judge of sorts.

While a rather simple plot, the focal point is with the antique dealer himself. Mr. Jeffs stands as the stereotypical, Jewish antique dealer. He is portrayed as money grumbling, and seems mostly obsessed with the making the next buck and the next deal. Nothing occupies his life more than work and thus he finds himself living a life that rests only in those enterprises: “Mr. Jeffs saw the figure of himself standing alone in his large Victorian house. Nothing was permanent in the house, not a stick of furniture remained there month by month. He sold and bought again. He laid no carpets, nor would he ever” (67). Mr. Jeffs, who wants to be more, finds that he has nothing to be more with, and in this fact Trevor captivates his reader as he drives them through the man’s wheeling and dealing. Each deal rests in rules. There is money to collect here based on custom and commission. Privacy here, privacy there. And while Mr. Jeffs is privy to all sides of this elaborate table sale and the fictions he has made up to entertain himself, he will not break from custom and constantly seeks fiscal compensation to satisfy rules and regulations: “Mr. Jeffs, sorrowfully, decided to drive round to tell Mrs. Hammond, so that he could collect what little was owing him” (65). Even though he bought a table from her, sold it to another, and then failed to buy it back from the other party for her, he must charge Mrs. Hammond because rules are the locus to his existence.

With these facts in mind, Mr. Jeffs does not succeed in life, but rather struggles. He is mostly empty, he lives through the stories that he invents and the stories that accompany them. Everything is a fiction, an empty thought, a hindrance to true meaning and happiness: “‘I cook my own food,’ said Mr. Jeffs again. ‘I do not bother anyone’” (68). Each night he returns home to systemic emptiness without any true purpose. A home that generates nothing more than a self-loathing hatred.

On reading William Trevor’s Memories of Youghal

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For previous installments of my analysis of William Trevor’s The Collected Stories, please see the side bar. That said, “Memories of Youghal” bears similarities to “Access to the Children” as Trevor explores the past, particularly regrets and loss. Playing out on a resort deck, an introspective private detective by the name of Quillian spills his life story to Miss Ticher while waiting for the couple he is following to finish a romantic tryst. Quillian talks aimlessly about hit past. He dabbles in his trips to Youghal, on black iron bars, and his abusive Aunt and Uncle, surrogate parents in place of Quillian’s own—both drowned in a tragic incident. Quillian is the classic case of a person swimming in a sea of regret. Compounding his predicament is his total lack of self-worth. He doesn’t know who he is or why he is that way and thus constantly dwells on the focal point of his existence: his parents’ death. This focus leads to constant wander and thus constant ponderous regret: “‘Would I be a different type of man if the parents lived?’” (51). Unable to ever know his parents, for the passed away when he was only five months old, he describes them as the parents and not his parents. There is abject space, a space that intrudes on the man’s life and infects each of his interactions throughout the text.

At first Miss Ticher struggles to both stand and tolerate the Quillian, loathing his false teeth bouncing around in his mouth, hating the ill-fitting clothing, and his general garrulous nature. As the time passes and Quillian details his long list of failures, her character turns inward and revealing an unmarried woman who had given her entire life to teaching, a life that also tingles with regrets. Childless and nearing retirement, Miss Ticher vacations with her lifelong friend Miss Grimshaw. In truth only Miss Grimshaw is happy (if she even is), in control, and looking to live the life she wants. Such a life includes embarrassing her friend and controlling her. As she grimaces over her friend’s morning drink with a stranger, she plans out the elaborate teacher’s lounge embarrassment to come. Yet, this haughty victory is never fulfilled and will not be, for Miss Grimshaw observes a character change in her friend. Lacking the disinterest that existed early on in the conversation, by the end, Miss Ticher notes “‘How cruel the world is’” (55). Life does not unfold according to plan. Humans cannot and do not have a choice in every event that happens before them. There will be a break from Miss Grimshaw and perhaps even a finger point of blame for the chain of events in her life.

Closing their conversation, Miss Ticher notes: “‘I’m sorry,’ Miss Ticher said quietly. ‘I’m sorry your parents were drowned. I’m sorry you don’t like the work you do’”(53). This consolation digs into the crux of the problem: despite his past, despite her past, they cannot change the truth. Nor can the woman cheating on her husband who Quillian is following around for the weekend. Facts are facts, the past is the past, and Trevor cements these facts with each passing word.

On Reading William Trevor's The General’s Day Out

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“The General’s Day Out” is the third piece in William Trevor’s The Collected Stories. Much like with “Access to the Children” and “A Meeting in Middle Age,” Trevor uses the space to explore loss. In this piece, we focus on The General. This man holds himself in great esteem and expects those around him to treat him as such, yet at every turn, he is viewed like the unwanted, elderly grandfather. For what it is worth, The General strives for control. As a man of the military, he always seeks a systematic, purposeful existence. He is the man that wakes up and declares to his maid that he is going out to seek a lady and planning to bed that lady. Regardless of his personal desires, The General lacks the ability to carry out his plan or control his life in general: “He was beginning to feel low; the day was not good; the day was getting out of control” (36). A good day was a day he had by the horns, but at his age and current station: living as a single, elderly man in the English countryside with no local connections, these days do not occur often. He is no longer the man he used to be and the present can no longer deal with him: “The General smiled at some little joke. ‘I have not been myself for many years. Today is just another day’” (44). Like all days, he stumbles through, largely ignorant to community distaste and his current station in life.

In his opinion, military life had been kind to him, offered him a safe space, and a place to flourish. But in retirement he finds an existence devoid of both structure and glory. Thus he bounces around and expects the local populace to both revere and support him, something it is unwilling to do. In truth, they find the man to burdensome, irksome, and something that they strive to be rid of. In part, The General notices his awkwardness, his fall from grace, and even stares at it through his nakedness every morning, but then he puts his shell on, a shell he perceives to project excellence but only yields annoyance: “‘I do not like to offend people. I do not like to be a nuisance. You should have stopped me, sir’” (41).  He offends people left and right, chasing them off at each and every turn while maintaining his overall ignorance to his actions.

So The General demonstrates the hazards of aging and the loss of dignity. He will never be the man of his past again, he is now the man that Frobisher cannot stand: “‘Get the hell off my premises, you bloody old fool! ‘Go on, Suffolk, hop it’” (43). This man does not woo the women he encounters, he frightens them. He cannot instruct tennis at a girls’ school, because he had urges to instruct the girls in other matters. No one wants him, he is fully washed up and put out to pasture, only he has yet to come to grips with his new reality and where he will go from here.