The Hartleys by John Cheever, the short story that shifted my perspective on literature

If you've read this short story, you know what I'm referring to

I was on a plane to Salt Lake City from Los Angeles when I first read the story in question. It’s a short flight, an hour, hour and a half. It was my fourth or fifth flight out there for work. I had, with me, The Stories of John Cheever, it was a copy from the 80s. Old, beat up, faded, had that lovely old book smell in the pages, all eight hundred and nineteen of them. I’m reading through the first stories of the collection, which are light-hearted, if not somewhat somber in moments. But they went down easy enough.

And then I get to The Hartleys. By the time we landed, I’d read it three times.

The Hartleys (Mr & Mrs Hartley, and their seven-year-old daughter Anne) arrive to a ski lodge, one Mr and Mrs Hartley had stayed eight years prior. Mr Hartley remembers that first time fondly and is hopeful for this one, though it’s clear Mrs Hartley would rather be anywhere else.

The family spends several days skiing. Mr and Mrs Hartley ski without challenge. Their daughter Anne, however, cannot ski and watches while her parents ski. She asks her father to show her. She favors her father’s attention over her mother’s, she simply adores him. Mr Hartley spends limited time with Anne before passing her to a ski instructor to teach her so he and Mrs Hartley can ski some trails, though as soon as her parents are out of sight, Anne ditches the lesson and waits at the ski lodge for her father to return.

The days fill with Mr & Mrs Hartley dropping Anne with the ski instructor and skiing the trails without their daughter.

Guests, over the course of the Hartley’s stay, observe the family as, possibly, suffering some loss before the story properly begins. The relationship between husband and wife is stifled, disconnected. It appears the trip is an attempt at reconnection. There is an unease between the family, which grows, despite the family’s attempt to blend in and enjoy themselves.

Mrs Hartley is seen as anxious toward kindness. The lack of attention she receives from her daughter, and seeing it given to Mr Hartley, starts an argument between husband and wife one evening. Mrs Hartley cries out why do we have to come back to these places where we thought we were happy, and wonders what good it’ll do them, and even questions why they were ever married to begin with. The reader is left to believe there was some cataclysm in their marriage that nearly brought them to separation.

The following day, Mr Hartley takes Anne up and down the slopes, all morning and all afternoon, while Mrs Hartley is left to watch. Anne is in such elation, finally getting to spend time with her father, who shows her how to use the ski tow, which is a motorized cable skiers hold on, which tows them up the mountain (in lieu of a ski lift). That afternoon, Anne skiing with her father, is described as beautiful. The snow is perfect, the sky is clean.

Then the story becomes one of dread and tragedy strikes, which I won’t spoil here. I encourage you to read the story. Mr. Cheever was an author committed to honesty in his writing, and the ending is where his commitment shines, albeit brutally. Cheever leaves us with a sense of unease and lingering questions. And yet, this unresolved conclusion feels undeniably authentic, mirroring the complexities of real life.

For me, the story shows us chasing the happier years of our lives, which have long gone, is destructive. And there are consequences. Whether Mr. Cheever intended this interpretation, I don’t know.

But.

As a writer, I was floored, captured.

Writers are drilled, over and over, with this notion of the hero’s journey—a hero with a lesson to learn is given conflict, reaches highest high, reaches lowest low, then learns the lesson and triumphs.

In a literary landscape often dominated by escapism and wish-fulfillment, Cheever's willingness to confront the harsh realities of existence is both refreshing and necessary. By refusing to sugarcoat the human condition, he invites readers to confront their own vulnerabilities and insecurities, fostering a deeper connection to the text and the world around them.

It fosters empathy and understanding by allowing readers to see themselves reflected in the characters and situations presented on the page. It also serves as a powerful reminder that life is not always fair or predictable, and that's okay. In fact, it's what makes our experiences uniquely human.

So. Reading The Hartleys, here was a new model to play with. One that, to me, unfortunately, felt more honest and more aligned with the world I see and experience.

The literary idea that: A character flaw so consumes until tragedy arrives, and only then is a lesson learned (or not learned).

Have you ever tried to get someone to overcome their shortcomings, trust issues, anger, violence, passive aggression, selfishness, narcissism, codependency issues? Have you seen them pushed to their lowest low and still not learn the goddam lesson? Have you seen them experience tragedy and STILL not figure it out?

Happy endings, after reading The Hartleys, no longer felt truthful to me. And so my work took a dramatic shift with, first, A GIANT COMES. Then MORPHOSIS, then BE NOT AFRAID. My characters, now, are not living in a world of rose-tinted glasses; instead, they inhabit a realm where life is messy, relationships are strained, and happiness is elusive. By shedding light on the darker aspects of human nature, I hope to inspire change and encourage readers to question the status quo.

So.

Let's remember or discover the profound impact that honesty can have on our work, no matter how uncomfortable it might be.

The Hartleys is a dark read, it is a depressing read. But its given with such honesty. I won’t ever look at a ski rope tow the same.