The William Trevor Reader: “Another Christmas”
Something that occurs to me at times, reading Trevor’s fiction, is the value of boredom in fiction. Trevor’s narrative style is often described—including by me in this column—as calm, stately, quiet. This sometimes feels euphemistic: his stories can be slow and boring, though never dull.
“Another Christmas” is, for about half its duration, a pretty slow ride. Middle-aged Irish couple Norah and Dermot—unusually, their last name is elided—sit around one December evening in their London home, waiting
