W. Somerset
Maugham's "Rain" is my favorite short story, and if I ran the zoo it would be the
official greatest short story of all time. Maugham's novels have never really done it for me,
but his stories are amazing distillations of human nature. An earlier post referred to the
"ice berg" theory of short story writing--that is, that two-thirds of the story are
what the reader infers from the little bit that is actually on the page. "Rain"
epitomizes this kind of story.
I'm not big on surprise endings, though I love
being taken in unexpected directions. Maupassaunt and Saki are like snacking on spicy
appetizers. For sheer craziness, read T.C. Boyle's stories involving chimpanzees and what they
bring out in people. Or his "Hector Quesadilla's Story."
Let's not
forget "Wanda Hickey's Night of Golden Memories" by Jean Shepard (who also gave us the
stories upon which the film A Christmas Story was based--which, incidentally reminds me of A
Christmas Memory by Truman Capote, one of the best American short stories and the best by anyone
about Christmas).
Long works are more easily satisfying, in part because the
author has the luxury of playing around a little. Extended dialog can tolerate (to a point) more
grunts, miscommunications, spoonerisms--whatever develops characters and makes them familiar to
us. Tangents can take us into the author's or narrator's hidden mind. Landscapes can sculpt a
whole topography of moods and expectations. The moment a short story begins to wander off point,
it becomes a fragment of a longer work and leaves the reader feeling underfed. A great short
story contains everything the reader needs for a single-serving, supremely satisfying meal and
leaves the reader with one of those haunting memories, like the one about the perfect burger
seasoned and grilled like no other you have ever eaten.
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