Last week I finally understood why I am not a short story reader. I had finished Alice Munro’s collection of short stories “Too Much Happiness”, which I thought was okay. Then I read what some other people thought of the book–and realized that I had completely missed the complex character development, that I just do not pay enough attention to every word to be able to truly appreciate something that doesn’t go on for 200 pages. I am all about the big picture and I miss the nuances
Then I read this book, a collection of 11 short stories, ten of which I loved. So, now I have to go back to the drawing board to figure this out. Maybe it is a particular kind of short story that I don’t get. In any case, this is a spectacular book, filled with stories about flawed people who Meloy manages to make us care about. Do I wish that each of them went on for an entire book–of the ten I loved, I wish there was more for eight of them. For two stories–one about ‘the other woman’ and one about a man on the verge of leaving his wife for a younger woman, the point of view that I wanted was there, all told, and I didn’t want any more. That is so rarely the case (I remember vividly reading Vikram Seth’s first book “A Suitable Boy”, which carries on for almost 1500 pages, and being terribly dissapointed that it ended. I wanted more!). The stories drew me in, many of the characters were not people I wanted to meet, most were not likable (maybe none of us is likable when someone is in our head, seeing our every thought), but I wanted to know what happened to them, how the story ended. There is alot to think about in this short volume, and it is wonderful.