As it approaches its twentieth year, Shannon Ravenel's anthology has taken on a kind of cult status among readers, writers, teachers of short fiction, and trend watchers. It was here that some of the most well-respected voices of the last two decades were first recognized, here that writers tell us they were discovered by agents, here that they landed their first book deals. And for readers looking for fresh, exciting short fiction, here is where they'll find it. Ravenel has once again put together a stellar lineup of stories that makes this anthology not just a mark of distinction for writers, but a must-have for short-story aficionados and lovers of Southern fiction.
The stories in the nineteenth volume of New Stories from the South continue to spotlight the jewels of the South, both discovered and on the verge, featuring Edward P. Jones, George Singleton, Chris Offutt, Annette Sanford, Rick Bass, Silas House, Starkey Flythe, Michael Knight, and more. Each story is followed by the author's note about its origin. With a preface by bestselling writer Tim Gautreaux, this volume promises to be another collector's edition.
Another strong anthology in this superb series. I enjoy short stories but seldom read them. I tend to forget how satisfying it can be hearing multiple distinct voices in a single volume.
Two best stories here: "Dog Song" Ann Pancake, and "The Widow" - Bret Anthony Johnston (one of my favorite writers from the IWW). George Singleton's story, as usual, is great as well.
"In early April 1865, a piece of paper - much-revised and eventually perfectly written - was presented to the boss of the Northern Forces. One Reb leader sat down and signed his name. In doing so, he admitted we had finally surrendered.
But from that very hour, the unlucky side vowed to gain at least the struggle's story rights. Having lost, we made of losing the one way to know. We made defeat our merit.
'Stories happen to people who can tell them,' one Confederate widow confided. Since Appamattox, a trillion other Southern pages have been committed - also much-revised, even perfected. And since April, our region's prose has sung most everything except surrender.
True, we lost once, big-time. But our concession prize? The stories. Having got those in the settlement, we really are funnier and darker and shrewder - bigger - than the ones who believe that they, at least, are smarter. Race woes and that old rugged cross called Religion have left us as ornery as eloquent.
We have outlived the forgetters, may talkative brothers and sisters. At last, we win and win and win. We have finally become what time will tell." Allan Gurganus