Readers (and publishers) have had
a long and ever-evolving relationship with short story collections. Stories
may seem best suited for the places you usually find them—magazines, journals, and
now, online sources. Short pieces are concentrated and self-sufficient, intended in
most cases to be read in one sitting. In recent years, the rise of the short story
has been announced by some in publishing who claim the shorter form is
especially suited to our social media age, wherein information is doled out in bite-size
nuggets and attention spans are decreasing. Yet, why shouldn't these writers compile collections and publish them in book form? Many recent collections have
garnered national attention. It's an unwieldy and diverse form, just like the novel. Which brings up related questions: how should story
collections be unified and organized? If the stories interrelate, at what point
does it become a novel?
Honestly,
I don’t lose much sleep over the labeling business. I’m happy to call a book
whatever the author wants to call it. But I do lose sleep over finding the
right package for my own writing ideas. Like many writers, I started out with short
fiction and at some point, felt that my ideas needed more room so I made the shift to novels. I’m a
long-time subscriber to a few magazines that feature stories and yet, I seldom
read them. Why? I don’t know! Lately, I’ve been seeking out more short fiction
for selfish reasons, because I’m working on my own collection. Periodically, I
return to Flannery O’ Connor and Katherine Anne Porter for inspiration, and
yet, I didn’t write anything in the shorter form until a subject seemed to call
for it. (Oh, and reading the collected works of Lydia Davis a few years ago opened
up a whole new world.)
It
seems to me that subject dictates form, then, and there’s a great freedom in
knowing other writers are stretching the boundaries, breaking established “rules”
for different forms, and most importantly—being read. Jessica Francis Kane’s
collection This Close is a good
example. Kane unifies her collection with a central theme: the gray area in
relationships, how people come “this close” to true communion with another soul
and the ways they fall short, misunderstand and misinterpret. A young man
agonizes over his interactions with the mother of a friend who has died, a
woman is threatened by a neighbor’s relationship with her elderly father. Human
connections and how they confound us at times. The longer pieces in the collection
are perhaps on the short side and there are two pieces that come in under a
page. Each story is focused and perceptive, its own world. Some of them
interrelate with the same characters and show their progression; some don’t. The
entire collection is 178 pages. So that’s the structure of it. The question is, does
it work? It most certainly does. The writing is poignant and vivid and
touching. The characters are relatable and in clear focus. I’d give Kane and
these stories what is probably the biggest compliment I can give: I read it
very slowly. I was completely content in the world of each piece and was in no
hurry to get to the next one. I nodded my head several times while reading. I
was surprised and perplexed and entirely engaged. She has a perceptive way of
getting to the essence of a person, a situation, and holding us captive as we
wriggle and watch and eventually, turn the mirror on ourselves.
Perhaps
the shorter form isn’t really suited to a fast-paced world after all. If a
story is done right, you shouldn’t want to rush through it. This crystallized
form of narrative takes much polishing and care, and Jessica Francis Kane has
offered a collection of gems with This Close. If you have a moment to spare, or several moments, I highly
recommend you give it a read.
Thanks for the inspiration. And best success with your collection.
ReplyDeleteSome of my stories languish in folders to be forever improved.