The opening paragraph of Nabokov’s “Signs and Symbols,” published in the May 15, 1948 issue of The New Yorker: For the fourth time in as many years, they were confronted with the problem of what birthday present to take to a young man who was incurably deranged in his mind. Desires he had none. Man-made … Continue reading A Short Story For Saturday
The opening lines of Chris Offutt’s “Mr. Cartoon“: We got one channel that came over the mountains from West Virginia, and bad weather just about ruined that. On stormy winter nights Papaw went outside to turn the antenna while my big brother, Wendell, stayed in front of the TV, watching for the picture to get … Continue reading A Short Story For Saturday
Zachary S. Tompkin’s “Magic Wand” begins: The magician stood in front of the children. The parents stayed in the kitchen – the men standing at the bar swigging bottled beer and jawing about sports; the women sitting at the table swirling pink wine and rehashing the happenings of their own children’s birthday parties. Raymond Badgely … Continue reading A Short Story For Saturday
A passage from the opening paragraphs of Nathaniel Hawthorne‘s 1843 story “The Birthmark“: In those days when the comparatively recent discovery of electricity and other kindred mysteries of Nature seemed to open paths into the region of miracle, it was not unusual for the love of science to rival the love of woman in its … Continue reading A Short Story For Saturday
A passage from Edgar Allan Poe’s disturbing 1838 tale, “A Predicament“: Leaning upon the arm of the gallant Pompey, and attended at a respectable distance by Diana, I proceeded down one of the populous and very pleasant streets of the now deserted Edina. On a sudden, there presented itself to view a church—a Gothic cathedral—vast, … Continue reading A Short Story For Saturday
The New Republic returns to publishing fiction with a new story from Nicole Krauss, “I Am Asleep but My Heart Is Awake.” How it begins: Asleep in my father’s apartment, I dream that someone is at the door. It’s him—he is three, or maybe four, years old. He’s crying; I don’t know why, only that … Continue reading A Short Story For Saturday
This week’s short story marks our first foray into flash fiction. From the opening paragraph of Ben Hoffman’s “So Much To Burn“: My neighbor is burning his mail again. My neighbor is a postman so his mail is not the mail he receives but the mail he delivers, or the mail he should be delivering … Continue reading A Short Story For Saturday
Today’s (very) short story is Heinrich Böll’s “The Laugher,” translated by Leila Vennewitz. How the story begins: When someone asks me what business I am in, I am seized with embarrassment: I blush and stammer, I who am otherwise known as a man of poise. I envy people who can say: I am a bricklayer. I … Continue reading A Short Story For Saturday
The opening paragraph of Anton Chekhov’s 1889 story “The Bet“: It was a dark autumn night. The old banker was walking up and down his study and remembering how, fifteen years before, he had given a party one autumn evening. There had been many clever men there, and there had been interesting conversations. Among other … Continue reading A Short Story For Saturday
The opening lines of Ernest Hemingway’s “The Snows of Kilimanjaro,” written in 1938: “The marvelous thing is that it’s painless,” he said. “That’s how you know when it starts.” “Is it really?” “Absolutely. I’m awfully sorry about the odor though. That must bother you.” “Don’t! Please don’t.” “Look at them,” he said. “Now is it … Continue reading A Short Story For Saturday
