The New Yorker: Fiction cover image

Sherman Alexie Reads Raymond Carver

The New Yorker: Fiction

CHAPTER

Sherman Alexey, Where I'm Calling From

raymond carver calls sherman alexey from frank martin's drying out facility. J p is first and foremost a drunk, but he's also a chimney sweep. He wants to use his hands when he talk, but his hands tremble. i tell him the shakes will idle down; it takes time. We've only been in here a couple of days. We're not of the woods yet.

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