Wildly acclaimed in Canada, this book marks the debut of a remarkable young writer first published by McSweeney's when she was twenty-three and living at home with her dad and brother. The Middle Stories is a strikingly original collection of stories, fables, and short brutalities that are alternately heartwarming, cruel, and hilarious.
This edition, marking the 10th anniversary of The Middle Stories , will be designed in the newly iconic McSweeney's paperback style, and will be published shortly before Heti's newest novel, How Should A Person Be? , emigrates from Canada via Henry Holt & Co.
Sheila Heti is the author of ten books, including the novels Motherhood and How Should a Person Be? Her upcoming novel, Pure Colour, will be published on February 15, 2022.
Her second children’s book, A Garden of Creatures, illustrated by Esme Shapiro, will be published in May 2022.
She was named one of "The New Vanguard" by The New York Times; a list of fifteen writers from around the world who are "shaping the way we read and write fiction in the 21st century." Her books have been translated into twenty-three languages.
Motherhood was chosen by the book critics at the New York Times as one of the top books of 2018, and New York magazine chose it as the Best Book of the year. How Should a Person Be? was named one of the 12 “New Classics of the 21st century” by Vulture. It was a New York Times Notable Book, a best book of the year in The New Yorker, and was cited by Time as "one of the most talked-about books of the year.”
Women in Clothes, a collaboration with Leanne Shapton, Heidi Julavits, and 639 women from around the world, was a New York Times bestseller. She is also the author of a children’s book titled We Need a Horse, with art by Clare Rojas.
Her play, All Our Happy Days are Stupid, had sold-out runs at The Kitchen in New York and Videofag in Toronto.
She is the former Interviews Editor of The Believer magazine, and has conducted many long-form print interviews with writers and artists, including Joan Didion, Elena Ferrante, Agnes Varda, Sophie Calle, Dave Hickey and John Currin. Her fiction and criticism have appeared in The New Yorker, McSweeney’s, Bookforum, n+1, Granta, The London Review of Books, and elsewhere.
She has spoken at the Museum of Modern Art, the Tate Modern, the New Yorker Festival, the 92nd Street Y, the Hammer Museum, the Art Institute of Chicago, and at universities across North America, and festivals internationally. Her six-hour lecture on writing, delivered in the Spring of 2021, can be purchased through the Leslie Shipman agency.
She is the founder of the Trampoline Hall lecture series, and appeared in Margaux Williamson’s 2012 film Teenager Hamlet, and in Leanne Shapton’s book, Important Artifacts. She lives in Toronto.
I am so enthralled with Heti's short stories. They're give the impression of short, modern fairy tales, but without any discernible moral or purpose. They seem to challenge the reader to find some meaning in them, then veer away from closure or moral at the last moment. Some are depressing, some are heartbreaking, some are just downright amusing. Highly recommended, if you can find a copy of this woefully underprinted collection.
What did i think? A lot of things. From, "What the hell am I reading?" to "Ok, maybe this is going somewhere" to "Nope" to "Is this poor writing intentional?" to "Nope, again" to "Holy crap, I'm only 33% through this thing".
Every time I began to hope a point was being made the author would quickly upend that idea and turn me out to the next meandering story. Some might argue that itself is the point. I wouldn't argue I'd just walk away, slowly shaking my head.
Tiny, deceptively simple stories written in a deadpan style that frequently masks the visceral poetry and punch of Heti's individual sentences. While an occasional tale here comes off as slightly twee or underbaked, most are subtly disturbing and a few are genuinely powerful and moving. This little book can be read in about an hour but its effect on the emotions lingers on long afterwards.
For me, this was a book of little moments, smaller even than the shortness of the stories that contained them. While the stories didn't always grab me with the depth of their meaning (too existential for that, both me and the writing), they were composed of many little scenes and individual lines that did.
The short short is a strange form, in that I think personal aesthetic plays a more important role. In a novel, an author has time to drawn me into the prose, into the flow of thought. In a short short, if it doesn't hit on page one, well, the story is usually over by page 2. It's hard to align one's thinking with that of the author in so short a space, unless the alignment was there to begin with.
All of that is an explanation of why, while I like the book quite a bit, I didn't love it. I'd be interested in reading Heti's work in a longer form.
I recommend reading these stories before bed, as they provoke the most fantastic dreams. They are clever, funny, and wonderfully dark. Some of my favorites are "The Princess and the Plumber," "Mermaid in the Jar," and "Woman Who Lived in a Shoe," which appear early in the collection, though it is worthwhile to read to the end. I also loved many of the opening lines, such as: "There was condensation on the windowpane," "The landlord had been seeking rent from the young fornicator for two weeks now," "Nobody ever accused me of being bright, which I am glad for," "There was a giant in their town. His name was Sal," and "She was only a woman living in a shoe and she didn't understand the ways of the world." Spare, wonderful subversive folktales.
always surprised when i see reviews of Heti that claim she writes poorly (no one ever clarifies what makes it “bad” of course, just as people rarely elaborate on what makes prose “good”). i guess that comes with the territory of being a genuine stylist. her basic mode d’emploi is essentially expository à la childrens literature mixed with a cheerful kind of drabness. these stories would read like fables if Heti had any interest in denoting the weight of any given situation or gesture, so instead we’re left sifting through gestures and incidental remarks for meaning; sound familiar?
Een eerdere Goodreads-review vertelde me dat deze korte verhalen je precies niks en tegelijkertijd alles over het leven vertellen en daar ben ik het grondig mee eens. Mijn favoriete verhaal was 'The raspberry bush', over een vrouw en haar mislukte aardbeien. <3 Geen vijf sterren, omdat het wel heel vaak ging over mannen die leuke/'lekkere' vrouwen wilden, of andersom, dat ik op een gegeven moment snakte naar een andere verhaallijn
This was such a lovely collection of dare I say micro- stories. Imaginative, familiar, relevant and sometimes confusing narratives, that strike the urge to look at one story so closely and read over and over again for analysis to understand why it was written. However, maybe there is no reason it's just writing, just playful, joyous writing. Love this so much.
the short, random narratives in the middle stories made for a great intermission while reading a more difficult book. i enjoyed the fairytale aspect that was sprinkled throughout the book. 3 stars
“De loodgieter staarde de kikker nog een ogenblik aan, voor hij zich omdraaide en naar het bushokje liep. Hij was ontdaan door wat de kikker hem had gezegd en geneigd hem niet te geloven, maar de woorden van de kikker hadden zo overtuigend geklonken, zo stellig… Aan de andere kant, wat wist zo’n kikker nou van liefde? Hij stond op het punt zich om te draaien en de kikker naar zijn referenties te vragen maar de bus kwam eraan en dat deed ie maar eens in de twintig minuten.”
I like the overall concept of these stories: short, weird little fairytales that highlight something disturbing about modern people and our society. But the quality across the collection is really uneven. A few I found delightful, like one about a girl who owns a tiny mermaid who lives inside a mason jar of water. (Someone bought her at a garage sale for 25 cents.) Several stories made me chuckle—they’re like something you’d pull from your strangest dreams. But too many were just nothing and reminded me of a guy I knew in art school who blew his nose on a tissue, framed it, and displayed it in an art gallery. I can only stand so much of that. It’s just lazy.
But this collection is from very early in Sheila Heti’s career, so don’t let it deter you from her more recent work. I especially like her novels ‘Pure Colour’ and ‘Motherhood.’ She also has a short story in ‘The New Yorker’ (April 11, 2022) called ‘Just a Little Fever’ that’s fantastic.
Like a big dummy, I let 2022's Pure Colour be my first Sheila Heti experience, so obviously upon finishing that, I dusted myself off, tried to shake my head clear a million times, and then sought out another one. Here I landed with her 2001 debut. A little Fractured Fairy Tales, a little Kafka parables, a generous dollop of unadorned sex and, especially toward the end, a glimpse into what twenty-years-later produces: these absolute head-shot lines and ideas that are the work of a really singular talent. If I had any issue with the book, it's the pacing of the collection itself. There is a handful or so about 2/3 through that feel less fully formed then their comrades, but this is still a really worthwhile collection.
Fresh, original, and funny. As in any collection, some stories are better than others; the best stories here are wonderful and ring with truth. Russell Smith's description, folk tales without morals, is apt.
But I find myself wondering if, after putting this on the stove and bringing it to a rolling boil until only the essence remained, I'd find much left at all. These stories are more interesting on their surfaces than in their depths.
Someone on the back of the cover reviewed this as "They are the sort of stories you would read to children before tucking them into bed for the night, if you wanted them to wrestle with existential angst before falling asleep." and I agree, it's way cute. Someone on this site reviewed this using the prefix "psuedo-" like 8 times and I think she should change her tampon because you can get toxic shock syndrome.
I really enjoyed these short stories and their weird, wild range. The author was clearly interested in reinventing the idea of the short story on each new trip out. Because there is a real variability in facture between the pieces. If there is an overarching theme, it is probably how scary we human beings are. These are usefully disquieting stories. When shared, they are likely to start cathartic conversations.
Okay, I added two stars and erased my old review. I actually did an enlightening exercise: I tried imitating the stories myself. They're still not the kind of thing I like, and feel like they rang untrue much of the time, but... there is more here than first meets the eye.
Some were stronger than others. It's her first collection so that makes sense and made me feel excited and close to the author knowing her trajectory. There was a sort of random chaos to the stories and they ended quite abruptly, without a rounded story arc but it was intentional and thus artful.
Hit and miss for me. Sometimes I love what she's doing, or what I think she's doing. Other times I'm not sure I'm quite getting it--the point, her choices--at all. I read her recent story in The New Yorker twice and am still not sure I completely understand it. Odd because while so much of it, lines, ideas, were wonderful, but I can't claim to have totally identified with it, or what it's ultimate intent/meaning was meant to be. Same w some of the stories in this short book. I read daily and (I think, I hope) carefully. But from time to time, her work, which I generally admire and enjoy, leaves me with nothing more that an 'idea' or 'guess' as to what she's up to. Some obscurity/vagueness/trickery in fiction is perfectly fine, can be fun (or sometimes cold/frustrating), and is certainly nothing new, but I can't say it's always a pleasure to read. That's just my opinion, obviously.
Anyway, in the end, she's clearly talented (like many, or some, people, I'd never heard of her until her breakout 'novel' How Should A Person Be), but ultimately I found this book of early short stories to be mostly good, compelling stuff. 3.7 rounded up.
They didn't take each other's hand. They sat down on a bench and looked out over the water and heard not the rustle of people or the roar of traffic or the raindrops on the lake. They didn't hear each other breathing, or feel the presence of God. They heard their heavy thoughts and slumped back on the bench and contemplated some. Well, if it wasn't the sea, so dark and grim. If it wasn't the sky, the worst of the year. If it wasn't the weather, the coldest day yet. And everyone inside escaping it. And there they were, ugly and forlorn, in a day just as ugly, and just as forlorn, but still a day, still a day.