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April 14, 2010

Comments

WWarren

"For me, the short story generally conveys an existential situation, rather than a fully-fledged narrative plot."

This is a fine explanation that works well for me. I believe this is why I much prefer short fiction to novels. Narrative plots tend towards an excess that I would rather intuit or imagine. Besides, I suppose I'm not an enormous fan of stories.

But in short fiction, stories are different, they aren't stories so much as feelings and sense. They give my mind wiggle room. This wiggle room helps me empathize. It is the existential situation that I am after; I can empathize profoundly with it.

Narratives and plots feel strategic. The wholly new place in a characters life, as you put it, feels false, convoluted and strategical. I cannot empathize with this. Perhaps its because I have never had a strategy myself. I go on in life, letting events change me and learning what I can the hardest way possible. I never have tried to coerce myself into being this or that... and when I read a novel, I usually feel its staged. It leaves me feeling alien.

Excellent ideas you have here.

Mark Snyder

Goodness, looking forward to seeing you read from the collection in May here in New York! Happy publication!!

Niall

I think this particular definition of story is perhaps too focused on the self-consciously literary. Detective and science fiction stories tend to be much more plot focused than character focused, though I would agree that even genre short fiction tends to be focused more on the existential moment. I think, though, that the short story is much more robust and dominant in genre fiction than it is in literary fiction these days.

cleo birdwell


but this blog is about literary fiction.


Niall

Cleo -

Which is why it is sometimes necessary to point out the differences between literary fiction and other forms of fiction.

Lou Thomas

Short stories compared to novels are like songs compared to albums. Both can be satisfying if they're of a high standard.

There's a great competition for aspiring novelists here: http://www.wbqonline.com/feature.do?featureid=505

Niall

Particularly at a time when so much literary fiction is drawing on science fictions (Solar, Never Let Me Go, etc.), it strikes me as behind the times and a bit clueless to continue to insist on such a hard distinction between the two.

amy

Lovely post... speaking as someone who only recently came around to loving the short form, don't give up hope on those codgers who dismiss it!

E Chao

The length of a piece of writing is almost inconsequential. A story is to be judged by its telling: Some tell a story best with more words, some with less. As a reader, I love both the novel and the short story. As a writer, one form may come more naturally than the other. I never cared about the shape of my mug as long as the drink is enjoyable.

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TEV DEFINED


  • The Elegant Variation is "Fowler’s (1926, 1965) term for the inept writer’s overstrained efforts at freshness or vividness of expression. Prose guilty of elegant variation calls attention to itself and doesn’t permit its ideas to seem naturally clear. It typically seeks fancy new words for familiar things, and it scrambles for synonyms in order to avoid at all costs repeating a word, even though repetition might be the natural, normal thing to do: The audience had a certain bovine placidity, instead of The audience was as placid as cows. Elegant variation is often the rock, and a stereotype, a cliché, or a tired metaphor the hard place between which inexperienced or foolish writers come to grief. The familiar middle ground in treating these homely topics is almost always the safest. In untrained or unrestrained hands, a thesaurus can be dangerous."

SECOND LOOK

  • The Bookshop by Penelope Fitzgerald

    Bs

    Penelope Fitzgerald's second novel is the tale of Florence Green, a widow who seeks, in the late 1950s, to bring a bookstore to an isolated British town, encountering all manner of obstacles, including incompetent builders, vindictive gentry, small minded bankers, an irritable poltergeist, but, above all, a town that might not, in fact, want a bookshop. Fitzgerald's prose is spare but evocative – there's no wasted effort and her work reminds one of Hemingway's dictum that every word should fight for its right to be on the page. Florence is an engaging creation, stubbornly committed to her plan even as uncertainty regarding the wisdom of the enterprise gnaws at her. But The Bookshop concerns itself, finally, with the astonishing vindictiveness of which provincials are capable, and, as so much English fiction must, it grapples with the inevitabilities of class. It's a dense marvel at 123 pages, a book you won't want to – or be able to – rush through.
  • The Rider by Tim Krabbe

    Rider_4

    Tim Krabbé's superb 1978 memoir-cum-novel is the single best book we've read about cycling, a book that will come closer to bringing you inside a grueling road race than anything else out there. A kilometer-by-kilometer look at just what is required to endure some of the most grueling terrain in the world, Krabbé explains the tactics, the choices and – above all – the grinding, endless, excruciating pain that every cyclist faces and makes it heart-pounding rather than expository or tedious. No writer has better captured both the agony and the determination to ride through the agony. He's an elegant stylist (ably served by Sam Garrett's fine translation) and The Rider manages to be that rarest hybrid – an authentic, accurate book about cycling that's a pleasure to read. "Non-racers," he writes. "The emptiness of those lives shocks me."