Monday, February 07, 2005
Great Short Story Writers
Annie Proulx
Richard Ford
William Trevor
Alice Munro
The old masters of the craft (O. Henry, Bret Harte, Sherwood Anderson, Edgar Allan Poe, Somerset Maugham, Balzac, Maupassant, Anatole France) are long gone. But short story writers today are no less powerful. The authors listed above include two Americans, one from Ireland, and a Canadian, Alice Munro.
Here are a few snippets to whet your appetite.
“’You know,' said Plato Bucklew, ‘I don’t care for them new V-Rods. If I was to get a motorsickle it would be one a the old Buffalos. You ever hear a them?’
‘Heard a them but never seen one. Heard they never got it off the drawin board,‘ said Creel Zmundzinski.
‘That might just be the best part of it’, said his friend enigmatically.
‘Take a horse, myself.’"
“The Contest” (Bad Dirt, Wyoming Stories 2) by Annie Proulx, Scribner 2004.
“’Did this give you anything?’ Wales, said. ‘Did I give you anything you cared about? It seemed like you wanted there to be an outcome.
‘What an odd thing to ask’, Jena said, her eyes shining, growing large again. She seemed about to laugh, but then suddenly moved to him, stood on tiptoes and kissed him on the mouth, hard, put her cold cheek to his cheek and said, ‘Yes. You gave me so much. You gave me all there was. Didn’t you? That’s what I wanted.’
‘Yes,’ Wales said. ‘I did. That’s right’. He smiled at her.”
“Quality Time” (A Multitude of Sins) by Richard Ford, Alfred Knopf 2002.
‘What children of a marriage rarely witness is the nature of the love that brought the whole thing--themselves included--into being in the first place. The marriage of parents is almost always mysterious; the sensual elements scarcely bear thinking about, the romantic past can only be guessed at, and all such curiosity invariably comes too late.’
“Field of Battle” (part of a series titled “Personal History”) by William Trevor. The New Yorker.
'But he just wanted somebody to talk to,' she said, shifting sides a little. 'He wanted somebody worse than I didn’t want somebody. I realize that now. And I don't look mean. I don't look cruel. But I was.'"
"Chance" by Alice Munro. The New Yorker, 2004.
Give them a try. Books are such great companions.
