I am a fan of George Saunders, a writer I discovered through Jeffery Eugenides anthology, My Mistress’s Sparrow is Dead. In that collection he had a story called Jon, a stunning example of voice for my teenage writing students. Quirky is too banal a term for what he does with words. His stories are never tidy. I find myself re-reading sentences, paragraphs or even going back to the beginning and starting again. His stories break all those rules about smoothness and not interrupting the reader’s flow. But when I’m reading him I don’t care about being confused. His characters are so intriguing, the situations they are in so bizarre, I want to read every word again and again.
Enjoy Tenth of December from the New Yorker, a short short story, with a memorable final line. This is from a collection of the same name coming out in January. I’ll be adding it to Pastoralia, his earlier collection I was supposed to get for Christmas (but couldn’t wait.) For a review of Pastoralia in the Guradian, go here.
