After a few stories each from Murakami, Hemingway, Kafka, and Joyce (masters, right?), I can't say I understand the form very well. Is art just subtraction? You extensively depict a scene and then subtract half the details and all the meaning before publishing? That's artistic; the artist gave nothing away; it's so authentically vacant. Then why did they write it? And why did I read it?
I haven't disliked any of the four. It's easier to pass my basic test when you're operating in what's not said, in the unseen. Often my contempt goes to the overstated; the understated slides through. It then dodges my love.
Short stories are still an effective vehicle for my gaining traction in prose. I wish I connected better with them.
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