I love short stories. They are perhaps my favorite art form. I read a lot of short stories, and my tastes are omnivorous. I have only two expectations from a short story: One is that it be short; the other is that it tell a story. Is that too much to expect?
When I pick up a short story, the first thing I do is flip through to the end to see how long the piece goes on. I often stall out altogether when I encounter an endless short story. Honestly, if I wanted to read a book, that’s what I would have picked up. Some writers just don’t know when to shoot themselves.
But to slog through 100 pages of a story that could be well told in 10 just makes me livid. Do you think I don’t know the difference? Do you think I have nothing better to do? Do you think you are all that deep and inscrutable? Please.
Poetry is one thing; artistry is another. But don’t throw words at me, page after page, dropping a few metaphors and allusions along the way, wind it all up with a non sequitur and then expect admiration from me. Even if you do have a famous name and a longstanding reputation.
I come from Texas, and I have a B.S. degree. I know bovine excrement when I step in it.