(Not) The Best American Short Stories

Thanks to Jennifer Egan and George Saunders, I picked up a copy of last year's Best American Short Stories from the library to read. I've occasionally perused through the series' previous volumes to get a sense of who got published, and where they were published. Unsurprisingly, the bulk of the selections come from the likes of The New Yorker, Tin House, and McSweeney's. Well la-di-da. I actually did try to read through an entire volume once, and I liked some of the stories, but I've forgotten all of them already. I think there was one about an old Jewish man, one with a married couple in Paris... or I could be mixing them up with some other collection. So yeah, they were good all right.

More like Best American Bedtime Stories!

So I don't know why I decided to read more than just two or three of the stories in here. I was setting myself up for disappointment. But Geraldine Brooks made them sound so good in the introduction! (though I guess that's the point). Most of them were well-written, and from an objective point of view I could appreciate them, but for the most part I found them either annoying or boring. I was this close to not even finishing the way-too-long "Bridge Under Water," which did sort of pay off at the end--but even that was a shallow satisfaction.  Many of the stories smacked of the artful literary pretension that pervades this sort of fiction, which I've already discussed before. What is the magic here that I'm not really seeing?

Granted, I did like some of them: namely, the ones that toyed with reality. "Phantoms," "The Sleep," and "ID" were my unequivocal favorites. I also didn't have that much negative thoughts on "Peter Torelli, Falling Apart:" that story was moving and engaging in all the right ways, and was at least a little bit different from the literary mainstream. There were only two Holocaust-related stories included this year: "Free Fruit for Young Widows" presented an interesting moral question regarding a man's murderous tendencies bred by captivity in concentration camps; the other story, "The Hare's Mask," was about rabbits or something (guess which one I liked more?). Jennifer Egan's story "Out of Body" presented NY teens in a realistic light, though I'm not sure if the "you" narrative was really the ticket; and this, like a lot of the other stories, gets big-picture at the end (and maybe someone dies?). You can't really get more cliche with a short story (or any story) than having somebody die. George Saunders' piece, "Escape from Spiderhead," starts off too silly and ends too sentimental; I liked "The Call of Blood," but didn't get it until I read the contributor blurb; I also liked "To the Measures Fall," but it's pretty pretentiously meta. "The Dungeon Master" and "Soldier of Fortune" reek of the melodrama of Oscar-winning films, even if the funny moments are redeemable. The rest were worthy of bedtime--they'll put you to sleep in minutes! I don't even want to waste my time going over them; the thought makes me want to nap.

Still, I think it was worth reading these stories; as always when reading as a writer, I've got to keep in mind what kind of stories I want to write--and if this hipster bullshit is not what I want to write, I got to know what it looks like so that I can stay the hell away from it... and if I catch myself writing like this, stop before I shoot myself.

Overall, then, I actually enjoyed slightly less than half of the stories, many of which are pretty memorable--a far cry from the other Best American collection I read. I might even read more stuff by the select authors that I actually liked. Other than that, I'm going to continue sniffing out anything that seems new and different--a nigh impossibility in this age, but it's out there! for example, I'm intrigued by this Flame Alphabet book...