Last Night: Stories
by James Salter
In some ways the ten disturbing, compelling stories in Last Night are old-fashioned; men are manly, women are beautiful, and each one comes with a killer twist. Yet the stories' central themes - betrayal and the way it almost carelessly destroys the golden lives of the seemingly contented - are universal and timeless.
At the heart of betrayal lies all-consuming desire. In few words, Salter conveys the erotic charge between lovers, and the overwhelming obsession that takes hold of them. Attractions are elemental, base; women are described bluntly and sexually: 'She was still young enough to be good-looking, the final blaze of it … her wet swimmer's hair, the grace of her, all careless and unhurried'; 'Kathrin had long hair combed back dark from a handsome brow and a brilliant smile.'; ' In she had come, in a short black skirt and high heels, on her white neck an opaque, blue necklace.' Thin dresses cling to slim bodies in the breeze, breasts are 'gorgeous' and 'beautiful'.
Likewise, men are summarised briefly, but we come to know them all the same: 'In the light of the kitchen, he merely seemed dishevelled, like a jounalist who has been working all night. The unsettling thing was the absence of reason in him, his glare'; 'The groom was no taller than she was and slightly bowlegged with a wide jaw and winning smile. He was lively and well-liked.'
As these men and women succumb to desire they are overwhelmed, both by their own feelings and each other: 'Deliberately, without thinking, she began to remove her clothes. She went no further than the waist. She was dazzled by what she was doing'; the aforementioned groom experiences 'days of desire so deep that it left him empty-legged'.
Of course there is a price to pay for such passion, and Salter does not shirk from this. Hearts hammer and skip in fearful anticipation of discovery; outright accusations bring on unexpected reactions: 'It was as if Brian had been asked a bewildering question, the answer to which he should know. His thoughts were fluttering, however, ungraspable.' Equally, the wronged party suffers: 'Arthur didn't know what to say; his thoughts were skipping wildly, like scraps of paper in a wind.'
Salter's writing, then, is visceral, and masculine in a way that younger writers tend to eschew, but it is also tender and voluptuous. Actions have consequences, those who take lovers are almost invariably caught, and the fallout from infidelity is severe. Salter is not judgmental, which is perhaps why his writing - like an endlessly looping soundtrack - induces an almost mesmeric desire in the reader to plough on and on, despite knowing intuitively that each story will end in bitterness.
Publisher: Picador






