I've never been much for short stories, either reading them or writing them. I know they're a specialized art form with all sorts of distinctions from full-length novels, size only being one of the things setting them apart. It's just I can't help feeling a little ripped off when I read one. There doesn't seem enough room for the things that happen to be properly justified and it feels like an author is forcing something to squeeze into a space that its far too big to fit into.
Of course there are exceptions to every rule, even the ones I make up for myself, and there are writers who have such a discerning eye that they can slice a small moment off the bulk of reality and turn it into something special. J. G. Ballard, James Joyce, Sherman Alexi, Jorge Luis Boges, and a few others seem to have the ability to reduce a story down to its barest essentials; they distil its essence so that what other authors might take hundreds of page to recount, they can do in five or six.
The first book I ever read by Thomas King was called One Good Story, That One: Stories. Since that time I've not only added him to my list of authors that I keep watch on for a new release, but become addicted to his short fiction. His stories find their targets with an accuracy that those Pentagon folk can only dream about.
Whether pointed comments about the state of affairs for Native peoples, satirical commentary on historical events and current affairs, insights into the workings and failings of relationships, or momentary glimpses into a life in progress, King's microscope picks out the particles that others would dismiss as unimportant. Who else but Thomas King would have figured out the tie in between The Indian Act of Canada and Star Trek? I know I'd missed them until he pointed it out in "Where The Borg Are".
Of course the clues are there for those who know how to look, but not all of us have the eye for stuff like that. But then, a lot of us don't look up at the sky too much or wander around Bay St. (the financial district in Toronto, Ontario) at 3am so we miss seeing the flocks of Indians migrating in the spring and fall. Who knew that the city of Toronto had special workers whose job it was to pick the Indians stunned by flying into the glass towers of the sky scrapers up off the street and make sure they don't wander around the city streets dazed and confused?
Article comments
1 - John Spivey
Sounds like an interesting book. I'll have to see if I can find it.
2 - Natalie Bennett
This article has been selected for syndication to Advance.net, which is affiliated with newspapers around the United States. Nice work!