Established in 1918 as a memorial to O. Henry, this annual literary tradition has presented a remarkable offering of stories over its 76-year history. O. Henry first-prize winners have included Dorothy Parker, William Faulkner, Truman Capote, John Cheever, John Updike, and Cynthia Ozick as well as some lesser know writers such as Alison Baker and Cornelia Nixon. Many talented writers who were unknown when first chosen for an O. Henry Award later went on to become seminal voices of contemporary American fiction. Representative of the very best in contemporary American fiction, these are varied, full-bodied fictional creations brimming with life--proof of the continuing strength and variety of the American short story.
Some good and some bad. Admirable for the most part, even if there are some questionable choices here.
"City Life," Mary Gordon. A woman grew up among slovenly alcoholic parents. She distances her adult life from them, becoming, apparently, a typical upperclass wife with a rather pronounced zest for order. Then she encounters her slovenly, impaired downstairs neighbor, who brings back all her old memories, and she starts to sympathize with him. Despite the award, I thought this story a bit simplistic in its structure, rather binary. The writing was excellent, and the main character’s phobia was believable enough, but I just didn’t find her madness very creepy.
"The Falls," George Saunders. Morse, a self-berating office worker, walks home, ruminating comically on his unremarkable life. Also walking along is a haughty nut with poetic leanings. When they both see two girls in a canoe heading for disaster on the falls, it’s Morse who jumps in to save them. A great story: Morse’s rapid-fire dryly droll monologue hides some serious questions. Is Morse a hero because he knows himself? Because he wants to be one? Because at heart he’s a good person? Because he’s a humble but noble building block of society? Brilliant.
"The Talk Talked Between Worms," Lee K. Abbott. A man ruminates on his father, who saw an alien spaceship crash in Roswell, communed with an alien, and went slightly mad a result. A powerful, if a bit confusing, piece about how the unknown can turn our lives inside out --- or how, if we are more grounded in the good things of life, it can merely vindicate us. Possibly.
"On With the Story," John Barth. A meta-textual postmodern tale: a woman going through a divorce reads in an in-flight magazine a synchronistic story about a woman undergoing a similar crisis. The story’s author (sitting beside her) makes some remarks about temporal relativity, including Zeno’s Seventh Paradox and Heisenberg’s uncertainty principle. And Barth critiques his narrative as well as the author’s remarks. A fun experiment in the dissection of reality and fiction.
"The Love of a Good Woman," Alice Munro, 63 pages. Some boys find the body of a local man in his car at the bottom of a river. Then, years later, a nurse hears a story about how the man may have been murdered, from the murderer’s wife. Some very rich descriptions, but I was disappointed in the whole. It was as if each scene was building up to something which never came. The boys’ life histories were given for no reason, as they figure in no way in the later events; it’s as if Munro started one story and began another. I also thought Munro tried too hard to write from a “boy’s standpoint.” In any case I found the nurse, Enid, to be a timorous, unpleasant and selfish character, like the women who marry imprisoned serial killers.
"The Twa Corbies,” Carolyn Cooke. A retired professor spends time with his brother, who is mentally a toddler, and his sister-in-law, who is manically cheerful, and dying. A brief and quite grim picture of the ways life can come to an end before death. Strong, subtle writing: the narrator’s cold, detached analysis opens him to judgment even as he describes his subjects.
"Catface," Arthur Bradford. A man gets a succession of roommates, ending with Catface, a guy who has a cat face, and meets a woman who keeps mutant puppies. A surrealistic, funny, minimalist tale, marked by straight-faced and dry humor. The story’s fun and funny, but I don’t think 27-year-old Bradford is an exceptional craftsman. In fact, it seems merely a better-written example of the kind of wink-wink bizarro humor one often found in prep school magazines —-- clever and enticing, but not meaning much.
"Dancing After Hours," Andre Dubus. A female bartender, insulated and lacking in intimacy, opens up a bit when a paralyzed man and his assistant come to her bar. I found the prose boring initially: blunt, overly detailed descriptions, at the same time vague in terms of reference points. But the characters are fleshed out once the setup is over, and it’s a moving, troubling story.
"The Royal Palms,” Matthew Klam. A man goes on vacation with his wife, with whom he’s sexually estranged, and they meet an attractive couple. The ensuing vibes help break the couple’s tension. A bit disjointed; the story starts with a chase that serves little purpose, and the whole doesn’t have any climax to speak of. It’s a pleasant enough tale, if somewhat bland.
"The Lipstick Tree,” Kiana Davenport. Eva, a woman from a primitive tribe in New Guinea, becomes a modern woman, leaving her clan and heritage behind forever. A unimpressive, inoffensive story, written in a sort of dull National Geographic style, yet without a firm voice, quite unsubtle (“Eva wondered if this was her future --- a life of squatting in the bush,” etc, etc), and without much drama. Catch that delicate symbolism of the name “Eva”? Bland, boring.
"The Red House,” Ian MacMillan. An under-privileged boy in a rural area, abused by his father, has a powerful love of words; rebuilding an old house, he meets a sympathetic girl, and both events bolster his burgeoning sense of self worth. Beautiful, exact, rich prose; sweet & hopeful.
"Comfort," Mary Gaitskill. A man’s mother is in a bad car accident, and it widens the vast gap of understanding between him and his wife. A stark, real story about how two people can live together and alone, and the power of stress, both to unravel and bring together. Masterfully executed.
Short stories always seem like recreational reading. With novels, it always takes longer to figure out what the author is trying to say, or to either become engrossed in the book, or to realize that it doesn't really speak to you. But with the short story, for better or for worse, it's over in not so many pages. Short stories seem designed for lazy people. If you're reading something that you just don't enjoy, you can be finished with it and on to the next one in fairly short order. But when you find a story that really grabs you, that also happens quickly, leaving you wondering how the author can say so much in so short a time.
The editor of this series says in his introduction that he read over 3000 stories during the year before choosing 20 to include in this collection. He chooses stories, he says, that affected him most deeply or left the most lasting impression. This collection includes a wide range of stories--some sad, some inspiring, some quite funny. I didn't like all of them equally, but none of them were a horrible read--each was interesting or entertaining in some way or another. And some of them really did stick with me long after I read them.
My favorites included:
"The Lipstick Tree" by Kiana Davenport - A young girl lives under a very oppressive culture in tribal New Guinea and dreams of escaping, though she knows how alienated she will be in the "civilized" world and that she'll never be able to return to her village.
"The Final Inning" by Thomas Glave - This is a very powerful story that begins with the funeral of a young black man from the inner city who has died from AIDS. There's an incredible amount of anger and tension in this story, as a group of black women--family and friends--rage in fury over the dead man's gay friends, without admitting to themselves that he was gay.
"Mirrors" - A couple who has been married for many years spend their summers in a vacation house that is completely devoid of mirrors. They have become so connected and so familiar with each other that the only mirror that they need is the other person.
This was given to me a year or so ago solely because they (the person who gave it to me) knew that I am a fan of David Foster Wallace, who happened to be one of the writers on the Prize Jury, along with Thom Jones and Louise Erdrich. They assumed that I would want to read 20 stories that DFW had also read, and judged. They were correct.
It was interesting to read these if only for the how dated some of them seem now. I'd run across a subject or phrase or observation and think, "oh wait, that makes sense because this was written/published in 1997." Of course, some might say that is the mark of bad writing, lack of timelessness. Well, you're wrong, those that say that...but yeah, the cover is soooooo 1997.
Also, a neat (yeah, I just said 'neat') thing about this collection is that each story is commented on by one or more of the judges, detailing their reactions to the stories. And then, along with each author bio, the authors give a sentence or two explaining where the idea for the story came from. Kinda cool.
The stories I enjoyed the most: The Falls by George Saunders, On with the Story by John Barth, The Royal Palms by Matthew Klam, The Balm of the Gilead Tree by Robert Morgan, Mermaids by Deborah Eisenberg, and Mirrors by Carols Shields.
I read this book years ago so I'm not going to talk about all the stories in this book but two stories have remained with me since then. The five stars are for those two stories. One was City Life; I don't know what it's like to grow up in a pigsty with an alcoholic father and a dysfunctional mother but I think I do because of this short story, in fact I even imagine that I know what it feels like. I don't drive through a rural town and see the house a mile after the last house at the edge of town without remembering this story.
I don't remember the title of the other story that caught my attention but it was about the older single guy who is self-conscious to the nth degree, walking home from work with his "high water" pants worrying about what everyone's thinking about him then worrying himself for worrying about what everyone's thinking about him. It was a delightful and insightful read.
Sort of the nadir of my O. Henry reading experience. Most of these stories simply fell flat for me. A few, like Mary Gordon's winning "City Life," and Matthew Klam's melancholy "The Royal Pains," have endearing characters I liked and felt sympathy for. But most of these pieces contain long, rambling stretches of text where nothing happens, bad dialogue, and a tone that declares openly the authors had no respect for their audience. A pretty tough read overall.
I'm not really a fan of short stories - I read this as part of an assignment to compare the narratives of male versus female authors for a linguistics class.