If an author commands such a reputation that the late Susan Sontag
waited impatiently for his new books, you read his work with a sense of
anticipation, and more than a little expectation that you are in for a treat.
In this collection of short stories Last
Night, James Salter certainly doesn’t disappoint. Last Night contains ten stories detailing the lives of a range of
urban characters. Key relationships of many of the characters are in the
process of dissolution, through neglect, desire or death. In each story the
lives are revealed with subtlety and power, so that you close the book having
been profoundly moved. These are not romantic feel-good stories written to
entertain or amuse. They are stories of piercing observation that spare nothing
in revealing the emotional worlds of their protagonists. Salter is equally
capable of taking a male or female point of view, something that provides the
reader with a depth of perspective and a sense that in a single series of
events there are a range of stories.

In Comet, the middle aged
Phillip endures his wife Adele’s drunken and overly revealing conversation at a
dinner party, then her protestations as he seeks a moment’s solitude gazing at
the night sky. As Adele finally reels towards the house Phillip is left to his
thoughts, and the reader to contemplate how a life can unwind. It is this
ability to evoke an experience rather than simply describe it that makes this
collection such rewarding reading.

Salter is adept at telling stories of deception. In Platinum, Brule is engaged in a
passionate affair with a younger woman, Pamela. The affair is accidentally
revealed when Brule, against his better judgment, agrees to lend Pamela a pair
of earrings. But this revelation is only the beginning of a series of
deceptions that maintain the impetus of the story until the final paragraph. Give also shows the effects of deception
as Anna asks her husband to make an unenviable decision. By the time we reach
that point of the story Salter has shown the point of view of both main
characters, so we feel the intensity of the dilemma from both perspectives. It
is this sort of lightness of touch that allows the reader to experience the
pain of the characters without judging them for their mistakes or foibles.

Desire is another of Salter’s themes. When in My Lord, You the drunken poet Brennan intrudes on Deems’s dinner
party the effect on Deems’s wife Ardis is anything but offputting. Brennan’s
dog provides a surrogate in a relationship that always seems on the point of
consummation. Ardis even enters his house, reads from his letters, then
partially undresses. But she hurriedly covers up when she hears the sound of
car tires on the gravel outside. The sense of a forbidden zone, alluring and
dangerous, pervades these stories. In Bangkok
Hollis is innocently preoccupied with his work as a bookseller when his past
intrudes in the form of Carol. Hollis protests, parrying Carol’s offer of a
holiday with her and her female friend with the unconvincing protestation that
he is blissfully happy in his marriage. In the end he is left wondering if he
lives a pretend life, but committed to it nonetheless.

The title story Last Night is
a perfectly poised tale of love and loss. The tension is palpable throughout
and the ending verges towards horror. Salter gives just enough detail to
capture the intense feelings of Walter, Marit and Susanna, but never intrudes
on the reader’s view. You’re left to make what you will of the decisions taken
and their consequences.

Salter’s stories are highly crafted, with language that does just
enough to reveal the characters and evoke their lives. They are deeply
engaging, poignant and often troubling; sure to reward contemplation and
rereading. They stand out in a literary world in which the novel rules, aptly
demonstrating Frank O’Connor’s maxim that the short story is the most difficult
and complete narrative medium. This collection is highly recommended.

©
2005 Tony O’Brien

Tony O’Brien is a short story
writer and lecturer in mental health nursing at the University of Auckland, New
Zealand: a.obrien@auckland.ac.nz

Categories: Fiction