William Trevor was a fine writer of short stories. I like short stories that unfold slowly, and the good ones can do that because they are simple. The heart of the story is usually a short paragraph, maybe a couple of sentences.
Trevor’s “The Hill Bachelors” is a portrait of Irish bachelors.
After the funeral, it’s understood that Paul, the only bachelor in the family, must take over the farm. Mom, 68, can’t manage. But there’s a problem: Young women don’t want to live in the hills. Here’s how Trevor puts it:
Paulie harbored no resentment, not being a person who easily did: going back to the farmhouse was not the end of the world. The end of the world had been to hear, in Meagher’s back bar, that life on a farm did not attract Patsy Finucane.
Our hero is stuck, but he won’t sell out to a neighbor. And so the hills, unchanging like Irish bachelors, claim another one of their own.
I’m marking a birthday. Trevor was born on May 24, 1928 in Mitchelstown, Ireland. He died in 2016.
• Source: William Trevor, Selected Stories; New York: Viking, 2010. And, if you’re curious about “Marking the day,” see “An activity in lieu of making resolutions,” Dec. 31, 2021.
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