“The Enormous Radio” is a short story written by John Cheever and first published in The New Yorker in 1947. It was republished in 1953 as the eponymous story in Cheever’s The Enormous Radio and Other Stories. Cheever went on to publish five novels and eight story collections, including a seminal anthology released in 1978 as The Stories of John Cheever. This book earned him a Pulitzer Prize for Fiction and a National Book Critics Circle Award, as well as the National Book Award when the paperback edition was released in 1981. The recognition catapulted Cheever into the national spotlight. Shortly before his death, he was awarded the National Medal for Literature for his efforts to chronicle stories set in New York City and New England in the mid-20th century.

Cheever’s style of writing is generally characterized as realism. Most of his oeuvre utilizes this strategy of lifelike representation to explore his characters’ emotional responses to growing disillusionment with quotidian existence. His deft ability to dramatize the human experience through banal but consequential exchanges earned him the designation of “the Chekhov of the suburbs.” This particular Cheever story about a family radio is an early example of this style of realistic writing. However, with elements of magical realism found in the fantastical radio, this story is an early departure away from realism, one that the writer would famously embark upon again two decades later, in another widely anthologized story, “The Swimmer.”

This guide refers to the version of “The Enormous Radio” found in the 1978 edition of The Stories of John Cheever.

The story is set in the 1940s, during the later years of the Golden Age of Radio, and the Westcotts rely on a large radio console for home entertainment like so many American families during that decade. The story opens with a pointed description of Jim and Irene Westcott. The Westcotts, a “satisfactory average” (33) couple with two children, reside in a Sutton Place apartment on the east side of Manhattan. Similar to many middle-class residents of the time, the Westcotts employ a maid, Emma, who helps care for the children, giving Irene more time for herself.

Irene is a rather plain homemaker and Jim is starting to show his age, but otherwise, they are nearly indistinguishable from everyone else in their New York City neighborhood. The most distinguishing characteristic of the couple is their love of “serious music” (33); they frequently, though discreetly, attend many concerts, and they keep their love of classical music hidden from others.

The couple owns an old radio that is “sensible, unpredictable, and beyond repair” (33). On occasion when the instrument falters, Jim will beat the side of the wooden cabinet with his hand. While listening to a Schubert quartet one afternoon, the old radio breaks down for good. Jim’s repeated attempts to knock the radio right fail, so he is quick to purchase a new radio for his wife the next day. Rather than describing what the new radio set looks like, he tells Irene that he wants it to be a surprise for her when the set is delivered. Once the radio is installed in the living room, Irene isn’t surprised; she is shocked. As a homemaker, she has put in a great deal of effort to decorate her home, but the radio cabinet her husband selected is so ugly it seems like an “aggressive intruder” (34) when placed beside her own carefully curated furniture selections.

On a first attempt at using the radio, Irene finds herself baffled by so many different knobs and dials. She studies the controls before turning the radio on, but the volume still jumps loud enough to knock a piece of porcelain to the floor. Alarmed by the radio’s “violent forces” (34), she turns it off and takes her kids to the park. Later that same evening, Irene passes on her domestic duties to the maid, who feeds and bathes the children while their mother returns to her leisurely pursuits. On a second attempt with the radio, Irene is delighted to hear the high quality of sounds the appliance provides while listening to a beloved Mozart quintet. She has finally “made her peace with the radio” (34) when something goes terribly wrong. Loud electrical interferences inexplicably stream through the speakers. Listening closely to all those jarring sounds, Irene realizes that the radio is picking up and amplifying noises made by other appliances and machines in the building. Not knowing what to do to fix the problem, she turns the radio off and goes to spend some time with her kids.

Jim comes home from work and has a similar experience with the new radio. He unsuccessfully attempts to fix the issue with the controls. He tells his wife that he will call the store to complain about the issue, and the next day, Irene comes home from lunch to find that a repairman has already come by to fix the radio. She listens to a rendition of the “Missouri Waltz,” a childhood favorite, but is surprised that there is no explanation of the music once the piece concludes. Instead, there is a short pause before the same musical number plays a second time. She is also bothered by a “confusion of voices” (35) and chimes that intrude on her listening experience. That night, Jim leaves the radio on during dinner. The Westcotts enjoy a Chopin piece until the music is suddenly interrupted by an argument heard through the speakers. A husband, just home from work like Jim, complains to his wife about her constant playing of the piano. The angry husband curses and then slams a door before the piano music resumes as if nothing has happened.

After closer examination, Jim and Irene realize that their new radio is powerful enough to pick up nearby conversations. Flipping through different stations, they overhear various interactions, including a second argument and another couple getting dressed after sex. On one station, a woman with an English accent is heard reciting “The Courtship of the Yonghy-Bonghy-Bò,” a whimsical love poem by Edward Lear, an English poet from the 19th century. Irene recognizes the voice and convinces her husband that they are listening to Miss Armstrong, a nurse who tends to another set of children in their building. Delighted by the new radio’s extraordinary powers, the Westcotts spend that evening eavesdropping on other tenants. Irene finds herself so enthralled by this voyeuristic entertainment that she returns to the radio later that night and overhears a tender conversation between a doting husband and his sick wife.

Irene’s enthrallment quickly becomes an obsession, and the next day, she listens to the radio whenever she is alone. The radio plays “the worn record of the ‘Missouri Waltz’” (37) again, as well as more private conversations. When Irene heads out to a lunch date, she sees different female tenants on the elevator and tries to match their posh appearances to intimate and sometimes immoral radio conversations she’s overheard. One woman quietly hums the “Missouri Waltz.” During lunch, Irene spends a good deal of time musing over her lunch companion’s possible secrets. Disinterested in shopping, Irene cuts their plans short to get back to the radio. At first the conversations only reveal mild social faux pas, but as the evening progresses, Irene overhears increasingly scandalous and criminal truths. When Jim returns home, he sees that Irene’s mood has shifted. She appears “sad and vague” (38), so he brings her a drink to calm her nerves.

Later that night, Irene and Jim take a serene walk through the city to meet their friends for dinner. On the way, the couple passes a Salvation Army band performing the hymnal “Jesus Is Sweeter.” Irene has Jim stop so that they can listen to the music briefly, and she comments, “They’re really such nice people aren’t they? […] Actually, they’re much nicer than the people we know” (38). Without waiting for a response, Irene drops some money into the band’s tip jar. After, Jim notices a look of “radiant melancholy” (38) on his wife’s face.

At dinner, Irene’s unusual demeanor continues. She acts rudely to her friends, speaking out of turn and leering at strangers in a juvenile manner. On their way home, she quotes a line from The Merchant of Venice that speaks to the fruitlessness of good deeds in such a “naughty world” (39). It is apparent, from her speech and actions, that she is beginning to perceive the world through a darker, less naïve lens. Once her husband is asleep that night, Irene returns to the radio and listens to more stories of suffering, further fueling her new-found disillusionment with the world.

Irene’s reactions to the radio become more urgent the following day. She accosts Jim the moment he gets home from work, begging her husband to intervene in a bout of unfolding domestic abuse. Rather than get involved in the Osborn’s affairs, Jim turns the radio off so that the neighbor’s violence is no longer audible. Then he admonishes his wife for her eavesdropping, calling her actions “indecent” (39). Irene breaks down, crying about all the terrible things she’s learned, mentioning how depressed she’s gotten listening in on others. She lists off her neighbors’ sordid secrets and starts to pass judgment on them for how often they all argue about money. Jim admonishes her again, asking Irene why she would keep listening to something that makes her feel so depressed. Not wanting to argue with her husband, Irene shifts the conversation to their own relationship, pleading to know if they are happy together and if they are “good and decent” (40). Jim attempts to reassure and soothe her, and he asserts that he’ll get the radio taken care of.

The next day, there is another visit from a repairman, and finally, the radio is working as it should. It plays classical music all day long with no unwanted interludes. During dinner, while listening to music, Jim speaks to his wife sternly about money issues. He mentions the high cost of their new radio, as well as some household bills that Irene has failed to take care of with her allowance. He lectures his wife on their pressing financial situation, letting her know that they will have to cut costs to remain solvent. At this moment, Irene fears that the extraordinary powers of the enormous radio might be focused on their private conversation, and she asks her husband to be quieter and more discreet, in case anyone might be listening in on them.

Jim erupts in fury, not caring if anyone can hear his voice when he hollers out some of Irene’s secrets. He mentions family jewelry she stole from her sister before their mother’s will could be executed. He goes on about an abortion Irene underwent even though she had the gall to judge their neighbor for having the same procedure. As Jim communicates his disgust with Irene for having gone off “to have that child murdered” (41), Irene is overwhelmed with shame. He continues shouting at her as she changes the station on the radio, hoping to hear Miss Armstrong’s kind voice coming from the speakers. Instead, the radio delivers the news—a list of that day’s worst tragedies along with mention of the weather—in a “suave and noncommittal” (41) fashion, with no regard to whomever may be listening.