Fireworks by Richard Ford

 

"I hope you came down here to dance with your wife."

Although Richard Ford is often compared to Raymond Carver in terms of subject matter (both authors also hit their stride in the 1980s), their literary style couldn't be more different. Carver’s stories embrace minimalism, stripped down to their bare essentials, whereas Ford gives us a little more to chew on—more backstory, more character depth, more room to sit with the emotions. It's as if the characters in Carver's stories are transported over to the mid-west and given just a little more time to reflect about their sad lives as they fumble through relationships in a way that feels incredibly real. They’re still dealing with the same disappointments, the same struggles of everyday life but there's an extra layer of introspection, a little more vulnerability. Even in those moments of despair, frustration or uncertainty, Ford finds ways to slip in humor or small, unexpected moments of warmth. That’s what keeps his stories from feeling too bleak—there’s always some sense of hope that things will get better. 

Fireworks is a slow burn (no pun intended), where not much happens in terms of plot. Instead, Ford focuses on the everyday realities of Eddie Starling and his wife, Lois. Eddie is struggling to find work after losing his job at a real estate firm, while Lois makes ends meet by working at a dingy bar. That’s pretty much it. The main focus is the way Ford subtly builds Eddie’s character arc and fleshes out the complex dynamic of their relationship.

These two characters and their relationship feels so authentic because it isn’t filled with grand, dramatic moments. It’s just two people with emotional baggage trying to figure out life together. And that’s what makes Ford’s writing so compelling. He doesn’t romanticize love in a cliché way. Instead, he captures how love endures and can found in the little moments of connection: a phone call, drinks at the bar, a slow dance in front of a jukebox, a late-night drive to watch fireworks on the Fourth of July. These shared moments define their relationship more than any big declarations ever could.

One of the many memorable and heartfelt scenes takes place at the bar. When Eddie arrives, he’s emotionally distant, harboring jealousy over Lois’s ex-husband who had been there earlier. He puts on this tough-guy act, keeping his guard up. But Lois, with her charm and playful flirtation, gradually breaks through his defenses. What follows is a beautifully understated moment of forgiveness and reconnection—a scene that speaks volumes about how love can persist even through frustration and insecurity.

I'd be remiss if I didn't discuss the ending, which is nothing short of fantastic. This isn’t a spoiler, because again, the story isn’t about major plot twists. In an unexpected and deeply moving gesture, Lois sets off fireworks while dancing in the rain and Eddie watches her, mesmerized. It’s in this pivitol moment where he sets aside the ego and is finally able to see how being with her is healing. It’s a magical scene, and the fireworks serve as the perfect metaphor for love itself: brilliant and fleeting, capable of burning bright and then fading. However, that doesn't mean all is lost as the final lines powerfully reveal: "And only he would be there, waiting, when the light was finally gone." There’s a bittersweetness to it, but also a profound beauty. And Ford, true to his style, doesn’t over-explain or force emotion. He simply lets the moment unfold naturally, allowing us to feel exactly what Eddie feels: gratitude, wonder, and unconditional love.