The Enormous Radio

“The Enormous Radio” is one of John Cheever’s most widely anthologized short stories. It is also a strong example of Cheever’s occasional tendency to shift toward magical realism, which entails the presence of fantastical or supernatural elements in an otherwise realistic narrative.

The story opens with a mundane description of two protagonists, Jim and Irene Westcott. On the surface, this paragraph provides objective details about them, but the characterization is marked by certain phrases that illustrate a critical, even judgmental tone. The Westcotts have achieved a “satisfactory average” life, and Irene is reported to be a “rather plain girl” with a “forehead upon which nothing at all had been written,” while her husband retains an “intentionally naïve” (33) manner as he starts to show evidence of middle age. This criticism in the opening paragraph serves a fault-finding function, one that ends with a great revelation about the Westcotts: They love classical music, but they keep this appreciation for an outdated form of entertainment hidden from others.

The story’s inciting incident comes in the second paragraph, when the Westcotts’ old radio, described as “beyond repair” (33), finally breaks down for good while they are listening to a Schubert quartet. Neither husband nor wife have the specialized knowledge needed to fix any kind of home appliance, so they must rely on the help of repairmen. In the 1940s, the notion of planned obsolescence—or consumer goods that were built to be replaced—was still in its infancy; so, presumably, the couple has already had a repairman in for a visit, to provide the Westcotts with such a terminal prognosis for the old radio.

Such appliances were the primary form of home entertainment during the Golden Age of Radio. Without a new radio, the Westcotts would lose access to their beloved classical music, making it an absolute necessity, especially in wealthier homes such as theirs. The act of purchasing a new radio is explained within the story as something that Jim “promised to buy” (33) for his wife, serving as an example of the kind of transactional exchanges that defined the institution of marriage during an era with such rigid gender-specific roles and duties. Men were the breadwinners who worked outside the house. Women were homemakers who tended to matters inside the home, ensuring that each room was properly decorated, that children were reared in a satisfactory manner, and that bills for domestic duties were paid on time. The Westcotts’ marital dynamic supports the theme of the Compartmentalization of Gender Roles and Marital Duties.

The Westcotts are wealthy enough to employ a maid named Emma. When the radio arrives, Irene turns to Emma for assistance that would not be available to women with less financial freedom. Throughout the story, this middle-class privilege allows Irene more time to pursue the luxury of leisure. Such a pursuit of pleasure was, in earlier centuries, reserved for the aristocracy or those with great wealth. After the Industrial Revolution, money for leisurely activities became more readily available as worker wages increased. Cheaper, more abundant leisurely activities became more commonplace in the 20th century. Nonetheless, in mid-century America, there was still a quantifiable difference between the amount of leisure time afforded to working-class individuals, such as Emma, and wealthier individuals, such as Emma’s boss, Irene.

The story progressively reveals veiled details to provide an ambiguous understanding of the Westcotts’ complicated financial situation. This strategy of concealment is employed in an early, memorable exchange when Jim refuses to tell his wife about the radio cabinet he has purchased for her. With the new cabinet finally stuffed into her well-decorated living room, Irene is unsettled by the displeasing size and appearance of the radio. Jim has likely purchased an uglier, cheaper model to save money on the expense. He doesn’t mention any of this to his wife; he conceals his concerns about their finances when the extravagant purchase is first made. The story juxtaposes these early examples of keeping secrets as a way of foreshadowing the many secrets that will be unveiled as the narrative unfolds.

Once the new radio arrives, the realistic foundation of the story starts to fall away. Along with the radio, the theme of The Disruption of Domesticity is introduced. This shift begins with a famous line of personification. The radio is described as an “aggressive intruder” (34) that has invaded Irene’s personal space. With the power switched on, there is a “malevolent green light” (34) that shines over Irene’s inability to control this unfamiliar machine. In those early moments, the radio seems to be either haunted or in control of itself. The volume suddenly increases of its own accord, shooting out “violent forces” (34) of sound that are powerful enough to knock things over. Irene later learns that the radio is strong enough to pick up and amplify electrical impulses from other appliances and machines in the building. Through the radio’s “sensitivity to discord” (34), Irene is able to hear all of the unsightly sounds of mechanized domesticity.

When Jim learns that the radio is malfunctioning, he promises his wife that he is going to call the company he purchased the set from to “give them hell” (35). After a repairman’s visit, Jim and Irene listen to a Chopin prelude on the radio during dinner. They presume that things have returned to normal, but suddenly, there is a new kind of interference coming through the radio: the voices of strangers. Jim and Irene realize that the radio now has the most extraordinary of capabilities. The set is powerful enough to amplify the conversations of other tenants in their building. For leisure, instead of listening to music, they are now able to eavesdrop on strangers, an unfamiliar enterprise that brings husband and wife closer together when first discovered.

Cheever contrasts highbrow and lowbrow culture through the Westcotts’ first night of voyeurism. The Westcotts are lovers of classical music and avid theatergoers. They embrace and embody highbrow musical, theatrical, and artistic tastes. Over the radio airwaves, they realize that the Chopin they have been listening to is being played on a home piano, by someone who shares their love of high culture. The unknown piano player’s husband represents individuals who dislike highbrow art, as witnessed by his rebuke for his wife’s constant piano playing. A celebration of lowbrow culture is provided on the next station, when the Westcotts hear a neighboring family’s nurse reciting nonsense poetry written by Edward Lear. An exploration of the antagonistic forces between high and low culture is interspersed throughout the story. For example, there is a moment when Irene quotes Shakespeare in a manner that echoes the reading of Edward Lear poetry by Miss Armstrong. Irene, the wealthy employer, turns to an apotheosis of literature while the domestic servant relies on literary nonsense to tend to children. In addition, the numerous classical composers who are mentioned provide a stark contrast to the Salvation Army band or the “Missouri Waltz” heard so often. The latter is a state song with racist roots given its earliest rendition as a minstrel song. However, it is also a song from Irene’s childhood that evokes innocence.

Irene becomes obsessed with the radio’s abilities, paving the way for the theme of The Dangerous Pursuit of Knowledge. Eavesdropping on the lives of others is an activity that provides this naïve housewife with dark truths and a different understanding of the contemporary human experience. She witnesses moments of intimacy that seem beyond her capability: Miss Armstrong’s sweet, mothering voice is presumably what Irene’s children hear coming out of Emma’s mouth, rather than from their own mother. Some husband’s late-night solicitude for his coughing wife is an unfamiliar gesture not often encountered in her own detached marriage. Irene also learns about many neighboring families with financial woes who are struggling to remain solvent, or to pay their debts. She becomes aware of neighbors who are engaged in sexual activities that she deems abhorrent. She is a silent witness to horrific moments of domestic abuse. Even if they are simply overheard, these experiences mark Irene, ensuring that she is no longer that woman with a “fine forehead upon which nothing at all had been written” (33).

Irene’s character changes drastically on the night of a dinner date with friends, when she acts rudely and “with an intensity” (39) that seems insolent and punishable. She can no longer go on living with the same rosy perspective. The obsession with the radio’s power drives Irene from disillusionment to despair. She has come to see the world as a “naughty place” (39), filled with suffering and depravity. This dispiriting leisure activity also serves as a warped funhouse-like mirror, providing readers with an insightful reflection on the state of Jim and Irene’s own marriage.

When Irene begs Jim to help the woman who is being abused, he refuses in a manner typical for men in the 1940s, a period when such violence against women was widely accepted and normalized. In this climactic moment, when his wife is full of desperation, the husband rebukes her for taking part in such an “indecent” (39) leisurely activity, even though they had both joyfully engaged in the act just a few days before. Jim sees nothing wrong with another man using his fists to reprimand a wife, and he admonishes his own wife for continuing to take part in something that depresses her. In response, Irene frantically asks her husband if he loves her. She doesn’t wait for an answer before asking two other quickly rattled-off questions, one about them being hypocrites, the other about financial concerns. His only response is “No darling” (40), a complicated answer given the cruel uncertainty it communicates through a moment of such ironic ambiguity. Although he attempts to soothe her that night, the next he throws back in her face how much money he has spent to make her happy. Jim has concealed their financial burdens from Irene and essentially treated her like a child, a not uncommon marital dynamic for the time. This also speaks to the theme of the Compartmentalization of Gender Roles and Marital Duties. However, when Jim’s own fears escalate, he lashes out at Irene and puts the accountability on her.

After another visit from another repairman, the new radio is finally set straight, and the story returns to its earlier, more realistic grounding. Rather than hearing voices on the radio, the Westcotts are greeted by renditions of the classical music they adore so much. Schiller’s “Ode to Joy” is an obvious choice, a cynical one meant to symbolize a joyous yet bitter return to normalcy in the Westcott home. That stinging contradiction is underscored by another insightful reflection on the Westcott household, given how Jim spends so much time lecturing his wife about their family’s financial concerns. Joy has started to return to the Westcott home now that the radio that Jim bought for his wife is working properly. Joy will return to their household in full once Irene fulfills the duties that are expected of a happy wife.

The ending sequence is an inverse rendition of the opening paragraph. While the opening paragraph uses a list of details to tell readers about the Westcotts, the ending is rendered in scene so that the reading experience is more cinematic in scope. Readers can hear the argument between the Westcotts as it unfolds. The ending is, in fact, so theatrical, readers might find themselves expressing the same thing Jim said when he first heard spoken words coming out of the radio’s speakers: “It’s probably a play” (36). In this closing moment, it is as if Irene’s worst fears have become reality, when she pleads with her husband to quiet down because “[t]hey’ll hear us” (41). Readers of the story are voyeurs as well, eavesdropping on this family quarrel as if Jim and Irene’s voices were being broadcast over some enormous, magical radio’s speakers. As they listen in, readers are being put into the same stressful situation, forced to judge these strangers, relying solely on a small collection of intimate moments overheard without the Westcotts’ permission. The banality of the news signifies that the Westcotts are no different than their neighbors or anyone else.