There is something I keep wanting to say about reading short stories. I am doing it now, because I many never have another occasion. Stories are not chapters of novels. They should not be read one after another, as if they were meant to follow along. Read one. Shut the book. Read something else. Come back later. Stories can wait.
Interpretation
Short stories offer distinct experiences that should be appreciated individually rather than in succession.
Mavis Gallant emphasizes the unique nature of short stories, suggesting that each story provides a standalone experience that deserves focused attention. Rather than treating them as parts of a continuous narrative, readers are encouraged to savor each story independently, allowing for reflection and a deeper connection to the distinct themes and characters within.
In practice
During a book club meeting to discuss the value of short stories in literature.
No one is as real to me as people in the novel. It grows like a living thing. When I realize they do not exist except in my mind I have a feeling of sadness, looking around for them, as if the half-empty cafe were a place I had once come to with friends who had all moved away.
All lives are interesting; no one life is more interesting than another. Its fascination depends on how much is revealed, and in what manner.
Literature is that which he can not read without pain, without choking on truth.
There were epochs in the history of humanity in which the writer was a sacred person. He wrote the sacred books, universal books, the codes, the epic, the oracles. Sentences inscribed on the walls of the crypts; examples in the portals of the temples. But in those times the writer was not an individual alone; he was the people.
It is with noble sentiments that bad literature gets written.
I'm not sure that it's possible to write a novel about people who don't transgress or stumble, people who don't surprise themselves with the things they do, people who can explain all their actions with perfect logical consistency. At least it's not possible for me to write that sort of novel.
In Algeria, I had begun to get into literature and philosophy. I dreamed of writing-and already models were instructing the dream, a certain language governed it.
He constructed a vast labyrinthine of periods, made impassable by the piling-up of clauses upon clauses-clauses in which oversight and bad grammar seemed manifestations of disdain.
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