I only had time to read a few of the stories in this collection, and I would have loved to have had more time with it (I had a library copy - and not much time...) ( )

Last Stories is the final, posthumous collection of short stories by the Irish master, William Trevor. Drenched in melancholy and the aching nuances of regret, Trevor serves up ten stories that are as foreign to my own life experience as could be. A few even left me totally confused by what the story was about. I would have rated this book 3 stars, but Trevor does something with these tales that leaves me both satisfied by his intricate descriptions of ordinary lives sub-optimally lived, as well as bewildered by the details he leaves out.

As foreign as are the lives and choices of these stories' characters, I almost always find some strand of empathy for what they endure and how they respond to their challenges -- or pity for their failure to do so -- that compels me to continue reading Trevor's writing. These stories bother me. The desperation and poor judgment of these characters bother me. The mundanities are maddening. Yet in all these sketches of inner lives, I catch reflections of universal emotions in a shared humanity that makes us not so different from one other, whether we are in Ireland or America, the 1950s or the 2020s, wealthy or poor, in good health or ill, happy in our relationships or not, and more.

It gives me gratitude for my life, for my wife and family, for the joy I feel in doing all I can to provide for their comfort and happiness, and for the joy they bring me in our ordinary life. It's a life that is, thankfully, filled with a contentment that is not found in the pages of Last Stories. ( )

William Trevor was on another level. His stories feel as if they reveal subtleties of humanity and human behavior that most of us are unaware even exist. A “genius” piano student steals small items from his teacher. She tolerates it, bowing to his talent. Two brothers, honest but not truthful, paint a house where a death has gone unreported. A woman working as a prostitute steals from a man with dementia who may not even be aware.

Several of the stories here examine hearts gone astray. A man leaves his wife and daughters for the woman he tutored years ago, then returns to his family. A cleaning girl no one knows much about seemingly commits suicide and one of her clients believes it’s because she was in love with the client’s son. Two childless women appear to target motherless girls to convince them that one of the women is their mother.

Not everything is as it seems and deep emotional damage is caused by the decisions of the characters. But there’s no sense of judgement of their actions. More of a reportage, which makes the impact stronger. A fine collection which appears to be the final one of a long career. Fortunately William Trevor has left behind many, many words of exquisite writing. ( )

Really wonderful writing, some stories were so subtle though I fear I may have missed something. ( )

A collection of mature, elegiac, very sad stories of loss. A master of the short story, but I found the grim tone of his final collection dispiriting. ( )