How I Learned to Love Short Stories

A guest post from Melissa Joulwan

Exploring Life and Literature

Dear Friends,

I rarely listen to podcasts because, well, books. But occasionally, I discover a podcast about books, at which point I am faced with the conundrum of reading more books or listening to people talk about books. Life is full of choices. One bookish podcast I discovered and enjoy is Strong Sense of Place. The hosts, Melissa and her husband Dave are American ex-pats living in Prague with their cat Smudge. In addition to the podcast, they have a website and a newsletter, all dedicated to literary travel and books with vivid settings. In each episode, they get curious about one destination and discuss five great books that took them there on the page.

Melissa loves to walk along the Vltava River, exploring the many parks and cobblestone alleys in the beautiful city she now calls home. She enjoys yoga, meditation, eating, cooking, and travel. In between all of those activities, she loves to read. Melissa believes, and I happen to agree, that the world is an awe-inspiring place populated with fascinating people — and one lifetime is too short to go everywhere and meet everyone. She says, “Books are a gift because they give us intimate glimpses into other lives, places, and times. They help me understand myself better and make me a better human to others.”

Melissa is the author of the Well Fed Cookbook series and Rollergirl: Totally True Tales from the Track, a memoir of her roller derby days. In addition to her books, I asked what book she loves recommending to others.

“My you-have-to-read-this title changes as I do, but I think there's a lot to be enjoyed (and learned) from 'Jane Eyre' by Charlotte Bronte. The novel 'Still Life' by Sarah Winman is a love letter to adventure and found family that I recommend a lot; bonus points if you pair it with 'A Room with a View' by EM Forster.”

- Melissa Joulwan

Enjoy this guest essay from Melissa.

Melissa Joulwan

I love a 500- to 600-page cinderblock of a novel, and I will happily crack open a doorstopper that's north of 1000 pages. For a long time, I didn't enjoy short stories. They left me frustrated and impatient. I have a vivid sense memory of finishing a story and throwing the book across the room while muttering, 'What was the point of that?!'

But I continued to hope I'd discover a single-author collection or anthology that grabbed me. I was chasing the high of three short stories that smacked me right in the solar plexus when I was kid.

I grew up in rural Pennsylvania. When the neighbor kids were building forts in the woods and riding bikes on the front street, I was parked under a tree with a favorite book — the pre-teen stories of Judy Blume! Encyclopedia Brown! The Great Brain! Nancy Drew!

One day, I found myself in a new English class — Hello, 1979 Enrichment Program! — along with about eight other kids who also liked reading more than just about anything else. Our teacher — a young woman fresh out of college — shunted the student desks to the sides of the room and re-arranged the chairs in a circle. Then she turned out the lights, held a flashlight under her chin, and slowly read from the book in her lap in a quiet voice: 'True! — nervous — very, very dreadfully nervous I had been and am; but why will you say that I am mad?'

That was my introduction to Edgar Allan Poe. By the time the story's narrator shone that slim beam of light upon the old man's eye — his pale blue eye, his vulture eye — I was hooked. After that first day with “The Tell-Tale Heart,” we went on to read more Poe: “The Masque of the Red Death,” “The Fall of the House of Usher,” “The Pit and the Pendulum.”

The following year, another English teacher had us read aloud — taking turns, a few paragraphs at a time — “Contents of the Dead Man's Pocket” by Jack Finney. The story is simple: Tom Benecke, an ambitious young adman, has an epiphany while chasing an important (to him) piece of paper out the window of his apartment 11 floors above Lexington Avenue in NYC. In just 15 pages, there's rich character development, riveting suspense, and a very satisfying ending. It's since become my go-to recommendation anytime anyone wants to read a short story.

In that same class, later, we read Shirley Jackson's “The Lottery.” I can still feel the slow dread accumulating under my breastbone when I realized just what was happening in that story. I don't think I've read it since, but 42 years later, I don't need to. It stuck in the part of my brain that stores my childhood phone number and fear of attics.

Despite this strong start, I eventually had a falling out with short stories. I think I expected them to be like tiny novels. But not all short stories are like that. And to be fair, the titles I've name-dropped here are some of the greatest short stories of all time.

So 'I don't like short stories' became a thing about me, as internalized as 'buttered popcorn is my favorite food' and 'Jane Eyre is a heroine for the ages.'

Then I learned a few tricks about how to approach short stories that changed everything I thought I knew about how I read. Now I regularly mix short stories into my reading life along with novels, novellas, and flash fiction.

Here are five tips to help you read more short stories. These work for collections of nonfiction essays, too!

1. Mix it up.

This is a handy trick I learned from an author of short stories. She argued that reading a short story collection from front to back, like you would a novel, is the wrong way to go about it. That approach sets up expectations for a through-line or a narrative with a beginning, middle, and end. But most short story collections are not put together that way. Her advice was to browse the table of contents and choose a story that appeals to you at that moment, based on its title. That way, the story can shine as an entity of its own. (Addendum: This advice does not apply to collections in which the stories are connected, but I would argue that's more a novel in vignettes than a short story collection.)

2. Enjoy an amuse-bouche.

One day, after complaining to my husband about how a short story had started strong — compelling setup, vivid setting, evocative sentences — it had just kind of... stopped. It was the equivalent of a getting a photograph when I thought I was promised a movie. He said something that has had a lasting impact on how I approach and judge short stories: “Sometimes a short story is just like a square of dark chocolate that you let sit on your tongue to melt. It doesn't need to do anything beyond the sensation.”

3. Try a palate cleanser.

If you've ever had a book hangover, you know it can hurt so good/so bad to finish a book you love. Rather than jumping right into the next one, you can use a short story to help you through that transition. A story you can read in one sitting is a rewarding way to travel the liminal space between other books.

When I examined why I found the stories of Poe, Finney, and Jackson so compelling, I realized they have a strong sense of place and are driven by suspense (and not a little bit of dread). Extrapolating out from that, I decided to explore collections that were overt about their intentions. Genre collections like horror, sci-fi, fantasy, mystery, or collections devoted to one geographic location work better for me than literary short stories and anthologies. I've read a story about a comi-tragic Hawaiian family funeral from This is Paradise by Kristiana Kahakauwila at least five times. It has all the depth I enjoy in novels concentrated into a short story. The Brooklyn-based publisher Akashic Books puts out a series of noir crime stories set in cities all over the world, and Martin Edwards edits fantastic collections of golden-age crime stories for the British Library Crime Classics series. The holidays are a fun time to add short stories into your reading life; this collection of Krampus stories has become an annual December tradition for me — and Halloween is practically begging you to read chilling short stories during October.

5. Trust your favorite authors.

Amor Towles' A Gentleman in Moscow is one of my all-time favorite novels, so I approached his short story collection Table for Two with a lot of enthusiasm — and it was not misplaced. In his novels, he renders complete worlds that feel lived in and whole from the first page. He brings that same skill to his short stories; they're immersive and complete in a way I find very satisfying. Ditto authors like Elizabeth McCracken, Carlos Ruiz Zafón, and Stephen King. You can also look for your favorite authors in anthologies. Natasha Pulley is one of my ride-or-die authors — treat yourself to her novels The Kingdoms, The Bedlam Stacks, and The Mars House — so when I saw her name in the list of authors in a collection of winter stories, it was an easy yes. And bonus: that book introduced me to a slew of new-to-me authors to seek out in long form.

I hope these tips encourage you to seek out favorite short stories from your own past — and to discover new collections that resonate with you. Here are a few ideas to get you started:

• 17 Collections of Short Stories and Essays with a Strong Sense of Place

• 6 Short Story Collections That Are Appropriately Eerie for Halloween

• Substack Discussion: What's a short story or short story collection you recommend?

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Until next time,